Biggs said suddenly, "Sparks! You didn't give the Skipper a piece of
that pepsin!"
"I didn't get a chance. But how--"
Then I saw. The Skipper and Runt Hake were sitting in the same chair,
murmuring soft words of tenderness at each other, stroking each other's
hair fondly. Just as I looked, the Old Man leaned forward and gave the
pirate a big, juicy kiss on the forehead!
And just then there came a welcome interruption. The audio throbbed to
electric life; a brusque voice rasped, "Calling the _Saturn! Saturn_,
ahoy! S.S.C.B. Cruiser _Iris_ calling. Stand by! We'll come alongside
you in twenty minutes...."
* * * * *
Afterward, when Runt Hake and his pirates, still babbling incoherent
protestations of endearment, had been removed to the patrol ship and
taken back toward the Venusian prison that had long awaited them, we
held a confab in my radio room. Todd was there, and Chief Garrity, and
Lancelot Biggs and myself. Also a very foggy-eyed, befuddled Captain
Hanson who seemed to be having a hard time keeping from saying we were
all "dear, sweet boys"--as he had told us quite a few times in the past
hour or so.
I couldn't make head or tail of it. So I asked Biggs bluntly, "But
what was it, Mr. Biggs? We all know it was something you put in the
food. Something from which the pepsin saved us. But what? Surely no
drug would make a man act like that."
Biggs grinned, his Adam's-apple jerking amiably.
"No, not a drug. But a chemical. Prolactin, to be exact. If you'll
remember, I started to tell you we were carrying a load of it to earth."
"Prolactin?" said Todd. "What's that?"
"An extract of the pituitary gland; the hormone that governs human
affections. Prolactin is the hormone that is responsible for all
acts of parental love. It causes roosters to brood and set on eggs,
tomcats to give milk and milk-deficient females to become normal. It is
commonly known as the 'mother-love' crystal."
"And we," I said, "were carrying a load of it. I still don't
understand, though, why we had to chew the pepsin. And why it failed to
turn all of us into bunny-huggers like--"
I glanced at the Old Man, then glanced away again. He looked at me
fondly.
"Well, you see," explained Biggs, "prolactin happens to be a pure
protein. And pure proteins are insoluble in most things, alcohol,
water, anything you might normally take in your diet.
"I cooked Hake's banquet, and his goose, with liberal sprinklings
of prolactin. But, as you had previously pointed out, I had to find
some way of keeping _our_ men from being affected by the hormone that
disrupted their morale. Pepsin was the answer. Pepsin breaks down pure
proteids into soluble peptones. That is why it is commonly used as a
digestive agent."
"Drwstbynlvy--" mumbled the Skipper soothingly.
"Eh?" I demanded, "What's that?"
Biggs looked embarrassed. "I'm not sure," he said, "but I think
he's saying, 'You're a dear sweet baby and I love you very much!'
Er--Sparks--I think maybe we'd better put him to bed until it wears
off...."
So that was that. And maybe I shouldn't have told you all this; I don't
know. Because the Skipper, recovered now from his spell of "maternal
affection" is rather sensitive on the subject. And I'm still clicking
the bug on the _Saturn_.
Anyhow, now you know. But if you ever tell Cap Hanson I told you, it's
going to be just too bad for me. I may have to catch the next express
for Pluto and points west. Me and Biggs both. There's not much "mother
love" in Cap Hanson's right cross!