Free Captive of the Centaurianess by Poul Anderson Page B

was indifferent. "What of it?" he said. "Tey may conceibably succeed, in which case we will doubtless be granted a bessel to trabel home in. If tey fail, ten it cannot be a matter of bery much time before te faster-tan-light engine is debeloped independently in te Solar System and somebody arribes here who can take us back."
    "You don't understand," Ray informed him. "These buccaneers count on us as experts. They're bringing us along."
    "Oh. Oh-oh! Tat is different. We better habe suitable armament." The Martian riffled through his papers. "Let me see. I tink equations 549 tro' 627 indicate—yes, here we are. It is possible to project te same type of dribing field as we use for transport in a beam which imparts a desired pseudobelocity bector to an extraneous object. Also . . . look here. Differentiation of tis equation shows tat it would be equally simple to break intranuclear bonds by trowing a selected type of particle into te state, and none oter. Te nucleus would ten separate, wit a net energy release regardless of where it lies on te binding curbe because of te altered potentials."
    Ray regarded him in awe. "You," he breathed, "have just invented the tractor beam, the pressor beam, the disintegrator, and the all-fuel atomic generator."
    "I habe? Is tere money in tem?"
    The man went to work.
     
    Headquartered hereabouts, the three expeditions from Sol had each left behind a considerable amount of supplies, equipment, and operating manuals. The idea had been to accumulate enough material for the establishment of a permanent scientific base—an idea that faster-than-light travel had now made obsolete. Most of this gear was stored in the local temple, where annual sacrifices were made to the digital computer. It took an involved theological argument to get it released. The point that Ormun must be rescued was conceded to be a good one, but not until the high priestess held an earnest private discussion with Dyann, and was hospitalized for a while thereafter, did the stuff become available.
    Meanwhile Ray had been working on design and, with native assistants, some of whom knew a little English or Spanish, getting a team organized. Urushkidan's new principles proved almost dismayingly easy to apply. Everything that wasn't in the depot, native smiths could hammer out, once given the specs. Atomic engines came forth capable of burning anything whatsoever. After consulting the gods, Queen Hiltagar decreed that the fuel be coal. Nobles vied for the honorable job of stokers.
    The engines not only drove ships, but powered weapons such as Urushkidan had made possible. It proved necessary for Ray to call on the Martian for more—radiation screens, artificial gravity (after experiment showed that too many Kathantumans got sick in free fall and barfed), faster-than-light communicators, et cetera. These developments might well have taken years, except that the Martian grew sufficiently exasperated at the interruptions that he tossed off a calculus by which the appropriate circuits could be designed in hours.
    Given this much, the spacecraft proper could be built to quite low standards. They were mere hulks of hardwood, slapped together by carpenters in a matter of weeks, varnished and greased for air tightness. Since the crossing would be made in a few hours, air renewal systems weren't required; it sufficed to have tanks of compressed gas, with leakage to prevent a buildup of excess carbon dioxide. Ray gave most of his attention to features like locks and viewports. Those had better not blow out!
    Still more did he concentrate on the drive circuits. They must be reliable during a trip to Sol and back, with an ample safety margin, but soon thereafter, they must fail. Not wishing the Centaurians ill, despite everything, he gave warning that this would happen, and was glad when it was accepted. Everybody knew that wire gave way after prolonged use, and here these ships were festooned with wires. The prospect of an amazon fleet batting