Part 3 (1/2)

Out of the pursuer's range, he set an erratic course for the sun and called to Arna.

For three clock periods they hugged blazing, searing p.r.o.nuleon in an orbit that was almost too close for safety. Refrigeration units strained far beyond specified tolerances. Twice, tail toward the inferno for minimum radiation absorption, they barely fought clear of stupendous, surging tentacles of the s.h.i.+fting, agonized gravitational fields of p.r.o.nuleon. But they could not be detected so close to a raging sun.

Arna, wretched and exhausted, the thin fabric of a single garment clinging wetly to her body, leaned wearily against the throne. ”Isn't it possible they think we took a fast course for Sol?” she sighed.

”Very probable,” Sy whispered gauntly. Only an hour before he had revealed what the girl already suspected--that his code message had been the long-awaited signal for the entire Interstellar League fleet to ring the void about p.r.o.nuleon II. ”But on this mission we can't take chances.”

Arna laughed feebly. ”Can't take chances!” she echoed, and shook her head.

Sy attempted a smile, sopped the streaming sweat from his eyes and studied a chronometer. He clamped a drinking tube, then let it fall from his mouth. ”Get on some clothes and G-shoes, woman. We're going to keep an appointment.”

The _Needle's_ rotation slowly died; the vessel turned, lined up with p.r.o.nuleon's...o...b..t, burst her bonds with a tangential spurt and then arced away from the seething fury behind.

Free of the obliterating sea of sun static, Sy threw open all detection and reception circuits and flung his detector field to its farthest reaches, dimming its accuracy but increasing its range. Immediately he stared in consternation at the activity in the three-dimensional depths of his screen. ”Arna!” he called hoa.r.s.ely. ”Arna!” The girl ran clinkingly to him on jointed shoe-plates. ”We're d.a.m.n near too late,” he groaned. ”Look, the fleets are approaching each other!” The tiny red screen dot which indicated their position showed them to be on a course that would slice directly between both fleets. Sy leaped from the throne and fairly threw Arna into its confines. He braced his metal-shod feet on the deck and seized a ring cleat beside the control panel. ”Steady as you go!” he gritted. ”This is it--and we've got to make it!”

”Sy! Can you control the gadgets from this distance?”

”Yeah--but we've got to stay in planetary range. _Don't leave the p.r.o.nuleon system._” His fingers sped along a row of k.n.o.bs. ”I've got to call our fleet.”

”Contact the fleet _now_? But Sy--”