Part 4 (1/2)
I did so. ”How do you know when they'll turn over, Peewee?”
”I haven't been unconscious-they just tripped me and carried me inside-so I know when we took off. If we a.s.sume that the Moon is their destination, as it probably is, and if we a.s.sume one gravity the whole jump -which can't be far off; my weight feels normal. Doesn't yours?”
I considered it. ”I think so.”
”Then it probably is, even though my own sense of weight may be distorted from being on the Moon. If those a.s.sumptions are correct, then it is almost exactly a three-and-a-half-hour trip and-” Peewee looked at her watch. ”-E.T.A. should be nine-thirty in the morning and turn-over at seven-forty-five. Any moment now.”
”Is it that late?” I looked at my watch. ”Why, I've got a quarter of two.”
”You're on your zone time. I'm on Moon time-Greenwich time, that is. Oh, oh! Here we go!”
The floor tilted, swerved, and swooped like a roller coaster, and my semicircular ca.n.a.ls did a samba. Things steadied down as I pulled out of acute dizziness.
”You all right?” asked Peewee.
I managed to focus my eyes. ”Uh, I think so. It felt like a one-and-a-half gainer into a dry pool.”
”This pilot does it faster than I dared to. It doesn't really hurt, after your eyes uncross. But that settles it. We're headed for the Moon. We'll be there in an hour and three quarters.”
I still couldn't believe it. ”Peewee? What kind of a s.h.i.+p can gun at one gee all the way to the Moon? They been keeping it secret? And what were you doing on the Moon anyhow? And why were you stealing a s.h.i.+p?”
She sighed and spoke to her doll. ”He's a quiz kid, Madame Pompadour. Kip, how can I answer three questions at once? This is a flying saucer, and-”
”Flying saucer! Now I've heard everything.”
”It's rude to interrupt. Call it anything you like; there's nothing official about the term. Actually it's shaped more like a loaf of pumpernickel, an oblate spheroid. That's a shape defined-”
”I know what an oblate spheroid is,” I snapped. I was tired and upset from too many things, from a cranky air conditioner that had ruined a good pair of pants to being knocked out while on an errand of mercy. Not to mention Ace Quiggle. I was beginning to think that little girls who were geniuses ought to have the grace not to show it.
”No need to be brisk,” she said reprovingly. ”I am aware that people have called everything from weather balloons to street lights 'flying saucers.' But it is my considered opinion-by Occam's Razor-that-”
”Whose razor?”
”Occam's. Least hypothesis. Don't you know anything about logic?”
”Not much.”
”Well ... I suspected that about every five-hundredth 'saucer sighting' was a s.h.i.+p like this. It adds up. As for what I was doing on the Moon-” She stopped and grinned. ”I'm a pest.”
I didn't argue it.
”A long time ago when my Daddy was a boy, the Hayden Planetarium took reservations for trips to the Moon. It was just a publicity gag, like that silly soap contest recently, but Daddy got his name on the list. Now, years and years later, they are letting people go to the Moon-and sure enough, the Hayden people turned the list over to American Express- and American Express notified the applicants they could locate that they would be given preference.”
”So your father took you to the Moon?”
”Oh, heavens, no! Daddy filled out that form when he was only a boy. Now he is just about the biggest man at the Inst.i.tute for Advanced Study and hasn't time for such pleasures. And Mama wouldn't go if you paid her. So I said I would. Daddy said 'No!' and Mama said Good gracious, no!' . . . and so I went. I can be an awful nuisance when I put my mind on it,” she said proudly. ”I have talent for it. Daddy says I'm an amoral little wretch.”
”Uh, do you suppose he might be right?”
”Oh, I'm sure he is. He understands me, whereas Mama throws up her hands and says she can't cope. I was perfectly beastly and unbearable for two whole weeks and at last Daddy said 'For Blank's sake let her go! -maybe we'll collect her insurance!' So I did.”
”Mmmmm . . . that still doesn't explain why you are here.”
”Oh, that. I was poking around where I shouldn't, doing things they told us not to. I always get around; it's very educational. So they grabbed me. They would rather have Daddy but they hope to swap me for him. I couldn't let that happen, so I had to escape.”
I muttered, ” The butler did it.' ”
”What?”
”Your story has as many holes as the last Chapter of most whodunits.”
”Oh. But I a.s.sure you it is the simple-oh, oh! here we go again!”
All that happened was that the lighting changed from white to blue. There weren't any light fixtures; the whole ceiling glowed. We were still sprawled on the floor. I started to get up-and found I couldn't.
I felt as if I had just finished a cross-country race, too weak to do anything but breathe. Blue light can't do that; it's merely wavelengths 4300 to 5100 angstroms and sunlight is loaded with it. But whatever they used with the blue light made us as limp as wet string.
Peewee was struggling to tell me something. ”If . . . they're coming for us ... don't resist . . . and . . . above all-”
The blue light changed to white. The narrow wall started to slide aside.
Peewee looked scared and made a great effort. ”-above all ... don't antagonize . . . him.”
Two men came in, shoved Peewee aside, strapped my wrists and ankles and ran another strap around my middle, binding my arms. I started to come out of it-not like flipping a switch, as I still didn't have energy enough to lick a stamp. I wanted to bash their heads but I stood as much chance as a b.u.t.terfly has of hefting a bar bell.
They carried me out. I started to protest. ”Say, where are you guys taking me? What do you think you're doing? I'll have you arrested. I'll-”
”Shaddap,” said one. He was a skinny runt, fifty or older, and looked as if he never smiled. The other was fat and younger, with a petulant babyish mouth and a dimple in his chin; he looked as if he could laugh if he weren't worried. He was worrying now.
”Tim, this can get us in trouble. We ought to s.p.a.ce him-we ought to s.p.a.ce both of 'em-and tell him it was an accident. We can say they got out and tried to escape through the lock. He won't know the dif-”
”Shaddap,” answered Tim with no inflection. He added, ”You want trouble with him? You want to chew s.p.a.ce?”
”But-”
”Shaddap.”
They carried me around a curved corridor, into an inner room and dumped me on the floor.
I was face up but it took time to realize this must be the control room. It didn't look like anything any human would design as a control room, which wasn't surprising as no human had. Then I saw him.
Peewee needn't have warned me; I didn't want to antagonize him.
The little guy was tough and dangerous, the fat guy was mean and murderous; they were cherubs compared with him. If I had had my strength I would have fought those two any way they liked; I don't think I'm too afraid of any human as long as the odds aren't impossible.
But not him.
He wasn't human but that wasn't what hurt. Elephants aren't human but they are very nice people. He was built more like a human than an elephant is but that was no help-I mean he stood erect and had feet at one end and a head at the other. He was no more than five feet tall but that didn't help either; he dominated us the way a man dominates a horse. The torso part was as long as mine; his shortness came from very squat legs, with feet (I guess you would call them feet) which bulged out, almost disc-like. They made squashy, sucking sounds when he moved. When he stood still a tail, or third leg, extruded and turned him into a tripod-he didn't need to sit down and I doubt if he could.
Short legs did not make him slow. His movements were blurringly fast, like a striking snake. Does this mean a better nervous system and more efficient muscles? Or a native planet with higher gravity?