Danny Dunn and the Voice from Space

by Raymond Abrashkin

  “True,” said Sir Edward. “Oh, once in a while we get a high wind that makes the dish sway a bit too much for accuracy, and then we shut down.”

  He waved at the machine room. “Would you like to step inside?”

  The four young people decided to stay out on the platform.

  Professor Bullfinch put the Zero-maker down, saying, “Danny, keep an eye on this, will you? My arm’s getting tired.”

  Joe leaned on the railing, looking down through the steel grid of the platform to the ground below. “It’s like being in something a kid built with an erector set,” he said. “Say, Meg, how about getting out some of that food you brought along? The fresh air up here is giving me an appetite.”

  “Food?” Meg giggled. She put her basket, down and opened the lid. Like a jack-in-the-box, up popped Mr. Parsley. He shot his lips out in an O, and then grinned at them in a friendly way.

  “I thought it wouldn’t do any harm to bring him along, so I suggested it to Meg,” Irene said. “He spent six months cooped up, and an outing like this is just what he needs.”

  Danny scratched his head. “Sometimes I don’t understand girls,” he complained. “He’s been caged up, he needs an outing, so you bring him along shut up in a basket and keep him in it all this time. How come?”

  “Because he’s so cute!” Irene answered. “And he’s looking out of the basket now, isn’t he? Anybody can understand that.”

  She and Meg bent over Mr. Parsley and began petting him.

  Danny and Joe watched. And suddenly Joe said, “I feel very peculiar.”

  He turned away to lean on the railing again.

  “Look!” he cried. “Everything’s moving!”

  “Not everything,” said Danny. “Just us.” Slowly and noiselessly, the whole telescope was swinging around.

  “They must be changing the adjustment of it,” said Irene.

  All four stared in wonder, clinging to the rail. The monkey was forgotten. They only remembered him when the motion stopped, and Meg, glancing at her basket, said, “Where’s Mr. Parsley?”

  And at the same moment, Danny said, “Never mind that. What’s happened to the Zero-maker?”

  Joe gave a groan. “I hate to say this,” he replied, “but they’re both hanging over your head.”

  CHAPTER 9

  —And Out Comes Trouble

  Danny gazed upward. Mr. Parsley clung to one of the girders with feet and tail, peering down at him with wicked eyes. In his long-fingered hands he held the Zero-maker.

  “Hey!” Danny yelled. “Come down here!”

  That was a mistake. With a startled squeak, the monkey scampered still higher. He came to rest on a steel beam just over the machine room.

  Dr. Badger, drawn by Danny’s outcry, came to the door. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Danny was already halfway up the open stair that led to the top of the structure. Meg and Irene clattered up after him.

  Joe cried, “It’s Mr. Parsley! He’s got the Zero-maker.”

  “Mr. Parsley? Who’s Mr. Parsley?” said Dr. Badger. He strode out on the landing to see what was happening.

  Unfortunately, since he was looking up instead of paying attention to where he was going, he put his foot into Meg’s basket. There was a crunch. With a shout of alarm, Dr. Badger staggered backward, shaking his foot to get the basket off.

  He bumped into Professor Bullfinch, who was just emerging from the machine room. Together they toppled backward. Mr. Pearson, Dr. Miller, and Sir Edward tried to stop them, but in the close quarters of the machine room they only succeeded in getting in each other’s way. For a long moment, the human knot swayed backward and forward. Then the basket on Dr. Badger’s foot caught in a trailing cable. Down they all went, arms and legs flailing. There was a snap and a tinkle as someone’s heel hit a glass dial. A sharp crack announced the breaking of a small chair.

  Above, the children heard the noise. But they were too busy trying to surround Mr. Parsley to pay much attention.

  The framework was easy enough to climb on for an active boy or girl. Unfortunately, it was easier for an active monkey, even one hampered by a metal box. And when Danny got up as far as the roof of the machine room and stood on a beam, it was a long, long way down when he glanced between his feet. He shuddered. Then he began moving toward Mr. Parsley, making friendly noises as he did so. Irene, meanwhile, had gone up the stair to get above the monkey, while Meg, crawling out on another beam, began edging toward the opposite side.

