“Could we dare to hope?” asked Walt.
“Let’s wait. They’ll have to hitch the microphone on.”
“Give ‘em a half-hour at least.”
Twenty minutes later, a strange voice came through the speaker. “Dr. Channing, of Venus Equilateral? We have been contacted by your organization with respect to the possibility of your being able to hear the intership communicator system. This seems impossible, but we are not ones to question. The fact that you are in possession of the facts concerning our love of the music of our ancestors is proof enough that you must have heard something. I presume that further information is desired, and I shall wait for your return. This is Ling Kai Chang, Captain of the Lady of Cathay.”
“We got it!” chortled Don.
He did a war dance in the lab, and the rest followed suit. Bits of wire and oddments of one sort or another filled the air as the big, grown-up men did a spring dance and strewed the floor with daintily thrown junk. At the height of the racket, Arden and Christine entered—no, they were literally hauled in, completely surrounded, and almost smothered.
Arden fought herself free and said: “What’s going on?”
“We’ve just contacted a ship in space!”
“So what? Haven’t we been doing that for months?”
“They’ve just contacted us, too!”
“Huh?” Arden asked, her eyes widening.
“None other. Wait, I’ll get an answer.” Don contacted Ben, in the decoupler room, and said: “Ben, hang this line on the Lady of Cathay beam, will you?”
“Is that her?”
“None other.”
“Go ahead. She’s coupled.”
Don pecked out a message. “Please describe the intercommunication system used by your ship in detail. We have heard you, and you are, therefore, the first ship to contact Venus Equilateral from space flight. Congratulations.”
Eight minutes later, the voice of Captain Chang returned.
“Dr. Channing, I am handing the microphone over to Ling Wei, our electronics engineer, who blows the system in and out. He’ll work with you on this problem.”
Ling Wei said: “Hello. This is great. But I’m not certain how it’s done. The output of the phono system is very small, and certainly not capable of putting out the power necessary to reach Venus Equilateral from here. However, we are using a wired-radio system at seventeen hundred and ninety kilocycles in lieu of the usual cable system. The crew all like music, and, therefore, we play the recordings of our ancestral musicians at most incessantly.”
He paused for breath, and Channing said: “Walt, tap out a message concerning the lead length of the cables that supply the driver anodes. Have him check them for radio frequency pickup.”
“I get it.”
The ‘type began to click.
-
The communication was carried on for hour after hour. Don’s guess was right: the lead that connected the first driver anode was tuned in wavelength to almost perfect resonance with the frequency of the wired-radio communicator system. Channing thanked them profusely, and they rang off. Soon afterward, the wailing, moaning music returned to the air.
“Wonder if we could get that without the radio?” said Don.
“Don’t know. We can pack the juice on in the amplifier and see, now that we have it toned on the button,” Walt said.
“It won’t,” said Wes. “I’ve been all across the dial of the alloy disk. Nothing at all.”
“O.K. Well, so what if it doesn’t? We’ve still got us a ship-to-ship communications system. Hey! What was that?”
That was a pale, flat-sounding human voice saying: “Kingman! VE Pfd. has been at six hundred and nine for two days, now. What’s our next move?”
“Kingman!” Channing exploded. “Why, the … the—”
“Careful,” warned Arden. “There’s a lady present.”
“Huh?”
“Her,” said Arden pointing at Christine.
“Wait,” Walt said. “Maybe he’ll answer.”
Don fiddled with the dials for a full fifteen minutes, keeping them very close to the spot marked, hoping that Kingman’s answer might not be too far out of tune. He gave up as the answer was not to be found, and returned to the original setting.
Ten minutes later the voice said: “Kingman, where in the devil is my answer. I want to know what our next move is. There isn’t a bit of VE stock available. Why don’t you answer?”
Then, dimly in the background, a voice spoke to the operator of the instrument. “Kingman’s probably asleep. That terrible moaning stuff he’s been complaining about makes him turn the thing off as soon as the day’s market is off. He—and the rest of that crew—can’t stand it. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow’s market opens before he’ll be listening.”
