Chapter VI: Part 6

And though the man at the telescope knew that his probability of picking up a sight of the _Ariadne_ was as slender as a spider's web, he continued to search the starry heavens. He swept the narrow cone of the heavens wherein the _Ariadne_ was lost according to the mathematical experts, and he looked at every bit of brightness in the field of his telescope as though it might be the missing ship.

The beam-scanners watched their return-plates closely. It was difficult because the receiver gains were set to maximum and every tick of static caused brief flashes of light upon their plates. They would jump at such a flash and hope for it to reappear on the next swipe, for a continuous spot of light would indicate the ship they sought. Then, as the spot did not reappear, they would go on with their beams to cover another infinitesimal portion of the sky. Moving forward across the cone of expectancy bit by bit, they crossed and recrossed until they were growing restive.

Surely the ship must be there!

At the south end landing stage, a group of men were busy stocking a ship. Supplies and necessities were carried aboard, while another group of men tinkered with the electrical equipment. They cleared a big space in the observation dome, and began to install a replica of the equipment used on the station for detection. No matter what kind of output Channing sent back, they would be able to follow it to the bitter end.

They made their installations in duplicate, with one piece of each equipment on opposite sides of the blunt dome. Balancing the inputs of each kind by turning the entire ship would give them an indication of direction.

Franks did not hope that the entire installation could be completed before the signal came, but he was trying to outguess himself by putting some of everything aboard. When and if it came, he would be either completely ready with everything or he at least would have a good start on any one of the number of detectors. If need be, the detecting equipment in the station itself could be removed and used to complete the mobile installation.

Everything was in a complete state of nervous expectancy. Watchers watched, meter readers squinted for the barest wiggle, audio observers listened, trying to filter any kind of man-made note out of the irregular crackle that came in.

And the station announcing equipment was dead quiet, to be used only in case of emergency or to announce the first glimmer of radiation, whether it be material, electrical, kinetic, potential, or wave front.

Long they listened--and then it came.

The station announcing equipment broke forth in a multitude of voices.

"Sound input on radio!"

"Visual indication on scanner plates!"

"Distortion on electrostatic field indicator!"

"Super-electroscopes indicate negative charge!"

"Nothing on the telescope!"

There were mingled cheers and laughter as the speaker system broke away from babel, and each group spoke its piece with no interference. Walt Franks left the ship at the south end and raced to the beam control dome, just as fast as the runway car would take him. He ran into the dome in spacesuit and flipped the helmet back over his shoulder, "What kind of indication?" he yelled.

Men crowded around him, offering him papers and showing figures.

"Gosh," he said, "Don can't have everything going up there."

"He's hit just about everything but the guy squinting through the 'scope."

"What's he doing?" asked Franks of nobody in particular.

Charles Thomas, who had been busy with the electrostatic field indicator said: "I think maybe he's using some sort of electron gun--like the one you tried first off on the meteor destroyer job, remember?"

"Yeah, but that one wouldn't work--unless Don has succeeded in doing something we couldn't do. Look, Chuck, we haven't had time to set up a complete field indicator on the ship--grab yours and give the boys a lift installing it, hey?"

"Sure thing," said Thomas.

"And look, fellows, any indication of direction, velocity, or distance?"

"Look for yourself," said the man on the beam scanner. "The whole plate is shining. We can't get a fix on them this way--they're radiating themselves and that means our scanner-system finder is worthless."

"We can, but it's rough," offered one of the radio men. "It came from an area out beyond Terra--and as for our readings it might have covered a quarter of the sky."

"The field indicator is a short-base finder," explained Thomas. "And no less rough than the radio boys. I'd say it was out beyond Terra by fifty million miles at least."

"Close enough. We'll have to track 'em down like a radio equipped bloodhound. Chuck, come along and run that mechanico-electro-monstrosity of yours. Gene, you can come along and run the radio finder. Oh, yes, you, Jimmy, may continue to squint through that eyepiece of yours--but on the _Relay Girl_. We need a good, first-class squinter, and you should have an opportunity to help."

Jimmy laughed shortly. "The only guy on the station that didn't get an indication was me. Not even a glimmer."

"Channing didn't know we'd be _looking_ for him, or he'd probably light a flare, too. Cheer up, Jimmy, after all this crude, electrical rigmarole is finished, and we gotta get right down to the last millimeter, it's the guy with the eye that polishes up the job. You'll have your turn."

Twenty minutes after the first glimmer of intelligent signal, the _Relay Girl_ lifted from the south end and darted off at an angle, setting her nose roughly in the direction of the signal.

Her holds were filled with spare batteries and a whole dozen replacement cathodes, as well as her own replacements. Her crew was filled to the eyebrows with gravanol, and there must have been a mile of adhesive tape and cotton on their abdomens. At six G she left, and at six G she ran, her crew immobilized but awake because of the gravanol. And though the acceleration was terrific, the tape kept the body from folding of its own weight. When they returned, they would all be in the hospital for a week, but their friends would be with them.

Ten minutes after take-off, the signals ceased.

Walt said: "Keep her running. Don's saving electricity. Tell me when we pick him up again."

Franklen, the pilot, nodded. "We haven't got a good start yet. It'll be touch and go. According to the slipstick boys, they must be clapping it up at between twenty-five hundred and five thousand miles per second to get that far--and coasting free or nearly so. Otherwise they'd have come in. Any suggestions as to course?"

