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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #63676 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63676)
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pluto Lamp, by Charles A. Stearns
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this ebook.
-
-Title: The Pluto Lamp
-
-Author: Charles A. Stearns
-
-Release Date: November 08, 2020 [EBook #63676]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed
-             Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PLUTO LAMP ***
-
-
-
-
-                            THE PLUTO LAMP
-
-                          By CHAS. A. STEARNS
-
-            _It was the most outrageous kind of irony that
-           fate, and the Commission of Galactic Astrography,
-           should select such a prime misfit as Knucklebone
-                  Smith to light the lamp of Pluto._
-
-           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
-                       Planet Stories Fall 1954.
-         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
-         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
-
-
-This is really two stories. The first is solar history; the second, the
-mostly true legend of a misfit called Knucklebone Smith.
-
-Knucklebone, so far as anyone could ever determine, was his real
-name--the sin of prankish, or perhaps disillusioned parents. He was
-exactly six feet eight inches tall from the insulated soles of his
-engineering boots to the top of his planeteer's helmet. He never in
-his life weighed more than one hundred sixty-five pounds. His face was
-angular and horse-like, and it had never, within the memory of anyone
-who knew him, contained the slightest vestige of a smile.
-
-He was not nature's first error, nor her last, but he differed from the
-unexceptional many in that he believed in Destiny ... with a capital
-'L.' Throughout a lifetime of unfortunate ventures he remained firm in
-the conviction that sooner or later he would find his own metier and
-become famous. At last he did, and that is the story of Knucklebone
-Smith.
-
-The Pluto Lamp, a relic of the pioneering days of interstellar flight,
-is harder to explain, but easier to believe. It was once as well known
-to spacemen as Rafferty Shoals to the ancient China clippers.
-
-The gulf between the stars was vast and uncharted in those days; still
-a thing of superstitious dread for the planet-bound. But it was no more
-unknown than the solitary planet which tails all the others in its
-dark, millennial path about our own sun. The planetary freighters went
-as far as Uranus and no farther. For the black little planet whose very
-namesake is Hell had nothing to attract them that could not be gotten
-at more conveniently.
-
-The starships passed it by warily, giving it a wide berth, for it had
-an evil reputation. The old scanners were unreliable at best, what with
-the confusing debris that fills space, and more than one ship, through
-miscalculation, swerved from its course, brushing through the magnetic
-field of the unillumined wasteland, and crashed on the hard frozen
-surface of Pluto.
-
-It was inevitable that someone would give birth to the idea of the
-Lamp. It was to be a permanent, unmanned beacon, strategically placed
-on the Dead Planet to warn ships that should have passed in the night,
-but didn't always make it.
-
-A magnificent idea, everyone thought. Everyone, that is, excepting
-Knucklebone Smith.
-
-The very idea of Pluto made him ill. He had set his number twelve
-size feet on all the inner planets at one time or another in the
-disillusioning search for fortune. He had starved and thirsted, baked
-and bled for his dream. But he had always hated and avoided cold. He
-had, in fact, the look of a man born cold, and never entirely warmed.
-
-It was the most outrageous kind of irony, therefore, that fate, and the
-Commission of Galactic Astrography, should select him to light the Lamp.
-
-The latter, at least, was innocent of paradoxical motive. They needed
-a man like Smith. A man planet-wise enough to do the job, and not
-intelligent enough to decline it. There would be another man along, of
-course, to direct, but he presented no problem, for he was Professor
-Salvor-Jones, who had invented the Light, and insisted upon being along
-when it was installed. He was a dedicated man.
-
-Knucklebone Smith, however, was dedicated to something else, and it
-was only his pressing need for money that prodded him into acceptance
-of the offer. He didn't care a fig for the safety of starships. This
-would be a dangerous job at best, decidedly unpleasant at worst. Smith
-didn't mind the danger; he had seen much of it in his wanderings; but
-of unpleasantness he had experienced even more, and being a sybarite
-by nature, in spite of his hard life, he preferred real (but painless)
-peril. He was sure that he would be cold on Pluto. He was right.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The lamp was not really a light, of course, nor did it faintly resemble
-one. What it did, in fact, resemble, was a sleek space cruiser. This
-was wholly misleading, for though it was designed for interplanetary
-travel, it was to be a one-way voyage. Once in the orbit of Pluto
-it would nose down, smash a few feet into the crystalline surface
-of frozen ammonia, and remain there forever, standing on end like a
-lighthouse. It was at this point that it would cease to be a spaceship
-and become a beacon.
