'What does she, I mean it, mean?'
'There is your answer,' Slug-Togath pointed. 'The Lortonoi are fleeing our planet, escaping with the galaxy's most important secret.'
Even as he spoke, there was a rumble from the extinct volcano and a flare of fire and a plume of smoke. But this was no simple eruption, a plain matter of lava and poison gas, but something far more important. With a thunderous roar a great spaceship hurled itself into the air from the mouth of the volcano and sped skyward. Faster and faster it went, shrinking to a tiny dot and then finally vanishing completely.
'They have escaped,' Slug-Togath sighed, and his tentacles went limp. Sally dropped to the floor, and John put her mind shield back on.
'Well, let's not worry too much, gang,' Jerry said, looking for the bright side of the disaster. 'They won't hurt Chuck, not as long as he is of value to them, and we'll go after them and get him back safe and sound, just you wait and see.'
'How will you do that?' Slug-Togath asked.
'Simplicity itself. The old Pleasantville Eagle here is a tough old bird and already has logged a lot of hours in space. We'll fix her up for operation in a vacuum, as well as atmosphere, slap together another cheddite projector and go after him.'
'A really great idea,' John said raising one eyebrow sardonically. 'But just how are you going to go about building this projector?'
'Well. First get some cheddar cheese and put it into. . .' His voice ran down like a tired phonograph record, and he gaped into silence.
'Good thinking, old buddy,' John said, still sardonically. 'All we need is a hunk of cheese to build the projector, a certain kind of cheese. But that cheese is back on Earth, and in order to get to Earth we are going to need a projector that we need the cheese for, or do you read me? In my humble American-German-Russian opinion we are up the creek without a paddle.'
10
AN INSIDE JOB AND A NOBLE CRUSADE
It was one of those moments about which it might have been said that the emotional tenor of those present bordered on the abysmally depressed. It might have been said. It could not have been said because where there is hope, there is life, and Jerry, shocked as he was by this disclosure, still had hope, and he sent his agile mind furiously seeking a solution to this apparently insoluble problem. In the matter of seconds he had it.
'Hold on now,' he said, snapping his fingers loudly. 'I remember something. When we originally left on this trip, we thought we would be away at least a couple of hours, ha-ha, little did we know, and I have memories of Chuck fixing up some sandwiches to take along just in case.'
'What kind of sandwiches?' John entreated in hushed tones.
'That's a mystery. I remember he just went out and made them. But knowing old Chuck, now a mental prisoner of those fiends but still a buddy, I know they were one of two kinds. Either garlic salami or cheddar cheese.'
'I don't see us building a garlicite projector,' John mused. 'But if they were cheese and if they weren't eaten – why, we still have a chance. Let's go look in the galley!'
He led the race through the immense ship and skidded to a halt with the others right behind him at the 747's galley. Sally, whom they had not noticed leave, was standing by the counter licking crumbs from her fingers. Before her on the counter was some crunkled wax paper.
'Stale and pretty lousy,' she complained, and belched delicately. 'But when you consider we have been a week now without food, I guess it wasn't too bad.'
'You ate a sandwich?' Jerry rasped, and she nodded in response. 'You ate the whole thing?' A nod again, then silence until John spoke up in a strangled voice.
'What kind of sandwich?'
'Cheese. What else would be here? My goodness, I don't know how Chuck ever managed to eat so much of it, it really is kind of nasty. Why are you all looking at me that way and closing in slowly? So, I'm sorry. I didn't save any for you. But I was hungry, I mean. . . .'
Her voice ran down under the glare of the circling eyes, and she took a hesitant step backward.
'Come on, fellows.' She smiled falsely. 'One little sandwich can't make that much diffecence.'
'That little sandwich,' John said, speaking for them all,
'contained the only piece of cheddar cheese inside four light-years that could be used to make cheddite, with which we could save the galaxy. Do you realize what you have done?'
'Don't try to pass on the guilt to me,' she snorted and fluffed her hair prettily with one hand. 'It was just some old cheese, and if we don't save the galaxy, then someone else will. Besides, it is late to do anything about it now.'
'No, it's not,' John said coldly, unlocking the medical kit from the wall. 'As a trained surgeon I can see one solution to our problem if we work quickly before the stomach acids. . . .'
'No!' she screamed when she saw the rubber tubing, and she tried to run but was entangled at once by the many tentacles of Slug-Togath, who held her immobile despite her struggles while the two Earthmen unshipped the stomach pump and went to work.
Good taste forbids depicting what follows, but it suffices to say that a few hours later we find the Pleasantville Eagle winging its way toward the secret underground city of the Garnishee with Jerry at the controls under the guidance of Slug-Togath who overflowed the copilot's seat. Everyone was happy, except Sally who, good little sport that she was, was not feeling too sporty this time, but a couple of miniatures of vodka on a very empty stomach had put her to sleep, and she was sleeping comfortably in the lounge. It was at this moment that John popped into the pilot's compartment waving a test tube joyfully.
'All done, guys. The particles of cheese have all been extracted and cleaned and are in this tube. We now have the raw material for a cheddite projector.'
'Raw is the word for it,' Jerry mused. 'How is Sally taking it all now?'
'The booze helped, and she is sacked out. But, my, what she called me before she dozed off. Where does a sweet little small-town girl whose daddy is president of the college get a vocabulary like that?'
'Evil companions, I guess. All those grunts back from Nam with their grass and filthy language, lousing up our campuses. Though I heard a really good one from this guy. It seems. . . .'
'Prepare to land,' Slug-Togath said sharply, turning his body so one of his long-distance eyes could point straight ahead. 'We are almost to the secret entrance.'
'Secret is the word,' Jerry muttered awedly. 'There's nothing down there but sandy desert.'
'Land now and taxi between those two mounds of rock,' was the reply.
He did as instructed, and no sooner had the massive form of the Pleasantville Eagle come to a halt than they felt a sudden dropping motion. The desert here was nothing but a great elevator that lowered them swiftly deep into the ground. As they dropped, they saw the camouflaged roof close over them, and they kept on going down, faster and faster. Finally, they braked to a stop as the immense elevator dropped them into an immense cavern studded with lights above and filled with incomprehensible machinery.
'Ten thousand years ago our forefathers brought forth under this land a refuge for our civilization,' Slug- Togath intoned proudly. 'While the endless war was fought on the surface, down here in the darkness we preserved our cultural heritage. All our resources since that time have been spent in fighting the war, our industry producing only war machines, our mothers producing only warriors. But we have not forgotten. When our warriors become too old and shot up to fight, many of them retire here and work until they die, preserving this vital heritage. Dusting the books, polishing the glass, that kind of thing.'
It was impressive beyond all comprehension. Giant machines of incomprehensible function rose up until they grew dim above. Great wheels, gears, glass envelopes containing incredible devices of unknown operation. And more and more of this, all separated by shelf after shelf of books printed on imperishable sheets of eternium metal.
