Asimov's Mysteries

He prepared objects, all of the same size and appearance but of different weights, and had people throw them, without saying in advance which were heavy and which were light. He found that all the objects were thrown with roughly equal accuracy. This has bothered me a bit, but I have decided that the young man's findings are not strictly applicable. Merely by holding an object in preparation to throwing it, one estimates-quite unconsciously-it's weight and adjusts the muscular effort to correspond, provided one is accustomed to the intensity of the gravity field under which one is operating. Astronauts on their Sights have generally been strapped in and have not operated under low gravity except for short'walks in space.' Apparently these walks have proven surprisingly tiring, so it would seem a change in gravity requires considerable acclimation. And a return to earth's gravity after such acclimation would require considerable re-acclimation. So-as of now, at least-I stand pat with Dr. Urth.

The Talking Stone

The asteroid belt is large and its human occupancy small. Larry Vernadsky, in the seventh month of his year-long assignment to Station Five, wondered with increasing frequency if his salary could possibly compensate for a nearly solitary confinement seventy million miles from Earth. He was a slight youth, who did not bear the look of either a spationautical engineer or an asteroid man. He had blue eyes and butter-yellow hair and an invincible air of i

Both the look of i

The fact that the captain of the Robert Q. met his grins with a stern sour silence that sat heavily on his thick-featured face made no difference. As far as Vernadsky was concerned the ship was yearned-for company and was welcome. It was welcome to any amount of the millions of gallons of ice or any of the tons of frozen food concentrates stacked away in the hollowed-out asteroid that served as Station Five. Vernadsky was ready with any power tool that might be necessary, any replacement that might be required for any hyperatomic motor.

Vernadsky was gri

'How many in your crew, Captain?' asked Vernadsky, as he looked over ship's papers.

The captain said, Two. Now how about looking over the hyperatomics? We've got a shipment to make.' 

His cheeks were blue with dark stubble, his bearing that of a hardened and lifelong asteroid miner, yet his speech was that of an educated, almost a cultured, man.

'Sure.' Vernadsky lugged his diagnostic kit to the engine room, followed by the captain. He tested circuits, vacuum degree, force-field density with easy-going efficiency.

He could not help wondering about the captain. Despite his own dislike for his surroundings he realized dimly that there were some who found fascination in the vast emptiness and freedom of space. Yet he guessed that a man like this captain was not an asteroid miner for the love of solitude alone.

He said, 'Any special type of ore you handle?'

The captain frowned and said, 'Chromium and manganese.' That so?… I'd replace the Je

'Is that what's causing the trouble?'

'No, it isn't. But it's a little beat-up. You'd be risking another failure within a million miles. As long as you've got the ship in here-'

'All right, replace it. But find the stutter, will you?'

'Doing my best, Captain.'

The captain's last remark was harsh enough to abash even Vernadsky. He worked awhile in silence, then got to his feet. 'You've got a gamma-fogged semireflector. Every time the positron beam circles round to its position the drive flickers out for a second. You'll have to replace it.'

'How long will it take?'

'Several hours. Maybe twelve.'

'What? I'm behind schedule.'

'Can't help it.' Vernadsky remained cheerful. There's only so much I can do. The system has to be flushed for three hours with helium before I can get inside. And then I have to calibrate the new semireflector and that takes time. I could get it almost right in minutes, but that's only almost right. You'd break down before you reach the orbit of Mars.'

The captain glowered. 'Go ahead. Get started.'

Vernadsky carefully maneuvered the tank of helium on board the ship. With ship's pseudo-grav generators shut off, it weighed virtually nothing, but it had its full mass and inertia. That meant careful handling if it were to make turns correctly. The maneuvers were all the more difficult since Vernadsky himself was without weight.

It was because his attention was concentrated entirely on the cylinder that he took a wrong turn in the crowded quarters and found himself momentarily in a strange and darkened room.

He had time for one startled shout and then two men were upon him, hustling his cylinder, closing the door behind him.

He said nothing, while he hooked the cylinder to the intake valve of the motor and listened to the soft, soughing noise as the helium flushed the interior, slowly washing absorbed radioactive gases into the all-accepting emptiness of space.

Then curiosity overcame prudence and he said, 'You've got a silicony aboard ship, Captain. A big one.' The captain turned to face Vernadsky slowly. He said in a voice from which all expression had been removed, 'Is that right?'

'I saw it. How about a better look?'

'Why?'

Vernadsky grew imploring. 'Oh, look, Captain, I've been on this rock over half a year. I've read everything I could get hold of on the asteroids, which means all sorts of things about the siliconies. And I've never seen even a little one. Have a heart.'

'I believe there's a job here to do.'

'Just helium-flushing for hours. There's nothing else to be done till that's over. How come you carry a silicony about, anyway, Captain?'

'A pet. Some people like dogs. I like siliconies.'

'Have you got it talking?'

The captain flushed. 'Why do you ask?'

'Some of them have talked. Some of them read minds, even.'