"Let's see."
"It's not too good."
"Same idea?"
Walt went to get his experiment. He returned with a tray full of
laboratory glassware, all wired into a maze of electronic equipment.
Channing went white. "You, too?" he yelled.
"Take it easy, sport. This charges only to a hundred volts. We get
thirteen hundred microfarads at one hundred volts. Then we drain off
the dielectric fluid, and get one billion three hundred million volts'
charge into a condenser of only one hundred micro-microfarads. It's
an idea for the nuclear physics boys. I think it may tend to solidify
some of the uncontrollables in the present system of developing high
electron velocities."
"That thirteen million dielectric constant stuff is strictly
electrodynamic, I think," said Channing. "Farrell may have developed
it as a by-product, but I have a hunch that it will replace some
heretofore valuable equipment. The Franks-Farrell generator will out-do
Van Der Graf's little job, I think."
"Franks-Farrell?"
"Sure. He thunk up the dielectric. You thunk up the application. He
won't care, and you couldn't have done it without. Follow?"
"Oh, sure. I was just trying to figure out a more generic term for it."
"Don't. Let it go as it is for now. It's slick, Walt, but there's no
weapon in it."
"You're looking for a weapon?"
"Uh-huh. Ever since Murdoch took a swing at Venus Equilateral, I've
been sort of wishing that we could concoct something big enough and
dangerous enough to keep us free from any other wiseacres. Remember,
we stand out there like a sore thumb. We are as vulnerable as a
half pound of butter at a banquet for starving Armenians. The next
screwball that wants to control the system will have to control Venus
Equilateral first. And the best things we can concoct to date include
projectile-tossing guns at velocities less than the speed of our ships,
and an electron-shooter that can be overcome by coating the ship with
any of the metal-salts that enhance secondary transmission."
"Remind me to requisition a set of full-sized tubes when we return.
Might as well have some fun."
"O.K., you can have 'em. Which brings us back to the present.
Question: Was that an abortive attempt upon our ship, or was that a
mistaken try at melting a meteor?"
"I know how to find out. Let's call Chuck Thomas and have him get on
the rails. We can have him request Terran Electric to give us any
information they may have on energy beams to date."
"They'd tell you?" scorned Arden.
"If they write _no!_ and we find out that they did, we'll sue 'em dead.
They're too shaky to try anything deep right now."
"Going to make it an official request, hey?"
"Right. From the station, it'll go out in print, and their answer will
be on the 'type, too, since business etiquette requires it. They'll get
the implication if they're on the losing end. That'll make them try
something slick. If they're honest, they'll tell all."
"That'll do it all right," said Walt. "They're too shaky to buck us
any more. And if they are trying anything, it'll show."
* * * * *
The rest of the trip was without incident. They put in at Canalopsis
and found Keg Johnson with an official 'gram waiting for them. Don
Channing ripped it open and read: