Part 3

"Very well, Governor. Then let me issue this final warning: Do not attempt to lift gravs from your present location! And do not attempt to use your ordnance. To do so will be to court instant and terrible death!"

"Why, you--!" spluttered back Steichner's retort.

But Biggs had turned from the audio, pressed a stud activating the hypoes of our ship. A dull growl surged about us as the powerful motors stirred into action.

I stared at him questioningly.

"What are you trying to do, Lanse? Scare Steichner into surrendering?"

"No, Sparks. I meant every word I said. Look at the lake."

* * * * *

I flashed on the visilens, swung it to cover outside. And what I saw there broke a gasp from my lips.

The surface of the lake was alive with tiny, frothy bubbles. The whole lake was seething with motion.

Cap Hanson cried, "Sweet saint, now I understand! You--you've turned that lake into a stew-kettle! You're boilin' 'em alive!"

"No!" I contradicted. "It can't be that. The ships are insulated against the absolute zero of space. Heat and cold mean nothing to them. Electricity! You must be electrocuting them, Biggs--?"

"You're _half_ right," acknowledged my lanky friend. "Not electro_cuting_, though--"

He never finished his sentence. For at that moment there came to us over our still-connected audio the voice of Governor Otto Steichner issuing a command to his men.

"Fleet, prepare for action! Set studs! Battle formation! Set to lift gravs--"

"No!" cried Biggs. "Don't, Steichner! It will mean death to you all!"

"Ready!" rasped the stern voice. "Follow me! _Lift!_"

There sounded the rising tumult of mighty motors thundering into action. Then:

"The fools!" cried Lancelot Biggs pityingly. "The poor doomed fools! Why wouldn't they believe me?"

And my eyes swiveled to the visiplate once more, just in time to see the last act of the little drama. It came with terrible suddenness, devastating completeness. The waters of the churning lake boiled fiercely for a fraction of an instant as a half dozen spaceships jetted simultaneously. Then from the inwards of the lake, as from a gigantic steam-bomb, burst a violent sheet of flame. A coruscating, eye-blinding moment of brilliance ... then another ... and another ... six, all told.

Then--silence. Quietude. And the sad voice of Mr. Biggs saying, "Cut the connection, Chief McMurtrie. Our task is ended...."

I got it, then. I'm slow, but eventually I always straighten things out. I stared at Biggs with a sort of horrible fascination. I said, "So that's it. You didn't try to harm them. You simply _electroplated their ships_!"

"That's it, Sparks," acknowledged Biggs sadly. "And when they attempted to jet from the lake, their blasts backfired against the silver barricade deposited over their ports. Their ships exploded like living bombs!"

* * * * *

Later, as our workmen reversed the polarity of Biggs' gigantic electroplating apparatus to reclaim as much as possible of the silver used in the operation, the commander of the Space Patrol fleet stopped by to offer his congratulations.

"It was a magnificent job, gentlemen," said he. "We commend you on having helped the System in ridding itself of one of its few remaining pestholes. Henceforth, the Irisians will govern themselves in freedom and contentment. Meanwhile, if your Corporation wishes to maintain its property rights on Iris, we shall of course honor your discovery of fuel oil."

He paused, staring at Biggs.

"But how did you know there was fuel oil on Iris, Mr. Biggs? Other geologists had never detected its presence."

Biggs flushed.

"I didn't know," he confessed. "As a matter of fact, I suspect that little oil-well will run itself dry in less than two days. You see, it can be but a tiny pocket, at most. The asteroid _is_ mostly composed of igneous rock formations. My guess is that it comprised the side of a volcanic mountain on the planet of which it was once, ages ago, a part. When the planet exploded, a minute portion of the mountain valley was torn away with this fragment. It was from this ancient peat bog the oil derived.

"I began to guess there might be a vestige of oil when we dug up black slate. That is the invariable residue of submersion. Then, when we found the fossiliferous rocks, I knew we were on the right track. It--it was just luck."

"Well, luck or not," said the space officer heartily, "you certainly grasped every advantage which came your way. We need spacemen like you, Biggs!"

And--there it was again! For the first time in many hours, another reminder of the fate overhanging Biggs. Space needed men like Biggs ... but by virtue of a medical examination, he had been declared unfit for space travel!

The Old Man's face clouded. He said slowly, "There's another delicate problem. If Lance can't stand space travel, what are we goin' to do? Take him home, or leave him here on Iris?"

Biggs said resignedly, "You'd better call Earth and find out, Sparks."

So I contacted H.Q. And when I had asked my question there was a moment of silence. Then the bug-pounder on the other end of the connection said, "Do with Biggs? What do you _want_ to do with him, Donovan? Why, bring him home, of course."

I said, "But if his heart won't stand the trip--"

"Heart? Heart? What's matter with Biggs' heart?"

"Why, the medico reported--"

"Oh, that!" pooh-poohed the Earth operator. "That was a mistake--didn't I tell you? The examiners got mixed up. It seems their orders were to examine _every_ single man aboard the _Saturn_, with no exceptions. And since there were _two_ Biggs on board--"

Biggs, who had been listening to the message come in, jerked like a spitballed schoolmarm.

"_Uncle Prenny!_" he yelled. "They got him mixed up with me. I'm the _First_ Mate and he's the _First_ Vice-president. They probably just entered the report that the 'First Officer' was unfit for space travel! Uncle Prenny's heart has been bad for thirty years!"

I grunted contentedly and cut the connection. "Then all's well," I said, "that ends swell, huh?"

The Old Man, too, grinned happily.

"Right you are, Sparks. From now on our troubles are over. Peace and contentment from now on...."

But with Biggs aboard the _Saturn_, that's a thousand-to-one shot. Any bets?