by E. E. Smith
CHAPTER 6
Since the tests took much time, and were strictly routine in nature,there is no need to go into them in detail. At their conclusion, Garlocksaid:
"First: either Jim alone, or Lola alone, or Jim and Lola together, canhit any destination within any galaxy, but can't go from one galaxy toanother.
"Second: either Belle or I, or any combination containing either of uswithout the other, has no control at all.
"Third: Belle and I together, or any combination containing both of us,can go intergalactic under control.
"In spite of confession being supposed to be good for the soul, I don'tlike to admit that we've put gravel in the gear-box--do you, Belle?"Garlock's smile was both rueful and forced.
"You can play _that_ in spades." Belle licked her lips; for the firsttime since boarding the starship she was acutely embarrassed. "We'llhave to, of course. It was all my fault--it makes me look like a damnedstupid juvenile delinquent."
"Not by nineteen thousand kilocycles, since neither of us had any idea.I'll be glad to settle for half the blame."
* * *
"Will you please stop talking Sanskrit?" James asked. "Or lep it, so wetwo innocent bystanders can understand it?"
"Will do," and Garlock went on in thought. "Remember what I said aboutthis drive not being conditioned to anything? I was wrong. Belle and Ihave conditioned it, but badly. We've been fighting so much thatsomething or other in that mess down there has become conditioned toher; something else to me. My part will play along with anyone exceptBelle; hers with anybody except me. Anti-conditioning, you might callit. Anyway, they lay back their ears and balk."
"Oh, hell!" James snorted. "Talk about gobbledygook! You are stillsaying that that conglomeration of copper and silver and steel andinsulation that we built ourselves has got intelligence, and I stillwon't buy it."
"By no means. Remember, Jim, that this concept of mechanicalteleportation, and that the mind is the only possible controller, areabsolutely new. We've got to throw out all previous ideas and start newfrom scratch. I postulate, as a working hypothesis drawn from originaldata as modified by these tests, that that particular conglomeration ofmaterials generates at least two fields about the properties of which weknow nothing at all. That one of those properties is the tendency tobecome preferentially resonant with one mind and preferentiallynon-resonant with another. Clear so far?"
"As mud. It's a mighty tough blueprint to read." James scowled inthought. "However, it's no harder to swallow than Sanderson's Theory ofTeleportation. Or, for that matter, the actual basic coupling betweenmind and ordinary muscular action. Does that mean we'll have to rebuildhalf a million credits' worth of ... no, you and Belle can work it,together."
"I don't know." Garlock paced the floor. "I simply can't see any_possible_. mechanism of coupling."
"Subconscious, perhaps," Belle suggested.
"For my money that whole concept is invalid," Garlock said. "It merelychanges 'I don't know' to 'I can't know' and I don't want any part ofthat. However, 'unconscious' could be the answer ... if so, we may havea lever.... Belle, are you willing to bury your hatchet for about fiveminutes--work with me like a partner ought to?"
"I certainly am, Clee. Honestly. Screens down flat, if you say so."
"Half-way's enough, I think--you'll know when we get down there." Hermind joined his and he went on, "Ignore the machines themselvescompletely. Consider only the fields. Feel around with me--keeptuned!--see if there's anything at all here that we can grab hold of andmanipulate, like an Op field except probably very much finer. I'll becompletely damned if I can see how this type of Gunther generator canput out a manipulable field, but it must. That's the only--O-W-R-C-H-H!"
This last was a yell of pure mental agony. Both hands flew to his head,his face turned white, sweat poured, and he slumped down unconscious.
He came to, however, as the other three were stretching him out on adavenport. Belle was mopping his face with a handkerchief.
"What happened, Clee?" All three were exclaiming at once.
"I found my manipulable field, but a bomb went off in my brain when Istraightened it out." He searched his mind anxiously, then smiled. "Butno damage done--just the opposite. It opened up a Gunther cell I didn'tknow I had. Didn't it sock you, too, Belle?"
"Uh-uh," she said, more than half bitterly. "I must not have one. Thatmakes you a Super-Prime, if I may name a new classification."
"Nonsense! Of course you've got it. Unconscious, of course, like me, butwithout it you couldn't have conditioned the field. But why.... Oh, whatbit me was the one conditioned to me."
"Oh, nice!" Belle exclaimed. "Come on, Clee--let's go get mine!"
"Do you want a bit of knowledge _that_ badly, Belle?" Lola asked."Besides, wait, he isn't strong enough yet."
"Of course he's strong enough. A little knock like that? _Want_ it! I'dgive my right leg and ... and almost _anything_ for it. It didn't killhim, so it won't kill me."
"There may be an easier way," Garlock said. "I wouldn't wish a jolt likethat onto my worst enemy. But that had two hundred kilovolts and fourhundred kilogunts behind it. Since I know now where and what the cellis, I think I can open it up for you without being quite so rough."
"Oh, lovely. Come in, quick! I'm ready now."
* * *
Garlock went in; and wrought. It took longer--half an hour, in fact--butit was very much easier to take.
