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If you ignite a jet of oxygen-nitrogen in an atmosphere ofhydrogen-methane, you get a flame that doesn't differ much from theflame from a hydrogen-methane jet in an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. Aflame doesn't particularly care which way the electrons jump, just solong as they jump.
All of which was due to give Mike the Angel more headaches than healready had, which was 100 per cent too many.
Three days after the _Brainchild_ landed, the scout group arrived fromthe base that had been built on Eisberg to take care of Snookums. Theleader, a heavy-set engineer named Treadmore, who had unkempt brownishhair and a sad look in his eyes, informed Captain Quill that there was agreat deal of work to be done. And his countenance became even sadder.
Mike, who had, perforce, been called in to take part in the conference,listened in silence while the engineer talked.
The officers' wardroom, of which Mike the Angel was becoming heartilysick, seemed like a tomb which echoed and re-echoed the lugubrious voiceof Engineer Treadmore.
"We were warned, of course," he said, in a normally dismal tone, "thatit would be extremely difficult to set down the ship which carriedSnookums, and that we could expect the final base to be anywhere fromten to thirty miles from the original, temporary base." He looked roundat everyone, giving the impression of a collie which had just beenkicked by Albert Payson Terhune.
"We understand, naturally, that you could not help landing so far fromour original base," he said, giving them absolution with faint damns,"but it will entail a great deal of extra labor. A hundred and ninemiles is a great distance to carry equipment, and, actually, thedistance is a great deal more, considering the configuration of theterrain. The...."
The upshot of the whole thing was that only part of the crew couldpossibly be spared to go home on the _Fireball_, which was orbiting highabove the atmosphere. And, since there was no point in sending a smallload home at extra expense when the _Fireball_ could wait for theothers, it meant that nobody could go home at all for four more weeks.The extra help was needed to get the new base established.
It was obviously impossible to try to move the _Brainchild_ a hundredmiles. With nothing to power her but the Translation drive, she was ashelpless as a submarine on the Sahara. Especially now that her drive wasshot.
The Eisberg base had to be built around Snookums, who was, after all,the only reason for the base's existence. And, too, the power plant ofthe _Brainchild_ had been destined to be the source of power for thepermanent base.
It wasn't too bad, really. A little extra time, but not much.
The advance base, commanded by Treadmore, was fairly well equipped. Fortransportation, they had one jet-powered aircraft, a couple of'copters, and fifteen ground-crawlers with fat tires, plus all kinds ofpowered construction machinery. All of them were fueled with liquidHNO_{3}, which makes a pretty good fuel in an atmosphere that ispredominantly methane. Like the gasoline-air engines of a centurybefore, they were spark-started reciprocating engines, except for theturbine-powered aircraft.
The only trouble with the whole project was that the materials had to betoted across a hundred miles of exceedingly hostile territory.
Treadmore, looking like a tortured bloodhound, said: "But we'll make it,won't we?"
Everyone nodded dismally.
* * * * *
Mike the Angel had a job he emphatically didn't like. He was supposed toconvert the power plant of the _Brainchild_ from a spaceship driver intoa stationary generator. The conversion job itself wasn't tedious; inprinciple, it was similar to taking the engine out of an automobile andconverting it to a power plant for an electric generator. In fact, itwas somewhat simpler, in theory, since the engines of the _Brainchild_were already equipped for heavy drainage to run the electrical systemsaboard ship, and to power and refrigerate Snookums' gigantic brain,which was no mean task in itself.
But Michael Raphael Gabriel, head of one of the foremost--if not _the_foremost--power design corporations in the known Galaxy, did not likedegrading something. To convert the _Brainchild's_ plant from aspaceship drive to an electric power plant seemed to him to be on thesame order as using a turboelectric generator to power a flashlight. Awaste.
To make things worse, the small percentage of hydrogen in theatmosphere got sneaky sometimes. It could insinuate itself into placeswhere neither the methane nor the ammonia could get. Someone once calledhydrogen the "cockroach element," since, like that antediluvian insect,the molecules of H_{2} can insidiously infiltrate themselves into placeswhere they are not only unwelcome, but shouldn't even be able to go. Atred heat, the little molecules can squeeze themselves through thecrystalline interstices of quartz and steel.
Granted, the temperature of Eisberg is a long way from red hot, butnormal sealing still won't keep out hydrogen. Add to that the fact thathydrogen and methane are both colorless, odorless, and tasteless, andyou have the beginnings of an explosive situation.
The only reason that no one died is because the Space Service is what itis.
Unlike the land, sea, and air forces of Earth, the Space Service doesnot have a long history of fighting other human beings. There has neverbeen a space war, and, the way things stand, there is no likelihood ofone in the foreseeable future.
But the Space Service _does_ fight, in its own way. It fights theairlessness of space and the unfriendly atmospheres of exotic planets,using machines, intelligence, knowledge, and human courage as itsweapons. Some battles have been lost; others have been won. And the waris still going on. It is an unending war, one which has no victory insight.
It is, as far as we can tell, the only war in human history in whichMankind is fully justified as the invading aggressor.
It is not a defensive war; neither space nor other planets have attackedMan. Man has invaded space "simply because it is there." It is war of adifferent sort, true, but it is nonetheless a war.
The Space Service was used to the kind of battle it waged on Eisberg. Itwas prepared to lose men, but even more prepared to save them.
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