"Sure. Whoop it up at six until we hit about six thousand. Then decelerate to four thousand by using one G. We'll vacillate in velocity between four and five until we get close."

Forty-one hours later, the _Relay Girl_ made turnover and began to decelerate.

* * * * *

Channing said to Captain Johannson: "Better cut the decel to about a quarter G. That'll be enough to keep our heads from bumping the ceiling, and it will last longer. This is going to be a long chase, and cutting down a few MPS at a half G isn't going to make much never-mind. I'll hazard a guess that the boys are on their way right now."

"If you say so," said Johannson. "You're the boss from now on. You know that wild bunch on the station better than I do. For myself, I've always felt that an answer was desirable before we do anything."

"I know Franks and my wife pretty well--about as well as they know me. I've put myself in Walt's place--and I know what Walt would do. So--if Walt didn't think of it, Arden would--I can assume that they are aware of us, have received our signals, and are, therefore, coming along as fast as they can. They'll come zipping out here at from five to seven G to what they think is halfway and then decelerate again to a sane velocity. We won't catch sight of them for sixty or seventy hours, and when we do, they'll be going so fast that it will take another twenty hours' worth of manipulation to match their speed with ours. Meanwhile, I've got the gun timed to shoot our signal. When the going gets critical, I'll cut the power and make it continuous."

"You're pretty sure of your timing?"

"Well, the best they can do as for direction and velocity and distance is a crude guess. They'll place us out here beyond Terra somewhere. They'll calculate the course requirements to get us this far in the time allotted, and come to a crude figure. I'd like to try keying this thing, but I know that keying it won't work worth a hoot at this distance. Each bundle of keyed electrons would act as a separate negative charge that would spread out and close up at this distance. It's tough enough to hope that the electron beam will hold together that far, let alone trying to key intelligence with it. We'll leave well enough alone--and especially if they're trying to get a fix on us; there's nothing worse than trying to fix an intermittent station. Where are we now?"

"We're on the inner fringe of the Asteroid Belt, about thirty million miles north, and heading on a secant course at thirty-four hundred MPS."

"Too bad Jupiter isn't in the neighborhood," said Channing. "We'll be flirting with his orbit by the time they catch us."

"Easily," said Johannson. "In sixty hours, we'll have covered about six hundred and fifty million miles. We'll be nearer the orbit of Saturn, in spite of the secant course."

"Your secant approaches a radius as you get farther out," said Don, absently. "As far as distances go, Titan, here we come!"

Johannson spoke to the doctor. "How're we doing?"

"Pretty well," said Doc. "There's as pretty an assortment of fractured limbs, broken ribs, cracked clavicles, and scars, mars, and abrasions as you ever saw. There are a number dead, worse luck, but we can't do a thing about them. We can hold on for a week as far as food and water goes. Everyone is now interested in the manner of our rescue rather than worrying about it." He turned to Channing. "The words Channing and Venus Equilateral have wonderful healing powers," he said. "They all think your gang are part magician and part sorcerer."

"Why, for goodness' sake?"

"I didn't ask. Once I told 'em you had a scheme to contact the relay station, they were all satisfied that things would happen for the better."

"Anything we can do to help you out?"

"I think not," answered Doc. "What I said before still goes. Your job is to bring aid--and that's the sum total of your job. Every effort must be expended on that and that alone. You've got too many whole people depending on you to spend one second on the hurt. That's my job."

"O.K.," said Channing. "But it's going to be a long wait."

"We can afford it."

"I hope we're not complicating the job of finding us by this quartering deceleration," said Captain Johannson.

"We're not. We're making a sort of vector from our course, but the deviation is very small. As long as the fellows follow our radiation, we'll be found," Channing said with a smile. "The thing that is tough is the fact that all the floors seem to lean over."

"Not much, though."

"They wouldn't lean at all if we were running with the whole set of equipment," said Darlange. "We run a complete turnover without spilling a drop from the swimming pool."

"Or even making the passengers aware of it unless they're looking at the sky."

"Stop worrying about it," said Doc. "I'm the only guy who has to worry about it and as long as the floor is still a floor, I can stand sliding into the corner once in a while."

"We might tinker with the turnover drivers," offered Don. "We can bring 'em down to a place where the velocity-deceleration vectors are perpendicular to the floor upon which we stand while our ship is sluing. We've got a lot of time on our hands, and I, for one, feel a lot happier when I'm doing something."

"It's a thought," said Hadley. "Wanna try it?"

"Let's go."

* * * * *

Thirty hours after the _Relay Girl_ left the station, Walt and Franklen held a council of war, in which Chuck Thomas was the prime factor.

"We've come about two hundred million miles, and our present velocity is something like four thousand miles per second," said Walt. "We're going out toward Mars on a slightly-off radial course, to the north of the ecliptic. That means we're a little over a quarter of a billion miles from Sol, or about to hit the Asteroid Belt. Thinking it over a little, I think we should continue our acceleration for another thirty hours. What say?"

"The field has shown no change in intensity that I can detect," said Thomas. "If they haven't dropped their radiated intensity, that means that we are no closer to them than we were before. Of course, we'd probably have to cut the distance by at least a half before any measurable decrement made itself evident."

"They must be on the upper limit of that four thousand MPS," observed Walt. "There's one thing certain, we'll never catch them by matching their speed."

"Where will another thirty hours at six G put us and how fast?" asked Franklen.