"What did it feel like, Belle?" Lola asked, eagerly. "You winced like hewas drilling teeth and struck a couple of nerves."
"Uh-uh. More like being stretched all out of shape. Like having a child,maybe, in a small way. Let's go, Clee!"
They joined up and went.
"Ha, _there_ you are, you cantankerous little fabrication of nothings!"Belle said aloud, in a low, throaty, gloating voice. "Take _that_--and_that_! And now behave yourself. If you don't, mama spank--but _good_!"Then, breaking connection, "Thanks a million, Clee; you're tall, solidgold. Do you want to run some more tests, to see which of us is theintergalactic transporter?"
"Not unless you do."
"Who, me? I'll be tickled to death not to; just like I'd swallowed anostrich feather. Back to Tellus, then?"
"Tellus, here we come," Garlock said. "Jim, what are the Tellurianfigures for exactly five hundred miles up?"
"I'll punch 'em--got 'em in my head." James did so. "Shall Brownie and Iset our blocks?"
"No," Belle said. "Nothing can interfere with us now."
"Ready." Garlock sat down in the pilot's seat. "Cluster 'round, chum."
* * *
Belle leaned against the back of the chair and put both arms aroundGarlock's neck. "I'm clustered."
"The spot we're shooting at is exactly over the exact center of themiddle blast-pit at Port Gunther. In sync?"
"To a skillionth of a whillionth of a microphase. I'm _exactly_ on andlocked. Shoot."
"Now, you sheet-iron bucket of nuts and bolts, _jump_!" and Garlocksnapped the red switch.
Earth lay beneath them. So did Port Gunther.
"Hu-u-u-uh!" Garlock's huge sigh held much more of relief than oftriumph.
"They did it! We're home!" Lola shrieked; and, breaking into unashamedand unrestrained tears, went into her husband's extended arms.
"Cry ahead, sweet. I'd bawl myself if Garlock wasn't looking. Maybe Iwill, anyway," James said. Then, extending his right arm to Garlock andto Belle, "I was scared to death you couldn't make it except by backtracking. Good going, you two Primes," but his thoughts said vastly morethan his words.
Belle's eyes, too, were wet; Garlock's own were not quite dry.
"You weren't as sure as you looked, then, that we could do it the hardway," Belle said. "All inside, I was one quivering mass of jelly."
"Afterward, you mean. You were solid as Gibraltar when I fired thecharge. You're the kind of woman a man wants with him when the going'stough. Slide around here a little, s
o I can get hold of you."
Garlock released Belle--finally--and turned to the pilot, who was justpulling a data-sheet from Compy the Computer. "How far did we misstarget, Jim?"
* * *
James held up his right hand, thumb and forefinger forming a circle."You're one point eight seven inches high, and off center point fivethree inches to the north northeast by east. I hereby award each of youthe bronze medal of Marksman First. Shall I take her down now or do youwant to check in from here first?"
"Neither ... I think. What do you think, Belle?"
"Right. Not until you-know-what."
"Check. Until we decide whether or not to let them know just yet that wecan handle the ship. If we do, how many of our taped reports we turn inand how many we toss down the chute."
"I get it!" James exclaimed, with a spreading grin. "_That_, my dearpeople, is something I never expected to live long enough to see--ourstraight-laced Doctor Garlock applying the Bugger Factor to a researchproblem!"
"I prefer the term 'Monk's Coefficient,' myself," Garlock said, "fromthe standpoint of mathematical rigor."
"At Polytech we called it 'Finagle's Formula'," Belle commented. "Themost widely applicable operator known."
"Have you three lost your minds?" Lola demanded. "That's nothing to jokeabout--you wouldn't destroy official reports! All that astronomy andanthropology that nobody ever even dreamed of before? You _couldn't_!Not _possibly_!"
"Each of us knows just as well as you do how much data we have, exactlyhow new and startling it is; but we've thought ahead farther than youhave. None of us likes the idea of destroying it a bit better than youdo. We won't, either, without your full, unreserved, wholeheartedconsent, nor without your fixed, iron-clad, unshakable determinationnever to reveal any least bit of it."
"That language is far too strong for me. I'd like to be able to go alongwith you, but on those terms, I simply can't."
"I think you can, when you've thought it through. You've met Alonzo P.Ferber, haven't you? Read him?"
"One glimpse; that was all I could stand. He pawed me mentally andwanted to paw me physically, the first time I ever saw him."
"Check. So I'm going to ask you two questions, which you may answer asan anthropologist, as Lola Montandon, as Mrs. James James James theNinth, as a member of our team, or as any other character you choose toassume. Remembering that Ferber's a Gunther First--and pretends to be anOperator whenever he can get away with it--should he, or anyone likehim, _ever_ be allowed to visit Hodell? Second question: if there is anypossible way for him to get there, can he be made to stay away?"
"Oh ... Grand Lady Neldine and that perfectly stunning Grand Lady Lemphithey picked out for Jim ... they're such _nice_ people ... and theGunther genes...." As Lola thought on, her expressive face showed avariety of conflicting emotions before it hardened into decision. "Theanswer to both questions--the only possible answer--is no. I subscribe;on the exact terms you stipulated. And you don't believe, Clee, that mythesis had anything to do with my holding out at first?"
"Certainly I don't. Besides...."
"What thesis?" Belle asked.
* * *
"For my Ph.D. in anthropology. I thought I had it made, but it just wentdown the chute. And I don't know if any of you realize just how nearlyimpossible it is to make a really worthwhile original contribution toscience in that field."
"As I started to tell you, Brownie," Garlock said, "I don't think you'velost a thing. There's a bigger and better one coming up."
"_What_?"
"Sh-h-h-h," Belle stage-whispered. "He's got a theory--such a weirdiethat he won't talk about it to anybody."
"It isn't a theory yet--at least, not ripe enough to pick--but it'ssomething more than a hunch," Garlock said.
"But what could _possibly_ make as good a thesis as those extra-galactictapes?" Lola wailed. "They would have made my thesis a summer breeze."
"More like a hurricane--the hottest thing since doctorate disputationsfirst started," Garlock said. "However, as I started to say twicebefore, it still will be. Intra-galactic tapes will be just as good. Inthis case, better."
"W-e-l-l ... possibly. But we haven't any."
"That is what this conference is about. We can't destroy the stuff wehave unless we can replace it with something better. My idea is that weshould visit a few--say fifty--Tellus-type planets in this galaxy; theones closest to Tellus. I'm pretty sure they'll be inhabited by _HomoSapiens_. There's a chance, of course, that they'll be like Hodell andthe others we've seen; in which case I don't see how we can keep Gunthergenes confined to Earth. However, I'm pretty sure in my own mind thatwe'll find them all very much like Tellus, Gunther and all. What wouldyou think of _that_ for a thesis, Lola?"
"Oh, wonderful!"
"Okay. Now to get back to whether we want to check in or not. I don'tlike to duck out without letting them know we can handle thisheap--after a fashion, that is; they don't need to know we can reallyhandle it--but we've got nothing we can report and Fatso will blow hisstack--Oh-oh! Should've remembered Tellus isn't Hodell; the tri-di'ssetting up! Belle, you take it. She'd give me Fatso, because he wants tochew me out, but she won't put him on for you. Cut her throat, but good!Brownie, hide somewhere! Jim, set up for Beta Centauri--not Alpha, butBeta--and fast! Give her hell, Belle!" Garlock sent this last thoughtfrom behind a davenport, from which hiding-place he could see the tri-discreen and both Belle and James; but anyone on the screen could not seehim.
* * *
Miss Foster's likeness appeared upon the screen. Chancellor Ferber'ssecretary was a big woman, but not fat; middle-aged, gray-haired,wearing consciously the aura and the domineering, overbearing expressionof a woman who has great power and an even greater drive to exert herauthority.
"Why haven't you reported in?" Miss Foster snapped, with a glare thatwas pure frost. "You arrived thirteen minutes ago. Such delay isinexcusable. Get Garlock."
"Captain Garlock is off-watch; asleep. I, Commander Bellamy, am incommand." Standing stiffly at attention, Belle paused to exchange glareswith the woman across the big desk. If Miss Foster's was frost,Commander Bellamy's was helium ice.
"Ready to go, Jim?" Belle flashed the thought.
"Half a minute yet."
"Any time after I sign off. Pick your own spot." Then aloud into thescreen: "I will report to Chancellor Ferber. I will not report toChancellor Ferber's secretary."
"Doctor James!" Miss Foster's voice was neither as cold nor as steady asit had been. "Bring that ship down at once!"
James made no sign that he had heard the order. Belle stood changelesslystiff. She had not for an instant taken her coldly competent eyes fromthose of the woman on the ground. Her emotionless, ultra-refrigeratedvoice went, as ever, directly into the screen.
"I trust that this conversation is being recorded?"
"It certainly is!"
"Good. I want it on record that we, the personnel of the starship_Pleiades_, are not subject to the verbal orders of the Chancellor'ssecretary. You will now connect me with Chancellor Ferber, please."
"The Chancellor is in conference and is not to be disturbed. I _have_authority to act for him. You will report to me, and do it right now."Foster's voice rose almost to a scream.
"That ground has been covered. Since you have taken it upon yourself toexceed your authority to such an extent as to refuse to connect theofficer in command of the _Pleiades_ with the Chancellor, I cannotreport to him either the reasons why we are not landing at this time orwhen we expect to return to Tellus. You are advised that we may leave atany instant, just like that!" Belle snapped her finger under the imagednose. "You may inform the Chancellor, or not inform him if you prefer,that our control of the starship _Pleiades_ is something less thanperfect. I do not know exactly how many seconds longer we will be here.Commander Bellamy signing off. Over and out."
