THE eyes of every occupant in the eight life-boats gazed questioningly at the surface of the strange little world. Had Gerry Carlyle's fanatical attention to detail paid dividends again, enabling her to select the one right place for them to land? Or had the sketchy information in her library betrayed them into descending into a hostile environment? Perhaps it would be so freezingly cold that repairs to the Ark would be impossible. In that case, they were doomed to a lingering death.
In the main boat, Gerry and Strike were relieving the tension of doubt by swift routine, refusing to take anything for granted. Thermometers, atmospheric drift gauges, barometers, and bolometers were projected through vacuum suction tubes. Air samples were drawn in through the Bradbury valves and automatically analyzed. Visual observations were made through the glassite ports, for Titan was rather well lighted by the reflected glow of Saturn.
The surface of the satellite was irregular, hilly. Jagged cones of possible volcanic origin formed a low range of foothills, with a pass leading to the region beyond. Dunes of fluffy material like volcanic tuff dotted the near landscape.
This and other reports were exchanged between the life-boats. Presently a complete picture began to appear. It was even more favorable than suggested by Murray's notes. The thin atmosphere was largely nitrogen, helium and oxygen, with indications of negligible amounts of other gases in unstable equilibrium. Methane was present in small amounts. This, being the product of organic decomposition, indicated vegetable life.
The temperature was only slightly below freezing. Doubtless Titan received heat from Saturn and the Sun, almost undiminished by any absorbent atmospheric layers. Gravity on a body only a few thousand miles in diameter would be relatively weak, less than half normal Earth gravity.
With understandable pride, for the value of her incredible thoroughness had proved itself again, Gerry finally contacted all the life-boats.
"We're perfectly safe, men. Dress warmly. Carry a bottle of oxygen with a tube, and take a breath of it every minute or so in order to prevent blood bubbles from forming. Hand weapons, of course, just in case. So, everybody out!"
A faint cheer returned to her through the communicator. The life-boats disgorged their human cargo as if eight weird eggs were hatching out. After a brief period of leg-stretching and adjusting to temperature and adjustment to temperature and weak gravity, Gerry immediately organized her forces to cope with their grave predicament.
The extent of damage had to be surveyed by the engineers and workmen. Then a party under Strike's leadership prepared to reconnoiter the immediate vicinity to make sure they were in no danger from hostile life-forms. They used one of the life-boats, powered with the little fuel remaining in the tanks of the other seven. Finally Gerry herself led a small expedition to examine thoroughly the other parts of the Ark.
Strike reported all clear. The only thing of interest was one of the cities Murray described. It was just a few miles away, but apparently long deserted. Gerry reported that the damage to the ship was surprisingly small. The crash upon Titan had been eased expertly. A few dents in the hull and a number of fixtures torn loose inside were the only internal casualties. Two compartments had been torn open to outer space—the engine room and the first Saturnian hold next to it.
Both groups gathered around outside the tangle that once was the engine room, watching the workmen clear the debris away. With oxygen bottles in one hand and tubes leading to their mouths, they looked like a group of solemn Turks puffing on their hookahs.
INSIDE, where the engineers crawled about with portable X-ray equipment, were twin centrifuges. Running in opposite directions to obviate torque, they were composed of thousands of tiny rotors spinning at a rate of nearly fifty thousand revolutions per second.
The principle had been worked out three-quarters of a century before by Professor Rouss, of the University of Virginia. Rouss ran rotors eight thousand revolutions a second in blasts of compressed air, achieving centrifugal force a million times as strong as gravity. The Ark, a mighty centrifugal flier, was the ultimate development of that early experiment. The double centrifuge in her stern was powerful enough to move a great mountain.
After an hour's steady labor, the Chief Engineer reported to Gerry. There was an odd look on his face.
"Well, Baumstark," she urged impatiently. "What's the score?" Speaking in clipped phrases, Baumstark replied.
"Seem to have two outs on us, Miss Carlyle. We've pretty thoroughly X-rayed the mess. The starboard centrifuge is undamaged, but the others is in a bad way." He held up several strips of film. "You can see what the Laue patterns show — advanced crystallization. Big sections of the rotors collapsed from metal fatigue at the same time, and flew apart."
"Do you have any idea what caused it?" she asked tersely.
Baumstark took a battered ruin of tubes and coils from one of the workmen. He offered this as evidence.
"This probably was a vibration pack. We found it crushed in among a cluster of shattered rotors. Someone deliberately introduced it into the centrifuges, and it created rhythms that induced metal fatigue. We've been sabotaged, Miss Carlyle."
Gerry and Strike exchanged a long look of slowly dawning comprehension. "So," murmured Strike. "My hunch was right. Friend Kurtt evidently found time to do the job right before Barrows found him wandering around inside the Ark. Clever, in a way, much better than a bomb. It became effective only when we started the centrifuges for our take-off. Kurtt wanted to be sure he wouldn't wreck things till we were well out in space. With luck, the vibrator would have been hurled out through the hole in the hull, and we would never have known the cause of the trouble.
"Kurtt, of course, simply had to hang around near Saturn, wait till we showed up, and then tag along at a safe distance. Sooner or later, he knew he could grab our dermaphos without an argument. No wonder he was so agreeable when the dermaphos was chosen, and no wonder he picked Saturn. It's far enough out of the way so it would be unlikely that anyone would be around to interfere or rescue us."
Gerry, whose intuitive hate and distrust had been proved so well founded, took this evidence of utterly cold-blooded treachery with surprising calm. She smiled with grim promise.
"I rather pity poor Von Zorn when we get back."
Strike looked troubled.
