For hours Virgil Samms sat motionless, almost into his plate. It was not that the view was not seeing—the wonder of space, the ever-changing, constantly-shifting of although points of light, against that of mist-besprinkled black velvet, is a thing that fails to the most observer—but he had a on his mind. He had to solve an problem. How ... how ... HOW he do what he had to do?
Finally, that the time of landing was approaching, he got up, his fans, and through the air of the to a hand-line, along which he himself into the room. He have the in that room, of course, if he had so chosen; but, that officers of space do not like to have in that sanctum, he did not until it was necessary.
Captain Winfield was already at his master plate. Pilots, navigators, and at their tasks.
"I was just going to call you, First Lensman." Winfield a hand in the direction of a chair near his own. "Take the Lieutenant-Captain's station, please." Then, after a minutes: "Go inert, Mr. White."
"Attention, all personnel," Lieutenant-Captain White spoke into a microphone. "Prepare for maneuvering, Class Three. Off."
A bank of red lights upon a green as one. White cut the Bergenholm, Virgil Samms' from a weight of zero to one of five hundred and twenty five pounds—ships of then had no space to waste upon such non-essentials as gravity. Although he was for the and against it, the Lensman's whooshed! out sharply; but, being in what was going on, he a of times, a breaths, and his way up to normalcy.
The Chief Pilot was now at work, with all the virtuoso's skill of his rank and grade; one of the hall-marks of which is to make difficult look easy. He played and and arpeggios—at times glissades—upon and pedals, with the of the to the of the of New York Spaceport at the time of his to the I. V. of the surface of the so below.
Samms into his plate; at the size of that sun, and then at the barren-looking world toward which they were at such speed.
"It doesn't possible ..." he remarked, to Winfield, to himself, "that a sun be that big and that hot. Rigel Four is almost two hundred times as away from it as Earth is from Sol—something like eighteen billion miles—it doesn't look much, if any, than Venus from Luna—yet this world is than the Sahara Desert."
"Well, are big and hot," the captain replied, matter-of-factly, "and their radiation, being mostly invisible, is stuff. And Rigel is about the biggest in this region. There are others a worse, though. Doradus S, for instance, would make Rigel, here, look like a candle. I'm going out there, some of these days, just to take a look at it. But that's of chit-chat—we're to twenty miles of and we've got your city just about stopped."
The Chicago to a halt; upon jets. Samms his and sent along it an exploring, thought. Since he had met a Rigellian in person, he not the image or pattern necessary to en with any one of the race. He did know, however, the type of mind which must be by the with he to talk, and he the Rigellian city until he one. The was so and as to amount almost to no at all, but he could, perhaps, make himself understood.
"If you will this possibly and intrusion," he thought, and slowly, "I would like very much to discuss with you a which should of to all the of all the in space."
"I welcome you, Tellurian." Mind with mind at every one of millions of points and paths. This Rigellian of sociology, at his desk, was physically a ... the oil-drum of a body, the four legs, the multi-branchiate arms, that of a head, the complete of and of ears ... Samms' mind with the monstrosity's as smoothly, as effortlessly, and almost as as it had with his own daughter's!
And what a mind! The poise; the range and scope—the and calm; the quietude; the and certainty; the stability, unknown and to any or near-human race!
"Dismiss all of intrusion, First Lensman Samms ... I have of you beings, of course, but have the possibility of meeting one of you mind to mind. Indeed, it was reported that none of our minds make any the and most with any of yours they to encounter. It is, I now perceive, the Lens which makes this full possible, and it is about the Lens that you are here?"
"It is," and Samms on to in his of what the Galactic Patrol should be and should become. That was easy enough; but when he to in detail the necessary for Lensmanship, he to down. "Force, drive, scope, of ... range ... power ... but above all, an ... an incorruptibility...." He such a mind after meeting it and studying it, but as to it ... It might not be in any place of power or authority. His own, and Rod Kinnison's, to be; but Costigan's was not ... and Knobos and DalNalten had a art....
