Mannion raised an eyebrow. "That ought to rock them," he said.
"They were eager to talk to us," I said. "That means they want
something, in my opinion. And all the big talk sounds like a bluff of
our own is our best line."
"Why do you want to antagonize them, Captain?" Joyce asked. "That ship
is over a thousand times the size of this can."
"Joyce, I suggest you let me forget you're around," I said.
* * * * *
The Mancji whine was added to my message, and it went out. Moments later
this came back:
MANCJI HONOR DICTATES YOUR SAFE-CONDUCT; TALK IS WEARYING; WE FIND
IT CONVENIENT TO SOLICIT A TRANSFER OF ELECTROSTATIC FORCE.
"What the devil does that mean?" I said. "Tell them to loosen up and
explain themselves."
Mannion wrote out a straight query, and sent it. Again we waited for a
reply.
It came, in a long windy paragraph stating that the Mancji found
electro-static baths amusing, and that "crystallization" had drained
their tanks. They wanted a flow of electrons from us to replenish their
supply.
"This sounds like simple electric current they're talking about,
Captain," Mannion said. "They want a battery charge."
"They seem to have power to burn," I said. "Why don't they generate
their own juice? Ask them; and find out where they learned Interlingua."
Mannion sent again; the reply was slow in coming back. Finally we got
it:
THE MANCJI DO NOT EMPLOY MASSIVE GENERATION-PIECE WHERE
ACCUMULATOR-PIECE IS SUFFICIENT. THIS SIMPLE TRADE SPEECH IS OF OLD
KNOWLEDGE. WE SELECT IT FROM SYMBOLS WE ARE PLEASED TO SENSE
EMPATTERNED ON YOUR HULL.
That made some sort of sense, but I was intrigued by the reference to
Interlingua as a trade language. I wanted to know where they had learned
it. I couldn't help the hope I started building on the idea that this
giant knew our colony, in spite of the fact that they were using an
antique version of the language, predating Omega by several centuries.
I sent another query, but the reply was abrupt and told nothing except
that Interlingua was of "old knowledge."
Then Mannion entered a long technical exchange, getting the details of
the kind of electric power they wanted.
"We can give them what they want, no sweat, Captain," he said after half
an hour's talk. "They want DC; 100 volt, 50 amp will do."
"Ask them to describe themselves," I directed. I was beginning to get an
idea.
Mannion sent, got his reply. "They're molluscoid, Captain," he said. He
looked shocked. "They weigh about two tons each."
"Ask them what they eat," I said.
I turned to Joyce as Mannion worked over the message. "Get Kramer up
here, on the double," I said.
* * * * *
Kramer came in five minutes later, looking drawn and rumpled. He stared
at me sullenly.
"I'm releasing you from arrest temporarily on your own parole, Major," I
said. "I want you to study the reply to our last transmission, and tell
me what you can about it."
"Why me?" Kramer said. "I don't know what's going on." I didn't answer
him.
There was a long tense half hour wait before Mannion copied out the
reply that came in a stuttering nasal. He handed it to me.
As I had hoped, the message, after a preliminary recital of the
indifference of the Mancji to biological processes of ingestion, recited
a list of standard biochemical symbols.
"Can we eat this stuff?" I asked Kramer, handing him the sheet.
He studied it, and some of his accustomed swagger began to return. "I
don't know what the flowery phrases are all about, but the symbols refer
to common proteins, lipins, carbohydrates, vitamins, and biomins," he
said. "What is this, a game?"
"All right, Mannion," I said. I was trying to hold back the excitement.
"Ask them if they have fresh sources of these substances aboard."
The reply was quick; they did.
"Tell them we will exchange electric power for a supply of these foods.
Tell them we want samples of half a dozen of the natural substances."
Again Mannion coded and sent, received and translated, sent again.
"They agree, Captain," he said at last. "They want us to fire a power
lead out about a mile; they'll come in close and shoot us a specimen
case with a flare on it. Then we can each check the other's
merchandise."
"All right," I said. "We can use a ground-service cable; rig a pilot
light on it, and kick it out, as soon as they get in close."
"We'll have to splice a couple of extra lengths to it," Mannion said.
"Go to it, Mannion," I said. "And send two of your men out to make the
pick-up." This wasn't a communications job, but I wanted a reliable man
handling it.
I returned to the bridge and keyed for Bourdon, directed him to arm two
of his penetration missiles, lock them onto the stranger, and switch
over to my control. With the firing key in my hand, I stood at the
televideo screen and watched for any signs of treachery. The ship moved
in, came to rest filling the screen.
Mannion's men reported out. I saw the red dot of our power lead move
away, then a yellow point glowed on the side of the vast iodine-colored
wall looming across the screen.
Nothing else emerged from the alien ship. The red pilot drifted across
the face of the sphere. Mannion reported six thousand feet of cable out
before the pilot disappeared abruptly.
"Captain," Mannion reported, "they're drawing power."
"O.K.," I said. "Let them have a sample, then shut down."
I waited, watching carefully, until Mannion reported the cannister
inside.
"Kramer," I said. "Run me a fast check on the samples in that
container."
Kramer was recovering his swagger. "You'll have to be a little more
specific," he said. "Just what kind of analysis do you have in mind? Do
you want a full...."
"I just want to know one thing, Kramer," I said. "Can we assimilate
these substances, yes or no. If you don't feel like co-operating, I'll
have you lashed to your bunk, and injected with them. You claim you're a
medical officer; let's see you act like one." I turned my back to him.
Mannion called. "They say the juice we fed them was 'amusing,' Captain.
