“That’s what you think. But you aren’t a woman—thanks be! Just wait and see. You know that red-headed copy-cat, Maribel Whitcomb?”
“I’ve heard you mention her—unfavorably.”
“Just wait ’til she sees this, the be-hennaed, be-padded vixen! Her eyes still stick out as though they had stalks, and she’ll die of envy and frustration right there on the floor—she can’t even try to copy this!”
“Check—to even more than the proverbial nineteen decimals. But we’ve got to change, or we’ll be late.”
“Uh-huh, I suppose so.” Dorothy kept on looking backward at the mirror as they walked away. “One thing’s sure, though, Dickie mine. I don’t know about the ‘deafening report’ part, but I certainly am a blinding flash !”
Chapter 20
“THESE JEWELS puzzle me, Dick. What are they?” Crane asked, as the four assembled, waiting for first-meal. He held up his third finger, upon which gleamed the royal jewel of Kondal in its mounting of intensely blue transparent arenak. “I know the name, faidon, but that is about all I seem to know.”
“That’s about all anybody knows. It occurs naturally just as you see it there—deep blue, apparently but not actually transparent, constantly emitting that strong blue light. It cannot be worked, cut, ground, or even scratched. It will not burn or change in any arc Kondalians can generate—and believe you me, that’s saying a mouthful. It doesn’t change in liquid helium. In other words, Mart, it seems to be inert.”
“How about acids?”
“I’ve been wondering about that. And fusion mixtures and such. Osnomians are pretty far back in chemistry. I’m going to get hold of another one and see if I can’t break it down, some way or other. I can’t seem to convince myself that an atomic structure could be that big.”
“No, it would be a trifle oversize for an atom.” Crane turned to the two girls. “How do you like your solitaires?”
“They’re perfectly beautiful, and this Tiffany mounting is exquisite,” Dorothy replied, enthusiastically. “But they’re so awfully big. They’re as big as ten-carat diamonds, I do believe.”
“Just about,” Seaton said, “but at that, they’re the smallest Dunark could find. They’ve been kicking around for years, he says, so small nobody wanted them. They like big ones, you know. Wait until you get back to Washington, Dot. People will think you’re wearing a bottle-stopper until they see it shining in the dark, and then they’ll think it’s a misplaced tail-light. But when the news gets out—wow! Jewelers will be bidding up, a million bucks per jump, for rich old dames who want something nobody else can get. Check?”
“You are right, Dick,” Crane said, thoughtfully. “Since we intend to wear them continuously, jewelers will see them. Any jewel expert will know at a glance that they are new, unique, and fabulously valuable. In fact, they could get us into serious trouble, as fabulous jewels do.”
“Yeah . . . I never thought of that . . . well, how about this? We’ll let it out, casual-like, that they’re as common as mud up here. That we’re wearing them purely for sentiment—that, at least, will be true—and we’re going to bring in a shipload of ’em to sell for everlasting, no-battery-needed, automobile parking lamps. And if our girl friends really do wear their gowns to the President’s Ball, as Dot says they’re going to, that’ll help, too. Nobody—but nobody—would wear thirty-eight pounds of cut stones on a dress if they cost very much per each.”
“That would probably keep anyone from murdering our wives for their rings, at least.”
“Have you read your marriage certificate, Dick?” Margaret asked.
“No. Let’s look at it, Dottie.”
She produced the massive, heavily-jeweled document, and the auburn head and the brown one were very close to each other as they read together the English side of the certificate. Their vows were there, word for word, with their own signatures beneath them, all deeply engraved into the metal. Seaton smiled as he saw the legal form engraved below the signatures, and read aloud:
“I, the head of the church and the commander-in-chief of the armed forces of Kondal, upon the planet Osnome, certify that I have this day, in the city of Kondalek, of said nation and planet, joined in indissoluble bonds of matrimony, Richard Ballinger Seaton, Doctor of Philosophy, and Dorothy Lee Vaneman, Doctor of Music; both of Washington D.C., U.S.A., upon the planet Earth, in strict compliance with the marriage laws, both of Kondal and of the District of Columbia.
