spiraling gas streams hurled forth from binaries like Beta Lyrae; they
had driven through the hearts of globular clusters, with giant suns by
the myriad on every hand; but somehow the lonely, majestic grandeur
of this object was more impressive. A star--too distant to show a
perceptible disk--too bright to be gazed at directly, putting to shame
the surrounding celestial objects. Even the moon, sliding out of the
shadow in an apologetic fashion, no longer seemed bright.
Arthur Dennis was the first to speak. "It gets you, doesn't it? I
suppose it's a companion to the sun, or else--"
"Or _else_," said Leo flatly, snatching the spectroscope. The great
star was white, with just a suspicion of topaz in its glow, and Leo
was prone to jump to conclusions. One glance through the instrument,
sweeping it slightly from left to right, was enough. He grinned,
removed the eye lens, and replaced the paper screen of the original
arrangement, and three heads bent once more to look at the streak of
color.
It wasn't a streak this time. A single bright point centered itself
directly behind the objective lens, and to either side of this there
extended a broken series of dashes--the intense emission bands,
bordered on the violet side by relatively sharp dark lines, which
characterize what the early astronomers called a "P Cygni" star. The
continuous background spectrum was too faint to show; the grating was
so coarse that several orders of the spectrum fell on the paper at once.
"And that's your beacon!" remarked Little after a few moments of
silence. "Well, it certainly earns the name."
"You can get our location now?" asked Arthur. "I should think you
wouldn't need to say much but 'Near S Doradus,' from the looks of that
thing."
"Wrong, blast it," answered Leo. "When I said I could judge brightness
to a tenth of a magnitude, I was thinking of decent stars with visual
mags between zero and plus six. For this thing, I don't know whether
it's minus five or minus fifteen--whether the blasted thing is three
quarters of a parsec or eighty parsecs away. I'll get the direction,
though, and maybe I'll find a way to measure the brightness. I'll look
after that; you people worry about what to do with it if I get it. Good
night."
The dismissal was rather pointed, and Leo turned his full attention
to the pad on which he was computing, so Little and Arthur silently
retired. So did all but one of the guards who had been watching,
invisible in the shadow of the superstructure.
* * * * *
Dr. Little opened his eyes with a start and realized it was full
daylight. It had been the first sleep under normal gravity in several
weeks, and his body had made the most of it. The other two sleeping
bags were empty, but the Dennis brothers were both present. They were
by the window, removing a piece of canvas that had apparently been
draped across it. Little sat up.
"What are you fellows up to now?" he asked. "Leo, don't you ever sleep?"
"Sure, when necessary. You have been sleeping for twelve hours, doc.
Did we wake you up?"
"Twelve hours! No, it was probably my conscience. What's the idea of
window curtains? We haven't even a door, so it can't be privacy."
"We were screening out the sunlight Leo didn't want," answered Arthur.
"He was trying to get the sun's spectrum, and just wanted a narrow beam
through the grating."
"Did you get it?"
"Sure." It was Leo speaking again. "And we found a use for the razor.
The edges of the blades are good for making a slit for the beam. This
fellow, of course, didn't have anything in that wonderful testing kit
that would do. By the way, Art, have you still got the kit, or did our
friends take it last night?"
"Someone poked around in it," Arthur answered, "but they left it here.
Maybe they thought there was nothing in it that we could put to use."
"I think they would have left it, anyway," remarked the doctor,
grinning at the expressions of unbelief on the two faces.
Leo walked over to his brother's sleeping bag and took the kit box
from the pack. "You know best, doc. In that case, I'm going to have
a look, and find out if there's anything useful that Art forgot to
mention--Art, you dope!"
"What's wrong now?" asked the technician, without moving.
"The welder and the stroboscope you spoke of--they're gone! And you
said the guards must have decided the stuff was harmless. What do we do
now?"
"The welder and stroboscope are in my pockets, and have been since last
night. You thought of the stuff's being taken, didn't you? And did you
_ever_ think of anything without my beating you to it? You worry about
your own department; I can take care of mine, I hope." The last phrase
was stimulated by an amused glance from the doctor.
