Unspecialist | Page 5

Why should
they leave anybody here? There's not a map in the galaxy that indicates
the position of this piece of rock. And we haven't any weapons."
"I don't suppose the computer--"
"You can't compute an orbit without at least one more reference point.
Besides, we're four weeks from any kind of fleet contact."
"Great. In other words, they'll be back here, ready to roll before we can
even tell anybody that we don't know how to find it again."
"Right. And since there's not any room left to park another ship of that
size, it's a pretty safe assumption that they are ready to roll."
"Armageddon," muttered Harcraft.
"You sure we don't have anything to--"
"Weapons? Yeah. We have a pistol and three small nitro paks in a
locker some place. You couldn't even blow your way inside one of
those ships. And if you could, you'd spend two weeks and then blow
yourself to hell before you'd know anything about the armament."
"O.K., let's land and look around. Go get Arnold."
* * * * *
They cut off the sleds and plunged down, landing between two of the
ships. Before putting on suits, Banner sent Arnold to the locker to get

the three nitro paks. He hoped it would help him overcome the terrible
feeling of nakedness and impotence.
They spent only a little time out of the ship. There was nothing to see
that hadn't been seen before, and the heavy artificial gravity generated
by the alien ships--coupled with a maze of deep crevices--made
walking difficult and dangerous.
Back in the control cabin, Banner turned to Harcraft, "Any ideas?"
"Ideas? You mean for saving Homo sapiens? I'm afraid not. I simply do
not feel up to saving six billion sentient organisms today. I feel--"
"You're getting hysterical," said Banner, whose own tight, small voice
was barely audible.
"I got an opinion," said Arnold. "You guys stop crying for a minute and
I'll tell you."
It took him five minutes to explain the whole thing. When he was
through, both Banner and Harcraft turned him down flat. "Not a
chance," said Banner. It would take a week to set the thing up, and then
it wouldn't work. Our best chance is a long one, but maybe we'll make
it. We're four weeks away from any fleet contact, but it's the only
sensible course of action."
"That makes it a total of eight weeks, with four weeks to get back here.
That's two months," said Arnold. "You think they're gonna wait two
months before they shove out of here?"
"Maybe not," Banner said. "But that's the only thing to do. And the
sooner we get started the better the chances. Let's get going."
"You look here--" Arnold began.
"No more opinions, Bean Brain. You're not entitled to an opinion. You
think we should take your word for everything you told us? Tell me
why. You said yourself you never had any training. So you're guessing

and hoping. It would take a staff of two dozen highly specialized
technicians to even evaluate your idea, much less put it into action. Hell,
man, face it. What do you know about geology, chemistry, mining?
What do you know about anything?"
Arnold pointed a trembling finger at Banner. "Look, I told you that I
know rock. I know plenty of gardening, too. I gave you guys a chance
to say O.K. You still say no? Have it your way, but we'll do it my
way." Both Banner and Harcraft found themselves staring into the
barrel of the ship's only weapon.
Harcraft recovered from his astonishment quicker than Banner. "O.K.,
Bean Brain, have it your way." Quickly, casually he started for the
cabin door. Then, with such speed that Banner hardly saw the
movement, he chopped down viciously toward Arnold's wrist with the
edge of his hand.
Harcraft recovered consciousness a half hour later. "Don't try that again,
little boy," said Arnold with unconcealed hatred. "I'll give you another
thirty minutes to catch your breath. Then we all go to work."
It took ten days instead of seven. Under Arnold's close supervision,
they made the ship perform like a tractor, an air hammer, a foundation
borer and an angledozer.
Once, when they told him that some particular maneuver couldn't be
done, he took the controls himself, and came so close to killing them all
that Banner, out of sheer terror, took over and made it do the things
Arnold decreed necessary.
Finally it was finished. Two million tons of potato fertilizer, one
million tons of tractor fuel combined into a slimy pulp lay jammed into
the largest crevice on the asteroid. A few hours later they were a
thousand miles out in space.
"Now?" asked Banner.
"Now," said Arnold.

With the viewscreen at maximum magnification, they