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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..2b69f13 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62260 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62260) diff --git a/old/62260-h.zip b/old/62260-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a23e7a4..0000000 --- a/old/62260-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62260-h/62260-h.htm b/old/62260-h/62260-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index dc04d95..0000000 --- a/old/62260-h/62260-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1333 +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 Trouble on Tycho, by Nelson S. Bond. - </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; -} - -.caption p -{ - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; - margin: 0.25em 0; -} - -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 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph1 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Trouble On Tycho, by Nelson S. Bond - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Trouble On Tycho - -Author: Nelson S. Bond - -Release Date: May 28, 2020 [EBook #62260] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROUBLE ON TYCHO *** - - - - -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="348" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>TROUBLE ON TYCHO</h1> - -<h2>By NELSON S. BOND</h2> - -<p>Isobar and his squeeze-pipes were the bane of<br /> -the Moon Station's existence. But there came<br /> -the day when his comrades found that the worth<br /> -of a man lies sometimes in his nuisance value.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories March 1943.<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>The audiophone buzzed thrice—one long, followed by two shorts—and -Isobar Jones pressed the stud activating its glowing scanner-disc.</p> - -<p>"Hummm?" he said absent-mindedly.</p> - -<p>The selenoplate glowed faintly, and the image of the Dome Commander -appeared.</p> - -<p>"Report ready, Jones?"</p> - -<p>"Almost," acknowledged Isobar gloomily. "It prob'ly ain't right, -though. How anybody can be expected to get <i>anything</i> right on this -dagnabbed hunk o' green cheese—"</p> - -<p>"Send it up," interrupted Colonel Eagan, "as soon as you can. Sparks is -making Terra contact now. That is all."</p> - -<p>"That ain't all!" declared Isobar indignantly. "How about my bag—?"</p> - -<p>It <i>was all</i>, so far as the D.C. was concerned. Isobar was talking -to himself. The plate dulled. Isobar said, "Nuts!" and returned to -his duties. He jotted neat ditto marks under the word "Clear" which, -six months ago, he had placed beneath the column headed: <i>Cond. of -Obs.</i> He noted the proper figures under the headings <i>Sun Spots</i>: <i>Max -Freq.</i>—<i>Min. Freq.</i>; then he sketched careful curves in blue and red -ink upon the Mercator projection of Earth which was his daily work -sheet.</p> - -<p>This done, he drew a clean sheet of paper out of his desk drawer, -frowned thoughtfully at the tabulated results of his observations, and -began writing.</p> - -<p>"<i>Weather forecast for Terra</i>," he wrote, his pen making scratching -sounds.</p> - -<p>The audiophone rasped again. Isobar jabbed the stud and answered -without looking.</p> - -<p>"O.Q.," he said wearily. "O.Q. I told you it would be ready in a couple -o' minutes. Keep your pants on!"</p> - -<p>"I—er—I beg your pardon, Isobar?" queried a mild voice.</p> - -<p>Isobar started. His sallow cheeks achieved a sickly salmon hue. He -blinked nervously.</p> - -<p>"Oh, jumpin' jimminy!" he gulped. "<i>You</i>, Miss Sally! Golly—'scuse me! -I didn't realize—"</p> - -<p>The Dome Commander's niece giggled.</p> - -<p>"That's all right, Isobar. I just called to ask you about the weather -in Oceania Sector 4B next week. I've got a swimming date at Waikiki, -but I won't make the shuttle unless the weather's going to be nice."</p> - -<p>"It is," promised Isobar. "It'll be swell all weekend, Miss Sally. -Fine sunshiny weather. You can go."</p> - -<p>"That's wonderful. Thanks so much, Isobar."</p> - -<p>"Don't mention it, ma'am," said Isobar, and returned to his work.</p> - -<p>South America. Africa. Asia. Pan-Europa. Swiftly he outlined the -meteorological prospects for each sector. He enjoyed this part of his -job. As he wrote forecasts for each area, in his mind's eye he saw -himself enjoying such pastimes as each geographical division's terrain -rendered possible.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>If home is where the heart is, Horatio Jones—known better as "Isobar" -to his associates at the Experimental Dome on Luna—was a long, long -way from home. His lean, gangling frame was immured, and had been for -six tedious Earth months, beneath the <i>impervite</i> hemisphere of Lunar -III—that frontier outpost which served as a rocket refueling station, -teleradio transmission point and meteorological base.</p> - -<p>"Six solid months! Six sad, dreary months!" thought Isobar, "Locked up -in an airtight Dome like—like a goldfish in a glass bowl!" Sunlight? -Oh, sure! But filtered through ultraviolet wave-traps so it could not -burn, it left the skin pale and lustreless and clammy as the belly of a -toad. Fresh air? Pooh! Nothing but that everlasting sickening, scented, -reoxygenated stuff gushing from atmo-conditioning units.</p> - -<p>Excitement? Adventure? The romance he had been led to expect when he -signed on for frontier service? Bah! Only a weary, monotonous, routine -existence.</p> - -<p>"A pain!" declared Isobar Jones. "That's what it is; a pain in the -stummick. Not even allowed to—Yeah?"</p> - -<p>It was Sparks, audioing from the Dome's transmission turret. He said, -"Hyah, Jonesy! How comes with the report?"</p> - -<p>"Done," said Isobar. "I was just gettin' the sheets together for you."</p> - -<p>"O.Q. But just bring <i>it</i>. Nothing else."</p> - -<p>Isobar bridled.</p> - -<p>"I don't know what you're talkin' about."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no? Well, I'm talking about that squawk-filled doodlesack of -yours, sonny boy. Don't bring that bag-full of noise up here with you."</p> - -<p>Isobar said defiantly, "It ain't a doodlesack. It's a bagpipe. And I -guess I can play it if I want to—"</p> - -<p>"Not," said Sparks emphatically, "in <i>my</i> cubby! I've got sensitive -eardrums. Well, stir your stumps! I've got to get the report rolling -quick today. Big doings up here."</p> - -<p>"Yeah? What?"</p> - -<p>"Well, it's Roberts and Brown—"</p> - -<p>"What about 'em?"</p> - -<p>"They've gone Outside to make foundation repairs."</p> - -<p>"Lucky stiffs!" commented Isobar ruefully.</p> - -<p>"Lucky, no. Stiffs, maybe—if they should meet any Grannies. Well, -scoot along. I'm on the ether in four point sixteen minutes."</p> - -<p>"Be right up," promised Isobar, and, sheets in hand, he ambled from his -cloistered cell toward the central section of the Dome.</p> - -<p>He didn't leave Sparks' turret after the sheets were delivered. -Instead, he hung around, fidgeting so obtrusively that Riley finally -turned to him in sheer exasperation.</p> - -<p>"Sweet snakes of Saturn, Jonesy, what's the trouble? Bugs in your -britches?"</p> - -<p>Isobar said, "H-huh? Oh, you mean—Oh, thanks, no! I just thought mebbe -you wouldn't mind if I—well—er—"</p> - -<p>"I get it!" Sparks grinned. "Want to play peekaboo while the contact's -open, eh? Well, O.Q. Watch the birdie!"</p> - -<p>He twisted dials, adjusted verniers, fingered a host of -incomprehensible keys. Current hummed and howled. Then a plate before -him cleared, and the voice of the Earth operator came in, enunciating -with painstaking clarity:</p> - -<p>"Earth answering Luna. Earth answering Luna's call. Can you hear me, -Luna? Can you hear—?"</p> - -<p>"I can not only hear you," snorted Riley, "I can see you and smell you, -as well. Stop hamming it, stupid! You're lousing up the earth!"</p> - -<p>The now-visible face of the Earth radioman drew into a grimace of -displeasure.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's <i>you</i>? Funny man, eh? Funny man Riley?"</p> - -<p>"Sure," said Riley agreeably. "I'm a scream. Four-alarm Riley, -the cosmic comedian—didn't you know? Flick on your dictacoder, -oyster-puss; here's the weather report." He read it. "'<i>Weather -forecast for Terra, week of May 15-21</i>—'"</p> - -<p>"Ask him," whispered Isobar eagerly. "Sparks, don't forget to ask him!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Riley motioned for silence, but nodded. He finished the weather report, -entered the Dome Commander's log upon the Home Office records, and -dictated a short entry from the Luna Biological Commission. Then:</p> - -<p>"That is all," he concluded.</p> - -<p>"O.Q.," verified the other radioman. Isobar writhed anxiously, prodded -Riley's shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Ask him, Sparks! Go on ask him!