* * * * *
They strolled out into the mixed crowd of humans and pentapods in the
corridor, and Arthur went over to the kitchen. He appeared to have
taken on permanently the job of cook's helper. Little located the
quartermaster, and began discussing the day's possibilities. They
seemed to be few. Most of the crew were specialists of one sort or
another, experts in the fields of knowledge and activity necessary to
fly and fight an interstellar cruiser; but one and all were hampered
by lack of materials and tools. The only way to get these appeared to
be theft, at which the crew of the _Gomeisa_ were not specialists. The
only advice Little could give was that the men should do their best to
smuggle in materials, to the exclusion of other occupations, and any
one who had a workable idea should let the others know what he needed
to work it. Not very helpful, since everybody already had that idea. It
looked as though time would pass rather boringly.
It did. The men wandered more or less freely about the roof and the
corridors of the building below, and occasionally went out to the
supply piles for material they wanted. To Magill's surprise, but not to
Little's, they were allowed to take even pieces of scientific apparatus
without interference.
"I don't get it," said the quartermaster when a man reported bringing
in a portable atomic melting furnace. "Anyone could see that that was a
dangerous tool in the hands of a prisoner. Why do they let us get away
with it?"
"To me," answered Little, "that is the least puzzling factor. The
treatment we are getting shows that there can be only one reason for
our capture--to learn from us. Naturally, we must be allowed access to
tools and scientific equipment. Then they watch our efforts to escape,
and help themselves to the results of our labor. What is so puzzling
about that?"
Magill was silent for several minutes. "Put that way," he said at last,
"it's obvious. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. That, I
suppose, is why you said they weren't a conceited race--they go to such
lengths to take the knowledge of others. But what happens if they're a
little slow in taking a weapon away from us?"
"Apparently they are prepared to take that risk. They have succeeded
so far with the Vegans, and they have all our standard weapons, you'll
note. That ability of theirs to guess the purpose of our actions is our
chief bugbear. It's unusual; most of the time it's almost impossible
for two races meeting for the first time to understand even each
other's standard gestures, let alone natural, unstereotyped face and
body motions. But do your best with that in mind."
Little did not say that, with the aid of the information given by the
Vegans, he had been able to deduce the reason for the almost telepathic
guessing ability of the pentapods; and he did not mention the plan
that he and the Dennis brothers were trying to put into operation.
If Magill went ahead with ideas of his own, it would probably occupy
much of the attention of their guards. Not that Little wanted it _all_
occupied.
* * * * *
The reports of the men who had wandered through the building agreed
with the statements of the Vegans--most places were permitted, below
ground was not, some rooms were locked, and some were open but the men
had been kept out. One room, on the top floor almost directly below the
prison quarters, appeared to be a communications office--which was a
natural situation, if the roof had originally been used as a landing
platform. The purpose of most of the others was not clear. Little did
some wandering himself, and personally checked most of the information.
That evening the Vegans ate with the men; their own supplies had given
out long before, of course, and they had been living on food supplied
by the pentapods. It was evidently harmless, but far from enjoyable,
according to the Vegans. Arthur Dennis served the food to them at their
doorway, and brought the mess kits back to the kitchen after the meal.
The guards usually withdrew some distance while the men were eating;
the odors evidently did not appeal to them. Consequently, there was
none of the creatures in the kitchen when Arthur brought back the kit.
His self-assigned position as cook's helper was becoming constantly
more useful, he reflected.
Days in prison tend to be rather boring. Nights are better because
one can sleep and forget the boredom for a while; but from this night
on Arthur Dennis knew he would sleep very little, though he planned
to trade his sleeping bag for one several sizes larger and retire
completely into it. He decided to develop the habit of keeping his face
partly covered by the canvas flap, and have his companions emulate him
to make the action seem more natural. He was jubilant when the others
came to the room.
