"Reuter is an eminent scientist--which is more than you'll ever be,
Mister Mate. You have your work to attend to, and if you do it you'll
have no time for doing mine or Professor Reuter's. Now detail an
engine-room party to pump fuel for the return trip. Allow ten per cent
margin for safety.... What are you staring at me like that for? Do you
realize you are impudent! Allow ten per cent. Then report to me how
much is left for exploration. Next watch, have the mechanics begin
work on the digging lock. By the way--may I have my rocket pistol back?"
Adam remembered that he had handed the pistol to Jake Burchall and had
seen it disappear in his capacious pocket. At another time he might
have said as much; but in his new-born suspicion of the Captain he
merely replied:
"Sorry, sir! Must have dropped it in that fight with the giant amoeba--"
He stopped. For just an instant there had flashed across Walter
McCausland's face an expression of fierce, snarling hatred. Then a
smooth mask seemed to be drawn across it, and the Captain's voice was
serene. "Of course. If it turns up, return it to me. That's all."
* * * * *
"But Adam! That's absurd. What possible reason could he have for
wishing to make the expedition fail?"
Paulette looked anxiously from Jake Burchall's face to Adam's and back
as the three sat in the girl's cabin.
"I know," said Adam. "I don't understand myself, Paulette. Why, he's
been a hero of mine ever since I was big enough to know what a space
ship looked like! But--"
Jake's wrinkled visage contracted in a frown. "I don't know much about
the rest, Miss, but I do know I could have navigated through that
planetoid belt myself, and I'm only an engineer. But he certainly used
up an awful lot of fuel jumping over it."
"Yes," Adam broke in excitedly, "and he knew there was fluorine in
the atmosphere here, but he landed right into it without making any
preparation to shutter the ports, though he knew very well fluorine
eats into glass like water into sugar. Then he wants to turn back.
Then he gives us an impossibly short time to shutter the ports and
tries to call in the men and leave before they get it finished. I won't
mention--"
The girl burst in on him. "Adam, you're frightfully unfair. There's a
perfectly sensible explanation of everything you've mentioned." She
held out one hand. "Really, you saved my life down there and I don't
want you to think I'm ungrateful, but you're letting things get you.
You mustn't think you're running the whole expedition."
Adam's face flushed. He swallowed twice as though about to speak, but
before he could say anything, Jake Burchall slowly produced from his
pocket the rocket-pistol and laid it on the table before the three.
"Look here, Miss," he said. "I don't want to say nothin', but when I
got into my own bunk, I took one of the shells out of this thing. The
others are in the magazine. Now I want you to look at this."
He snapped back the catch at the side of the pistol, and two
atomic-power shells dropped out--the most powerful and terrible weapons
yet invented by the scientists of three planets, ugly little things
in their gleaming metal cases. Jake picked up one of them and handed
it to Paulette, indicating a spot on the side of the shell with his
finger-tip. The girl bent and gazed; there was a tiny pin-prick, a
puncture entering the side of the shell.
"Do you see that little hole there?" said Jake. "Do you know what would
happen when the trigger was pulled with that shell in the gun? Instead
of firing the bullet toward the giant amoeba that hole means the whole
force of the charge would have gone off in the gun itself. And that's
the gun Captain McCausland gave Adam.... I'm sorry, Miss, I didn't mean
to--hurt your feelings."
Paulette had collapsed suddenly across the table, her shoulders shaking
with sobs, her face buried in her hands. "Go away, please go away," she
cried, as Adam touched her shoulder.
* * * * *
_"Hello, Earth! This is Paulette deVries reporting progress aboard the_
Goddard _by recording for later broadcast. The first dig ended in a
failure this morning. Fifty feet down, and Dr. Perkins reports the
composition of the rock strata remarkably uniform in character, but no
sign of beryllium in them, nor any formation that looks as though it
might contain beryllium. We're on our way from the North Pole of Pluto
to the South Pole, where Professor Reuter thinks we stand the best
chance of finding the metal we need. Just reached the half way mark....