-
-At least that was what Professor Salvor-Jones said.
-
-The beacon was three hundred feet long, white in color, for some
-mysterious reason, and had cost the government of Earth something less
-than seventeen million dollars. It was packed with expensive robotic
-equipment, and was designed to be completely self-sustaining, once its
-controls were properly set. It did everything for passing starships
-that could possibly be expected of a well-reared beacon. It cheered
-them on the outward passage, making them feel less lonely. It greeted
-them, like a remote, cold Statue of Liberty upon their return, warned
-them of lurking meteorite storms within the vicinity of their course,
-and advised them of their position with relation to their destination
-when they contacted its sensitive radio. But most important, it warned
-them to steer clear of Pluto.
-
-It very nearly failed before it had begun all this show of monkish
-wayside hospitality, however. It would have failed if it hadn't been
-for Knucklebone Smith.
-
-They cut the beaconship loose from its convoy five hundred miles out,
-which was sufficient for it to spiral in on the minimum of power it
-carried and land safely.
-
-Salvor-Jones and Smith had only to lie in their safety hammocks in the
-cramped temporary passenger cubicle. The ship would land by itself.
-Their duties began once it had established itself firmly on the bleak
-expanse of dark planet below them. They were to adjust the automatic
-controls, make tests, and generally see that the thing was as it should
-be for the lonely vigil that lay ahead.
-
-Three weeks, Salvor-Jones indicated, should be plenty of time for all
-this. When it was finished, they could send a patrol cruiser from
-Ganymede to pick them up.
-
-That was what he said but he was a very zealous man, and doted on
-thoroughness.
-
-The fact was that they were finished with the tests in seven and a half
-hours, and there was nothing to do, unhappily, for the remaining twenty
-days except to entertain themselves as best they could, and wait. It
-might be said that things went too smoothly.
-
-Professor Salvor-Jones was a smallish man with a square mustache of
-regulation black, and a lock of jet hair that hung at times over his
-left eye. He had a perpetual motion machine built into him, and a
-profound contempt for the normal pace of life.
-
-But worst of all, in view of his predicament, he had Knucklebone Smith.
-
-Salvor-Jones finished his checking at 1800 star time and came into the
-living compartment from the chill outer ship, or beacon, as it had now
-become. He blew on his hands, put away his check-sheet board, and stood
-uncertainly, gnawing his thumb and gazing at the spectacle of Smith
-hunkered silently in front of a portable radiant heater. Knucklebone
-was, as usual, the picture of contemplative suicide.
-
-"Well, well," said Salvor-Jones briskly.
-
-Smith made no answer. He swallowed thoughtfully, his Adam's apple
-convulsing, and continued to stare into the glowing sun of the heater.
-
-"We've not much to do from now on, I'm afraid," Salvor-Jones said,
-"until a starship passes within range. Then we'll be able to see how
-well it works."
-
-Smith nodded glumly. He was sulking. He had been assigned to assist,
-but this little man insisted on doing everything himself. Didn't trust
-a damn soul but himself. Pick up a tool and like as not he'd snatch it
-from your hand and leave you standing there watching him. Smith hated
-people like that.
-
-"Play chess?" Salvor-Jones asked.
-
-"I never played chess," Knucklebone Smith said.
-
-"Quite an assortment of games on board," Salvor-Jones said. "Checkers.
-Maybe you'd rather play checkers."
-
-"Never tried it."
-
-"Poker?"
-
-"No."
-
-Salvor-Jones sighed. He got out the animated slide pictures, set up the
-screen, and amused himself at length. The slides were mostly those of
-lightly clad females in warm climates, doing pleasantly idle things.
-
-After the second slide, Knucklebone switched his chair around so that
-his back was to the screen. The girls made him feel too sentimental.
-The blue skies and golden beaches made him homesick.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-On the fifth day Knucklebone Smith was fiddling with a power switch
-and blew out a safety fuse. It required some three hours for Professor
-Salvor-Jones to repair it, but he was glad for the diversion.
-
-On the eighth day Smith was pottering in the pile room with an electric
-torch, making himself a wire bookrack. A lubrication reservoir caught
-on fire and a minor generator was ruined.
-
-On the eleventh day he dropped a hammer from the fidley of the power
-room to the floor, a hundred feet below. A gas line was smashed.
-Salvor-Jones put on a gas mask and went down to fix it. It took quite a
-long while.
-
-On the fourteenth day, without the slightest pretext, Salvor-Jones
-called Knucklebone Smith a meddling fool. Smith hit him once and that
-was that. They didn't speak to each other for four days.