"I have an icon tube, doc," he said from the depths of the sleeping
bag. "That's what worried me most. I can build the second-order
converter from the stuff I already had, and I can probably dig up
enough from the other boys to make the tube connections. It's lucky
they let us keep the hand lights. I don't know how I'd put this stuff
together in the dark."
"How did you get the tube?" asked Little. "I didn't see you go
downstairs all day, and I don't think many of the men knew about the
guards' having let a good deal of apparatus by without trouble, so they
wouldn't have done it for you."
Arthur grinned in the darkness. "Since I didn't have the Vegan
technique we mentioned, I bet one of the Vegans fifty Union credits it
couldn't be done--thus implying my doubt of his story of smuggling up
a neutrino unit. He slipped it into his mess kit this evening after
the meal, and I got it in the kitchen. He was a little touchy about my
rudeness, but I apologized this evening and he's cooled off. I pay the
bet if and when we reach a Union planet and can get some money." The
technician ceased speaking, and the flap fell again across the opening
of the bag.
Silence fell throughout the room, broken by the even breathing of two
people and the occasional almost inaudible footfalls of the guard
outside. Once or twice a shadow fell across the doorway as one of the
creatures looked in, but it defeated its own purpose by blocking the
light, and saw nothing. Dennis was careful, anyway, and allowed no
motion to show through the padded canvas of the sleeping bag.
He was not interrupted that night, and worked for two or three hours
before placing the partly completed unit in his kit and going to sleep.
* * * * *
The next morning it occurred to Little that the Vegans might have some
idea of the probable length of stay of the ship. After the morning meal
he squatted in front of the doorway of their quarters and questioned
the creatures.
"They usually remain about ten days," was the answer. "But it is
impossible to tell for sure. This is the first time prisoners have been
brought since we came. We didn't notice how long they stayed on our
arrival--we were too worried about other things."
"How long do they remain away, usually?"
"There is no 'usually' about it; the duration is absolutely
unpredictable as far as we can see. Sometimes the ship is gone for
only a day, sometimes for several weeks. It is evidently not a patrol
cruiser with a regular beat."
Little thanked the creature and left, to ponder the effect of the new
facts on his plans. He returned almost at once, to ask another question:
"Does the garrison of the fort appear to expect the ship at any time
before its actual arrival?"
"Not obviously, if at all," was the answer.
Little nodded, satisfied. He sought out the Dennis brothers. Leo was in
their sleeping room, trying to manufacture a photometer from the lenses
of a pair of dark goggles an atomic engineer had found in his pocket.
The doctor located Arthur and brought him back to the room, and asked
if either one knew anything about geletane.
"Not much," answered Leo. "I gathered that it was more than an ordinary
anæsthetic when I heard you had lived through an exposure to space
while under its influence."
"Right," nodded Little. "It produces, to put it crudely, suspended
animation. It is adsorbed, apparently, on all the cell surfaces in
the body, foreign bacteria included, and seals them from chemical
influence. One would expect that to produce death, since the
destruction of the gas film could not start the vital processes again;
but the patient always revives. I could put my finger on ten different
theses in the New York Medical Library, each suggesting a different
mechanism and none completely satisfactory. The film, when it breaks,
seems to do so everywhere at once, and there is an abnormal amount
of carbon dioxide in the blood immediately thereafter; but the whole
process is not thoroughly understood.
"It seems, however, that the cell walls themselves tend to cause
the breakdown of the film; and if a person exposed to the gas is
exercising violently, that action is increased to a point where he is
_not affected at all_. If he holds his breath, and otherwise suspends
body activity, it gets him almost instantly. The gas, as you can see,
has an all-or-none nature. I wanted you to understand this, because
it is possible we may have to use the gas in the near future. Think
it over." The brothers kept their faces nearly expressionless, but it
was perceptible that they thought the matter over with some pleasure.
Arthur, slightly the more imaginative of the two, immediately assumed
that the gassing was to take place when the communicator was finished,
so that they would have a chance to use it.
