compartment shows the same almost-zero pressure the external gauge is indicating," said Rhombus. "Of course, they run through the same microprocessor.
Anyway, the compartment should have filled instantly, given that it was a vacuum before the hatch opened."
Rhombus left the hatch open for a few more seconds, just to be sure, then closed it, and turned the probe around, bringing it back to Starplex.
Once the probe was back in its launching tube, its sample compartments were disengaged and moved by robot arms onto conveyors, which took them down to Jag's lab. Jag, meanwhile, took an elevator there himself.
The containers plugged into jacks on the walls of the lab.
They didn't have to be opened; sensors and cameras could look inside through the jacks.
Jag sat down in his chair--a real handcrafted Waldahud seat, not a polychair--and activated the tall, thin monitors in front of him. He then keyed in a sequence of commands that selected a standard barrage of tests, and watched with growing amazement as the results appeared on his screens.
Spectroscopy: negative findings.
Electromagnetic sweep: negative findings.
Beta decay: none.
Gamma-ray emissions: none.
Screen after screen lit up: negative findings; none; negative findings; none.
He tapped a key, and the scale beneath the testing bay read off the mass of the sample container: 12.782 kilograms.
"Central Computer," called Jag into the air. "Check the spec sheet for this sample container. How much does it mass when empty?"
"The container's mass is 12.782 kilograms," barked PHANTOM in Waldahudar.
Jag swore. "The fardint thing is empty."
"Correct," said PHANTOM.
Jag tapped a key, and a hologram of Rhombus appeared.
"Teklarg," said Jag, calling the Ib by his name in Waldahu-dar, "that probe you sent out was defective. All of the sample material from its number-two container leaked out on the way back."
"Sincere apologies, good Jag," said Rhombus. "I submit to punishment for wasting your time, and will dispatch a replacement at once."
"Do so," said Jag, and he stabbed the button that cut off communications. He turned his attention to the number-one sample container . . . and was shocked to discover that it, too, had leaked out its contents on the way back. "Shoddy human engineering," he grumbled to himself.
But he was grumbling even more once the second probe's sample containers had been conveyed to his lab. The readings were the same--including the anomalously low air-pressure readings after it had dived into the large sphere.
Once again, Jag summoned up a hologram of Rhombus.
"I say with all peaceful good wishes, dear Jag, that there does not appear to be anything wrong with either probe. The container seals are perfect. Nothing should have been able to leak out."
"Regardless, whatever samples we are collecting are getting out," said Jag. "Which means . . . well, which means that whatever the samples are made of must be unusual stuff indeed."
Lights moved up Rhombus's web. "A fair assumption."
Jag slid his dental plates together. "There must be a way to bring some of that material aboard for study."
"Doubtless you have already thought of this," said Rhombus, "and I waste both our time by mentioning the idea, but we could use a force box. You know, like the kind they use in labs for handling antimatter."
Jag lifted his upper shoulders. "Acceptable. But don't use an EM
forcefield; instead, use artificial-gravity fields to hold the contents away from the box's walls, regardless of what acceleration we use."
"Will do, with obeisance," said Rhombus.
The force box was manipulated by tractor beams. It consisted of eight antigrav generators arranged as the corners of a perfect cube, with wide, paddlelike handles sticking off each face's midpoint to give the tractors something to hold on to. The box was pushed into one of the large gray spheres, and opened there. A second box was manipulated into the swarm of gravel between two of the spheres and activated
Anyway, the compartment should have filled instantly, given that it was a vacuum before the hatch opened."
Rhombus left the hatch open for a few more seconds, just to be sure, then closed it, and turned the probe around, bringing it back to Starplex.
Once the probe was back in its launching tube, its sample compartments were disengaged and moved by robot arms onto conveyors, which took them down to Jag's lab. Jag, meanwhile, took an elevator there himself.
The containers plugged into jacks on the walls of the lab.
They didn't have to be opened; sensors and cameras could look inside through the jacks.
Jag sat down in his chair--a real handcrafted Waldahud seat, not a polychair--and activated the tall, thin monitors in front of him. He then keyed in a sequence of commands that selected a standard barrage of tests, and watched with growing amazement as the results appeared on his screens.
Spectroscopy: negative findings.
Electromagnetic sweep: negative findings.
Beta decay: none.
Gamma-ray emissions: none.
Screen after screen lit up: negative findings; none; negative findings; none.
He tapped a key, and the scale beneath the testing bay read off the mass of the sample container: 12.782 kilograms.
"Central Computer," called Jag into the air. "Check the spec sheet for this sample container. How much does it mass when empty?"
"The container's mass is 12.782 kilograms," barked PHANTOM in Waldahudar.
Jag swore. "The fardint thing is empty."
"Correct," said PHANTOM.
Jag tapped a key, and a hologram of Rhombus appeared.
"Teklarg," said Jag, calling the Ib by his name in Waldahu-dar, "that probe you sent out was defective. All of the sample material from its number-two container leaked out on the way back."
"Sincere apologies, good Jag," said Rhombus. "I submit to punishment for wasting your time, and will dispatch a replacement at once."
"Do so," said Jag, and he stabbed the button that cut off communications. He turned his attention to the number-one sample container . . . and was shocked to discover that it, too, had leaked out its contents on the way back. "Shoddy human engineering," he grumbled to himself.
But he was grumbling even more once the second probe's sample containers had been conveyed to his lab. The readings were the same--including the anomalously low air-pressure readings after it had dived into the large sphere.
Once again, Jag summoned up a hologram of Rhombus.
"I say with all peaceful good wishes, dear Jag, that there does not appear to be anything wrong with either probe. The container seals are perfect. Nothing should have been able to leak out."
"Regardless, whatever samples we are collecting are getting out," said Jag. "Which means . . . well, which means that whatever the samples are made of must be unusual stuff indeed."
Lights moved up Rhombus's web. "A fair assumption."
Jag slid his dental plates together. "There must be a way to bring some of that material aboard for study."
"Doubtless you have already thought of this," said Rhombus, "and I waste both our time by mentioning the idea, but we could use a force box. You know, like the kind they use in labs for handling antimatter."
Jag lifted his upper shoulders. "Acceptable. But don't use an EM
forcefield; instead, use artificial-gravity fields to hold the contents away from the box's walls, regardless of what acceleration we use."
"Will do, with obeisance," said Rhombus.
The force box was manipulated by tractor beams. It consisted of eight antigrav generators arranged as the corners of a perfect cube, with wide, paddlelike handles sticking off each face's midpoint to give the tractors something to hold on to. The box was pushed into one of the large gray spheres, and opened there. A second box was manipulated into the swarm of gravel between two of the spheres and activated
Similar Books
