'In my case, attempted murder,' replied Lawrence. 'In Train's, blackmail and theft. At least, so we are given to understand.'
'Of course,' said the man behind the desk, writing in the information.
'It is my duty as administrator of this asteroid to inform you as well as I may of your functions here and what treatment you may expect.'
He coughed and sat up straighter. 'You may well wonder,' he began pretentiously, 'why you have been sent to this bleak spot to expiate your sin against society.'
'Rebellion against the Syndicate, you mean,' snapped Train harshly.
'Be that as it may,' continued their informant with a shrug, 'this is an officially constituted place of detention under charter and supervision by the Terrestrial League. Certain cases are sent to us for corrective measures associated formerly with World Research Incorporated.
Therefore, it is only proper that they should be assigned to experimental work tending to advance the progress of humanity and raise its cultural level.
'Your work will be a sort of manufacturing process of an extremely delicate nature. However, mechanical controls and checks will make blunders and errors impossible after a short period of instruction. You two men have been technicians of a high order of skill; let us hope that you will redeem yourselves by application to your assigned task.'
He sat back with a smile. 'Now, unless there are any questions—'
'There damn well are,' snapped Lawrence. 'In the first place, is there any communication with the outside world?'
'None whatsoever. Evil influences might convince you that all here is not for the best, and persuade you to foolish acts of violence. We leave nothing to chance.'
Train had had enough; he was going to get this soft-spoken fiend if it were his last living act. With a snarl in his throat he leaped at the desk, only to bring up smashing his face against some invisible barrier.
Amazed, he put his hands over the frozen, quite transparent surface between his tormenter and him.
'Superglass,' said the man quietly, smiling as on a child. 'As I said, we leave nothing to chance.'
'This is your cell,' said the guard—one they had not seen before. He waved them into a spotless chamber, small and square, featuring two comfortable bunks and elaborate sanitary facilities.
Train sat on one of the bunks, dazed. 'I can't understand it,' he burst out suddenly and violently. 'This whole business is rotten with contradictions.'
'What do you mean?' asked Lawrence absently, switching the faucet on and off.
'It's this sort of thing. They stuck us on this asteroid to die, we know.
And yet, look at this room! Perfect for comfort and health. Consider our reception: a very skillful welcome designed to soothe one's ruffled spirit and put him in a cooperative frame of mind. Of course, it didn't happen to work with us, because we have very special rages against the system and all it stands for.'
'It's very simple,' said Lawrence thoughtfully. 'They don't want us on Earth and they do want us here very badly.'
'Simple?' Train snorted. 'I could have been shot down like a dog in Hartly's office two weeks ago, and yet he packed me off here at a terrible expense in salaries, fuel, and wear of the ship. I don't think it was fear of punishment of any kind that stopped him from destroying me then and there. They need me out on this chunk of rock. And I think it has something to do with where the place is, too.'
'How so?'
'Like this. It stands to reason that if you put an asteroid in a tight orbit as near as this to the sun, you need a lot of power—expensive power—
to keep her there. It would be a lot easier and cheaper to put the orbit out somewhere between Jupiter and Neptune, and would be fully as accessible, or inaccessible, all depending on how you look at it. Ships wouldn't have to have sun-armor, which costs plenty, and they wouldn't run the risk of getting caught in an electric twister or prominence.'
'So this place,' said Lawrence slowly, 'is more than a prison.'
'Obviously. Remember the ancient motto: 'If it pays, they'll do it.''
'And if it doesn't, they won't. What was it that smiling gentleman said about congenial occupations commensurate with our training?'
'That's it! They manufacture something here that needs trained men and sunlight in huge quantities.'
'Then why not hire workers? Why run the risk of having convicts responsible for the production of a valuable article or substance? It must be valuable, by the way. Just think of what it cost to get us here, to say nothing of the expense of building and maintaining this setup.'
Train's face went grim. 'I can guess. It must mean that there's a fair chance that the substance is so deadly that the men who manufacture it, even with all suitable and possible guards and shields, must be poisoned by it so that they die at their work after a time.'
'Yes,' said Lawrence, 'you must be right.' There was a long silence, then a guard banged his stick on their door.
'You're going to work,' he called in on them. The door was unlocked; the two walked out as martyrs might.
'This way,' said the guard.
He showed them into a narrow tiled room. 'Begin by sealing those bottles. You'll find torches and materials in your cabinets.' He walked out, closing the door behind him.
Train stared at the row of open flasks that stood on the shelflike so many deadly snakes. 'What are they, Lawrence?' he asked hoarsely.
'I had an idea all along—' whispered the chemist. He took one of the flasks carefully by the neck and spilt some of its contents on a composition-topped table. 'Looks like ordinary table salt, doesn't it?'
'Yes. But it has a smell like nothing on earth I know.'
Lawrence, with the attitude of a scientist who knows and demands that everything should be in its place, opened a standard supply-cabinet and brought out, without looking, an ochre filter and a connected burner. He played the flames on the crystals and squinted through the glass carefully, turning it at sharp and precise angles. Finally he replaced the filter absently and incinerated the little heap of stuff on the table.
'One of the mysteries of the chemical world is solved,' he said. 'That stuff is thalenium chloride.'
'Never heard of it.'
'You're fortunate. It's the filthiest narcotic that ever cursed a race.
Fortunately, only the wealthiest can afford to take it. Seeing the setup required to manufacture it, that's understandable.
'Thalenium's supposed to be a solar element—unstable—made up in the sun's core. They named it after the Muse of Comedy, for some reason or other. I never came across an authentic case of thalenium poisoning, but it's supposed to cause hallucinations viler than anything imaginable to the normal mind. External manifestations are great spasms of laughter—hence, comedy and the comic muse.'
Train stared at the innocent-appearing crystals. 'And we have to handle it?'
'No danger, yet, I suppose, if we are careful.'
Lawrence picked up a flask full of the narcotic with tongs. 'Like this,'
he said, skillfully playing a stream of flame across its tapering spout. He set it down and quickly slipped a cap over the softened glass. 'Then,'
he added, 'you appear to spray it with this stuff.' He squirted a film of heavy liquid on the cap. It set sharply, and letters and figures came out on it.
'Authentic thalenium chloride, c.p., 500 mm,' he read. 'Clever devil, World Research!'
They set to work, moving like machines, sealing the flasks in three sharp operations.
'There's no danger yet,' observed Lawrence. 'I don't know, and can't imagine, what the process of its actual manufacture may be, but we'll find that out later. If the stuff is prepared direct as the chloride, it might be fairly harmless, but if free metallic thalenium is used then there must be hell to pay among the workers.'
'Then there's no point, as yet, in going on strike?'
'Certainly not. Everything's gravy so far. And of course, it's going to be gravy as long as we do our work faithfully, obediently, and not too intelligently. Thus, for example, it pays to make minor mistakes like this one.' He
