Subspace Survivors
Page 7
feel a lot better, knowing I'm not going to give birth to amonster. Or _are_ you sure, really?"
"Of _course_ I'm sure!" Adams snapped, testily, and Barbara led Destonaside.
"Have you got the _slightest_ idea of what he was talking about?" sheasked.
"Just the slightest, if any. Either that time is relative--no, that's soelementary he wouldn't mention it. Maybe he's figured out a _variable_time of some kind or other. Anyway, you girls' slowness in producing hasgiven the old boy a big lift, and I'm mighty glad of it."
"But aren't you _worried_, sweetheart? Not even the least little bit?"
"Of course not," and Deston very evidently meant just that.
"I am. I can't help but be. Why aren't you?"
"Because Doc isn't, and he knows his stuff, believe me. He can't lie anybetter than a three-year-old, and he's _sure_ that all four of you arejust as safe as though you were in God's lefthand hip pocket."
"Oh--that's right. I never thought of it that way. So I _don't_ haveanything to worry about, do I?" She lifted her lips to be kissed; andthe kiss was long and sweet.
* * * * *
Time flew past until, one day a couple of weeks short of arrival, Adamsrushed up to Deston and Jones. "I have it!" he shouted, and began tospout a torrent of higher--very _much_ higher--mathematics.
"Hold it, Doc!" Deston held up an expostulatory hand. "I read you zeroand ten. Can't you delouse your signal? Whittle the stuff down to oursize?"
"W-e-l-l-," the scientist looked hurt, but did consent to forego thehigh math. "The discharge _is_ catastrophic; in energy equivalentsomething of the order of magnitude of ten thousand discharges oflightning. And, unfortunately, I do _not_ know what it is. It isvirtually certain, however, that we will be able to dissipate it insuccessive decrements by the use of long, thin leads extending downwardtoward a high point of the planet."
"Wire, you mean? What kind?"
"The material is not important except in that it should have sufficienttensile strength to support as many miles as possible of its ownlength."
"We've got dozens of coils of hook-up wire," Deston said, "but not toomany _miles_ and it's soft stuff."
"_Graham_ wire!" Jones snapped his finger.
"Of course," Deston agreed. "Hundreds of miles of it. Float the senserdown on a Hotchkiss----"
"Tear-out." Jones objected.
"Bailey it--spidered out to twenty or so big, flat feet. That'll takemetal, but we can cannibal the whole Middle without weakening thestructure."
"Sure ... surges--backlash. Remote it."
"Check. Remote everything to Baby Two, and----"
"Would you mind delousing _your_ signal?" Adams asked, caustically.
"'Scuse, please, Doc. A guy does talk better in his own lingo, doesn'the? Well, Graham wire is one-point-three-millimeter-diameter,ultra-high-tensile steel wire. Used for re-wrapping the Grahams, youknow."
"No, I don't know. What are Grahams?"
"Why, they're the intermediates between the Chaytors ... O. K., O. K.,they're something like bottles, that have to stand terrifically highpressures."
"That's what I want to know. Such wire will do very nicely. Note nowthat our bodies must be grounded very thoroughly to the metal of theship."
"You're so right. We'll wrap the girls in silver-mesh underwear up tothe eyeballs, and run leads as big as my wrist to the frame."
* * * * *
The approach was made, and the fourth planet out from that strange sunwas selected as a ground. That planet was not at all like Earth. It hadvery little water, very little atmosphere, and very little vegetation.It was twice as massive as Earth; its surface was rugged and jagged; oneof its stupendous mountain ranges had sharp peaks more than fortythousand feet high.
"There's one thing more we must do," Adams said. "I have barelybegun to study this zeta field, and this one may very well beunique--irreplaceable. We must, therefore, launch all thelifecraft--except Number Two, of course--into separate orbits aroundthis sun, so that a properly-staffed and properly-equipped expeditioncan study it."
"Your proper expedition might get its pants burned off, too."
"There is always that possibility; but I will insist on being assignedto the project. This information, young man, is _necessary_."