-
-The meteor storm came only three days before their exile was to end. On
-Pluto, where the frozen atmosphere lies inert on the surface, there was
-nothing to stop the rain of debris from space. It sounded like sporadic
-hail on the tough metal hull of the beacon, and their scopes showed the
-mass to be more than a million miles in width, streaming in from the
-direction of Orion.
-
-Salvor-Jones was worried. There was a tiny blip in the lower corner
-of the solar coordinate on the radar screen; a blip that occulted
-with alternating brightness and dimness, in a pattern of unnatural
-regularity. A ship!
-
-Her radio came in an hour later. She announced her name, _Luna Star_,
-and destination, Alpha Centauri. The hail of stones from space was
-getting worse. The beacon was built to stand such stress, but a
-starship, meeting them head on--!
-
-It was a dangerous situation.
-
-Within the Pluto Lamp a hundred relays clicked and buzzed. Automatic
-switches closed. The power pack, deep in the body of the beacon hummed
-with sudden power. Even Knucklebone Smith seemed slightly interested.
-But nothing happened.
-
-The ship's signal came in loud and clear once more. "This is _Luna
-Star_. Come in, robot station Pluto Lamp. Come in Pluto Lamp."
-
-Salvor-Jones sprang for the manual switch and flicked it on. "_Luna
-Star_," he screamed, "Do you read me? This is Pluto Lamp. Do you read
-me?"
-
-"This is _Luna Star_. We understand the robot station is now in
-operation, but manned. Come in if you are there."
-
-"_Luna Star_, do you read me?" They waited a long, tense minute. There
-was no answer. "We're not getting through," Salvor-Jones said.
-
-Knucklebone cleared his throat. "There's a red light on over at the
-emergency panel. Would that have anything to do with it?"
-
-"You imbecile!" Salvor-Jones said, "Why didn't you say so. It's the
-antenna. I knew it. I knew there'd be trouble with the antenna! A
-meteorite must have damaged it."
-
-"I guess this thing ain't going to work," Knucklebone said. "We've been
-here only a couple of weeks, and look what happens. I never thought it
-would be any good anyway."
-
-Salvor-Jones bared his teeth. "There isn't a storm like this one every
-twenty-five years," he growled. "Don't sit there; we've got to go up on
-the dome. No! Stay where you are. I don't want this job botched." He
-began to struggle into his exposure suit.
-
-"If the _Star_ hits it head-on there'll be hell to pay," Knucklebone
-said diffidently. "I was in one of these storms once before on an
-old crate out in the Belt." He got up and stretched his spidery frame
-languidly. Then he went over and took down his impossibly long exposure
-suit from its hook.
-
-"What are you doing?" Salvor-Jones said.
-
-"Guess I'll go with you."
-
-"You're going to play hell," Professor Salvor-Jones said in an
-unscholarly manner. "What good could you possibly be?"
-
-There was a steely glint in Knucklebone Smith's eyes. Later on, at the
-inquiry, Salvor-Jones testified concerning that glint. "Listen," Smith
-said, "I guess I'm sick and tired of you trying to play the big hero
-all alone on this here tub. A body would think I was a moron. They
-picked me out of millions, didn't they? That's Destiny. I guess you
-haven't thought about it, but everybody's got a Destiny--something they
-can do better than anybody else. Everybody's good at something." It was
-a long speech for Knucklebone Smith. There were two red spots of anger
-on his sallow cheeks.
-
-"So I've heard," Salvor-Jones said wryly. "Well, come along, but don't
-say I didn't warn you. It may be the end of us, you know."
-
-Knucklebone snorted. He had walked in the shadow of death before. A man
-had his destiny. Something worthwhile to perform before he kicked off.
-And if he had ever done anything worthwhile he couldn't remember it. He
-zipped up his suit and reached for his helmet.
-
-The roof hatch, massively armored, opened noiselessly on its hydraulic
-supports. The coldness rushed at them, and could not be entirely shut
-out by the suits. Smith shivered throughout his long, skinny body.
-
-Clambering out on the roof of the beacon they became aware of what
-seemed like a strong wind, but what was, in reality, microscopic
-interstellar dust from the storm, traveling at supersonic speed,
-flattening their suits against them.
-
-Here and there a pea-sized pebble clanged against the metal hull like a
-bullet. Crouching in the shelter of the antenna tower, they scanned its
-naked ribs of steel alloy for a break.