"_Commander_ Bellamy, indeed! Commander my left foot!" Miss Foster wasscre
aming now, in thwarted fury. "You're no more a commander than mylowest office-girl is! Just wait 'till you get down here, yougreen-haired hussy, you shameless notor...." The set wentinstantaneously from full volume to zero sound as James drove the redbutton home.
"Belle, you honey!" Garlock scrambled out from behind the davenport,seized her around the waist, and swung her, feet high in air, throughfour full circles before he let her down and kissed her vigorously. "Youlittle _sweetheart_! You're the first living human being ever to reallypull Foster's cork!"
"_What_ a goat-getting!" James applauded. "That will go down in historyas the star-spangled act of the century."
* * *
Belle was, however, unusually diffident. "I stuck my neck out amile--worse, Clee's. I'm sorry, Clee. I had to have some weight to throwaround, and I had only a second to think, and that was the first thing Ithought of, and after half a minute she made me so _damn_ mad that Iwent entirely too far."
"Uh-uh. Just far enough. That was a _perfect_ job."
"But she'll never forget that, and she'll crucify you, as well as me,when we land. She knows I'm not a commander."
"She just thinks you ain't. The official log will show, though, thatafter only one day out I discovered that we should all be officers--onecaptain and three commanders--with pay and perquisites of rank. I'llthink up good and sufficient reasons for it between now and when I makeup the log."
"But you can't! Or can you, really?"
"Well, nobody told me I couldn't, so I assumed the right. Besides, youdidn't tell her commander of what, so I'll make it stick, too--see if Idon't. Or else I'll tear two or three offices apart finding out why Ican't. You can be sure of that."
"All that may not be necessary," Lola said. "That tape will never beheard. I'll bet she's erased it already."
"Perhaps; but ours isn't going to be erased--it will be heard exactlywhere it will do the most good."
"I'm awfully glad you don't think we're on the hook. All that's left,then, is that second-in-command business. Both of you know, of course,that that was just window-dressing."
"You were telling the truth and didn't know it," James said, cheerfully."You have actually been second-in-command ever since the drive tests."
"I haven't, and I won't. Surely you don't think I'm enough of a heel,Jim, to step on your toes like that?"
"Nothing like that involved. You tell her, Clee."
"Gunther ability is what counts. You're a Prime, Jim's an Operator; so,now that we can handle the heap, you'll have to be second-in-commandwhether you like it or not. Any time you can out-Gunther me we'll tradeplaces. And you won't have to take the job away from me--I'll give it toyou."
"But ... no hard feelings, Jim? No reservations? Screens down?"
"None whatever. In fact, I'm relieved. I'm Gunthered for this boardhere--for that one I'm not. Come in and look; and shake on it."
* * *
Belle looked; and while they were shaking hands, she flashed a thoughtat Lola. "Do you know that we've got two of the finest men that everlived?"
"I've known that for a long time," Lola flashed back, "but you've hardlystarted to realize what they _really_ are."
"Well, shall we start earning our pay and perquisites by getting to workon this planet, that we haven't even looked--wait a minute! We're justabout to open up the galaxy, aren't we?"
They were.
"Then there'll have to be some kind of a unifying and correlatingauthority--a Galactic Council or something--and the quicker it's set upthe better; the less confusion and turmoil and jockeying-for-positionthere will be. Question: should this authority be political?"
"It should _not_!" James declared. "It takes United Worlds seven soliddays of debate to decide whether or not to buy one lead pencil."
"Military--or naval, I suppose it'd be--that's what Clee's driving at,"Belle said. "You're wonderful, Clee--simply priceless! We're officers ofthe brand-new Galactic Navy. Subject to civilian control, of course, butthe civilians will be the United Galaxian Societies of the Galaxy, andnobody else. _Beautiful_, Clee! There are ten Operators, Jim. Right?"
* * *
"Check. Brownie and I are here; the other eight are running the GalaxianSociety under Clee. And the whole Society eats out of his hand."
"I don't know about that, but Belle and I together could swing it, Ithink."
"I'll say we could," Belle breathed. "And I simply can't wait to see youkick Fatso's teeth in with _this_ one!"
"I don't like the word 'Navy'," Garlock said. "It's tied definitely towarfare. How about calling it the 'Galactic Service'? Applicable toeither war or peace. Brass Hats will think of us in terms of war, eventhough we will actually work for peace. Any objections?"
There were no objections.
"About the uniforms," Lola said, eagerly. "Space-black and star-white,with chromium comets and things on the shoulders...."
"To hell with uniforms," Garlock broke in. "Why do women have to go offthe deep end on clothes?"
"She's right--you're wrong, Clee," James said. "Without a uniform youwon't get off the ground, not even with the Society. And you'll betalking to Top Planetary Brass. Also, they're Gunthered plenty--you canfeel their Op field clear out here."
"Could be," Garlock conceded. "Okay, you girls dope it out to suityourselves. But think you can stand it, Belle, to wear more than twelvesquare inches of clothes?"
"Wait 'til you see it, chum. I've been designing a uniform for myselffor positively _years_."
"I can't wait. And you're a captain, of course."
