Music on Ganymede
The spot where the space-ship made its compulsory landing was like
a small park. It was divided into geometrically fashioned beds
of fantastic, crawling vines, vivid with huge, gaudy flowers and
purple-hued, spongy foliage. Surrounding the open space were a number
of flat, cylindrical objects which resembled the pieces on an enormous
checker-board. Swinging open, like the lids of gigantic waffle-irons,
these cylinders belched forth a host of preposterous creatures.
Comparable in size to walruses, their orange-hued bodies were shaped
like gigantic slugs or shell-less snails. Their movements, however,
were anything but snail-like. With incredible swiftness they flowed
toward the space-ship from all directions. As if arrested by a sharp
command, they all stopped before they reached the Goddard, ringing it
at a respectable distance with an oval wall of pulsating bodies.
After a tense period of seeming indecision, one of their number
separated from the others and oozed boldly across the intervening space.
Through the crystal-clear window, Captain Verger could plainly
distinguish the creature's face, which, fantastic as it was, weirdly
suggested a superior degree of intelligence, such as only human beings
can claim. Ears and nostrils it undoubtedly possessed, the former being
spirally coiled, like cinnamon rolls, and the latter resembling the
muzzle of a double-barreled shotgun. Unusually large was the mouth,
which was armed with three rows of greenish teeth. Of all the grotesque
features, the most peculiar were its organs of vision. Telescopic, like
those of a lobster, its glaring, lidless eyes were mounted on long
stalks so that they could be turned in all directions and focussed by
drawing them in and out.
For a breathless minute, those weird eyes explored the interior of the
space-ship. Then something resembling a three-fingered hand protruded
from the creature's shoulder, stretched out until it became a long arm
and made an unmistakable beckoning gesture. "Come out," it said as
clearly as if it had uttered those very words. Verger answered with a
shake of his head, which, though silent, was emphatically eloquent.
Within the crowded cabin of the space-ship, not a sound was heard. The
girls had tumbled out of their hammocks and were huddled together,
too frightened to speak or even to scream. Like birds fascinated
by a serpent, they gazed fearfully at that fiendish face; and when
it disappeared from the window, they simultaneously turned their
hypnotized eyes on Captain Verger.
It was Helen Green, the red-headed drummer-girl who, assuming the post
of spokeswoman, broke the silence. "Well, Captain," she said in a voice
which she tried hard to keep from trembling, "What do we do now?"
Verger startled them all by shouting, "I'll tell you what to do! Get
into your uniforms! Unpack your horns! Let's have a good, rousing tune
right now!"
For a while they stared at him as if they feared he had lost his mind.
Professor Anderson, who was standing close to Verger whispered, "Do you
really mean that, Captain?"
"Certainly I mean it!" The pilot yelled. "Since you are in charge of
the band, will you please see to it that my orders are carried out?"
"But why the uniforms? I don't--"
"There's no time for argument," Verger interrupted him. "It's extremely
important that the girls dress in their uniforms. Please request them
to do so at once!"
* * * * *
A moment later, when the three men were shut in the control compartment
in order that the girls could use the main cabin as a dressing
room, Verger apologized to Anderson, "Sorry I had to be so blunt,
Professor! You see, it was apparent that all the ladies were in a blue
funk. Things are going to be tough enough for us without a bunch of
hysterical women on our hands. I figured that something had to be done
to distract their minds and there's nothing that absorbs the interest
of a female like dolling up in fancy duds."
"I see," Anderson exclaimed. "So that was the reason why you insisted
on the uniforms."
"Not entirely. I had other reasons. These Callisto babies are smart
people--a lot smarter than we are in most things. But there's one
subject they don't know anything at all about, and that's music!"
"And your idea is to stage a band concert for their benefit?" asked
Anderson.
"Exactly."
"And what do you think will happen then?"
"I don't know. Anything can happen. But, no matter what they do about
it, we can't be any worse off than we are right now. Tell your girls
to toot like they've never tooted before. Let's hope that the Callisto
boys like it. If they do, it may save us."
