Part 2

"I have some practical working knowledge of the stuff," said Sandra. "One can't live and work with McBride and Hammond and the rest without getting a bit of it. Oh, I was only with them for a few weeks at best, but they are ardent teachers. I'll get along with the help of your students."

"You're certain?"

"Not certain--but fairly sure. At best, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

"I think we have misjudged you," said Theodi. "You're fundamentally fine--"

"Thank you," said Sandra, simply. "Convincing you was the hardest job I've ever done, believe me."

"Convincing the Terrans--?"

"Will be the second hardest job. Darn it, we can't use television."

* * * * *

McBride shook his head at Steve Hammond. "Don't believe it," he said.

"You don't."

"No, I don't. Drake has something up her sleeve."

"It's a pretty big sleeve, then," grinned Hammond. "Rigging anything to call from Telfu to Sol is no small potatoes."

"She overloaded everything in sight. That'd about make it right," said McBride. "It went blooey right in the middle of the third sentence--'McBride or Hammond: Telfu in grip of serious epidemic. Need highly charged laboratory to prepare mis-valenced compound for synthetic serum. Danger is imminent, so implore your help for the lives of--' and that's all. Either she's as dramatic as Shakespeare, or this is the real juice."

"And you think it is joy-juice."

"Her past record--and yet we can't afford to pass this up. She should know, though, that if this is the malarkey, she'll be scorned out of the system. Both systems."

"She wrecked the lens--and she's still here," reminded Hammond.

"'Here' is right," said the pilot cheerfully. "In case you birds are wondering about our position, Telfu is right below us by ten million miles."

"Suppose she's got anything left of that set?" asked McBride.

"Imagine so. The thing couldn't have gone to pieces like the Wonderful One Horse Shay. Give a call and see. If Sandra's not kidding, she'll be listening."

"Kidding or not," laughed McBride, "Sandra will be listening."

Hammond turned on the communications set and coughed into the microphone, watching the meters swing. Then, satisfied, he said: "This is the _Haywire Queen_ answering S. D. I. from Telfu. Calling Sandra Drake. If you are listening, break in. This is Hammond of the _Haywire Queen_ listening for a repeat of previous S. D. I." Hammond broke into Telfan and repeated the message.

Then the answer-light winked on the panel and he heard:

"This is Sandra Drake. Is it really you?"

"No," said Hammond. "Just a reasonable facsimile. What's the matter?"

"Oh!" said Sandra. There was a world of feeling in the word. "This has been the longest seven days in my life. It worked, then."

"What worked then?"

"The communications set."

"Obviously. What did you do to it?"

"Not much, personally. I sort of managered it, though. They lent me their best gravitic students and we went to work on the thing. We remade everything in the set--everything that could stand it, that is--about four times their size. That's where I came in. Some things couldn't be increased in size without ruining the tuning, and I knew which ones. Is my output all right?"

"Shaky, but strong enough for service."

"I'm running without an output stage. We used the output stage to drive a super-power stage made of the beefed-up parts and when the works went blooey, it took the Telfan output and my output with it. I'm running off to my own driver stage."

"You've been a busy little girl," said Hammond. "What did you use for power?"

"I talked them into giving me every power plant in the district so that I could call you. It all went in eight minutes flat. The _Lady Luck_ is a mess--again."

"Are you brave or foolish?" asked Hammond.

"Both," answered Sandra. "After all, this is no tea party. There isn't a good generator on the _Lady Luck_; I ruined them all trying to call you. Can you understand how urgent this is?"

"I think so," said Hammond. "How did you wreck the whole shooting-match?"

"I used the gravitic generators to generate local fields and used 'em as communications-band reflectors. Part of it was theory on the part of the Telfans and part of it was ideas given me by your experiments with the super-drive. Anyhow, I'll bet that Soaky is fifty degrees hotter, now, with all the soup we put into the transmitter. That'll make your problem easier--hey?"

"Yup," smiled Hammond. "Just like the guy whose only reason for sending telegrams was that he hated to see the mail-carrier work so hard."

"Well, fifty degrees is one percent of the way, anyway."

