A Thousand Degrees Below Zero by Murray Leinster (most inspirational books of all time txt) 📕

you might be able to help me out."

"I've done nothing so far," said Teddy in a rather discouraged tone. "Miss Hawkins and I were just canvassing the situation. You're talking about the iceberg and Varrhus, aren't you?"

"Of course. No one talks about anything else nowadays. My taxi had a tough time getting through the crowds on the streets. They don't understand about the explosion in the Narrows yet."

Teddy introduced him to Evelyn.

"Pleasure, I'm sure," said Davis with a smile. Then his face sobered. "That was rotten hard luck about your father, Miss Hawkins. I'm not good at making speeches, but I hope you realize that every one is sympathizing with you and in a measure sharing your sorrow."

Evelyn shook hands.

"I will allow myself to grieve when Varrhus has been disposed of," she said quietly. "Until then I dare not let myself think."

Davis released her hand and turned to Teddy.

"Varrhus—or the chap in the black flyer, anyway—killed my best friend, Curtiss. He was driving the little Nieuport that attacked Varrhus the day you blew up the first bomb. I was the first man to reach the spot where Curtiss had crashed, and I swore I'd get Varrhus for that."

"I remember," said Teddy. "Frozen."

Davis nodded, his face grave.

"I have what is probably the fastest little machine in the United States, at the fort. A two-seater, with twin Liberty Motors that shoot her up to a hundred and fifty miles an hour without any trouble at all. I think I can get Varrhus with it. I came to you to learn what you think about Varrhus' weapons. It's only the part of wisdom to learn all you can about your opponent, you know."

Teddy found the young man impressing him very favorably.

"I haven't given the matter much thought," he confessed, "but you remember Varrhus' tactics?"

"He dropped like a tumbler pigeon," said Davis, "and Curtiss overshot him. There wasn't a sign of firing except from Curtiss. He simply overran the place where Varrhus had been three or four seconds before and then dropped. He was frozen stiff when I found him."

"I think," said Teddy carefully, "that Varrhus had shot up a jet of some liquified gas, probably hydrogen. It hung suspended in the air for a moment, and in that moment the biplane ran into it. A drop of liquid hydrogen placed in the palm of your hand would freeze your arm solidly up well past the elbow. It's something over five hundred degrees below zero. Your friend ran into what amounted to a shower of it."

Davis considered:

"Cheerful thing to fight against, isn't it?" he asked, with a smile. "Tactics, mustn't run above the black flyer and mustn't run below it. He can probably shoot it straight down, too."

"And almost certainly from the sides," said Teddy. "The man must have been working on this thing for years, and even if he's insane he'd be a fool not to make his weapon as efficient as possible."

Davis' expression became rueful.

"And so I'm supposed to keep my distance," he remarked, "and take pot shots at him while dancing merrily around in mid-air. Can't we do anything about that stuff to nullify it?"

"Burn it," suggested Evelyn. "Liquid hydrogen burns just as readily as the same gas at normal temperatures."

The three of them were silent for a moment.

"Would rockets set it afire?" asked Davis presently. "I could keep a stream of fire balls shooting out before my machine."

"They ought to." Teddy was losing his discouragement in this new prospect of coming to grips with Varrhus. "I say, will your machine burn readily?"

"Only the gas tank. The wings and struts are fireproof. New process."

Davis stood up suddenly.

"Would it bother you to come over and look at my machine? We could probably figure out the thing better then."

Teddy rose almost enthusiastically.

"We'll go over now if you say so."

The taxicab bearing Teddy and the young aviator down to the fort was forced to travel slowly amid the throngs of apprehensive people that overflowed the sidewalks and made the streets almost impassable. The launch took them swiftly to the fort, and in a few moments they had arrived at the small aviation field behind the fortifications on Staten Island. Davis led Teddy directly to the shed that contained the swift machine of which he was so proud. It was a splendid product of the aircraft maker's art. Twin Liberty Motors developed nearly eight hundred horse power between them, and two great shining propellers pulled the machine through the air with irresistible force.

"You see," said Davis, with some enthusiasm, "the motors aren't in the fusilage, so the gunner sits up here in the bow and can fire freely in any direction. The one-man planes with synchronized machine guns firing through the propeller aren't in it with these for real fighting. They're splendid little machines—I drove one in France—but I honestly believe this is better than they are. This one responds to the controls every bit as readily, and with a good gunner——"

"Machine gunner in France myself," said Teddy, touching his breast. "Would you take a chance on letting me sit up front to-night?"

"To-night?" asked Davis.

"I believe Varrhus will appear to drop another cold bomb to-night. It will probably be dropped inside the harbor so the ice cake will touch the Battery. That will set the people frantic, and make them beg the government to enter into a parley with Varrhus. It's paid no official attention to him so far, you know."

Davis' expression became keen and rather stern.

"We've four hours before dark. We'll have to set to work."

Teddy went over and stepped up the ladder that leaned against the cockpit.

"I want to see your gasoline supply," he remarked. In a moment he came down, looking a trifle dubious. "If I'm right about Varrhus using liquid hydrogen for a weapon, and we can set it afire, we'll dive through half a dozen sheets of flame to-night. Something will have to be done to protect that gas tank from catching fire, and some protection for the carburetors, too."

"We'll fix that in a hurry," said Davis briskly. "Oh, Simpson! Come here!"

In twenty minutes there were half a dozen mechanicians at work, and Teddy was carefully inspecting the machine gun at the bow of the fusilage.