-
-At last Salvor-Jones, who knew what he was looking for, found it, six
-feet up, where a meteorite had smashed into the coaxial and shorted it
-against the frame. He climbed up and went to work, cursing to himself
-in his helmet as the death missiles hurtled about him.
-
-It seemed to Salvor-Jones that he had been up there forever, with one
-leg draped over a brace, clumsily working with his heavy gloves. The
-cold was seeping in more and more in spite of the fact that it could
-not have been more than half an hour from the time of his ascent.
-
-He clambered down at last, beating his hands together to restore
-circulation.
-
-Knucklebone Smith, who had done nothing, leaned against the tower
-on the storm side. He was staring fixedly at something out in that
-perpetual night. But there was nothing to see. Only the faint glow of
-the bluish-white methane crystals, swirling through the frozen gullies
-of the rugged terrain; sweeping around the dark ridges as they were
-agitated by the driving stellar dust.
-
-"You'll be killed out there," Salvor-Jones said into his mike. "Get
-behind something, quick!"
-
-Smith said nothing. He just stood there, with his back to Salvor-Jones,
-contemplating the horizon as the storm rippled his uniform. His
-position had not shifted a fraction of an inch. It was this fact
-that frightened Salvor-Jones suddenly. He caught his breath, and
-crept around the edge of the shelter. He reached out and shook his
-assistant's arm.
-
-Knucklebone Smith did not move. There was a gaping hole in the side of
-his helmet where a rock had struck. He had frozen to death, standing up.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-A sudden flurry of unseen particles buffeted Salvor-Jones and bowled
-him over. Something big smashed against the roof hatch with such force
-that the entire beacon shuddered. The lid of the hatch, its braces torn
-from under it, clanged shut. Then the sudden gust abated.
-
-Salvor-Jones crawled over to the escape hatch and looked at it. It was
-slightly askew; there was plenty of room to get his hands under the
-edge of it. He tugged manfully in an effort to slide it aside enough to
-admit him, but in vain. It weighed more than half a ton.
-
-He pried at it with his adjustable wrench but it wouldn't budge. He
-looked around for something longer. There was nothing.
-
-Professor Salvor-Jones realized that he was going to die on Pluto. He
-wished that he believed in prayer.
-
-He read the gage of his heating unit. Not much longer.
-
-He sat down on the hatch, heedless of the silent flak about him. He
-envied Knucklebone Smith over there; the man had never known what hit
-him.
-
-Knucklebone was still standing there, tall against the night, rigidly
-leaning against the superstructure, an impossible caricature of death.
-
-Something clicked in Salvor-Jones's brain. One faint, mad hope. He
-crawled over and tugged at Smith's legs. The tall corpse came crashing
-down on top of him.
-
-He seized one unyielding foot, a big, all-important, boot-clad foot
-that stuck out at just the right angle, and began to drag Knucklebone
-across the width of the dome.
-
-The _Lunar Star_ got through safely. It was turned aside by a last
-minute warning from the Pluto Lamp beacon. This impressed the
-importance of the Lamp in the minds of the authorities, as is attested
-to by history, for it was in service well over one hundred years after
-Salvor-Jones's ordeal.
-
-In Selena City there is a small monument, equally dedicated to the
-two heroes, Salvor-Jones and Smith. For the professor declared that
-Smith had been as much responsible for the success of the Lamp as he,
-himself. Hadn't he saved the day, there at the very last?
-
-As for Knucklebone Smith, his frozen body still lies in simple state on
-Pluto. There is a faint, fixed smile on his face; or presumably there
-is, for Salvor-Jones attests that it was there that night. And it can
-hardly have escaped him now.
-
-For it was just as Knucklebone had always said. Every man is good for
-something.
-
-Even if it is only to be used for a lever.
-
-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PLUTO LAMP ***
-
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-<pre style='margin-bottom:6em;'>The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pluto Lamp, by Charles A. Stearns
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this ebook.