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, cut jets, will you?" snapped Sparks. The Terra operator looked -startled.</p> - -<p>"How's that? I didn't say a word—"</p> - -<p>"Don't be a dope," said Sparks, "you dope! I wasn't talking to you. -I'm entertaining a visitor, a refugee from a cuckoo clock. Look, do me -a favor, chum? Can you twist your mike around so it's pointing out a -window?"</p> - -<p>"What? Why—why, yes, but—"</p> - -<p>"Without buts," said Sparks grumpily. "Yours not to reason why; yours -but to do or don't. Will you do it?"</p> - -<p>"Well, sure. But I don't understand—" The silver platter which had -mirrored the radioman's face clouded as the Earth operator twirled the -inconoscope. Walls and desks of an ordinary broadcasting office spun -briefly into view; then the plate reflected a glimpse of an Earthly -landscape. Soft blue sky warmed by an atmosphere-shielded sun ... green -trees firmly rooted in still-greener grass ... flowers ... birds ... -people....</p> - -<p>"Enough?" asked Sparks.</p> - -<p>Isobar Jones awakened from his trance, eyes dulling. Reluctantly he -nodded. Riley stared at him strangely, almost gently. To the other -radioman, "O.Q., pal," he said. "Cut!"</p> - -<p>"Cut!" agreed the other. The plate blanked out.</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Sparks," said Isobar.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," shrugged Riley "<i>He twisted</i> the mike; not me. But—how come -you always want to take a squint at Earth when the circuit's open, -Jonesy? Homesick?"</p> - -<p>"Sort of," admitted Isobar guiltily.</p> - -<p>"Well, hell, aren't we all? But we can't leave here for another six -months at least. Not till our tricks are up. I should think it'd only -make you feel worse to see Earth."</p> - -<p>"It ain't Earth I'm homesick for," explained Isobar. "It's—well, it's -the things that go with it. I mean things like grass and flowers and -trees."</p> - -<p>Sparks grinned; a mirthless, lopsided grin.</p> - -<p>"We've got <i>them</i> right here on Luna. Go look out the tower window, -Jonesy. The Dome's nestled smack in the middle of the prettiest, -greenest little valley you ever saw."</p> - -<p>"I know," complained Isobar. "And that's what makes it even worse. All -that pretty, soft, green stuff Outside—and we ain't allowed to go out -in it. Sometimes I get so mad I'd like to—"</p> - -<p>"To," interrupted a crisp voice, "what?"</p> - -<p>Isobar spun, flushing; his eyes dropped before those of Dome Commander -Eagan. He squirmed.</p> - -<p>"N-nothing, sir. I was only saying—"</p> - -<p>"I heard you, Jones. And please let me hear no more of such talk, sir! -It is strictly forbidden for anyone to go Outside except in cases of -absolute necessity. Such labor as caused Patrolmen Brown and Roberts to -go, for example—"</p> - -<p>"Any word from them yet, sir?" asked Sparks eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Not yet. But we're expecting them to return at any minute now. Jones! -Where are <i>you</i> going?"</p> - -<p>"Why—why, just back to my quarters, sir."</p> - -<p>"That's what I thought. And what did you plan to do there?"</p> - -<p>Isobar said stubbornly, "Well, I sort of figured I'd amuse myself for a -while—"</p> - -<p>"I thought that, too. And with <i>what</i>, pray, Jones?"</p> - -<p>"With the only dratted thing," said Isobar, suddenly petulant, "that -gives me any fun around this dagnabbed place! With my bagpipe."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Commander Eagan said, "You'd better find some new way of amusing -yourself, Jones. Have you read General Order 17?"</p> - -<p>Isobar said, "I seen it. But if you think—"</p> - -<p>"It says," stated Eagan deliberately, "'<i>In order that work or rest -periods of the Dome's staff may not be disturbed, it is hereby ordered -that the playing or practicing of all or any musical instruments must -be discontinued immediately. By order of the Dome Commander</i>,' That -means you, Jones!"</p> - -<p>"But, dingbust it!" keened Isobar, "it don't disturb nobody for me to -play my bagpipes! I know these lunks around here don't appreciate good -music, so I always go in my office and lock the door after me—"</p> - -<p>"But the Dome," pointed out Commander Eagan, "has an air-conditioning -system which can't be shut off. The ungodly moans of -your—er—so-called musical instrument can be heard through the entire -structure."</p> - -<p>He suddenly seemed to gain stature.</p> - -<p>"No, Jones, this order is final! You cannot disrupt our entire -organization for your own—er—amusement."</p> - -<p>"But—" said Isobar.</p> - -<p>"No!"</p> - -<p>Isobar wriggled desperately. Life on Luna was sorry enough already. -If now they took from him the last remaining solace he had, the last -amusement which lightened his moments of freedom—</p> - -<p>"Look, Commander!" he pleaded, "I tell you what I'll do. I won't bother -nobody. I'll go Outside and play it—"</p> - -<p>"Outside!" Eagan stared at him incredulously. "Are you mad? How about -the Grannies?"</p> - -<p>Isobar knew all about the Grannies. The only mobile form of life -found by space-questing man on Earth's satellite, their name was an -abbreviation of the descriptive one applied to them by the first Lunar -exployers: Granitebacks. This was no exaggeration; if anything, it was -an understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain low -intelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding and -implacable foe.</p> - -<p>Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had ever -yet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; science -was completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition of -Graniteback physiology—but it was known, from bitter experience, that -the carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of something -harder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could be -penetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame, -by electronic nor ionic wave, nor by the lethal, newly discovered -atomo-needle dispenser.</p> - -<p>All this Isobar knew about the Grannies. Yet:</p> - -<p>"They ain't been any Grannies seen around the Dome," he said, "for -a 'coon's age. Anyhow, if I seen any comin', I could run right back -inside—"</p> - -<p>"No!" said Commander Eagan flatly. "Absolutely, <i>no</i>! I have no time -for such nonsense. You know the orders—obey them! And now, gentlemen, -good afternoon!"</p> - -<p>He left. Sparks turned to Isobar, grinning.</p> - -<p>"Well," he said, "one man's fish—hey, Jonesy? Too bad you can't play -your doodlesack any more, but frankly, I'm just as glad. Of all the -awful screeching wails—"</p> - -<p>But Isobar Jones, generally mild and gentle, was now in a perfect -fury. His pale eyes blazed, he stomped his foot on the floor, and from -his lips poured a stream of such angry invective that Riley looked -startled. Words that, to Isobar, were the utter dregs of violent -profanity.</p> - -<p>"Oh, dagnab it!" fumed Isobar Jones. "Oh, tarnation and dingbust! -Oh—<i>fiddlesticks</i>!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">II</p> - -<p>"And so," chuckled Riley, "he left, bubbling like a kettle on a red-hot -oven. But, boy! was he ever mad! Just about ready to bust, he was."</p> - -<p>Some minutes had passed since Isobar had left; Riley was talking to Dr. -Loesch, head of the Dome's Physics Research Division. The older man -nodded commiseratingly.</p> - -<p>"It is funny, yes," he agreed, "but at the same time it is not -altogether amusing. I feel sorry for him. He is a very unhappy man, our -poor Isobar."</p> - -<p>"Yeah, I know," said Riley, "but, hell, we all get a little bit -homesick now and then. He ought to learn to—"</p> - -<p>"Excuse me, my boy," interrupted the aged physicist, his voice gentle, -"it is not mere homesickness that troubles our friend. It is something -deeper, much more vital and serious. It is what my people call: -<i>weltschmertz</i>. There is no accurate translation in English. It means -'world sickness,' or better, 'world weariness'—something like that but -intensified a thousandfold.</p> - -<p>"It is a deeply-rooted mental condition, sometimes a dangerous frame -of mind. Under its grip, men do wild things. Hating the world on which -they find themselves, they rebel in curious ways. Suicide ... mad acts -of valor ... deeds of cunning or knavery...."</p> - -<p>"You mean," demanded Sparks anxiously, "Isobar ain't got all his -buttons?"</p> - -<p>"Not that exactly. He is perfectly sane. But he is in a dark morass -of despair. He may try <i>anything</i> to retrieve his lost happiness, rid -his soul of its dark oppression. His world-sickness is like a crying -hunger—By the way, where is he now?"</p> - -<p>"Below, I guess. In his quarters."