"Huh? You can't have two cap.... Oh, I see. Primes. I appreciate that,Clee. Thanks."
"Hold on, both of you," James said. "You haven't thought this throughfar enough. Suppose we meet forces already organized? Better start highthan low. You've got to be top admiral, Clee."
"Rocket-oil! Suppose we don't find anything at all?"
"You're right, Jim," Belle said. "Clee, you talk like a man with a papernose. It's _you_ who's been yowling for two solid years about beingready for _anything_. We've got to do just that."
"Correction accepted. Brief me."
"Ranks should be different from those of United Worlds. They should bedescriptive, but impressive. Tops could be Galactic Admiral. That's you.Vice Galactic Admiral; me...."
"Galactic Vice Admiral would be better," Lola said.
"Accepted. Those two we'll make stick come hell or space-warps. Right?"
Garlock did not reply immediately. "Up to either one of two points," heagreed, finally.
"What points?"
"War, or being out-Gunthered. Top Gunther takes top place; man, woman,bird, beast, fish, or bug-eyed monster."
"Oh." Belle was staggered for a moment. "No war, of course. As to theother ... I hadn't thought of that."
"There are a lot of things none of us has thought of, but as amendedI'll buy it."
"Then several Regional Admirals, each with his Regional Vice Admiral.Then System Admirals and Vices, and World or Planetary--naming theplanet, you know--Admirals and Vices. Let the various Galaxian Societiestake over from there down. How do you like _them_ potatoes, Buster?"
"Nice. And formal address, intra-ship, will be Mister and Miss. Jim andBrownie?"
They liked it. "Where do we fit in?" James asked.
"Pick your own spots," Garlock said.
"If we stick to the Solar System we aren't so apt to get bumped byPrimes. So make me Solar System Admiral and Brownie my Vice."
"Okay. How long will it take you, Belle, to materialize those uniforms?"
"Fifteen seconds longer than it takes the converter to scan us. Lola'scolor scheme is right, and I've got everything else down to the lastcurlicue of chrome. Let's go."
* * *
They went: and came back into the Main in uniform. Belle had really donea job.
That of the men, while something on the spectacular side, was more orless convent
ional, with stiff-visored, screened, heavily-chromed caps;but the women's! Slippers, overseas caps, shorts and jackets--but whatjackets!
"Well...." Garlock said, after examining the two girls speechlessly fora good half minute. "It doesn't look _exactly_ like a spray-on job; butif you ever take a deep breath it'll split from here to there. Flyoff--leave you naked as a jay-bird."
"Oh, no. The fabric stretches a little. See? Nothing like a sweater, buta similar effect--perhaps a bit more so."
"Quite a bit more so, I'd say. However, since Operators and Primes areautomatically stacked like Tennick Towers, I don't suppose your recruitswill be unduly perturbed at, or will squawk too much about,overexposure. Are we finally ready to go down and get to work?"
"I am," James said. "How do you want to handle it?"
"Run a search pattern. Belle and I will center their Op field and checkon Ops and Primes. You two probe at will."
Around and around the planet, in brief bursts of completelyincomprehensible speed, the huge ship darted; the biggest, solidest, yetmost elusive and fantastic "flying saucer" ever to visit that world. Thetremendous oceans and six great continents were traversed; the ice-caps;the frigid, the temperate, and the torrid zones. Wherever she went,powerful and efficient radar scanned and tracked her; wherever she went,excitement seethed.
"Beta Centauri Five," Garlock reported, after a few minutes. "Margonia,they call it. Biggest continent and nation named Nargoda. Capital cityMargon; Margon Base on coast nearby. Lots of Gunther Firsts. All thereal Gunther, though, is clear across the continent. They're building astarship. Fourteen Ops and two Primes--man and woman. Deggi Delcamp's abig bruiser, with a God-awful lot of stuff. Ugly as hell, though. He's abossy type."
"I'm amazed," James played it straight. "I thought all male Primes wouldbe just like you. Timorous Timmies."
"Huh? Oh...." Garlock was taken slightly aback, but went on quickly,"What do you think of your opposite number, Belle?" He whistled awolf-call and made hour-glass motions with his hands. "I'd thought oftrading you in on a new model, but Fao Talaho is no bargain, either--and_nobody's_ push-over."
"_Trade_! You _tomcat_!" Belle's nostrils flared. "You know what thatbleached-blonde tried to do? High-hat _me!_"
"I noticed. When we four get down to business, face to face, thereshould be some interesting by-products."
"You chirped it, boss. Primes seem to be such _nice_ people." Jamesrolled his eyes upward and steepled his hands. "If you've got all thedope, no use finishing this search pattern."
"Go ahead. Window dressing. The Brass hasn't any idea of what's goingon, any more than ours did."
The search went on until, "This is it," James reported. "Where? OverMargon Base?"
"Check. Kick us over there, ten or twelve hundred miles up."
"On the way, boss. Looks like your theory is about ready to pick."