-
-Title: The Pluto Lamp
-
-Author: Charles A. Stearns
-
-Release Date: November 08, 2020 [EBook #63676]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
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-Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed
-             Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PLUTO LAMP ***
-</pre>
-<div class="titlepage">
-
-<h1>THE PLUTO LAMP</h1>
-
-<h2>By CHAS. A. STEARNS</h2>
-
-<p><i>It was the most outrageous kind of irony that<br />
-fate, and the Commission of Galactic Astrography,<br />
-should select such a prime misfit as Knucklebone<br />
-Smith to light the lamp of Pluto.</i></p>
-
-<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br />
-Planet Stories Fall 1954.<br />
-Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br />
-the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p>This is really two stories. The first is solar history; the second, the
-mostly true legend of a misfit called Knucklebone Smith.</p>
-
-<p>Knucklebone, so far as anyone could ever determine, was his real
-name&mdash;the sin of prankish, or perhaps disillusioned parents. He was
-exactly six feet eight inches tall from the insulated soles of his
-engineering boots to the top of his planeteer's helmet. He never in
-his life weighed more than one hundred sixty-five pounds. His face was
-angular and horse-like, and it had never, within the memory of anyone
-who knew him, contained the slightest vestige of a smile.</p>
-
-<p>He was not nature's first error, nor her last, but he differed from the
-unexceptional many in that he believed in Destiny ... with a capital
-'L.' Throughout a lifetime of unfortunate ventures he remained firm in
-the conviction that sooner or later he would find his own metier and
-become famous. At last he did, and that is the story of Knucklebone
-Smith.</p>
-
-<p>The Pluto Lamp, a relic of the pioneering days of interstellar flight,
-is harder to explain, but easier to believe. It was once as well known
-to spacemen as Rafferty Shoals to the ancient China clippers.</p>
-
-<p>The gulf between the stars was vast and uncharted in those days; still
-a thing of superstitious dread for the planet-bound. But it was no more
-unknown than the solitary planet which tails all the others in its
-dark, millennial path about our own sun. The planetary freighters went
-as far as Uranus and no farther. For the black little planet whose very
-namesake is Hell had nothing to attract them that could not be gotten
-at more conveniently.</p>
-
-<p>The starships passed it by warily, giving it a wide berth, for it had
-an evil reputation. The old scanners were unreliable at best, what with
-the confusing debris that fills space, and more than one ship, through
-miscalculation, swerved from its course, brushing through the magnetic
-field of the unillumined wasteland, and crashed on the hard frozen
-surface of Pluto.</p>
-
-<p>It was inevitable that someone would give birth to the idea of the
-Lamp. It was to be a permanent, unmanned beacon, strategically placed
-on the Dead Planet to warn ships that should have passed in the night,
-but didn't always make it.</p>
-
-<p>A magnificent idea, everyone thought. Everyone, that is, excepting
-Knucklebone Smith.</p>
-
-<p>The very idea of Pluto made him ill. He had set his number twelve
-size feet on all the inner planets at one time or another in the
-disillusioning search for fortune. He had starved and thirsted, baked
-and bled for his dream. But he had always hated and avoided cold. He
-had, in fact, the look of a man born cold, and never entirely warmed.</p>
-
-<p>It was the most outrageous kind of irony, therefore, that fate, and the
-Commission of Galactic Astrography, should select him to light the Lamp.</p>
-
-<p>The latter, at least, was innocent of paradoxical motive. They needed
-a man like Smith. A man planet-wise enough to do the job, and not
-intelligent enough to decline it. There would be another man along, of
-course, to direct, but he presented no problem, for he was Professor
-Salvor-Jones, who had invented the Light, and insisted upon being along
-when it was installed. He was a dedicated man.</p>
-
-<p>Knucklebone Smith, however, was dedicated to something else, and it
-was only his pressing need for money that prodded him into acceptance
-of the offer. He didn't care a fig for the safety of starships. This
-would be a dangerous job at best, decidedly unpleasant at worst. Smith
-didn't mind the danger; he had seen much of it in his wanderings; but
-of unpleasantness he had experienced even more, and being a sybarite
-by nature, in spite of his hard life, he preferred real (but painless)
-peril. He was sure that he would be cold on Pluto. He was right.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>The lamp was not really a light, of course, nor did it faintly resemble
-one. What it did, in fact, resemble, was a sleek space cruiser. This
-was wholly misleading, for though it was designed for interplanetary
-travel, it was to be a one-way voyage. Once in the orbit of Pluto
-it would nose down, smash a few feet into the crystalline surface
-of frozen ammonia, and remain there forever, standing on end like a
-lighthouse. It was at this point that it would cease to be a spaceship
-and become a beacon.</p>
-
-<p>At least that was what Professor Salvor-Jones said.</p>
-
-<p>The beacon was three hundred feet long, white in color, for some
-mysterious reason, and had cost the government of Earth something less
-than seventeen million dollars. It was packed with expensive robotic
-equipment, and was designed to be completely self-sustaining, once its
-controls were properly set. It did everything for passing starships
-that could possibly be expected of a well-reared beacon. It cheered
-them on the outward passage, making them feel less lonely. It greeted
-them, like a remote, cold Statue of Liberty upon their return, warned
-them of lurking meteorite storms within the vicinity of their course,
-and advised them of their position with relation to their destination
-when they contacted its sensitive radio. But most important, it warned
-them to steer clear of Pluto.</p>
-
-<p>It very nearly failed before it had begun all this show of monkish
-wayside hospitality, however. It would have failed if it hadn't been
-for Knucklebone Smith.</p>
-
-<p>They cut the beaconship loose from its convoy five hundred miles out,
-which was sufficient for it to spiral in on the minimum of power it
-carried and land safely.</p>
-
-<p>Salvor-Jones and Smith had only to lie in their safety hammocks in the
-cramped temporary passenger cubicle. The ship would land by itself.
