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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e37f964 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51351 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51351) diff --git a/old/51351-h.zip b/old/51351-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a51078b..0000000 --- a/old/51351-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51351-h/51351-h.htm b/old/51351-h/51351-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 7d2a2c7..0000000 --- a/old/51351-h/51351-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1329 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Spicy Sound of Success, by Jim Harmon. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spicy Sound of Success, by Jim Harmon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Spicy Sound of Success - -Author: Jim Harmon - -Release Date: March 3, 2016 [EBook #51351] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPICY SOUND OF SUCCESS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="372" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>THE SPICY SOUND OF SUCCESS</h1> - -<p>By JIM HARMON</p> - -<p>Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Magazine August 1959.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>Now was the captain's chance to prove he knew<br /> -less than the crew—all their lives hung upon it!</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>There was nothing showing on the video screen. That was why we were -looking at it so analytically.</p> - -<p>"Transphasia, that's what it is," Ordinary Spaceman Quade stated with -a definite thrust of his angular jaw in my direction. "You can take my -word on that, Captain Gavin."</p> - -<p>"Can't," I told him. "I can't trust your opinion. I can't trust -<i>anything</i>. That's why I'm Captain."</p> - -<p>"You'll get over feeling like that."</p> - -<p>"I know. Then I'll become First Officer."</p> - -<p>"But look at that screen, sir," Quade said with an emphatic swing of -his scarred arm. "I've seen blank scanning like that before and you -haven't—it's your first trip. This always means transphasia—cortex -dissolution, motor area feedback, the Aitchell Effect—call it anything -you like, it's still transphasia."</p> - -<p>"I know what transphasia is," I said moderately. "It means an -electrogravitational disturbance of incoming sense data, rechanneling -it to the wrong receptive areas. Besides the human brain, it also -effects electronic equipment, like radar and television."</p> - -<p>"Obviously." Quade glanced disgustedly at the screen.</p> - -<p>"Too obvious. This time it might not be a familiar condition of many -planetary gravitational fields. On this planet, that blank kinescope -may mean our Big Brother kites were knocked down by hostile natives."</p> - -<p>"You are plain wrong, Captain. Traditionally, alien races never -interfere with our explorations. Generally, they are so alien to us -they can't even recognize our existence."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I drew myself up to my full height—and noticed in irritation it was -still an inch less than Quade's. "I don't understand you men. Look at -yourself, Quade. You've been busted to Ordinary Spaceman for just that -kind of thinking, for relying on tradition, on things that have worked -before. Not only your thinking is slipshod, you've grown careless about -everything else, even your own life."</p> - -<p>"Just a minute, Captain. I've never been 'busted.' In the Exploration -Service, we regard Ordinary Spaceman as our highest rank. With my -hazard pay, I get more hard cash than <i>you</i> do, and I'm closer to -retirement."</p> - -<p>"That's a shallow excuse for complacency."</p> - -<p>"Complacency! I've seen ten thousand wonders in twenty years of space, -with a million variations. But the patterns repeat themselves. We learn -to know what to expect, so maybe we can't maintain the reactionary -caution the service likes in officers."</p> - -<p>"I resent the word 'reactionary,' Spaceman! In civilian life, I was -a lapidary and I learned the value of deliberation. But I never got -too cataleptic to tap a million-dollar gem, which is more than my -contemporaries can say, many of 'em."</p> - -<p>"Captain Gavin," Quade said patiently, "you must realize that an -outsider like you, among a crew of skilled spacemen, can never be more -than a figurehead."</p> - -<p>Was this the way I was to be treated? Why, this man had deliberately -insulted me, his captain. I controlled myself, remembering the -familiarity that had always existed between members of a crew working -under close conditions, from the time of the ancient submarines and the -first orbital ships.</p> - -<p>"Quade," I said, "there's only one way for us to find out which of us -is right about the cause of our scanning blackout."</p> - -<p>"We go out and find the reason."</p> - -<p>"Exactly. We go. You and me. I hope you can stand my company."</p> - -<p>"I'm not sure I can," he answered reluctantly. "My hazard pay doesn't -cover exploring with rookies. With all due respect, Captain."</p> - -<p>I clapped him on the shoulder. "But, man, you have just been telling -me all we had to worry about was common transphasia. A man with your -experience could protect himself and cover even a rookie, under such -familiar conditions—right?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir, I suppose I could," Quade said, bitterly aware he had lost -out somewhere and hoping that it wasn't the start of a trend.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Looks okay to me," I said. Quade passed a gauntlet over his faceplate. -"It's real. I can blur it with a smudged visor. When it blurs, it's -solid."</p> - -<p>The landscape beyond the black corona left by our landing rockets was -unimpressive. The rocky desert was made up of silicon and iron oxide, -so it looked much the same as a terrestrial location. Yellowish-white -sand ran up to and around reddish brown rock clawing into the pink -sunlight.</p> - -<p>"I don't understand it," Quade admitted. "Transphasia hits you a foul -as soon as you let it into the airlock."</p> - -<p>"Apparently, Quade, <i>this</i> thing is going to creep up on us."</p> - -<p>"Don't sound smug, Captain. It's pitty-pattying behind you too."</p> - -<p>The keening call across the surface of consciousness postponed my reply.</p> - -<p>The wail was ominously forlorn, defiant of description. I turned my -head around slowly inside my helmet, not even sure that I had heard it.</p> - -<p>But what else can you do with a wail but <i>hear</i> it?</p> - -<p>Quade nodded. "I've felt this before. It usually hits sooner. Let's -trace it."</p> - -<p>"I don't like this," I admitted. "It's not at all what I expected from -what you said about transphasia. It must be something else."</p> - -<p>"It couldn't be anything else. I know what to expect. You don't. You -may begin smelling sensations, tasting sounds, hearing sights, seeing -tastes, touching odors—or any other combination. Don't let it bother -you."</p> - -<p>"Of course not. I'll soothe my nerves by counting little shocks of -lanolin jumping over a loud fence."</p> - -<p>Quade grinned behind his faceplate. "Good idea."</p> - -<p>"Then you can have it. I'm going to try keeping my eyes open and -staying alive."</p> - -<p>There was no reply.</p> - -<p>His expression was tart and greasy despite all his light talk, and -I knew mine was the same. I tested the security rope between our -pressure suits. It was a taut and virile bass.</p> - -<p>We scaled a staccato of rocks, our suits grinding pepper against our -hides.</p> - -<p>The musk summit rose before us, a minor-key horizon with a shifting -treble for as far as I could smell. It was primitive beauty that made -you feel shocking pink inside. The most beautiful vista I had ever -tasted, it couldn't be dulled even by the sensation of beef broth under -my skin.</p> - -<p>"Is this transphasia?" I asked in awe.</p> - -<p>"It always has been before," Quade remarked. "Ready to swallow your -words about this being something an old hand wouldn't recognize, -Captain?"</p> - -<p>"I'm swallowing no words until I find out precisely how they taste -here."</p> - -<p>"Not a bad taste. They're pretty. Or haven't you noticed?"</p> - -<p>"Quade, you're right! About the colors anyway. This reminds me of an -illiscope recording from a cybernetic translator."</p> - -<p>"It should. I don't suppose we could understand each other if it wasn't -for our morphistudy courses in reading cross-sense translations of -Centauri blushtalk and the like."</p> - -<p>It became difficult to understand him, difficult to try talking in the -face of such splendor. You never really appreciate colors until you -smell them for the first time.