And it would not be ‘loose’, as you think; it should not become known, even. You would make only the one, of course.”
“Oh. You don’t want one, then?”
“Certainly not. What do I need of such a thing? Kinnison only—and only for his protection.”
“Kim can handle it . but he’s the only being this side of Arisia that I’d trust with one . QX, give me the dope on the frequency, wave-form, and so on, and I’ll see what I can do.”
CHAPTER 2
Invasion Via Tube
Port Admiral Haynes, newly chosen President of the Galactic Council and by virtue of his double office the most powerful entity of Civilization, set instantly into motion the vast machinery which would make Tellus safe against any possible attack. He first called together his Board of Strategy; the same keen-minded tacticians who had helped him plan the invasion of the Second Galaxy and the eminently successful attack upon Jarnevon. Should Grand Fleet, many of whose component fleets had not yet reached their home planets, be recalled? Not yet—lots of time for that. Let them go home for a while first. The enemy would have to rebuild before they could attack, and there were many more pressing matters.
Scouting was most important. The planets near the galactic rim could take care of that. In fact, they should concentrate upon it, to the exclusion of everything else of warfare’s activities. Every approach to the galaxy—yes, the space between the two galaxies and as far into the Second Galaxy as it was safe to penetrate—should be covered as with a blanket. That way, they could not be surprised.
Kinnison, when he heard that, became vaguely uneasy. He did not really have a thought; it was as though he should have had one, but didn’t. Deep down, far off, just barely above the threshold of perception an indefinite, formless something obtruded itself upon his consciousness. Tug and haul at it as he would, he could not get the drift. There was something he ought to be thinking of, but what in all the iridescent hells from Vandemar to Alsakan was it? So, instead of flitting about upon his declared business, he stuck around; helping the General Staff—and thinking.
And Defense Plan BBT went from the idea men to the draftsmen, then to the engineers. This was to be, primarily, a war of planets. Ships could battle ships, fleets fleets; but, postulating good tactics upon the other side, no fleet, however armed and powered, could stop a planet. That had been proved. A planet had a mass of the order of magnitude of one times ten to the twenty fifth kilograms, and an intrinsic velocity of somewhere around forty kilometers per second. A hundred probably, relative to Tellus, if the planet came from the Second Galaxy. Kinetic energy, roughly, about five times ten to the forty first ergs. No, that was nothing for any possible fleet to cope with.
Also, the attacking planets would of course be inertialess until the last strategic instant. Very well, they must be made inert prematurely, when the Patrol wanted them that way, not the enemy. How? HOW? The Bergenholms upon those planets would be guarded with everything the Boskonians had.
The answer to that question, as worked out by the engineers, was something they called a “super-mauler”. It was gigantic, cumbersome, and slow; but little faster, indeed, than a free planet. It was like Helmuth’s fortresses of space, only larger. It was like the special defense cruisers of the Patrol, except that its screens were vastly heavier. It was like a regular mauler, except that it had only one weapon. All of its incomprehensible mass was devoted to one thing—power! It could defend itself; and, if it could get close enough to its objective, it could do plenty of damage—its dreadful primary was the first weapon ever developed capable of cutting a Q-type helix squarely in two.
And in various solar systems, uninhabitable and worthless planets were converted into projectiles. Dozens of them, possessing widely varying masses and intrinsic velocities. One by one they flitted away from their parent suns and took up positions—not too far away from our Solar System, but not too near.
And finally Kinnison, worrying at his tantalizing thought as a dog worries a bone, crystallized it. Prosaically enough, it was an extremely short and flamboyantly waggling pink skirt which catalyzed the reaction; which acted as the seed of the crystallization. Pink—a Chickladorian—Xylpic the Navigator—Overlords of Delgon. Thus flashed the train of thought, culminating in:
“Oh, so that’s it!” he exclaimed, aloud. “A TUBE—just as sure as hell’s a mantrap!” He whistled raucously at a taxi, took the wheel himself, and broke—or at least bent—most of the city’s traffic ordinances in getting to Haynes’ office.
The Port Admiral was always busy, but he was never too busy to see Gray Lensman Kinnison; especially when the latter demanded the right of way in such terms as he used then.
“The whole defense set-up is screwy,” Kinnison declared. “I thought I was overlooking a bet, but I couldn’t locate it. Why should they fight their way through inter-galactic space and through sixty thousand parsecs of planet-infested galaxy when they don’t have to?” he demanded. “Think of the length of the supply line, with our bases placed to cut it in a hundred places, no matter how they route it. It doesn’t make sense. They’d have to out-weigh us in an almost impossibly high ratio, unless they have an improbably superior armament.”
“Check.” The old warrior was entirely unperturbed. “Surprised you didn’t see that long ago. We did. I’ll be very much surprised if they attack at all.”
“But you’re going ahead with all this just as though .”
“Certainly. Something may happen, and we can’t be caught off guard. Besides, it’s good training for the boys. Helps morale, no end.” Haynes’ nonchalant air disappeared and he studied the younger man keenly for moments. “But Mentor’s warning certainly meant something, and you said ‘when they don’t have to’. But even if they go clear around the galaxy to the other side—an impossibly long haul—we’re covered. Tellus is far enough in so they can’t possibly take us by surprise. So—spill it!”
“How about a hyper-spatial tube? They know exactly where we are, you know.”
“Um . m . m.” Haynes was taken aback. “Never thought of it . possible, distinctly a possibility. A duodec bomb, say, just far enough underground .”
“Nobody else thought of it, either, until just now,” Kinnison broke in. “However, I’m not afraid of duodec—don’t see how they could control it accurately enough at this three-dimensional distance. Too deep, it wouldn’t explode at all. What I don’t like to think of, though, is a negasphere. Or a planet, perhaps.”
“Ideas? Suggestions?” the admiral snapped.
“No—I don’t know anything about that stuff. How about putting our Lenses on Cardynge?”
“That’s a thought!” and in seconds they were in communication with Sir Austin Cardynge, Earth’s mightiest mathematical brain.
“Kinnison, how many times must I tell you that I am not to be interrupted?” the aged scientist’s thought was a crackle of fury. “How can I concentrate upon vital problems if every young whippersnapper in the System is to perpetrate such abominable, such outrageous intrusions .”
“Hold it, Sir Austin—hold everything!” Kinnison soothed. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have intruded if it hadn’t been a matter of life or death. But
