There's no such thing as a weapon too horribleto use; weapons will continue to become bigger,and deadlier. Like other things that can't bestopped....
IRRESISTIBLE WEAPON
By H. B. Fyfe
Illustrated by ED EMSH
In the special observationdome of the colossal commandship just beyond Pluto, every nervousclearing of a throat raspedthrough the silence. Telescopeswere available but most of thescientists and high officials preferredthe view on the huge telescreen.
This showed, from a distance ofseveral million miles, one of thesmall moons of the frigid planet, soinsignificant that it had not beendiscovered until man had pushedthe boundaries of space explorationpast the asteroids. The satellite wasabout to become spectacularly significant,however, as the first targetof man's newest, most destructiveweapon.
"I need not remind you, gentlemen,"white-haired Co-ordinatorEvora of Mars had said, "that ifwe have actually succeeded in thisrace against our former Centauriancolonies, it may well prevent theimminent conflict entirely. In afew moments we shall know whetherour scientists have developed atruly irresistible weapon."
Of all the officials, soldiers, andscientists present, Arnold Gibsonwas perhaps the least excited. Forone thing, he had labored hard tomake the new horror succeed andfelt reasonably confident that itwould. The project had been giventhe attention of every first-classscientific mind in the Solar System;for the great fear was that the newstates on the Centaurian planetsmight win the race of discoveryand ...
And bring a little order into thisold-fashioned, inefficient fumblingtoward progress, Gibson thoughtcontemptuously. Look at them—foolsfor all their degrees and titles!They've stumbled on somethingwith possibilities beyond their confusedpowers of application.
A gasp rustled through thechamber, followed by an even moreawed silence than had precededthe unbelievable, ultra-rapid actionon the telescreen. Gibson permittedhimself a tight smile of satisfaction.
Now my work really begins, hereflected.
A few quick steps brought himto Dr. Haas, director of the project,just before the less stunned observerssurrounded that gentleman,babbling questions.
"I'll start collecting the NumberThree string of recorders," he reported.
"All right, Arnold," agreed Haas."Tell the others to get their shipsout too. I'll be busy here."
Not half as busy as you will bein about a day, thought Gibson,heading for the spaceship berths.
He had arranged to be assignedthe recording machinesdrifting in space at the greatest distancefrom the command ship. Theothers would assume that he neededmore time to locate and retrievethe apparatus—which would givehim a head start toward AlphaCentauri.
His ship was not large, but it waspowerful and versatile to cope withany emergency that may have beenencountered during the dangeroustests. Gibson watched his instrumentscarefully for signs of pursuituntil he had put a few millionmiles between himself and the commandship. Then he eased his craftinto subspace drive and relaxed hisvigilance.
He returned to normal spacemany "days" later in the vicinityof Alpha Centauri. They mayhave attempted to follow him forall he knew, but it hardly matteredby then. He broadcast the recognitionsignal he had been given tomemorize long ago, when he hadvolunteered his services