Hello, the motors have stopped! I'll find out what the reason is for
you in just a minute. What's going on, Rossiter?... Hello, Earth! Our
motors have stopped, the fuel in the special tank we had set aside far
exploration purposes is exhausted. We seem to be somewhere near the
equator of Pluto.... No, the fuel didn't run out, they've found a leak,
a leak in the fuel tank. It's all right, folks, we've set aside enough
fuel to ride home to Earth on, but we'll have to dig here instead of at
the South Pole. I'm going to ask--"_
"Isn't it a curious coincidence, Mister Mate, that this leak should
bring us down over the equator--just where you wanted to dig all
along?" Captain McCausland's voice was biting.
"Yes, sir."
"Curious coincidence, too, wasn't it, that when those shutters were
being put on the workmen's radiophones went out of order? Listen here,
Mr. Mate, there have been too damned many coincidences around here
to suit me. A few more and you're going to find yourself working in
the engine room. That's all. Get out of here and get the digging lock
rigged."
Adam saluted mechanically and left the cabin. He knew with sickening
precision what the captain meant. Demotion to the engine room would
mark him forever in the space service as an inefficient mate. He could
never hope to obtain a command of his own, and throughout the rest of
his life, wherever he went the record of it would follow him. Even
now, the unfavorable report McCausland was sure to turn in when they
returned to Earth would block his way to any higher command, any other
rating. He felt sick at heart as he joined the group at the main lock,
helmet in hand, as they were about to launch themselves into the green
ocean below--six men, armed with the bomb-spears Jake Burchall had
provided.
He was surprised to note that Paulette deVries was standing waiting
with the others, helmet in hand and her face deathly pale.
"Paulette," he begged, "do you really think you should go? Remember
what happened last time. Does McCausland--"
"He knows I'm going."
"All right. But keep with the men please. For my peace of mind if not
for your own sake. All ready? Close lock!"
The green waters rose about them in the lock and they swung off.
Adam's voice came clearly through the earphones of the party.
"Be careful everyone! This is a regular jungle of those chain-weeds."
Paulette's voice answered. "Look, Adam! Where I'm pointing. There's
something different over there, little round things, dark red, with a
few yellow ones."
"I see them, Paulette. I don't think.... Jake, I don't like this. Let's
test that bottom and get back as soon as we can."
The men stooped and scraped in the silt with their metal tools,
reporting results. "Not over six inches to rock here." "Eight inches
here." "Just about as shallow here as before."
"Take a few samples, then. Make it as quick as you can. As soon as you
get your samples move back, be ready to ascend to the main lock."
* * * * *
Adam could see nothing but the cloudy liquid around him, stirred to
green milk as the sampling of the silt raised a murk around him.
"Paulette," he called, "what's your compass reading?"
"Nineteen-O-thirty south. Sixty-three--seven, west."
"I can't see you. Move due east two long steps and stand still. I'll
reach for you."
She complied and called out to him.
"What's your reading now?" he asked, and she thought his voice sounded
strange as she replied, "Same south reading. Sixty-three--six, west."
"Jake! Where are you and what's your reading?"
"I'm right here, Mr. Adam. Can't see you? This silt doesn't seem
to settle down. There's a current of some kind carrying it; I can
just stand against it. My reading's eighteen-forty--forty-two south;
sixty-two--fifteen west."
"Bjornsen, Rossiter! Report and extend hands. If you don't touch
anyone, reach out with the safe ends of your bomb-spears and swing them
in a circle till you do.... Ah, who's that who just touched me?"
"Rossiter, sir."
"That makes three of--"
The words were suddenly cut off by the shock of an explosion that
nearly tore them from their feet and a heavier cloud of the milky
silt came eddying past, fragments of chain-weed moving through it.
Burchall's voice came through the earphones. "Attacked! New kind of
animal! Eighteen-forty--twenty-one south. Twenty--thirty-two west!"
"Never mind the bearings!" cried Adam. "Rossiter, Paulette! Hang on
to the ends of these spears, and take three steps with me, don't lose
contact!"