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Quade was as conversational as ever, though. "I can't see -irregularities occurring in a gravitational field. We must have -compensated for the transphasia while we still had a point of -reference, the solid reality of the spaceship. But out here, where all -we have to hang onto is each other, our concept of reality goes <i>bang</i> -and deflates to a tired joke."</p> - -<p>Before I could agree with one of his theories for once, a streak of -spice shot past us. It bounced back tangily and made a bitter rip -between the two of us. There was no time to judge its size, if it had -size, or its decibel range, or its caloric count, before a small, sharp -pain dug in and dwindled down to nothing in one long second.</p> - -<p>The new odor pattern in my head told me Quade was saying something I -couldn't quite make out.</p> - -<p>Quade then pulled me in the direction of the nasty little pain.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute, Spaceman!" I bellowed. "Where the devil do you think -you're dragging me? Halt! That's a direct order."</p> - -<p>He stopped. "Don't you want to find out what that was? This <i>is</i> an -exploration party, you know, sir."</p> - -<p>"I'm not sure I do want to find out what that was just now. I didn't -like the feel of it. But the important thing is for us not to get any -further from the ship."</p> - -<p>"That's important, Captain?"</p> - -<p>"To the best of my judgment, yes. This—condition—didn't begin until -we got so far away from the spacer—in time or distance. I don't want -it to get any worse. It's troublesome not to know black from white, but -it would be a downright inconvenience not to know which way is up."</p> - -<p>"Not for an experienced spaceman," Quade griped. "I'm used to -free-fall."</p> - -<p>But he turned back.</p> - -<p>"Just a minute," I said. "There was something strange up ahead. I want -to see if short-range radar can get through our electrogravitational -jamming here."</p> - -<p>I took a sighting. My helmet set projected the pattern on the cornea. -Sweetness building up to a stab of pure salt—those were the blips.</p> - -<p>Beside me, there was a thin thread of violet. Quade had whistled. He -was reading the map too.</p> - -<p>The slope fell away sharply in front of us, becoming a deep gorge. -There was something broken and twisted at the bottom, something we had -known for an instant as a streak of spice.</p> - -<p>"There's one free-fall," I said, "where you wouldn't live long enough -to get used to it."</p> - -<p>He said nothing on the route back to the spacer.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"I know all about this sort of thing, Gav," First Officer Nagurski said -expansively. He was rubbing the well-worn ears of our beagle mascot, -Bruce. A heavy tail thudded on the steel deck from time to time.</p> - -<p>My finger could barely get in the chafing band of my regulation collar. -I was hot and tired, fresh—in only the chronological sense—from a -pressure suit.</p> - -<p>"What do you know all about, Nagurski? Dogs? Spacemen? Women? -Transphasia?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," he answered casually. "But I had immediate reference to our -current psychophysiological phenomenon."</p> - -<p>I collapsed into the swivel in front of the chart table. "First off, -let's hear what you know about—never mind, make it dogs."</p> - -<p>"Take Bruce, for example, then—"</p> - -<p>"No, thanks. I was wondering why <i>you</i> did."</p> - -<p>"I didn't." His dark, round face was bland. "Bruce picked me. Followed -me home one night in Chicago Port. The dog or the man who picks his own -master is the most content."</p> - -<p>"Bruce is content," I admitted. "He couldn't be any more content and -still be alive. But I'm not sure that theory works out with men. We'd -have anarchy if I tried to let these starbucks pick their own master."</p> - -<p>"<i>I</i> had no trouble when I was a captain," Nagurski said. "Ease the -reins on the men. Just offer them your advice, your guidance. They -will soon see why the service selected you as captain; they will pick -you themselves."</p> - -<p>"Did your crew voluntarily elect you as their leader?"</p> - -<p>"Of course they did, Gav. I'm an old hand at controlling crews."</p> - -<p>"Then why are you First Officer under me now?"</p> - -<p>He blinked, then decided to laugh. "I've been in space a good many -years. I really wanted to relax a little bit more. Besides, the -increase in hazard pay was actually more than my salary as a captain. -I'm a notch nearer retirement too."</p> - -<p>"Tell me, did you always feel this way about letting the men select -their own leader?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Nagurski brought out a pipe. He would have a pipe, I decided.</p> - -<p>"No, not always. I was like you at first. Fresh from the cosmic energy -test lab, suspicious of everything, trying to tell the old hands what -to do. But I learned that they are pretty smart boys; they know what -they are doing. You can rely on them absolutely."</p> - -<p>I leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Let me tell <i>you</i> a thing, -Nagurski. Your trust of these damn-fool spacemen is why you are no -longer a captain. You can't trust anything out here in space, much less -human nature. Even I know that much!"</p> - -<p>He was pained. "If you don't trust the men, they won't trust you, Gav."</p> - -<p>"They don't have to trust me. All they have to do is <i>obey</i> me or, by -Jupiter, get frozen stiff and thawed out just in time for court-marshal -back home. Listen," I continued earnestly, "these men aren't going to -think of me—of <i>us</i>, the officers, as their leaders. As far as the -crew is concerned, Ordinary Spaceman Quade is the best man on this -ship."</p> - -<p>"He <i>is</i> a good man," Nagurski said. "You mustn't be jealous of his -status."</p> - -<p>The dog growled. He must have sensed what I almost did to Nagurski.</p> - -<p>"Never mind that for now," I said wearily. "What was your idea for -getting our exploration parties through this transphasia?"</p> - -<p>"There's only one idea for that," said Quade, ducking his long head -and stepping through the connecting hatch. "With the Captain's -permission...."</p> - -<p>"Go ahead, Quade, tell him," Nagurski invited.</p> - -<p>"There's only one way to wade through transphasia with any -reliability," Quade told me. "You keep some kind of physical contact -with the spaceship. Parties are strung out on guide line, like we were, -but the cable has to be run back and made fast to the hull."</p> - -<p>"How far can we run it back?"</p> - -<p>Quade shrugged. "Miles."</p> - -<p>"How many?"</p> - -<p>"We have three miles of cable. As long as you can feel, taste, see, -smell or hear that rope anchoring you to home, you aren't lost."</p> - -<p>"Three miles isn't good enough. We don't have enough fuel to change -sites that often. You can't use the drive in a gravitational field, you -know."</p> - -<p>"What else can we do, Captain?" Nagurski asked puzzledly.</p> - -<p>"You've said that the spaceship is our only protection from -transphasia. Is that it?"</p> - -<p>Quade gave a curt nod.</p> - -<p>"Then," I told them, "we will have to start tearing apart this ship."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Sergeant-Major Hoffman and his team were doing a good job of ripping -out the side of the afterhold. Through the portal I could see the -suited men expertly guiding the huge curved sections on their ray -projectors.</p> - -<p>"Cannibalizing is dangerous." Nagurski put his pipe in his teeth and -shook his head disapprovingly.</p> - -<p>"Spaceships have parts as interchangeable as Erector sets. We can -take apart the tractors and put our ship back together again after we -complete the survey."</p> - -<p>"You can't assemble a jigsaw puzzle if some of the pieces are missing."</p> - -<p>"You can't get a complete picture, but you can get a good idea of -what it looks like. We can take off in a reasonable facsimile of a -spaceship."</p> - -<p>"Not," he persisted, "if <i>too</i> many parts are missing."</p> - -<p>"Nagurski, if you are looking for a job safer than space exploration, -why don't you go back to testing cosmic bomb shelters?"</p> - -<p>Nagurski flushed. "Look here, Captain, you are being too damned -cautious. There is a way one handles the survey of a planet like this, -and this isn't the way."</p> - -<p>"It's my way. You heard what Quade said. You know it yourself. The men -have to have something tangible to hang onto out there. One slender -cable isn't enough of an edge on sensory anarchy. If the product of -their own technological civilization can keep them sane, I say let 'em -take a part of that environment with them."