Astounding Science Fiction (British Edition), April 1944 — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

RECOIL 7 healthy hundred miles per second and you decide that since she is hitting it up at 2-G, you’d have to start from scratch at a heck of a lot better to catch her within the next couple of light years. “So you give up, join the Congregational Church and pass the collection plate every Sunday.” “But suppose you took the course as laid and applied the same acceleration? Suppose you followed on the heels of your quarry until you were both in space? You -:ould do it then, couldn’t you?” “Gosh,” said Channing, “I never thought of that. That’s the only way a guy could pirate a ship—unless he planted his men aboard and they mutinied.” “Then it might be pirates “It might be,’ admitted Channing. “It'd have to occur near beginning or end, of course, though. I can’t think of anything safer than being shot at out of a gun of any kind while both crates are hitting it up at a couple of hundred miles per second and at a distance of a few miles apart. It would be all right if you were both running free, but at 2-G acceleration, you’d have to do quite a bit of ballistic gymnastics to score a hit.” “Or run in front of your quarry and sow a bouquet of mines.” “Except that the meteor detector would show the position of the pirate craft in the celestrial globe and the interconnecting cir- cuits would cause the treasure ship to veer off at a sharp angle. Shucks, Doug, this thing has got too many angles to it. I can’t begin to run it off either way. No matter how difficult it may sound, there are still ways and means to do it. The one thing that stands out like a sore thumb is the fact that the Solar Queen has turned up missing. Since no inanimate agency could cause failure, piracy is the answer.” “You're. sure of that?” “Not positive. There are things that might cause the ship to founder. But what they are depend upon too many coincidences. It’s like hitting a royal flush on the deal, or filling a full house from two pair.” “Well, thanks, Channing. I’m heading back to Canalopsis right now. Want to come along?” Channing looked at Arden, who was com- ing from the dressing room carrying her coat and he nodded. “The gal says yes,” he grinned. “Annoy her until I find my shoes, will you?” Arden wrinkled her nose at Don. “T’ll like that,” she said to Doug. 399 The trip from Lincoln Head to Canalopsis was a fast one. Doug Thomas drove the little flier through the thin air of Mars at a breakneck speed and covered the twelve hundred miles in just shy of two hours. At the spaceport, Channing found that he was not denied the entrance as the reporter had been. He was ushered into the office of Keg Johnson in record time, and the manager of the Canalopsis Spaceport greeted Don with a worried expression on his face. “Still gone,” he said cryptically. “Like the job of locating her?” Don shook his head with a sympathetic smile. “Like trying to find a grain of sand on a beach—a specified grain, I mean. Wouldn’t know how to go about it.” Keg nodded. “I thought as much. That leaves her out of the picture. Well, up to now space travel has been about as safe as spend- ing the evening in your easy-chair. Hello, Arden, how’s married life?” “Can’t tell yet,” she said with a twinkle. “I’ve got to find out whether I can break him of a dozen bad habits before V1ll commit myself.” “TY wish you luck, Arden, although from that statement, it’s Don that needs the luck.” ““‘We came to see if there was anything we could do about the Solar Queen,” offered Channing. “What can anybody do?” asked Keg with spread hands. “About all we can do is to put it down in our remembrances and turn to tomorrow. Life goes on, you know,” said Keg in a resigned tone, “and either we keep up or we begin to live in the past. Are you going to stay here for a day or two?” “Was thinking about it,” said Don. “Well, suppose you register at the Terra- land and meet me back here for lunch. If anything occurs, Pll shoot you a quickie.” Keg looked at his watch and whistled. “Lordy,” he said ruefully. “I didn’t know how late it was. Look, kids, Pll run you downtown myself, and we'll all have lunch at the Terraland. How’s that?” “Sounds better,” admitted Channing. “My appetite, you know.” “I know,” laughed Arden. “Come on, meat-eater, and we'll peel a calf.” It was during lunch that a messenger raced into the dining room and handed Keg a letter. Keg read, and then swore roundly. He tossed the letter across the table to Don and Arden. 7 To the Operators of all Spacelines: : It has come to my attention that your ships require protection. The absence of the Solar oO comiclooks (©)