words. Of course, we do think in visual images, too, but _logical
reasoning_, in human minds at least, takes the form of an unuttered
conversation with oneself. Think through the proof of a theorem in
grade-school geometry, if you don't believe it. With creatures like
the Vegans, an analogous process takes place; they think in terms of
the visible symbols of their language. The language, as you know, is
slow--takes much longer to get ideas across. Also, it takes longer for
a Vegan to comprehend something, though they certainly can't be called
stupid.
"The same thing should happen, and does happen, with our captors. They
think and talk immeasurably _faster_ than we do; and their thoughts are
not in arbitrary word or picture symbols, but in attitudes. Watching
them, I have come to the conclusion that they don't have a language
as we understand it at all; the motions and patterns of the spines,
which convey thought from one to another, are as unconscious and
natural as expressions on our faces. The difference being that their
'faces' cover most of their bodies, and have a far greater capacity
for expression. The result is that they have as easy a time learning
to interpret expressions and bodily attitudes of other creatures, as
we would have learning a simple verbal tongue. What the psychologists
call attitude--or expression, to us--is the key to their whole mental
activity. Until we understood that, we had no chance of using their own
methods to defeat them, or even of understanding the methods.
* * * * *
"When Albee and the others made that break, you noticed that the
pentapods wasted no time in pursuing a man who was even slightly out
of reach; they were able to reason with extreme rapidity even in a
situation like that, and realized that they couldn't catch him. A man
would have tried, at least.
"Like everything else, this high-speed communication has its
disadvantages. These creatures could never have invented the telephone,
any more than the Vegans did: and they'd have had the same difficulty
with gadgets such as the telegraph. I don't know anything about their
written language, but it must be ideographic and contain, unless
I underestimate their capacity for bringing order out of chaos, a
perfectly appalling number of symbols. Who could make up a dot-and-dash
code for that? The Orientals of Earth had the same trouble. That would
interfere with the 'evolution' of communication devices.
"Their long-distance communication, therefore, must be purely visual
transmission. We have seen the television screens in their office
downstairs--ten feet square, enough to picture any of the creatures
full length. I'm sure that they can't broadcast their vision for two
reasons: the Vegans say the ship always returns unexpectedly, and
preparations are never made a few hours in advance of its arrival--as
they would be if they could broadcast news of their approach. Also,
there is no sign anywhere on this building of a beam type second-order
projector, or even the loop of a general field broadcaster such as Art
was making. The images are transmitted by wire, and only inside this
building. That was the reason, Art, that I insisted on your making a
visual transmitter. They would have no desire to copy a telephone unit.
They have it now; they'll have a full-size visual before that ship
leaves; and their communications room is right below here, and should
contain emergency accumulators in case the regular power goes.
"When the ship leaves, we wait a day. Then we collect the kitchen
refuse, which Denham is accumulating, and pile it into the elevator to
take outside--Leo, get that happy expression off your face--making the
load big enough so that none of the guards can ride with us, though
they don't usually these days anyway. Just before we go, the stove will
break down, and Denham will come kicking about it. Arthur will go back,
tinker with the stove, remove the geletane tank now clamped to it and
replace it with another, and toss the 'used' tank in with the rest of
the waste. The elevator will descend one floor, and we will emerge with
the tank open. We will _run_ toward the office, which is just down the
hall, in order to avert the effects of the geletane by activity; we
will hold handkerchiefs over our faces to let the guards know we have
gas, and hold their breaths. Two of us will enter the communication
office, while the third will remain outside to destroy the door
control. He can spend the rest of his time welding the door shut, until
that welder gives out.
"The guards and operators inside should be under the influence of the
gas by then, and will be thrown out before the welding starts. The two
of us who are inside will keep exercising until the ventilators clear
the air in the room; then we can use the vision transmitter to our
heart's content, until the starfish can bring up heavy tools and burn
through the door. There are a dozen United bases within five hundred
parsecs, even I know; and five minutes should be ample to contact one
of them and give our situation.
"Art, did you really think I hoped to get anywhere with that pint-sized
thing you built? The pentapods have us here so that we can build
equipment for them; I decided that turn about was fair play. I only
hope those infernally quick minds of theirs don't grasp the fact that
two can play at one game. In case they should, I think we had better
start working with Magill on whatever plan he has evolved; that will
keep us occupied, reduce the chance of our betraying our secret,
and may prove a valuable second string to the bow if our plan falls
through. Let's have breakfast."
* * * * *
Little had spoken lightly of "working in" with Magill on whatever
plan of escape that worthy might have evolved; at breakfast he
discovered that no less than four lines of attack were being developed
simultaneously. The quartermaster was hoping that one of them would
go undiscovered long enough to reach a climax. He had not divided the
men into separate groups for each job; the idea was to confuse the
guards by having everybody work on all the plans at once. Confusion had
certainly resulted, though none of the pentapods showed the symptoms.
Little, first making sure that his own private plan would not be
affected by any of the others, plunged joyfully into the conflicting
tasks of (1) finding and using one or more of the aircraft which Magill
was positive were stored beneath the roof; (2) getting an armed party
of human beings into the interstellar flier of the pentapods; (3)
carrying out the original Vegan plan of flooding the building with
ultraviolet light without at the same time forcing out the men; and (4)
locating an arsenal of the pentapods and simply clearing a section of
the building by brute force. Magill intended to use whichever of these
plans first attained practicability.
Four days were spent in this fashion. Work at least prevented them from
being as boring as the preceding three, though little or no progress
was made. On the morning of the fifth day, however, just after the
morning meal, an event occurred which opened a fifth line of procedure,
and almost caused Magill to abandon the others.
