By now the mate had recovered his nerve and demonstrated that his wits were back in good order. He suggested: “Maybe we could use the tanks to haul the ship up… somehow.”
Freiburg pondered. “H’m. I rather suspect these tanks were directed and powered from the vehicle we called the ‘HQ.’ As that’s been atomized, the odds seem against the idea. Besides, we’d need cables—and we don’t have any cables.”
“I remember reading in old war books about tank warfare that tanks sometimes got bogged in mud-holes,” said George. “And that they carried cables and winches for getting themselves out. It could be worth taking a close look at those things…”
They found that each tank had a cable locker at the rear, containing some fifty metres of oiled steel cable—thick, tough stuff.
“It’s like an answer to a prayer,” said Freiburg. “We can join the cables together. Then if—
George said: “You know, I’ve been wondering about those driving seats. Seems to me they point to the fact that the tanks weren’t always remotely controlled. Maybe they don’t always have to be, even now. There could be alternative provision for manual control. That panel facing the seat certainly has manual switches on it. I’m going to try everything. Keep clear of the treads.”
He climbed into the nearest tank.
None of the switches or levers was marked, and he began a game of trial and error with them. He hit the forward movement lever at the second try. The engine burst into life and the tank jolted and ground forward. It went quite a way before he discovered how to stop it. He experimented some more, and found the controls simple to use once he’d mentally labelled them. The TV screen provided a sharp view of his surroundings. Twenty minutes later, he was giving Freiburg driving lessons. The skipper mastered the tank almost as quickly, brought it to a halt, then sat thoughtfully regarding the image of the fallen space-ship on the TV screen. He said, presently: “We’ve a fortnight’s work to do on those fins. Even if the triangle gang doesn’t attack us again, and we’re left in peace to finish it, there’s always the danger these tanks may take it into their heads to wander back wherever they came from— before we have a chance to use ’em. Wonder if there’s any way of switching off the remote controls?”
“We can try,” said George.
They experimented, and found eventually that if one of the antennae was removed, the tank’s engine stopped and all its instruments went dead. George said: “Well, there you are, you can do it that way. But it also means the manual controls become useless, because you aren’t getting any power. So, while you’re actually using the tanks, you’ll just have to accept that they may be taken over by remote control at any moment.”
“Fine if that happened just as we were raising the ship,” said Freiburg. “It could cause a first-class catastrophe. Look, George, I want you to try to contact the white circle General Headquarters, whoever and wherever they are. I know you’re itching to scout around in your helicopter and see more of Venus. So you might as well make it a definite mission.”
“I’d like to, Skip. What do I tell ’em, provided they haven’t scalped me first?”
“Tell them we appreciate the way they’ve defended us, and we hope they’ll continue to act that way. That we come in peace. Ask ’em if they mind our borrowing their tanks just for a while to set up the ship. Tell ’em we’d be grateful for any help they could offer in effecting our repairs—maybe they’ve got mobile workshops. And tell them how enormously impressed we are by the magnificent action of their comrades in sacrificing themselves to save us.”
“Sure, Skip, I’ll do that. I didn’t aim to quit Venus without meeting the Venusians or having a wider look at the place. Let’s unload the ’copter now.”
It was easy to do that. The helicopter had been very carefully packed in sections, and was undamaged. Normally, it would be lowered piece by piece from the hatch near the ship’s nose. But now that hatch was almost at ground- level, and it was like unloading from a railroad box-car. The Earthmen assembled the helicopter and adjusted the variable pitch vanes to cope with the denser air. The trail flight was wobbly, but a further adjustment got the pitch right. George circled the area widely and saw no signs of any other tanks, friendly or enemy.
Meantime, the others packed his concentrated food rations, and tested the Teleo components.
The Teleo had helped to make Earth One World with one tongue. It looked simple but wasn’t. There was a lightweight skull cap connected by twin cable to a small box fixed on a belt. The solitary control: a push-pull switch. Two or more people could communicate via the Teleo, even if they spoke different languages. A thought, in essence, was a measurable electrical discharge from the brain cells. The Teleo precisely measured that discharge and transmitted it on a short-wave. Or it could receive such an impulse; it was a two-way radio. The discharge was reproduced in the receiver’s brain, became a thought which was interpreted in the recipient’s language. Only the frontal lobes, concerned with deliberately conscious thoughts, were affected by the cap. Subconscious or unconscious thoughts remained screened. If a sender had difficulty in controlling or clarifying his thoughts, he merely switched off until he was good and ready to communicate. The effective range of the Teleo was but three metres, and this had both advantages and disadvantages.
George decided to take six sets, packed in a satchel. He said; “If I do meet up with the Venusians, I hope they’ve got heads to fit these things on.”
He checked his supplies, then shook hands with the others, and said goodbye. Freiburg warned: “Keep away from
