Masters of Space | Page 8

was a diamond drill, too. That seals your doom, boss,
unless ... no, you can't possibly know why I'm here."
"Why, of course I do."
"You just think you do. You see, I've been in love with you ever since,

as a gangling, bony, knobby-kneed kid, I listened to your first doctorate
disputation. Ever since then, my purpose in life has been to land you."

III
"But listen!" he exclaimed. "I can't, even if I want...."
"Of course you can't." Pure deviltry danced in her eyes. "You're the
Director. It wouldn't be proper. But it's Standard Operating Procedure
for simple, innocent, unsophisticated little country girls like me to go
completely overboard for the boss."
"But you can't--you mustn't!" he protested in panic.
Temple Bells was getting plenty of revenge for the shocks he had given
her. "I can't? Watch me!" She grinned up at him, her eyes still dancing.
"Every chance I get, I'm going to hug your arm like I did a minute ago.
And you'll take hold of my forearm, like you did! That can be taken,
you see, as either: One, a reluctant acceptance of a mildly distasteful
but not quite actionable situation, or: Two, a blocking move to keep me
from climbing up you like a squirrel!"
"Confound it, Temple, you can't be serious!"
"Can't I?" She laughed gleefully. "Especially with half a dozen of those
other cats watching? Just wait and see, boss!"
Sandra and her two guests came aboard. The natives looked around; the
man at the various human men, the woman at each of the human
women. The woman remained beside Sandra; the man took his place at
Hilton's left, looking up--he was a couple of inches shorter than
Hilton's six feet one--with an air of ... of expectancy!
"Why this arrangement, Sandy?" Hilton asked.
"Because we're tops. It's your move, Jarve. What's first?"

"Uranexite. Come along, Sport. I'll call you that until ..."
"Laro," the native said, in a deep resonant bass voice. He hit himself a
blow on the head that would have floored any two ordinary men.
"Sora," he announced, striking the alien woman a similar blow.
"Laro and Sora, I would like to have you look at our uranexite, with the
idea of refueling our ship. Come with me, please?"
Both nodded and followed him. In the engine room he pointed at the
engines, then to the lead-blocked labyrinth leading to the fuel holds.
"Laro, do you understand 'hot'? Radioactive?"
Laro nodded--and started to open the heavy lead door!
"Hey!" Hilton yelped. "That's hot!" He seized Laro's arm to pull him
away--and got the shock of his life. Laro weighed at least five hundred
pounds! And the guy still looked human!
Laro nodded again and gave himself a terrific thump on the chest. Then
he glanced at Sora, who stepped away from Sandra. He then went into
the hold and came out with two fuel pellets in his hand, one of which
he tossed to Sora. That is, the motion looked like a toss, but the pellet
traveled like a bullet. Sora caught it unconcernedly and both natives
flipped the pellets into their mouths. There was a half minute of
rock-crusher crunching; then both natives opened their mouths.
The pellets had been pulverized and swallowed.
Hilton's voice rang out. "Poynter! How can these people be
non-radioactive after eating a whole fuel pellet apiece?"
Poynter tested both natives again. "Cold," he reported. "Stone cold. No
background even. Play that on your harmonica!"
* * * * *
Laro nodded, perfectly matter-of-factly, and in Hilton's mind there
formed a picture. It was not clear, but it showed plainly enough a long

line of aliens approaching the Perseus. Each carried on his or her
shoulder a lead container holding two hundred pounds of Navy
Regulation fuel pellets. A standard loading-tube was sealed into place
and every fuel-hold was filled.
This picture, Laro indicated plainly, could become reality any time.
Sawtelle was notified and came on the run. "No fuel is coming aboard
without being tested!" he roared.
"Of course not. But it'll pass, for all the tea in China. You haven't had a
ten per cent load of fuel since you were launched. You can fill up or
not--the fuel's here--just as you say."
"If they can make Navy standard, of course we want it."
The fuel arrived. Every load tested well above standard. Every fuel
hold was filled to capacity, with no leakage and no emanation. The
natives who had handled the stuff did not go away, but gathered in the
engine-room; and more and more humans trickled in to see what was
going on.
Sawtelle stiffened. "What's going on over there, Hilton?"
"I don't know; but let's let 'em go for a minute. I want to learn about
these people and they've