</p> - -<p>"Ah, good! Perhaps he is sleeping. Let us hope so. In slumber he will -find peace and forgetfulness."</p> - -<p>But Dr. Loesch would have been far less sanguine had some power the -"giftie gi'en" him of watching Isobar Jones at that moment.</p> - -<p>Isobar was not asleep. Far from it. Wide awake and very much astir, he -was acting in a singularly sinister role: that of a slinking, furtive -culprit.</p> - -<p>Returning to his private cubicle after his conversation with Dome -Commander Eagan, he had stalked straightway to the cabinet wherein was -encased his precious set of bagpipes. These he had taken from their -pegs, gazed upon defiantly, and fondled with almost parental affection.</p> - -<p>"So I can't play you, huh?" he muttered darkly. "It disturbs the peace -o' the dingfounded, dumblasted Dome staff, does it? Well, we'll <i>see</i> -about that!"</p> - -<p>And tucking the bag under his arm, he had cautiously slipped from the -room, down little-used corridors, and now he stood before the huge -<i>impervite</i> gates which were the entrance to the Dome and the doorway -to Outside.</p> - -<p>On all save those occasions when a spacecraft landed in the cradle -adjacent the gateway, these portals were doubly locked and barred. But -today they had been unbolted that the two maintenance men might venture -out. And since it was quite possible that Brown and Roberts might have -to get inside in a hurry, their bolts remained drawn. Sole guardian of -the entrance was a very bored Junior Patrolman.</p> - -<p>Up to this worthy strode Isobar Jones, confident and assured, exuding -an aura of propriety.</p> - -<p>"Very well, Wilkins," he said. "I'll take over now. You may go to the -meeting."</p> - -<p>Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly.</p> - -<p>"Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?"</p> - -<p>Isobar's eyebrows arched.</p> - -<p>"You mean you haven't been notified?"</p> - -<p>"Notified of <i>what</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that I -would take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?"</p> - -<p>"I ain't," puzzled Wilkins, "heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought to -call the office, maybe?"</p> - -<p>And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. "That—er—won't -be necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just run -along. I'll watch this entrance for you."</p> - -<p>"We-e-ell," said Wilkins, "if you say so. Orders is orders. But keep a -sharp eye out, Mister Jones, in case Roberts and Brown should come back -sudden-like."</p> - -<p>"I will," promised Isobar, "don't worry."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Wilkins moved away. Isobar waited until the Patrolman was completely -out of sight. Then swiftly he pulled open the massive gate, slipped -through, and closed it behind him.</p> - -<p>A flood of warmth, exhilarating after the constantly regulated -temperature of the Dome, descended upon him. Fresh air, thin, but -fragrant with the scent of growing things, made his pulses stir with -joyous abandon. He was Outside! He was Outside, in good sunlight, at -last! After six long and dreary months!</p> - -<p>Raptly, blissfully, all thought of caution tossed to the gentle breezes -that ruffled his sparse hair, Isobar Jones stepped forward into the -lunar valley....</p> - -<p>How long he wandered thus, carefree and utterly content, he could not -afterward say. It seemed like minutes; it must have been longer. He -only knew that the grass was green beneath his feet, the trees were a -lacy network through which warm sunlight filtered benevolently, the -chirrupings of small insects and the rustling whisper of the breezes -formed a tiny symphony of happiness through which he moved as one -charmed.</p> - -<p>It did not occur to him that he had wandered too far from the Dome's -entrance until, strolling through an enchanting flower-decked glade, he -was startled to hear—off to his right—the sharp, explosive bark of a -Haemholtz ray pistol.</p> - -<p>He whirled, staring about him wildly, and discovered that though his -meandering had kept him near the Dome, he had unconsciously followed -its hemispherical perimeter to a point nearly two miles from the -Gateway. By the placement of ports and windows, Isobar was able to -judge his location perfectly; he was opposite that portion of the -structure which housed Sparks' radio turret.</p> - -<p>And the shooting? That could only be—</p> - -<p>He did not have to name its reason, even to himself. For at that -moment, there came racing around the curve of the Dome a pair of -figures, Patrolmen clad in fatigue drab. Roberts and Brown. Roberts was -staggering, one foot dragged awkwardly as he ran; Brown's left arm, -bloodstained from shoulder to elbow, hung limply at his side, but in -his good right fist he held a spitting Haemholtz with which he tried to -cover his comrade's sluggish retreat.</p> - -<p>And behind these two, grim, grey, gaunt figures that moved with -astonishing speed despite their massive bulk, came three ... six ... a -dozen of those lunarites whom all men feared. The Grannies!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">III</p> - -<p>Simultaneously with his recognition of the pair, Joe Roberts saw him. A -gasp of relief escaped the wounded man.</p> - -<p>"Jones! Thank the Lord! Then you picked up our cry for help? Quick, -man—where is it? Theres not a moment to waste!"</p> - -<p>"W-where," faltered Isobar feebly, "is <i>what</i>?"</p> - -<p>"The tank, of course! Didn't you hear our telecast? We can't possibly -make it back to the gate without an armored car. My foot's broken, -and—" Roberts stopped suddenly, an abrupt horror in his eyes. "You -don't have one! You're here <i>alone</i>! Then you didn't pick up our call? -But, why—?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind that," snapped Isobar, "now!" Placid by nature, he could -move when urgency drove. His quick mind saw the immediateness of their -peril. Unarmed, he could not help the Patrolmen fight a delaying action -against their foes, nor could he hasten their retreat. Anyway, weapons -were useless, and time was of the essence. There was but one temporary -way of staving off disaster. "Over here ... this tree! Quick! Up you -go! Give him a lift, Brown—There! That's the stuff!"</p> - -<p>He was the last to scramble up the gnarled bole to a tentative leafy -sanctuary. He had barely gained the security of the lowermost bough -when a thundering crash resounded, the sturdy trunk trembled beneath -his clutch. Stony claws gouged yellow parallels in the bark scant -inches beneath one kicking foot, then the Granny fell back with a thud. -The Graniteback was <i>not</i> a climber. It was far too ungainly, much too -weighty for that.</p> - -<p>Roberts said weakly, "Th-thanks, Jonesy! That was a close call."</p> - -<p>"That goes for me, too, Jonesy," added Brown from an upper bough. -"But I'm afraid you just delayed matters. This tree's O.Q. as long -as it lasts, but—" He stared down upon the gathering knot of -Grannies unhappily—"it's not going to last long with that bunch of -superdreadnaughts working out on it! Hold tight, fellows! Here they -come!"</p> - -<p>For the Grannies, who had huddled for a moment as if in telepathic -consultation, now joined forces, turned, and as one body charged -headlong toward the tree. The unified force of their attack was like -the shattering impact of a battering ram. Bark rasped and gritted -beneath the besieged men's hands, dry leaves and twigs pelted about -them in a tiny rain, tormented fibrous sinews groaned as the aged -forest monarch shuddered in agony.</p> - -<p>Desperately they clung to their perches. Though the great tree bent, it -did not break. But when it stopped trembling, it was canted drunkenly -to one side, and the erstwhile solid earth about its base was broken -and cracked—revealing fleshy tentacles uprooted from ancient moorings!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Brown stared at this evidence of the Grannies' power with -terror-fascinated eyes. His voice was none too firm.</p> - -<p>"Lord! Piledrivers! A couple more like that—"</p> - -<p>Isobar nodded. He knew what falling into the clutch of the Grannies -meant. He had once seen the grisly aftermath of a Graniteback feast. -Even now their adversaries had drawn back for a second attack. A sudden -idea struck him. A straw of hope at which he grasped feverishly.</p> - -<p>"You telecast a message to the Dome? Help should be on the way by now. -If we can just hold out—"</p> - -<p>But Roberts shook his head.</p> - -<p>"We sent a message, Jonesy, but I don't think it got through. I've just -been looking at my portable. It seems to be busted. Happened when they -first attacked us, I guess. I tripped and fell on it."</p> - -<p>Isobar's last hope flickered out.