Silence ensued while they scribbled long figures on scratch paper.

"About eight hundred million miles from Sol," announced Walt.

"And about eight thousand MPS," added Chuck.

"That's a little extreme, don't you think?" asked Franklen.

"By about thirty percent," said Walt, scratching his chin. "If we hold to our original idea of hitting it for six thousand, where will we be?"

"That would make it about forty-five hours from take-off, and we'd be about four hundred and sixty million miles from Sol." Chuck grinned widely and said: "By Jove!"

"What?"

"By Jove!"

"'By Jove!' What?"

"That's where we'd be--By Jove!"

"_Phew!_"

"I agree with you," said Franklen to Walt. "Better ignore him."

"Sure will after that. So then we'll be 'By Jove' at six thousand. That would be a swell place to make turnover, I think. At one G decel to about four thousand MPS that'll put us about--um, that'd take us about ninety hours! We'll make that three G at twenty hours, which will put us about three hundred and fifty million miles along, which plus the original four hundred and sixty million adds up to eight hundred and ten million--"

"When an astronaut begins to talk like that," interrupted Arden, "we of the skyways say that he is talking in Congressional figures. The shoe is on the other foot. What on earth are you fellows figuring?"

"Where we'll be and how fast we'll be going at a given instant of particular importance," offered Walt. "When did you wake up?"

"About the third hundred million. All of those ciphers going by made a hollow sound, like a bullet whistling in the wind."

"Well, we're trying to make the theories of probability match with figures. We'll know in about forty-five hours whether we were right or not."

"It's a good thing we have all space to go around in. Are you sure that we have all eternity?"

"Don't get anxious. They're still coming in like a ton of bricks four times per hour, which means that they're riding easy. I don't want to overrun them at about three thousand MPS and have to spend a week decelerating, returning, more decelerating, and then matching velocities."

"I see. You know best. And where is this Asteroid Belt that I've heard so much about?"

"To the south of us by a few million miles. Those bright specks that you can't tell from stars are asteroids. The common conception of the Asteroid Belt being filled to overflowing with a collection of cosmic rubble like the rings of Saturn is a lot of hooey. We'll be past in a little while and we haven't even come close to one. Space is large enough for all of us, I think."

"But not when all of us want the same space."

"I don't care for their area," said Walt with a smile. "Let 'em have it, I don't care. I'll stay up here and let them run as they will."

"You mean the ones that are moving downward?" asked Arden, indicating the sky.

"Those are asteroids, yes. We're to the north, as you may check by going around the ship to the opposite side. You'll see Polaris almost directly opposite, there. Sol is almost directly below us, and that bright one that you can see if you squint almost straight up is Saturn."

"I won't bother crossing the ship to see Polaris. I prefer the Southern Cross, anyway. The thing I'm most interested in is: Are we accomplishing anything?"

"I think that we've spent the last thirty hours just catching up," explained Walt. "Up to right now, we are going backwards, so to speak; we're on even terms now, and will be doing better from here on in."

"It's the waiting that gets me down," said Arden. "Oh, for something to do."

"Let's eat," suggested Walt. "I'm hungry, and now that I think of it, I haven't eaten since we left the station. Arden, you are hereby elected to the post of galley chief. Get Jimmy from the dome if you need help."

"Help? What for?"

"He can help you lift it out of the oven. Don must have a cast-iron stomach."

"That's hearsay, I'll show you! As soon as I find the can opener, breakfast will be served."

"Make mine dinner," said Chuck. "We've been awake all the time."

"O.K., we will have a combined meal, from grapefruit to ice cream. Those who want any or all parts may choose at will. And fellows, please let me know as soon as you get something tangible."

"That's a promise," said Walt. "Take it easy, and don't worry. We'll be catching up with them one of these days."

* * * * *

"Hadley, how much coating have we got on those cathodes?" asked Don Channing.

"Not too much. We had about twenty G hours to begin with. We went to a half G for twenty hours, and now we're running on a quarter G, which would let us go for forty hours more."

"Well, look. If it should come to a choice between floor and signal gun, we'll choose the gun. We've about eight hours left in the cathodes, and since everybody is now used to quarter G we might even slide it down to an eighth G, which would give us about sixteen hours."

"Your gun is still putting out?"

"So far as I can tell. Six hours from now, we should know, I think, predicating my guess on whatever meager information they must have."

"We could save some juice by killing most of the lights in the ship."

"That's a thought. Johannson, have one of your men run around and remove all lights that aren't absolutely necessary. He can kill about three-quarters of them, I'm certain. That'll save us a few kilowatt hours," said Channing. "And another thing. I'm about to drop the power of our electron gun and run it continuously. If the boys are anywhere in the neighborhood, they'll be needing continuous disturbance for direction finding. I'd say in another five hours that we should start continuous radiation."

"You know, Channing, if this thing works out all right, it will be a definite vote for pure, deductive reasoning."

"I know. But the deductive reasoning is not too pure. It isn't guesswork. There are two factors of known quality. One is that I know Walt Franks and the other is that he knows me. The rest is a simple matter of the boys on the station knowing space to the last inch, and applying the theory of probabilities to it. We'll hear from them soon, or I'll miss my guess. Just you wait."

"Yeah," drawled Captain Johannson, "we'll wait!"

