Chapter XV: Powart Strikes

From then on until the end the doctor was out of it. Try as he might, he could find no other mind with which to connect, no other view-point like his own. He had to content himself with what the others learned.

Their knowledge of the rescue stopped short soon after the Cobulus, with its living freight, quitted the prison grounds. Reblong, as Smith watched, continued to operate the engines during about two hundred miles of flight; then Fort, having shown one of his new comrades how to steer, came down to the instruments, leading the force of cleaners whom he had kidnaped.

“Thanks very much,” to Reblong, in the voice of a man who was having the time of his life. “I dare say you feel a little sour about this; but later on you can have the satisfaction of having helped, even though against your will.”

“What are you going to do now?” Reblong wanted to know as the athlete released him from his chair. The other Capellans were content to stare and listen.

The strange glint came back into Fort’s eyes. “It’s up to you, folks!” And he explained the situation, making it clear that they, the cruiser’s workmen, would not dare return and tell the truth, for fear of punishment for disloyalty. In the end the Cobulus was halted, and Reblong and the rest were set down in an unsettled mountain country, with enough supplies to last a year.

Thus the engineer became a fugitive. Smith learned nothing further from him. For all practical purposes, the investigation was narrowed down to what Billie, through Mona, and her husband, through Powart, were able to uncover. But it was enough; enough to strain their imaginations to the snapping point, and make all four doubt their new-found senses.

Van Emmon declared that he intended to warn Powart that his plan was suspected. “It’s only fair,” stoutly, “after what you told Fort, through Mona.” And Billie had no answer to that.

So the geologist watched the chief closely, finding it decidedly hard to catch him in the required state of semiconsciousness. Apparently Powart was always alert, even up to the exact moment of going to sleep; after which he invariably slept like a log, but awakening with a start, bolt upright in bed. But Van Emmon continued to watch his chance.

Meanwhile another message had been received from the Alma expedition. It ran as follows, after decoding:

People here are planning to construct a great fleet to visit Hafen and Holl about the middle of next year. To carry a regular army of missionaries, to preach the gospel of social democracy.

Better make the most of your reign while it lasts, Mr. Powart. Married yet?

The chairman was glad to get this, rather than otherwise. Somehow the thing strengthened his whole plan. From his standpoint the proposed invasion of missionaries “to preach the gospel of social democracy,” was far more to be feared than a military invasion.

So, although he made certain changes in the message, he did not have to counterfeit his earnestness when he presented the matter to his staff, the former commission. Perhaps the expedition’s last remark, “Married yet?” had something to do with the vigor of his tones.

“They are planning,” he told the nine, “to undo all that our civilization has accomplished. Unless we can circumvent them, Hafen and Holl will be turned into bedlam.”

He lost no time about what he had next to say. “Knowing what we do about Alma’s designs upon us, I believe that it would be folly to wait until we are attacked. They doubtless possess inventions against which we would be powerless; they are such highly advanced people in such matters. So what I propose is to prevent them from attacking us at all!”

He paused portentously, finding in each face before him an anxious excitement which was exactly what he wanted. They were hanging breathlessly upon his words.

“Let me remind you that Alma is not only our nearest neighbor in the solar system, but that, at present, only a few million miles separate us. She is within a few weeks of the nearest point. Furthermore”--speaking with care--”we must remember that Alma is not only nearer the sun than we are, but it is a much older planet. Were it not for the glass with which she is completely roofed in, the people would suffer from lack of air. In short, this roof of theirs is vitality itself to them. Now, my campaign--subject to your suggestions and advices--shall be to puncture that roof!”