</p> - -<p>"Then I—I guess it won't be long now," he mourned. "If we could have -only got a message through, they would have sent out an armored car to -pick us up. But as it is—"</p> - -<p>Brown's shrug displayed a bravado he did not feel.</p> - -<p>"Well, that's the way it goes. We knew what we were risking when we -volunteered to come Outside. This damn moon! It'll never be worth -a plugged credit until men find some way to fight those murderous -stones-on-legs!"</p> - -<p>Roberts said, "That's right. But what are <i>you</i> doing out here, Isobar? -And why, for Pete's sake, the bagpipes?"</p> - -<p>"Oh—the pipes?" Isobar flushed painfully. He had almost forgotten -his original reason for adventuring Outside, had quite forgotten -his instrument, and was now rather amazed to discover that somehow -throughout all the excitement he had held onto it. "Why, I just -happened to—Oh! <i>the pipes!</i>"</p> - -<p>"Hold on!" roared Roberts. His warning came just in time. Once more, -the three tree-sitters shook like dried peas in a pod as their leafy -refuge trembled before the locomotive onslaught of the lunar beasts. -This time the already-exposed roots strained and lifted, several -snapped; when the Grannies again withdrew, complacently unaware that -the "lethal ray" of Brown's Haemholtz was wasting itself upon their -adamant hides in futile fury, the tree was bent at a precarious angle.</p> - -<p>Brown sobbed, not with fear but with impotent anger, and in a gesture -of enraged desperation, hurled his now-empty weapon at the retreating -Grannies.</p> - -<p>"No good! Not a damn bit of good! Oh, if there was only some way of -fighting those filthy things—"</p> - -<p>But Isobar Jones had a one-track mind. "The pipes!" he cried again, -excitedly. "That's the answer!" And he drew the instrument into playing -position, bag cuddled beneath one arm-pit, drones stiffly erect over -his shoulder, blow-pipe at his lips. His cheeks puffed, his breath -expelled. The giant lung swelled, the chaunter emitted its distinctive, -fearsome, "<i>Kaa-aa-o-o-o-oro-oong!</i>"</p> - -<p>Roberts moaned.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Lord! A guy can't even die in peace!"</p> - -<p>And Brown stared at him hopelessly.</p> - -<p>"It's no use, Isobar. You trying to scare them off? They have no sense -of hearing. That's been proven—"</p> - -<p>Isobar took his lips from the reed to explain.</p> - -<p>"It's not that. I'm trying to rouse the boys in the Dome. We're right -opposite the atmosphere-conditioning-unit. See that grilled duct over -there? That's an inhalation-vent. The portable transmitter's out of -order, and our voices ain't strong enough to carry into the Dome—but -the sound of these pipes is! And Commander Eagan told me just a short -while ago that the sound of the pipes carries all over the building!</p> - -<p>"If they hear this, they'll get mad because I'm disobeyin' orders. -They'll start lookin' for me. If they can't find me inside, maybe -they'll look Outside. See that window? That's Sparks' turret. If we can -make him look out here—"</p> - -<p>"<i>Stop talking!</i>" roared Roberts. "Stop talking, guy, and start -blowing! I think you've got something there. Anyhow, it's our last -hope. <i>Blow!</i>"</p> - -<p>"And quick!" appended Brown. "For here they come!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="389" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>Isobar played, blew with all his might, while the Grannies raged below.</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>He meant the Grannies. Again they were huddling for attack, once more, -a solid phalanx of indestructible, granite flesh, they were smashing -down upon the tree.</p> - -<p>"<i>Haa-a-roong!</i>" blew Isobar Jones.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">IV</p> - -<p>And—even he could not have foreseen the astounding results of -his piping! What happened next was as astonishing as it was -incomprehensible. For as the pipes, filled now and primed to burst into -whatever substitute for melody they were prodded into, wailed into -action—the Grannies' rush came to an abrupt halt!</p> - -<p>As one, they stopped cold in their tracks and turned dull, colorless, -questioning eyes upward into the tree whence came this weird and -vibrant droning!</p> - -<p>So stunned with surprise was Isobar that his grip on the pipes relaxed, -his lips almost slipped from the reed. But Brown's delighted bellow -lifted his paralysis.</p> - -<p>"Sacred rings of Saturn-look! They <i>like</i> it! Keep playing, Jonesy! -Play, boy, like you never played before!"</p> - -<p>And Roberts roared, above the skirling of the <i>piobaireachd</i> into -which Isobar had instinctively swung, "Music hath charms to soothe the -savage beast! Then we were wrong. They <i>can</i> hear, after all! See that? -They're lying down to listen—like so many lambs! Keep playing, Isobar! -For once in my life I'm glad to hear that lovely, wonderful music!"</p> - -<p>Isobar needed no urging. He, too, had noted how the Grannies' attack -had stopped, how every last one of the gaunt grey beasts had suddenly, -quietly, almost happily, dropped to its haunches at the base of the -tree.</p> - -<p>There was no doubt about it; the Grannies <i>liked</i> this music. Eyes -raptly fixed, unblinking, unwavering, they froze into postures of -gentle beatitude. One stirred once, dangerously, as for a moment Isobar -paused to catch his breath, but Isobar hastily lipped the blow-pipe -with redoubled eagerness, and the Granny relapsed into quietude.</p> - -<p>Followed then what, under somewhat different circumstances, should have -been a piper's dream. For Isobar had an audience which would not—and -in two cases <i>dared</i> not—allow him to stop playing. And to this -audience he played over and over again his entire repertoire. Marches, -flings, dances—the stirring <i>Rhoderik Dhu</i> and the lilting <i>Lassies -O'Skye</i>, the mournful <i>Coghiegh nha Shie</i> whose keening is like the -sound of a sobbing nation.</p> - -<p><i>The Cock o' the North</i>, he played, and <i>Mironton</i> ... <i>Wee Flow'r o' -Dee</i> and <i>MacArthur's March</i> ... <i>La Cucuracha</i> and—</p> - -<p>And his lungs were parched, his lips dry as swabs of cotton. Blood -pounded through his temples, throbbing in time to the drone of the -chaunter, and a dark mist gathered before his eyes. He tore the -blow-pipe from his lips, gasped,</p> - -<p>"Keep playing!" came the dim, distant howl of Johnny Brown. "Just a few -minutes longer, Jonesy! Relief is on the way. Sparks saw us from his -turret window five minutes ago!"</p> - -<p>And Isobar played on. How, or what, he did not know. The memory of -those next few minutes was never afterward clear in his mind. All he -knew was that above the skirling drone of his pipes there came another -sound, the metallic clanking of a man-made machine ... an armored tank, -sent from the Dome to rescue the beleaguered trio.</p> - -<p>He was conscious, then, of a friendly voice shouting words of -encouragement, of Joe Roberts calling a warning to those below.</p> - -<p>"Careful, boys! Drive the tank right up beneath us so we can hop in and -get out of here! Watch the Grannies—they'll be after us the minute -Isobar stops playing!"</p> - -<p>Then the answer from below. The fantastic answer in Sparks' familiar -voice. The answer that caused the bagpipes to slip from Isobar's -fingers as Isobar Jones passed out in a dead faint:</p> - -<p>"After you? Those Grannies? Hell's howling acres—<i>those Grannies are -stone dead</i>!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Afterward, Isobar Jones said weakly, "But—dead? I don't understand. -Was it the sound-waves that killed them?"</p> - -<p>Commander Eagan said, "No! Grannies absolutely cannot hear. That is -one thing we do know about them—though we will soon know a great deal -more, now that our biologists have a dozen carcasses to dissect, thanks -to you. But Grannies have no auditory apparatus."</p> - -<p>"But then—what?" puzzled Isobar. "It couldn't be vibration, because -our Patrolmen tried shootin' 'em with the vibro-ray pistol, and -nothin' never happened—"</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless," said Dr. Loesch quietly, "it <i>was</i> vibration which -killed them, Isobar. That is, of course, only my conjecture, but I -believe subsequent study will prove I am correct.</p> - -<p>"It was the effect of <i>dual</i>, or disharmonic vibration. You see, the -vibro-ray pistol expels an ultrasonic wave which disrupts molecular -construction sensitive to a single harmonic. The Grannies' composition -is more complex. It required the impact of two different wave-lengths, -impinging on their nerve centers at the same moment, to destroy them."</p> - -<p>"And the bagpipe—" said Isobar with slowly dawning -comprehension—"emits two distinct tones at the same time!"</p> - -<p>The full meaning of his words flashed upon Isobar. He turned to -Commander Eagan, sallow cheeks glowing with new color.