The three leaped as one, then again and again, through the murk in
which everything was invisible. As they touched bottom at the end of
the last leap, Adam saw a long writhing arm, with a barbed tip at the
end of it, swing past his helmet view-ports, caught a gasp from Jake
through his earphones, and then felt Paulette at his side pull free
from his gripping hand and reach up with the bomb-spear.
There was the shock of another explosion. Down he went, and saw
something murky with whirling arms fly past the view-ports. Then
Paulette's voice came through, clear and triumphant.
"I got rid of it, Adam, and here's Jake. He's all right, I guess."
"Everyone attention," said Adam, picking himself up. "Make toward the
direction where that explosion came from. Then join hands and get back
into the ship, quick!"
A few moments later, when the space suits had been put away, and the
men were dispersing along the corridors to their cabins, Paulette
touched Adam's arm.
"What was the idea of keeping asking for those compass bearings?" she
said. "We found the main lock all right, didn't we?"
"Yes," replied Adam shortly, "thanks to your compass. And thanks to
you, too, Jake's life was saved. But didn't you hear the reports from
those others? Every one of those compasses was wrong, sometimes wrong
by a whole degree, and every one was different."
"I don't understand," replied the girl. "Didn't you have the compasses
checked before you started?"
"That's just the point. I did have them checked and adjusted. And
Professor Reuter was the man who adjusted them. If you hadn't been with
us--"
* * * * *
"_Hello, Earth! This is Paulette de Vries, speaking to you from Pluto.
In about an hour or more we'll be through, one way or another. The
digging has gone down to a depth of fifty feet, sheathed in its steel
casing, and there's no sign of beryllium yet. We haven't enough fuel
to try another dig. I've just been down in the well the men have sunk,
looking it over. They're working at the bottom with the new atomic
power diggers, that compress the material taken out of the well into
a fused, rocklike substance with which the walls of the well itself
are lined as they go down, making it safer the deeper they get. One
strange thing about the digging so far is that the temperature has
advanced sharply as we go down. The ocean from which we're working is
two hundred below zero as you know. Down there they struck rock colder
than any ice on Earth at the start and had to work in warm air supplied
from the ship. Now the temperature has gone up at least a hundred
degrees, and it's rising faster with every foot. Just a minute. People
are hurrying past me, there's been some kind of an accident at the dig.
I'll have the details for you...._"
The girl snapped off her key and hurried down the corridor to the open
lock. Above her the loudspeaker system was booming: "All watches.
Summon all watches. Second Mate Wayland report to Captain McCausland.
Diggers have broken through into a cavern. Seven men have fallen. All
watches."
Two or three men were standing at the edge of the air-lock, gazing down
the spiral staircase that wound its way into the digging.
"Who's down there?" asked Paulette.
The man saluted. "First Mate Longworth," he replied. "Six men with him.
We're trying communication by radio, but haven't got in touch with him
yet."
An icy hand gripped tightly at Paulette's heart.
"Adam!" she cried and was surprised to discover there were tears in her
eyes, as a touch fell on her shoulder, and she looked around to see the
face of Captain Walter McCausland.
"What's the matter, my dear?" he asked.
"Your dear!" she half shrieked. "I'm not your dear, and I wouldn't
marry you if you were the last man on Earth! You did this!"
The captain's mouth curled in a sneer. "So that's it, is it? He's
persuaded you he can run you as well as the expedition. Well, I hope he
can run things down where he is as well as he can everything else." He
turned on his heel and walked away without another word.
* * * * *
It seemed useless to go any deeper, but Adam, driving the digging
machines hard at the bottom of the excavation, was determined not to
give up till he was called back. There would be no more excavations;
there was no more fuel to take the _Goddard_ to another spot. The
lights, led down from the ship, flared about them, the tongues of the
atomic power rasps worked against the rocks with an annoying, grating
sound, discharging their take of powdered rock into the machine that
fused it, and worked slowly around the circular wall of the excavation
behind them, plastering it with white-hot material that cooled rapidly
into the smooth, stony cylinder that towered far above to join with the
ship.
