Trouble on Titan/Chapter VIII

ONE of the Titanians stepped forward with a graceful waving of hands, a low bow. "Mradna luaow," he said politely.

Tommy grinned, also bowing ludicrously.

"You don't say! Republican or Democrat?"

The Titanian smiled unmistakably, bowing more rapidly than a Japanese diplomat. Pointing to Gerry, he said: "Ree yura norom."

"That's what I've always said," Tommy agreed amiably. "Great kid. But she needs a man around to keep her from getting hysterical."

He-blocked a playful punch from his fiancée. After a few more exchanges of pleasantries, the Titanians led the castaways into the city.

It was entirely different this time, filled with the quiet hum of life. Vehicles moved silently and swiftly through the streets, though neither wheels nor motive power were visible. Occasionally they caught glimpses of a form of escalator inside the buildings. Throughout their tour, the strange people never once gave vent to any expression of surprise at sight of the visitors from Earth.

"They're the most super-polite race I've ever seen," Strike said uncomfortably. "In fact, too much so. They have the exaggerated formality and worship of mannerism of a decadent people."

Gerry, slightly startled at this penetrating comment, agreed.

"Yes, the aura of decay does seem to saturate the place. A pity, too. They're such nice little men."

The tour of inspection, instead of clarifying, simply added more mysteries. There was no indication whatever of any central source of power generation or machinery. And nowhere did they see anyone at work. Titanian life seemed to be one long round of quiet amusement and leisure.

The journey ended before one of the Titanian apartments. Gerry and Strike entered, leaving Barrows outside to watch for Kranz. They found the odd furniture strangely comfortable, but were inconvenienced by the low ceiling and lack of light. Evidently the Titanians could see in the dark better than cats. Food was offered, but it was a case of one man's meat being another's poison. It made both of them temporarily sick.

Gerry picked up a vase-shaped object, beautifully molded of metal, though incredibly light. She tried to break it between her hands, then hammered it savagely on the wall.

"Not a dent!" she exclaimed in awe. "The stuff is some kind of alloy, too. Tommy, these people do have a secret that will enable us to repair the Ark! If we can only learn it—"

They looked at one another with rising excitement.

To kill time, Strike amused himself hugely with silly antics. First he entertained the astonished Titanians with feats of strength that were quite simple in the reduced gravity. Then he tried to find a common denominator in his attempts to communicate with signs. He was less successful in this.

During this display, he made one disturbing discovery. There was a ragged, apparently bottomless hole in the floor at the back of the room. A nauseating odor rose from it, suggestive of nameless evil.

FINALLY Kranz arrived with five other crew members. Strike, Gerry and Barrows took the oxygen bottles that were offered then. Then Gerry seized the apparatus which actually resembled a series of bowls joined by wires.

"Now!" she exclaimed in triumph. "Now we can really talk to these people."

Her statement created a sensation, and the entire party crowded into the apartment. The Titanians seemed delighted at the prospect of entertaining this bunch of overdressed, muscular, hairy guests. They listened with every evidence of profound interest as Gerry expounded the principles of the gadget she held in her hands.

"This is a thought helmet," she declared, with an air of defying anyone to contradict her. She held up one of the bowl-like metal things. "It's an invention of my cousin Elmer at Federal Tech. It has built-in headphones, and contains a compact power unit. Thought, of course, is a delicate electrical wave that's generated by the atoms of the brain. When the companion piece to this helmet is placed on the head of another person, each acts as a super-sensitive receiver of mutual electrical thought impulses."

Strike made the mistake of offering an argument.

"So what? After you pick up your impulses, they'd have to be reproduced in your own brain. Did Elmer think of that?"

"Elmer has thought of everything," Gerry replied bitingly, "except how to deal with impertinent interruptions. May I continue, please?"

"Um."

"The impulses received are greatly amplified in the coils of these helmets. By electrical induction, they set up similar impulses in the brain of anyone who wears the helmet. So the wearer experiences the exact thoughts he has tuned in." Gerry donned one of the helmets. Then, approaching one of the Titanians, she induced him by politely gentle signs to emulate her example. There were three other helmets with lead-ins to Gerry's master helmet.

"These," she explained, "are one-way receivers. You can hear what goes on, but your own thoughts are not broadcast. Otherwise there'd be an awful jumble. Here, Tommy, Barrows, Kranz ... All set?"

Carefully Gerry threw a switch in her helmet and then the Titanian's.

A faint humming sounded, but that was all. There were no thought impulses. Strike began to grin.

"I think I could beat Elmer just with my sign language."

Gerry sighed. "My, aren't we the impatient one, though!" The terrible uncertainty and lack of time reflected in her voice as sarcasm. "Human thought waves, my love, range within a narrow band of wave lengths. We must stay within that range to hear thoughts. Each brain has an infinitely fine difference from every other brain. We have to tune in."

She began to twist a sunken vernier dial on the Titanian's helmet, broadcasting a repetition of a single thought:

"We wish to be your friends. We wish to be your friends."