Teddy telephoned back to Evelyn what he anticipated would occur that night and his own share in it.

"Of course there's some risk in it," he finished, "but I guess we'll come out."

Evelyn's voice was more anxious than Teddy had expected.

"Do be careful, Teddy," she said in a worried tone. "Please be very careful. Varrhus has so many fiendish weapons. I'm terribly afraid."

Teddy's voice was grim.

"With the kind assistance of the German government," he remarked, "we have a few fiendish inventions, too. I'm using explosive bullets only to-night. Varrhus is outlawed."

Evelyn spoke almost faintly.

"But take good care of yourself, please, Teddy," she urged. "It were better that Varrhus got away this once than that you should be killed for nothing."

Teddy smiled. "I've no intention of being killed, Evelyn, but I have some intention that Varrhus shall be."

There was a curious sound from the other end of the wire.

"But—but——" Evelyn's voice died away. "I'm—I'm going to be praying, Teddy. Good-by."

The last was very faint. Teddy turned from the instrument and went out to where the aëroplane had been rolled from its shed. The sun was sinking and dusk was falling. Time passed and darkness settled down upon the earth. Stars twinkled into being. A long searchlight poked a tentative finger of light into the sky.

"We'd better be going," said Davis thoughtfully. "We want to be well up before he appears."

Teddy clambered up to his seat and adjusted the straps that would hold him in place. He pulled down the helmet and fitted the telephone receivers securely over his ears. A telephone was necessary for communication with Davis, four feet behind him, because of the tremendous roar of the engines. He took the machine-gun butt and found the trigger, then made sure the first of a belt of cartridges was in place. He settled back in his seat as the mechanics began to twirl the propellers. He was going out to fight the black flyer, but most incongruously he was not thinking of Varrhus at all. His thoughts dwelt with strange intensity upon Evelyn.

CHAPTER VIII.

New York lay below them. The long, straight lines of lights shining up through the semidarkness of the moonlit night made a strange appearance to the two in the swift machine. Davis had mounted to a great height, some ten thousand feet, and the pin points of light outlined more than a dozen cities and towns. The Hudson was a faintly silvery ribbon flowing down placidly from a far-distant source. Because of the ice cake in the Narrows its level had risen two or three feet, but now it flowed smoothly over that great obstacle, melting and carrying it away toward the sea.

The fighting plane roared around in huge circles, seeming strangely alone in the vast expanse of air. One searchlight from below moved restlessly about the sky. A second joined it, then a third. One by one a dozen or more of long, pencil-like beams of light shot up into the sky and moved here and there in seeming confusion, but actually according to a carefully prearranged plan. A hooded red light showed below the biplane in which Teddy and Davis were awaiting some sign of the black flyer. That had been agreed upon, and none of the searchlight beams flashed upon the circling machine. From time to time Davis shut off the motors, and the two of them lifted the ear flaps of their helmets to listen eagerly for the musical humming that would herald Varrhus' approach.

Far to the east they could see where the faintly luminous waters of the ocean came up to and stopped at the darker masses of the land. The harbor below them glittered in the moonlight. The only peculiarity in the scene was the absence of the little harbor craft that ply about busily by day and night upon their multifarious errands. They were all securely docked. The wharves, too, were dark and silent. All the maritime industry of New York was at a standstill.

A wide spiral to twelve thousand feet. The motors were hushed during a two-thousand-feet glide, while the two men in the machine listened intently. For two hours this maneuver had been repeated and re-repeated. No sound save the rush of the wind through the guy wires and past the struts had broken the chilly stillness of the heights. The sky was a blue dome of a myriad winking lights. A pale silver moon shone down.

The nose of the machine pointed down and the motors ceased to roar. Faintly but unmistakably above the whistling and rushing of the wind about the surfaces of the biplane a deep, musical humming could be heard. Abruptly the motors burst into life again. The exhausts began to bellow out their reassuring thunder. The machine began to climb again, circling to every point of the compass, while Teddy and Davis scanned the sky keenly for a sign of the black flyer with its cargo of menace to New York.

"I'm going to fifteen thousand."

Davis' voice sounded with metallic clearness in Teddy's ear. The telephones between the two helmets were working perfectly.

"That was Varrhus, all right?" said Teddy quietly. "Did you signal to the people beneath?"

Davis pushed a button, and a green light glowed beside the red one in the hood below the machine. In a moment the receipt of this signal by those below was evidenced. The searchlights took up their task with renewed vigor, searching the sky frantically for a sign of the black flying machine. The hood below the biplane allowed the signal to be seen by those on the ground, but made the light invisible to any one in the air. The biplane swung in wide circles, Teddy and Davis with every nerve taut and every sense alert, aflame with eagerness to sight their quarry. They saw it, outlined for an instant by the white beam of one of the circling lights.

It was dropping like a stone from the clouds. The searchlight rays glistened from polished black sides and were reflected from shimmering propeller blades above it.

"Helicopter," said Davis crisply. "Now!"

The black flyer was a thousand feet below them and still falling. The nose of the biplane dipped sharply and it dived straight for the still falling machine. Teddy gripped the machine gun and sighted along the barrel. Down, down, the biplane darted, all the power of its eight hundred horse power aiding in the speed of its fall. The glistening black machine checked in its drop and hung motionless in mid-air. The pilot was evidently unconscious of the machine swooping down upon him.

Five hundred feet down, six hundred——Teddy pulled hard on the trigger, and his machine gun spurted fire.