Iceworld

bulk — usable for passengers, cargo, or anything else her owner cared.

The control room contained nothing worthy of comment, except its occupants. One of these was obviously the pilot; he was strapped to his rack in front of the main control panel. The other was floating free in the middle of the room, obviously awaiting Ken’s arrival since he had both eyes on the door. He spoke at once, in a voice recognizable as the one which had invited the scientist forward.

“I was a little hesitant about letting you see any of us personally before having your final acceptance of our offer; but I don’t see that it can do much harm, after all. I scarcely ever visit Sarr nowadays, and the chance of your encountering me if we fail to reach a final agreement is small.”

“Then you are engaged in something illegal?” Ken felt that there could be little harm in mentioning a fact the other’s speech had made so obvious. After all, they would not expect him to be stupid.

“Illegal, yes, if the law be interpreted — strictly. I feel, however, and many agree with me, that if someone finds an inhabited planet, investigates it at his own expense, and opens relations with the inhabitants, that he has a moral right to profit from the fact. That, bluntly, is our situation.”

Ken’s heart sank. It began to look as though he had stumbled on the very sort of petty violation he had feared, and was not going to be very useful to Rade.

“There is certainly some justice in that viewpoint,” he said cautiously. “If that is the case, what can I do for you? I’m certainly no linguist, and know next to nothing of economic theory, if you’re hitting trading difficulties.”

“We are having difficulties, but not in that way. They stem from the fact that the planet in question is so different from Sarr that personal visits are impossible. We have had the greatest difficulty in establishing contact of a sort with even one group of natives — or perhaps a single individual; we can’t tell.”

“Can’t tell? Can’t you send a torpedo down with television apparatus, at least?”

“You’ll see.” The still nameless individual gave a rather unpleasant smile. “At any rate, we have managed to do a little trading with this native or natives, and found that they have something we can use. We get it, as you can well imagine, in trickles and driblets. Basically, your problem is — how do we get more of it? You can try to figure out some way of landing in person if you like, but I know you’re not an engineer. What I thought you could do was get a good enough analysis of the planet’s conditions — atmosphere, temperature, light, and so on — so that we could reproduce them in a more convenient location and grow our own product. That way, we wouldn’t be forced to pay the price the native asks, too.”

“That sounds simple enough. I notice you don’t seem to want me to know what the product is — except that it seems to be of vegetable nature — but that doesn’t bother me. I had a friend in the perfume business once, and the way he tried to keep secrets in elementary chemistry was a scandal. I’m certainly willing to try — but I warn you I’m not the Galaxy’s best chemist by a long shot, and I’ve brought no apparatus with me, since I didn’t know what you wanted me to do. Have you anything here in the ship?”

“Not in the ship. We discovered this place around twenty years ago, and have built a fairly comfortable base on the innermost planet of this system. It keeps the same hemisphere facing the sun all the time, and we’ve been able to concentrate enough sunlight in a small valley to make the temperature quite bearable. There’s a fairly respectable laboratory and shop there, with a very good mechanic named Feth Allmer; and if you find yourself in need of something we don’t have, we can probably afford to get it for you. How does that sound?”

“Very good indeed. I’ll take your job, and do what I can.” Ken was a little happier at this point, partly because the job seemed interesting in itself and partly because of some of the other’s statements. If this product was a plant, as seemed to be the case, there was at least a slight possibility that he was not on a blind run after all. The matter of the need for refrigeration, of course, had not come up specifically — for all that had been said so far, the planet was as likely to be too hot as too cold for comfort; but what he had seen of this system’s sun made that seem doubtful. Then there was the reference to warming the innermost planet — no, the place was cold. Definitely, Chances improved again. He switched his attention from these thoughts, as he realized that his employer — if this were really the head of the concern — was speaking again.

“I was sure you would. You can give orders for anything you need, starting now. You may use this ship as you please, subject only to Ordon Lee’s veto if he considers the vessel in danger.” The pilot was indicated by the wave of a supple tentacle as the name was pronounced. “Incidentally, I am Laj Drai. You are working for me, and I am sure we will both be more comfortable if that fact is borne in mind. What do you think should be done first?”

Ken decided to ignore Drai’s subtle implication of superiority, and answered the question with another.

“Do you have any samples of the atmosphere or soil of this planet?” -

“Of the first, no. We have never been able to keep a sample; probably we did not collect it properly. One cylinder that was collected leaked and burned in our air, for what that may be worth. We do have bits of soil, but they were all exposed to our own air at one time or another, and may have been changed by that. You will have to decide that for yourself. All that I really know is that their atmosphere has a pressure around two thirds of Sarr- normal, and at its base the temperature is low enough to freeze most of the regular gases out of our own air — I believe it would even freeze potassium. Our mechanic claimed that was what happened to one device that failed to work.”

“How about size?”

“Bigger than Sarr — the figures are all at the base on Planet One; it would be easier to look them over there. I don’t pretend to remember any of them at all precisely — as a matter of fact, we don’t have any of them too precisely. You’re the scientist, as far as we are concerned; my people are just eyes and tentacles for you.

“We do have remote-controlled torpedoes, as you suggested. It might be well to tell me before you use them; we lost nineteen of the first twenty to reach the planet’s surface. We planted a permanent transmitter at the point where the twentieth landed, and we always home down on it now. Just what happened to the others we don’t exactly know, though we have a pretty good guess. I’ll tell you the whole story at the same time that you look over the other material. Is there anything you’d care to do before we leave the vicinity of the planet and go over to One?”

“Leave the vicinity? I thought you said that world was not the one in question.” Ken waved a tentacle at the cratered crescent.

“That one isn’t — that’s a satellite of Three, the one we’re interested in.”

A chill came back to Ken’s skin. The satellite had been frightening; the planet itself could be little if any warmer since it must be about the same distance from the sun. An atmosphere would help a little, of course; but still — cold enough to freeze potassium, and lead, and tin! He had not given real thought to that. His imagination was good— perhaps a little too good; and it began conjuring up out of nothing in particular an image of a world chilled to the core. It was rough, and an icy blizzard played over it, and nothing moved in the dim reddish light — a planet of death.

But that couldn’t be right; there were natives. Ken tried to imagine the sort of life that could exist under such hideous conditions, and failed completely. Maybe Laj Drai was wrong about the temperature; after all, he hadn’t been sure. It was just a mechanic’s opinion.

“Let’s see this place, since we’re so close to it. I might as well learn the worst,” he said at this point in his imagining. Laj Drai gestured to the pilot, and the hull of the Karella rotated slowly. The airless satellite slid out of sight, and stars followed it across the field of view. The ship must have spun a full hundred and eighty degrees before Planet Three itself hung in the apparent center of the port. They must be floating directly between planet and satellite, Ken thought. Not wise if the inhabitants had telescopes.

Since the sun was now behind them, the disc of the great world was fully illuminated. Unlike the bare moon, a fuzziness of outline showed that it possessed an extensive atmosphere, though Ken could not imagine what gases might be present. In spite of the definitely reddish sunlight, most of the surface had a decided blue tint. Details were impossible to make out; the atmosphere was extremely hazy. There were definite patches of white, and green, and brown, but there was no way of telling what any of them represented.

And yet, foggy as it was, there was something about the sight of the world which caused the shiver to caress the scientist’s skin once more. Perhaps it was the things he had been told, and the things he had deduced from the appearance of the sun; perhaps it was nothing objective at all. Whatever it was, the very sight of the world made him shudder, and he turned away abruptly.