</p> - -<p>"Then—then what means we've licked our problem!" he cried. "We've -found a weapon that'll kill the Grannies, and it won't be necessary to -live inside Domes no more! Now we can move out into the open and live -like human beings!"</p> - -<p>"Absolutely true!" agreed the Commander. "But <i>you</i> will not be living -Outside, Jones. Not right away, anyway."</p> - -<p>"H-uh? W-hat do you mean, Commander?"</p> - -<p>"I mean," said Eagan sternly, "that regardless of results, you are -still guilty of flagrant disobedience to orders! That, as Commander of -this outpost, I cannot tolerate. You are hereby sentenced to thirty -days confinement to quarters!"</p> - -<p>"But—" stammered Isobar—"but tarnation golly—"</p> - -<p>"In the course of which time," continued Commander Eagan imperturbably, -"you will serve as Instructor for every man in the Dome—at double -salary!"</p> - -<p>"You can't <i>do</i> me like this!" wailed Isobar. "Jinky-wallopers, I -won't—Huh? What's 'at? Instructor? Instructor in <i>what</i>?"</p> - -<p>"In the—er—art," said Eagan, "of bagpipe playing. If we are to -rid Luna of the Grannies, we must all learn how to perform on -that—er—lethal weapon. And, Jones, I think I can truthfully say that -this punishment hurts me more than it hurts you!"</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Trouble On Tycho, by Nelson S. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/62260-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/62260-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 27d9972..0000000 --- a/old/62260-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62260-h/images/illus.jpg b/old/62260-h/images/illus.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f5a1f34..0000000 --- a/old/62260-h/images/illus.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62260.txt b/old/62260.txt deleted file mode 100644 index efc545b..0000000 --- a/old/62260.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1212 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Trouble On Tycho, by Nelson S. Bond - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Trouble On Tycho - -Author: Nelson S. Bond - -Release Date: May 28, 2020 [EBook #62260] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROUBLE ON TYCHO *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - TROUBLE ON TYCHO - - By NELSON S. BOND - - Isobar and his squeeze-pipes were the bane of - the Moon Station's existence. But there came - the day when his comrades found that the worth - of a man lies sometimes in his nuisance value. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories March 1943. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -The audiophone buzzed thrice--one long, followed by two shorts--and -Isobar Jones pressed the stud activating its glowing scanner-disc. - -"Hummm?" he said absent-mindedly. - -The selenoplate glowed faintly, and the image of the Dome Commander -appeared. - -"Report ready, Jones?" - -"Almost," acknowledged Isobar gloomily. "It prob'ly ain't right, -though. How anybody can be expected to get _anything_ right on this -dagnabbed hunk o' green cheese--" - -"Send it up," interrupted Colonel Eagan, "as soon as you can. Sparks is -making Terra contact now. That is all." - -"That ain't all!" declared Isobar indignantly. "How about my bag--?" - -It _was all_, so far as the D.C. was concerned. Isobar was talking -to himself. The plate dulled. Isobar said, "Nuts!" and returned to -his duties. He jotted neat ditto marks under the word "Clear" which, -six months ago, he had placed beneath the column headed: _Cond. of -Obs._ He noted the proper figures under the headings _Sun Spots_: _Max -Freq._--_Min. Freq._; then he sketched careful curves in blue and red -ink upon the Mercator projection of Earth which was his daily work -sheet. - -This done, he drew a clean sheet of paper out of his desk drawer, -frowned thoughtfully at the tabulated results of his observations, and -began writing. - -"_Weather forecast for Terra_," he wrote, his pen making scratching -sounds. - -The audiophone rasped again. Isobar jabbed the stud and answered -without looking. - -"O.Q.," he said wearily. "O.Q. I told you it would be ready in a couple -o' minutes. Keep your pants on!" - -"I--er--I beg your pardon, Isobar?" queried a mild voice. - -Isobar started. His sallow cheeks achieved a sickly salmon hue. He -blinked nervously. - -"Oh, jumpin' jimminy!" he gulped. "_You_, Miss Sally! Golly--'scuse me! -I didn't realize--" - -The Dome Commander's niece giggled. - -"That's all right, Isobar. I just called to ask you about the weather -in Oceania Sector 4B next week. I've got a swimming date at Waikiki, -but I won't make the shuttle unless the weather's going to be nice." - -"It is," promised Isobar. "It'll be swell all weekend, Miss Sally. -Fine sunshiny weather. You can go." - -"That's wonderful. Thanks so much, Isobar." - -"Don't mention it, ma'am," said Isobar, and returned to his work. - -South America. Africa. Asia. Pan-Europa. Swiftly he outlined the -meteorological prospects for each sector. He enjoyed this part of his -job. As he wrote forecasts for each area, in his mind's eye he saw -himself enjoying such pastimes as each geographical division's terrain -rendered possible. - - * * * * * - -If home is where the heart is, Horatio Jones--known better as "Isobar" -to his associates at the Experimental Dome on Luna--was a long, long -way from home. His lean, gangling frame was immured, and had been for -six tedious Earth months, beneath the _impervite_ hemisphere of Lunar -III--that frontier outpost which served as a rocket refueling station, -teleradio transmission point and meteorological base. - -"Six solid months! Six sad, dreary months!" thought Isobar, "Locked up -in an airtight Dome like--like a goldfish in a glass bowl!" Sunlight? -Oh, sure! But filtered through ultraviolet wave-traps so it could not -burn, it left the skin pale and lustreless and clammy as the belly of a -toad. Fresh air? Pooh! Nothing but that everlasting sickening, scented, -reoxygenated stuff gushing from atmo-conditioning units. - -Excitement? Adventure? The romance he had been led to expect when he -signed on for frontier service? Bah! Only a weary, monotonous, routine -existence. - -"A pain!" declared Isobar Jones. "That's what it is; a pain in the -stummick. Not even allowed to--Yeah?" - -It was Sparks, audioing from the Dome's transmission turret. He said, -"Hyah, Jonesy! How comes with the report?" - -"Done," said Isobar. "I was just gettin' the sheets together for you." - -"O.Q. But just bring _it_. Nothing else." - -Isobar bridled. - -"I don't know what you're talkin' about." - -"Oh, no? Well, I'm talking about that squawk-filled doodlesack of -yours, sonny boy. Don't bring that bag-full of noise up here with you." - -Isobar said defiantly, "It ain't a doodlesack. It's a bagpipe. And I -guess I can play it if I want to--" - -"Not," said Sparks emphatically, "in _my_ cubby! I've got sensitive -eardrums. Well, stir your stumps! I've got to get the report rolling -quick today. Big doings up here." - -"Yeah? What?" - -"Well, it's Roberts and Brown--" - -"What about 'em?" - -"They've gone Outside to make foundation repairs." - -"Lucky stiffs!" commented Isobar ruefully. - -"Lucky, no. Stiffs, maybe--if they should meet any Grannies. Well, -scoot along. I'm on the ether in four point sixteen minutes." - -"Be right up," promised Isobar, and, sheets in hand, he ambled from his -cloistered cell toward the central section of the Dome. - -He didn't leave Sparks' turret after the sheets were delivered. -Instead, he hung around, fidgeting so obtrusively that Riley finally -turned to him in sheer exasperation. - -"Sweet snakes of Saturn, Jonesy, what's the trouble? Bugs in your -britches?" - -Isobar said, "H-huh? Oh, you mean--Oh, thanks, no! I just thought mebbe -you wouldn't mind if I--well--er--" - -"I get it!" Sparks grinned. "Want to play peekaboo while the contact's -open, eh? Well, O.Q. Watch the birdie!" - -He twisted dials, adjusted verniers, fingered a host of -incomprehensible keys. Current hummed and howled. Then a plate before -him cleared, and the voice of the Earth operator came in, enunciating -with painstaking clarity: - -"Earth answering Luna. Earth answering Luna's call. Can you hear me, -Luna? Can you hear--?" - -"I can not only hear you," snorted Riley, "I can see you and smell you, -as well. Stop hamming it, stupid! You're lousing up the earth!" - -The now-visible face of the Earth radioman drew into a grimace of -displeasure. - -"Oh, it's _you_? Funny man, eh? Funny man Riley?" - -"Sure," said Riley agreeably. "I'm a scream. Four-alarm Riley, -the cosmic comedian--didn't you know? Flick on your dictacoder, -oyster-puss; here's the weather report." He read it. "'_Weather -forecast for Terra, week of May 15-21_--'" - -"Ask