"O. K., Doc," and it was done; and in a few days the _Procyon_ hungmotionless, a good five hundred miles high, directly above the highest,sharpest mountain peak they had been able to find.
The Bailey boom, with its spider-web-like network of grounding cablesand with a large pulley at its end, extended two hundred feet straightout from the side of the ship. A twenty-five-mile coil of Graham wirewas mounted on the remote-controlled Hotchkiss reel. The end of the wirewas run out over the pulley; a fifteen-pound weight, to act both as a"senser" and to keep the wire from fouling, was attached; and a fewhundred feet of wire were run out.
Then, in Lifecraft Two--as far away from the "business district" as theycould get--the human bodies were grounded and Deston started the reel.The wire ran out--and ran--and ran--and ran. The full twenty-five mileswere paid out, and still nothing happened. Then, very slowly, Deston letthe big ship move straight downward. Until, finally, it happened.
There was a blast beside which the most terrific flash of lightning everseen on Earth would have seemed like a firecracker. In what was almost avacuum though she was, the whole immense mass of the _Procyon_ washurled upward like the cork out of a champagne bottle. And as for whatit _felt_ like--since the five who experienced it could never describeit, even to each other, it is obviously indescribable by or to anyoneelse. As Bernice said long afterward, when she was being pressed by anewsman: "Just tell 'em it was the living end," and that is as good adescription as any.
The girls were unwrapped from their silver-mesh cocoons and, after aminute or so of semihysterics, were as good as new. Then Deston staredinto the 'scope and gulped. Without saying a word he waved a hand andthe others looked. It seemed as though the entire tip of the mountainwas gone; had become a seething, flaming volcano on a world that hadknown no volcanism[3] for hundreds of thousands of years.
[3] Transcriber's note: The original read 'vulcanism'.
"And what," said Deston finally, "do you suppose happened to the otherside of the ship?"
The boom, of course, was gone. So were all twenty of the groundingcables which, each the size of a man's arm, had fanned out in alldirections to anchorages welded solidly to the vessel's skin and frame.The anchorages, too, were gone; and tons upon tons of high-alloy steelplating and structural members for many feet around where each anchoragehad been. Steel had run like water; had been blown away in gusts ofvapor.
"Shall I try the radio now, Doc?" Deston asked.
"By no means. This first blast would, of course, be the worst, but therewill be several more, of decreasing violence."
* * * * *
There were. The second, while it volatilized the boom and its groundingnetwork, merely fused portions of the anchorages. The third took onlythe boom itself; the fourth took only the dangling miles of wire. At thesixth trial nothing--apparently--happened; whereupon the wire was drawnin and a two-hundred-pound mass of steel was lowered until it was infirm and quiescent contact with the solid rock of the planet.
"Now you may try your radio," Adams said.
Deston flipped a switch and spoke, quietly but clearly, into amicrophone. "_Procyon One_ to Control Six. Flight Eight Four Nine.Subspace Radio Test Ninety-Five--I think. How do you read me, ControlSix?"
The reply was highly unorthodox. It was a wild yell, followed by wordsnot directed at Deston at all. "Captain Reamer! Captain French! CaptainHolloway! ANYBODY! It's the _Procyon_! The _PROCYON_, that was lost ayear ago! Unless some fool is playing a dumb joke."
"It's no joke--I hope." Another voice, crisp and authoritative, came in;growing louder as its source approached the distant pickup. "Or somebodywill rot in jail for a hundred years."
"_Procyon One_ to Control Six," Deston said again. His voice was notquite steady this time; both girls were crying openly and joyfully. "Howdo you read me, Frenchy old horse?"
"It _is Procyon One_--the Runt himself--Hi, Babe!" the new voice roared,then quieted to normal volume. "I read you eight and one. Survivors?"
"Five. Second Officer Jones, our wives, and Dr. Andrew Adams, a Fellowof the College of Advanced Study. He's solely responsible for our beinghere, so----"
"Skip that for now. In a lifecraft? No,