  Mr. Parsley looked from one to the other.

  “Come on, darling,” Meg called. “Come to Meggie.”

  “He feels trapped,” Irene said, nervously. “I know he does.”

  Danny was within a few feet of the monkey. He reached out.

  “If I can just get the Zero-maker,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

  But Mr. Parsley had no intention of giving it up. With a flirt of his tail, he was off again. Up, up, he went, until he was sitting on one of the girders that supported the great saucer itself.

  Meg and Danny, holding their breath, worked their way back to the stair. They ran up to join Irene, who was already at the top, where there was a wide platform. Here, a gigantic spindle jutted out: the axis on which the saucer turned.

  A cradle of beams surrounded it. Mr. Parsley had settled himself comfortably near the saucer and was examining the Zero-maker with interest.

  “Oh, me!” Danny gasped. “If he accidentally turns it on—!”

  “What would happen?” panted Meg.

  “You remember what happened in your kitchen? First, frozen air would start forming. Then, if the thing touched the steel beam he’s sitting on—well, steel is a good conductor of cold. Air would start freezing on the beam. A thick layer of it would be so heavy that it would make the whole thing sag. The cold might warp the steel so that the telescope would be twisted out of shape. Frozen air would drip down and burn anything it touched. As for Mr. Parsley—’ ’

  He shivered. “I don’t want to think about it. We’ve got to grab him, somehow. But if we startle him, he might drop the Zero-maker and it would be ruined. Or it might turn on when it fell—”

  “I know,” said Irene. “The fire department! Maybe if they put up a long ladder—?”

  Joe was pounding up the stair, below them. Irene shouted to him, “Tell Sir Edward to call the firemen!”

  Joe stopped, gulped air, turned around and ran down the stair again, mumbling, “Up, down, up, down.”

  The men had sorted themselves out and picked themselves up. Dr. Badger freed himself from the basket. Sir Edward looked at the smashed dial and the broken chair, and swore. They all ran out on the platform, just in time to receive Joe, who landed among them like a well hurled baseball.

  “Firemen!” he cried.

  Mr. Pearson staggered back from the railing, where his son’s arrival had flung him. “Stand still, can’t you?” he snapped.

  “Fire? Where is it? What fire?” said Dr. Miller.

  Dr. Badger rushed back into the machine room and snatched up a fire extinguisher.

  “No—not fire—firemen,” said Joe.

  Sir Edward understood and made for the telephone. The observatory had its own fire squad, and in moments their truck was racing out on the field.

  On the topmost level, Danny, Irene, and Meg were yearningly watching Mr. Parsley. He had rested the Zero-maker on the girder and was picking at the back of it as if he wanted to take it apart.

  “I’ve got to make him stop fiddling with it,” Danny said.

  The girder on which the monkey sat was no more than a foot wide. It served as one of the braces between two much thicker, curved arms which supported the saucer. A series of handholds ran up one of these arms so that workmen could get to the saucer to make any necessary repairs on it, or to reach the feed. Dan began to c
limb them.

  “What are you going to do?” Irene called. “Oh, Danny, be careful!”

  Danny paused. “I just want to attract his attention,” he said, over his shoulder, “and keep him from turning on the Zero-maker.”

  At that moment, the fire truck came to a halt below the telescope. Sir Edward had hurried down to meet them, and quickly explained what was going on.

  “There’s no chance of our getting to the creature with a ladder,” said one of the firemen. “We haven’t one long enough. I think we’d better try climbing up to get him.”

  Danny had waited, when the firemen arrived, to see what they would do. When he saw them start up the stair, he shouted, “Don’t come up.”

  “Why not?” asked the chief of the squad.

  “You’ll just scare the monkey, and he’ll go higher.”

  “Now, my lad, you come down and leave this to us,” said the chief.

  “Professor!” Danny cried. “Make them stop. If they frighten the monkey and he turns the Zero-maker on, or drops it—”

  “Danny’s right,” said the Professor. “The cryostat can be very dangerous, indeed. It’s even possible it could wreck the telescope.”