"You don't think Von Zorn actually ordered Kurtt to do anything like this do you?"
"Oh, no. He doesn't like me, because I know him for the faker he is. But he fights fair. That much I grant. No, Von Zorn will be appalled when he learns what his hireling has been up to. But the fact remains that Kurtt is Von Zorn's man. And I think I can do business with that fact when we return."
"If we return, you mean. Kurtt never meant to let us survive, and he's done a pretty good job so far."
"Right. That's the next question." She turned to the chief engineer. "Baumstark, can we manage with the one centrifuge?"
"No, miss. Torque."
"Then how about repairs?"
BAUMSTARK glanced around resignedly, wet his lips and shrugged.
"Dozens of rotors and stators either gone or badly weakened. Probably two hundred replacements necessary. We have a few spares, that's all. I—I don't see how it's possible for us to get the Ark moving, miss."
There was profound silence. Strike's heart dropped to his boots as he thought of Kurtt speeding to triumph with the fruits of their labors. Then he grinned wryly.
"Did I hear something just then?" Gerry raised her lovely, troubled face and gazed at him inquiringly.
"I think that third out just whizzed past us into the shortstop's mitt."
Of all the women in the System, Gerry Carlyle was probably the least prone to accept an adverse decision without bitter protest. She would doubtless start an argument with St. Peter, claiming it was undemocratic to force a new angel to wear a halo and strum corny tunes on a harp against her will. Hence, though the greatest Umpire of all seemed to be calling them against her, Gerry vowed to go down swinging.
Before any sense of defeatism could overcome her men, she was snapping orders with her accustomed spirit. In the Ark's tiny workshop was a small electric induction furnace. Gerry had that brought outside. Then she dispatched four men with ore-finding doodlebugs. The latest development not only located bodies of metallic ores, but also, by registering infinitesimal differences of electrical resistance, indicated what kind of metal was present.
A powerful alloy had to be used to withstand the terrific speeds of the centrifuges. Only a combination of strong but light beryllium and the densely strong but heavy neutroxite, not found on Earth, could be used. These had to be found by the ore hunters.
There were other difficulties, though. Baumstark seemed to draw them from his helmet like a magician. The first was the fact that to smelt ores, their induction furnace would eat a tremendous amount of amperes. So much power could never be provided by the generator that operated the lights in the Ark.
"Rewind the generator," was Gerry's reply.
Then Baumstark pointed out that they hadn't a source of power sufficient to keep that generator moving to produce the necessary amperes. Tommy Strike solved this one.
"Steam," he said. "Haul out one of those tanks we use to carry aquatic specimens and set it up as a boiler. Just beyond that pass there, about half a mile away, there's a forest of some sort. Leafless trees in all kinds of queer geometric shapes. Perfect for firewood. I saw no evidence of water on Titan while we were scouting around, but we can fix a trap that will save most of our steam. So we'll be able to use the same water over and over again."
The ease with which obstacles were overcome by the ingenuity of the captain and crew of the Ark inspired a cumulative feeling of irresistibility in all of them. Gerry glowed with pride. This was the result of her careful selection, severe discipline, rigid training, and years of constant reminder that every possible contingency should be anticipated.
Under some circumstances, she might even have welcomed this challenge to her ability and self-sufficiency. But the terrible threat of Kurtt—which paradoxically loomed larger the farther he sped from them—left no time for any complacency.
One thing was lacking before they could commence their work, and it was found within the hour. The ore hunters came charging into camp with a gleam of triumph in their eyes, like that of a Forty-niner who had struck the mother lode. Both beryllium and neutroxite had been located nearby, practically on the surface of the ground. It would be a comparatively simple matter to mine it in quantity.
Gerry at once parceled out the various jobs, and work commenced furiously. At that particular season of the Titanian year, the satellite was illuminated by either the Sun or Saturn for three-fourths of its day. Hence, by working shifts, the crew of the Ark lost little time because of darkness.
The only delays were caused by unforeseen difficulties. The first occurred at the slanting shaft drilled into the hillside, following a vein of almost pure neutroxite. Returning to work after the first short night, the men found the stope had collapsed. Gerry's examination revealed that four holes, about six inches in diameter and close together, had been bored low in the wall of the shaft, weakening it to the point of breakdown. The holes were smooth as glass, and apparently continued into the very bowels of Titan.
"If none of you fellows dug these holes," observed Gerry, "then they must have been made by a burrowing animal of some kind. I'll, stick around while you work and see if I can't spot our hecklers."
Digging continued, with men lugging sacks of the heavy ore back to the Ark. The light gravity enabled them to handle what would have been hundreds of pounds on Earth. Presently a muffled, whirring sound came from inside the tunnel, and the workmen popped out in a hurry. Gerry, heat ray in hand, set herself at the tunnel mouth.
At the rear came a sudden flurry of rock dust, and a remarkable creature burst into view. It was about the size of a woodchuck, but quite round. Its mouth was set precisely in the center of its head, perfectly circular, and was armed with a formidable set of teeth. Two tiny eyes glittered deep in their furry sockets. Balancing upright like a weighted doll, it stared solemnly at Gerry Carlyle.
The girl moved forward quietly, hoping to capture it by the scruff of the neck. Immediately the animal turned to face the wall of the cave. A number of little flippers, placed at haphazard spots all over its body, sprang into view. The creature began to spin in a clockwise motion at a furious rate, literally boring into the ground with its terrific teeth. In ten seconds the strange creature had vanished.
It was Kranz, peering in astonishment over Gerry's shoulder, who named it in a burst of inspiration.
"Call it a Rotary Mole!"