Suddenly, one of the diggers took on a new, high-pitched note. Adam
turned; and as he turned felt himself slipping, clutched at something,
and the next minute was sliding down, down, a long slant it seemed into
total darkness. A weight gripped him around the chest; he rolled over,
but his hands caught only loose stones, and when the slide came to a
stop as abrupt as its beginning, he found himself lying on his back,
the weight across his legs, looking up, far up toward where a speck of
light from the ship seemed miles away.
He reached out one hand and touched something as smooth as though it
were polished and gently warm. "Mr. Adam!" said a voice suddenly, and
he recognized it as Jake's. "Are you all right, Mr. Adam?"
"I think so, but my legs are caught."
"I'll get you free in a minute. Anybody else?"
"I got hit in the belly," came a voice. "Where's Flack?"
The engineer was lifting something. "Can you get out there now, Mr.
Adam? We'll be all right in a minute." Adam gave a heave, felt his
entangled legs slide free and pulled himself onto a pile of debris just
as a light glared on like a star from one of the other men.
"Are we all here? Where's Flack?" There was a counting of noses and a
general feeling of bodies for bruises. Above them, where the wall of
the cylinder stopped, they could make out that the sudden break through
had carried them down some twenty feet. "Here he is. Just an arm
sticking out. I'm afraid he's done for. Come here, everyone."
One of the digging machines was brought into play and they labored to
get the prisoned man free, but as they cleared the broken stone and
rubble from around his face, it became evident that the effort was
useless. The eyes were glazed, the head hung limp. Adam stepped back
against the wall of the cave-in around them, and as he did so his
hand touched it. Once more he noticed it was both smooth and warm. He
turned, and in the light of the atomic lamps now blazing across the
top of the cave-in examined it. It was not only smooth and warm, but
polished; and just over his head he could see where the rock stopped
and metal began--a clean-fitted job, a manufactured wall!
"Jake!" he called excitedly, "bring that digging machine over here for
a second. The one with the cutting head."
The little engineer turned, and bounded over in a couple of steps,
digging machine in hand. "Why, that's a metal wall," he cried, and
applied the head for a moment in a brief surge of power. The bit cut
out an inch-deep circle of metal, dropping it on some of the rubble
with a tinny clang. Jake bent to pick it up.
"It's light enough to be beryllium," he said, handing the disc to Adam,
and turning back to the wall, drove his cutter into it with renewed
energy.
"What are you doing?" demanded the mate, hefting the disc of metal.
"This wall sounds hollow. Here goes!" He had driven the machine deep
in, and stepping back, pulled the handle marked "Split." There was a
sudden rending clang; a crash and a six-foot section of the wall fell
inwards. The two men stared into the hole it had left, heedless of the
fact that the other members of the excavating crew were crowding up
behind them.
They were looking into a low square room, perhaps twenty feet across.
At the far side was a doorway, and in the doorway stood a man!
To be sure he was such a man as none of them had ever before seen. He
was not over four and a half feet tall, yet with arms as long as an
earthling's hanging down below his knees, tremendously broad shoulders,
and a head that seemed permanently pushed forward and downward above
them. Below that head the creature was wrapped from neck to toe in some
shimmering blue material with a metallic luster, banded around the arms
and legs with red metal.
As they gazed in astonishment, the man took two steps forward, his
head bobbing on his neck at each step, opened his lips, and uttered
"Wahwahroo!" in a voice thick with gutturals.
* * * * *
Adam glanced around at his own men, then once more at the Plutonian
dwarf, whose face, as far as he could judge, bore an expression of
intense interest rather than of fear or anger. The remark, he judged,
would be a greeting.
"Wahwahroo!" he replied amiably, but the Plutonian continued to stare
in a manner that indicated Adam's first lesson in this unknown tongue
was far from a success.