* * * * *
With this pleasant prospect in mind, Arthur worked even longer that
night. The converter was completed, and he began to construct a support
for the tube and its connections before he was forced to sleep. Again,
his work apparently went undetected by the ever-prowling guards. His
hopes showed so clearly on his face the next morning that his brother
kicked him firmly and ungently in the shins as a reminder of the
unbelievable expression-comprehension of the pentapods.
He reported to Little that the device would probably be completed that
night. The doctor nodded and said:
"Good work, Art. We probably had another week before the ship left, but
this is better than I expected. As soon as Leo gets his photometer done
and finds our distance from S Doradus, things should start to pop; and
that should be fairly soon." In this statement Little was half right;
things started happening quite soon, but they did not wait for the
navigator's mate to complete his tasks.
The doctor found Leo seated on one of the steps which lined the outer
wall. He was examining closely an object, consisting chiefly of several
small fragments of darkened glass, which proved to be his photometer;
and like his brother, he was obviously in good humor.
"All done, doc," he said on sighting Little. "I can measure
tonight--calibrate this thing on stars I can estimate, and then do
the beacon. It's lucky I already know its absolute magnitude. What do
you think are the chances of that gadget of Art's reaching a United
receiver?"
Little smiled without speaking, and shrugged his shoulders. His opinion
was that the question was unimportant, but it would not do to say so.
He might be misunderstood. He fully believed that they would be caught
the moment they attempted to start broadcasting. Without committing
himself, he admonished Leo not to lose the photometer, and went in
search of Magill.
To that officer he spoke earnestly for several minutes, making several
requests which were granted only after persuasion. One of them had
to do with the disposal of kitchen waste, and for once the doctor's
interest was not in sanitation.
The rest of the day passed in as boring a fashion as had the two
preceding.
* * * * *
Evening found the three conspirators in their room, planning the
night's activities. Arthur, of course, would remain to "sleep." They
found difficulty in deciding whether Little should remain with him, or
accompany Leo on his astronomical expedition. If he went without an
obvious purpose, the guards might wonder why he was the only curious
sightseer and why Arthur didn't go, too; if he remained, they might
wonder why he behaved differently from the previous occasion, and
investigate the sleepers. Even the insight Little had gained into their
thought processes could throw no light on this question.
Finally, he accompanied Leo, carrying the latter's pencil and pad to
provide himself with an excuse. As on the previous occasion, none of
the guards followed them through the door. They took up their former
station by the wall and seated themselves on the steps until S Doradus
should rise. The moon was only a little past first quarter, and the
beacon would not rise tonight until some two hours after the eclipse,
so they had a wait of nearly four hours. They had chosen to come out
early, to avoid falling asleep and missing their chance.
For the first time since their arrival on the planet, there were
clouds in the sky. These provided matter for conversation and anxiety
for nearly three hours as they completely covered the heavens on two
occasions; but by the time the waning moon was sinking low in the east
they had disappeared. The remaining time before observation could be
started was passed in silence.
As the glow on the eastern horizon warned of the mighty star's advent,
Leo went to work. Each of the fragments of glass he had obtained from
the engineer's goggles was tested in turn, a star viewed through the
darkened glass being compared with another seen directly. Little
noted the results on the pad, though there was little need. The
lenses had originally been very evenly darkened, and as nearly as Leo
could estimate, a single thickness of the glass cut about three and
five-tenths magnitudes from the brightness of an object.
When the beacon rose, his only task was to find the number of layers
necessary to reduce its apparent brightness to that of a star lying in
the range where his own judgment was good. The method obviously gave
room for error, which increased with each additional thickness used,
but it was better than guessing; and anyway, as Leo remarked, since S
Doradus is an irregular variable, the best instruments in Civilization
would still have left them with a probable error of over half a
magnitude.
He measured and computed. "Art was almost right, at that," he remarked
finally. "'Near S Doradus' would almost be enough. I get an apparent
magnitude of minus fourteen, which means a distance of just under one
parsec." He took a fresh sheet of paper from the pad and wrote rapidly.