* * * * *

Chuck Thomas made another computation and said: "Well, Walt, we've been narrowing them down for quite a long time now. We're getting closer and closer to them, according to the field intensity. I've just got a good idea of direction on that last five minute shot. Have Franklen swivel us around on this course; pretty soon we'll be right in the middle of their shots."

"We're approaching them asymptotically," observed Walt. "I wish I knew what our velocity was with respect to theirs. Something tells me that it would be much simpler if I knew."

"Walt," asked Arden, "how close can you see a spaceship?"

"You mean how far? Well, I don't know that it has ever been tried and recorded. But we can figure it out easy enough by analogy. A period is about thirty-thousandths of an inch in diameter, and visible from a distance of thirty inches. I mean visible with no doubt about its being there. That's a thousand to one. Now, the _Ariadne_ is about six hundred feet tall and about four hundred feet in its major diameter, so we can assume a little more than the four hundred feet--say five hundred feet average of circular area, say--follow me?"

"Go on, you're vague, but normal."

"Then at a thousand to one, that becomes five hundred thousand feet, and dividing by five thousand--round figures because it isn't important enough to use that two hundred and eighty feet over the five thousand--gives us one thousand miles. We should be able to see the _Ariadne_ from a distance of a thousand miles."

"Then at four thousand miles per second we'll be in and through and out of visual range in a half second?"

"Oh, no. They're rambling on a quite similar course at an unknown but high velocity. Our velocity with respect to theirs is what will determine how long they're within visual range."

"Hey, Walt," came the voice of Chuck Thomas. "The intensity of Don's beam has been cut to about one-quarter and is now continuous. Does that mean anything?"

"Might mean trouble for them. Either they're running out of soup and mean for us to hurry up, or they assume we're close enough to obviate the need for high power. We'd better assume they want haste and act accordingly. How're the boys on the radio detectors coming along?"

"Fine. They've taken over the direction finding and claim that we are right on their tail."

"Anything in the sights, Jimmy?"

"Not yet. But the electroscope boys claim that quarter power or not, the input is terrific."

"Take a rest, Jimmy. We won't be there for a while yet. No use burning your eyes out trying to see 'em. There'll be time enough for you to do your share after we get 'em close enough to see with the naked eye. What do the beam-scanners say?"

"Shucks," answered the man on the scanners, "they're still radiating. How are we going to fix 'em on a reflected wave when they're more powerful on their own hook? The whole plate is glaring white. And, incidentally, so is the celestial globe in the meteor spotter. I've had to cut that or we'd never be able to hold this course. Anything like a meteor that comes in our way now will not register, and--"

The _Relay Girl_ lurched sickeningly. All over the ship, things rattled and fell to the floors. Men grabbed at the closest solid object, and then the _Relay Girl_ straightened out once more.

"_Whoosh!_" said Franks. "That was a big one!"

"Big one?" called Jimmy. "That, my friend, was none other than the _Ariadne_!"

"Can you prove that?"

"Sure," chuckled Jimmy. "I saw 'em. I can still see 'em!"

"Franklen, hang on about seven G and follow Jimmy's orders. Chuck, see if you can get anything cogent out of your gadget. Holy Green Fire, with a cubic million million million megaparsecs in which to run, we have to be so good that we run right into our quarry. Who says that radio direction finding is not a precise science? Who says that we couldn't catch--"

"Walt, they're losing fast."

"O.K., Jimmy, can you give me any idea as to their velocity with respect to ours?"

"How long is she?"

"Six hundred feet."

Jimmy was silent for some seconds, "They're out of sight again, but I make it about four to seven hundred miles per second."

"At seven G we should match that seven hundred in about four hours."

"And then go on decelerating so that they'll catch up?"

"No," said Walt. "I used the max figure and we can assume they aren't going that fast, quite. At the end of four hours, we'll turnover and wait until they heave in sight again and then we'll do some more oscillating. We can match their velocity inside of ten hours, or Franklen will get fired."

"If I don't," promised Franklen, "I'll quit. You can't fire me!"

"We should be able to contact them by radio," said Walt.

"We are!" called the radio man. "It's Channing. He says: 'Fancy meeting you here.' Any answer?"

"Just say, 'Dr. Channing, I presume?'"

Channing's voice came out of the ship's announcer system as the radio man made the necessary connections. It said: "Right--but what kept you so long?"

"Our boss was away," replied Walt. "And we can't do a thing without him."

"Some boss. Some crew of wild men. Can't go off on a fishing trip without having my bunch chasing all over the Solar System."

"What's wrong with a little sight-seeing tour? We didn't mean any harm. And speaking of harm, how are you and the rest of that bunch getting along?"

"We're O.K. What do you plan after we finally get close enough together to throw stones across?"

"We've got a whole hold full of spare batteries and a double set of replacement cathodes. There is a shipload of gravanol aboard, too. You'll need that and so will we. By the time we finish this jaunt, we'll have been about as far out as anybody ever gets."

"Yeah--got any precise figures? We've been running on a guess and a hope. I make it about seven hundred million."

"Make it eight and a half. At six G you'll cover another hundred and fifty million miles before you stop. Take it twenty-two hours at six G--and then another twenty-two at six. That should put you right back here but going the other way at the same velocity. But wait, you've been coasting. Mark off that last twenty-two hours and make it like this: You'll be one thousand million miles from Sol when you come to a stop at the end of the first twenty-two hours at six G. That hangs you out beyond the orbit of Saturn by a couple of hundred million. Make it back forty-four hours at six G, turnover and continue. By that time we'll all be in so close that we can make any planet at will--preferably you to Terra and we'll head for Venus Equilateral. You'll come aboard us? No need for you to go with the rest."