him," whispered Isobar eagerly. "Sparks, don't forget to ask him!" - - * * * * * - -Riley motioned for silence, but nodded. He finished the weather report, -entered the Dome Commander's log upon the Home Office records, and -dictated a short entry from the Luna Biological Commission. Then: - -"That is all," he concluded. - -"O.Q.," verified the other radioman. Isobar writhed anxiously, prodded -Riley's shoulder. - -"Ask him, Sparks! Go on ask him!" - -"Oh, cut jets, will you?" snapped Sparks. The Terra operator looked -startled. - -"How's that? I didn't say a word--" - -"Don't be a dope," said Sparks, "you dope! I wasn't talking to you. -I'm entertaining a visitor, a refugee from a cuckoo clock. Look, do me -a favor, chum? Can you twist your mike around so it's pointing out a -window?" - -"What? Why--why, yes, but--" - -"Without buts," said Sparks grumpily. "Yours not to reason why; yours -but to do or don't. Will you do it?" - -"Well, sure. But I don't understand--" The silver platter which had -mirrored the radioman's face clouded as the Earth operator twirled the -inconoscope. Walls and desks of an ordinary broadcasting office spun -briefly into view; then the plate reflected a glimpse of an Earthly -landscape. Soft blue sky warmed by an atmosphere-shielded sun ... green -trees firmly rooted in still-greener grass ... flowers ... birds ... -people.... - -"Enough?" asked Sparks. - -Isobar Jones awakened from his trance, eyes dulling. Reluctantly he -nodded. Riley stared at him strangely, almost gently. To the other -radioman, "O.Q., pal," he said. "Cut!" - -"Cut!" agreed the other. The plate blanked out. - -"Thanks, Sparks," said Isobar. - -"Nothing," shrugged Riley "_He twisted_ the mike; not me. But--how come -you always want to take a squint at Earth when the circuit's open, -Jonesy? Homesick?" - -"Sort of," admitted Isobar guiltily. - -"Well, hell, aren't we all? But we can't leave here for another six -months at least. Not till our tricks are up. I should think it'd only -make you feel worse to see Earth." - -"It ain't Earth I'm homesick for," explained Isobar. "It's--well, it's -the things that go with it. I mean things like grass and flowers and -trees." - -Sparks grinned; a mirthless, lopsided grin. - -"We've got _them_ right here on Luna. Go look out the tower window, -Jonesy. The Dome's nestled smack in the middle of the prettiest, -greenest little valley you ever saw." - -"I know," complained Isobar. "And that's what makes it even worse. All -that pretty, soft, green stuff Outside--and we ain't allowed to go out -in it. Sometimes I get so mad I'd like to--" - -"To," interrupted a crisp voice, "what?" - -Isobar spun, flushing; his eyes dropped before those of Dome Commander -Eagan. He squirmed. - -"N-nothing, sir. I was only saying--" - -"I heard you, Jones. And please let me hear no more of such talk, sir! -It is strictly forbidden for anyone to go Outside except in cases of -absolute necessity. Such labor as caused Patrolmen Brown and Roberts to -go, for example--" - -"Any word from them yet, sir?" asked Sparks eagerly. - -"Not yet. But we're expecting them to return at any minute now. Jones! -Where are _you_ going?" - -"Why--why, just back to my quarters, sir." - -"That's what I thought. And what did you plan to do there?" - -Isobar said stubbornly, "Well, I sort of figured I'd amuse myself for a -while--" - -"I thought that, too. And with _what_, pray, Jones?" - -"With the only dratted thing," said Isobar, suddenly petulant, "that -gives me any fun around this dagnabbed place! With my bagpipe." - - * * * * * - -Commander Eagan said, "You'd better find some new way of amusing -yourself, Jones. Have you read General Order 17?" - -Isobar said, "I seen it. But if you think--" - -"It says," stated Eagan deliberately, "'_In order that work or rest -periods of the Dome's staff may not be disturbed, it is hereby ordered -that the playing or practicing of all or any musical instruments must -be discontinued immediately. By order of the Dome Commander_,' That -means you, Jones!" - -"But, dingbust it!" keened Isobar, "it don't disturb nobody for me to -play my bagpipes! I know these lunks around here don't appreciate good -music, so I always go in my office and lock the door after me--" - -"But the Dome," pointed out Commander Eagan, "has an air-conditioning -system which can't be shut off. The ungodly moans of -your--er--so-called musical instrument can be heard through the entire -structure." - -He suddenly seemed to gain stature. - -"No, Jones, this order is final! You cannot disrupt our entire -organization for your own--er--amusement." - -"But--" said Isobar. - -"No!" - -Isobar wriggled desperately. Life on Luna was sorry enough already. -If now they took from him the last remaining solace he had, the last -amusement which lightened his moments of freedom-- - -"Look, Commander!" he pleaded, "I tell you what I'll do. I won't bother -nobody. I'll go Outside and play it--" - -"Outside!" Eagan stared at him incredulously. "Are you mad? How about -the Grannies?" - -Isobar knew all about the Grannies. The only mobile form of life -found by space-questing man on Earth's satellite, their name was an -abbreviation of the descriptive one applied to them by the first Lunar -exployers: Granitebacks. This was no exaggeration; if anything, it was -an understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain low -intelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding and -implacable foe. - -Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had ever -yet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; science -was completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition of -Graniteback physiology--but it was known, from bitter experience, that -the carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of something -harder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could be -penetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame, -by electronic nor ionic wave, nor by the lethal, newly discovered -atomo-needle dispenser. - -All this Isobar knew about the Grannies. Yet: - -"They ain't been any Grannies seen around the Dome," he said, "for -a 'coon's age. Anyhow, if I seen any comin', I could run right back -inside--" - -"No!" said Commander Eagan flatly. "Absolutely, _no_! I have no time -for such nonsense. You know the orders--obey them! And now, gentlemen, -good afternoon!" - -He left. Sparks turned to Isobar, grinning. - -"Well," he said, "one man's fish--hey, Jonesy? Too bad you can't play -your doodlesack any more, but frankly, I'm just as glad. Of all the -awful screeching wails--" - -But Isobar Jones, generally mild and gentle, was now in a perfect -fury. His pale eyes blazed, he stomped his foot on the floor, and from -his lips poured a stream of such angry invective that Riley looked -startled. Words that, to Isobar, were the utter dregs of violent -profanity. - -"Oh, dagnab it!" fumed Isobar Jones. "Oh, tarnation and dingbust! -Oh--_fiddlesticks_!" - - - II - -"And so," chuckled Riley, "he left, bubbling like a kettle on a red-hot -oven. But, boy! was he ever mad! Just about ready to bust, he was." - -Some minutes had passed since Isobar had left; Riley was talking to Dr. -Loesch, head of the Dome's Physics Research Division. The older man -nodded commiseratingly. - -"It is funny, yes," he agreed, "but at the same time it is not -altogether amusing. I feel sorry for him. He is a very unhappy man, our -poor Isobar." - -"Yeah, I know," said Riley, "but, hell, we all get a little bit -homesick now and then. He ought to learn to--" - -"Excuse me, my boy," interrupted the aged physicist, his voice gentle, -"it is not mere homesickness that troubles our friend. It is something -deeper, much more vital and serious. It is what my people call: -_weltschmertz_. There is no accurate translation in English. It means -'world sickness,' or better, 'world weariness'--something like that but -intensified a thousandfold. - -"It is a deeply-rooted mental condition, sometimes a dangerous frame -of mind. Under its grip, men do wild things. Hating the world on which -they find themselves, they rebel in curious ways. Suicide ... mad acts -of valor ... deeds of cunning or knavery...." - -"You mean," demanded Sparks anxiously, "Isobar ain't got all his -buttons?" - -"Not that exactly. He is perfectly sane. But he is in a dark morass -of despair. He may try _anything_ to retrieve his lost happiness, rid -his soul of its dark oppression. His world-sickness is like a crying -hunger--By the way, where is he now?" - -"Below, I guess. In his quarters." - -"Ah, good! Perhaps he is sleeping. Let us hope so. In slumber he will -find peace and forgetfulness." - -But Dr. Loesch would have been far less sanguine had some power the -"giftie gi'en" him of watching Isobar Jones at that moment. - -Isobar was not asleep. Far from it. Wide awake and very much astir, he -was acting in a singularly sinister role: that of a slinking, furtive -culprit. - -Returning to his private cubicle after his conversation with Dome -Commander Eagan, he had stalked straightway to the cabinet wherein was -encased his precious set of bagpipes. These he had taken from their -pegs, gazed upon defiantly, and fondled with almost parental affection. - -"So I can't play you, huh?" he muttered darkly. "It disturbs the peace -o' the dingfounded, dumblasted Dome staff, does it? Well, we'll _see_ -about that!" - -And tucking the bag under his arm, he had cautiously slipped from the -room, down little-used corridors, and now he stood before the huge -_impervite_ gates which were the entrance to the Dome and the doorway -to Outside. - -On all save those occasions when a spacecraft landed in the cradle -adjacent the gateway, these portals were doubly locked and barred. But -today they had been unbolted that the two maintenance men might venture -out. And since it was quite possible that Brown and Roberts might have -to get inside in a hurry, their bolts remained drawn. Sole guardian of -the entrance was a very bored Junior Patrolman. - -Up to this worthy strode Isobar Jones, confident and assured, exuding -an aura of propriety. - -"Very well, Wilkins," he said. "I'll take over now. You may go to the -meeting." - -Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly. - -"Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?" - -Isobar's eyebrows arched. - -"You mean you haven't been notified?" - -"Notified of _what_?" - -"Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that I -would take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?" - -"I ain't," puzzled Wilkins, "heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought to -call the office, maybe?" - -And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. "That--er--won't -be necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just run -along. I'll watch this entrance for you." - -"We-e-ell," said Wilkins, "if you say so. Orders is orders. But keep a -sharp eye out, Mister Jones, in case Roberts and Brown should come back -sudden-like." - -"I will," promised Isobar, "don't worry." - - * * * * * - -Wilkins moved away. Isobar waited until the Patrolman was completely -out of sight. Then swiftly he pulled open the massive gate, slipped -through, and closed it behind him. - -A flood of warmth, exhilarating after the constantly regulated -temperature of the Dome, descended upon him. Fresh air, thin, but -fragrant with the scent of growing things, made his pulses stir with -joyous abandon. He was Outside! He was Outside, in good sunlight, at -last! After six long and dreary months! - -Raptly, blissfully, all thought of caution tossed to the gentle breezes -that ruffled his sparse hair, Isobar Jones stepped forward into the -lunar valley.... - -How long he wandered thus, carefree and utterly content, he could not -afterward say. It seemed like minutes; it must have been longer. He -only knew that the grass was green beneath his feet, the trees were a -lacy network through which warm sunlight filtered benevolently, the -chirrupings of small insects and the rustling whisper of the breezes -formed a tiny symphony of happiness through which he moved as one -charmed. - -It did not occur to him that he had wandered too far from the Dome's -entrance until, strolling through an enchanting flower-decked glade, he -was startled to hear--off to his right--the sharp, explosive bark of a -Haemholtz ray pistol. - -He whirled, staring about him wildly, and discovered that though his -meandering had kept him near the Dome, he had unconsciously followed -its hemispherical perimeter to a point nearly two miles from the -Gateway. By the placement of ports and windows, Isobar was able to -judge his location perfectly; he was opposite that portion of the -structure which housed Sparks' radio turret. - -And the shooting? That could only be-- - -He did not have to name its reason, even to himself. For at that -moment, there came racing around the curve of the Dome a pair of -figures, Patrolmen clad in fatigue drab. Roberts and Brown. Roberts was -staggering, one foot dragged awkwardly as he ran; Brown's left arm, -bloodstained from shoulder to elbow, hung limply at his side, but in -his good right fist he held a spitting Haemholtz with which he tried to -cover his comrade's sluggish retreat. - -And behind these two, grim, grey, gaunt figures that moved with -astonishing speed despite their massive bulk, came three ... six ... a -dozen of those lunarites whom all men feared. The Grannies! - - - III - -Simultaneously with his recognition of the pair, Joe Roberts saw him. A -gasp of relief escaped the wounded man. - -"Jones! Thank the Lord! Then you picked up our cry for help? Quick, -man--where is it? Theres not a moment to waste!" - -"W-where," faltered Isobar feebly, "is _what_?" - -"The tank, of course! Didn't you hear our telecast? We can't possibly -make it back to the gate without an armored car. My foot's broken, -and--" Roberts stopped suddenly, an abrupt horror in his eyes. "You -don't have one! You're here _alone_! Then you didn't pick up our call? -But, why--?" - -"Never mind that," snapped Isobar, "now!" Placid by nature, he could -move when urgency drove. His quick mind saw the immediateness of their -peril. Unarmed, he could not help the Patrolmen fight a delaying action -against their foes, nor could he hasten their retreat. Anyway, weapons -were useless, and time was of the essence. There was but one temporary -way of staving off disaster. "Over here ... this tree! Quick! Up you -go! Give him a lift, Brown--There! That's the stuff!" - -He was the last to scramble up the gnarled bole to a tentative leafy -sanctuary. He had barely gained the security of the lowermost bough -when a thundering crash resounded, the sturdy trunk trembled beneath -his clutch. Stony claws gouged yellow parallels in the bark scant -inches beneath one kicking foot, then the Granny fell back with a thud. -The Graniteback was _not_ a climber. It was far too ungainly, much too -weighty for that. - -Roberts said weakly, "Th-thanks, Jonesy! That was a close call." - -"That goes for me, too, Jonesy," added Brown from an upper bough. -"But I'm afraid you just delayed matters. This tree's O.Q. as long -as it lasts, but--" He stared down upon the gathering knot of -Grannies unhappily--"it's not going to last long with that bunch of -superdreadnaughts working out on it! Hold tight, fellows! Here they -come!" - -For the Grannies, who had huddled for a moment as if in telepathic -consultation, now joined forces, turned, and as one body charged -headlong toward the tree. The unified force of their attack was like -the shattering impact of a battering ram. Bark rasped and gritted -beneath the besieged men's hands, dry leaves and twigs pelted about -them in a tiny rain, tormented fibrous sinews groaned as the aged -forest monarch shuddered in agony. - -Desperately they clung to their perches. Though the great tree bent, it -did not break. But when it stopped trembling, it was canted drunkenly -to one side, and the erstwhile solid earth about its base was broken -and cracked--revealing fleshy tentacles uprooted from ancient moorings! - - * * * * * - -Brown stared at this evidence of the Grannies' power with -terror-fascinated eyes. His voice was none too firm. - -"Lord! Piledrivers! A couple more like that--" - -Isobar nodded. He knew what falling into the clutch of the Grannies -meant. He had once seen the grisly aftermath of a Graniteback feast. -Even now their adversaries had drawn back for a second attack. A sudden -idea struck him. A straw of hope at which he grasped feverishly. - -"You telecast a message to the Dome? Help should be on the way by now. -If we can just hold out--" - -But Roberts shook his head. - -"We sent a message, Jonesy, but I don't think it got through. I've just -been looking at my portable. It seems to be busted. Happened when they -first attacked us, I guess. I tripped and fell on it." - -Isobar's last hope flickered out. - -"Then I--I guess it won't be long now," he mourned. "If we could have -only got a message through, they would have sent out an armored car to -pick us up. But as it is--" - -Brown's shrug displayed a bravado he did not feel. - -"Well, that's the way it goes. We knew what we were risking when we -volunteered to come Outside. This damn moon! It'll never be worth -a plugged credit until men find some way to fight those murderous -stones-on-legs!" - -Roberts said, "That's right. But what are _you_ doing out here, Isobar? -And why, for Pete's sake, the bagpipes?" - -"Oh--the pipes?" Isobar flushed painfully. He had almost forgotten -his original reason for adventuring Outside, had quite forgotten -his instrument, and was now rather amazed to discover that somehow -throughout all the excitement he had held onto it. "Why, I just -happened to--Oh! _the pipes!