“O.K.,” said the operator, and then went silent.
“Kingman!” said Don Channing. “So he’s the bright guy behind this. I get it now. Somehow he discovered a detector, and he’s been playing the market by getting the quotations by sub-etheric transmission at C2 and beating the Northern Landing market. And did you get the latest bit of hick? Kingman still is unaware of the fact that we are onto him—and have perfected this C2 transmission. Here’s where he gets caught in his own trap!”
“How?”
“We’re not in too bad shape for making good, honest two-ways out of this sub-ether stuff. Kingman is still behind because he hasn’t got a return line back to Terra—he must be using our beams, which gives us a return edge.”
“Why not get him tossed into the clink?” asked Walt.
“That’s practical. Besides, we’re sitting in a great big pile of gravy right now. We can prove Kingman has been violating the law to embezzle, mulct, steal, commit grand larceny, and so on. We’re going to take a swing at Mr. Kingman and Terran Electric that they won’t forget. We can’t lose, because I’m not a good sportsman when I find that I’ve been tricked. We’re going after Kingman in our own fashion—and if we lose, we’re going to tinhorn and cry for the gendarmes. I’m not proud.”
“What do you plan?”
“We’ll put a horde of folks on the decoupler files with the code of Terran Electric filed with the government offices. We can get the code, and I’m of the opinion that Kingman wouldn’t take time to figure out a new code, so he’ll be using the old one. As soon as we find a message in that code that is either addressed Terran Electric, or pertains to VE, Preferred, stock, we’ll start to intercept all such messages and use them for our own good.”
“That’s illegal.”
“Yep. But who’s gonna holler? Kingman can’t.”
“But suppose we lose—”
“Kingman will not know we’ve been tricking him. Besides, we can’t lose with two ways to get ahead of this one. Come on, fellows, we’ve got to help get the extra receivers together.”
“How are we going to cut through the Channing Layer?”
“Easy. That’s where we’ll use the relay stations at Luna, Deimos, and the six portables that circle Venus.”
“I get it O.K., Don, let’s get to work.”
“Right. And we’d better leave a guy here to collect any more interesting messages from Kingman’s crowd. We can tune it right onto Kingman’s alloy, and that’ll make that music take a back seat. We need narrower selectivity.”
“Chuck’s gang will find that, if it is to be found,” Walt smiled. “We’re really on the track this time.”
-
A dead-black spaceship drifted across the face of Luna slowly, and its course, though apparently aimless, was the course of a ship or a man hunting something. It darted swiftly, poised, and then zigzagged forward, each straightside of the jagged course shorter than the one before. It passed over a small crater and stopped short.
Below, there was a spaceship parked beside a driver tube anchored in the pumice.
The black ship hovered above the parked ship, and then dropped sharply, ramming the observation dome on top with it
s harder, smaller bottom. The two ships tilted and fell, crushing the ground near the poised driver tube. Space-suited men assaulted the damaged ship, broke into the bent and battered plates, and emerged with three men who were still struggling to get their suits adjusted properly.
Channing’s men took over the poised driver tube, and in their own ship. Walt spoke over a sub-ether radio of a different type.
“Don, we got him.”
Don answered from Venus Equilateral, and his voice had no more delay than if he had been within a hundred yards of the crater on Luna.
“Good. Stay where you are; you can contact the Lunar Relay Station from there. Wes is all ready on Station 3 above Northern Landing with his set, and Jim Baler is at the Deimos station.”
“Hi, Walt,” came Wes’ voice.
“Hi,” said Jim Baler.
“Hello, fellows,” said Walt. “Well, what cooks?”
“Kingman!” said Channing, with a tone of finality. “You’ve got your orders, Walt. When Kingman expects the market to go down, tell him it’s still going up. We’ll figure this out as we go along, but he won’t like it at all.”
There was silence for a few minutes, and then Don said: “Walt, Kingman’s sent a message through to Northern Landing station now. He says: ‘Dump a block to shake the suckers loose. This is pyramided so high that they should all climb on the sell wagon; running the market down of their own weight. When it hits a new low, we’ll buy, and this time end up by having control. When he starts to run the market down, you buy at Terra.”