"I can have the scooter sent out from Terra," said Channing. "How's Arden?"

"I'm fine, you big runabout. Wait until I get you!"

"Why, Arden, I thought you might be glad to see me."

"Glad to see you?"

"But Arden--"

"Don't you 'But Arden' me, you big gadabout. Glad to see you! Boy, any man that makes me chase him all over the Solar System! You just wait. As soon as I get ahold of you, Don Channing, I'm going to--to bust out and bawl like a kid! Hurry up, willya?"

"I'll be right over," said Don soberly.

And, strangely enough, Don did not deviate.

_Interlude:_

_Six thousand years ago, Sargon of Akkad held court on the plains of Assyria by torchlight. Above his head there shone the myriad of stars, placed there to increase his power and glory._

_But on one of the stars above called Mars, there were people who knew a mighty civilization and a vast world of science. They flew above the thin air of Mars and they hurled power by energy beam across the face of the planet._

_Then they--died. They died, and they left but broken fragments of their once-mighty civilization buried in the shifting, dusty sands of Mars. Long centuries afterwards, man crossed space to find these fragments and wonder._

_How or why they died is a matter of conjecture. It is known that iron is the most stable of all known atomic structures besides helium. It is also known that the surface of Mars has its characteristic reddish hue because of the preponderance of iron compounds there. From the few remaining artifacts, it is known that Mars exceeded the present Terran science, which includes atomic power. The inference is that Mars died completely in the horror of atomic war._

_This is but reasoning. The facts that are of interest include the finding of a gigantic vacuum tube fastened to a shattered steel tower in the sands between Canalopsis and Lincoln Head, Mars._

_The original finders, Martian archeologists Baler and Carroll, were versed enough in electronics to make tests. They discovered many interesting facts about this tube before they sold it to Terran Electric for a monumental sum of money. Their reasons for selling the thing were simple. They preferred digging in the sands of Mars to plunging into the depths of a highly technical manufacturing business, and the money was more than adequate._

_Don Channing's main objection was that Carroll and Baler did not consult Venus Equilateral before they disposed of their find._

_That made it necessary for Venus Equilateral to acquire a tube for their research by dealing with Terran Electric, which in this case was similar to obtaining a ton of uranium ore from Oak Ridge back in the year 1945. Often, of course, the shortest distance home is..._

THE LONG WAY

Don Channing stood back and admired his latest acquisition with all of the fervency of a high school girl inspecting her first party dress. It was so apparent, this affection between man and gadget, that the workmen who were now carrying off the remnants of the packing case did so from the far side of the bench so that they would not come between the Director of Communications and the object of his affection. So intent was Channing to the adoration of the object that he did not hear the door open, nor the click of high heels against the plastic flooring. He was completely unaware of his surroundings until Arden said:

"Don, what on earth is that?"

"Ain't she a beaut," breathed Channing.

"Jilted for a jimcrank," groaned Arden. "Tell me, my quondam husband, what is it?"

"Huh?" asked Don, coming to life once more.

"In plain, unvarnished words of one cylinder, what is that ... that _that_?"

"Oh, you mean the transmission tube?"

"How do you do?" said Arden to the big tube. "Funny looking thing, not like any transmitting tube I've ever seen before."

"Not a transmitting tube," explained Channing. "It is one of those power transmission tubes that Baler and Carroll found on the Martian Desert."

"I presume that is why the etch says: 'Made by Terran Electric, Chicago'?"

Channing laughed. "Not the one found--there was only _one_ found. This is a carbon copy. They are going to revolutionize the transmission of power with them."

"Funny-looking gadget."

"Not so funny. Just alien."

"Know anything about it?"

"Not too much. But I've got Barney Carroll coming out here and a couple of guys from Terran Electric. I'm going to strain myself to keep from tinkering with the thing until they get here."

"Can't you go ahead? It's not like you to wait."

"I know," said Channing. "But the Terran Electric boys have sewed up the rights to this dingus so tight that it is squeaking. Seems to be some objection to working on them in the absence of their men."

"Why?"

"Probably because Terran Electric knows a good thing when they see it. Barney's latest 'gram said that they were very reluctant to lend this tube to us. Legally they couldn't refuse, but they know darned well that we're not going to run power in here from Terra--or anywhere else. They know we want it for experimentation, and they feel that it is their tube and that if any experimentation is going to take place, they're going to do it."

The workmen returned with two smaller cases; one each they placed on benches to either side of the big tube. They knocked the boxes apart and there emerged two smaller editions of the center tube--and even Arden could see that these two were quite like the forward half and the latter half, respectively, of the larger tube.

"Did you buy 'em out?" she asked.

"No," said Don simply. "This merely makes a complete circuit."

"Explain that one, please."

"Sure. This one on the left is the input-terminal tube which they call the power-end. The good old D.C. goes in across these big terminals. It emerges from the big end, here, and bats across in a beam of intangible something-or-other until it gets to the relay tube, where it is once more tossed across to the load-end tube. The power is taken from these terminals on the back end of the load-end tube and is then suitable for running motors, refrigerators, and so on. The total line-loss is slightly more than the old-fashioned transmission line. The cathode-dynode requires replacements about once a year. The advantages over high-tension wires are many; in spite of the slightly-higher line-losses, they are replacing long-lines everywhere.