"It isn't much of a theory yet; just that cultural and evolutionarypatterns should be more or less homogeneous within galaxies. Until itcan explain why so many out-galaxies are just alike it doesn't amount tomuch. By the way, I'm glad you people insisted on organization and rankand uniforms. The Brass is going to take a certain amount of convincing.Take over, Brownie--this is your dish."
"I was afraid of that."
The others watched Lola drive her probe--a diamond-clear, razor-sharpbolt of thought that no Gunther First could possibly either wield orstop--down into the innermost private office of that immense andfar-flung base. Through Lola's inner eyes they saw a tall, trim,handsome, fiftyish man in a resplendent uniform of purple and gold; theywatched her brush aside that officer's hard-held mental block.
* * *
"I greet you, Supreme Grand Marshal Entlore, Highest Commander of theArmed Forces of Nargoda. This is the starship _Pleiades_, of System Sol,Planet Tellus. I am Sol-System Vice-Admiral Lola Montandon. I have withme as guests three of my superior officers of the Galactic Service,including the Galactic Admiral himself. We are making a good-will tourof the Tellus-Type planets of this region of space. I request permissionto land and information as to your landing conventions. The landingpad--bottom--of the _Pleiades_ is flat; sixty feet wide by one hundredtwenty feet long. Area loading is approximately eight tons per squarefoot. Solid, dry ground is perfectly satisfactory. While we landvertically, with little or no shock impact, I prefer not to riskdamaging your pavement."
They all felt the Marshal's thoughts race. "Starship! Tellus--Sol, thatinsignificant Type G dwarf! Interstellar travel a commonplace! A ship_that_ size and weight--an organized, uniformed, functioning Galaxy-wideNavy and they don't want to _damage_ my _pavement_! My God!"
"Good going, Brownie! Kiss her for me, Jim." Garlock flashed thethought.
Entlore, realizing that his every thought was being read, pulled himselftogether. "I admit that I was shocked, Admiral Montandon. Butlanding--really, I have nothing to do with landings. They are handledby...."
"I realize that, sir; but you realize that no underling could possiblyauthorize my landing. That is why I always start at the top. Besides, Ido not like to waste time on officers of much lower rank than my own,and," Lola allowed a strong tinge of good humor to creep into herthought, "the bigger they are, the less apt they are to pass thewell-known buck."
"You have had experience, I see," the Marshal laughed. He _did_ have asense of humor. "While landing here is forbidden--top secret, youknow--would my refusal mean much to you?"
"Having made satisfactory contact, I introduce you to Galactic AdmiralGarlock. Take over, sir, please."
* * *
Entlore winced, for the probe Garlock used then compared to Lola's verymuch as a diamond drill compares to a piece of soft brass pipe.
"It would mean everything to us," Garlock assured him. "Our mission is aperfectly friendly one. We will have a friendly visit or none. If you donot care for our friendship, another nation will."
"That wouldn't do, either, of course." Entlore paused in thought. "Itboils down to this: I must either welcome you or destroy you."
"You may try." Garlock grinned in frankly self-satisfied amusement."However, the best you can do is lithium-hydride fusion missiles in thehundreds-of-megatons range. Firecrackers. Every once in a while a planethas to try a few such things on us before it will believe that we arepowerful as well as friendly. Would you like to test our defenses? Ifso, I will neither take offense nor retaliate."
Supreme Grand Marshal Entlore was floored. "Why ... er ... not at all. Iread in your mind...." He broke off, to quell an invasion into his ownprivate office. "Damn it, keep _still_!" all four "heard" him yell. "Iknow they ran a search pattern. I know _that_, too. I know _everything_about it, I tell you! I'm in full rapport with their Supreme GrandAdmiral. There's only the one ship, they're friendly, and I'm invitingthem to land here on Margon Base. Give that to the press. Say also thatentrance restrictions to Margon Base will not be relaxed at present.Grand Marshal Holson and ComOff Flurnoy, stay here and tune in. The restof you get out and _stay_ out! Throw all reports about any alien vesselor flying saucer or what-have-you into the waste-basket!"
"Resume command, please, Miss Montandon," Garlock directed; and withdrewhis probe from Entlore's mind.
"I thank you, Supreme Grand Marshal Entlore, for your welcome," Lolasent. "I'm sorry that our visits cause so much disturbance, but Isuppose it can't be helped. Our Gunther blocks are down. Would you andyour two assistants like to teleport out here to us, and con us downyourselves?" Lola knew instantly that they could not, and covered deftlyfor them. "But of course you can't, without knowing a focus spot here inthe Main. Shall I teleport you aboard?"
* * *
ComOff Flurnoy's face--she was an attractive, nicely-built red-headwearing throat-mike, earphone, and recorder--turned so pale that a faintline of freckles stood out across the bridge of her nose. She veryevidently wanted to scream a protest, but would not. Both men, strangelyenough, were eager to go. Instantly all t
hree were standing in line onthe deep-piled rug of the Main, facing the four Tellurians. Seven bodiescame rigidly to attention, seven right hands snapped into two varietiesof formal salute. Standing thus, each party studied the other for acouple of seconds.
