Murray F. Yaco

“ As his alarm grew, he decided that he might at least try to strike up a friendship with someone on board Captain Fromer’s sealed ship—someone who might have something comforting to report. He called up the ship’s navigator.
“This is Hansen. How’re things going up there?”
“Ha!”
“What’s that mean? Good or bad?”
“It means,” the navigator said, while yawning, “that things are falling apart rapidly. In fact, in a day or two I don’t think it’ll make much difference whether or not they open that damn door.” ”

“ A ship was picked up by the spec-spanner, and at their delight at the break in routine, they summoned Arnold up to the cabin.
“Take a good look,” said Banner, “it’s an Ankorbadian ship. Probably the first and last you’ll ever see.” Arnold watched as Banner’s finger tracked a slowly moving point of light across a recessed ceiling screen.
“Yes, sir,” said Harcraft, “you are looking at the representatives of mankind’s only sibling. The noble Ankorbades.” ”

“ About this time the ship turned upsidedown.
“But there’s no reason for it!” the chief engineer said, running alongside Hansen and Candle. “The ship can’t turn upsidedown. Everything is functioning perfectly!”
“Really not interested,” said Candle, running down the corridor’s mile-long ceiling. “Figure something out for yourself for a change.”
“But what I can’t understand,” said Hansen, dutifully trotting alongside, “is how you knew with such certainty how the door mechanism was made. Even if submarines were built like that, you’d have no way of knowing. ”

“ Now, if it's okay with you, I'll get back to the ship and—"
A senator, Filmore by name, at the opposite end of the table jumped to his feet. "You mean you had no intention of contacting us? My God, man, don't you realize what this means to us? For the first time, we have proof that we're not alone in the universe! You can't just—"
Keeter called for silence with an impatient wave of his hand. "Come, come, gentlemen. You're not the only other humanoid race in the galaxy. We don't have time to call on every undeveloped race we happen to run across. ”

“ When can you get us out of here?”
“Plant his seed?” said Quemos.
“There’s nothing salacious about this, I’ve been assured. He simply has a biological craving at this time in his life to—to plant his seed.”
“I got problems like that, too,” Bullard said, “but I don’t go around telling everybody.”
“Stop clowning,” Fromer snapped, “you guys better find a way to fix this damn door or you’ll have a galactic war on your hands. Anybody have any ideas yet?”
“We’re sure that the door mechanism is made of metal,” Quemos said, “and the construction is probably based on the principal of a worm gear.” ”

“ Banner said. He got up from the chair, ran his hands compulsively through his recently short-cropped red hair, hung up the phone and shoved the orders into his co-pilot’s hands.
Harcraft read them over three times, then sank into the chair just vacated by Banner. Finally—while Banner poured them both a drink—he managed to blurt, “Potato fertilizer and tractor fuel—Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no!”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” Banner said bitterly. “We are heroes of the spaceways; yes, indeed. We train for ten years. Acquire great skill in the art of the patrol. ”

“ There are three billion persons on this planet—persons who are well fed, reasonably well educated, persons who owe allegiance to only one government. We're making great strides technologically, too. Within a decade, we'll be established on the moon—our satellite. Why, even our school children are space-minded."
"Sure," said Keeter, who had turned in his chair and was now staring out the window. ”

“ Quemos,” Bullard said when Hansen dropped in on them. “Dr. Quemos is a specialist in the history of technology. He thinks he knows how our cute little door mechanism is made.”
“Can’t say for sure,” Quemos said, “but I’d guess that those components are made of metal—real metal.”
“I thought that metal was used only in jewelry,” Hansen said.
Dr. Quemos grinned slyly. “That’s what most people think. Actually, refined metal of various types was used in large masses, formed masses, for thousands of years. Historically speaking, the pseudo-mets are relatively new.” ”

“ Anyway, the Federation Patrol keeps them pretty well in hand, but occasionally, the Blues—that's our nickname for them since all their ships are blue—do manage to waylay a ship or raid a Federation planet. So naturally, every ship must carry suitable armament; the standard equipment is an R-37ax computor missile—even more complicated for an applicant to manufacture than the reactor fuel. Therefore we provide a sample missile along with our blessings. ”