"When they're properly aligned they will arch right over a mountain of solid iron without attenuation. It takes one tower every hundred and seventy miles, and the only restriction on tower height is that the tube must be above ground by ten to one the distance that could be flashed over under high intensity ultraviolet light."

"That isn't clear to me."

"Well, high tension juice will flash over better under ultraviolet illumination. The tube must be high enough to exceed this distance by ten to one at the operating voltage of the stuff down the line. The boys in the Palanortis Jungles say they're a godsend, since there are a lot of places where the high tension towers would be impossible since the Palanortis Whitewood grows about a thousand feet tall."

"You'd cut a lot of wood to ream a path through from Northern Landing to the power station on the Boiling River," said Arden.

"Yeah," drawled Don, "and towers a couple of hundred miles apart are better than two thousand feet. Yeah, these things are the nuts for getting power shipped across country."

"Couldn't we squirt it out from Terra?" asked Arden. "That would take the curse off of our operating expenses."

"It sure would," agreed Channing heartily. "But think of the trouble in aligning a beam of that distance. I don't know--there's this two hundred miles' restriction, you know. They don't transmit worth a hoot over that distance, and it would be utterly impossible to maintain stations in space a couple of hundred miles apart, even from Venus, from which we maintain a fairly close tolerance. We might try a hooting big one, but the trouble is that misalignment of the things result in terrible effects."

The door opened and Chuck Thomas and Walt Franks entered.

"How's our playthings?" asked Walt.

"Cockeyed looking gadgets," commented Chuck.

"Take a good look at 'em," said Channing. "Might make some working X-ray plates, too. It was a lucky day that these got here before the boys from Terran Electric. I doubt that they'd permit that."

"O.K.," said Chuck, "I'll bring the X-ray up here and make some pix. We'll want working prints; Warren will have to take 'em and hang dimensions on to fit."

"And we," said Channing to Walt Franks, "will go to our respective offices and wait until the Terran Electric representatives get here."

The ship that came with the tubes took off from the landing stage, and as it passed their observation dome, it caught Don's eye. "There goes our project for the week," he said.

"Huh?" asked Walt.

"He's been like that ever since we tracked him down on the _Ariadne_," said Arden.

"I mean the detection of driver radiation," said Channing.

"Project for the week?" asked Walt. "Brother, we've been tinkering with that idea for months, now."

"Well," said Don, "there goes four drivers, all batting out umpty-ump begawatts of something. They can hang a couple of G on a six hundred foot hull for hours and hours. The radiation they emit must be detectable; don't tell me that such power is not."

"The interplanetary companies have been tinkering with drivers for years and years," said Walt. "They have never detected it?"

"Could be, but there are a couple of facts that I'd like to point out. One is that they're not interested in detection. They only want the best in driver efficiency. Another thing is that the radiation from the drivers is sufficient to ionize atmosphere into a dull red glow that persists for several minutes. Next item is the fact that we on Venus Equilateral should be able to invent a detector; we've been tinkering with detectors long enough. Oh, I'll admit that it is secondary-electronics--"

"Huh? That's a new one on me."

"It isn't electronics," said Channing. "It's sub-etheric or something like that. We'll call it subelectronics for lack of anything else. But we should be able to detect it somehow."

"Suppose there is nothing to detect?"

"That smacks of one hundred percent efficiency," laughed Don. "Impossible."

"How about an electric heater?" asked Arden.

"Oh, Lord, Arden, an electric heater is the most ineffic--"

"Is it?" interrupted Arden with a smile. "What happens to radiation when intercepted?"

"Turns to heat, of course."

"That takes care of the radiation output," said Arden. "Now, how about electrical losses?"

"Also heat."

"Then everything that goes into an electric heater emerges as heat," said Arden.

"I get it," laughed Walt. "Efficiency depends on what you hope to get. If what you want is losses, anything that is a total loss is one hundred percent efficient. Set your machine up to waste power and it becomes one hundred percent efficient as long as there is nothing coming from the machine that doesn't count as waste."

"Fine point for arguing," smiled Channing. "But anything that will make atmosphere glow dull red after the passage of a ship will have enough waste to detect. Don't tell me that the red glow enhances the drive."

The door opened again and Chuck Thomas came in with a crew of men. They ignored the three, and started to hang heavy cloth around the walls and ceiling. Chuck watched the installation of the barrier-cloth, and then said: "Beat it--if you want any young Channings!"

Arden, at least, had the grace to blush.

* * * * *

The tall, slender man handed Don an envelope full of credentials. "I'm Wesley Farrell," he said. "Glad to have a chance to work out here with you fellows."

"Glad to have you," said Don. He looked at the other man.

"This is Mark Kingman."

"How do you do?" said Channing. Kingman did not impress Channing as being a person whose presence in a gathering would be demanded with gracious shouts of glee.

"Mr. Kingman is an attorney for Terran Electric," explained Wesley.

Kingman's pedestal was lowered by Channing.

"My purpose," said Kingman, "is to represent my company's interest in the transmission tube."

"In what way?" asked Don.

"Messrs. Baler and Carroll sold their discovery to Terran Electric outright. We have an iron-bound patent on the device and/or any developments of the device. We hold absolute control over the transmission tube, and therefore may dictate all terms on which it is to be used."

"I understand. You know, of course, that our interest in the transmission tube is purely academic."