“Tarnan, Karbix of Kondal
“Witnesses:
Roban, Emperor of Kondal.
Tural, Empress of Kondal.
Dunark, Crown Prince of Kondal.
Sitar, Crown Princess of Kondal.
Marc C. DuQuesne, Washington, D.C., U.S.A., Earth.”
“That’s some document,” Seaton said. “How’d he know it complies with the marriage laws of the District? I’m wondering if it does. ‘Indissoluble’ and ‘eternity’ are mighty big words for American marriages. Do you think we’d better get married again when we get back?”
Both girls protested vigorously and Crane said, “No, I think not. I intend to register this just as it is and get a court ruling on it. It will undoubtedly prove legal.”
“I’m not too sure about that,” Seaton argued. “Is there any precedent in law that says a man can make a promise that will be binding on his immortal soul for all the rest of eternity?”
“I rather doubt it. I’m sure there will be, however, when our attorneys close the case. You forget, Dick, that The Seaton-Crane Company, Engineers has a very good legal staff.”
“That’s right, I had. I’ll bet they’ll have fun, kicking that one around. I wish that bell would ring.”
“So do I,” Dorothy said. “I just can’t get used to not having any night, and . . .”
“And it’s such a long time between meals,” Seaton put in, “as the two famous governors said about the drinks.”
“How did you know what I was going to say?”
“Husbandly intuition,” he grinned, “aided and abetted by a stomach that is accustomed to only six hours between eats.”
After eating, the men hurried to the Skylark. During the sleeping-period the repellors had been banded on and the guns and instruments, including a full Kondalian radio system, had been installed. Except for the power-bars, she was ready to fly. The Kondalian vessel lacked both power-bars and instruments.
“How’s the copper situation, Dunark?” Seaton asked.
“I don’t know yet, exactly. Crews are out, scouring the city for all the metallic copper they can find, but they won’t find very much. As you know, we don’t use it, as platinum, iridium, silver, and gold are so much better for ordinary use. We’re working full time on the copper plant, but it’ll be a day or so yet before we can produce virgin copper. I’m going to work on our instruments and controls—if you two are temporarily at a loose end, you might help me.”
Both men were glad to be of assistance; Crane was delighted at the chance to learn how to work that very hard and extremely stubborn metal, iridium, from which all the Kondalian instruments were to be made.
On the way to the instrument shop Seaton said to Crane, “But what tickles me most is this arenak; and not only for armor and so forth. I s’pose you’ve noticed your razor?”
“How could I help it?”
“I can’t understand how anything can be that hard, Mart. Forty years on an arenak-dust abrasive machine—diamond-dust won’t touch it—to hone it, and then it’ll shave ten men every day for a thousand years and still have exactly the same edge it started with. That is what I would call a contribution to science.”
Dunark’s extraordinary skill and his even more extraordinary automatic machine tools made the manufacture of his instruments a comparatively short job. While it was going on, the foreman in charge of the scrap-copper drive came in to report. Enough had been found to make two bars, with a few pounds to spare. The bars were in the engines, one in each ship.
“Well done, Kolanix Melnen,” Dunark said, warmly. “I didn’t expect that much.”
“We got every last bit of metallic copper in the whole city,” the foreman said, proudly.
“Fine!” Seaton applauded. “With one bar apiece, we’re ready. Let ’em come.”
“We don’t want them to come here; we want to go there,” Dunark said. “One bar apiece isn’t enough for that.”
“That’s right,” Seaton agreed. “For an invasion in force, no. I’d let you have ours, but two wouldn’t be any better than one.”
“No. Four, at least, and I’m going to have eight. There should be some way of speeding up work on that copper plant, but I haven’t been able to think of any.”
“Speed it up? It’s going at fantastic speed already. On Earth it takes months, not days, to build smelters and refineries.”
“I’ve got half a notion to go over there . . . but . . .”
” ‘But’ is right,” Seaton said. “You’d be more apt to throw the boys off stride than anything else.”