"That's right," grinned Hammond. "But look, we're killing valuable time if this is as important as it sounds. What's needed?"'

Sandra explained.

* * * * *

"And you say the silicon won't combine? Shucks, we can do that all right," said John McBride.

"Fine."

"Our problem is delivering the goods."

"Why?"

"Name me a container that will carry the electronic charge."

"Oh? I was thinking--"

"Don't bother," said McBride. "There isn't anything better than ten million miles of pure and absolute space. She'll corona, and then arc, and then she'll assume the normal charge and the stuff will come unstuck again. And you couldn't possibly send every Telfan out into space for a treatment. There aren't enough years in a century to do that."

"First, we'll have to do away with Soaky," said Hammond.

"We can do that," said McBride. "The converted spacecraft are about ready. We can get 'em off in twenty-four hours. But landing this compound is the tricky job. How are we going to do it?"

"Let's assume that we can think of something and get the rest of this yarn. How do you feel, Sandra?"

"Tired, sort of. I've been busy."

"I gather."

"But this slight relaxation is doing me a lot of good. Is the Lady Thani with you? Her sister, Thuni, asked me to ask."

"She and her husband are on Terra. We didn't pass that way. But you may tell Thuni that they are well, happy, and being treated with Terra's best. Our main trouble is shooing away vaudeville agents, flesh merchants, and screwball politicians who either want to tie their wagon on behind or run their wagon up against."

"You'll never get rid of them," said Sandra. "Are they pointing with pride or viewing with alarm?"

"The pointers-with-pride hold a very slight majority."

"That's a fair sign."

"You're right. It is. Luckily, most of the newspapers follow the pointers-with-pride and the general feeling is that way. Most of the malcontents fear that Telfu will have a finger in the division of the universe and they are not going to get as much because of it. They think we should step in and run Telfu, or Telfu may step in and run us."

"We're far enough apart to save 'em the trouble," said Sandra. "But look, fellows, you're running back to Terra--or Sol, anyway. Can you bring me something the next time you come? Please?"

"If possible," said Hammond.

"I need cigarettes, and clothing. I look seedy. I'm frantic for a smoke; I know where you can buy a corpus delectable, dressed in old clothing, for a pack of smokes."

"Willing to sell your body for a mess of potash?"

"Just about. But remember the old one--_Caveat Emptor!_"

"Knowing you--I'll remember," laughed Hammond. "How have you enjoyed your visit?"

"So-so. It's been an experience. A lonely experience, believe me. I've had my troubles, and I've had my triumph. Aside from the complete lack of human companionship, it's been interesting enough."

"You mean male adoration?"

"Might as well admit it," said Sandra. "These birds look upon me as they might view one of those platter-lipped Ubangis. I'm not interesting nor disgustingly repulsive. Here I am, and I'd have been washing floors for a living if it hadn't been for the fact that I do have some experience and knowledge in gravitics. At least, I know where to find the answer."

"Well, take it easy, Sandra, and we'll be back. Look, I'm dropping a message-carrier with a radio spotter in it. It'll carry all of our spare cigarettes. Can't do much about clothing. None of us wear lace undies."

"I'll bear up," answered Sandra with a laugh. "Thanks."

"O.K., then, see you later."

"Right," said Sandra. "So long!" the set died, but before it went completely off, they heard her say to someone in the background: "You can turn the lights on again."

"What did she mean by that?" asked Hammond.

"I'll bet a cooky that they had the entire output of some city diverted into her communications set. After all, what with Soaky's absorption plus the normal power-gravitic communication, they'd do a lot of running on a waterfall plant, or a coal burning plant to make up for what we accomplish with a single machine in Sol. Our power took a beating, as far as we are from it, and we know what kind of power it takes to do anything with the gravitics on Telfu. Well, let's get going. This seems to be the beginning of Our Busy Week."

At Hellsport, on Pluto, twenty-four huge ships were grouped. They looked like the Devil's spawn; their upright ovoid shapes set in the glimmering background of the light that danced from the open-hearth furnaces of Mephisto. In the sky, the reflection glowed, and it was known for hundreds of miles as The Eternal Fire.