"I have been told that. We're not too certain that we approve. Our laboratories are capable of any investigation you may desire, and we prefer that such investigations be conducted under our supervision."

"We are not going to encroach on your power rights," explained Channing.

"Naturally," said Kingman in a parsimonious manner. "But should you develop a new use for the device, we shall have to demand that we have complete rights."

"Isn't that a bit high-handed?" asked Don.

"We think not. It is our right."

"You're trained technically?" asked Don.

"Not at all. I am a lawyer, not an engineer. Dr. Farrell will take care of the technical aspects of the device."

"And in looking out for your interests, what will you require?"

"Daily reports from your group. Daily conferences with your legal department. These reports should be prepared prior to the day's work so that I may discuss with the legal department the right of Terran Electric to permit or disapprove the acts."

"You understand that there may be a lot of times when something discovered at ten o'clock may change the entire program by ten oh six?"

"That may be," said Kingman, "but my original statements must be adhered to, otherwise I am authorized to remove the devices from your possession. I will go this far, however; if you discover something that will change your program for the day, I will then call an immediate conference which should hurry your program instead of waiting until the following morning for the decision."

"Thanks," said Channing dryly. "First, may we take X-ray prints of the devices?"

"No. Terran Electric will furnish you with blueprints which we consider suitable." Kingman paused for a moment. "I shall expect the complete program of tomorrow's experiments by five o'clock this evening."

Kingman left, and Wes Farrell smiled uncertainly. "Shall we begin making the list?"

"Might as well," said Channing. "But, how do you lay out a complete experimental program for twelve hours ahead?"

"It's a new one on me, too," said Farrell.

"Well, come on. I'll get Walt Franks, and we'll begin."

"I wonder if it might not be desirable for Kingman to sit in on these program-settings?" said Channing, after a moment of staring at the page before him.

"I suggested that to him. He said 'No.' He prefers his information in writing."

Walt came in on the last words. Channing brought Franks up to date and Walt said: "But why should he want a written program if he's going to disallow certain ideas?"

"Sounds to me like he's perfectly willing to let us suggest certain lines of endeavor; he may decide that they look good enough to have the Terran Electric labs try themselves," said Channing.

Wes Farrell looked uncomfortable.

"I have half a notion to toss him out," Channing told Farrell. "I also have half a notion to make miniatures of this tube and go ahead and work regardless of Kingman or Terran Electric. O.K., Wes, we won't do anything illegal. We'll begin by making our list."

"What is your intention?" asked Wes.

"We hope that these tubes will enable us to detect driver radiation, which will ultimately permit us to open ship-to-ship two-way communication."

"May I ask how you hope to do this?"

"Sure. We're going to cut and try. No one knows a thing about the level of driver-energy; we've selected a name for it: Subelectronics. The driver tube is akin to this transmission tube, if what I've been able to collect on the subject is authentic. By using the transmission tube--"

"Your belief is interesting. I've failed to see any connection between our tube and the driver tube."

"Oh, sure," said Channing expansively. "I'll admit that the similarity is of the same order as the similarity between an incandescent lamp and a ten dynode electron-multiplier such as we use in our final beam stages. But recall this business of the cathode-dynode. In both, the emitting surface is bombarded by electrons from electron guns. They both require changing."

"I know that, but the driver cathode disintegrates at a rate of loss that is terrific compared to the loss of emitting surface in the transmission tube."

"The driver cathode is worth about two hundred G-hours. But remember, there is no input to the driver such as you have in the transmission tube. The power from the driver comes from the disintegration of the cathode surface--there isn't a ten-thousandth of an inch of plating on the inside of the tube to show where it went. But the transmission tube has an input and the tube itself merely transduces this power to some level of radiation for transmission. It is re-transduced again for use. But the thing is this: your tube is the only thing that we know of that will accept sub-electronic energy and use it. If the driver and the transmission tubes are similar in operational spectrum, we may be able to detect driver radiation by some modification."

"That sounds interesting," said Wes. "I'll be darned glad to give you a lift."

"Isn't that beyond your job?" asked Channing.

"Yeah," drawled Farrell, "but could you stand by and watch me work on a beam transmitter?"

"No--"

"Then don't expect me to watch without getting my fingers dirty," said Farrell cheerfully. "Sitting around in a place like this would drive me nuts without something to do."

"O.K., then," smiled Don. "We'll start off by building about a dozen miniatures. We'll make 'em about six inches long--we're not going to handle much power, you know. That's first."

* * * * *

Kingman viewed the list with distaste. "There are a number of items here which I may not allow," he said.

"For instance?" asked Channing with lifted eyebrows.

"One, the manufacture or fabrication of power transmission tubes by anyone except Terran Electric is forbidden. Two, your purpose in wanting to make tubes is not clearly set forth. Three, the circuit in which you intend to use these tubes is unorthodox, and must be clearly and fully drawn and listed."

"Oh, spinach! How can we list and draw a circuit that is still in the embryonic stage?"

"Then clarify it. Until then I shall withhold permission."

"But look, Mr. Kingman, we're going to develop this circuit as we go along."

"You mean that you're going to fumble your way through this investigation?"

"We do not consider a cut-and-try program as fumbling," said Walt Franks.

"I am beginning to believe that your research department has not the ability to reduce your problems to a precise science," said Kingman coldly.

"Name me a precise science," snapped Channing, "or even a precise art!"

