The Prodigal Sun by Philip E High

Author:Philip E High [High, Philip E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci-Fi., Science Fiction
Publisher: Ace Books
Published: 2017-12-12T00:00:00+00:00

"Pullman, come here a minute."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

PULLMAN CAME OVER quickly, flicking the pocket computer back to zero. "Important?"

"I think I've a lead. The position as I see it is this: Duncan is doing an alternate and, to my mind, a very clever one. He's doing a zig-zag at different speeds and, to confuse us, cutting the image briefly but there's one thing we've all overlooked—he must be going somewhere. A man of his caliber wouldn't make a blind run for freedom unless he had some sort of refuge in mind. Obviously, then, he's heading somewhere which, to him, represents concealment or safety. I don't think it's near enough to pinpoint yet but if we can plot a general route we might be able to block it."

"If not ahead, I'm level with you." Pullman pressed buttons .at the side of the operations table which measured given angles, bisected map degrees and came up with carefully tabulated results.

After exactly eleven seconds with his computer he said, "Ah," and reached for the chalk. "Way out here." He drew two widely separated parallel lines across the map.

"Now we're getting somewhere." Cottew took an empty pipe out of his pocket and thrust the stem between his teeth. "Better still he's going out over the sea which for him is going to be damn dangerous."

"Here I'm way behind you. Why?"

"That device of his is far ahead of our technology but it can't perform miracles. It slows vision and sound so that we see what the flyer is doing fifteen minutes after it's done it but that is its limit. The flyer, the real flyer, still has physical effects on its surroundings. It still pushes air out of its way at high speed although we have to wait fifteen minutes to hear the noise. Now"—Cottew took the empty pipe out of his mouth and frowned at the bowl—"when Duncan gets over the sea he must still fly low and the flyer will still push air out of its way—"

"I'm ahead of you now." Pullman looked excited. "Unless Duncan keeps that flyer to a virtual crawl, his progress is going to disturb the surface of the water. If he pushes that kite the surface disturbance will show up like the wake of a ship."

"Yes." Cottew thrust the pipe back in his pocket. "And, if he goes too slow, sooner or later, we can plot from the image, draw an arc, say somewhere along that line and plaster the whole length of it."

Pullman grinned. "Nicely tied up but in a way it's something of a shame, isn't it? I mean, he put up such a damn good show, it seems unsporting."

Cottew shook his head slowly. "This is not the age of sportsmanship." He looked at the other with faint amusement. "A rabid sentimentalist in this set-up strikes me as incongruous."

Pullman laughed. "But for our long years of friendship I'd resent that." He shook his head thoughtfully. "I must confess I do keep raising my hat to a man pushing that ship flat out at zero feet without instruments.

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