un is, from
right ascension about six hours, declination about plus fourteen
degrees. Distance unknown, but probably hundreds of light-years. Trace
my call. One Nevian ship is overhauling us slowly, another is coming
toward us from the sun. We may or may not be able to dodge it, but we
need all the help you can give us. Samms--Rodebush--Cleveland--anybody
of Triplanetary...."

Endlessly the faint, faint voice went on, but Rodebush and Cleveland
were no longer listening. Sensitive ultra-loops had been swung, and
along the indicated line shot Triplanetary's super-ship at a velocity
which she had never before even approached; the utterly
incomprehensible, almost incalculable velocity attained by inertialess
matter, driven through an almost perfect vacuum by the _Boise_'s maximum
projector blast--a blast which would lift her stupendous normal tonnage
against a gravity five times that of earth's! At the full frightful
measure of that velocity the super-ship literally annihilated distance,
while ahead of her the furiously driven, but scarcely faster spy-ray
beam tore on in quest of the three Terrestrials who were calling for
help.

"Got any idea how fast we're going?" Rodebush demanded, glancing up for
an instant from the observation plate. "We should be able to see him,
since we could hear him, and our range is certainly as great as anything
he can have."

"No, can't figure velocity without any reliable data on how many atoms
of matter exist per cubic meter out here." Cleveland was staring at the
calculator. "It's constant, of course, at the value at which the
friction of the medium is equal to our thrust. Incidentally, we can't
hold it long. We're running a temperature, which shows that we're
stepping along faster than anybody ever computed before. Taking
Throckmorton's estimates it figures somewhere near the order of
magnitude of ten to the twenty-seventh. Fast enough, anyway, so you'd
better bend an eye on that plate. Even after you see him you won't know
anything about where he really is, because we don't know any of the
velocities involved--our own, his, or that of the beam--and we may be
right on top of him."

"Or, if we are outrunning the beam, we won't see him at all. That makes
it nice piloting."

"How are you going to handle things when we get there?"

"Lock to them and take them aboard if we're in time. If not, if they are
fighting already--_there they are_!"

The picture of the speedster's control room