-Their duties began once it had established itself firmly on the bleak
-expanse of dark planet below them. They were to adjust the automatic
-controls, make tests, and generally see that the thing was as it should
-be for the lonely vigil that lay ahead.</p>
-
-<p>Three weeks, Salvor-Jones indicated, should be plenty of time for all
-this. When it was finished, they could send a patrol cruiser from
-Ganymede to pick them up.</p>
-
-<p>That was what he said but he was a very zealous man, and doted on
-thoroughness.</p>
-
-<p>The fact was that they were finished with the tests in seven and a half
-hours, and there was nothing to do, unhappily, for the remaining twenty
-days except to entertain themselves as best they could, and wait. It
-might be said that things went too smoothly.</p>
-
-<p>Professor Salvor-Jones was a smallish man with a square mustache of
-regulation black, and a lock of jet hair that hung at times over his
-left eye. He had a perpetual motion machine built into him, and a
-profound contempt for the normal pace of life.</p>
-
-<p>But worst of all, in view of his predicament, he had Knucklebone Smith.</p>
-
-<p>Salvor-Jones finished his checking at 1800 star time and came into the
-living compartment from the chill outer ship, or beacon, as it had now
-become. He blew on his hands, put away his check-sheet board, and stood
-uncertainly, gnawing his thumb and gazing at the spectacle of Smith
-hunkered silently in front of a portable radiant heater. Knucklebone
-was, as usual, the picture of contemplative suicide.</p>
-
-<p>"Well, well," said Salvor-Jones briskly.</p>
-
-<p>Smith made no answer. He swallowed thoughtfully, his Adam's apple
-convulsing, and continued to stare into the glowing sun of the heater.</p>
-
-<p>"We've not much to do from now on, I'm afraid," Salvor-Jones said,
-"until a starship passes within range. Then we'll be able to see how
-well it works."</p>
-
-<p>Smith nodded glumly. He was sulking. He had been assigned to assist,
-but this little man insisted on doing everything himself. Didn't trust
-a damn soul but himself. Pick up a tool and like as not he'd snatch it
-from your hand and leave you standing there watching him. Smith hated
-people like that.</p>
-
-<p>"Play chess?" Salvor-Jones asked.</p>
-
-<p>"I never played chess," Knucklebone Smith said.</p>
-
-<p>"Quite an assortment of games on board," Salvor-Jones said. "Checkers.
-Maybe you'd rather play checkers."</p>
-
-<p>"Never tried it."</p>
-
-<p>"Poker?"</p>
-
-<p>"No."</p>
-
-<p>Salvor-Jones sighed. He got out the animated slide pictures, set up the
-screen, and amused himself at length. The slides were mostly those of
-lightly clad females in warm climates, doing pleasantly idle things.</p>
-
-<p>After the second slide, Knucklebone switched his chair around so that
-his back was to the screen. The girls made him feel too sentimental.
-The blue skies and golden beaches made him homesick.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>On the fifth day Knucklebone Smith was fiddling with a power switch
-and blew out a safety fuse. It required some three hours for Professor
-Salvor-Jones to repair it, but he was glad for the diversion.</p>
-
-<p>On the eighth day Smith was pottering in the pile room with an electric
-torch, making himself a wire bookrack. A lubrication reservoir caught
-on fire and a minor generator was ruined.</p>
-
-<p>On the eleventh day he dropped a hammer from the fidley of the power
-room to the floor, a hundred feet below. A gas line was smashed.