There was no doubt at all as to which two of the visitors the twoNargodian men were studying; but neither of them could quite make up hismind as to which of the black-and-white-clad women to study first ormost. The red-head's glance, too, flickered between Belle andGarlock--incredulous envy and equally incredulous admiration lit hereyes.
"At rest, please, fellow-officers," Garlock said, and Lola performed thenecessary introductions, adding, "We do not, however, use titles aboardship. Mister and Miss are customary and sufficient."
Behind each row of officers a long davenport appeared; between them atable loaded with sandwiches, olives, pickles, relishes, fruits, nuts,soft drinks, cigars, and cigarettes.
"Help yourselves," Garlock invited. "We serve neither intoxicants nordrugs, but you should find something there to your taste."
"Indeed we shall, and thank you," Entlore said. "Is there any objection,Mr. Garlock, to Miss Flurnoy transmitting information of this meetingand of this ship to our base?"
"None whatever. Send as you please, Miss Flurnoy, or as Mr. Entloredirects."
"I'm glad I didn't quite scare myself out of coming up here," theCommunications Officer said. "This is the biggest and nicest thrill Iever had. Such a thrill that I don't know just where to begin." Shecocked an eyebrow at her commanding officer.
"As usual. Whatever you think should be sent." Entlore sent her asteadying thought. Then, as the girl settled back with a sandwich in onehand and a tall glass of ginger-ale in the other, he went on, toGarlock, "She is a very fine and very strong telepath--by our standards,at least."
"By galactic standards also." Garlock had of course been checking."Accurate, sharp, wide-range, clear-thinking, and fast. Not one of usfour could do it any better."
"I thank you, Mr. Garlock," the girl said, with a blush of pleasure--andwith scarcely a perceptible pause in her work.
* * *
A tour of the ship followed; and as it progressed, the more confused anddismayed the two Nargodian commanders became.
"But no crew at _all_?" Holson demanded incredulously. "How can a thinglike this _possibly_ work?"
"It's fully Gunthered," Lola explained. "It works itself. That is,almost all the time. Whenever we land on any planet for the first time,one of us has to control it. Or for any other special job not in itsmemory banks. When you're ready for us to land I'll show you--it's myturn to work."
"Miss Flurnoy, have they cleared the air over Pylon Six?"
"Yes, sir. Clearance came through five minutes ago. They are holding itclear for us."
"Thank you. Miss Montandon, you may land at your convenience."
"Thank you, sir." Lola took the pilot's chair. "This is the scanner. Ipull it over my face and head, so. Since I am always in tune with thefield...."
"What does _that_ mean?" Entlore asked, dark foreboding in his mind.
"I was afraid of that. You can't feel an Operator Field. I'm sorry, sir,but that means you can't handle these forces and never will be able to.Certain Gunther areas of your brain are inoperative. On our scale youare a Gunther First...."
"On ours, I'm an Esper Ten, the highest rating in the world--except fora few theoretical crackpots who.... Excuse me, please, I shouldn't havesaid that, in view of what I see happening here."
"No offense taken, sir. Those who developed the Gunther Drive werecrackpots until they got the first starship out into space. But withthis scanner on, I think of where I want to look and I can see it. Ithen think the ship a few miles sidewise--so--and we are now directlyover your Pylon Six. I'm starting down, but I won't go into free fall."
Apparent weight grew less and less, until: "This is about enough foryou, Miss Flurnoy?"
"Just," the ComOff agreed, with a gulp. "One pound less and I'm afraidI'll upchuck that lovely lunch I just ate."
"We're going fast enough now. Everyone sitting down? Brace yourselves,please. You'll be about fifty percent overweight for a while."
* * *
As bodies settled deeper into cushions Entlore sent Garlock athought. "We three weigh about five hundred pounds. You liftedus--instantaneously or nearly so, but I'll pass the question ofacceleration for the moment--eleven hundred miles straight up. How didyou repeal the Law of Conservation?"
"We didn't. We have fusion engines of twenty million horsepower. OurOperator Field, which has a radius of fifteen thousand miles and ischarged to an electrogravitic potential of one hundred thousand gunts,stores energy. Its action is not exactly like that of an electricalcondenser or of a storage battery, but is more or less analogous toboth. Thus, the energy required to lift you three came from the field,but the amount was so small that it did not lower the potential of thefield by any measurable amount. Setting this ship down--call it sixtythousand tons for a thousand miles at one gravity--will increase thefield's potential by approximately one-tenth of one gunt. Have youstudied paraphysics?"
"No."
"It wasn't practical, eh?" Garlock smiled. "Then I can't make even astab at explaining instantaneous translation to you. I'll just say thatthere is no acceleration involved, no time lapse. There is no violationof the Law of Conservation since departure and arrival points areequi-Guntherial. But what I am really interested in is that small groupof high espers you mentioned."
"Yes, I inferred that from Miss Montandon's comments." Entlore fellsilent and Garlock watched his somber thoughts picture Margon Base andhis nation's capital being attacked and destroyed by a fleet ofinvincible and invulnerable starships like this _Pleiades_.
