The flight-time the bomb, under present atmospheric conditions, would be three point five nine eight seconds, plus or minus point zero zero one. His reaction time was point zero
104
eight nine….
‘Storm!’ Joan broke in sharply, ‘Can you hold up a minute.’
‘Sure.’
‘That reaction time. I never spotted that before. Why didn’t I?’
‘I don’t know. Never thought of it. Lumped it in, you know. Separated it now, I suppose, because I’m working so slowly, to give Lulu more of a chance. Why?’
‘Because I’ve got to know all the odd things about you, and that isn’t merely odd; it’s superhuman.”
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Chickladorians average about point zero eight, and Vegians are still faster, about point zero seven. I checked up on that because they always test me three times when I renew my driver’s license and always pull a wise crack about me having a lot of cat blood in me. S’pose I could have?’
‘Um … m … m. Probably not… I don’t know for sure, but I don’t believe that a Tellurian-Vegian cross would be possible; and even if possible, such a hybrid couldn’t very well be fertile. But the more I find out about you, my friend, the more convinced I become that you’re either a mutant or else have some ancestors who were most decidedly not Tellurians. But excuse this interruption, please—go ahead.’
Cloud went. The flight time of the bomb under present atmospheric conditions, would be three point five nine two seconds, plus or minus point zero zero two. His reaction time was point zero eight nine. In three point six eight one seconds the activity of the vortex would match bomb number eleven to within one-tenth of one percent.
His left hand flashed out, number eleven firing stud snapped down. The vessel shuddered as though struck by a trip-hammer as the precisely-weighed charge of propellant heptadetonite went off. The bomb sped truly, in both space and time. There was a detonation that jarred the planet to its core, a flare of light many times brighter than the sun at noon, a shock-wave that wrought havoc for miles.
But the scout cruiser and her occupants were unharmed. Completely intertialess, invulnerable, the vessel rode effortlessly away.
Neal Cloud glanced into his plate; turned his head.
‘Out,’ he said, seemingly unnecessarily. ‘How’d Lulu work, Joan?’
105
‘Better, but not good enough. She was on track all the way, but three point three was the best she could get … and I was sure we had it licked this time … oh, damn!’ The voice broke, ending almost in a wail.
‘Steady, Joan!’ Cloud was surprised at his companion’s funk. ‘Only three tenths of a second to get yet, is all.’
‘Only three tenths—what d’you mean, only?’ the woman snapped. ‘Don’t you know that those three tenths of a second are just about in the same class as the three thousandths of a degree just above zero absolute?’
‘Sure I do, but I know you, too. You’re really blasting, little chum. Both Jane and Katy, you remember, were just as apt to be off track as on. You’ll get it, Joan. As Vesta says, “Tail high
sister
I1″
.SLCl I
‘Thanks, Storm, I needed that. You see, to keep her on track we had to put in more internal memory banks and that slowed her down … we’ll have to dream up some way of getting the information out of those banks faster …’
‘Can you tinker her—what’ll the next version be? Margie?
—up en route, or do you want to keep this ship near Sol while you work on it? Phil tells me I’ve got to flit for Chickladoria— and chop-chop, like quick.’
‘Oh … Thlaskin and Maluleme have been crying in his beer, too, as well as yours?’
‘I guess so, but that wasn’t it. It’s next on the list, an urgent
—they’ve been screaming bloody murder for months. So, with or without a brain, I’ve got to blast off.’
‘Start blasting as soon as you like, just as we are,’ she decided instantly. ‘Much more important, at this stage, to work with you than to have Earth’s resources close by. Besides, I think everything we’re apt to need is already aboard—machine shop, electronics labs, materials, and experts.’
‘QX.’ He gave orders. Then:
‘As for me, I’m going to hit the sack. I’m just about pooped.’
‘I don’t wonder. That kind of stuff takes a lot of doing. ‘Night Storm.’