-Salvor-Jones put on a gas mask and went down to fix it. It took quite a
-long while.</p>
-
-<p>On the fourteenth day, without the slightest pretext, Salvor-Jones
-called Knucklebone Smith a meddling fool. Smith hit him once and that
-was that. They didn't speak to each other for four days.</p>
-
-<p>The meteor storm came only three days before their exile was to end. On
-Pluto, where the frozen atmosphere lies inert on the surface, there was
-nothing to stop the rain of debris from space. It sounded like sporadic
-hail on the tough metal hull of the beacon, and their scopes showed the
-mass to be more than a million miles in width, streaming in from the
-direction of Orion.</p>
-
-<p>Salvor-Jones was worried. There was a tiny blip in the lower corner
-of the solar coordinate on the radar screen; a blip that occulted
-with alternating brightness and dimness, in a pattern of unnatural
-regularity. A ship!</p>
-
-<p>Her radio came in an hour later. She announced her name, <i>Luna Star</i>,
-and destination, Alpha Centauri. The hail of stones from space was
-getting worse. The beacon was built to stand such stress, but a
-starship, meeting them head on&mdash;!</p>
-
-<p>It was a dangerous situation.</p>
-
-<p>Within the Pluto Lamp a hundred relays clicked and buzzed. Automatic
-switches closed. The power pack, deep in the body of the beacon hummed
-with sudden power. Even Knucklebone Smith seemed slightly interested.
-But nothing happened.</p>
-
-<p>The ship's signal came in loud and clear once more. "This is <i>Luna
-Star</i>. Come in, robot station Pluto Lamp. Come in Pluto Lamp."</p>
-
-<p>Salvor-Jones sprang for the manual switch and flicked it on. "<i>Luna
-Star</i>," he screamed, "Do you read me? This is Pluto Lamp. Do you read
-me?"</p>
-
-<p>"This is <i>Luna Star</i>. We understand the robot station is now in
-operation, but manned. Come in if you are there."</p>
-
-<p>"<i>Luna Star</i>, do you read me?" They waited a long, tense minute. There
-was no answer. "We're not getting through," Salvor-Jones said.</p>
-
-<p>Knucklebone cleared his throat. "There's a red light on over at the
-emergency panel. Would that have anything to do with it?"</p>
-
-<p>"You imbecile!" Salvor-Jones said, "Why didn't you say so. It's the
-antenna. I knew it. I knew there'd be trouble with the antenna! A
-meteorite must have damaged it."</p>
-
-<p>"I guess this thing ain't going to work," Knucklebone said. "We've been
-here only a couple of weeks, and look what happens. I never thought it
-would be any good anyway."</p>
-
-<p>Salvor-Jones bared his teeth. "There isn't a storm like this one every
-twenty-five years," he growled. "Don't sit there; we've got to go up on
-the dome. No! Stay where you are. I don't want this job botched." He
-began to struggle into his exposure suit.</p>
-
-<p>"If the <i>Star</i> hits it head-on there'll be hell to pay," Knucklebone
-said diffidently. "I was in one of these storms once before on an
-old crate out in the Belt." He got up and stretched his spidery frame
-languidly. Then he went over and took down his impossibly long exposure
-suit from its hook.</p>
-
-<p>"What are you doing?" Salvor-Jones said.</p>
-
-<p>"Guess I'll go with you."</p>
-
-<p>"You're going to play hell," Professor Salvor-Jones said in an
-unscholarly manner. "What good could you possibly be?"</p>
-
-<p>There was a steely glint in Knucklebone Smith's eyes. Later on, at the
-inquiry, Salvor-Jones testified concerning that glint. "Listen," Smith
-said, "I guess I'm sick and tired of you trying to play the big hero
-all alone on this here tub. A body would think I was a moron. They
-picked me out of millions, didn't they? That's Destiny. I guess you
-haven't thought about it, but everybody's got a Destiny&mdash;something they
-can do better than anybody else. Everybody's good at something." It was
-a long speech for Knucklebone Smith. There were two red spots of anger
-on his sallow cheeks.</p>
-
-<p>"So I've heard," Salvor-Jones said wryly. "Well, come along, but don't
-say I didn't warn you. It may be the end of us, you know."</p>
-
-<p>Knucklebone snorted. He had walked in the shadow of death before. A man
-had his destiny. Something worthwhile to perform before he kicked off.