"I see," the native stated, when it clear that Samms say no more. "It is evident, of course, that I cannot qualify; do I know anyone personally who can. However...."
"What?" Samms demanded. "I was sure, from the of your mind, that you ... but with a mind of such and breadth, such scope and power, you must be incorruptible!"
"I am," came the rejoinder. "We all are. No Rigellian is, or will be or can be, what you think of as 'corrupt' or 'corruptible'. Indeed, it is only by the narrowest, most upon every line of your that I can your meaning into a possible for any of us to understand."
"Then what ... Oh, I see. I was starting at the end. Naturally enough, I suppose, I looked for the in my own race."
"Of course. Our minds have scope and range; and, perhaps, power. But those which you to as 'force' and 'drive' are as among us as is among you. What you know as 'crime' is unknown. We have no police, no government, no laws, no of any kind. We take, always, the line of least resistance. We live and let live, as your runs. We work together for the common good."
"Well ... I don't know what I to here, but not this...." If Samms had been thunderstruck, at a loss, he was then. "You don't think, then, that there is any chance?"
"I have been thinking, and there may be a ... a one, but still a chance," the Rigellian said, slowly. "For instance, that youth, so full of curiosity, who visited your planet. Thousands of us have wondered, to ourselves and to each other, about the of mind which him and others to waste so much time, effort, and upon a project so as exploration. Why, he had to and unknown, and which can be of any use!"
Samms was by the with which the Rigellian all possibility of the usefulness of inter-stellar exploration, but to his purpose.
"However the chance, I must and talk to this man. I he is now out in space somewhere. Have you any idea where?"
"He is now in his home city, and fuel with which to continue his pointless activities. That city is named ... that is, in your English you might call it ... Suntown? Sunberg? No, it must be more ... Rigelsville? Rigel City?"
"Rigelston, I would it?" Samms hazarded.
"Exactly—Rigelston." The marked its upon a map more and more than the which Captain Winfield and his were then studying.
"Thanks. Now, can you and will you in touch with this and ask him to call a meeting of his full and any others who might be in the project I have outlined?"
"I can. I will. He and his are not sane, of course, as you know; but I do not that they are so as to be to themselves to the of your vessel."
"They will not be asked to come here. The meeting will be in Rigelston. If necessary, I shall that it be there."
"You would? I that you would. It is ... yes, ... you are quarrelsome, pugnacious, anti-social, vicious, small-bodied and small-brained; timid, nervous, and and excitable; and unsane; as as you are physically...." These were sent as and as as though the were the weather. He paused, then on: "And yet, to such a project, you are to to I not myself, under any whatever, to meet. It may be ... it must be true that there is an of the of together for the common good which my mind, for of data, has not been able to grasp. I am now en with Dronvire the explorer."
"Ask him, please, not to identify himself to me. I do not want to go into that meeting with any preconceived ideas."
"A thought," the Rigellian approved. "Someone will be at the to point out to you the already area in which the space-ship of the makes its so-frightful landings; Dronvire will ask someone to meet you at the and you to the place of meeting."
The line and Samms a white and to the Chicago's captain.
"God, what a strain! Don't try unless you positively have to—especially not with such an different as these Rigellians are!"
"Don't worry; I won't." Winfield's were not at all sympathetic, but his was. "You looked as though somebody was your out with a club. Where next, First Lensman?"
Samms marked the of Rigelston upon the vessel's chart, then ear-plugs and a special, radiation-proof of armor, with and with extra-thick of lead to protect the eyes.
The airport, an one well the city proper, was easily enough, as was the spot upon which the Tellurian ship was to land. Lightly, slowly, she settled downward, her out against a twice that of her native Earth. Those blasts, however, added little or nothing to the already by the then there—a torpedo-shaped having one-twentieth of the Chicago's and bulk.