The three men also twisted their dials and simultaneously picked up Gerry's unspoken thought. The expressions on their faces were ludicrous. But before they could say anything, the Titanian's features also registered amazement and pleasure. He bowed and fluttered his hands ingratiatingly. Gerry raised her eyebrows in triumph.

"Now to tune in on our friend. I'll speak my thoughts aloud, so all you need to do is get on the Titanian wave length."

THERE was a moment of silent dialing and then the Titanian's thoughts came in with sudden strength.

"So happy to welcome the strange bipeds. Our homes, our sustenance, our lives are at your disposal."

This had the sound of ritual rather than a genuine offer. Gerry cut her switch momentarily and turned exultantly to Strike.

"Just think! We're in contact with an intelligent race, with all their customs, science, literature, and intellectual progress. Probably the culture of a planet from another universe. Why, a few weeks here may open up undreamed-of avenues of research in all lines of human endeavor!"

"We haven't got weeks to spare," interjected Strike. "Remember Kurtt?"

"Urn, yes. Kurtt and the race."

Gerry suddenly looked harassed at this reminder that their lives depended upon her tact and ingenuity. She started to reestablish thought contact with the Titanian, but was interrupted by the booming gong that had frightened them earlier in the day.

The Titanians all spread their hands regretfully, mouthing their incomprehensible syllables. Gerry snapped the switch just in time to catch the end of the explanation.

"It is the Time of Offering now. We must retire. Please do not go away. We shall awaken shortly. Our homes are yours."

Bowing ingratiatingly, the Titanians lay down upon their curiously constructed beds and instantly dropped into a coma. All through the buildings came the rustling, pattering sound of thousands of tiny feet. The party from the Ark watched in wary bewilderment. The tension was snapped by Gerry's gasp.

"Look there—coming up through the hole in the floor!"

It was a hideously malformed little devil that stared around with bright, beady eyes at the intruders, then popped out into the room. It stood about three feet high, in appearance much like a sea-horse. At the base of the nauseous, scaly body there were four short legs, ending in hoofs. The creature seemed top-heavy. Just as the Titanians were the epitome of kindliness, this thing was stark evil.

"No sudden moves, boys," Gerry ordered in quiet tones. "This monkey looks as if he could be pretty mean."

There was intelligence in the beast's eyes as it surveyed the unexpected situuation. Abruptly the slender snout opened and it hissed, long and piercingly. It also recognized a foe.

War had been declared.

THE group from the Ark pressed it slowly back to await developments. There was something mysterious, unexplained. They wanted to learn the vital elements of the situation before deciding on a course of action.

The monster apparently took this withdrawal as capitulation, and promptly went about its business, ignoring the others. The hoofs made a faintly disturbing clop-clop as it crossed the room to bend over one of the sleeping Titanians. From its snout protruded a long, thin extension that was almost needlelike. Before anyone could speak or interrupt, it was plunged into the throat of the Titanian!

Action erupted in a swift flurry. Someone had his heat ray out in a flash, hurling a soundless, searing bolt. The monster doubled up in quick pain, nipping at the glowing spot on its horny hide. Then it turned, hissing viciously as if charged.

Cool and efficient, Gerry instantly took command.

"Concentrated heat beam," she ordered calmly. "Its armor is too strong for diffused rays."

As she spoke, she had her own weapon unsheathed and adjusted with a single swift motion. While the monster drove at them, Gerry emotionlessly drilled it twice and stepped out of the path of the plunging body like a graceful bull-fighter. It crashed against the front wall and collapsed, smoking from half a dozen heat ray blasts.

Immediately after the brief scuffle, two more ugly devils magically popped up into the room. For a moment it looked like real trouble in the confining, narrow room. The leading Titanian, however, stirred restlessly and raised himself on one elbow. He was groggy, like a bear roused from hibernation. But he managed to convey by gestures of negation that Gerry and the hunters were to do nothing to interrupt. Then he heavily dropped back on the couch and sank into a coma again.

"He wants us to lay off, men," Gerry said in bewilderment. "Evidently this sort of thing goes on all the time. Maybe he isn't being hurt, and will tell us about it when he awakens. This whole business, though—" She shook her head. "It absolutely beats me."

The new monsters methodically went about plunging their needlelike tongues into the sleeping Titanians' exposed throats. Gerry repressed a shudder, turned sharply away. She found Strike making the most of the opportunity to study the body of the dead one.

"Find out anything?"

"A little," he said abstractedly. "For one thing, this tonguelike jigger is sharp and bony. Also it's hollow, like a hypodermic needle. And the cheeks inside are lined with pouches that're partially filled with some oily stuff."

Gerry forced herself to wait patiently while the ugly little monsters came in three relays to gouge at the necks of the helpless Titanians. Finally they disappeared for good, and the vague scurrying sounds all over the city died away to silence. This in turn was broken by the double note of the deep-toned gong.

The three Titanians awoke, bright-eyed and seemingly refreshed, to turn graciously again to their guests.