“Hardly a fair test to cool it off that fast,” he said. “Something’s bound to give.”
Presently he lowered the machine again. This time only ripples marked the contact. Very cautiously Feth forced it still lower, while the others watched silently. Apparently the cold did not matter.
But something else did. Quite suddenly another cloud of steam arose, and a wave of considerable size spread from the place where the torpedo had been. Had been was the right expression; there was no response when the mechanic manipulated the controls to bring it up again. He glanced up, presently.
“It’s a pity that only the cargo compartments of those things are airtight. Apparently the liquid bothers electrical machinery. Maybe it dissolves insulation.” Laj Drai was looking as though he had seen a ghost. He made no direct answer to the mechanic’s remark.
“Ken!” he spoke suddenly, still looking preoccupied. “When you first described this patch of stuff, you said it’s appearance reminded you of the flat country. Right?”
Right.” Ken saw what the drug-runner had in mind.
“Would it — would it be possible for a planet to have so much liquid that three quarters of its surface would be covered?”
“I certainly can’t say it’s impossible. I admit it’s hard to imagine. Any liquid at all — and particularly something as rare as that stuff is with us. Still, this is a larger planet than Sarr, and would have a greater velocity of escape, and is colder, so the average speed of the gas molecules would be slower — let’s see—” His voice trailed off as he became involved in mental arithmetic. “Yes, this planet would hold the stuff easily enough; and hydrogen and oxygen are common elements in the universe. I’m afraid it’s very possible, Drai.” The other did not answer; everyone else knew what he was thinking. When he did speak, Ken felt smug — he had predicted the subject correctly.
“But the flatlanders — could they live in the stuff? — but maybe there aren’t any; the liquid must have destroyed the torpedoes — but their radar beams! We’ve detected those!” He looked at Ken suddenly, as though he had made a telling point in an argument. Ken had been following his thoughts well enough to answer.
“You have no evidence whatever that those beams were not generated by the same race with which you have been trading. I have already pointed out that they are competent astronomers. I think you have been developing a very interesting mythology for the last twenty years, though I admit the idea could do with a little more proof.”