"Stand by," he remarked to the crew. "I'm going in and try to talk to
this bird. May be trouble." Catching the sides of the split in the
wall, he jumped down in a small cascade of pebbles that rang on the
floor below in a manner which assured him this also was metal.
"I don't understand what you're saying, old man," he remarked to the
Plutonian, who had remained standing in the doorway, and touching a
finger to lips and ears to emphasize the point. "I don't understand,
but maybe you'll be able to get it from a picture."
From one of his pockets he produced a piece of paper, and with one of
the new print-pencils that had just been developed, sketched rapidly at
a crude drawing of a rocket-ship with little men issuing from beneath
it into the waves of an ocean.
The Plutonian accepted it from his hand, looked at it with a puzzled
expression, then returned it, nodding violently, but with an expression
on his face that bespoke complete lack of comprehension.
"Mr. Adam!" It was Jake's voice from the door. "I'm sending the others
back with Flack to get some weapons."
"All right. Just stay there to keep up communication, Jake," Adam
called back. "I'm trying to get over the idea to this guy that we're
civilized."
He stepped over to the wall of the room and with his print-pencil
tapped on the metal "Ping!" then twice "Ping-Ping" and then three
times, "Ping-Ping-Ping."
The Plutonian watched him attentively, grimaced with thick lips, and
then catching Adam's eye, tapped with his foot, once, then twice, then
three times in quick succession. Adam smiled approval; the Plutonian
reached out, took the drawing again and studied it gravely for a
moment, then pointed at one of the little figures, at Adam, and smiled.
Adam did his best to signify that the Plutonian had grasped the point.
The dwarf held up one hand, palm out toward Adam, then turned to the
door behind him. Adam watched without moving, and a frown spread across
the Plutonian's face.
"I got it, Mr. Adam," called Jake from the rent in the wall, "all the
signals are different here. He holds up his hand to stop you because he
wants you to come along."
It might be. Adam took an experimental step toward the Plutonian, and
saw the latter's face clear. They reached the door together, and Adam
noticed it did not open on hinges, but slid. The Plutonian touched some
kind of lever or contact in the frame, uttered something in his deep
voice, and stood waiting. Beyond the door, Adam noticed, was another
room, perfectly dark, but as the Plutonian stopped speaking, there was
a rustle of feet within and a file of half a dozen dwarfs emerged, each
an exact duplicate of the first as nearly as Adam could judge. They
formed a circle, staring at Adam and at the torn wall with Jake gazing
through. Each in turn stepped forward, examined Adam from head to
foot and having emitted a few expressive grunts took his place in the
circle again. All seemed friendly, but after the last one had looked
over Adam, one of the Plutonians produced some kind of weapon with a
hammer-like head and a handle set cross-wise, and waved the earth-man
back toward the tear in the wall.
Adam looked around at Jake, saw that he had one of the digging machines
in his hand, and decided that retreat toward this protection was the
best policy. But it was not the Plutonian's intention to dismiss him,
evidently. One of them, whose metallic armbands were more numerous than
the rest, stepped forward, reached for Adam's print-pencil, and when
Adam added to it his piece of paper, was busy for a moment.
* * * * *
On the paper, when he handed it to the earth-man, were seven groups
of dots, one in the first, two in the second, three in the third,
regularly up to seven dots in the seventh group.
The dwarf pointed to himself, then to the single dot; and followed by
indicating each of the other six Plutonians, in turn with one of the
lines of dots.
When this effort at communication had been executed, he pointed to the
single dot again, then to Adam, and finally to the wall.
"What does he want?" asked Jake. "What's he trying to get at?"
"I think I know," replied Adam. "See these numbers of dots? He's trying
to tell me he's the number one man here, and he wants to talk to our
number one man."
He turned to the Plutonian, saluting, and laughed to see the dwarf
returning him a carbon copy of the movement.
"I'll stay here," he said to Jake. "As soon as they get that emergency
ladder in position report to Captain McCausland and ask him whether he
can come down. You might take along those metal samples you routed out.