</p> - -<p>"In departing from standard procedure that we have learned to trust, -you are risking more than a few men—you risk the whole mission in -gambling so much of the ship. A captain doesn't take chances like that!"</p> - -<p>"I never said I wouldn't take chances. But I'm not going to take -<i>stupid</i> chances. I <i>might</i> be doing the wrong thing, but I can see you -<i>would</i> be doing it wrong."</p> - -<p>"You know nothing about space, Captain! You have to trust <i>us</i>."</p> - -<p>"That's it exactly, First Officer Nagurski," I said sociably. "If you -lazy, lax, complacent slobs want to do something in a particular way, I -know it <i>has</i> to be wrong."</p> - -<p>I turned and found Wallace, the personnel man, standing in the hatchway.</p> - -<p>"Pardon, Captain, but would you say we also lacked initiative?"</p> - -<p>"I would," I answered levelly.</p> - -<p>"Then you'll be interested to hear that Spaceman Quade took a suit and -a cartographer unit. He's out there somewhere, alone."</p> - -<p>"The idiot!" I yelped. "Everyone needs a partner out there. Send out a -team to follow his cable and drag him in here by it."</p> - -<p>"He didn't hook on a cable, Captain," Wallace said. "I suppose he -intended to go beyond the three-mile limit as you demanded."</p> - -<p>"Shut up, Wallace. You don't have to like me, but you can't twist what -I said as long as I command this spacer."</p> - -<p>"Cool off, Gav," Nagurski advised me. "It's been done before. Anybody -else would have been a fool to go out alone, but Quade is the most -experienced man we have. He knows transphasia. Trust him."</p> - -<p>"I trusted him too far by letting him run around loose. He needs a -leash in more ways than one, and I'm going to put one on him."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>For me, it was a nightmare. I lay down in my cabin and thought. I had -to think things through very carefully. One mistake was too many for -me. My worst fear had been that someday I would overlook one tiny flaw -and ruin a gem. Now I might have ruined an exploration and destroyed a -man, not a stone, because I had missed the flaw.</p> - -<p>No one but a reckless fool would have gone out alone on a strange -planet with a terrifying phenomenon, but I'd had enough evidence to see -that space exploration <i>made</i> a man a reckless fool by doing things on -one planet he had once found safe and wise on some other world.</p> - -<p>The thought intruded itself: <i>why</i> hadn't I recognized this before I -let Quade escape to almost certain death? Wasn't it because I wanted -him dead, because I resented the crew's resentment of my authority, and -recognized in him the leader and symbol of this resentment?</p> - -<p>I threw away that idea along with my half-used cigarette. It might very -well be true, but how did that help now?</p> - -<p>I had to <i>think</i>.</p> - -<p>I was going after him, that was certain. Not only for humane -reasons—he was the most important member of the crew. With him around, -there were only two opinions, his and mine. Without him, I'd have -endless opinions to contend with.</p> - -<p>But it wouldn't do any good to go out no better equipped than he. -There was no time to wait for tractors to be built if we wanted to -reach him alive, and we certainly couldn't reach him five or ten -miles out with our three miles of safety line. We would have to go in -spacesuits.</p> - -<p>But how would that leave us any better off than Quade?</p> - -<p>Why was Quade vulnerable in his spacesuit, as I knew from experience he -would be?</p> - -<p>How could we be less vulnerable, or preferably invulnerable?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Captain, you got nothing to worry about," Quartermaster Farley said. -He patted a space helmet paternally. "You got yourself a self-contained -environment. The suit's eye looks into yours at the arteries in the -back of your eyeball so it can read your amber corpuscles and feed -you your oxygen in the right amounts; you're a bottle-fed baby. If -transphasia gets you seeing limburger, turn on the radar and you're -air-conditioned as an igloo. Nothing short of a cosmic blast can dent -that hide. You got it made."</p> - -<p>"You are right," I said, "only transphasia comes right through these -air-fast joints."</p> - -<p>"Something strange about the trance, Captain," Farley said darkly. "Any -spaceman can tell you that. Things we don't understand."</p> - -<p>"I'm talking about something we do understand—<i>sound</i>. These suits -perfectly soundproof?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you can pick up sound by conduction. Like putting two helmets -together and talking without using radio. You can't insulate enough to -block out all sound and still have a man-shaped suit. You have—"</p> - -<p>"I know. Then you have something like a tractor or a miniature -spaceship. There isn't time for that. We will have to live with the -sound."</p> - -<p>"What do you think he's going to hear out there, Captain? We'd like to -find one of those beautiful sirens on some planet, believe me, but—"</p> - -<p>"I believe you," I said quickly. "Let's leave it at that. I don't know -what he will hear; what's worrying me is <i>how</i> he'll hear it, in what -sensory medium. I hope the sound doesn't blind him. His radar is his -only chance."</p> - -<p>"How do you figure on getting a better edge yourself, sir?"</p> - -<p>"I have the idea, but not the word for it. Tonal compensation, I -suppose. If you can't shut out the noise, we'll have to drown it out."</p> - -<p>Farley nodded. "Beat like a telephone time signal?"</p> - -<p>"That would do it."</p> - -<p>"It would do something else. It would drive you nuts."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I shrugged. "It might be distracting."</p> - -<p>"Captain, take my word for it," argued Farley. "Constant sonic -feedback inside a spacesuit will set you rocking against the grain."</p> - -<p>"Devise some regular system of interruptions," I suggested.</p> - -<p>"Then the pattern will drive you crazy. Maybe in a few months, with -luck, I could plan some harmonic scale you could tolerate—"</p> - -<p>"We don't have a few months," I said. "How about music? There's a -harmonic scale for you, and we can endure it, some of it. <i>Figaro</i> and -<i>Asleep in the Cradle of the Deep</i> can compensate for high-pitched -outside temperatures, and <i>Flight of the Bumble Bee</i> to block bass -notes."</p> - -<p>Farley nodded. "Might work. I can program the tapes from the library."</p> - -<p>"Good. There's one more thing—how are our stores of medicinal liquor?"</p> - -<p>Farley paled. "Captain, are you implying that <i>I</i> should be running -short on alcohol? Where do you get off suggesting a thing like that?"</p> - -<p>"I'm getting off at the right stop, apparently," I sighed. "Okay, -Farley, no evasions. In plain figures, how much drinking alcohol do we -have left?"</p> - -<p>The quartermaster slumped a bit. "Twenty-one liters unbroken. One more -about half full."</p> - -<p>"Half full? How did that ever happen? I mean you had some <i>left</i>? We'll -take this up later. I want you to run it through the synthesizer to get -some light wine...."</p> - -<p>"Light wine?" Farley looked in pain. "Not whiskey, brandy, beer?"</p> - -<p>"Light wine. Then ration it out to some of the men."</p> - -<p>"Ration it to the men!"</p> - -<p>"That's an accurate interpretation of my orders."</p> - -<p>"But, sir," Farley protested, "you don't give alcohol to the crew in -the middle of a mission. It's not done. What reason can you have?"</p> - -<p>"To sharpen their taste and olfactory senses. We can turn up or block -out sound. We can use radar to extend our sight, but the Space Service -hasn't yet developed anything to make spacemen taste or smell better."</p> - -<p>"They are going to smell like a herd of winos," Farley said. "I don't -like to think how they would taste."</p> - -<p>"It's an entirely practical idea. Tea-tasters used to drink -almond-and-barley water to sharpen their senses. I've observed that -wine helps you appreciate culinary art more. Considering the mixed-up -sensory data under transphasia, wine may help us to see where we are -going."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," Farley said obediently. "I'll give spacemen a few quarts of -wine, telling them to use it carefully for scientific purposes only, -and then they will be able to see where they are going. Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>I turned to leave, then paused briefly. "You can come along, Farley. -I'm sure you want to see that we don't waste any of the stuff."