"What makes you think so?" Anderson asked.
"Because these babies are known to be the most inquisitive beings in
the universe. If I am right about their not knowing anything about
music, your band is sure to arouse their curiosity. They'll want to
find out all about it, and they can't very well do that if they cut the
gizzards out of the musicians. Do you get the idea?"
While Verger and Anderson were talking, LeDoux had kept close watch
through the windows of the control room. Suddenly he exclaimed, "Look
what's coming now!"
A queer-looking machine was slowly approaching the space-ship. It was
like a combination of a steam-shovel and a pile driver. Suspended
by means of a cable from a long boom, a metal ball, which must have
weighed several tons, was swinging back and forth like a colossal
pendulum.
"What do you suppose it is?" Anderson whispered tensely.
"Whatever it is, it looks like bad news!" exclaimed Verger. "My guess
is that they intend to use it to batter a hole in our shell. We've got
to stop them from doing that. If they wrecked the ship we'd never be
able to get away from here."
"What can we do about it?" LeDoux demanded. "You said yourself that no
human weapons have any effect on them."
"There's only one thing to do," Verger replied. "And that is to open
the hatch before that thing-a-ma-gig starts massaging our hull."
Without giving any warning, he flung open the door of the main cabin.
Most of the girls were already dressed in their vivid, purple and green
uniforms. Two of them, who were still partially undressed, uttered
little screams, but Captain Verger paid no attention to them. Striding
to the circular hatch, he quickly unscrewed the ponderous clamps and
slid the door open.
Then he turned and shouted, "Hurry, girls! There isn't a moment to
lose. All of you get your instruments to working and follow me."
"What are we going to play?" someone squealed.
"Play anything--any snappy march will do!"
Anderson came to the rescue with the command, "Play 'The March of the
Rocketeers'."
* * * * *
The girls raised their instruments and were just about to start playing
when Verger shouted, "One moment, please. We've all got to be in
this--the men as well as the women. Otherwise they may get the idea
that the men aren't needed in the band and will start to carve us up.
How about it, Professor? Have you any extra instruments?"
Anderson shook his head.
"Any objects that resemble musical instruments will do. Where's that
gimmick you were working on?"
"You mean my high-frequency sound projector? I'll get it right away,"
Anderson dashed into the stateroom, returning immediately with his
invention.
"O.K. You march along with the girls. Make believe you're playing on
your dohickey. I'll pretend to play on this monkey wrench. LeDoux, you
blow on your ray-gun--but be careful you don't get absent minded and
pull the trigger."
Stepping to the open hatch, Captain Verger yelled, "O.K., girls! Now
play like you've never played before! One! Two! Three! Four! Let's go!"
With the blaring band streaming after him, and with his ridiculous
monkey wrench pressed against his lips, he strode forth to the soil of
the hostile satellite.
It was indeed an astounding spectacle. Arrayed in their vividly colored
uniforms, their hearts thumping with excitement, the musical wives
of the exiled miners played and strutted as if they knew their lives
depended on their skill.
Pretending to pay no attention to the beasts who still formed an
ominous ring around the space-ship, Verger waded through a tangle of
vegetation to what looked like a walk or beaten path. Along this he
marched and the ring of slug-men opened to let the band pass through.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Captain Verger watched the natives, for
he realized that the fate of his band hung on one thing and one thing
only, and that was the reaction of its audience.
At first, the only effect he discerned was one of astonishment.
Obviously the Callistonians were taken completely by surprise. They
didn't know what to do, and so they did nothing except follow this
amazing procession.
Doubling around in a wide circle, Verger led the band back toward
the space-ship. Like children watching a circus parade, the natives
formed a lane, along which the musicians had to pass. It was then that
Captain Verger noticed something that gave him relieved encouragement.
Practically all of the listeners were swaying back and forth, keeping
exact time with the catchy strains of the stirring march. It was
apparent that, even though they were ignorant of music, they certainly
had a sense of rhythm. None of them made any attempts to molest the
human beings as they marched back and reentered the space-ship.