“I don’t like the problem at all—” Gunnar complained. “Just where is Grim Hagen?”
“He must be having as much trouble beating his way to that dust-cloud as we are,” Ato assured him. And then, doubtfully, he added. “But he has more energy. The Old Space Ship was sitting there below Aldebaran for years and years. He surely took advantage of the time to replenish his fuel. All the while, we were using ours up in an effort to find him.”
Jack Odin’s science did not go far enough to pursue the conversation. He knew that their power was something like a solar battery. When in gear, the current that went through the “frame” of the hour-glass-shaped craft turned it into a huge blob of plasma, a miniature nebula, and hurled it into space. As for the Fourth Drive, he hadn’t the slightest idea how it worked. Ato had said that the scientists who developed it were not sure—just as men had developed generators long before they knew the laws that governed them. Ato had a theory that the Fourth Gear slid the ship from plane to plane. If a bug were crawling along a million mile spiral of wire, he might go on until he died before getting anywhere—but if he simply lumbered across the intervening space to the next coil, would he have traveled a short distance, or a million miles? Ato had also told Odin that the ship took energy from the gravitational field that it created when traveling at tremendous speeds, so that the motors were 99% efficient.
Ato set a course for the distant star, and in a short while it was looming upon the screen with sheets of atomic flame leaping out like the teeth of a circular saw. One huge explosion flicked a long tongue of heat at them. The corona of the sun gleamed and writhed like a thin band of quicksilver.
“We’re going in there,” Ato decided. “It’s the quickest way.”
Warnings were sounded all through the ship. The screens were turned off now, as no eye could have survived the sight of that flaming ball which was rushing toward them at such extraordinary speed.
The ship groaned as it hit the corona. Vast whirlwinds of flame shook it. The motors coughed and spat. Then the gyroscopes took over. It steadied itself and went through. Like a moth fluttering through a candle-flame, The Nebula drew away from the star. But this moth was unharmed—and a million cells had drunk so much energy that the ship reeled with its power.
On and on. In zig-zag pursuit of Grim Hagen, they crashed through Trans-Space. The dust-cloud loomed larger now upon their screens. It was still no larger than a baseball, though it must have been millions of miles across.