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attacks of the new species, whom we call the
Dwellers."
Otho voiced an urgent question. "That's what I'm
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THE FACE OF THE DEEP
most interested in the Dwellers. Doesn't the
inscription, tell just what they are?"
"Yes, if we knew that, we could hunt the devils
out and destroy them," put in Kim Ivan.
"The inscription does not help us much there,"
denied the Brain. "It names the species who
evolved into the Dwellers. But their scientific name
for that and other species is meaningless to us.
There's no way I can translate their scientific terms
or: proper names."
"Try it anyway, Simon," urged Curt Newton.
"Our safety depends on it. Until we have some idea
what and where the Dwellers are, we're helpless, to
do anything against them."
Ezra Gurney made an emphatic assertion. "That
inscription just proves what I said before -- that the
Dwellers are none other than the Cubics. It's clear
as daylight. One o' the animal species here evolved
into them little cubic monsters, whose group-minds
are strong enough to carry out those telepathic
attacks."
"I still can't believe that the Cubics, are the
Dwellers," Curt demurred "They just don't appear
to be of high enough intelligence. But if Simon can
translate the gaps in the inscription, it will give us a
clear clue to the Dwellers. Then we can act."
"I will try, but I am not too optimistic of
success," rasped the Brain "I know almost nothing
of the scientific terminology of the Antarian
language."
"What are we going to do in th meantime?"
demanded Boraboll.
Captain Future reassured him. "We'll fix up an
alarm-signal around the whole stockade. Then if the
Dwellers get a mental grip on any of us and try to
draw us out, there'll be an alarm that will rouse the
others."
That promise placated the uneasy castaways a
little. Curt Newton worked hastily to arrange the
alarm, grudging the time spent upon it.
He devised a strong cord of vegetable fibers,
which was so looped around the inside of the
stockade that anyone touching it would sound a
clamorous copper gong to which the cord was
attached.
"That will keep anyone from being drawn out
over the wall," he pointed out. "And the gate is
guarded at night. Now, back to work!"
LL that day, Captain Future kept .the
others so busy that they had no time toA
think of the Dwellers. They finished their battery of
six cyclotrons, and started the rigging of several
atomic smelters.
The smelters were big inertron crucibles into
which large amounts of ore could be shoveled. A
stream of atomic energy brought through inertron
pipes to each smelter would burn out the mineral
impurities and permit the molten refined metal
which remained to be suitably alloyed and run off
into casting-molds.
"Twenty-two days -- we're behind schedule,"
sweated Curt Newton that evening. "We should be
casting beams and plates by now. We've got to
speed up somehow."
Weary as the mutineers were that night from
their toil in the ore-diggings, few of them slept.
Their fear of the Dwellers was too great. They sat
in close groups around the fire, listening nervously
for the alarm that would signify that the mysterious
enemy had hypnotically seized one of them and was
drawing him out of the camp.
But the alarm did not come. And morning found
none of them missing. It reassured the men a little,
though some contended that the Dwellers had not
struck simply because they had been wakeful. The
hypnotic attacks had always been made upon
sleeping men.
The atomic smelters were finished this day.
During his work upon the smelters, Captain Future
had detailed McClinton and Grag to a special job.
This was the construction of several very small
cyclotrons which could be used to power such
portable tools as atomic welders. They would be
neces-ary for the fabrication of the ship.
"We've g-g-got the welders about ready,"
McClinton reported to Curt that afternoon. "How
are you c-c-coming?"
Captain Future straightened and mopped his
brow. He was grimy, sweating, haggard-looking
from the driving toil.
"We're ready to cast the keel-beam now," he
said. "Otho and I have been preparing the mold."
The mutineers, returning in troops from their
day's mining and dragging with them their rough
sledges laden with beryllium and chromium ores,
came flocking through the sunset to witness the
operation.
Curt and the Brain had already sketched detailed
plans for their projected space ship, working at
night by firelight to draw their designs on thin
sheets of lead. They had designed the simplest and
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THE FACE OF THE DEEP
smallest ship that would serve their need. And they
had carefully planned so that it would require but
few different sizes of beams, plates and struts.
The molds for the beams had been accurately
fabricated from a perdurable cement made of
certain rocks ground to powder. To the biggest of
these molds was now connected the inertron spout
of the big atomic smelter, which at this moment
throb- bed with power.
"The alloy should be thoroughly compounded by
now," Curt Newton declared. "Start her pouring,
Otho."
Otho opened the spout-valve. From the spout, a
dazzling stream of molten beryllium alloy poured
into the long cement mold.
A cheer went up from ragged band who had
gathered to watch.
"Now we're getting somewhere!" Kim Ivan
exclaimed. "We'll soon have a ship to take us off
this cursed world, now we've cast the keel."
"In h-honor of this occasion, t-tonight I'll eat the
last of my p-prunes," George McClinton declared.
"I've been s-saving them."
Captain Future himself was perhaps the least
excited of them all. He knew only too well the vast
amount of work still to be done in short time.
He turned, looking for Joan. And he was
surprised not to find her. Everyone else was [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]