He displayed the book's center-spread, a beautiful skyscape from
the plundered planet's surface. The stars and constellations seemed
unfamiliar at first, but as Rabin remarked their luminosities and
relative positions Norris exclaimed, "Of course--_Sirius_!"
Winthrop's troubled mind soared. Sirius! Over two and a half parsecs,
eight and a half light years from the Solar System. Small wonder the
crew was in a big sleep!
Knowledge of the ship's apparent point of origin kindled a deeper
fire--the necessity to find out what they could _while_ they could.
Even if the ship's occupants proved friendly they just might be firmly
reticent.
The computers came, and an intense Benton Allan and his associates--a
young man who immediately buried his thin, bespectacled nose in the
math, and bent his thin frame to the instruments.
The ship swarmed with technicians. Engineers examined the gyros
and swore without hesitation that they could be duplicated. Others
studied the electronics computer tied into the bulkhead instrument
and its related schematics, or huddled excitedly with astronomers and
spatiologists.
One by one they tied the schematics and drawings to the instruments
and equipment, at length realizing that nothing in the volume related
to the ship forward of the bulkhead.
They'd been talking it over.
"If you were in a spaceship," Winthrop said, "you'd certainly keep on
hand the mechanics of what keeps your living quarters livable. There'll
be another book up forward."
They left it at that.
Winthrop realized that with men here to whom math was sustenance, the
sought-after answers might well be attained more quickly if he did
not try to help further. As he went out, his gaze swept Rabin. The
man's face was still drawn and pale in silent, fascinated study of the
picture book.
The ship again. In the bright sunlight Winthrop asked questions while
study of the stern went on apace. The bow retained its mystery. The
many electronic listening devices attached forward had not recorded one
decibel of sound.
In his mind the thought raced again: _Was there something lurking
in the bow--something the little girl and Rabin had sensed--some
unspeakable horror from the stars?_
He sought the general.
"Bert, what about the bulkhead door?" he asked. "Are we going to open
it?"
"Not immediately," General Hill replied. "The occupants will, if alive,
probably come out in their own way and time. If we try to break in
prematurely we may bring on their deaths."
His face grew somber. "It's a problem. The ship drifted down as if
with a dead man's hand at the helm. It didn't come at that speed from
origin. Someone or something cut its speed when it hit our atmosphere.
Had it come in fast the hull would have heated, and the occupants would
have been roasted alive.
"Let's not force the issue. If alive they'll come out eventually.
Meanwhile we're learning."
_But can we wait?_ Winthrop thought. _Are we sensible in waiting?_