But the men that were arriving were too busy to notice the picture it presented. They were too close to that scene, although they had seen the photographs in the _News From Hell_ and _Sharon's Post_, where almost identical pictures filled a whole page in the roto-gravure sections.

They kept arriving, these men who were going to Sirius to set up another Lens. They came from resorts on the Sulphur Sea near Hell and they all asked the reason. They came from Sharon, which lies across the River Styx from Hell, and they asked the same question. The hurried call sought men from their play-spots in the Devil's Mountains and from the vacation wonderlands of the Nergal Canyon. The Great Cave of Loki in the Æsir Plains lost a dozen or so, and Fafnir's Abyss no longer rang to the click of camera shutters as the group left for Hellsport. Vulcan, the frustrated volcano, felt the downward-moving footsteps of the seven who were studying the embryonic crater that was beginning to show signs of life under the heat of Pluto's synthetic sun; the men left eagerly to be on their way to Sirius, but they all prayed that the cold of Pluto's interior would remain cold until they returned.

The Hall of the Mountain King rang to their laughter as they returned to their hotel accommodations near Hellsport, and then again was silent as they went to Hellsport and made the last finishing touches on their equipment.

Just before take-off time, the old familiar cry of "Where's Carlson?" went the rounds until Carlson himself took up the general communicator microphone and called "Here, dammit!" and was informed that it was good because they couldn't start the lens without him. That cooled Carlson off, because it was true and all of them knew it.

Then the two dozen mighty ships lifted in the air above Pluto and headed for Sirius. They joined the _Haywire Queen_ on her way from the Plutonian Lens, and after a few minutes of discussion--all done while accelerating at one hundred and fifty feet per second per second--they fell silent and started on the run to Sirius, nine light-years away.

The trip was made without mishap.

"Now," said McBride, through the general communicator, "in order that we understand, I'm going to repeat the general plan again.

"This is a problem different from the central heating system. We are not going to make a planet livable--_we are going to destroy it_! Honestly, it is but a satellite, but the problem is only made more difficult since it is harder to hit with a stellar beam. But enough of that, we've got the calculations necessary.

"We intend to burn Soaky. Our trick, then, is to set up the maximum possible heat-energy field around or on Soaky. Therefore a lens-system such as the Plutonian Lens is out of the question. Far better is a duplex system. We shall, therefore, send twelve of our ships to a point in space less than thirty million miles from Sirius. This will give us a solid-angle of considerable magnitude--a power intake, if you will--that will extract about all that we can handle.

"The front lens-element will cause the divergent rays from Sirius to become parallel or nearly so. We can't help but lose some.

"Now these parallel rays will hit the second element, which will be set up less than ten million miles from Telfu. That's about as close as we can get without losing our control due to Soaky's field-absorption. And it will focus the entire possible bundle of energy on Soaky. Unless Soaky is utterly impossible, we'll cook his goose. Right?"

The answer came with a laugh. Then someone asked about Soaky.

"Soaky," continued McBride, "is a satellite of Telfu. It is approximately one quarter million miles from the planet, and is invisible from Telfu, being less than a hundred miles in diameter. The Telfans, by means of crude gravitic detectors, have discovered Soaky plotted his orbit pretty well, and so we really have little to do."

Steve Hammond went to the microphone and laughed. "McBride is a master at the art of understatement," he said. "But my contribution to the art of eliminating planets is an anachronism. We have, on the _Haywire Queen_, one of the most useless things in the universe. I shudder to mention it, fellows, but there must be some good place for everything, no matter how useless it may seem. We--and hold your hats--have a rocket ship."

A series of groans and catcalls returned over the communicator, and there was the shrill whistle of someone outrageously murdering "_La Miserere_."

"Yep," continued Hammond, "Skyways, who boast that they can furnish transportation anywhere within reason or realm of operating practice, have furnished the _Pyromaniac_, which, named, appropriately, may operate on or near Soaky. It is a useless bit of machinery for anything else, and once the _Pyromaniac_ has landed on Soaky and planted spotter generators for us to get a precise 'fix' on, the _Pyromaniac_ will be relegated to some museum--if she doesn't get scuttled on the way in."

