"What?"
"I said, 'As soon as I swallow my coffee!'" repeated the Second Mate
aggrievedly. "Can't you understand English? Let's go."
Lemming intercepted them as they passed his end of the table. He
asked, "Lieutenant, I've been wanting to ask for several days--might
I be permitted to visit the bridge? This is my first spaceflight, you
know. I've always wanted to see how the controls are operated."
"Speak to Captain Algase," suggested Dan. "That's not within my
power--Yes, Billy?"
The mess-boy had just raced in from the outer deck, trayless, almost
breathless. "Y're wanted on the bridge immejitely, Lootenant! Cap'n
orders!" His eyes were as big as saucers. "Sparks just got a message
through. A message from New Fresno!"
Dan had just time to notice, out of the corner of one eye, how this
bald pronouncement affected the passengers. He saw the concerted motion
that dragged them all to their feet as if they were puppets on a single
string; saw the sudden gleam in Wilmot's eye, the worried frown that
creased Bonetti's forehead, heard the swift, startled gasp from Lady
Alice and intercepted Captain Smith's darting glances from one to
another of the listeners. Lemming's voice quavered, "A--a message from
New Fresno!" and Susan Wilmot laughed, a short, strident, triumphant
burst of sound.
Then Dan Mallory saw no more. For with Chandler at his heels, he was
pounding through the corridors to the Jacob's ladder that fed the
control turret.
* * * * *
Captain Algase was no beauty even when garbed in his officer's blues;
in pajamas and slippers he was something out of a nightmare. His bare
legs were like cylindrical hair mattresses, his pajama slacks bulged at
the equator as if he were concealing there a half watermelon. His eyes
were red and gummy, his temper like something that could be poured out
of a cruet. As Dan and Bud entered the control turret he was battering
the bewildered radioman's defenses into oblivion with a salvo of verbal
thermite.
"Message!" he was howling. "You call this thing a message! I'll have
you stewed in slow gravy for waking me up like this, Sparks! Of all the
damn, dumb--" He saw his two lieutenants. "Never mind, you two. Go back
and finish your breakfast. False alarm."
"We've finished, Skipper," said Dan. "What's all the commotion?"
"This _&![oe])$$[oe]09_!--" began Algase.
Sparks said miserably, "But it was Marlowe's hand on the keys, Cap'n! I
swear it was. I know the message don't make sense, but you can't fool
a bug-pounder. Every radioman has a distinctive sending style. Ask
anybody. Even one of them wise-cracking Donovan boys. They'll tell you.
And this was Marlowe's hand--"
"Let's see," said Mallory. He took the flimsy from his senior's
fingers, frowned as he ran an eye over the cryptic symbols. "Numerals!
All numerals. Sparks--?"
"It was like this. The static interference is still going on. The audio
wouldn't bring in voice at all. But as I was twisting the dials, I got
this power wave from Lunar III, Joe Marlowe's station. It had a--a sort
of cadence. I began putting down the things it sounded like, and--and
that's what come out."
Chandler, peering over his comrade's shoulder, said,
"Well, hell's bells, are you all nuts? It must be a code of some sort.
Sparks, we use several numerical codes, don't we?"
"Yes." Meekly. "But that ain't one of them, Lieutenant. That don't fit
no code in the reg book."
Mallory continued to stare at the message. It was long, and undeniably
confusing. It read:
83.7-152-232.12-167.64-31.02-16-184-167.64-9.02-1-126.92-144.27-
186.31-50.95-16-175-47.9-16-14.008-4.002-39.944-50.95-173.04-19-
16-10.25-69.87-14.008-16-184-232.12-186.31-39.944-127.61-14.008-
20.183-184-19-186.31-118.70-16-1-74.91-127.61-14.008-74.91-28.06-
32.06-181.4-14.008-140.13-138-92-20.183-184-39.944-222.-32.06-
138.92-162.46-26.97-126.92-140.13-40.08-10.82-26.97-32.06-31.02-
88.92-14.008-16-184-16-14.008-6.94-79.916-39.944-40.08-195.23-
39.944-114.76-150.43-126.92-232.12-114.76-127.61-14.008-32.06-
126.92-19-88.92-140.92-16-127.61-12-47.9-16-14.008-16-19-20.183-
184-78.96-52.01-16.721-225.97-88.92--
"--and there it began all over again," said Sparks. "The same sequence.
I agree, it's a code. But what good is a code when we ain't got
the key to it. It ain't a simple word substitution cryptogram or a
five-by-five. I studied them in the Academy, and tried them all before
I brought this to the Captain. In other words, it ain't no good to us
unless we've got the clue--and we ain't got the clue!"
* * * * *