In the Marintha, Howell drew a deep breath, still staring at the screens which showed the few last denser dust-clumpings. They represented the last-comers. Karen stared incredulously at the mistiness which was all that could be seen.
“It appears,” said Howell with some care, “that we finally hit on what the small-folk saw right away in our garbage-disposal unit. They’ve got plans for this trick. Now, as soon as they foregather at the next meeting place, they’ll pass on the trick of destroying garbage—because incidentally it destroys slug-ships!”
Ketch made an inarticulate small sound. His emotions were hopelessly mixed.
Breen said heavily, “They were really very unpleasant creatures, Howell! I think we are well out of this affair. What do you plan to do now?”
“Head home,” said Howell briskly. “We could carry on with our original plans if we wished, of course. If we keep the garbage unit running, we need only to have a slug-ship try to approach us to dispose of it without even knowing it. But I think our ships at home ought to be told about the trick. Robots in orbit about occupied worlds will take care of any slug-ship that might stumble on them. But that’s for precaution. I doubt that the beasts will try to go to space at all, after a few more experiences.”
Breen frowned reflectively. Then he said, “Experiences? But they won’t—”
“They’ll have the experience,” said Howell, “of sending ships to space and having them never come back. They can never find out how it happens. Any slug-ship that gets close enough to—say—a small-folk globe-ship, will disintegrate before its crew can grasp the idea. And even if they knew the whole trick—it wouldn’t work against a metal ship, and they can’t make ships for a chlorine atmosphere without making them of plastic.”
“Hm,” said Breen profoundly. “I see… yes, I see.”
Howell swung the Marintha about. He set a course with infinite care. He said, “Overdrive coming!”
Breen winced and Ketch growled as the acute discomfort of entering overdrive gripped them. Karen caught her breath. Howell stood up from the pilot’s chair.
“And I have a personal reason for wanting to get back to Earth,” he observed. “Karen?”
He led her out of the control room. Her eyes were shining.
“The—small-people will have garbage disposers, too,” she said in wondering relief. “And then they can really defend themselves against the slug-men! I’m glad of that! It seems so terrible for them to be hunted—”
“They’ll do the hunting now,” said Howell gruffly. “The garbage units won’t act in atmosphere, of course, so they can’t attack the chlorine-breathers’ planets as the beasts’ ancestors attacked and destroyed our forefathers’ cities. But the beasts will learn to stay aground!”
He led her the length of the saloon. He opened the door of the ship’s-stores cabinet. He ushered her in.
“The baby small-people are adorable!” said Karen softly. “I’m so glad they’ll be safe!” Then Howell closed the cabinet door and she said, “But what—why—”
“I explained once,” said Howell, “why I didn’t act romantic after we’d—er—admitted a certain interest in each other. I was busy, I said, trying to make you safe. I think you’re safe now. I’m preparing to argue that we should be married as soon as we can get back to Earth. We might as well tell your father we’re going to marry, anyhow. Shall I argue?”
“But—how—?”
“Like this,” said Howell.
He kissed her.
Space Gypsies Page 15
