Orloff tucked his monocle into his vest pocket and said tremulously, ‘But if a force field is the same thing as interatomic forces, why is it that steel has such a strong interatomic binding force without bucking space? There’s a flaw there.’

Prosser eyed him in annoyance. ‘No flaw. Critical strength depends on number of generators. In steel, each atom is a force-field generator. That means about three hundred billion trillion generators for every ounce of matter. If we could use that many – As it is, one hundred generators would be the practical limit. That only raises the critical point to ninety-seven or thereabout.’

He got to his feet and continued with sudden fervor, ‘No. Problem’s over, I tell you. Absolutely impossible to create a force field capable of holding Earth’s atmosphere for more than a hundredth of a second. Jovian atmosphere entirely out of question. Cold figures say that; backed by experiment. Space won’t stand it!

‘Let the Jovians do their damnedest. They can’t get out! That’s final! That’s final! That’s final!’

Orloff said, ‘Mr Secretary, can I send a spacegram anywhere in the Station? I want to tell Earth that I’m returning by the next ship and that the Jovian problem is liquidated – entirely and for good.’

Birnam said nothing, but the relief of his face as he shook hands with the colonial commissioner, transfigured the gaunt homeliness of it unbelievably.

And Dr Prosser repeated, with a birdlike jerk of his head, ‘That’s final!’

Hal Tuttle looked up as Captain Everett of the spaceship Transparent, newest ship of the Comet Space Lines, entered his private observation room in the nose of the ship.

The captain said, ‘A spacegram has just reached me from the home offices at Tucson. We’re to pick up Colonial Commissioner Orloff at Jovopolis, Ganymede, and take him back to Earth.’

‘Good. We haven’t sighted any ships?’

‘No, no! We’re way off the regular space lanes. The first the System will know of us will be the landing of the Transparent on Ganymede. It will be the greatest thing in space travel since the first trip to the Moon.’ His voice softened suddenly, ‘What’s wrong, Hal? This is your triumph, after all.’

Hal Tuttle looked up and out into the blackness of space. ‘I suppose it is. Ten years of work, Sam. I lost an arm and an eye in that first explosion, but I don’t regret them. It’s the reaction that’s got me. The problem is solved; my lifework is finished.’

‘So is every steel-hulled ship in the System.’

Tuttle smiled. ‘Yes. It’s hard to realize, isn’t it?’ He gestured outward. ‘You see the stars? Part of the time, there’s nothing between them and us. It gives me a queazy feeling.’ His voice brooded, ‘Nine years I worked for nothing. I wasn’t a theoretician, and never really knew where I was headed – just tried everything. I tried a little too hard and space wouldn’t stand it. I paid an arm and an eye and started fresh.’

Captain Everett balled his fist and pounded the hull – the hull through which the stars shone unobstructed. There was the muffled thud of flesh striking an unyielding surface – but no response whatever from the invisible wall.

Tuttle nodded, ‘It’s solid enough, now – though it flicks on and off ‘eight hundred thousand times a second. I got the idea from the stroboscopic lamp. You know them – they flash on and off so rapidly that it gives all the impression of steady illumination.

‘And so it is with the hull. It’s not on long enough to buckle space. It’s not off long enough to allow appreciable leakage of the atmosphere. And the net effect is a strength better than steel.’

He paused and added slowly, ‘And there’s no telling how far we can go. Speed up the intermission effect. Have the field flick off and on millions of times per second-billions of times. You can get fields strong enough to hold an atomic explosion. My lifework!’

Captain Everett pounded the other’s shoulder. ‘Snap out of it, man. Think of the landing on Ganymede. The devil! It will be great publicity.

Think of Orloff’s face, for instance, when he finds he is to be the first passenger in history ever to travel in a spaceship with a force-field hull. How do you suppose he’ll feel?’

Hal Tuttle shrugged. ‘I imagine he’ll be rather pleased.’

The Hazing

The Campus of Arcturus University, on Arcturus’ second planet, Eron, is a dull place during mid-year vacations and, moreover, a hot one, so that Myron Tubal, sophomore, found life boring and uncomfortable. For the fifth time that day, he looked in at the Undergraduate Lounge in a desperate attempt at locating an acquaintance, and was at last gratified to behold Bill Sefan, a green-skinned youngster from Vega’s fifth planet.

Sefan, like Tubal, had fl nked Biosociology and was staying through vacation to study for a make-up exam. Things like that weave strong ., bonds between sophomore and sophomore.

Tubal grunted a greeting, dropped his huge hairless body – he was a native of the Arcturian System itself – into the largest chair and said:

‘Have you seen the new freshmen yet?’

‘Already! It’s six weeks before the fall semester starts!’

Tubal yawned. ‘These are a special breed of frosh. They’re the very first batch from the Solarian System – ten of them.’

‘Solarian System? You mean that new system that joined the Galactic Federation three – four years ago?’

‘That’s the one. Their world capital is called Earth, I think.’

‘Well, what about them?’

‘Nothing much. They’re just here, that’s all. Some of them have hair on the upper lip, and very silly it looks, too. Otherwise, they look like any of a dozen or so other breeds of Humanoids.’

It was at this point that the door flew open and little Wri Forase ran in. He was from Deneb’s single planet, and the short, gray fuzz that covered his head and face bristled with agitation, while his large purple eyes gleamed excitedly.

‘Say,’ he twittered breathlessly, ‘have you seen the Earthmen?’

Sefan sighed. ‘Isn’t anyone ever going to change the subject? Tubal was just telling me about them.’

‘He was?’ Forase seemed disappointed. ‘But – but did he tell you these were that abnormal race they made such a fuss over when the Solarian System entered the Federation?’

‘They looked all right to me,’ said Tubal.

‘I’m not talking about them from the physical standpoint,’ said the Denebian disgustedly. ‘It’s the mental aspect of the• case. Psychology! That’s the stuff!’ Forase was going to be a psychologist some day.

‘Oh, that! Well, what’s wrong with them?’

‘Their mob psychology as a race is all wrong,’ babbled Forase. ‘Instead of becoming less emotional with numbers, as is the case with every other type of Humanoid known, they become more emotional! In groups, these Earthmen riot, panic, go crazy. The more there are, the worse it is. So help me, we even invented a new mathematical notation to handle the problem. Look!’

He had his pocket-pad and stylus out in one rapid motion; but Tubal’s hand clamped down upon them before the stylus so much as made a mark.

Tubal said, ‘Whoa! I’ve got a walloping lulu of an idea.’

‘Imagine!’ murmured Sefan.

Tubal ignored him. He smiled again, and his hand rubbed thoughtfully over his bald dome.

‘Listen,’ he said, with sudden briskness. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

Albert Williams, late of Earth, stirred in his sleep and became conscious of a prodding finger exploring the space between his second and third ribs. He opened his eyes, swiveled his head, stared stupidly; then gasped, shot upright, and reached for the light switch.

‘Don’t move,’ said the shadowy figure beside his bed. There was a muted click, and the Earthman found himself centered in the pearly beam of a pocket flash.

He blinked and said, ‘Who the blasted devil are you?’

‘You are going to get out of bed,’ replied the apparition stolidly. ‘Dress, and come with me.’

Williams grinned savagely. ‘Try and make me.’