"It says," stated Eagan deliberately, "'_In order that work or rest
periods of the Dome's staff may not be disturbed, it is hereby ordered
that the playing or practicing of all or any musical instruments must
be discontinued immediately. By order of the Dome Commander_,' That
means you, Jones!"
"But, dingbust it!" keened Isobar, "it don't disturb nobody for me to
play my bagpipes! I know these lunks around here don't appreciate good
music, so I always go in my office and lock the door after me--"
"But the Dome," pointed out Commander Eagan, "has an air-conditioning
system which can't be shut off. The ungodly moans of
your--er--so-called musical instrument can be heard through the entire
structure."
He suddenly seemed to gain stature.
"No, Jones, this order is final! You cannot disrupt our entire
organization for your own--er--amusement."
"But--" said Isobar.
"No!"
Isobar wriggled desperately. Life on Luna was sorry enough already.
If now they took from him the last remaining solace he had, the last
amusement which lightened his moments of freedom--
"Look, Commander!" he pleaded, "I tell you what I'll do. I won't bother
nobody. I'll go Outside and play it--"
"Outside!" Eagan stared at him incredulously. "Are you mad? How about
the Grannies?"
Isobar knew all about the Grannies. The only mobile form of life
found by space-questing man on Earth's satellite, their name was an
abbreviation of the descriptive one applied to them by the first Lunar
exployers: Granitebacks. This was no exaggeration; if anything, it was
an understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain low
intelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding and
implacable foe.
Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had ever
yet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; science
was completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition of
Graniteback physiology--but it was known, from bitter experience, that
the carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of something
harder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could be
penetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame,
by electronic nor ionic wave, nor by the lethal, newly discovered
atomo-needle dispenser.
All this Isobar knew about the Grannies. Yet:
"They ain't been any Grannies seen around the Dome," he said, "for
a 'coon's age. Anyhow, if I seen any comin', I could run right back
inside--"
"No!" said Commander Eagan flatly. "Absolutely, _no_! I have no time
for such nonsense. You know the orders--obey them! And now, gentlemen,
good afternoon!"
He left. Sparks turned to Isobar, grinning.
"Well," he said, "one man's fish--hey, Jonesy? Too bad you can't play
your doodlesack any more, but frankly, I'm just as glad. Of all the
awful screeching wails--"
But Isobar Jones, generally mild and gentle, was now in a perfect
fury. His pale eyes blazed, he stomped his foot on the floor, and from
his lips poured a stream of such angry invective that Riley looked
startled. Words that, to Isobar, were the utter dregs of violent
profanity.
"Oh, dagnab it!" fumed Isobar Jones. "Oh, tarnation and dingbust!
Oh--_fiddlesticks_!"