Minutes later, the message hit the Terra market, and Kingman’s agents started to unload. The stock started off at six hundred and nine, and it soon dropped to five-forty. It hovered there, and then took another gradual slide to four-seventy.
Then a message came through the regular beam station, which Walt intercepted, decoded with Terran Electric’s own code book, and read as follows: “VE, Preferred, coming in fast. Shall we wait?” He chuckled and spoke into the driver modulator. “Kingman,” he said, “some wiseacre is still buying. VE, Preferred, is running at seven-ninety! What now?” In the Venus Equilateral radio, he said: “Don, I just fixed him.”
From Venus, Wes said: “You sure did. He’s giving orders to drop more stock. This is too dirty to be funny, but Kingman asked for it. I know him. He’s got this set up so that no one can do a thing on this market program without orders from him. Too bad we can’t withhold the Northern Landing quotations from him.”
The Luna beam brought forth another message intended for Kingman’s interceptor at Luna. “VE, Preferred, is dropping like a plummet. When can we buy?”
Walt smiled and said into Kingman’s setup, “Kingman! VE, Preferred, is now at eight hundred and seventy!”
Not many minutes later, Wes said: “That was foul, Walt. He’s just given orders to run the market down at any cost.”
“O.K.,” said Walt. “But he’s going to go nuts when the Northern Landing Exchange starts down without ever getting to that mythical nine hundred.”
“Let him wonder. Meanwhile, fellows, let’s run ourselves a slide on Terran Electric. Sell the works!”
Terran Electric started down as VE, Preferred, took its third drop. It passed three hundred, and started down the two hundred numbers.
Walt shook his head and said to Kingman: “Kingman, we’re getting results now. She’s dropped back again—to six hundred and three.” Then he said: “Kingman, someone is playing hob with TE, Preferred. She’s up to two hundred and fifty-one.” To Don, Walt said: “Good thing that Kingman has that Chinese symphony for a bit of good music, or he’d recognize my voice.”
“Which way will he jump?” laughed Don. “That was a slick bit of Kingman-baiting, Walt, in spite of your voice.”
“Kingman’s taking it hard,” said Wes. “He says to drop some of his own stock so that they can use the money to manipulate the VE stuff.”
“O.K.,” said Jim Baler. “This looks like a good time to think about buying some of Kingman’s stuff. Right?”
“Wait until the sales hit bottom,” Don said. “Walt, tip us off.”
“O.K. What now?”
“Wait a bit and see.”
Terran Electric went down some more, and then Jim said: “Now?”
“Now,” answered Don. “You, too, Wes.”
“Me, too?” Walt asked.
“You continue to sell!”
“Oh-oh,” said Wes. “Kingman is wild. He wants to know what’s the matter with the market.”
“Tell him that your end is all right, and that VE, Preferred, is still going down, but steady.”
“O.K.,” said Walt.
The hours went by, and Kingman became more and more frantic. VE, Preferred, would be reported at five hundred, but the Northern Landing Exchange said two-ten. Meanwhile, Terran Electric—
“Oh, lovely!” said Don. “Beautiful. We’ve got us a reciprocating market now, better than Kingman’s. When she’s up at Terra, they’re down at Canalopsis and Northern Landing—and vice versa. Keep it pumping boys, and we’ll get enough money to buy Kingman out.”
The vacillating market went on, and Don’s gang continued to rock the Terran Electric stock. Then, as the market was about to close for the day, Don said: “Sell ‘em short!”
Terran Electric stock appeared on the market in great quantities. Its value dropped down and down and down, and Kingman—apprised of the fall by Walt, who magnified it by not less than two to one—apparently got frantic again, for he said: “We’re running short. Drop your Terran stock to bolster the VE job!”
“Oh, lovely!” said Don.
“You said that.”
“I repeat it. Look, fellows, gather all the TE, Preferred, and VE, Preferred, you can. Wait, tell them that Terran Electric is dropping fast, so he’ll scuttle more of his stuff, and we’ll pick it up slowly enough so that we won’t raise the market. How’re we fixed for VE, Preferred?”
