Dane's response was automatic. Inwardly, he was the prey of conflicting emotions. Resentment at Brooke's former treatment of him made him hold back somewhat. But there was the knowledge that she had deserted the world she loved, that she had left East Bayard for him. Those things crowded old hurts out of his mind. His arras tightened about her.
Suddenly he started.
"You're shaking, Brooke! Good heavens, I forgot you aren't dressed for this cold. Here—"
He had his own coat off in a minute and threw it about her. Then he hurried her off down the hill toward the Rulers' House. Margo followed quickly, solicitous of her unexpected guest's wants. Last to come was Kris, a frowning and a puzzled man.
IO ROLLED, and again a small, sickly white sun bounced above the jagged scraps. The new day was filled with plans, labors, fears. Samuel Cabot gave out word that the draft system would be used in selecting the first passenger list. Persons under the age of three Jovian years—thirty-six Earthly years—were the first to go. If there were room for more, they would be selected for their youth.
These five-hundred thousand would be carried in a hundred huge transports, approximately three thousand to the ship. Fifty thousand fighting men would man the ten great warships. From the edge of the huge square in the middle of the city, Dane watched the soldiers load the fighting craft. Nile Vanz strode about, shouting orders. He kept a staff of twenty-five orderlies on the jump every minute. And he got results. The warships' holds filled rapidly with food and battle supplies, with an astonishing lack of confusion.
Afterward, Dane went up on the knoll with his father and Brooke. Tolek Serj strutted through the intensifying plant, pompous and important. Dane had not seen Margo all day. He found her absence created a depression in him that even Brooke's vivacity could not erase entirely. Sam Cabot took them then through the plant and explained the work that was being done.
"Practically our only form of power comes from Red Spot concentrate.[1] Without enough concentrate, our ships might easily be marooned in space forever. Hence, this fuss and bustle to cram the holds full of crystals."
Brooke's eyes shone with interest.
"How superior to our Earthly ships!" she marveled. "I suppose your guns are equally efficient?"
"Easily. If we are driven to it, we can annihilate all of New York in a few hours."
"When will we be leaving to attack?"
"I thought, before, the day after tomorrow. But Nile Vanz' tremendous capacity for organization makes me think we may be able to leave by noon tomorrow! That is, the warships alone, first. The transport-fleet will follow in a day or so."
Brooke regarded the fiery red vats with distaste.
"If only The Hundred will listen to reason! I should hate to see all those men and women butchered . . ."
"So should we all," Cabot said crisply. "But if Loren Bayard won't give up without a struggle—the blood will be on his hands, not ours."
Through that day and half the night the work went on. Six hours from
- ↑ This concentrate yields the deadliest explosive ever seen, a most savage destructive ray, and an ultra-efficient magnetic material. A charge of concentrate in stem and how of a space ship creates a column of disturbed ionization extending in any direction the pilot chooses to send it. Up or down this column the ship climbs by a sort of magnetization.—Ed.