The landed, into the hard, ground to a of some ten or fifteen she stopped. Samms, en with the who was to be his escort, a survey of the mind so in with his own. No use. This one was not and Lensman material. He the ladder. This double-normal the going a difficult, but he that a than some of the other he was going to have to take. The Rigellian of an was there, waiting for him, its door open.
Samms had known—in general—what to expect. The two-wheeled was more or less to that of his own Dillingham. The was a narrow of steel, pointed at ends, and without windows. Two features, however, were and unpleasant—the hard, of which that was was an and a thick, of one-sixteenth; and that was and and marred, about the and quarters, as and as and as as are the of an Earthly jalopy!
The Lensman climbed, not easily or joyously, into that black interior. Black? It was so black that the port-hole-like to admit no light at all. It was than a witch's cat in a at midnight! Samms flinched; then, stiffening, at the driver.
"My with you to have slipped. I'm that I will have to to you more than may be either or comfortable. Deprived of sight, and without your of perception, I am helpless."
"Come in, Lensman, by all means. I offered to maintain full engagement, but it to me that you it; possibly the was to our with each others' mode of thought. Relax, please, and come in ... there! Better?"
"Infinitely better. Thanks."
And it was. The vanished; through the of the Rigellian he "see" everything—he had a perfect three-dimensional view of the entire sphere. He see the and the of the ground car he was in and of the space-ship in which he had come to Rigel IV. He see the and the wrist-pins of the internal-combustion engine of the car, the of the that the plates together, the outside, and into the ground. He see and study in detail the deepest-buried, most parts of the of the Chicago.
But he was time. He also see a deeply-cushioned chair, designed to fit a body, to a and with a dozen straps. He sat quickly; himself in.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
The door with a which through space-suit and ear-plugs with all the of a thunderclap. And that was the beginning. The engine started—an internal-combustion engine of well over a thousand horsepower, designed for maximum by in there were no of any English to noise, or to sound. The car took off; with an which the Tellurian backward, into the cushions. The of and the of the engine to an which, by and the of metal, to the very brain the Lensman's skull.
"You suffer!" the driver exclaimed, in high concern. "They me to start and stop gently, to drive slowly and carefully, to softly. They told me you are and fragile, a which I for myself and which has me to drive with the possible and restraint. Is the fault mine? Have I been too rough?"
"Not at all. It isn't that. It's the noise." Then, that the Rigellian have no of his meaning, he quickly:
"The in the atmosphere, from sixteen second up to about nine or ten thousand." He what a second was. "My is very to those vibrations. But I them and myself against them as as I could. Nothing can be done about them. Go ahead."
"Atmospheric vibrations? Atmospheric vibrations? Atmospheric vibrations?" The driver marveled, and upon this new while he—
1. Swung around a steel-sheathed at a speed of at least sixty miles hour, it so closely that he one of from the metal.
2. Braked so to miss a that the almost cut Samms' body, space-suit and all, into slices.
3. Darted into a in the traffic so narrow that only of his Juggernaut from an on one and another vehicle on the other.
4. Executed a double-right-angle curve, thus missing by hair's two vehicles traveling in the opposite direction and one in his own.
5. As a to this of driving, he at full speed into a traffic which so full already that it not one more car. But it could—just could. However, of near or hits, this time there were bumps, dents—little ones, nothing at all, really, only an or so deep—and an and of noise.
"I fail to what such have," the Rigellian finally, that anything at all out of the ordinary had occurred. For him, nothing had. "But surely they cannot be of any use?"
"On this world, I am not. No," Samms admitted, wearily. "Here, too, apparently, as everywhere, the big are themselves to death with their own traffic."
"Yes. We and build, but have enough."
"What are those along the streets?" For some time Samms had been of those long, low, structures; to them they were the only non-transparent objects range of the Rigellian's mind. "Or is it something I should not mention?"
"What? Oh, those? By no means."
One of the its opacity. It was with swirling, and of energy so and so solid as to fabric; with objects of and contours; with which Samms found, to his surprise, sense—not through the Rigellian's mind, but through his own Lens:
"EAT TEEGMEE'S FOOD!"