"There," he said, handing it to Little, "is the complete specification
of our position, to two decimal places--I can't guess closer. It also
includes the type of this planet and sun in standard terms, and a rough
idea of our latitude on the planet. If you broadcast that and anyone
hears you, they'll find us."
"And he can go right ahead and broadcast it, as soon as the rubbernecks
are out of the way," broke in a new voice. "The gadget's done. I
haven't tested it, naturally, but it can't help working. Say the word,
doc."
* * * * *
Little shook his head. "Not tonight. We must arrange some way to keep
the broadcast from being too obvious. Come on to bed and we'll talk as
we go. It would be too bad to slip up now."
They arose and walked slowly toward the lighted doorway.
"It seems to me that we only need to gas the guards in the immediate
neighborhood, and lock ourselves into the quarters with them outside.
There are no outside catches on the main doors, and I could seal the
elevator panel with the welder--I didn't use it for the broadcaster,
and it should stand the overload long enough."
They passed into the corridor. "That might work," mused the doctor.
"There is only the one elevator, and no other entrances to the roof,
from below, anyway. But we'd want as many hours as we could get, and I
should think they could burn out the elevator door in a few minutes."
They entered the room in which they slept. "That could be prevented by
simply leaving that door open when the elevator was up and going into
action at that time," contributed Leo as they pulled off their boots.
"Then they couldn't get at either the elevator or its door."
"How about the other men?" asked Little. "It will be difficult to tell
them all about the geletane, and how to avoid its effects. What will--"
"Stop worrying about it," interrupted Arthur. He had lain down with the
pack for a pillow, moved it to a more comfortable spot, noticed the
ease with which it moved and, with a horrible suspicion in his mind,
looked into the kit box inside. "The communicator is gone."
Possibly the guards in the corridor and on the roof were laughing, if
their unhuman cerebral processes had ever evolved an emotion akin to
humor. Certainly, they were pleased with themselves.
"You loon," growled Leo. "Why did you have to celebrate finishing the
thing by tearing outside to tell us? It would have been simpler just to
step outside our door and hand it to a guard."
The night had not passed too peacefully, in spite of Little's advice
to save recriminations until morning. Relations between the twins were
slightly strained. The sunlight coming through the window revealed
only too clearly on Leo's face that expression of smug, "_I_ wouldn't
do such a thing" superiority that tends to drive repentant sinners to
homicide.
"The meeting will please come to order," interrupted the doctor. "Leo,
lay off Arthur. If it will make you any happier, Art, I'll tell you
that if neither of you boys had spilled the beans in a day or two, I
should have done so myself--carefully, of course. It was better for it
to happen naturally. Now sit around, and wear a disgusted expression
for the benefit of the guards if you like, and listen. This will take
some time.
"In the first place, I suppose you've realized by now that we were
captured simply for observation purposes; the pentapods hoped to learn
about our weapons and science from our efforts to escape. They have, we
must admit, been rather successful. Our activities have probably been
evident to them from the first, but they waited until the communicator
was completed before taking it, naturally. That habit of theirs struck
me when the Vegans first described the way in which their plans were
never interfered with until nearly mature.
"There was also the question of the surprising ease with which they
were able to divine our feeling and intentions. It took me longer to
discover the reason for that; but information supplied by the Vegans
again provided the key.
"Their language is not verbal. None of us has yet heard them utter a
vocal sound. We couldn't understand how they communicated, but to the
Vegans it was so evident as to be unworthy of comment--their captor's
language was of the same type as their own, visual rather than audible,
a sign language in which the thousands of mobile spines with which
their bodies are covered replaced the two antennae of a Vegan. It was
so complex that the Vegans couldn't begin to learn it, but the method
was obvious to them.
"That, to me, gave a nearly complete picture not only of their
language, but of their thought; not only of the way they exchanged
ideas, but of the very nature of those ideas.