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"There they are!" Nagurski called. "Quade's footsteps again, just -beyond that rocky ridge."</p> - -<p>The landscape was rich chocolate ice cream smothered with chocolate -syrup, caramel, peanuts and maple syrup, eaten while you smoked an old, -mellow Havana. The footsteps were faint traces of whipped cream across -the dark, rich taste of the planet.</p> - -<p>I splashed some wine from my drinking tube against the roof of my mouth -to sharpen my taste. It brought out the footsteps sharper. It also made -the landscape more of a teen-ager's caloric nightmare.</p> - -<p>The four of us pulled ourselves closer together by reeling in more -of our safety line. Farley and Hoffman, Nagurski and myself, we were -cabled together. It gave us a larger hunk of reality to hold onto. Even -so, things wavered for me during a wisp of time.</p> - -<p>We stumbled over the ridge, feeling out the territory. It was a sticky -job crawling over a melting, chunk-style Hershey bar. I was thankful -for the invigorating Sousa march blasting inside my helmet. Before the -tape had cut in, kicked on by the decibel gauge, I had heard or felt -something dark and ominous in the outside air.</p> - -<p>"Yes, this is definitely the trail of Quail," Nagurski said soberly. -"This is serious business. I must ask whoever has been giggling on -this channel to shut up. Pardon me, Captain. <i>You</i> weren't giggling, -sir?"</p> - -<p>"I have never giggled in my life, Nagurski."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. That's what we all thought."</p> - -<p>A moment later, Nagurski added, "Anyway, I just noticed it was my -shelf—my, that is, self."</p> - -<p>The basso profundo performing <i>Figaro</i> on my headset climbed to a -girlish shriek. A sliver of ice. This was the call Quade and I had -first heard as we were about to troop over a cliff. I dug in my heels.</p> - -<p>"Take a good look around, boys," I said. "What do you see?"</p> - -<p>"Quail," Nagurski replied. "That's what I see."</p> - -<p>"You," I said carefully, "have been in space a <i>long</i> time. Look again."</p> - -<p>"I see our old buddy, Quail."</p> - -<p>I took another slosh of burgundy and peered up ahead. It <i>was</i> Quade. A -man in a spacesuit, faceplate in the dust, two hundred yards ahead.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="352" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Grudgingly I stepped forward, out of the shadow of the ridge. -A hysterically screaming wind rocked me on my toes. We pushed -on sluggishly to Quade's side, moving to the tempo of <i>Pomp and -Circumstance</i>.</p> - -<p>Farley lugged Quade over on his back and read his gauges.</p> - -<p>The Quartermaster rose with grim deliberation, and hiccuped. "Better -get him back to the spaceship fast. I've seen this kind of thing -before with transphasia. His body cooled down because of the screaming -wind—psychosomatic reaction—and his heating circuits compensated for -the cool flesh. The poor devil's got frostbite and heat prostration."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The four of us managed to haul Quade back by using the powered joints -in our suits. Hoffman suggested that he had once seen an injured -man walked back inside his suit like a robot, but it was a delicate -adjustment, controlling power circuits from outside a suit. It was too -much for us—we were too tired, too numb, too drunk.</p> - -<p>At first sight of the spacer in the distance, transphasia left me with -only a chocolate-tasting pink after-image on my retina. It was now -showing bare skeleton from cannibalization for tractor parts, but it -looked good to me, like home.</p> - -<p>The wailing call sounded through the amber twilight.</p> - -<p>I realized that I was actually <i>hearing</i> it for the first time.</p> - -<p>The alien stood between us and the ship. It was a great pot-bellied -lizard as tall as a man. Its sound came from a flat, vibrating beaver -tail. Others of its kind were coming into view behind it.</p> - -<p>"Stand your ground," I warned the others thickly. "They may be -dangerous."</p> - -<p>Quade sat up on our crisscross litter of arms. "Aliens can't be -hostile. Ethnic impossibility. I'll show you."</p> - -<p>Quade was delirious and we were drunk. He got away from us and jogged -toward the herd.</p> - -<p>"Let's give him a hand!" Farley shouted. "We'll take us a specimen!"</p> - -<p>I couldn't stop them. Being in Alpine rope with them, I went along. At -the time, it even seemed vaguely like a good idea.</p> - -<p>As we lumbered toward them, the aliens fell back in a solid line except -for the first curious-looking one. Quade got there ahead of us and made -a grab. The creature rose into the air with a screaming vibration of -his tail and landed on top of him, flattening him instantly.</p> - -<p>"Sssh, men," Nagurski said. "Leave it to me. I'll surround him."</p> - -<p>The men followed the First Officer's example, and the rope tying them -to him. I went along cheerfully myself, until an enormous rump struck -me violently in the face. My leaded boots were driven down into fertile -soil, and my helmet was ringing like a bell. I got a jerky picture of -the beast jumping up and down on top of the others joyously. Only the -stiff space armor was holding up our slack frames.</p> - -<p>"Let's let him escape," Hoffman suggested on the audio circuit.</p> - -<p>"I'd like to," Nagurski admitted, "but the other beasts won't let us -get past their circle."</p> - -<p>It was true. The aliens formed a ring around us, and each time a -bouncing boy hit the line, he only bounced back on top of us.</p> - -<p>"Flat!" I yelled. "Our seams can't take much more of this beating."</p> - -<p>I followed my own advice and landed in the dirt beside Quade.</p> - -<p>The bouncer came to rest and regarded us silently, head on an -eighty-degree angle.</p> - -<p>I was stone sober.</p> - -<p>The others were lying around me quietly, passed out, knocked out, or -taking cover.</p> - -<p>The ring of aliens drew in about us, closer, tighter, as the bouncer -sat on his haunches and waited for us to move.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Feeling better?" I asked Quade in the infirmary.</p> - -<p>He punched up his pillow and settled back. "I guess so. But when I -think of all the ways I nearly got myself killed out there.... How far -have you got in the tractors?"</p> - -<p>"I'm having the tractors torn down and the parts put back into the -spaceship where they belong. We <i>shouldn't</i> risk losing them and -getting stuck here."</p> - -<p>"Are you settling for a primary exploration?"</p> - -<p>"No. I think I had the right idea on your rescue party. You have to -meet and fight a planet on its own terms. Fighting confused sounds and -tastes with music and wine was crude, but it was on the right track. -Out there, we understood language because we were familiar with alien -languages changed to other sense mediums by cybernetic translators. -Using the translator, we can learn to recognize all confused data as -easily. I'm starting indoctrination courses."</p> - -<p>"I doubt that that is necessary, sir," Quade said. "Experienced -spacemen are experienced with transphasia. You don't have to worry. In -the future, I'll be able to resist sensations that tell me I'm freezing -to death—if my gauges tell me it's a lie."</p> - -<p>I examined his bandisprayed hide. "I think my way of gaining experience -is less painful and more efficient."</p> - -<p>Quade squirmed. "Yes, sir. One thing, sir—I don't understand how you -got me away from those aliens."</p> - -<p>"The aliens were trying to help. They knew something was wrong and they -were prodding and probing. When the first tractor pulled up and the men -got out, they seemed to realize our own people could help us easier -than they could."</p> - -<p>"I am not quite convinced that those babies just meant to help us all -the time."</p> - -<p>"But they did! First, that call of theirs—it wasn't to lead us into -danger, but to warn us of the cliff, the freezing wind. They saw we -were trying to find out things about their world, so they even offered -us one of their own kind to study. Unfortunately, he was too much for -us. They didn't give us their top man, of course, only the village -idiot. It's just as well. We aren't allowed to dissect creatures that -far up the intelligence scale."</p> - -<p>"But why should they want to help us?" Quade demanded suspiciously.</p> - -<p>"I think it's like Nagurski's dog. The dog came to him when it wanted -somebody to own it, protect it, feed it, love it. These aliens <i>want</i> -Earthmen to colonize the planet. We came here, you see, same as the dog -came to Nagurski."