Triplanetary E. E. Smith (jenna bush book club .txt) 📖

was pointing toward what was evidently a half-submerged city, a city whose buildings were flat-topped, hexagonal towers, exactly alike in size, shape, color, and material. These buildings were arranged as the cells of a honeycomb would be if each cell were separated from its neighbors by a relatively narrow channel of water, and all were built of the same white metal. Many bridges and more tubes extended through the air from building to building, and the watery “streets” teemed with swimmers, with surface craft, and with submarines.

The pilot, stationed immediately below the conical prow of the spaceship, peered intently through thick windows which afforded unobstructed vision in every direction. His four huge and contractile eyes were active, each operating independently in sending its own message to his peculiar but capable brain. One was watching the instruments, the others scanned narrowly the immense, swelling curve of the ship’s belly, the water upon which his vessel was to land, and the floating dock to which it was to be moored. Four hands⁠—if hands they could be called⁠—manipulated levers and wheels with infinite delicacy of touch, and with scarcely a splash the immense mass of the Nevian vessel struck the water and glided to a stop within a foot of its exact berth.

Four mooring bars dropped neatly into their sockets and the captain-pilot, after locking his controls in neutral, released his safety straps and leaped lightly from his padded bench to the floor. Scuttling across the floor and down a runway upon his four short, powerful, heavily scaled legs, he slipped smoothly into the water and flashed away, far below the surface. For Nevians are true amphibians. Their blood is cold; they use with equal comfort and efficiency gills and lungs for breathing; their scaly bodies are equally at home in the water or in the air; their broad, flat feet serve equally well for running about upon a solid surface or for driving their streamlined bodies through the water at a pace few fishes can equal.

Through the water the Nevian commander darted along, steering his course accurately by means of his short, vaned tail. Through an opening in a wall he sped and along a submarine hallway, emerging upon a broad ramp. He scurried up the incline and into an elevator which lifted him to the top of the hexagon, directly into the office of the Secretary of Commerce of all Nevia.

“Welcome, Captain Nerado!” The Secretary waved a tentacular arm and the visitor sprang lightly upon a softly cushioned bench, where he lay at ease, facing the official across his low, flat “desk.” “We congratulate you upon the success of your final trial flight. We received all your reports, even while you were traveling at ten times the velocity of light. With the last difficulties overcome, you are now ready to start?”

“We are ready,” the captain-scientist replied, soberly. “Mechanically, the ship is as nearly perfect as our finest minds can make her. She is stocked for two years. All the iron-bearing suns within reach have been plotted. Everything is ready except the iron. Of course the Council refused to allow us any of the national supply⁠—how much were you able to purchase for us in the market?”

“Nearly ten pounds.⁠ ⁠…”

“Ten pounds! Why, the securities we left with you could not have bought two pounds, even at the price then prevailing!”

“No, but you have friends. Many of us believe in you, and have dipped into our own resources. You and your fellow scientists of the expedition have each contributed his entire personal fortune; why should not some of the rest of us also contribute, as private citizens?”

“Wonderful⁠—we thank you. Ten pounds!” The captain’s great triangular eyes glowed with an intense violet light. “At least a year of cruising. But⁠ ⁠… what if, after all, we should be wrong?”

“In that case you shall have consumed ten pounds of irreplaceable metal.” The Secretary was unmoved. “That is the viewpoint of the Council and of almost everyone else. It is not the waste of treasure they object to; it is the fact that ten pounds of iron will be forever lost.”

“A high price, truly,” the Columbus of Nevia assented. “And after all, I may be wrong.”

“You probably are wrong,” his host made startling answer. “It is practically certain⁠—it is almost a demonstrable mathematical fact⁠—that no other sun within hundreds of thousands of light-years of our own has a planet. In all probability Nevia is the only planet in the entire Universe. We are very probably the only intelligent life in the Universe. There is only one chance in numberless millions that anywhere within the cruising range of your newly perfected spaceship there may be an iron-bearing planet upon which you can effect a landing. There is a larger chance, however, that you may be able to find a small, cold, iron-bearing cosmic body⁠—small enough so that you can capture it. Although there are no mathematics by which to evaluate the probability of such an occurrence, it is upon that larger chance that some of us are staking a portion of our wealth. We expect no return whatever, but if you should by some miracle happen to succeed, what then? Deep seas being made shallow, civilization extending itself over the globe, science advancing by leaps and bounds, Nevia becoming populated as she should be peopled⁠—that, my friend, is a chance well worth taking!”

The Secretary called in a group of guards, who escorted the small package of priceless metal to the spaceship. Before the massive door was sealed the friends bade each other farewell.

“… I will keep in touch with you on the ultra-wave,” the Captain concluded. “After all, I do not blame the Council for refusing to allow the other ship to go out. Ten pounds of iron will be a fearful loss to the world. If we should find iron, however, see to it that she loses no time in following us.”

“No fear of that! If you find iron she will set out at once, and all space will