Part 16 (1/2)

”What do you mean by that?” Kemridge demanded as the beers were drawn and set on the bar.

”Just one moment, please.” The alien curled two tentacles gently around the beers and poured one into each of the two feeding-mouths at the sides of his face. ”Marvelous liquid, your beer. The one point where Earth is clearly superior to Domerang is in brewing.”

”To get back to the lights -- ” Kemridge prodded.

”Oh, yes,” the alien said. ”The lights. Well, they're a pretty fair job -- as good as we could have hoped for from a second-rate technology.”

”Now hold on a minute!” Marner said hotly, and that was how it started.

”I wish we'd kept our mouths shut,” Marner said glumly. He stared balefully at the spotless ceiling of the hotel room in which the Domerangi had installed them.

Kemridge whirled and glared down at the smaller man. ”Listen, Justin: we're here and we're going to show them up and go home rich and famous. Got that?”

”Okay,” Marner said. He ran a finger along his thin lower lip. ”I'm sorry I keep popping off like this. But it does seem screwy to have gone to this extent just to prove a point that came up in a barroom debate.”

”I know. But we wouldn't have come here if the State Department hadn't heard about the argument and thought it needed settling. The Domerangi have been acting lordly about their technology as long as we've known them. I think it's a great idea to send a couple of honest-to-Christmas Terran engineers up here to show them once and for all who's got what it takes.”

”But suppose we _don't_ show them?”

”We will! Between the two of us, we can match anything they throw at us. Can't we?”

Marner smiled gloomily. ”Sure we can,” he said without conviction. ”I haven't doubted it for one minute.”

Kemridge walked to the door and, with a swift searching motion of his fingers, found the plate that covered the door mechanism. He unclipped it.

”Look in here, for example,” he said, after a moment's scrutiny. ”Simple cybernetic mechanism. I don't quite figure the way this green ceramic relay down here controls the power flow, but it's nothing we couldn't dope out, given a screwdriver and a little spare time.”

Marner stood on tiptoes and peered in. ”Perfectly understandable gadget,” be commented. ”Not nearly as efficient as our kind, either.”

”That's just the point,” Kemridge said. ”These Domerangi aren't half the sharks they think they are. We stipulated that we could duplicate anything they gave us, right? With our natural savvy and a little perspiration, we ought to be able to match the best gadget they test us with. If we follow through up here and those two Domerangi engineers on Earth mess up their half of the test, then we've done it. The State Department's counting on our versatility. That's all we need, Justin -- cleverness!”

Marner's eyes lit up. ”Dave, I'm sorry I was so pig-headed a minute ago. We'll give them the business, all right!”

He stood up a little higher and gingerly extended a hand into the gaping servomechanism in the wall.

”What are you doing?” Kemridge asked.

”Never mind. Get on the phone and tell Plorvash that we'll be ready to get to work tomorrow. While you're doing that, I want to fool with this relay. Might as well get some practice now!” He was radiant with new-found enthusiasm.

When Plorvash knocked on the door the following morning, the mood was still on them. They were clear-eyed, wide awake, and firmly convinced they could master any problem.

”Who's there?” Marner asked loudly.

”Me,” the Domerangi said. ”Plorvash.”

Instantly the door flew open and the dumbfounded alien charge d'affaires was confronted with the sight of the two Earthmen still snug in their beds. He peered behind the door and in the closet.

”Who opened the door?” he asked suspiciously.

Marner sat up in bed and grinned. ”Try it again. Go outside and call out 'Plorvash' the way you just did.”

The alien lumbered out, pulling the door shut behind him. When he was outside, he said his name again and the door opened immediately. He thundered across the threshold and looked from Marner to Kemridge. ”What did you do?”

”We were experimenting with the door-opener last night,” Kemridge said. ”And before we put it back together, we decided it might be fun to rig up a modified vocoder circuit that would open the door automatically at the sound of the syllables 'Plorvash' directed at it from outside. It works very nicely.”

The alien scowled. ”Ah -- yes. Very clever. Now as to the terms of this test you two are to engage in: We've prepared a fully equipped laboratory for you in Central Sqorvik -- that's a suburb not far from here -- and we've set up two preliminary problems for you, as agreed. When you've dealt with those -- _if_ you've dealt with those -- we'll give you a third.”

”And if we don't deal with them successfully?”

”Why, then you'll have failed to demonstrate your ability.”

”Reasonable enough,” Marner said. ”But just when do we _win_ this thing? Do you go on giving us projects till we miss?”

”That would be the ultimate proof of your ability, wouldn't it?” Plorvash asked. ”But you'll be relieved to know that we have no such plans. According to the terms of the agreement between ourselves and your government, the test groups on each planet will be required to carry out no more than three projects.” The alien's two mouths smiled unpleasantly. ”We'll consider successful completion of all three projects as ample proof of your ability.”

”I don't like the way you say that,” Kemridge objected. ”What's up your sleeve?”

”My sleeve? I don't believe I grasp the idiom,” Plorvash said.

”Never mind. Just a Terran expression,” said Kemridge.

A car was waiting for them outside the hotel -- a long, low job with a pulsating flexible hood that undulated in a distressing fas.h.i.+on, like a monstrous metal artery.

Plorvash slid the back door open. ”Get in. I'll take you to the lab to get started.”

Marner looked at the alien, then at Kemridge. Kemridge nodded. ”How about one for the road?” Marner suggested.

”Eh?”

”Another idiom,” he said. ”I mean a drink. Alcoholic beverage. Stimulant of some kind. You catch?”

The alien grinned nastily. ”I understand. There's a dispensary on the next street. We don't want to rush you on this thing, anyway.” He pointed to the moving roadway. ”Get aboard and we'll take a quick one.”

They followed the Domerangi onto the moving strip and a moment later found themselves in front of a domed structure planted just off the roadway.

”It doesn't look very cozy,” Kemridge commented as they entered. A pungent odor of ether hit their nostrils. Half a dozen Domerangi were lying on the floor, holding jointed metal tubes. As they watched, Plorvash clambered down and sprawled out on his back.

”Come join me,” he urged. ”Have a drink.” He reached for a tube that slithered across the floor toward him and fitted it into his left feeding mouth.

”This is a bar?” Kemridge asked unhappily. ”It looks more like the emergency ward of a hospital.”

Plorvash finished drinking and stood up, wiping a few drops of green liquid from his jaw. ”Good,” he said. ”It's not beer, but it's good stuff. I thought you two wanted to drink.”

Marner sniffed the ether-laded air in dismay and shook his head. ”We're not -- thirsty. It takes time to get used to alien customs, I suppose.”