The Skylark of Space by E. E. Smith (books like beach read .TXT) 📕

saw the moisture in the air turn into snow, and saw the air itself first liquefy and then freeze into a solid coating upon the metal around the orifices at the touch of the frightful cold outside⁠—the absolute zero of interstellar space, about four hundred sixty degrees below zero in the everyday scale of temperature. The moisture of their breath condensed upon the inside of the double glasses of their helmets, rendering sight useless.

Dorothy pushed the other girl ahead of her. DuQuesne seized her and tossed her lightly through the doorway in such a manner that she would not touch the metal, which would have frozen instantly anything coming into contact with it. Seaton was waiting. Feeling a woman’s slender form in his arms, he crushed her to him in a mighty embrace, and was astonished to feel movements of resistance, and to hear a strange, girlish voice cry out:

“Don’t! It’s me! Dorothy’s next!”

Releasing her abruptly, he passed her on to Martin and turned just in time to catch his sweetheart, who, knowing that he would be there and recognizing his powerful arms at the first touch, returned his embrace with a fierce intensity which even he had never suspected that she could exert. They stood motionless, locked in each other’s arms, while DuQuesne dove through the opening and snapped the door shut behind him.

The air-pressure and temperature back to normal, the cumbersome suits were hastily removed, and Seaton’s lips met Dorothy’s in a long, clinging caress. DuQuesne’s cold, incisive voice broke the silence.

“Every second counts. I would suggest that we go somewhere.”

“Just a minute!” snapped Crane. “Dick, what shall we do with this murderer?”

Seaton had forgotten DuQuesne utterly in the joy of holding his sweetheart in his arms, but at his friend’s words, he faced about and his face grew stern.

“By rights, we ought to chuck him back into his own tub and let him go to the devil,” he said savagely, doubling his fists and turning swiftly.

“No, no, Dick,” remonstrated Dorothy, seizing his arm. “He treated us very well, and saved my life once. Anyway, you mustn’t kill him.”

“No, I suppose not,” grudgingly assented her lover, “and I won’t, either, unless he gives me at least half an excuse.”

“We might iron him to a post?” suggested Crane, doubtfully.

“I think there’s a better way,” replied Seaton. “He may be able to work his way. His brain hits on all twelve, and he’s strong as a bull. Our chance of getting back isn’t a certainty, as you know.” He turned to DuQuesne.

“I’ve heard that your word is good.”

“It has never been broken.”

“Will you give your word to act as one of the party, for the good of us all, if we don’t iron you?”

“Yes⁠—until we get back to the earth. Provided, of course, that I reserve the right to escape at any time between now and then if I wish to and can do so without injuring the vessel or any member of the party in any way.”

“Agreed. Let’s get busy⁠—we’re altogether too close to that dud there to suit me. Sit tight, everybody, we’re on our way!” he cried, as he turned to the board, applied one notch of power, and shut off the attractor. The Skylark slowed down a trifle in its mad fall, the other vessel continued on its way⁠—a helpless hulk, manned by a corpse, falling to destruction upon the bleak wastes of a desert world.

“Hold on!” said DuQuesne sharply. “Your power is the same as mine was, in proportion to your mass, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then our goose is cooked. I couldn’t pull away from it with everything I had, couldn’t even swing out enough to make an orbit, either hyperbolic or elliptical around it. With a reserve bar you will be able to make an orbit, but you can’t get away from it.”

“Thanks for the dope. That saves our wasting some effort. Our power-plant can be doubled up in emergencies, thanks to Martin’s cautious old bean. We’ll simply double her up and go away from here.”

“There is one thing we didn’t consider quite enough,” said Crane, thoughtfully. “I started to faint back there before the full power of even one motor was in use. With the motor doubled, each of us will be held down by a force of many tons⁠—we would all be helpless.”

“Yes,” added Dorothy, with foreboding in her eyes, “we were all unconscious on the way out, except Dr. DuQuesne.”

“Well, then, Blackie and I, as the huskiest members of the party, will give her the juice until only one of us is left with his eyes open. If that isn’t enough to pull us clear, we’ll have to give her the whole works and let her ramble by herself after we all go out. How about it, Blackie?” unconsciously falling into the old Bureau nickname. “Do you think we can make it stop at unconsciousness with double power on?”

DuQuesne studied the two girls carefully.

“With oxygen in the helmets instead of air, we all may be able to stand it. These special cushions keep the body from flattening out, as it normally would under such a pressure. The unconsciousness is simply a suffocation caused by the lateral muscles being unable to lift the ribs⁠—in other words, the air-pumps aren’t strong enough for the added work put upon them. At least we stand a chance this way. We may live through the pressure while we are pulling away, and we certainly shall die if we don’t pull away.”

After a brief consultation, the men set to work with furious haste. While Crane placed extra bars in each of the motors and DuQuesne made careful observations upon the apparent size of the now plainly visible world toward which they were being drawn so irresistibly, Seaton connected the helmets with the air⁠—and oxygen⁠—tanks through a valve upon the board, by means of which he could change at will the oxygen content of the air they breathed. He then placed the strange girl, who seemed dazed by the frightful