</p> - -<p>"Well, I've learned one thing from all of this," Quade said. "I've been -a blind, arrogant, cocksure fool, following courses that were good on -<i>some</i> worlds, <i>most</i> worlds, but not good on <i>all</i> worlds. I'm never -going to be that foolhardy again."</p> - -<p>"But you're losing <i>confidence</i>, Quade! You aren't sure of yourself any -more. Isn't confidence a spaceman's most valuable asset?"</p> - -<p>"The hell it is," Quade said grimly. "It's his deadliest liability."</p> - -<p>"In that case, I must inform you that I am demoting you to Acting -Executive Officer."</p> - -<p>"Huh?" Quade gawked. "But dammit, Captain, you can't do that to me! -I'll lose hazard pay and be that much further from retirement!"</p> - -<p>"That's tough," I sympathized, "but in every service a chap gets broken -in rank now and then."</p> - -<p>"Maybe it's worth it," Quade said heavily. "Now maybe I've learned how -to stay alive out here. I just hope I don't forget."</p> - -<p>I thought about that. I was nearly through with my first mission and -I could speak with experience, even if it was the least amount of -experience aboard.</p> - -<p>"Quade," I said, "space isn't as dangerous as all that." I clapped him -on the shoulder fraternally. "You worry too much!"</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Spicy Sound of Success, by Jim Harmon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPICY SOUND OF SUCCESS *** - -***** This file should be named 51351-h.htm or 51351-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/3/5/51351/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Spicy Sound of Success - -Author: Jim Harmon - -Release Date: March 3, 2016 [EBook #51351] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPICY SOUND OF SUCCESS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - THE SPICY SOUND OF SUCCESS - - By JIM HARMON - - Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Magazine August 1959. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - Now was the captain's chance to prove he knew - less than the crew--all their lives hung upon it! - - -There was nothing showing on the video screen. That was why we were -looking at it so analytically. - -"Transphasia, that's what it is," Ordinary Spaceman Quade stated with -a definite thrust of his angular jaw in my direction. "You can take my -word on that, Captain Gavin." - -"Can't," I told him. "I can't trust your opinion. I can't trust -_anything_. That's why I'm Captain." - -"You'll get over feeling like that." - -"I know. Then I'll become First Officer." - -"But look at that screen, sir," Quade said with an emphatic swing of -his scarred arm. "I've seen blank scanning like that before and you -haven't--it's your first trip. This always means transphasia--cortex -dissolution, motor area feedback, the Aitchell Effect--call it anything -you like, it's still transphasia." - -"I know what transphasia is," I said moderately. "It means an -electrogravitational disturbance of incoming sense data, rechanneling -it to the wrong receptive areas. Besides the human brain, it also -effects electronic equipment, like radar and television." - -"Obviously." Quade glanced disgustedly at the screen. - -"Too obvious. This time it might not be a familiar condition of many -planetary gravitational fields. On this planet, that blank kinescope -may mean our Big Brother kites were knocked down by hostile natives." - -"You are plain wrong, Captain. Traditionally, alien races never -interfere with our explorations. Generally, they are so alien to us -they can't even recognize our existence." - - * * * * * - -I drew myself up to my full height--and noticed in irritation it was -still an inch less than Quade's. "I don't understand you men. Look at -yourself, Quade. You've been busted to Ordinary Spaceman for just that -kind of thinking, for relying on tradition, on things that have worked -before. Not only your thinking is slipshod, you've grown careless about -everything else, even your own life." - -"Just a minute, Captain. I've never been 'busted.' In the Exploration -Service, we regard Ordinary Spaceman as our highest rank. With my -hazard pay, I get more hard cash than _you_ do, and I'm closer to -retirement." - -"That's a shallow excuse for complacency." - -"Complacency! I've seen ten thousand wonders in twenty years of space, -with a million variations. But the patterns repeat themselves. We learn -to know what to expect, so maybe we can't maintain the reactionary -caution the service likes in officers." - -"I resent the word 'reactionary,' Spaceman! In civilian life, I was -a lapidary and I learned the value of deliberation. But I never got -too cataleptic to tap a million-dollar gem, which is more than my -contemporaries can say, many of 'em." - -"Captain Gavin," Quade said patiently, "you must realize that an -outsider like you, among a crew of skilled spacemen, can never be more -than a figurehead." - -Was this the way I was to be treated? Why, this man had deliberately -insulted me, his captain. I controlled myself, remembering the -familiarity that had always existed between members of a crew working -under close conditions, from the time of the ancient submarines and the -first orbital ships. - -"Quade," I said, "there's only one way for us to find out which of us -is right about the cause of our scanning blackout." - -"We go out and find the reason." - -"Exactly. We go. You and me. I hope you can stand my company." - -"I'm not sure I can," he answered reluctantly. "My hazard pay doesn't -cover exploring with rookies. With all due respect, Captain." - -I clapped him on the shoulder. "But, man, you have just been telling -me all we had to worry about was common transphasia. A man with your -experience could protect himself and cover even a rookie, under such -familiar conditions--right?" - -"Yes, sir, I suppose I could," Quade said, bitterly aware he had lost -out somewhere and hoping that it wasn't the start of a trend. - - * * * * * - -"Looks okay to me," I said. Quade passed a gauntlet over his faceplate. -"It's real. I can blur it with a smudged visor. When it blurs, it's -solid." - -The landscape beyond the black corona left by our landing rockets was -unimpressive. The rocky desert was made up of silicon and iron oxide, -so it looked much the same as a terrestrial location. Yellowish-white -sand ran up to and around reddish brown rock clawing into the pink -sunlight. - -"I don't understand it," Quade admitted. "Transphasia hits you a foul -as soon as you let it into the airlock." - -"Apparently, Quade, _this_ thing is going to creep up on us." - -"Don't sound smug, Captain. It's pitty-pattying behind you too." - -The keening call across the surface of consciousness postponed my reply. - -The wail was ominously forlorn, defiant of description. I turned my -head around slowly inside my helmet, not even sure that I had heard it. - -But what else can you do with a wail but _hear_ it? - -Quade nodded. "I've felt this before. It usually hits sooner. Let's -trace it." - -"I don't like this," I admitted. "It's not at all what I expected from -what you said about transphasia. It must be something else." - -"It couldn't be anything else. I know what to expect. You don't. You -may begin smelling sensations, tasting sounds, hearing sights, seeing -tastes, touching odors--or any other combination. Don't let it bother -you." - -"Of course not. I'll soothe my nerves by counting little shocks of -lanolin jumping over a loud fence." - -Quade grinned behind his faceplate. "Good idea." - -"Then you can have it. I'm going to try keeping my eyes open and -staying alive." - -There was no reply. - -His expression was tart and greasy despite all his light talk, and -I knew mine was the same. I tested the security rope between our -pressure suits. It was a taut and virile bass. - -We scaled a staccato of rocks, our suits grinding pepper against our -hides. - -The musk summit rose before us, a minor-key horizon with a shifting -treble for as far as I could smell. It was primitive beauty that made -you feel shocking pink inside. The most beautiful vista I had ever -tasted, it couldn't be dulled even by the sensation of beef broth under -my skin. - -"Is this transphasia?" I asked in awe. - -"It always has been before," Quade remarked. "Ready to swallow your -words about this being something an old hand wouldn't recognize, -Captain?" - -"I'm swallowing no words until I find out precisely how they taste -here." - -"Not a bad taste. They're pretty. Or haven't you noticed?" - -"Quade, you're right! About the colors anyway. This reminds me of an -illiscope recording from a cybernetic translator." - -"It