Robert Silverberg: Double Dare

“All as a matter of response to challenge,” said Marner. “We didn’t think we could do it until we had to—so we did.”

“I didn’t think you could do it, either,” Plorvash said hoarsely. He walked over and examined the machine closely. “It works, you say? Honestly, now?” His voice was strained.

“Of course,” Marner said indignantly. “We have just one question.” Kemridge pointed to a small black rectangular box buried deep in a maze of circuitry in the original model. “That thing down there—it nearly threw us. We couldn’t get it open and so we had to bypass it and substitute a new system for it. What in blazes is it?”

Plorvash wheeled solidly around to face them. “That,” he said in a strangled voice, “is the power source. It’s a miniature photoelectric amplifier that should keep the model running for—oh, another two weeks or so. Then the jig would have been up.”

“How’s that?” Marner was startled.

“It’s time to explain something to you,” the alien said wearily. “ We don’t have any perpetual-motion machines . You’ve been cruelly hoaxed into inventing one for us. It’s dastardly, but we didn’t really think you were going to do it. It took some of our best minds to rig up the model we gave you, you know.”

Marner drew up a lab stool and sat down limply, white-faced. Kemridge remained standing, his features blank with disbelief.

Marner said, “You mean we invented the thing and you didn’t—you—”

Plorvash nodded. “I’m just as astonished as you are,” he said. He reached for a lab stool himself and sat down. It groaned under his weight.

Kemridge recovered first. “Well,” he said after a moment of silence, “now that it’s all over, we’ll take our machine and go back to Earth. This invalidates the contest, of course.”

“I’m afraid you can’t do that,” Plorvash said. “By a statute enacted some seven hundred years ago, any research done in a Domerangi government lab is automatically government property. Which means, of course, that we’ll have to confiscate your—ahem—project.”

“That’s out of the question!” Marner said hotly.

“And, furthermore, we intend to confiscate you, too. We’d like you to stay and show us how to build our machines.”

“This is cause for war,” Kemridge said. “Earth won’t let you get away with this—this kidnapping!”

“Possibly not. But in view of the way things have turned out, it’s the sanest thing we can do. And I don’t think Earth will go to war over you.”

“We demand to see our Consul,” said Marner.

“Very well,” Plorvash agreed. “It’s within your rights, I suppose.”

The Earth Consul was a white-haired, sturdy gentleman named Culbertson, who arrived on the scene later that day.

“This is very embarrassing for all of us,” the Consul said. He ran his hands nervously down his traditional pin-striped trousers, adjusting the crease.

“You can get us out of it, of course,” Marner said. “That machine is our property and they have no right to keep us prisoners here to operate it, do they?”

“Not by all human laws. But the fact remains, unfortunately, that according to their laws, they have every right to your invention. And by the treaty Of 2716, waiving extraterritorial sovereignty, Earthmen on Domerang are subject to Domerangi laws, and vice versa.” He spread his hands in a gesture of sympathetic frustration.

“You mean we’re stuck here,” Marner said bluntly. He shut his eyes, remembering the nightmare that was the Domerangi equivalent of a bar, thinking of the morbid prospect of spending the rest of his life on this unappetizing planet, all because of some insane dare. “Go on, tell us the whole truth.”

The Consul put the palms of his hands together delicately. “We intend to make every effort to get you off, of course—naturally so, since we owe a very great debt to you two. You realize that you’ve upheld Earth’s pride.”

“Lot of good it did us,” Marner grunted.

“Nevertheless, we feel anxious to make amends for the whole unhappy incident. I can assure you that we’ll do everything in our power to make your stay here as pleasant and as restful as—”

“Listen, Culbertson,” Kemridge said grimly. “We don’t want a vacation here, not even with dancing girls twenty-four hours a day and soft violins in the background. We don’t like it here. We want to go home. You people got us into this—now get us out.”

The Consul grew even more unhappy-looking. “I wish you wouldn’t put it that way. We’ll do all we can.” He paused for a moment, deep in thought, and said, “There’s one factor in the case that we haven’t as yet explored.”

“What’s that?” Marner asked uneasily.

“Remember the two Domerangi engineers who went to Earth on the other leg of this hookup?” The Consul glanced around the lab. “Is this place wired anywhere?”

“We checked,” Kemridge said, “and you can speak freely. What do they have to do with us?”

Culbertson lowered his voice. “There’s a slim chance for you. I’ve been in touch with authorities on Earth and they’ve been keeping me informed of the progress of the two Domerangi. You know they got through their first two projects as easily as you did.”

The two Earthmen nodded impatiently.

The old diplomat smiled his apologies. “I hate to admit this, but it seems the people at the Earth end of this deal had much the same idea the Domerangi did.”

“Perpetual motion, you mean?”

“Not quite,” Culbertson said. “They rigged up a phony anti-gravity machine and told the Domerangi to duplicate it just as was done here. Our psychologies must be similar.”

“And what happened?” Marner asked.

“Nothing, yet,” the Consul said sadly. “But they’re still working on it, I’m told. If they’re as clever as they say they are, they ought to hit it sooner or later. You’ll just have to be patient and sweat it out. We’ll see to it that you’re well taken care of in the meantime, of course, and—”

“I don’t get it. What does that have to do with us?” Marner demanded.

“If they keep at it, they’ll invent it eventually.”

Marner scowled. “That may take years. It may take forever. They may never discover a workable anti-grav. Then what about us?”

The Consul looked sympathetic and shrugged.

A curious gleam twinkled in Kemridge’s eye. He turned to Marner. “Justin, do you know anything about tensor applications and gravitational fields?”

“What are you driving at?” Marner said.

“We’ve got an ideal lab setup here. And I’m sure those two Domerangi down there wouldn’t mind taking credit for someone else’s anti-grav, if they were approached properly. What do you think?”

Marner brightened. “That’s right—they must be just as anxious to get home as we are!”

“You mean,” said the Consul, “you’d build the machine and let us smuggle it to Earth so we could slip it to the Domerangi and use that as a talking-point for a trade and—”

He stopped, seeing that no one was listening to him, and looked around. Marner and Kemridge were at the far end of the lab, scribbling equations feverishly.