"You are wrong, sir," Garlock put in, quietly. "The Galactic Service hasnot had, does not and will not have, anything to do with intra-planetaryaffairs. We have no connection with, and no responsibility to, any worldor any group of worlds. We are an arm of the United Galaxian Societiesof the Galaxy. Our function is to control space. To forbid, to prevent,to rectify any interplanetary or interstellar aggression. Above all, toprevent, by means of procedures up to and including total destruction ofplanets if necessary, any attempt whatever to form any multi-worldempire."
The three Nargodians gasped as one, as much at the scope of the thing asat the calmly cold certainty of ability carried by the thought.
"You are transmitting this precisely, Miss Flurnoy?" Entlore asked.
"Precisely, sir; including background, fringes, connotations, andimplications; just as he is giving it to us."
"Let us assume that your Nargodian government decides to conquer all theother nations of your planet Margonia. Assume farther that it succeeds.We will not object; in fact, we will, as a usual thing, not even beinformed of it. If then, however, your government decides that one worldis not enough for it to rule and prepares to conquer, or take aggressiveaction against, any other world, we will be informed and we will stepin. First, warning will be given. Second, any and all vessels dispatchedon such a mission will be annihilated. Third, if the offense iscontinued or repeated, trial will be held before the Galactic Counciland any sentence imposed will be carried out."
In spite of Garlock's manner and message, both marshals were highlyrelieved. "You're in plenty of time, with us, sir," Entlore said. "Wehave just sent our first rocket to our nearer moon ... that is, unlessthat group of--of espers gets their ship off the ground."
"How far along are they?"
"The ship itself is built, but they are having trouble with their drive.The hull is spherical, and much smaller than this one. It has atomicengines, but no blasts or ion-plates ... but neither has this one!"
"Exactly; they may be pretty well along. I'd like to get in touch withthem as soon as possible. May I borrow a 'talker' like Miss Flurnoy fora few days? You have others, I suppose?"
"Yes, but I'll let you have her; it is of the essence that you have t
hebest one available. Miss Flurnoy?"
"Yes, sir?" Besides reporting, she had been conversing busily with Jamesand Belle.
"Would you like to be assigned to Mr. Garlock for the duration of hisstay on Margonia?"
"Oh, _yes_, sir!" she replied, excitedly.
"You are so assigned. Take orders from him or from any designate asthough I myself were issuing them."
"Thank you, sir ... but what limits? And do I transmit to and/or recordfor you, sir?"
"No limit. These four Galaxians are hereby granted nation-wide topclearance. Transmit as usual whatever is permitted."
"Full reporting is not only permitted, but urged," Garlock said. "Thereis nothing secret about our mission."
* * *
As the _Pleiades_ landed: "If you will give us your focus spot, Mr.Entlore, we can all 'port to your office and save calling staff cars."
"And cause a revolution?" Entlore laughed. "Apparently you haven't beenchecking outside."
"Afraid I haven't. I've been thinking."
"Take a look. I got orders from the Cabinet to put guards whereverpeople absolutely must not go, and open everything else to the public. I_hope_ there are enough guards to keep a lane open for us, but Iwouldn't bet on it." Garlock was very glad that the military men's stiffformality had disappeared. "You Galaxians took this whole planet bystorm while you were still above the stratosphere."
* * *
There is no need to go into detail concerning the reception andcelebration. On Earth, one inauguration of a president and onecoronation of a monarch were each almost as well covered bybroadcasters, if not as turbulently and enthusiastically prolonged. Fromthe _Pleiades_ they went to the Administration Building, where aninformal reception was held. Thence to the Capitol, where the receptionwas very formal indeed. Thence to the Grand Ballroom of the city'slargest hotel, where a tremendous--and long-winded--banquet was served.
At Garlock's request, all sixteen members of the "crackpot" group--themost active members of the Deep Space Club--had been invited to thebanquet. And, even though Garlock was a very busy man, his talker tunedin to each one of the sixteen, tuned them all to the Galactic Admiral,and in odd moments a great deal of business was done.
After being told most of the story--in tight-beamed thoughts that ComOffFlurnoy could not receive--the whole group was wildly enthusiastic. Theywould change the name of their club forthwith to The Galaxian Society OfMargonia. They laid plans for a world-wide organization which would havetremendous prestige and tremendous income. They already had afield--Garlock knew about their ship--they wanted the _Pleiades_ to moveover to it as soon as possible--Yes, Garlock thought he could do it thefollowing day--if not, as soon as he could....
* * *
The _Pleiades_ had landed at ten o'clock in the forenoon, local time;the banquet did not come to an end until long after midnight. Throughoutall this time the four Galaxians carried on, without a slip, the actthat all this was, to them, old stuff.
It was just a little before daylight when they returned, exhausted, tothe ship. ComOff Flurnoy went with them. She was still agog at thewonder of it all as Belle and Brownie showed her to her quarters.