should. I don't suppose we could understand each other if it wasn't -for our morphistudy courses in reading cross-sense translations of -Centauri blushtalk and the like." - -It became difficult to understand him, difficult to try talking in the -face of such splendor. You never really appreciate colors until you -smell them for the first time. - - * * * * * - -Quade was as conversational as ever, though. "I can't see -irregularities occurring in a gravitational field. We must have -compensated for the transphasia while we still had a point of -reference, the solid reality of the spaceship. But out here, where all -we have to hang onto is each other, our concept of reality goes _bang_ -and deflates to a tired joke." - -Before I could agree with one of his theories for once, a streak of -spice shot past us. It bounced back tangily and made a bitter rip -between the two of us. There was no time to judge its size, if it had -size, or its decibel range, or its caloric count, before a small, sharp -pain dug in and dwindled down to nothing in one long second. - -The new odor pattern in my head told me Quade was saying something I -couldn't quite make out. - -Quade then pulled me in the direction of the nasty little pain. - -"Wait a minute, Spaceman!" I bellowed. "Where the devil do you think -you're dragging me? Halt! That's a direct order." - -He stopped. "Don't you want to find out what that was? This _is_ an -exploration party, you know, sir." - -"I'm not sure I do want to find out what that was just now. I didn't -like the feel of it. But the important thing is for us not to get any -further from the ship." - -"That's important, Captain?" - -"To the best of my judgment, yes. This--condition--didn't begin until -we got so far away from the spacer--in time or distance. I don't want -it to get any worse. It's troublesome not to know black from white, but -it would be a downright inconvenience not to know which way is up." - -"Not for an experienced spaceman," Quade griped. "I'm used to -free-fall." - -But he turned back. - -"Just a minute," I said. "There was something strange up ahead. I want -to see if short-range radar can get through our electrogravitational -jamming here." - -I took a sighting. My helmet set projected the pattern on the cornea. -Sweetness building up to a stab of pure salt--those were the blips. - -Beside me, there was a thin thread of violet. Quade had whistled. He -was reading the map too. - -The slope fell away sharply in front of us, becoming a deep gorge. -There was something broken and twisted at the bottom, something we had -known for an instant as a streak of spice. - -"There's one free-fall," I said, "where you wouldn't live long enough -to get used to it." - -He said nothing on the route back to the spacer. - - * * * * * - -"I know all about this sort of thing, Gav," First Officer Nagurski said -expansively. He was rubbing the well-worn ears of our beagle mascot, -Bruce. A heavy tail thudded on the steel deck from time to time. - -My finger could barely get in the chafing band of my regulation collar. -I was hot and tired, fresh--in only the chronological sense--from a -pressure suit. - -"What do you know all about, Nagurski? Dogs? Spacemen? Women? -Transphasia?" - -"Yes," he answered casually. "But I had immediate reference to our -current psychophysiological phenomenon." - -I collapsed into the swivel in front of the chart table. "First off, -let's hear what you know about--never mind, make it dogs." - -"Take Bruce, for example, then--" - -"No, thanks. I was wondering why _you_ did." - -"I didn't." His dark, round face was bland. "Bruce picked me. Followed -me home one night in Chicago Port. The dog or the man who picks his own -master is the most content." - -"Bruce is content," I admitted. "He couldn't be any more content and -still be alive. But I'm not sure that theory works out with men. We'd -have anarchy if I tried to let these starbucks pick their own master." - -"_I_ had no trouble when I was a captain," Nagurski said. "Ease the -reins on the men. Just offer them your advice, your guidance. They -will soon see why the service selected you as captain; they will pick -you themselves." - -"Did your crew voluntarily elect you as their leader?" - -"Of course they did, Gav. I'm an old hand at controlling crews." - -"Then why are you First Officer under me now?" - -He blinked, then decided to laugh. "I've been in space a good many -years. I really wanted to relax a little bit more. Besides, the -increase in hazard pay was actually more than my salary as a captain. -I'm a notch nearer retirement too." - -"Tell me, did you always feel this way about letting the men select -their own leader?" - - * * * * * - -Nagurski brought out a pipe. He would have a pipe, I decided. - -"No, not always. I was like you at first. Fresh from the cosmic energy -test lab, suspicious of everything, trying to tell the old hands what -to do. But I learned that they are pretty smart boys; they know what -they are doing. You can rely on them absolutely." - -I leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Let me tell _you_ a thing, -Nagurski. Your trust of these damn-fool spacemen is why you are no -longer a captain. You can't trust anything out here in space, much less -human nature. Even I know that much!" - -He was pained. "If you don't trust the men, they won't trust you, Gav." - -"They don't have to trust me. All they have to do is _obey_ me or, by -Jupiter, get frozen stiff and thawed out just in time for court-marshal -back home. Listen," I continued earnestly, "these men aren't going to -think of me--of _us_, the officers, as their leaders. As far as the -crew is concerned, Ordinary Spaceman Quade is the best man on this -ship." - -"He _is_ a good man," Nagurski said. "You mustn't be jealous of his -status." - -The dog growled. He must have sensed what I almost did to Nagurski. - -"Never mind that for now," I said wearily. "What was your idea for -getting our exploration parties through this transphasia?" - -"There's only one idea for that," said Quade, ducking his long head -and stepping through the connecting hatch. "With the Captain's -permission...." - -"Go ahead, Quade, tell him," Nagurski invited. - -"There's only one way to wade through transphasia with any -reliability," Quade told me. "You keep some kind of physical contact -with the spaceship. Parties are strung out on guide line, like we were, -but the cable has to be run back and made fast to the hull." - -"How far can we run it back?" - -Quade shrugged. "Miles." - -"How many?" - -"We have three miles of cable. As long as you can feel, taste, see, -smell or hear that rope anchoring you to home, you aren't lost." - -"Three miles isn't good enough. We don't have enough fuel to change -sites that often. You can't use the drive in a gravitational field, you -know." - -"What else can we do, Captain?" Nagurski asked puzzledly. - -"You've said that the spaceship is our only protection from -transphasia. Is that it?" - -Quade gave a curt nod. - -"Then," I told them, "we will have to start tearing apart this ship." - - * * * * * - -Sergeant-Major Hoffman and his team were doing a good job of ripping -out the side of the afterhold. Through the portal I could see the -suited men expertly guiding the huge curved sections on their ray -projectors. - -"Cannibalizing is dangerous." Nagurski put his pipe in his teeth and -shook his head disapprovingly. - -"Spaceships have parts as interchangeable as Erector sets. We can -take apart the tractors and put our ship back together again after we -complete the survey." - -"You can't assemble a jigsaw puzzle if some of the pieces are missing." - -"You can't get a complete picture, but you can get a good idea of -what it looks like. We can take off in a reasonable facsimile of a -spaceship." - -"Not," he persisted, "if _too_ many parts are missing." - -"Nagurski, if you are looking for a job safer than space exploration, -why don't you go back to testing cosmic bomb shelters?" - -Nagurski flushed. "Look here, Captain, you are being too damned -cautious. There is a way one handles the survey of a planet like this, -and this isn't the way." - -"It's my way. You heard what Quade said. You know it yourself. The men -have to have something tangible to hang onto out there. One slender -cable isn't enough of an edge on sensory anarchy. If the product of -their own technological civilization can keep them sane, I say let 'em -take a part of that environment with them." - -"In departing from standard procedure that we have learned to trust, -you are risking more than a few men--you risk the whole mission in -gambling so much of the ship. A captain doesn't take chances like that!" - -"I never said I wouldn't