At this point McBride returned and finished by saying: "We shall set up our lens, and exceeding Archimedes, 'Having a place to stand, we shall burn up a satellite.' So now go on and make the thing cook, fellows. You all have your orders. The _Haywire Queen_ will be a roving factor, feel free to call us for any trouble. We've got our own job cut out for us."

* * * * *

The twenty-four great ships of space, already spread out across the space between Sirius I and Telfu, began to jockey for their selected positions in space. McBride listened to the quick-running patter of the lens-technicians and the astrogators as they juggled their ships into the first semblance of order. Then he turned and nodded to Larry Timkins. Larry shook his head and left, going aloft to the rocket ship.

The loft opened and the _Pyromaniac_ diverged from the opening. Hannigan, the _Haywire Queen's_ regular pilot, snapped the switches briefly and the _Queen_ darted away from the free-running _Pyromaniac_ for several miles. Then the first burst of flame came searing out in a mushroom, which lengthened to a long rapier of white fire. The _Pyromaniac_ moved off ponderously, and the sky was cut into two parts by the river of flame that burned in the rocket's jets. The rapier of flame curved slightly and pointed toward Telfu.

"No worrying about him," said McBride. "We'll know where he is."

"So will the rest of the system. O.K., Jawn, you've got the boys running--now for our problem. How do we make Silicon-acetyldiethyl-sulfanomid?"

"Yeah. How?"

"Well, according to La Drake, their trouble is the lack of stability. We can probably make it under high electronic charge--in fact, that's what she was suggesting."

"What'll it do when we remove the intrinsic charge? Remember the xenon-bromide. It falls apart when we leave the high negative."

"It's more than likely that the stuff will collapse when we neutralize."

"Do you suppose we could get it there before it falls apart?"

"You mean like the guy who used to put the light switch off and get into bed before it got dark?" laughed McBride. "What would happen to our xenon-bromide if we were to get it to zero charge all at once?"

"I don't know, but file that one away for future reference," said Hammond, thoughtfully. "Make up a batch of xenon krypto-neide, or any of that ilk which might be crystalline, and then heave it in an electrostatically charged shell at the enemy. Upon neutralization, what with the hellish electronic charge plus the reversion to gas--probably white-hot from electrical discharges--we'd have an explosive that would really be good."

"Good!" exploded McBride. "Look, my little munitions expert, the neutralizing charge--happening instantaneously--would paralyze everything electronic in nature for seventy miles even in space, and the electronic charge, reaching zero in nothing flat, would cause instantaneous decomposition of the compound. Since it is held together electrically, the decomposition, or _burning_ rate, would propagate at the speed of light, or approaching that velocity. _Whoooo._ Blooey for everything in sight!"

"Funny how the human animal can always dream up a scheme for something lethal out of every invention."

"Yeah--even while they're trying to figure out something to save a planetful of people, they'll invent something deadly. That's one of the things that makes us _us_. But what do we do with the Telfans?"

"Theodi says it is stable once made--do you suppose it would be stable even if made in the forced process?"

"Let's try. Got the stuff?"

"Barrels of it," said McBride. He went to the shelves of bottles and removed the ingredients for Telfu's antibody. He weighed the chemicals, and placed them in a combustion boat. This he placed under a cover-glass and then called for Hannigan to run the intrinsic-charge generator.

* * * * *

As the collectors began to load the ship with electrons, and the various chemical indicators began to change color at various levels of charge, McBride and Hammond set up long-focus microscopes to watch the compound.

The final tube on the indicator panel changed from the mixture of xenon and bromine to a gray-green gas, and then McBride called: "Enough, Hannigan."

"Right, boss," said Hannigan.

"Any action?"

"Not yet. First the atmosphere of pure nothing so the stuff won't try to combine with the aforementioned atmosphere. Then twelve hundred degrees Kelvin, and finally the slow-cooling to form large crystals." McBride opened a valve and the trapped air under the sealed glass whipped out into space. "This stuff is stubborn," he added, turning on the heater. The mixture grayed a bit, and then started to turn cherry red all over at once. Hammond manipulated the color-temperature meter and when the color was right, he motioned and McBride cut the heater, riding the control all the way to room temperature.