One of the men had gone out onto the roof; and the others were
attracted by his cry. Little, following the others to the edge of the
roof, looked over; and was rewarded with a clear view of nothing at
all. The line of pentapods which had been loading supplies into the
vast cruiser was not to be seen, and the vessel's ports were closed.
The men watched silently and expectantly, reasonably sure of what was
to happen.
Perhaps ten minutes passed without a word being spoken; then, without
sound or ceremony, the tremendous cylinder of metal drifted lightly
upward. The men followed it for a short distance with their eyes; they
might have watched longer, if their attention had not been distracted
by an object revealed by the cruiser's departure.
Just beyond the depression in the soil left by the great ship there
appeared a second, much smaller, silvery metal torpedo; and a howl of
surprise burst from almost every human throat on the rooftop. It was
the _Gomeisa_, her ports open, apparently unharmed, and--apparently
deserted.
For several seconds after that involuntary expression of astonishment
there was dead silence; then Magill spoke.
"This puts a new light on the situation. Don't do anything rash until
we decide just how this affects our position; our plans will certainly
need modification. I'll be in the market for ideas all morning; we'll
have a general discussion meeting after dinner." He turned away from
the edge and walked back toward the doorway.
* * * * *
Denham had long since been coached in his part; he played it without
a hitch. The load of refuse and the tank of geletane were tossed into
the elevator; the three men followed. No guards entered; since the
departure of their ship they had concentrated on guarding the lower
doors rather than preventing the prisoners from wandering about the
fort. Little slid the door of the cage closed and touched the button
next to the top, and Arthur took the welder from his pocket.
Slow as it was, the car took but a few seconds to reach the next level.
It stopped; Little looked at his companions and slid open the door, at
the same instant opening the valve of his gas tank. The three dashed
into the corridor and toward the office, handkerchiefs pressed over
their mouths and noses.
Two pentapods stood at the open door of the communication room. They
swept instantly toward the approaching men, but must have conversed
with others inside the room even in that time, for three more emerged
after them.
Fast as the men were running, the gas diffused ahead of them; and
the rearmost guards, who were moving more slowly than the others
were paradoxically, the first to go down under the invisible attack.
The others heard them fall, deduced the cause, presumably held their
breath--and dropped as though shot. The men hurtled into the room,
Little still leading, and found it empty. Evidently the communication
officers had joined the guards and, confident of their ability to
overcome three human beings, had not even sounded an alarm.
Leo Dennis leaped toward a mass of equipment that was all too plainly
of recent installation; Little reversed his motion, snatched the welder
from Arthur's hand, and darted back through the door.
"I'll look after this end," he said, "and saturate the air in the
corridor while I'm at it. I'm more used to gas and can probably avoid
its effects longer than you, Art." He slid the metal portal shut with
a clang, tossed the still-open gas cylinder across the hall, and set
to work with the welder. He jumped up and down, kicking, dancing,
and waving his free arm as he worked; but the hand holding the torch
remained steady.
Reluctantly, the metal of door and frame fused and flowed under the
heat. The tiny lever that had actuated the opening mechanism dripped
away. Slowly a glowing line of red marked the edge of the door and
extended around it, a line that did not cease its slow growth as a
dozen guards raced around a corner and collapsed as one the moment they
paused to take in the situation. One, at least, must have been far
enough behind to signal to others; seconds later, another group, clad
in transparent, baggy air suits, sped into sight. At almost the same
instant the little torch expired.
Little straightened, dropping the instrument, and saw the approaching
guards. He turned to run toward the elevator, and saw another group
rapidly approaching from that direction. Knowing the futility of the
attempt, he tried to dodge past them; one swerved, reached, and an
instant later he was pinned motionless as he had been once before
in the first break for freedom. But he was still in the region of
geletane-impregnated air.
* * * * *
Dr. Little opened his eyes with that peculiar feeling of having done
the same thing before. This time memory returned almost instantly; he
struggled to his feet, helped by the men clustered around him. He was
on the roof of the fort where a stiff breeze had cleared the last of
the gas from his lungs and cell walls. No guards were in evidence.
"How did it go?" he asked, seeing the grinning features of the Dennis
brothers beside him. "Did you get through?"
"We did. It took them nearly an hour to get heavy tools and cut
in--after all, we had control of their local 'telephone' central.
They must have called their own ship back at once; it came in ten
minutes ago, and they're rushing stuff aboard. I think they're going to
abandon this place before help arrives for us. The Ardomese I talked to
promised a squadron in fifteen hours.
"I wish that starfish ship had been farther away--we might have been
able to take some prisoners of our own. But I'm afraid they'll have
time to clear out."
"You're not annoyed, are you?" asked Little. "After all, they didn't
hurt you fellows when they found you in the communication room. I think
they're rather good sports, myself. After all, they've been risking all
along the chance that we might do just what we did; they haven't hurt
anyone; and the _Gomeisa_ is not seriously damaged."
"Nevertheless, they committed an act of war against the Union," cut
in Magill, "and they have stolen a lot of valuable information. The
_Gomeisa_ carried stuff that could make them dangerous enemies."
"They have had plenty of time to duplicate that armament, and
unquestionably have done so," returned Little, "but they seem to have
no intention of staying and using it on our ships. I think their
curiosity was purely academic; perhaps this was all a game to them.
In any case, I can't make myself feel anger toward them. I'm curious,
myself, and personally I rather like the creatures. You can make
yourself do the same, Keys; the whole thing is only a question of
attitude." The doctor traded knowing winks with the Dennis brothers.