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Updated: May 13, 2025
Sure enough, he got a very faint transmission, on the same bands as before. The cells were talking to each other in their own language. They ignored Mannion even though his transmission must have blanketed everything within several hundred miles. We eventually brought one of them into the cargo lock and started trying different wave-lengths on it.
"This sounds like simple electric current they're talking about, Captain," Mannion said. "They want a battery charge." "They seem to have power to burn," I said. "Why don't they generate their own juice? Ask them; and find out where they learned Interlingua." Mannion sent again; the reply was slow in coming back.
"They acknowledge our insolent demands, but they don't answer them." I thought a moment. "Send this," I said. "We'll out-strut them:" Mannion raised an eyebrow. "That ought to rock them," he said. "They were eager to talk to us," I said. "That means they want something, in my opinion. And all the big talk sounds like a bluff of our own is our best line."
I didn't know what he had, but I liked the idea of putting space between us. My P-Missiles were still armed and locked. Mannion called, "Captain, they say our fright is amusing, and quite justified." I watched the televideo screen for the first sign of an attack. Suddenly the entire screen went white, then blanked.
"Yes, we can assimilate most of it," he said angrily. "There were six samples. Two were gelatinous substances, non-nutritive. Three were vegetable-like, bulky and fibrous, one with a high iodine content; the other was a very normal meaty specimen." "Which should we take?" I said. "Remember your teeth when you answer." "The high protein, the meaty one," he said. "Marked '6'." I keyed for Mannion.
They were hunched over their cups, not talking. I wondered where they stood. Mannion, Communications Officer, was neurotic, but an old Armed Force man. Discipline meant a lot to him. Kirschenbaum, Power Chief, was a joker, with cold eyes, and smarter than he seemed. The question was whether he was smart enough to idealize the stupidity of retreat now. Kramer walked in, not wasting any time.
I sent another query, but the reply was abrupt and told nothing except that Interlingua was of "old knowledge." Then Mannion entered a long technical exchange, getting the details of the kind of electric power they wanted. "We can give them what they want, no sweat, Captain," he said after half an hour's talk. "They want DC; 100 volt, 50 amp will do."
He stared at me sullenly. "I'm releasing you from arrest temporarily on your own parole, Major," I said. "I want you to study the reply to our last transmission, and tell me what you can about it." "Why me?" Kramer said. "I don't know what's going on." I didn't answer him. There was a long tense half hour wait before Mannion copied out the reply that came in a stuttering nasal. He handed it to me.
Do you want a full...." "I just want to know one thing, Kramer," I said. "Can we assimilate these substances, yes or no. If you don't feel like co-operating, I'll have you lashed to your bunk, and injected with them. You claim you're a medical officer; let's see you act like one." I turned my back to him. Mannion called. "They say the juice we fed them was 'amusing, Captain.
"If their receivers are as shaky as their transmitter, they might not be hearing us." We sent for five minutes, then tuned them back in and waited. There was a long silence from their side, then they came back with a long spluttering sing-song. Mannion worked over it for several minutes. "It looks like we're in somebody's back yard," I said.
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