Space Gypsies (19 page)

“Overdrive coming!” said Howell. He sounded almost savage, which spoiled the effect of what could have been a high dramatic moment, but was a very natural reaction. He threw the switch.

The
Marintha
broke out of overdrive.

There were stars by thousands and millions and billions. There were gas-clouds light-centuries away, shining by the light of many suns. There were star-clusters and nebulae, and the Milky way itself. There were white and blue-white suns, and yellow ones, and unwinking specks of light of every colour the eyes of men could recognize. And suddenly, in the faint and lucent twilight of starshine—suddenly there was the
Marintha
.

She came into being apparently from nowhere. At one instant there was nothing. Then there was—the space-yacht, her bright metal plates reflecting the faint, faint glow of a thousand million far-away suns. She appeared and instantly invisible radiating waves spread out from her in all imaginable directions. There was, of course, no sign of their existence, but they were real and they spread at the speed of light.

For the fraction of a second she was alone, and her loneliness was infinite. But then other things appeared. They were shapes. By scores and by hundreds they flickered into being, and each had the form of a slug—such a slimy and unpleasant thing as is found under rotting logs in woodland. The resemblance even extended to horns like eyestalks, save that on these shapes the horns were the deadliest of weapons.

Some of the shapes appeared close to the
Marintha
. There were some ahead and some behind, and to the right and left, and above and below. The nearest was not a mile from the silver-steel yacht from Earth. The farthest—Howell at the vision-screens could not tell. They seemed to fill all of space so far as the eye could distinguish them.

But they didn’t remain as they appeared. They retained the shape of fighting ships long enough to be seen as such, but no longer. Then, soundlessly, they ceased to be objects of solid, iron-hard plastic. They became mere similitudes of ships formed of the finest imaginable dust. They were thrust instantly out to shapelessness and the properties of dust-clouds by the expanding air they’d contained for their crews to breathe.

More slug-ships broke out of overdrive, to cease to be ships and become dust-swarms as they arrived. And more ships. And more. And more.

Presently no others appeared, and the
Marintha
was again alone in the vast remoteness of between-the-stars. But there was a new dust-cloud in space. It was not likely that human astronomers would ever observe it, because it was very small. Within the next year, expanding as it would continue to do, it would exist only in a few hundred thousand cubic miles of nothingness. In fifty years, or perhaps a century, it would have dissipated past detection, and the only traces left of a slug-ship fighting fleet would be various objects of metal, no longer protected or held together by the plastic in which they’d been submerged. Perhaps in ten thousand thousand years some would have drifted to where some sun’s gravitational field would draw them to fiery oblivion in its photosphere.

In the
Marintha
, Howell drew a deep breath, still staring at the screens which showed the few last denser dust-clumpings. They represented the last-comers. Karen stared incredulously at the mistiness which was all that could be seen.

“It appears,” said Howell with some care, “that we finally hit on what the small-folk saw right away in our garbage-disposal unit. They’ve got plans for this trick. Now, as soon as they foregather at the next meeting place, they’ll pass on the trick of destroying garbage—because incidentally it destroys slug-ships!”

Ketch made an inarticulate small sound. His emotions were hopelessly mixed.

Breen said heavily, “They were really very unpleasant creatures, Howell! I think we are well out of this affair. What do you plan to do now?”

“Head home,” said Howell briskly. “We could carry on with our original plans if we wished, of course. If we keep the garbage unit running, we need only to have a slug-ship try to approach us to dispose of it without even knowing it. But I think our ships at home ought to be told about the trick. Robots in orbit about occupied worlds will take care of any slug-ship that might stumble on them. But that’s for precaution. I doubt that the beasts will try to go to space at all, after a few more experiences.”

Breen frowned reflectively. Then he said, “Experiences? But they won’t—”

“They’ll have the experience,” said Howell, “of sending ships to space and having them never come back. They can never find out how it happens. Any slug-ship that gets close enough to—say—a small-folk globe-ship, will disintegrate before its crew can grasp the idea. And even if they knew the whole trick—it wouldn’t work against a metal ship, and they can’t make ships for a chlorine atmosphere without making them of plastic.”

“Hm,” said Breen profoundly. “I see… yes, I see.”

Howell swung the
Marintha
about. He set a course with infinite care. He said, “Overdrive coming!”

Breen winced and Ketch growled as the acute discomfort of entering overdrive gripped them. Karen caught her breath. Howell stood up from the pilot’s chair.

“And I have a personal reason for wanting to get back to Earth,” he observed. “Karen?”

He led her out of the control room. Her eyes were shining.

“The—small-people will have garbage disposers, too,” she said in wondering relief. “And then they can really defend themselves against the slug-men! I’m glad of that! It seems so terrible for them to be hunted—”

“They’ll do the hunting now,” said Howell gruffly. “The garbage units won’t act in atmosphere, of course, so they can’t attack the chlorine-breathers’ planets as the beasts’ ancestors attacked and destroyed our forefathers’ cities. But the beasts will learn to stay aground!”

He led her the length of the saloon. He opened the door of the ship’s-stores cabinet. He ushered her in.

“The baby small-people are adorable!” said Karen softly. “I’m so glad they’ll be safe!” Then Howell closed the cabinet door and she said, “But what—why—”

“I explained once,” said Howell, “why I didn’t act romantic after we’d—er—admitted a certain interest in each other. I was busy, I said, trying to make you safe. I think you’re safe now. I’m preparing to argue that we should be married as soon as we can get back to Earth. We might as well tell your father we’re going to marry, anyhow. Shall I argue?”

“But—how—?”

“Like this,” said Howell.

He kissed her.