take chances. But I'm not going to take -_stupid_ chances. I _might_ be doing the wrong thing, but I can see you -_would_ be doing it wrong." - -"You know nothing about space, Captain! You have to trust _us_." - -"That's it exactly, First Officer Nagurski," I said sociably. "If you -lazy, lax, complacent slobs want to do something in a particular way, I -know it _has_ to be wrong." - -I turned and found Wallace, the personnel man, standing in the hatchway. - -"Pardon, Captain, but would you say we also lacked initiative?" - -"I would," I answered levelly. - -"Then you'll be interested to hear that Spaceman Quade took a suit and -a cartographer unit. He's out there somewhere, alone." - -"The idiot!" I yelped. "Everyone needs a partner out there. Send out a -team to follow his cable and drag him in here by it." - -"He didn't hook on a cable, Captain," Wallace said. "I suppose he -intended to go beyond the three-mile limit as you demanded." - -"Shut up, Wallace. You don't have to like me, but you can't twist what -I said as long as I command this spacer." - -"Cool off, Gav," Nagurski advised me. "It's been done before. Anybody -else would have been a fool to go out alone, but Quade is the most -experienced man we have. He knows transphasia. Trust him." - -"I trusted him too far by letting him run around loose. He needs a -leash in more ways than one, and I'm going to put one on him." - - * * * * * - -For me, it was a nightmare. I lay down in my cabin and thought. I had -to think things through very carefully. One mistake was too many for -me. My worst fear had been that someday I would overlook one tiny flaw -and ruin a gem. Now I might have ruined an exploration and destroyed a -man, not a stone, because I had missed the flaw. - -No one but a reckless fool would have gone out alone on a strange -planet with a terrifying phenomenon, but I'd had enough evidence to see -that space exploration _made_ a man a reckless fool by doing things on -one planet he had once found safe and wise on some other world. - -The thought intruded itself: _why_ hadn't I recognized this before I -let Quade escape to almost certain death? Wasn't it because I wanted -him dead, because I resented the crew's resentment of my authority, and -recognized in him the leader and symbol of this resentment? - -I threw away that idea along with my half-used cigarette. It might very -well be true, but how did that help now? - -I had to _think_. - -I was going after him, that was certain. Not only for humane -reasons--he was the most important member of the crew. With him around, -there were only two opinions, his and mine. Without him, I'd have -endless opinions to contend with. - -But it wouldn't do any good to go out no better equipped than he. -There was no time to wait for tractors to be built if we wanted to -reach him alive, and we certainly couldn't reach him five or ten -miles out with our three miles of safety line. We would have to go in -spacesuits. - -But how would that leave us any better off than Quade? - -Why was Quade vulnerable in his spacesuit, as I knew from experience he -would be? - -How could we be less vulnerable, or preferably invulnerable? - - * * * * * - -"Captain, you got nothing to worry about," Quartermaster Farley said. -He patted a space helmet paternally. "You got yourself a self-contained -environment. The suit's eye looks into yours at the arteries in the -back of your eyeball so it can read your amber corpuscles and feed -you your oxygen in the right amounts; you're a bottle-fed baby. If -transphasia gets you seeing limburger, turn on the radar and you're -air-conditioned as an igloo. Nothing short of a cosmic blast can dent -that hide. You got it made." - -"You are right," I said, "only transphasia comes right through these -air-fast joints." - -"Something strange about the trance, Captain," Farley said darkly. "Any -spaceman can tell you that. Things we don't understand." - -"I'm talking about something we do understand--_sound_. These suits -perfectly soundproof?" - -"Well, you can pick up sound by conduction. Like putting two helmets -together and talking without using radio. You can't insulate enough to -block out all sound and still have a man-shaped suit. You have--" - -"I know. Then you have something like a tractor or a miniature -spaceship. There isn't time for that. We will have to live with the -sound." - -"What do you think he's going to hear out there, Captain? We'd like to -find one of those beautiful sirens on some planet, believe me, but--" - -"I believe you," I said quickly. "Let's leave it at that. I don't know -what he will hear; what's worrying me is _how_ he'll hear it, in what -sensory medium. I hope the sound doesn't blind him. His radar is his -only chance." - -"How do you figure on getting a better edge yourself, sir?" - -"I have the idea, but not the word for it. Tonal compensation, I -suppose. If you can't shut out the noise, we'll have to drown it out." - -Farley nodded. "Beat like a telephone time signal?" - -"That would do it." - -"It would do something else. It would drive you nuts." - - * * * * * - -I shrugged. "It might be distracting." - -"Captain, take my word for it," argued Farley. "Constant sonic -feedback inside a spacesuit will set you rocking against the grain." - -"Devise some regular system of interruptions," I suggested. - -"Then the pattern will drive you crazy. Maybe in a few months, with -luck, I could plan some harmonic scale you could tolerate--" - -"We don't have a few months," I said. "How about music? There's a -harmonic scale for you, and we can endure it, some of it. _Figaro_ and -_Asleep in the Cradle of the Deep_ can compensate for high-pitched -outside temperatures, and _Flight of the Bumble Bee_ to block bass -notes." - -Farley nodded. "Might work. I can program the tapes from the library." - -"Good. There's one more thing--how are our stores of medicinal liquor?" - -Farley paled. "Captain, are you implying that _I_ should be running -short on alcohol? Where do you get off suggesting a thing like that?" - -"I'm getting off at the right stop, apparently," I sighed. "Okay, -Farley, no evasions. In plain figures, how much drinking alcohol do we -have left?" - -The quartermaster slumped a bit. "Twenty-one liters unbroken. One more -about half full." - -"Half full? How did that ever happen? I mean you had some _left_? We'll -take this up later. I want you to run it through the synthesizer to get -some light wine...." - -"Light wine?" Farley looked in pain. "Not whiskey, brandy, beer?" - -"Light wine. Then ration it out to some of the men." - -"Ration it to the men!" - -"That's an accurate interpretation of my orders." - -"But, sir," Farley protested, "you don't give alcohol to the crew in -the middle of a mission. It's not done. What reason can you have?" - -"To sharpen their taste and olfactory senses. We can turn up or block -out sound. We can use radar to extend our sight, but the Space Service -hasn't yet developed anything to make spacemen taste or smell better." - -"They are going to smell like a herd of winos," Farley said. "I don't -like to think how they would taste." - -"It's an entirely practical idea. Tea-tasters used to drink -almond-and-barley water to sharpen their senses. I've observed that -wine helps you appreciate culinary art more. Considering the mixed-up -sensory data under transphasia, wine may help us to see where we are -going." - -"Yes, sir," Farley said obediently. "I'll give spacemen a few quarts of -wine, telling them to use it carefully for scientific purposes only, -and then they will be able to see where they are going. Yes, sir." - -I turned to leave, then paused briefly. "You can come along, Farley. -I'm sure you want to see that we don't waste any of the stuff." - - * * * * * - -"There they are!" Nagurski called. "Quade's footsteps again, just -beyond that rocky ridge." - -The landscape was rich chocolate ice cream smothered with chocolate -syrup, caramel, peanuts and maple syrup, eaten while you smoked an old, -mellow Havana. The footsteps were faint traces of whipped cream across -the dark, rich taste of the planet. - -I splashed some wine from my drinking tube against the roof of my mouth -to sharpen my taste. It brought out the footsteps sharper. It also made -the landscape more of a teen-ager's caloric nightmare. - -The four of us pulled ourselves closer together by reeling in more -of our safety line. Farley and Hoffman, Nagurski and myself, we were -cabled together. It gave us a larger hunk of reality to hold onto. Even -so, things wavered for me during a wisp of time. - -We stumbled over the ridge, feeling out the territory. It was a sticky -job crawling over a melting, chunk-style Hershey bar. I was thankful -for the invigorating Sousa march blasting inside my helmet. Before the -tape had cut in, kicked on by the decibel gauge, I had heard or felt -something dark and ominous in the outside air. - -"Yes, this is definitely the trail of Quail," Nagurski said soberly. -"This is serious business. I must ask whoever has been giggling on -this channel to shut up. Pardon me, Captain. _You_ weren't giggling, -sir?" - -"I have never giggled in my life, Nagurski." - -"Yes, sir. That's what we all thought." - -A moment later, Nagurski added, "Anyway, I just noticed it was my -shelf--my, that is, self." - -The basso profundo performing _Figaro_ on my headset climbed to a -girlish shriek. A sliver of ice. This was the call Quade and I had -first heard as we were about to troop over a cliff. I dug in my heels. - -"Take a good look around, boys," I said. "What do you see?" - -"Quail," Nagurski replied. "That's what I see." - -"You," I said carefully, "have been in space a _long_ time. Look again." - -"I see our old buddy, Quail." - -I took another slosh of burgundy and peered up ahead. It _was_ Quade. A -man in a spacesuit, faceplate in the dust, two hundred yards ahead. - -Grudgingly I stepped forward, out of the shadow of the ridge. -A hysterically screaming wind rocked me on my toes. We pushed -on sluggishly to Quade's side, moving to the tempo of _Pomp and -Circumstance_. - -Farley lugged Quade over on his back and read his gauges. - -The Quartermaster rose with grim deliberation, and hiccuped. "Better -get him back to the spaceship fast. I've seen this kind of thing -before with transphasia. His body cooled down because of the screaming -wind--psychosomatic reaction--and his heating circuits compensated for -the cool flesh. The poor devil's got frostbite and heat prostration." - - * * * * * - -The four of us managed to haul Quade back by using the powered joints -in our suits. Hoffman suggested that he had once seen an injured -man walked back inside his suit like a robot, but it was a delicate -adjustment, controlling power circuits from outside a suit. It was too -much for us--we were too tired, too numb, too drunk. - -At first sight of the spacer in the distance, transphasia left me with -only a chocolate-tasting pink after-image on my retina. It was now -showing bare skeleton from cannibalization for tractor parts, but it -looked good to me, like home. - -The wailing call sounded through the amber twilight. - -I realized that I was actually _hearing_ it for the first time. - -The alien stood between us and the ship. It was a great pot-bellied -lizard as tall as a man. Its sound came from a flat, vibrating beaver -tail. Others of its kind were coming into view behind it. - -"Stand your ground," I warned the others thickly. "They may be -dangerous." - -Quade sat up on our crisscross litter of arms. "Aliens can't be -hostile. Ethnic impossibility. I'll show you." - -Quade was delirious and we were drunk. He got away from us and jogged -toward the herd. - -"Let's give him a hand!" Farley shouted. "We'll take us a specimen!" - -I couldn't stop them. Being in Alpine rope with them, I went along. At -the time, it even seemed vaguely like a good idea. - -As we lumbered toward them, the aliens fell back in a solid line except -for the first curious-looking one. Quade got there ahead of us and made -a grab. The creature rose into the air with a screaming vibration of -his tail and landed on top of him, flattening him instantly. - -"Sssh, men," Nagurski said. "Leave it to me. I'll surround him." - -The men followed the First Officer's example, and the rope tying them -to him. I went along cheerfully myself, until an enormous rump struck -me violently in the face. My leaded boots were driven down into fertile -soil, and my helmet was ringing like a bell. I got a jerky picture of -the beast jumping up and down on top of the others joyously. Only the -stiff space armor was holding up our slack frames. - -"Let's let him escape," Hoffman suggested on the audio circuit. - -"I'd like to," Nagurski admitted, "but the other beasts won't let us -get past their circle." - -It was true. The aliens formed a ring around us, and each time a -bouncing boy hit the line, he only bounced back on top of us. - -"Flat!" I yelled. "Our seams can't take much more of this beating." - -I followed my own advice and landed in the dirt beside Quade. - -The bouncer came to rest and regarded us silently, head on an -eighty-degree angle. - -I was stone sober. - -The others were lying around me quietly, passed out, knocked out, or -taking cover. - -The ring of aliens drew in about us, closer, tighter, as the bouncer -sat on his haunches and waited for us to move. - - * * * * * - -"Feeling better?" I asked Quade in the infirmary. - -He punched up his pillow and settled back. "I guess so. But when I -think of all the ways I nearly got myself killed out there.... How far -have you got in the tractors?" - -"I'm having the tractors torn down and the parts put back into the -spaceship where they belong. We _shouldn't_ risk losing them and -getting stuck here." - -"Are you settling for a primary exploration?" - -"No. I think I had the right idea on your rescue party. You have to -meet and fight a planet on its own terms. Fighting confused sounds and -tastes with music and wine was crude, but it was on the right track. -Out there, we understood language because we were familiar with alien -languages changed to other sense mediums by cybernetic translators. -Using the translator, we can learn to recognize all confused data as -easily. I'm starting indoctrination courses." - -"I doubt that that is necessary, sir," Quade said. "Experienced -spacemen are experienced with transphasia. You don't have to worry. In -the future, I'll be able to resist sensations that tell me I'm freezing -to death--if my gauges tell me it's a lie." - -I examined his bandisprayed hide. "I think my way of gaining experience -is less painful and more efficient." - -Quade squirmed. "Yes, sir. One thing, sir--I don't understand how you -got me away from those aliens." - -"The aliens were trying to help. They knew something was wrong and they -were prodding and probing. When the first tractor pulled up and the men -got out, they seemed to realize our own people could help us easier -than they could." - -"I am not quite convinced that those babies just meant to help us all -the time." - -"But they did! First, that call of theirs--it wasn't to lead us into -danger, but to warn us of the cliff, the freezing wind. They saw we -were trying to find out things about their world, so they even offered -us one of their own kind to study. Unfortunately, he was too much for -us. They didn't give us their top man, of course, only the village -idiot. It's just as well. We aren't allowed to dissect creatures that -far up the intelligence scale." - -"But why should they want to help us?" Quade demanded suspiciously. - -"I think it's like Nagurski's dog. The dog came to him when it wanted -somebody to own it, protect it, feed it, love it. These aliens _want_ -Earthmen to colonize the planet. We came here, you see, same as the dog -came to Nagurski." - -"Well, I've learned one thing from all of this," Quade said. "I've been -a blind, arrogant, cocksure fool, following courses that were good on -_some_ worlds, _most_ worlds, but not good on _all_ worlds. I'm never -going to be that foolhardy again." - -"But you're losing _confidence_, Quade! You aren't sure of yourself any -more. Isn't confidence a spaceman's most valuable asset?" - -"The hell it is," Quade said grimly. "It's his deadliest liability." - -"In that case, I must inform you that I am demoting you to Acting -Executive Officer." - -"Huh?" Quade gawked. "But dammit, Captain, you can't do that to me! -I'll lose hazard pay and be that much further from retirement!" - -"That's tough," I sympathized, "but in every service a chap gets broken -in rank now and then." - -"Maybe it's worth it," Quade said heavily. "Now maybe I've learned how -to stay alive out here. I just hope I don't forget." - -I thought about that. I was nearly through with my first mission and -I could speak with experience, even if it was the least amount of -experience aboard. - -"Quade," I said, "space isn't as dangerous as all that." I clapped him -on the shoulder fraternally. "You worry too much!" - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Spicy Sound of Success, by Jim Harmon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPICY SOUND OF SUCCESS *** - -***** This file should be named 51351.txt or 51351.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/3/5/51351/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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