"The legal trade is as precise as any. Everything we do is done according to legal precedent."

"I see. And when there is no precedent?"

"Then we all decide upon the proper course, and establish a precedent."

"But I've got to show you a complete circuit before you'll permit me to go ahead?"

"That's not all. Your program must not include reproducing these tubes either in miniature or in full size--or larger. Give me your requirements and I shall request Terran Electric to perform the fabrication."

"Look, Kingman, Venus Equilateral has facilities to build as good a tube as Terran Electric. I might even say better, since our business includes the use, maintenance, and development of radio tubes; your tubes are not too different from ours. Plus the fact that we can whack out six in one day, whilst it will take seventy-three hours to get 'em here after they're built on Terra."

"I'm sorry, but the legal meaning of the patent is clear. Where is your legal department?"

"We have three. One on each of the Inner Planets."

"I'll request you to have a legal representative come to the station so that I may confer with him. One with power of attorney to act for you."

"Sorry," said Channing coldly. "I wouldn't permit any attorney to act without my supervision."

"That's rather a backward attitude," said Kingman. "I shall still insist on conducting my business with one of legal mind."

"O.K. We'll have Peterman come out from Terra. But he'll still be under my supervision."

"As you wish, I may still exert my prerogative and remove the tubes from your possession."

"You may find that hard to do," said Channing.

"That's illegal!"

"Oh, no, it won't be. You may enter the laboratory at any time and remove the tubes. Of course, if you are without technical training you may find it most difficult to disconnect the tubes without getting across a few thousand volts. That might be uncomfortable."

"Are you threatening me?" said Kingman, bristling. His stocky frame didn't take to bristling very well, and he lost considerable prestige in the act.

"Not at all, I'm just issuing a fair warning that the signs that say: 'DANGER! HIGH-VOLTAGE!' are not there for appearance."

"Sounds like a threat to me."

"Have I threatened you? It sounds to me as though I were more than anxious for your welfare. Any threat of which you speak is utterly without grounds, and is a figment of your imagination; based upon distrust of Venus Equilateral, and the personnel of Venus Equilateral Relay Station."

Kingman shut up. He went down the list, marking off items here and there. While he was marking, Channing scribbled a circuit and listed the parts. He handed it over as Kingman finished.

"This is your circuit?" asked the lawyer skeptically.

"Yes."

"I shall have to ask for an explanation of the symbols involved."

"I shall be happy to present you with a book on essential radio technique," offered Channing. "A perusal of which will place you in possession of considerable knowledge. Will that suffice?"

"I believe so. I cannot understand how; being uncertain of your steps a few minutes ago, you are now presenting me with a circuit of your intended experiment."

"The circuit is, of course, merely symbolic. We shall change many of the constants before the day is over--in fact, we may even change the circuit."

"I shall require a notice before each change so that I may pass upon the legal aspects."

"Walt," said Don, "will you accompany me to a transparency experiment on the Ninth Level?"

"Be more than glad to," said Walt. "Let's go!"

* * * * *

They left the office quickly, and started for Joe's. They had not reached the combined liquor vending and restaurant establishment when the communicator called for Channing. It was announcing the arrival of Barney Carroll, so instead of heading for Joe's, they went to the landing stage at the south end of the station to greet the Visitor.

"Barney," said Don, "of all the companies, why did you pick on Terran Electric?"

"Gave us the best deal," said the huge, grinning man.

"Yeah, and they're getting the best of my goat right now."

"Well, Jim and I couldn't handle anything as big as the power transmission set-up. They paid out a large slice of jack for the complete rights. All of us are well paid now. After all, I'm primarily interested in Martian artifacts, you know."

"I wonder if they had lawyers," smiled Walt wryly.

"Probably. And, no doubt, the legals had a lot to do with the fall of the Martian civilization."

"As it will probably get this one so wound up with red tape that progress will be impossible--or impractical."

"Well, Barney, let's take a run up to the lab. We can make paper-talk even if Brother Kingman won't let us set it to soldering iron. There are a lot of things I want to ask you about the tube."

They sat around a drawing table and Channing began to sketch. "What I'd hoped to do is this," he said, drawing a schematic design. "We're not interested in power transmission, but your gadget will do a bit of voltage amplification because of its utter indifference to the power-line problem of impedance matching. We can take a relay tube and put in ten watts, say, across ten thousand ohms. That means the input will be somewhat above three hundred volts. Now, if our output is across a hundred thousand ohms, ten watts will give us one thousand volts. So we can get voltage amplification at the expense of current--which we will not need. Unfortunately, the relay tube as well as the rest of the system will give out with the same kind of power that it is impressed with--so we'll have amplification of driver radiation. Then we'll need a detector. We haven't been able to get one either yet, but this is a start, providing that Terran Electric will permit us to take a deep breath without wanting to pass on it."

"I think you may be able to get amplification," said Barney. "But to do it, you'll have to detect it first."

"Huh?"

"Sure. Before these darned things will work, this in-phase anode must be right on the beam. That means that you'll require a feedback circuit from the final stage to feed the in-phase anodes. Could be done without detection, I suppose."

"Well, for one thing, we're going to get some amplification if we change the primary anode--so. That won't permit the thing to handle any power, but it will isolate the output from the input and permit more amplifications. Follow?"

"Can we try it?"

"As soon as I get Terran Electric's permission."

"Here we go again!" groaned Walt.