He knew now, though, what the Hell-Hole really was. It was a cavern ofOverlords--couldn't be anything else--and in himself and his crew andhis mighty vessel he, the Overlord-slayer supreme of two galaxies, hadeverything it took to extirpate any number of Overlords. That Hell-Holewas just as good as out, as of that minute.
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"I think I see." Kit thought intensely. "The kids don't fight with eachother because they don't overlap. They fight with me because my centralfield overlaps them all. They have no occasion to fight with anybodyelse, nor have I, because with anybody else our viewpoint is alwaysright and the other fellow knows it--except for Palainians and such, whothink along different lines than we do. Thus, Kay never fights withNadreck. When he goes off the beam, she simply ignores him and goes onabout her business. But with them and me... we'll have to learn toarbitrate, or something, I suppose..." his thought trailed off.
He did so, and as he lay quiescent in his bunk the tiny pieces of anincredibly complex jig-saw puzzle began to click into place. Theordinary zwilniks--all the small fry fitted in well enough. TheOverlords of Delgon. The Kalonians... hm... he'd better check withdad on that angle. The Eich--under control. Kandron of Onlo, ditto. "X"was in safe hands; Cam had already been alerted to watch her step. Someplanet named Ploor--what in all the purple hells of Palain had Mentormeant by that crack? Anyway, that piece didn't fit anywhere--yet. Thatleft Eddore--and at the thought a series of cold waves raced up and downthe young Lensman's spine. Nevertheless, Eddore was his oyster--his, andnobody else's. Mentor had made that plain enough. Everything theArisians had done for umpteen skillions of years had been aimed at theEddorians. They had picked him out to emcee the show--and how could aman coordinate an attack against something he knew nothing about? Andthe only way to get acquainted with Eddore and its denizens was to gothere. Should he call in the kids? He should not. Each of them had herhands full of her own job; that of developing her own full self. He hadhis; and the more he studied the question, the clearer it became thatthe first number on the program of his self-development was--wouldhave to be--a single-handed expedition against the key planet ofCivilization's top-ranking foes.
"I think so. He does the nicest things--things that nobody else wouldthink of. You've all seen Red Lensman's Chit, in Brenleer's." This was astatement, not a question. They all had, with what emotions they allknew. "How would you like to have that one-cento piece, in athousand-credit frame, here in our main hall, with the legend 'won fromChristopher Kinnison for Kimball Kinnison by...' and our names? He'sgot something like that in mind, I'm sure."
"Yeah? Act your age, Harkleroy. I told you I had something up my sleevebesides my arm, and I meant it. Either I come as I am or I flitsomewhere else, to do business with somebody who wants this stuff badenough to act like half a man. 'Smatter--afraid you ain't got blastersenough in there to handle me?"
But the "Hell-Hole in Space" was not a cavern of Overlords. No sun, noplanet, nothing material existed within that spherical volume of space.But something was there. Slow as was the Velan's pace, it was stilltoo fast by far; for in a matter of seconds, through the supposedlyimpervious thought-screens, there came an attack of utterly malignantferocity; an assault which tore at Worsel's mind in a fashion he hadnever imagined possible; a poignant, rending, unbearably crescendo forcewhose violence seemed to double with every mile of distance.
"Mighty interesting, and I'd like to, but I'm right in the middle of ajob," Kinnison replied, and went on to explain rapidly what he, asBradlow Thyron, had done and what he still had to do. "As soon as I canget away I'll come over. In the meantime, chum, keep away from there. Doa flit--find something else to keep you amused until I can join you."
"Lyrane Nine... Lyrane Nine... Lyrane Nine... LYRANE NINE...and something I can't feel or sense or perceive that kills anybodyand everybody else... KLONO'S tungsten TEETH and CURVING CARBALLOYCLAWS!!!"
They approached their destination--cut the jets--felt for thevortex--found it--cut in the special generators. Then, as the fields ofthe ship reacted against those of the tube, every man aboard felt amalaise to which no being has ever become accustomed. Most men becomeimmune rather quickly to seasickness, to airsickness, and even tospacesickness. Inter-dimensional acceleration, however, is somethingelse. It is different--just how different cannot be explained to anyonewho has never experienced it.
The planet was airless, waterless, desolate; a chaotic jumble of hugeand jagged fragments of various metals in a non-metallic continuousphase. It was as though some playful child-giant of space had poureddipperfuls of silver, of iron, of copper, and of other granulated puremetals into a tank of something else--and then, tired of play, hadthrown the whole mess away!
"No use chasing them individually, is there, Kit?" Kinnison asked, whenit became clear in the tank that the real battle was over; that allresistance had ended. "They can't do anything, and this kind of killingmakes me sick at the stomach. Besides, I've got something else to do." 2ff7e9595c
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