“Not too bad. Can we hit him once more?”
“Go ahead,” said Don.
“Kingman,” Walt announced. “Kingman! Hell’s loose! The Interplanetary Bureau of Criminal Investigations has just decided to look into the matter of this stock juggling. They want to know who’s trying to grab control of a public carrier!”
Minutes later, Wes said: “Oh, Brother Myrtle! That did it. He just gave orders to drop the whole thing short!”
“Wait until VE, Preferred, hits a new low and then we’ll buy,” said Don.
The flurry dropped VE, Preferred, to forty-seven, and then the agents of Venus Equilateral stepped forth and offered to buy, at the market, all offered stock.
They did.
Then, as no more stock was offered, Venus Equilateral, Preferred, rose sharply to ninety-four and stabilized at that figure. Terran Electric stock went through a valley, made by Kingman’s sales, and then headed up, made by purchases on Terra, on Mars, and on Venus.
Don said: “Look, fellows, this has gone far enough. We have control again, and a goodly hunk of Terran Electric as well. Enough, I think, to force them to behave like a good little company and stay out of other people’s hair. Let’s all get together and celebrate.”
“Right,” the men echoed.
-
A month later, Joe’s was the scene of a big banquet.
Barney Carroll got up and said: “Ladies and gentlemen, we all know why we’re here and what we’re celebrating. So I won’t have to recount the whole affair. We all think Don Channing is a great guy, and Walt Franks isn’t far behind, if any. I’m pretty likable myself, and my lifelong sparring partner, Jim Baler, is no smelt either. And so on, ad nauseam. But, ladies and gentlemen, Don Channing has a deep, dark, dire, desperate phase of his life, one that will be remembered and cursed; one that will weigh about his neck like a milestone—or is it millstone?—for all of his life. Benefactor though he is, this much you shall know: I still say there is no place in the Inner System for a man who has made this possible. Listen!”
B
arney raised his hand, and an attendant turned on a standard, living-room model radio receiver. It burst into sound immediately.
“… Ladies and gentlemen, the Interplanetary Network now brings to you the Whitewood Nutsies Program. Karven and Norwhal, the Venusian Songbirds; Thalia; and Lillas, in person, coming to you from the jungles of Palanortis, on Venus, by courtesy of the Interplanet Food Company of Battle Creek, Michigan! Ladies and gentlemen, Whitewood Nutsies are GOOD for you—”
Walt Franks said to Christine: “Let’s get out of here.”
Christine inspected Walt carefully, then nodded. “Yep,” she grinned. “Even you sound better than the Interplanetary Network!”
For once, Walt did not argue, having gained his point.
-
Interlude
When the final problem of communicating with a ship in space was solved, the laboratories on Venus Equilateral returned to their original trends. These lines of research and study were wide and varied. Men dabbled brilliantly with insane, complex gadgets that measured the work functions of metals in electron emission and they made conclusive measurements on electrical conductivity under extremes of heat and cold. From the uranium pile that powered Venus Equilateral there came metals that had been under neutron bombardment long enough to have their crystal structure altered in unfathomable ways. These were investigated by men who toyed with them to ascertain whether or not they possessed any new properties that might make them useful. Many were the fields studied, too, because it is often that a chemist may be baffled by a problem that could be solved by a thorough education in electronics, for instance.
And from the diversified studies and researches often come strange byproducts. The quick leap of the physicist from a harebrained theory to a foregone conclusion has been the subject of laughter, but it is no less related than the chain of events that led from an exposed photographic plate to Hiroshima.
Or the chain of events that led Wes Farrell from his observation of a technician cleaning up a current-sputtered knife switch to a minor space war …
-
Firing Line
Mark Kingman was surprised by the tapping on his windowpane. He thought that the window was unreachable from the outside—and then he realized that it was probably someone throwing bits of dirt or small stones. But who would do that when the doorway was free for any bell ringer?
Complete Venus Equilateral (1976) SSC Page 27
