THE FIRST THING MCCRACKEN DID was shoot a Mercurian native. But then McCracken, although he had powerful muscles, was never supposed to be very strong in the head.
The expedition was in the Twilight Zone, naturally, at the time. Without special clothing, which no one had, both the perpetual night of the Cold Side and the furnace heat of the Hot Side were out of the question. The Twilight Zone at this point was about forty miles wide, and the Astrolight had been skillfully brought down smack in the middle of it. Two hours after the landing, having ascertained that the air was as breathable as Kalinoff had reported, McCracken went out and aimed his explosive bullet at the Mercurian.
If it hadn’t been for Carvalho, who accompanied him, the rest of the group would have known nothing of the incident. It was Carvalho who reported what had happened to Lamoureux, captain of the expedition.
McCracken, of course, burst into vigorous denials that he had shot a native. “You don’t think I’d be fool enough to go around looking for trouble, do you?”
Lamoureux thought he would, but didn’t say so. “You did shoot at something. We heard the report.”
“I tried to hit a dangerous bird.”
“What sort of bird was it?”
“Kind of like a penguin, I’d say, but with a broader face. No bill to speak of—”
“Then don’t speak of it,” snapped Lamoureux. “Did you score a hit?”
“I think the explosion caught it in the shoulder. It got away.”
“Thank God for small favors,” said Lamoureux. “That bird, you pigeon-brain, was a Mercurian. How do you expect intelligent inhabitants of other planets to look? Like you? They’d die of mortification.”
“Damn it, how was I to know?”
“I told you not to shoot unless you were attacked.” Lamoureux scowled. “Kalinoff is somewhere in the Twilight Zone and we were supposed to find him with the help of the Mercurians. It may interest you to know that, while you were out at target practice, some of them came around here and began to behave as if they wanted to be friendly. Then they suddenly disappeared. I imagine they got news of what you had done. A fat lot of help they’ll give us now.”
“We’ll run across Kalinoff without them,” said McCracken confidently.
Carvalho, who had a habit of looking for the dark side of every situation, and finding it, suggested, “Suppose the Mercurians attack us?”
McCracken said, “They haven’t any weapons.”
“How do you know?”
“Kalinoff didn’t mention any.”
Lamoureux emitted a laugh that sounded like an angry bark. “Kalinoff wouldn’t know. He was friendly with them. He did report that they were an intelligent race. It’ll be too bad if they use their intelligence against us.”
McCracken thrust out his jaw. There was a streak of stubbornness in him, and he was not going to take too many dirty cracks lying down. He growled, “I think you’re making a mountain out of an anthill.”
“Molehill,” corrected Lamoureux.
“Whatever it is. What if Kalinoff did say the Mercurians would help us? You can’t take his word for it. Everybody knows what Kalinoff is.”
Lamoureux frowned. “Kalinoff is a great man and a great explorer.”
“They call him the interplanetary screwball.”
“Not on this expedition, they don’t, McCracken. You will please keep a civil tongue in your head.”
“There’s nothing wrong in what I’m saying. Kalinoff is a screwball, and you know it, Captain. He’s always playing practical jokes. Look at how he got that Martian senator into the same cage with a moon-snake, and locked the door on him. The senator had a fit. How was he to know the snake was harmless?”
“You don’t think Kalinoff would play jokes when his own life was at stake, do you?”
“Once a screwball,” insisted McCracken firmly, “always a screwball.”
Lamoureux lost patience. “Once an idiot, always an idiot. Get over to the ship and help with the unpacking. And remember, if we don’t find Kalinoff, it’ll be your fault, and God help you.”
Having, he hoped, left McCracken feeling properly ashamed of himself, Lamoureux walked away. The responsibility was beginning to weigh him down. The other nineteen men in the expedition thought they were merely trying to rescue an intrepid explorer for the sake of human life, which was supposed to be sacred. They didn’t know that, behind his screwball surface, Kalinoff was as shrewd as they came. He had made some valuable discoveries—and promptly staked out a claim to them.
He had run across large quantities of stable isotopes of metals whose atomic numbers ranged from 95 to 110. These had remarkable and useful properties.
They were, to begin with, of unusual value as catalysts in chemical reactions. For example, element 99, in the presence of air, was a more powerful oxidizing agent than platinum or palladium was a reducing agent, in the presence of hydrogen. And the oxidations could be controlled beautifully, could be made to affect almost any part of a complicated organic molecule at a time. Element 99 was recoverable, and could be used again and again. A few hundred grams of it alone might very well pay for the cost of the entire expedition.
Add the value of a few kilos of elements 101 to 110, and Kalinoff had discovered enough to make him and a few other people rich for life.