Now that they were committed, and had embarked on the plan, all the questions they had raised before returned to plague them. And with the disappearance of the Searchers, Ben’s doubts redoubled.
For unless the belt could produce help, they were indeed on a suicide run. Ben was certain, from Elmo’s reports and his own knowledge of space logistics, that no ordinary space ship could hope to run the blockade and sneak into the Maze to the stronghold in the center without taking an enemy shell broadside. Only by becoming a phantom ship, like the ship of the Searchers themselves, could he hope to run the gauntlet successfully.
Out of the corner of his eye Ben saw a faint blip appear and fade on the radar screen. On the next cycle the signal was stronger, and the capsule at his belt began vibrating a little more strongly. Ben motioned Tom to the ‘scope, and a moment later Tom nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. “They’re there,” he said. “Just a little behind us, but there. They have their vision screen down; I can see the ship.”
“Then they must realize what we’re going to try to do,” Ben said. He grinned at his companion, some of the tension easing. “Who knows but we might make it yet?” All three of them were at the control panel now as the little ship carried them through the blackness toward the area where Asteroid Central would soon be passing in its orbit, surrounded by the great armada that held it in siege. Ben turned controls over to Tom while he ate a few bites of the meal Joyce had prepared, then lay down for an hour’s rest before resuming his vigil. Sleep was impossible, but he forced his tense muscles to relax. Presently he did doze, only to be awakened by Tom shaking his injured shoulder.
“Better take over,” Tom said. “I think we’ve just spotted the outside ring of the blockade.” Back at control, Ben stared through the ‘scope, scanning the segment of space ahead for signs of the gathering of Earth ships. Somewhere up there was the great Central asteroid, but neither Ben nor Tom could see it yet in the ‘scope, nor could they see the multitude of tiny rocks and debris whirling about it to form the dense protective screen of the Maze. But the ‘scope did pick up the faint shadow of a ship up ahead, and then another and another… the first circle of blockading Earth ships that held Asteroid Central trapped and helpless.
Carefully, Ben blacked out the ship’s lights and altered the course slightly, bringing the S-80 into the precise direction and orbital speed necessary to move parallel to the Central asteroid. Then, ever so slowly, he began edging the ship in toward the first circle of besieging ships he knew lay waiting.
In the darkness of the cabin, the tension became almost unbearable. More and more signals appeared on the radar screen—a dozen ships, two dozen. Still Ben edged in closer to them. Once the blockade was run, the Maze would be no problem, with the key recorded in special memory circuits in the ship’s computer. Then there would only be the danger of some Earth ship following him through. But with the intervening ships in a tightly drawn circle around the asteroid, the Maze seemed a million miles away.
A moment later Tom said, “There! I can see the asteroid now. And it looks like a swarm of bees are around it.”
“That’s right,” Ben said. “If only I can sneak in close enough to make a run for it, we’ll be plenty happy to have that swarm of bees for protection.”
“But it looks like we’re moving right through the blockade,” Tom said, looking at the radar screen.
“Don’t fool yourself. Watch the pattern there for a moment.” The shift in the pattern was subtle, but it was there. The little S-80 had moved into the first ring of ships without opposition. But now the ships behind them were beginning to close together, until Earth ships were on all sides of them. Tom watched incredulously. “Do you suppose they haven’t spotted us?” he asked.
“Oh, they’ve spotted us all right.”
“Then why don’t they challenge us?”
“There’s the reason,” Ben said, pointing to the screen. “Those two big fellows moving in on us.
They’re not sure we’re Spacer yet. They want us well covered before they flush us, just in case we are.
Meanwhile they’re trying to make up their minds what’s going on.” Suddenly there was a burst of static from the radio speaker, and then a sharp challenge. “You, there, moving in the pattern. Strike your engines and identify yourself.”
“Sorry, I’m drifting,” Ben snapped back into the microphone. “I’m trying to correct for my drift.” He let the little ship ease deeper into the pattern of blockade ships.
There was a moment of hesitation. Then the challenger’s voice came through again. “Identify yourself and tell me what’s wrong.”
“Something’s wrong with one of my gyros,” Ben replied.
“What ship are you? And who’s in command?” The voice was imperative now. “Mister, you’re warned. If you don’t kill your engines and identify yourself you’re going to be hit.” The two approaching ships were quite close now on the screen. Suddenly there was a flash from the forward tubes of the closest ship and a missile streaked toward them. “I guess that’s the end of their patience,” Ben said to Tom. “They’re firing now. Hold tight.” In the same breath he slammed down the four main drive switches. The tiny ship suddenly leaped forward like a frightened deer, heading straight for the center of the blockade.
The effect on the approaching ships was electrifying. Before, there had been caution and suspicion; now there was certainty. They knew an enemy was in their midst. Their radar told them it was a single ship moving in from outside, and its action left no doubt of its intent. This was no force attacking the blockading ships. This was a blockade runner, a straggler from the Spacer fleet making a desperate run for the Maze that surrounded Asteroid Central.
Now the radio was blaring a raucous alarm, and searchlight beams pierced the blackness from a dozen surrounding ships, probing with fingers of light to pick up the intruder. On the tracking screen Ben could see that the ships ahead were closing ranks sharply, and other ships were moving above and below him as well. Tom Barron watched the movement on the screen for a moment and turned to Ben in alarm. “You’d better move,” he said. “They’re closing up the hole behind you.”
“Let them,” Ben said tersely.
“But they can’t miss you if they open fire!”
“What are they going to fire with?” Ben said. “Not contact-detonating shells, that’s sure, with all the hardware they have out there. The best they can do is guide their shells until they’re sure they’re on us, and then detonate manually. And they’ve got to be able to see us to do that.” Ben broke off, suddenly aware of a powerful vibration at his waist. In the same moment a thought popped into his mind, and he reached a hand forward for the emergency generator switches far to the right on the control panel.
He was already throwing the switches when he realized with a jolt that the thought had not been his own at all.
There was a high-pitched whine from the engine room, and the lights on the control panel flickered.
Behind them, incredibly, something was happening to the two great Earth cruisers which had been bearing down on the little Spacer ship so swiftly. One swerved suddenly and drew back; the other faltered in its course, moving back and forth as if in confusion. At the same time an angry wave of chatter burst forth from the radio.
“Where did he go? Where did he go?”
“Darned thing vanished!”
“What do you mean, vanished? You moved between us to block my view.”
“You’re the one that’s blocking the view, you idiot.”
Now the whole defensive movement of the blockading ships was dissolving in confusion. Searchlights beat the darkness in wilder and wilder arcs, and the converging ships began scattering and circling as if their pilots had suddenly gone mad.