Ask Dr. Perkins to test them for beryllium. They're light and strong
enough to be the stuff."
* * * * *
"General staff assembly in the mess room! Time one-two-four-five.
General staff assembly in the mess room! Time, one-two-four-five.
General--"
The ship's loudspeakers were carrying the message all through the big
hull, and even down into the base of the tunnel where the spiral stair
of alloy had now been carried to the spot of the cave-in, and Second
Mate Wayland was superintending the job of fusing some of the debris
into place to strengthen and lengthen the cylinder.
Coming down the corridor toward the mess room, Adam almost ran into
Paulette. She took his hand impulsively. "I'm so glad for you, Adam,"
she said. "You wanted this expedition to succeed so much, and you've
worked so hard on it."
He smiled wryly. "Lot of good it'll do me now. The captain's going to
turn in an unfavorable report and he's even now threatening to demote
me to the engine room."
The girl's eyes flashed. "Never mind. You forget that I'm the power
of the press. When Paulette de Vries, the radio gal, lets go, Captain
Walter McCausland is going to be good and sorry for some of the things
he's done."
Adam stopped and stared at her in amazement. "Why, I thought you were
going to marry him!"
"Him! I wouldn't marry him if he were the last man on--on Pluto." She
gave a laugh that was half a sob.
"Then--then, there's a chance--"
"Sssh. Here we are."
The scientific staff, Dr. Perkins, Professor Reuter, three assistants,
the medical staff and a geographer, were at the front of the room, with
the second and third mates, and the other officers of the expedition,
Captain McCausland in their midst. As Adam and Paulette, the last to
enter, came in, McCausland glanced at them sharply under lowered brows.
Adam realized suddenly that he was holding the girl's hand and dropped
it; someone laughed, and McCausland's hard, thin face was etched in a
sneer.
"Miss de Vries," he said. "I called the entire staff together to listen
to this report on the sample of metal brought from below, because it is
very important. Would you be good enough to open your key and make a
record of this report?"
The girl obediently snapped the switch on the device that hung at her
chest, and spoke briefly into it. "Hello, Earth! Paulette speaking.
We are about to hear the report on the metal found in the digging on
Pluto. Dr. Perkins, our chemist, will speak first...."
Perkins' report was brief. "I have made spectroscopic tests on the
metal brought from the digging, and which is used by the inhabitants of
the interior of Pluto. It registers as certainly beryllium."
* * * * *
Paulette was about to speak again, when McCausland held up his hand.
"I would like to hear from Professor Reuter," he said. "He conducted
the chemical and physical analyses of the metal after Dr. Perkins had
finished his spectroscopic tests."
Professor Reuter's oily voice boomed out. "I regret to say that
although this metal responds to the spectroscopic tests for beryllium,
it will not do for our purpose. It is, in fact, an isotope of
beryllium, a metal which resembles it spectroscopically but not
physically. The weight is wrong; the metal is much too heavy and will
not do for making armor for space ships."
"But--but--" babbled Adam. "I didn't weigh it, of course, but it seemed
very light to me."
"And to me also," remarked Dr. Perkins. There was a frown of puzzlement
if not of suspicion between his brows.
"Miss de Vries, you will not make a record of this useless argument,"
snapped McCausland. "Professor Reuter will explain--"
"I will explain that the sample in its original form was full of air
particles, like a fine sponge," remarked the professor easily, but
with his mouth working. "The Plutonians evidently have some process of
lightening in this fashion."
"Isn't there any way of treating it?"
McCausland turned to Dr. Perkins. "Will you explain to our young but
over-enthusiastic friend about that?"
Dr. Perkins shook his head. The frown still persisted. "Not if it's a
true isotope. That would be the same thing as transmuting elements. But
I still confess I do not entirely understand."
McCausland took up the word swiftly. "Meanwhile, since it is certain
that the metal used by these Plutonians will not do for our purpose, I
think it important that we at least look into the composition of their
civilization to some extent," he remarked. "I propose to investigate
them with Professor Reuter's co-operation. Mister Longworth, you will
take charge of the ship guard."
