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Tesseract, v. 2, issue 1, January 1937
6
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6 tesseract THE PLANET OF NO RETURN by J. Harvey Haggard Part Three Up in space above the asteroid the squadron of Space-Guard cruisers had retarded to a standstill, halting in mill-wheel formation. Gigantic ovoids they were, limned in the sun's glow from distant space, with their degravite screens slanted out into the void, catching at the etheric emanations of gravity which formed a propulsion power for the vessels. They seemed bulky and ponderous, floating with locked controls, where they had seemed sleek and trim at full acceleration but a few moments before. Those broad, trimlined hulks were known the Solar System across; like hawks they patrolled the planets, swooping down on wrongdoers. Blood had stained their decks and airlock apertures, and the slashing beams of dis-rays had been supplanted by rugged welded seams across the outer hulls. Thru broad glassite space-ports men could occasionally be climpsed, clad in resplendent uniforms of a silvery hue which caught at any chance reflection of the sun. Innocent enough in aspect! With locked gravity, the space-ships slowly spun around each other, while the Captain in Command reconnoitered, taking calculation upon the planet below. It looked like a waste of time, this wheeling before onslaught. Yet telescopes and various calculating devices were being trained swiftly and skillfully, weighing and gauging the planetoid below, analyzing its spectric atmospherical quality, determining atmospheric pressure, gravity, and other physical traits. Those observers with eyes glued to the manipulating devices were losing no time, and mechanical pointer-graphs slid across scaled papers, leaving an indelible ink-trail which was read instantly by eager watchful eyes. No waste of time this! More like the leopard, crouching to spring, or the cobra, coiling to strike. that was one rule of the Space-Guard - look before you strike! - so as not to go blindly charging into an enemy of incalculable potentialities - and then strike! Meanwhile, tense visages peered below from other transparent port-discs which surmounted huge swiveled carriages of massive space-weapons, where the watchful soldiers of the Guard crouched, near to the manipulator panels and cross-hair sighters which would swing long lethal snouts on the other side of the transparent disc into bearing, from which deadly rays would slash. The fire of anticipative battle-lust was glowing in each of these men's eyes. In the memory of many of them were comrades, who rode bravely down to death against a background of space, of disintegrating rays slashing, of gigantic space-ships crumbling away into nothingness. Fighting to the death, against immense odds- thus it had always been, when the minions of the Falcon had swept upon innocent unguarded space vessels laden with booty. Cruel and rapacious, there had been no quarter given, and as the officers of the Space-Guard looked downward through transparent glassite ports their teeth gritted and their cheeks corded. Something grim set led upon their faces, crowding back the gentler, compassionate emotions. They were resolved that the Falcon should die, as their comrades had died, without mercy, and they but awaite word from Commander Rasmon, whose lead ship formed the hub of their radiating formation, before winging out in battle line and one by one dropping downward in a swiftly accelerated zoom which would end in the ray-crossed battle-skies over the pirate planetoid. "100 miles across, sir", said Lieutenant Gorvor, turning from the radiophone which had contacted all of the calculator operators. "Massy for its size, and drags the surface grav up to one-tenth of earch-normal. To my knowledge it's the smallest inhabitable planetoid ever to be discovered in the entire belt. Its orbit is unmarked, and of course it is unnamed." "We'll name it Falcon's Doom," returned Commander Rasmon, grimly. He clenched his lean fist determinedly. "Ir probably wasn't very visible to observers on other planets because of the dense atmosphere which surrounds a relatively small body. It's refractory qualities would be something like those of a huge transparent drop of water with a speck of dust in the center. Light would bend right around the solid core." "That's pretty likely, sir," said Gorvor respectfully. "There's quite a noticeable prismatic coloration about the atmosphere surrounding the planet. There's no doubt
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6 tesseract THE PLANET OF NO RETURN by J. Harvey Haggard Part Three Up in space above the asteroid the squadron of Space-Guard cruisers had retarded to a standstill, halting in mill-wheel formation. Gigantic ovoids they were, limned in the sun's glow from distant space, with their degravite screens slanted out into the void, catching at the etheric emanations of gravity which formed a propulsion power for the vessels. They seemed bulky and ponderous, floating with locked controls, where they had seemed sleek and trim at full acceleration but a few moments before. Those broad, trimlined hulks were known the Solar System across; like hawks they patrolled the planets, swooping down on wrongdoers. Blood had stained their decks and airlock apertures, and the slashing beams of dis-rays had been supplanted by rugged welded seams across the outer hulls. Thru broad glassite space-ports men could occasionally be climpsed, clad in resplendent uniforms of a silvery hue which caught at any chance reflection of the sun. Innocent enough in aspect! With locked gravity, the space-ships slowly spun around each other, while the Captain in Command reconnoitered, taking calculation upon the planet below. It looked like a waste of time, this wheeling before onslaught. Yet telescopes and various calculating devices were being trained swiftly and skillfully, weighing and gauging the planetoid below, analyzing its spectric atmospherical quality, determining atmospheric pressure, gravity, and other physical traits. Those observers with eyes glued to the manipulating devices were losing no time, and mechanical pointer-graphs slid across scaled papers, leaving an indelible ink-trail which was read instantly by eager watchful eyes. No waste of time this! More like the leopard, crouching to spring, or the cobra, coiling to strike. that was one rule of the Space-Guard - look before you strike! - so as not to go blindly charging into an enemy of incalculable potentialities - and then strike! Meanwhile, tense visages peered below from other transparent port-discs which surmounted huge swiveled carriages of massive space-weapons, where the watchful soldiers of the Guard crouched, near to the manipulator panels and cross-hair sighters which would swing long lethal snouts on the other side of the transparent disc into bearing, from which deadly rays would slash. The fire of anticipative battle-lust was glowing in each of these men's eyes. In the memory of many of them were comrades, who rode bravely down to death against a background of space, of disintegrating rays slashing, of gigantic space-ships crumbling away into nothingness. Fighting to the death, against immense odds- thus it had always been, when the minions of the Falcon had swept upon innocent unguarded space vessels laden with booty. Cruel and rapacious, there had been no quarter given, and as the officers of the Space-Guard looked downward through transparent glassite ports their teeth gritted and their cheeks corded. Something grim set led upon their faces, crowding back the gentler, compassionate emotions. They were resolved that the Falcon should die, as their comrades had died, without mercy, and they but awaite word from Commander Rasmon, whose lead ship formed the hub of their radiating formation, before winging out in battle line and one by one dropping downward in a swiftly accelerated zoom which would end in the ray-crossed battle-skies over the pirate planetoid. "100 miles across, sir", said Lieutenant Gorvor, turning from the radiophone which had contacted all of the calculator operators. "Massy for its size, and drags the surface grav up to one-tenth of earch-normal. To my knowledge it's the smallest inhabitable planetoid ever to be discovered in the entire belt. Its orbit is unmarked, and of course it is unnamed." "We'll name it Falcon's Doom," returned Commander Rasmon, grimly. He clenched his lean fist determinedly. "Ir probably wasn't very visible to observers on other planets because of the dense atmosphere which surrounds a relatively small body. It's refractory qualities would be something like those of a huge transparent drop of water with a speck of dust in the center. Light would bend right around the solid core." "That's pretty likely, sir," said Gorvor respectfully. "There's quite a noticeable prismatic coloration about the atmosphere surrounding the planet. There's no doubt
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