slower she drove onward, the bright green star about which she was circling resolving
itself first into a group of bright-green points and finally into widely spaced, tiny green
suns.
Although facing the completely unknown and about to do battle, with their wits certainly,
and with their every weapon possibly, against overwhelming odds, neither man showed
or felt either nervousness or disorganization. Loring was a fatalist. It was DuQuesne’s
party; he was merely the hired help. He would do his best when the time came to do
something; until that time came there was nothing to worry about.
DuQuesne’s, on the other hand, was the repose of conscious power. He had laid his
plans as best he could with the information then at hand. If conditions changed he would
change those plans; otherwise he would drive through with them ruthlessly, as was his
wont. In the meantime he awaited he knew not what, poised, cool, and confident.
Since both men were really expecting the unexpected, neither betrayed surprise when
something that was apparently a man materialized before them in the air of the control
room. His skin was green, as was that of all the inhabitants of the Green System. He
was tall and well-proportioned, according to Earthly standards, except for his head,
which was overlarge and particularly massive above the eyes and backward from the
ears. He was evidently of advanced years, for his face was seamed and wrinkled, .and
both his long, heavy hair and his yard-long, square-cut beard were a snowy white, only
faintly tinged with green.
The Norlaminian projection thickened instantly, with none of the oscillation and “hunting”
which had been so noticeable in the one which had visited Skylark Two a few months
earlier, for at that comparatively short range the fifth-order keyboard handling it could
hold a point, however moving, as accurately as a Terrestrial photographic telescope
holds a star. And in the moment of materialization of his projection the aged Norlaminian
spoke.
“I welcome you to Norlamin, Terrestrials,” he greeted the two marauders with the
untroubled serenity and calm courtesy of his race. “Since you are quite evidently of the
same racial stock as our very good friends the doctors Seaton and Crane, and since you
are traveling in a ship built by the Osnomians, I assume that you speak and understand
the English language which I am employing. I suppose that you are close friends of
Seaton and Crane and that you have come to learn why they have not communicated
with you of late?”
Self-contained as DuQuesne was, this statement almost took his breath away, squaring
almost perfectly as it did with the tale he had so carefully prepared. He did not show his
amazed gratification, however, but spoke as gravely and as courteously as the other had
done:
“We are very glad indeed to see you, sir; particularly since we know neither the name
nor the location of the planet for which we are searching. Your assumptions are correct
in every particular save one . . .”
“You do not know even the name of Norlamin?” the Green scientist interrupted. “How can
that be? Did not Dr. Seaton send the projections of all his party to you upon Earth, and
did he not discuss matters with you?”
“I was about to explain that.” DuQuesne lied instantly, boldly, and convincingly. “We
heard that he had sent a talking, three-dimensional picture of his group to Earth, but after
it had vanished all the real information that any one seemed to have obtained was that
they were here in the Green System somewhere, but not upon Osnome, and that they
had been taught much of science. Mrs. Seaton -did most of the talking, I gather, which
may account for the dearth of pertinent details.
“Neither my friend Loring, here, nor I-I am Stewart Donovan, by the way–saw the
picture, or rather, projection. You assumed that we are Seaton’s close friends. We are
engineers in his company, but we have not the honor of his personal acquaintance. His
scientific knowledge was needed so urgently that it was decided that we should come
out here after him, since the chief of construction had beard nothing from him for so
long.”
“I see.” A shadow passed over the seamed green face. “I am very sorry indeed at what I
have to tell you. We did not report anything of it to Earth because of the panic that would
have ensued. We shall of course send the whole story as soon as we can learn what
actually did take place and can deduce therefrom the probable sequence of events yet to
occur.”
“What’s that-an accident? Something happened to Seaton?” DuQuesne snapped. His
heart leaped in joy and relief, but his face showed only strained anxiety and deep
concern. “He isn’t here now? Surely nothing serious could have happened to him.”
“Alas, young friend, none of us knows yet what really occurred. It is highly probable,
however, that their vessel was destroyed in intergalactic space by forces about which we
have as yet been able to learn nothing; forces directed by some intelligence as yet to us
unknown. There is a possibility that Seaton and his companions escaped in the vessel
you knew as Skylark Two, but so far we have not been able to find them.
“But enough of talking; you are strained and weary and you must rest. As soon as your
vessel was detected the beam was transferred to me-the student Rovol, perhaps the
closest to Seaton of any of my race-so that I could give you this assurance. With your
permission I shall direct upon your controls certain forces which shall so govern your
flight that you shall alight safely upon the grounds of my laboratory in a few minutes more
than twelve hours of your time, without any further attention or effort upon your part.
“Further explanations can wait until we meet in the flesh. Until that time, my friends, do
nothing save rest. Eat and sleep without care or fear, for your flight and your landing
shall be controlled with precision. Farewell!”
The projection vanished instantaneously, and Loring expelled his pent-up breath in an
explosive sigh.
“Whew! But what a break, chief, what a . . .”
He was interrupted by DuQuesne, who spoke calmly and quietly, yet insistently: “Yes, it
is a singularly fortunate circumstance that the Norlaminians detected us and recognized
us; it probably would have required weeks for us to have found their planet unaided.”
DuQuesne’s lightning mind found a way of covering up his companion’s betraying
exclamation and sought some way of warning him that could not be overheard. “Our
visitor was right in saying that we need food and rest badly, but before we eat let us put
on the headsets and bring the record of our flight up to date it will take only a minute or
two.”
“What’s biting you, chief?” thought Loring as soon as the power was on. “We didn’t have
any. . . ”
“Plenty!” DuQuesne interrupted him viciously. “Don’t you realize that they can probably
hear every word we say, and that they can see every move we make, even in the dark?
In fact, they may be able to read thoughts, for all I know; so think straight from now on,
if you never did before! Now let’s finish up this record.”
He then impressed upon a tape the record of everything that had just happened. They
ate. Then they slept soundly the first really untroubled sleep they had enjoyed for weeks.
And at last, exactly as the projection had foretold, the Violet landed without a jar upon
the spacious grounds beside the laboratory of Rovol, the foremost physicist of Norlamin.
When the door of the space ship opened, Rovol in person was standing before it, waiting
to welcome the voyagers and to escort them to his dwelling. But DuQuesne, pretending a
vast impatience, would not be dissuaded from the object of his search merely to satisfy
the Norlaminian amenities of hospitality and courtesy. He poured forth his prepared story
in a breath, concluding with a flat demand that Rovol tell him everything he knew about
Seaton, and that he tell it at once.
“It would take far too long to tell you anything in words,” the ancient scientist replied
placidly. “In the laboratory, however, I can and will inform you fully in a few minutes
concerning everything that has happened.”
Utter stranger himself to deception in any form, as was his whole race, Rovol was easily
and completely deceived by the consummate acting, both physical and mental, of
DuQuesne and Loring. Therefore, as soon as the three had donned the headsets of the
wonderfully efficient Norlaminian educator, Rovol gave to the Terrestrial adventurers
without reserve his every mental image and his every stored fact concerning Seaton and
his supposedly ill-fated last voyage.
Even more clearly than as if he himself had seen them all happen, DuQuesne beheld and
understood Seaton’s visit to Norlamin, the story of the Fenachrone peril, the building of