Paulette spoke up suddenly. "Captain McCausland, I think it is
important that I go with you on making this contact with the
Plutonians. Certainly everyone on the three planets will want to know
about them."
The captain's mouth writhed a moment, and Adam noticed the glance he
shot at Professor Reuter, but his voice was smooth. "To be sure, Miss
de Vries. I think, then, this is all that comes before the present
meeting. Dismiss."
* * * * *
The space in front of the metal wall that shut off the Plutonian
domain had been cleared. As Paulette, accompanied by Professor Reuter,
McCausland, and Bjornsen of the engine-room staff, reached the bottom
of the dig and stepped over to it, they noted that although the wall
still showed part of the jagged break, a door had been fitted to fill
most of the gap.
The four stepped over to it, and McCausland tapped at the door.
There was no answer at first, then from the other side there came an
answering tapping--one tap, then two, then three, as though for a
signal. McCausland answered in the same fashion, and after a moment
the door slid back, revealing one of the strange ape men of Pluto. He
saluted in a strange copy of the movement Adam had made at the time
of their first contact, and McCausland, returning the salute, stepped
through the door, and producing a piece of paper from his pocket began
to make sketches, while the dwarf watched with interest, his face
working rapidly to indicate comprehension.
After a moment the captain beckoned to Reuter and both stepped down
into the Plutonian room, leaving Paulette and Bjornsen on the heap of
rubble at the base of the digging. The girl looked round, then in a low
voice, said to the engineer:
"Will you do me a favor?"
"Sure. What is it?"
"I'd like a souvenir. See where that part of the wall is torn? Could
you break me off a little sliver of that metal to take back with me?"
"Simple." The giant mechanic stepped over to the wall and twisted at
a rag of metal. It tore loose with a little ping! The other two were
absorbed in their pencil-and-paper conversation with the Plutonian and
did not appear to notice as Paulette slipped the fragment into the
pocket of her skirt.
Bjornsen's eye looked along the crack and the fitting of the door,
and he was shaking his head, clucking despondently. "These people,"
he said. "They are bad mechanics. Look at that joint. I'll fix it for
them."
He bent and picked up one of the atomic power drills that had been
left at the foot of the dig, and applying it to the wall, turned on
the power. As he did so, there was a commotion; a dozen or more of
the Plutonians, all dressed in the same wrappings, but with varying
numbers of metal bands, came pouring through the back door of the room.
McCausland turned fiercely. "Drop that!" he shouted. "Do you want to
bring them all down on us?"
"I was just repairing this break for them," replied the engineer.
"Don't touch anything that doesn't belong to you," replied the captain,
and turning, began to draw rapidly on his paper.
* * * * *
The crowding Plutonians, gabbling in their guttural language, were
examining the work that Bjornsen had done, gazing at him admiringly and
then at the power drill he had used. Three or four of them attached
themselves to him, while another picked up the machine, and pulled him
along as though to lead him through the rear door of the room, while
their chief made a rapid drawing for McCausland.
"They want you to go with them and work for them," explained Reuter,
peering over the Plutonian's shoulder as he sketched. "Just disengage
their hands, gently, Bjornsen. We'll explain."
"Yes," said McCausland, "and go back up to the ship. You and Miss de
Vries both. I don't care how important this is for purposes of record.
That's an order. Go!"
Adam was on duty at the head of the spiral stair when they arrived.
"Did you get it?" he asked.
Paulette put a finger on her lips and glanced at Bjornsen, then as
though referring to some previous arrangement, said easily, "Do you
suppose Dr. Perkins will explain the matter now?"
"I think so," he replied, catching on quickly. "I'll leave Burchall in
charge of the watch and we can go up and see him at all events."
A few moments later they had reached the top of the ship where the
scientific laboratories were located in a series of outer compartments.
Dr. Perkins looked up from his desk as the pair entered.
"Hello, Miss de Vries," he said. "Glad to see you, Longworth. What's on
your mind?"