"Advertising!" Samms' was a snort.
"Advertising. You do not yours, either, as you drive?" This was the to be two of the most of the First Galaxy!
The drive continued; the noise and worse. Imagine, if you can, a city of fifteen millions of people, entire length, breadth, height, and no attempt had been to any noise, or piercing! If your has been and if you have enough, the product may what First Lensman Samms was to to that day.
Through ever-thickening traffic, to higher and higher of steel, the Rigellian and its way. Finally it stopped, a thousand or so above the ground, a which was still under construction. The door open. They got out.
And then—it to be at the time—Samms saw a of fighting, colors like no the of had imagined. Reds, yellows, blues, greens, purples, and every and inter-mixture possible; on or on or naturally at perfect random, his as as the all-pervading noise had been his ears.
He then that through his guide's of he had been "seeing" only in of gray, that to these people "visible" light only in wave-length from any other of the complete of vibration.
Strained and tense, the Lensman his along a narrow catwalk, through a upon which and were at work, into a room without and only by after of I-beams. Yet this was the meeting-place; almost a hundred Rigellians were assembled there!
And as Samms walked toward the group a a of of plate, from a of eight or ten feet, upon the directly him.
"I just about jumped right out of my armor," is the way Samms himself his reactions; and that is as good as any.
At any rate, he out of control, and the Rigellian sent him a steadying, inquiring, thought. He no more the Tellurian's than Samms the that to these people, the of physical was incomprehensible. These were not workmen, in the Tellurian sense. They were Rigellians, each his hours week for the common good. They would be no more in with the meeting than would their on the other of the planet.
Samms closed his to the of colors, himself by main to the of sound, himself to every of his mind upon his errand.
"Please with my mind, as many of you as possible," he at the group as a whole, and en with mind after mind after mind. And mind after mind after mind something. Some were than others, had more and drive and urge, but none would do. Until—
"Thank God!" In the of relief, of fulfillment, Samms no longer saw the colors or the din. "You, sir, are of Lensman grade. I that you are Dronvire."
"Yes, Virgil Samms, I am Dronvire; and at long last I know what it is that I have been all my life. But how of these, my other friends? Are not some of them...?"
"I do not know, is it necessary that I out. You will select ..." Samms paused, amazed. The other Rigellians were still in the room, but mentally, he and Dronvire were alone.
"They your thought, and, that it was to be more or less personal, they left us until one of us them to return."
"I like that, and it. You will go to Arisia. You will your Lens. You will return here. You will select and send to Arisia as many or as of your as you choose. These I you, by the Lens of Arisia, to do. Afterward—please note that this is in no obligatory—I would like very much to have you visit Earth and accept to the Galactic Council. Will you?"
"I will." Dronvire needed no time to his decision.
The meeting was dismissed. The same who had been Samms' on the in-bound him to the Chicago, as "slowly" and as "carefully" as before. Nor, this time, did the take such toll, though Samms that each and was adding one more to the already much-too-large almost every square of his hide. He had succeeded, and the of success had its effect.
The Chicago's captain met him in the air-lock and helped him remove his suit.
"Are you sure you're all right, Samms?" Winfield was no longer the captain, but a friend. "Even though you didn't call, we were to wonder ... you look as though you'd been to a Valerian clambake, and I sure as don't like the way you're those and that left leg. I'll tell the boys you got in A-prime shape, but I'll have the doctors look you over, just to make sure."
Winfield the announcement, and through his Lens Samms the of and that spread the great ship with the news. It him immensely. Who was he, that all these boys should so much he or died?
"I'm perfectly all right," Samms protested. "There's nothing at all the with me that twenty hours of sleep won't as good as new."
"Maybe; but you'll go to the sick-bay first, just the same," Winfield insisted. "And I you want me to blast to Tellus?"
"Right. And fast. The Ambassadors' Ball is next Tuesday evening, you know, and that's one I can't away from, with a Class A Double Prime excuse."