106
11: Joan the Telepath
The following morning, en route to the planet of the pink humanoids, Cloud was studying a scratch-chart of the First Galaxy. He had been working on the thing for weeks; had placed several hundred crossed circles, each representing a loose atomic vortex. He was scrawling weird-looking symbols and drawing freehand connecting lines when Joan came swishing into the ‘office’.
‘Good morning, Effendi of Esoterica!’ she greeted him gaily. ‘How’s the massive intellect? Firing on all forty barrels, I hope and trust?’
‘Missing on all forty is more like it. Ideas are avoiding me in droves.’ He looked her over amiably, in what he hoped she would think was a casual way.
He’d found himself doing quite a lot of that, lately … but she was such a swell egg! Why hadn’t she ever married? What a waste that was! Face a bit on the strong side for vapid calendar-girl prettiness, but. ..
‘But kind of attractive, at that, in her own gruesome way, eh?’ she finished the thought for him.
‘Huh?’ Cloud gulped, and, for the first time in years, blushed scarlet; flushed to the tips of his ears.
‘I’m sorry, Storm, believe me. I don’t think I was supposed to tell you—in fact, I know very well I wasn’t—but I’ve simply got to. It isn’t fair not to; besides, I’ve thought all along that Lensman Strong was wrong—that we’d go faster and farther if you knew than if you didn’t.’
‘Oh—that’s what Phil was holding out on me back there? I thought there was something fishy, but couldn’t spot it.’
‘I was sure you did. So was Phil. You told me what the Tomingans call telepaths—snoopers? I like that word; it’s so beautifully appropriate. Well, I’m snooping all the time. Not only while we’re working, as you thought, but all the time, especially when you’re relaxed … and off-guard, so to speak. I’ve been doing it ever since I first met you.’
Cloud blushed again. ‘So you knew exactly what I was thinking just then? You gave me a remarkably poor play-back.’
‘The portrait was much too flattering. But we’ll skip that. Part
107
of my job is to make a telepath out of you, so that you can show me with your mind—it can’t be done in words or symbols— what it is that makes a mathematical prodigy tick.’
‘How are you figuring on going about it?”
‘I don’t know—yet.’
‘Phil tried, and so did a couple of Gray Lensmen, and I wasn’t holding back a thing … oh, he emphasized that you’re a self-made telepath. A different angle of approach? How did you operate on yourself?’
‘I don’t know that, either; but I hope to find out through you. I read, and studied, and tried, and all of a sudden—bang! — there it was. But words are useless; I’m coming into your mind. Now watch me closely, concentrate; really concentrate, as hard as you possibly can. Ready? It goes like this … did you get it?’
‘No. I couldn’t follow the details—it seemed like an instantaneous transition. Didn’t you have more to begin with than
I’ve got?’
‘I don’t think so … pretty sure I didn’t. I could receive—I think it’s impossible for anyone to become a telepath who can’t —but I couldn’t send a lick. My psi rating was a flat zero zero zero. Now try it again. Take a good solid grip on a thought and
throw it at me.’
‘QX. I’ll try.’ Cloud’s forehead furrowed, his muscles tensed in effort. ‘Since you already know I’ve been wondering why you never married—why? Standards too high?’
‘You might call it that.’ It was the woman’s turn to blush, but her thought was clear and steady. Cloud was working with her better than he had ever worked with either Luda or Nadine. ‘Since the days of my teen-age crushes on tri-di idols I simply haven’t been able to develop any interest in a man who didn’t have as much of a brain as I have, and the only such I met were either already married or didn’t have anything except a brain—which wouldn’t do, either, of course.’
‘Of course not.’ Cloud felt something stirring inside him that he thought completely dead, and tried, in near-panic fashion, to kill it again. He changed the subject abruptly. ‘No luck—I’m not getting through to you at all. We’d better start all over, at the bottom. What’s the first thing I’ve got to do to learn to be a