I guess that means it's O.K."
"I'll let you know in a few minutes how their samples pan out," I said.
* * * * *
Kramer took half an hour before reporting back. "I ran a simple check
such as I normally use in a routine mess inspection," he began. He
couldn't help trying to take the center of the stage to go into his Wise
Doctor and Helpless Patient routine.
"Yes or no," I said.
"Yes, we can assimilate most of it," he said angrily. "There were six
samples. Two were gelatinous substances, non-nutritive. Three were
vegetable-like, bulky and fibrous, one with a high iodine content; the
other was a very normal meaty specimen."
"Which should we take?" I said. "Remember your teeth when you answer."
"The high protein, the meaty one," he said. "Marked '6'."
I keyed for Mannion. "Tell them that in return for 1,000 KWH we require
3,000 kilos of sample six," I said.
Mannion reported back. "They agreed in a hurry, Captain. They seem to
feel pretty good about the deal. They want to chat, now that they've got
a bargain. I'm still taping a long tirade."
"Good," I said. "Better get ready to send about six men with an
auxiliary pusher to bring home the bacon. You can start feeding them the
juice again."
I turned to Kramer. He was staring at the video image. "Report yourself
back to arrest in quarters, Kramer," I said. "I'll take your services
today into account at your court-martial."
Kramer looked up, with a nasty grin. "I don't know what kind of talking
oysters you're trafficking with, but I'd laugh like hell if they
vaporized your precious tub as soon as they're through with you." He
walked out.
Mannion called in again from ComSection. "Here's their last, Captain,"
he said. "They say we're lucky they had a good supply of this protein
aboard. It's one of their most amusing foods. It's a creature they
discovered in the wild state and it's very rare. The wild ones have died
out, and only their domesticated herds exist."
"O.K., we're lucky," I said. "It better be good or we'll step up the
amperage and burn their batteries for them."
"Here's more," Mannion said. "They say it will take a few hours to
prepare the cargo. They want us to be amused."
I didn't like the delay, but it would take us about 10 hours to deliver
the juice to them at the trickle rate they wanted. Since the sample was
O.K., I was assuming the rest would be too. We settled down to wait.
I left Clay in charge on the bridge and made a tour of the ship. The
meeting with the alien had apparently driven the mood of mutiny into the
background. The men were quiet and busy. I went to my cabin and slept
for a few hours.
* * * * *
I was awakened by a call from Clay telling me that the alien had
released his cargo for us. Mannion's crew was out making the pick-up.
Before they had maneuvered the bulky cylinder to the cargo hatch, the
alien released our power lead.
I called Kramer and told him to meet the incoming crew and open and
inspect the cargo. If it was the same as the sample, I thought, we had
made a terrific trade. Discipline would recover if the men felt we still
had our luck.
Then Mannion called again. "Captain," he said excitedly, "I think there
may be trouble coming. Will you come down, sir?"
"I'll go to the bridge, Mannion," I said. "Keep talking."
I tuned my speaker down low and listened to Mannion as I ran for the
lift.
"They tell us to watch for a little display of Mancji power. They ran
out some kind of antenna. I'm getting a loud static at the top of my
short wave receptivity."
I ran the lift up and as I stepped onto the bridge I said, "Clay, stand
by to fire."
As soon as the pick-up crew was reported in, I keyed course corrections
to curve us off sharply from the alien. I didn't know what he had, but I
liked the idea of putting space between us. My P-Missiles were still
armed and locked.
Mannion called, "Captain, they say our fright is amusing, and quite
justified."
I watched the televideo screen for the first sign of an attack. Suddenly
the entire screen went white, then blanked. Miller, who had been at the
scanner searching over the alien ship at close range, reeled out of his
seat, clutching at his eyes. "My God, I'm blinded," he shouted.
Mannion called, "Captain, my receivers blew. I think every tube in the
shack exploded!"
I jumped to the direct viewer. The alien hung there, turning away from
us in a leisurely curve. There was no sign of whatever had blown us off
the air. I held my key, but didn't press it. I told Clay to take Miller
down to Medic. He was moaning and in severe pain.
Kramer reported in from the cargo deck. The cannister was inside now,
coating up with frost. I told him to wait, then sent Chilcote, my
demolition man, in to open it. Maybe it was booby-trapped. I stood by at
the DVP and waited for other signs of Mancjo power to hit us. The
general feeling was tense.
Apparently they were satisfied with one blast of whatever it was; they
were dwindling away with no further signs of life.
After half an hour of tense alertness, I ordered the missiles disarmed.
I keyed for General. "Men, this is the Captain," I said. "It looks as
though our first contact with an alien race has been successfully
completed. He is now at a distance of three hundred and moving off fast.
Our screens are blown, but there's no real damage. And we have a supply
of fresh food aboard; now let's get back to business. That colony can't
be far off."
That may have been rushing it some, but if the food supply we'd gotten
was a dud, we were finished anyway.
We watched the direct-view screen till the ship was lost; then followed
on radar.
"It's moving right along, Captain," Joyce said, "accelerating at about
two gee's."
"Good riddance," Clay said. "I don't like dealing with armed maniacs."
"They were screwballs all right," I said, "but they couldn't have
happened along at a better time. I only wish we had been in a position
to squeeze a few answers out of them."
"Yes, sir," Clay said. "Now that the whole thing's over, I'm beginning
to think of a lot of questions myself."
The annunciator hummed. I heard what sounded like hoarse breathing. I
glanced at the indicator light. It was the cargo deck mike that was
open.