Star Winds

Then he realized he would never have got away with it, and resignedly approached the baron to kneel before him, offering his hands in the attitude of prayer as had been shown to him earlier. Nearby stood Matello’s secretary, ready to prompt him.

The baron clasped Rachad’s hands in his. Slowly, though the words stuck in his throat, Rachad repeated the oath the secretary read out to him, swearing obedience, loyalty and truthfulness. With what seemed a measured perfunctoriness, the baron responded, accepting him into his household and promising protection and fair treatment.

When his hands were released Rachad stood up and walked away. It was done. He was under oath to Baron Goth Matello, Margrave of the Marsh Worlds, Protector of the Castarpos Moons, and liege to his Majesty King Lutheron the Third of Maralia.

Chapter EIGHT

Elegantly the Bucentaur raised sail and receded from Mars, curving round the Girdle of Demeter and then hurtling outward on the plane of the ecliptic.

In little over a week the orbit of Pluto had fallen far behind, even though the starship had extended but a few of her sails. Then, in interstellar space, the journey proper began.

For now she had moved into conditions of incomparably greater power than was available within the solar family; conditions from which the sun, like a mother, protected her planets with her own etheric atmosphere. Out here were ether winds on a stupendous scale, amassed from the outputs of billions of suns, creating processes affecting the entire galaxy.

This colossal system of invisible motion was what made interstellar sailflight possible. As the Bucentaur eased herself into the stream that was to carry her toward Maralia, her passengers sedated themselves and took to deep-cushioned bunks. The crew, too, took drugs that helped them to withstand the period of acceleration, though the potions were of a kind that did not bring on stupor, and in a well-drilled sequence more and more sail was run out.

The ship’s velocity mounted, became stupendous.

Then, after a few days, a remarkable change took place. A barrier seemed to have been broken, heralding new, pleasanter conditions. The sails remained at full stretch; but the bone-breaking pressure abruptly dropped to a comfortable one-half Earth normal which bore no relation to the ship’s actual rate of acceleration. The Earthmen on board were puzzled by this, especially when they were told that maneuvers which logically should have torn the ship to pieces (such as sudden changes in direction) could now be tackled without danger.

Rachad Caban, bunked deep down in the starship with the rest of Zhorga’s men, recovered his strength somewhat more quickly than the others. For the first time since coming aboard the stupendous Bucentaur he found himself unsupervised. He decided it would be a good opportunity to go exploring.

He wandered at length up companionways and through corridors which were still deserted for the most part. Eventually he found a hooded door, and on passing through it emerged, without warning, onto the main deck.

The view was breathtaking. The deck, the size of a large playing field, consisted of an immense expanse of polished planking waxed to the color of light honey. At least a hundred capstans studded it; and swelling over the major part of it like a giant glass cocoon was an enormous transparent air balloon.

There were towering superstructures whose nature was not immediately clear to Rachad. Farther down the deck, docked in special bays, were the three lighters, plus the fast reconnaissance craft, which the Bucentaur used for planetary contact—though she could, if the need arose, put down on most planets herself.

In order that Rachad and everyone else on board could stand upright on the floor, the ship currently traveled deck foremost. Rachad knew, however, that she could just as easily move stemward, sternward, sideways or even bottom first. On enormous booms extended from either side of the hull were arranged the sails that made such maneuverability possible; he now turned his attention to these.

They were even more spectacular than the deck itself, curving away and away into the void, their farther limits vanishing in the distance. And there were colors. Not just the shimmering blue Rachad was familiar with, but thousands of dazzling rainbow colors that crawled across the sails in evershifting moiré displays.

Rachad stared hypnotized, gaping in a dazed rapture.

Suddenly a slap on his face rocked him back on his heels. A voice snapped at him harshly. “Keep your eyes off the sails—the silk will trance your mind!”

Rachad swung blankly to his attacker, shocked out of his reverie. He found himself facing a neatly bearded sailor in a body-hugging striped tunic.