  “I’ve got an idea, Professor,” Danny continued. “I’m going to try it. Have the firemen got a net?”

  “Yes,” replied the chief, “we’ve got one. Don’t tell me you’re planning to jump with the beast?”

  Danny looked down through the cage of steel beams to the hard ground, several hundred feet below.

  “I hope not,” he said, through clenched teeth. “But if you can get your net under Mr. Parsley, you may be able to catch the Zero-maker if it falls.”

  He set himself to climb once more. The firemen pulled out their net and ascended to a spot below Mr. Parsley where they could stretch it out. The other men went up the stairs to join Meg and Irene at the top, where they could watch Danny.

  Mr. Parsley, chattering his teeth, watched him too. Danny got to the point where the crossbeam joined the curved arm, and cautiously inched himself up on to the end of the beam. He sat there to catch his breath. Without moving his head, he looked sidelong at Mr. Parsley.

  The monkey patted the Zero-maker. It slid a little way along the beam.

  Biting his lips, Danny carefully reached into his pocket and got out his magnifying glass. Bending over it, he began spinning it between his fingers, letting the light reflect from it. He didn’t know much about monkeys, but he knew that like most animals they were very curious.

  Mr. Parsley was no exception. For a long moment, he watched the boy with the queer, shining thing in his hand. The glass twinkled as it caught the sunlight. Mr. Parsley forgot about the interesting box he had carried away. He jumped carelessly over it. It teetered on the very edge of the beam. From the watchers, a gasp of horror went up. But it did not fall.

  Danny felt Mr. Parsley’s warm furry body beside him. One paw reached out for the magnifying glass. Danny let him take it, wondering whether to grab the monkey or not, and if he did, how he was ever going to climb down again using only one hand.

  He needn’t have worried. Mr. Parsley had had enough mischief for one day. This lovely, glinting, glass thing was much more fascinating than the box had been. He leaped to Danny’s shoulder, curled his tail around the boy’s neck, and made himself comfortable. Danny swung himself over to the handholds and began to descend.

  When he got to the platform, Meg took Mr. Parsley. She had borrowed Mr. Pearson’s handkerchief, which was a large one, and she looped it through the monkey’s collar and held it like a leash. One of the firemen began the climb back to the beam where the Zero-maker still balanced.

  For a moment, no one said anything. Then Dr. Badger, mopping his face, said, “Whew! Thank goodness that’s over.”

  “Thank goodness indeed,” said Sir Edward, tugging angrily at his beard. “The radio-telescope was nearly destroyed.”

  “Well, fortunately, there’s no harm done,” Professor Bullfinch said.

  “No harm? A voltage dial broken, a chair smashed, the whole place disrupted, your cryostat all but ruined and lost—and you yourself have a black eye.”

  “I have?” Professor Bullfinch touched his eye and winced. “Dear me, so I have.”

  “Who was responsible for this?” Sir Edward went on.

  “I’m afraid it’s my monkey, sir,” Meg said, in a very small voice.

  “It was my fault, though,” Irene said. “I told her to bring him along.”

  “But I was to blame for him running off,” said Danny. “If I hadn’t frightened him by yelling at him—”

  “That’s enough!” barked Sir Edward. “You were all involved. I see that you are irresponsible, heedless, and thoughtless. I should have known better than to allow you near the telescope. If we are to work seriously on this project, I forbid you to come within a mile of the observatory. As for that creature—”

  He pointed a finger at Mr. Parsley, wagging it an inch from the monkey’s nose. Mr. Parsley promptly bit him.

  Sir Edward gave a roar of pain. With a purple face, he began hopping up and down.

  Wordlessly, Dr. Miller offered him a handkerchief. Sir Edward snatched it and wrapped it around his bleeding finger.

  “And what’s more,” he snarled, “baseball is a game for idiots!”

  He turned away and clattered down the stair.