-And if he had ever done anything worthwhile he couldn't remember it. He
-zipped up his suit and reached for his helmet.</p>
-
-<p>The roof hatch, massively armored, opened noiselessly on its hydraulic
-supports. The coldness rushed at them, and could not be entirely shut
-out by the suits. Smith shivered throughout his long, skinny body.</p>
-
-<p>Clambering out on the roof of the beacon they became aware of what
-seemed like a strong wind, but what was, in reality, microscopic
-interstellar dust from the storm, traveling at supersonic speed,
-flattening their suits against them.</p>
-
-<p>Here and there a pea-sized pebble clanged against the metal hull like a
-bullet. Crouching in the shelter of the antenna tower, they scanned its
-naked ribs of steel alloy for a break.</p>
-
-<p>At last Salvor-Jones, who knew what he was looking for, found it, six
-feet up, where a meteorite had smashed into the coaxial and shorted it
-against the frame. He climbed up and went to work, cursing to himself
-in his helmet as the death missiles hurtled about him.</p>
-
-<p>It seemed to Salvor-Jones that he had been up there forever, with one
-leg draped over a brace, clumsily working with his heavy gloves. The
-cold was seeping in more and more in spite of the fact that it could
-not have been more than half an hour from the time of his ascent.</p>
-
-<p>He clambered down at last, beating his hands together to restore
-circulation.</p>
-
-<p>Knucklebone Smith, who had done nothing, leaned against the tower
-on the storm side. He was staring fixedly at something out in that
-perpetual night. But there was nothing to see. Only the faint glow of
-the bluish-white methane crystals, swirling through the frozen gullies
-of the rugged terrain; sweeping around the dark ridges as they were
-agitated by the driving stellar dust.</p>
-
-<p>"You'll be killed out there," Salvor-Jones said into his mike. "Get
-behind something, quick!"</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-  <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p>Smith said nothing. He just stood there, with his back to Salvor-Jones,
-contemplating the horizon as the storm rippled his uniform. His
-position had not shifted a fraction of an inch. It was this fact
-that frightened Salvor-Jones suddenly. He caught his breath, and
-crept around the edge of the shelter. He reached out and shook his
-assistant's arm.</p>
-
-<p>Knucklebone Smith did not move. There was a gaping hole in the side of
-his helmet where a rock had struck. He had frozen to death, standing up.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>A sudden flurry of unseen particles buffeted Salvor-Jones and bowled
-him over. Something big smashed against the roof hatch with such force
-that the entire beacon shuddered. The lid of the hatch, its braces torn
-from under it, clanged shut. Then the sudden gust abated.</p>
-
-<p>Salvor-Jones crawled over to the escape hatch and looked at it. It was
-slightly askew; there was plenty of room to get his hands under the
-edge of it. He tugged manfully in an effort to slide it aside enough to
-admit him, but in vain. It weighed more than half a ton.</p>
-
-<p>He pried at it with his adjustable wrench but it wouldn't budge. He
-looked around for something longer. There was nothing.</p>
-
-<p>Professor Salvor-Jones realized that he was going to die on Pluto. He
-wished that he believed in prayer.</p>
-
-<p>He read the gage of his heating unit. Not much longer.</p>
-
-<p>He sat down on the hatch, heedless of the silent flak about him. He
-envied Knucklebone Smith over there; the man had never known what hit
-him.</p>
-
-<p>Knucklebone was still standing there, tall against the night, rigidly
-leaning against the superstructure, an impossible caricature of death.</p>
-
-<p>Something clicked in Salvor-Jones's brain. One faint, mad hope. He
-crawled over and tugged at Smith's legs. The tall corpse came crashing
-down on top of him.</p>
-
-<p>He seized one unyielding foot, a big, all-important, boot-clad foot
-that stuck out at just the right angle, and began to drag Knucklebone
-across the width of the dome.</p>
-
-<p>The <i>Lunar Star</i> got through safely. It was turned aside by a last
-minute warning from the Pluto Lamp beacon. This impressed the
-importance of the Lamp in the minds of the authorities, as is attested
-to by history, for it was in service well over one hundred years after
-Salvor-Jones's ordeal.</p>
-
-<p>In Selena City there is a small monument, equally dedicated to the
-two heroes, Salvor-Jones and Smith. For the professor declared that
-Smith had been as much responsible for the success of the Lamp as he,
-himself. Hadn't he saved the day, there at the very last?</p>
-
-<p>As for Knucklebone Smith, his frozen body still lies in simple state on
-Pluto. There is a faint, fixed smile on his face; or presumably there
-is, for Salvor-Jones attests that it was there that night. And it can
-hardly have escaped him now.</p>
-
-<p>For it was just as Knucklebone had always said. Every man is good for
-something.</p>
-
-<p>Even if it is only to be used for a lever.</p>
-
-<pre style='margin-top:6em'>
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