to the elevation of the caves but for a susceptibility to a quickly fatal form of pneumonia which made it necessary to keep them from exposing themselves to the cold or to any sudden changes of temperature. Their intelligence was surprising and they seemed to be partially receptive to human thoughts, as Bill Humbolt had written. By the end of the fifteenth year their training had reached such a stage of perfection that a mocker would transmit or not transmit with only the unspoken thought of its master to tell it which it should be. In addition, they would transmit the message to whichever mocker their master’s thought directed. Presumably all mockers received the message but only the mocker to whom it was addressed would repeat it aloud. They had their method of communication. They had their automatic crossbows for quick, close fighting, and their long-range longbows. They were fully adapted to the 1.5 gravity and their reflexes were almost like those of prowlers—Ragnarok had long ago separated the quick from the dead.
There were eight hundred and nineteen of them that year, in the early spring of one hundred and fifty, and they were ready and impatient for the coming of the Gerns. Then the transmitter, which had been in operation again for many years, failed one day. George Craig had finished checking it when Lake arrived. He looked up from his instruments, remarkably similar in appearance to a sketch of the old George Ord—a resemblance that had been passed down to him by his mother—and said:
“The entire circuit is either gone or ready to go. It’s already operated for a lot longer than it should have.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lake said. “It’s served its purpose. We won’t rebuild it.”
George watched him questioningly.
“It’s served its purpose,” he said again. “It didn’t let us forget that the Gerns will come again. But that isn’t enough, now. The first signal won’t reach Athena until the year two thirty-five. It will be the dead of Big Winter again then. They’ll have to fight the Gerns with bows and arrows that the cold will make as brittle as glass. They won’t have a chance.”
“No,” George said. “They won’t have a chance. But what can we do to change it?”
“It’s something I’ve been thinking about,” he said. “We’ll build a hyperspace transmitter and bring the Gerns before Big Winter comes.”
“We will?” George asked, lifting his dark eyebrows. “And what do we use for the three hundred pounds of copper and five hundred pounds of iron we would have to have to make the generator?”
“Surely we can find five hundred pounds of iron somewhere on Ragnarok. The north end of the plateau might be the best bet. As for the copper—I doubt that we’ll ever find it. But there are seams of a bauxite- like clay in the Western Hills—they’re certain to contain aluminum to at least some extent. So we’ll make the wires of aluminum.”
“The ore would have to be refined to pure aluminum oxide before it could be smelted,”
George said. “And you can’t smelt aluminum ore in an ordinary furnace—only in an electric furnace with a generator that can supply a high amperage. And we would have to have cryolite ore to serve as the solvent in the smelting process.”
“There’s a seam of cryolite in the Eastern Hills, according to the old maps,” said Lake. “We could make a larger generator by melting down everything we have. It wouldn’t be big enough to power the hyperspace transmitter but it should be big enough to smelt aluminum ore.”
George considered the idea. “I think we can do it.”
“How long until we can send the signal?” he asked.
“Given the extra metal we need, the building of the generator is a simple job. The transmitter is what will take years—maybe as long as fifty.”
“Can’t anything be done to make it sooner?” he asked.
“I know,” George said. “You would like for the Gerns to come while you’re still here. So would every man on Ragnarok. But even on Earth the building of a hyperspace transmitter was a long, slow job, with all the materials they needed and all the special tools and equipment. Here we’ll have to do everything by hand and for materials we have only broken and burned-out odds and ends. It will take about fifty years—it can’t be helped.”
Fifty years … but that would bring the Gerns before Big Winter came again. And there was the rapidly increasing chance that a Gern cruiser would at any day intercept the first signals. They were already more than halfway to Athena.
“Melt down the generator,” he said. “Start making a bigger one. Tomorrow men will go out after bauxite and cryolite and four of us will go up the plateau to look for iron.”
*
