'The natives around the colonies, too?'
'Same deal.'
'But they've seen rocket ships, some of 'em, anyhow. Where do they think we come from? They must know we haven't been here always.'
'Sure they know that-but the ones at South Pole think we came originally from North Pole and the ones around:
P.R.S. ASTARTE
North Pole are sure we came from South Pole-and it's no use trying to tell them anything different.'
The difficulty was not one-sided. Th'wing was continually using words and concepts which Matt could not understand and which could not be straightened out even with Oscar's help. He began to get hazily the idea that Th'wing was the sophisticated one and that he, Matt, was the ignorant outlander. 'Sometimes I think,' he told Tex, 'that Th'wing thinks that I am an idiot studying hard to become a moron-but flunking the course.'
'Well, don't let it throw you, kid. You'll be a moron, yet, if you just keep trying.'
On the morning fifteen Venus days after their arrival the mother of the city sent for them and had them taken to the site of the jeep. They stood on the same bank where they had climbed ashore from the sinking ship, but the scene had changed. A great hole stretched out at their feet; in it the jeep lay, three-quarters exposed. A swarm of Venerians crawled over it and around it like workmen in a dockyard.
The amphibians had begun by adding something to the thin yellow mud of the sinkhole. Oscar had tried to get the formula for the additive, but even his command of the language was useless-the words were strange. Whatever it was, the effect was to turn the almost-liquid mud into a thick gel which became more and more stiff the longer it was exposed to air. The little folk had carved it away from the top as fast as it consolidated;, the jeep was now surrounded by the sheer walls of a caisson-like pit. A ramp led up on the shoreward side and a stream of the apparently tireless little creatures trotted up it, bearing more jelled blocks of mud.
The cadets had climbed down into the pit to watch, talking in high spirits about the prospects of putting the jeep back into commission and jetting out
again, until the Venerian in charge of the work had urged them emphatically to go up out of the pit and stay out of the way. They joined the city mother and waited.
'Ask her how she expects to get it up out of there, Oz,' Tex suggested. Oscar did so.
'Tell thy impatient daughter to chase her fish and I will chase mine.'
'No need for her to be rude about it,' Tex complained. 'What did she say?' inquired the mother-of-many.
' 'She' thanks thee for the lesson,' Oscar prevaricated. The Little People worked rapidly. It was evident that the ship would be entirely free before the day was far advanced-and clean as well; the outside shone now and a steady procession of them had been pouring in and out of the door of the ship, bearing cakes of jellied mud. In the last hour the routine had changed; the little workers came out bearing distended bladders. The clean-up squad was J at work. f
Oscar watched them approvingly. 'I told you they would 3 lick it clean.' :'
Matt looked thoughtful. 'I'm worried, Oz, about the possibility that they will mess with something on the control board and get into trouble.'
'Why? The leads are all sealed away. They can't hurt anything. You locked the board when you left it, didn't you?'
'Yes, of course.''
'Anyhow, they can't fire the jet when she's in that attitude even if you hadn't.'
'That's true. Still, I'm worried.'
'Well, let's take a look, then. I want to talk to the fore- '. man in any case. I've got an idea.'
'What idea?' asked Tex.
'Maybe they can get her upright in the pit. It seems to me we could take off from there and never have to drag j her out. Might save several days.' They went down the| ramp and located the Venerian in charge, then Matt and 1 Tex went inside the ship while Oscar stayed to talk over his idea.
It was hard to believe that the pilot room had lately; been choked with filthy, yellow mud. A few amphibians'
were still working in the after end of the room; elsewhere the compartment was clean.
Matt climbed to the pilot's seat and started inspecting. He noticed first that the sponge-rubber eyeguards for the infrared viewer were missing. This was not important, but he wondered what had happened to them-did the little folk have the vice of souvenir snitching? He filed away the suspicion, and attempted a dry run on the controls, without firing the jet.
Nothing operated-nothing at all.
He looked the board over more carefully. To a casual inspection it was clean, bright, in perfect order, but he now perceived many little pits and specks. He dug at one with a fingernail, something came away. He worked at
it a bit more and produced a tiny hole into the interior of the control board. It gave him a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach. 'Say, Tex-come here a minute. I've got something.'
'You think you've got something,' Tex answered in muffled tones. 'Wait till you've seen this.'
He found Tex with a wrench in his hand and a cover plate off the gyro compartment. 'After what happened to the Gary I decided to check this first. Did you ever see such a mess?' ~~
The mud had gotten in. The gyros, although shut down, were of course still spinning when the ship had gone into the sink-hole and normally would have coasted for days; they should still have been spinning when Tex removed the cover. Instead they had ground to a stop against the mud- burned to a stop.
'We had better call Oscar,' Matt said dully.
With Oscar's help they surveyed the mess. Every instrument, every piece of electronic equipment had been invaded. Non-metallic materials were missing completely; thin metal sheets such as instrument cases were riddled with pinholes. 'I can't understand what did it,' Oscar protested, almost in tears.
Matt asked the Venerian in charge of the work. She did not understand him at first; he pointed out the pinholes, whereupon she- took a lump of the jelled mud and mash it flat. With a slender finger she carefully separated o what seemed to be a piece of white string, a couple inches long. 'This is the source of thy troubles.'
'Know what it is, Oz?'
'Some sort of worm. I don't recognize it. But I wouldn’t t expect to; the Polar Regions are nothing like this, thank goodness.' '
'I suppose we might as well call off the working party.
'Let's don't jump the gun. There might be some way to salvage the mess. We've got to.'
'Not a chance. The gyros alone are enough. You can't raise ship in a wingless job without gyros. It's impossible.'
'Maybe we could clean them up and get them to working.'
'Maybe you could-I can't. The mud got to the bearings,
Oz.'
Jensen agreed regretfully. The gyros, the finest precision equipment in a ship, were no better than their bearings. Even an instrument maker in a properly equipped shop would have thrown up his hands at gyros abused as these had been.
'We've at least got to salvage some electronic equipment and jury-rig some sort .of a sending set. We've got to get a. message through.' |
'You've seen it. What do you think?' I
'Well-we'll pick out the stuff that seems in the best shape| and take it back with us. They'll help us with the stuff.'
'What sort of shape will it be in after an hour or so in the water? No, Oz, the thing to do is to lock up the door, once the last of the filth is out and come back and work here.'
'Okay, well do that.' Oscar called to Tex, who was still snooping around. He arrived swearing.
'What now, Tex?' Oscar asked wearily.
'I thought maybe we could at least take some civilized food back with us, but those confounded worms bored into the cans. Every ration in the ship is spoiled.'
'Is that all?'