  CHAPTER 10

  Danny Grows Desperate

  It would not be absolutely true to say that the next two weeks passed in gloom for Danny and his friends. Of course, they were banished from the observatory, so they had to content themselves with hearing about Project Gnome instead of seeing it in action. But then, as Professor Bullfinch explained, there wasn’t much to see. The Zero-maker was mounted in place so that it would cool the maser, the largest of the telescopes was set to scan certain target stars, and then it was just a matter of waiting patiently, hour after hour, for any unusual signal. The two astronomers, Dr. Badger and Dr. Miller, took turns on watch with the staff of the observatory. Professor Bullfinch visited the place every day. Mr. Pearson went to London after a few days, for he really did have important business to see to in England. And the four young people found more than enough to keep them busy and interested, although their minds were often on what might be happening in that brick building where men were listening eagerly for a whisper to cross millions of miles of space.

  The mothers came back from their excursion, rosy, excited, and loaded with purchases. Then there were trips to be made to many delightful places. They had a picnic on the Malvern Hills, from the highest point of which they could see seven different counties laid out around them, from the flat farmlands of the Severn Valley to the dark, steep mountains of Wales. They visited the ruins of Goodrich Castle and climbed about on its frowning walls and towers. They watched Morris dancers with their bells and staves in the tiny old stone village of Painswick and drank rough, country cider in a pub with a thatched roof that made it look like a man with a fur hat pulled down over his eyes. Meg and Irene became very good friends and sometimes took the local bus together to the nearby city of Worcester to look in the shop windows and have tea in a cozy little cafe. Irene helped Meg feed and care for her animals, and sometimes felt tempted to give up her ambition to be a scientist, in favor of becoming Meg’s partner in a zoo.

  Still, with all the fun of exploring and sightseeing, Danny was never completely happy. He could not keep his mind off the observatory. Yet the days passed, and each evening at dinner, when they all gathered together in the dining room of the Bell, the news was the same: “Nothing today.”

  On the eighth of August, they were all seated as usual around the dining table. It had been raining on and off all day with periods of sunshine, and now the sun was out again, still high in the sky, although it was seven o’clock. Being farther north than at home, they never lost thei
r surprise at how light it remained until quite late: by ten at night the western sky would still be glowing. A sweet, fresh smell came in through the open, unscreened windows.

  “England is certainly a lovely place—when it isn’t raining,” said Mrs. Miller.

  “We can’t complain. We’ve had plenty of fine weather,” said Mr. Pearson, who had returned from his business trip that morning. “Not that those poor fellows—Badger and Miller—have had much chance to enjoy it. They’ve been sticking close to their telescope.”

  “Without much luck, I’m afraid,” sighed Dr. Badger. “It looks as though the project is going to be a failure.”

  “Oh, come, Badge. Not altogether a failure,” Dr. Miller protested. “We’ve learned some interesting things, even if you haven’t received any indication that there’s life somewhere else in the universe.”

  “You can’t be discouraged about that, either,” put in Professor Bullfinch. “You have only sampled a few stars out of millions.”

  Dr. Badger nodded agreement. “I have one more target I want to try,” he said. “A very interesting possibility—61 Cygni. I’ve left it for last since it didn’t seem too good a candidate.”

  “That’s a two-star system, isn’t it?” asked the Professor.

  “Yes, and for that reason many astronomers feel it couldn’t have a planet supporting life.”

  “Why not?” said Joe. “Seems to me two suns would be better than one. You’d have nice warm winters. And there’d be twice as much school vacation because you’d have twice as much summer.”

  “Not quite, Joe,” said Dr. Badger. “The problem is that a planet in a system with two suns might have a changeable orbit, since it would be pulled about by the gravity of both. It might get too hot for life, sometimes, and sometimes, far too cold.”

  “Well, if 61 Cygni is a system with two suns,” said Danny, “what’s the use of trying it?”

  “Because in the first place, the two suns are far enough apart so that a planet might orbit one of them without being troubled by the other. Actually, one of the two stars in 61 Cygni has a slight wiggle in its movement around the other. So we know that there is at least one planet—a very large, heavy one— circling that sun and having some effect on its movement.