“ One thousand sleds, in tandem, were in proper orbit two hundred miles above Sedor II. Their orders provided for a landing on the planet and a short ship-leave, at the discretion of the ship’s pilot to refresh personnel.
Banner and Harcraft decided against landing. All necessary contact, now that they were out of hyperdrive, could be accomplished with the ship’s radio. Short planetfalls were, psychologically, more trouble than they were worth, often destroying the hard-earned, delicate space orientation which was their only defense against the abysmal boredom. ”

“ Bullard said.
“Those small round wheels are called gears,” elucidated Quemos, “one gear turns another, which turns another, and so on. I rather imagine that your door is operated on some similar principle.”
“I seem to be the one who asks all the schoolboy questions,” Hansen began, “would somebody tell me why Captain Fromer doesn’t take His Excellency to his home planet, land the ship, and then let his technical staff tear off the door mechanism?”
“We’ve gone through that,” Bullard said wearily. “Unfortunately we need special tools. And there’s no way to get them into the ship.” ”

“ Hansen had only sympathy for the people back at Sector Headquarters, for if these two experts were the Galaxy’s two top trouble-shooters, the Federation, was not, as Hansen put it to himself, in very good shape to fight a war with one hundred billion enraged citizens who worshiped His Exalted Excellency R’thagna Bar almost as much as they did his seed. ”

“ Fuel test?
Keeter: Let me explain, all very simple really. Let's take the case of a planet that seems to be qualified for Federation membership in every respect but one. They don't have interstellar flight. Now—since membership imposes duties requiring commercial, diplomatic and scientific intercourse between member worlds, the applicant must be able, within a comparatively short time, to engineer its own transportation. ”

“ The orders always state that the ‘passenger’ will accompany pilot and co-pilot throughout the entire trip, will obey orders, yet is equal in rank to the ship’s commanding officer. The Bean Brain has no duties aboard. This seems to make sense, at least, since Bean Brains aren’t trained for anything and can’t do anything.”
“Item two,” said Banner, taking his eyes off the ceiling and pointing a finger at Arnold. “I have, or had, two good friends—both patrol captains—who had the honor of taxiing Bean Brains around the universe. One never came back. ”

“ Hansen managed a whistle.
“Furthermore,” Bullard continued, “His Excellency has to be home soon to get there in time for the mating season. This occurs once in a lifetime, I’m told, and this is his only chance to continue the ancestral rule—”
“Wait a minute,” Hansen said. “Are you trying to say that you can’t solve a simple problem like getting him home and getting him out of the ship? You can always cut it in two, can’t you?”
“These ships were made to last forever,” Bullard explained. “The hull is, of course, pseudo-met, but, not the kind of pseudo-met used for other applications. ”

“ Keeter: Oh, that's genetic. We require a specimen, a woman from the applicant's world. She's taken to a Federation laboratory, evaluated genetically, physiologically, psychologically. Our people are able to extrapolate the future racial—and to some degree cultural—development of the entire planet after about two weeks works. ”

“ Under what circumstances can a person as obviously intelligent as Arnold manage not to become a highly specialized member of society? And last, what kind of person can be so revoltingly unspecialized as to know, with fanatical certainty, that the main ingredient of a good potato fertilizer is ammonium nitrate ”

“ It is simply the way that Sector Headquarters feels about Gypsies. Common jealousy, really. It seems that from time to time, our perfect little galactic society spawns men who don’t care to be cast in the common mold. In short, there are a few men around with brains who don’t think that it means very much to wear pretty uniforms or fancy titles.”
“Uniforms like yours?” asked Hansen. ”

“ Keeter: I did. You see, it's a matter of self defense. There are a number of primitive worlds that have developed interstellar flight, but have not achieved the cultural and social levels that would qualify them for membership. As a result, they become rather nasty about this exclusion, and devote themselves to warring against any Federation ship that comes within range. ”