"Anything?"

"Won't form."

"Huh?" asked Hammond. "I thought we could form anything."

"We can. But we might not live to tell about it. Some items of unstable planetary systems are easily converted from their normal valence-ratings to others of wide and ridiculous values. We picked xenon for our final indicator because it fits in nice with the negative value we need. But this stuff has valence-inertia beyond that value. According to this stuff here, I'd say that its instability was less than that of the carbon-chains that go into the human body."

Hammond whistled.

"And that means, little brother, that by the time we hit the right negative charge to make this stuff combine, we'll end up with being completely and irreplaceably dead."

"Ugh!" grunted Hammond. "Did we get anything?"

"Can't tell," said McBride. "Darned stuff sets like cement when it cools. Warm up the tensile strength machine and we'll crush it and paw through the wreckage."

He inspected the crushed mass a few minutes later and managed to separate two minute crystalline specks under the microscope. "I don't know whether these are the stuff, Steve," he said, "or whether it is just wishful thinking. Is it better than that four ten-thousands of one percent yield?"

"Not if you can weigh it. We started off with a hundred grams. One percent is one gram; four ten-thousandths of one gram is four hundred micrograms. The balance will swing over on less than ten micrograms. This isn't even that much. No good, Mac."

"Call Theodi and ask about that catalyst-conversion stunt."

"Huh?"

"He intimated that if they could combine the silicon with the catalyst, they'd be able to cause metathesis at better than sixty-one percent efficient. Trick is getting silicon to combine with an already-filled compound."

"They are better at chemistry than we," admitted Hammond. "I'll call."

Apparently the receiver in the _Lady Luck_ was attended constantly, for the sleepy voice of a Telfan answered. He answered that he would get Theodi, and as he was about to shut off the transmitter, another voice came over. It was Thuni.

"Hello, Thuni," said Hammond cheerfully. "How goes it?"

"Bad," said the woman. "But I must go."

"I wouldn't," advised Steve. "Your sister Thani and her husband would like to talk to you."

"Oh," said Thuni in a strained voice. "I'd like to speak, too. But this expenditure of power ... I fear--"

"Nonsense. Thani has been nine light-years away for almost a year. Think, Thuni, the light that started from our star is only one ninth of the distance on the way, and Thani has been there and back."

"I know, but this power--"

"What's power?" laughed Hammond. "We've plenty of power."

"But we have not. Realize that the entire city of Indilee is in darkness because of my desire to speak."

"So what?" asked Hammond. "You have the chance, have you not?"

"But I am not Sandrake, who would think nothing of expending the entire power-availability of a whole city just to talk."

"Sandra is pretty much a human being in spite of her faults," said Hammond. "I'm certain that any of us would have done it, just in the same manner. In fact, I'm not too certain that Drake is inclined to be a little inefficient, not knowing too much about the finer points of operation. _I'd_ probably divert the power output of the whole planet just to be sure I was heard."

"Does nothing stop Terrans?"

"Not for long," laughed Hammond. "And here's Thani. And the operator won't be asking for another thirty thousand dollars after the first three minutes, because there's no operator."

"I fear," started Thuni, and then ceased her worry. She finished: "I'll hold this open until Theodi comes, at least."

"Good. That's learning to use the gifts of the universe to your own comfort and pleasure. See you later, Thuni." To Thani, standing at his side, he said: "Here's your sister. She needs cheering up."

Thani flashed him a smile that might have been enticing in a Terran woman, and then turned to talk to her sister.

* * * * *

"Meanwhile," said McBride, "I've a thought. Not a good one, but a couple of dark ones. We know that silicon is a tough character. It doesn't take to planetary changes with the ease of xenon, for instance. It is way high up on the electronic-stability table."

"That's correct," said Hammond. "But we've been thinking in terms of not trying to add the silicon, but to combine the sulphur to the rest of the compound containing the silicon already."