_" - -"Hold on!" roared Roberts. His warning came just in time. Once more, -the three tree-sitters shook like dried peas in a pod as their leafy -refuge trembled before the locomotive onslaught of the lunar beasts. -This time the already-exposed roots strained and lifted, several -snapped; when the Grannies again withdrew, complacently unaware that -the "lethal ray" of Brown's Haemholtz was wasting itself upon their -adamant hides in futile fury, the tree was bent at a precarious angle. - -Brown sobbed, not with fear but with impotent anger, and in a gesture -of enraged desperation, hurled his now-empty weapon at the retreating -Grannies. - -"No good! Not a damn bit of good! Oh, if there was only some way of -fighting those filthy things--" - -But Isobar Jones had a one-track mind. "The pipes!" he cried again, -excitedly. "That's the answer!" And he drew the instrument into playing -position, bag cuddled beneath one arm-pit, drones stiffly erect over -his shoulder, blow-pipe at his lips. His cheeks puffed, his breath -expelled. The giant lung swelled, the chaunter emitted its distinctive, -fearsome, "_Kaa-aa-o-o-o-oro-oong!_" - -Roberts moaned. - -"Oh, Lord! A guy can't even die in peace!" - -And Brown stared at him hopelessly. - -"It's no use, Isobar. You trying to scare them off? They have no sense -of hearing. That's been proven--" - -Isobar took his lips from the reed to explain. - -"It's not that. I'm trying to rouse the boys in the Dome. We're right -opposite the atmosphere-conditioning-unit. See that grilled duct over -there? That's an inhalation-vent. The portable transmitter's out of -order, and our voices ain't strong enough to carry into the Dome--but -the sound of these pipes is! And Commander Eagan told me just a short -while ago that the sound of the pipes carries all over the building! - -"If they hear this, they'll get mad because I'm disobeyin' orders. -They'll start lookin' for me. If they can't find me inside, maybe -they'll look Outside. See that window? That's Sparks' turret. If we can -make him look out here--" - -"_Stop talking!_" roared Roberts. "Stop talking, guy, and start -blowing! I think you've got something there. Anyhow, it's our last -hope. _Blow!_" - -"And quick!" appended Brown. "For here they come!" - -[Illustration: _Isobar played, blew with all his might, while the -Grannies raged below._] - -He meant the Grannies. Again they were huddling for attack, once more, -a solid phalanx of indestructible, granite flesh, they were smashing -down upon the tree. - -"_Haa-a-roong!_" blew Isobar Jones. - - - IV - -And--even he could not have foreseen the astounding results of -his piping! What happened next was as astonishing as it was -incomprehensible. For as the pipes, filled now and primed to burst into -whatever substitute for melody they were prodded into, wailed into -action--the Grannies' rush came to an abrupt halt! - -As one, they stopped cold in their tracks and turned dull, colorless, -questioning eyes upward into the tree whence came this weird and -vibrant droning! - -So stunned with surprise was Isobar that his grip on the pipes relaxed, -his lips almost slipped from the reed. But Brown's delighted bellow -lifted his paralysis. - -"Sacred rings of Saturn-look! They _like_ it! Keep playing, Jonesy! -Play, boy, like you never played before!" - -And Roberts roared, above the skirling of the _piobaireachd_ into -which Isobar had instinctively swung, "Music hath charms to soothe the -savage beast! Then we were wrong. They _can_ hear, after all! See that? -They're lying down to listen--like so many lambs! Keep playing, Isobar! -For once in my life I'm glad to hear that lovely, wonderful music!" - -Isobar needed no urging. He, too, had noted how the Grannies' attack -had stopped, how every last one of the gaunt grey beasts had suddenly, -quietly, almost happily, dropped to its haunches at the base of the -tree. - -There was no doubt about it; the Grannies _liked_ this music. Eyes -raptly fixed, unblinking, unwavering, they froze into postures of -gentle beatitude. One stirred once, dangerously, as for a moment Isobar -paused to catch his breath, but Isobar hastily lipped the blow-pipe -with redoubled eagerness, and the Granny relapsed into quietude. - -Followed then what, under somewhat different circumstances, should have -been a piper's dream. For Isobar had an audience which would not--and -in two cases _dared_ not--allow him to stop playing. And to this -audience he played over and over again his entire repertoire. Marches, -flings, dances--the stirring _Rhoderik Dhu_ and the lilting _Lassies -O'Skye_, the mournful _Coghiegh nha Shie_ whose keening is like the -sound of a sobbing nation. - -_The Cock o' the North_, he played, and _Mironton_ ... _Wee Flow'r o' -Dee_ and _MacArthur's March_ ... _La Cucuracha_ and-- - -And his lungs were parched, his lips dry as swabs of cotton. Blood -pounded through his temples, throbbing in time to the drone of the -chaunter, and a dark mist gathered before his eyes. He tore the -blow-pipe from his lips, gasped, - -"Keep playing!" came the dim, distant howl of Johnny Brown. "Just a few -minutes longer, Jonesy! Relief is on the way. Sparks saw us from his -turret window five minutes ago!" - -And Isobar played on. How, or what, he did not know. The memory of -those next few minutes was never afterward clear in his mind. All he -knew was that above the skirling drone of his pipes there came another -sound, the metallic clanking of a man-made machine ... an armored tank, -sent from the Dome to rescue the beleaguered trio. - -He was conscious, then, of a friendly voice shouting words of -encouragement, of Joe Roberts calling a warning to those below. - -"Careful, boys! Drive the tank right up beneath us so we can hop in and -get out of here! Watch the Grannies--they'll be after us the minute -Isobar stops playing!" - -Then the answer from below. The fantastic answer in Sparks' familiar -voice. The answer that caused the bagpipes to slip from Isobar's -fingers as Isobar Jones passed out in a dead faint: - -"After you? Those Grannies? Hell's howling acres--_those Grannies are -stone dead_!" - - * * * * * - -Afterward, Isobar Jones said weakly, "But--dead? I don't understand. -Was it the sound-waves that killed them?" - -Commander Eagan said, "No! Grannies absolutely cannot hear. That is -one thing we do know about them--though we will soon know a great deal -more, now that our biologists have a dozen carcasses to dissect, thanks -to you. But Grannies have no auditory apparatus." - -"But then--what?" puzzled Isobar. "It couldn't be vibration, because -our Patrolmen tried shootin' 'em with the vibro-ray pistol, and -nothin' never happened--" - -"Nevertheless," said Dr. Loesch quietly, "it _was_ vibration which -killed them, Isobar. That is, of course, only my conjecture, but I -believe subsequent study will prove I am correct. - -"It was the effect of _dual_, or disharmonic vibration. You see, the -vibro-ray pistol expels an ultrasonic wave which disrupts molecular -construction sensitive to a single harmonic. The Grannies' composition -is more complex. It required the impact of two different wave-lengths, -impinging on their nerve centers at the same moment, to destroy them." - -"And the bagpipe--" said Isobar with slowly dawning -comprehension--"emits two distinct tones at the same time!" - -The full meaning of his words flashed upon Isobar. He turned to -Commander Eagan, sallow cheeks glowing with new color. - -"Then--then what means we've licked our problem!" he cried. "We've -found a weapon that'll kill the Grannies, and it won't be necessary to -live inside Domes no more! Now we can move out into the open and live -like human beings!" - -"Absolutely true!" agreed the Commander. "But _you_ will not be living -Outside, Jones. Not right away, anyway." - -"H-uh? W-hat do you mean, Commander?" - -"I mean," said Eagan sternly, "that regardless of results, you are -still guilty of flagrant disobedience to orders! That, as Commander of -this outpost, I cannot tolerate. You are hereby sentenced to thirty -days confinement to quarters!" - -"But--" stammered Isobar--"but tarnation golly--" - -"In the course of which time," continued Commander Eagan imperturbably, -"you will serve as Instructor for every man in the Dome--at double -salary!" - -"You can't _do_ me like this!" wailed Isobar. "Jinky-wallopers, I -won't--Huh? What's 'at? Instructor? Instructor in _what_?" - -"In the--er--art," said Eagan, "of bagpipe playing. If we are to -rid Luna of the Grannies, we must all learn how to perform on -that--er--lethal weapon. And, Jones, I think I can truthfully say that -this punishment hurts me more than it hurts you!" - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Trouble On Tycho, by Nelson S. 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