Robert Silverberg: Double Dare

By the time the spaceship had finished jiggling and actually stood firmly on Domerangi soil, Justin Marner was beginning to doubt his sanity.

“We must be crazy,” he said. “We must be.”

The other Earthman, who had been gazing out the viewplate at the green-and-gold alien vista, glanced around suddenly at Marner’s remark. “Huh?”

“There are limits to which one goes in proving a point,” Marner said. He indicated the scene outside. “This little journey exceeds the limits. Now that we’re here, Kemridge, I’m sure of it. Nobody does things like this.”

Kemridge shrugged sourly. “Don’t be silly Justin. You know why we’re here, and you know how come we’re here. This isn’t any time to—”

“All right,” Marner said. “I take it all back.” He stared for a moment at his delicate, tapering fingers—the fingers that could have belonged to a surgeon, were they not the property of a top-rank technical engineer. “Don’t pay any attention to whatever I just said. It’s the strain that’s getting me.”

The door of the cabin chimed melodiously.

“Come in,” said Kemridge.

The door slid open and a Domerangi, clad in a bright yellow sash, gray-green buskins, and a glittering diadem of precious gems, stepped heavily into the cabin. He extended two of his five leathery tentacles in welcome.

“Hello, gentlemen. I see you’ve come through the trip in fine shape.”

“What’s going on now, Plorvash?” Marner asked.

“The ship has landed at a spaceport just outside the city,” the alien said. “I’ve come to take you to your quarters. We’re giving you two the finest accommodations our planet can offer. We want your working conditions to be of the best.”

“Glad to hear it.” Marner flicked a glance at his companion. “They’re most considerate, aren’t they, Dave?”

The taller of the two Earthmen nodded gravely. “Definitely.”

Plorvash grinned. “Suppose you come with me now. You would like to be well rested before you undertake your task. After all, you should be at your best, since planetary pride is at stake.”

“Of course,” Marner said.

“The test will begin as soon as you wish. May I offer you good luck?”

“We won’t need it,” Kemridge stated grimly. “It’s not a matter of luck at all. It’s brains—brains and sweat.”

“Very well,” Plorvash said. “This is what you’re here to prove. It ought to be amusing, in any case—whatever the outcome may be.”

Both Earthmen tried to look calm and confident, absolutely sure of themselves and their skill.

They merely managed to look rigidly worried.

Statisticians have no records on the subject, but it is an observed phenomenon that the most serious differences of opinion generally originate in bars. It had been in a bar at 46th Street and Sixth Avenue that Justin Marner had ill-advisedly had words with a visiting Domerangi, a month before, and it had been in the same bar that the train of events that had brought the two Earthmen to Domerang V had started—and never stopped gaining momentum.

It had been a simple altercation at first. Marner had been reflectively sipping a whisky sour, and Kemridge, seated to his left with his long legs uncomfortably scrunched up, had been toying with a double Scotch. The Domerangi had entered the bar with a characteristically ponderous stride.

Though contact with Domerang V had been made more than a century before, Domerangi were still rare sights in New York. Marner and Kemridge knew this one, though—he was attached to the Domerangi Consulate on 66th Street and Third, and they had had dealings with him a year ago in the matter of some circuit alignments for the building’s lighting system. Domerangi, with their extraordinary peripheral vision, prefer subdued, indirect lighting, and Marner and Kemridge had designed the lighting plot for the Consulate.

The Domerangi spotted them immediately and eased his bulk onto the stool next to them. “Ah, the two clever engineers,” the alien rumbled. “You remember me, of course?”

“Yes,” Marner said quickly. “How’s the lighting job working out?”

“As well as could be expected.” The Domerangi waved toward the bartender. “Barkeep! Two beers, please.”

“What do you mean by that?” Kemridge demanded as the beers were drawn and set on the bar.

“Just one moment, please.” The alien curled two tentacles gently around the beers and poured one into each of the two feeding-mouths at the sides of his face. “Marvelous liquid, your beer. The one point where Earth is clearly superior to Domerang is in brewing.”

“To get back to the lights—” Kemridge prodded.

“Oh, yes,” the alien said. “The lights. Well, they’re a pretty fair job—as good as we could have hoped for from a second-rate technology.”

“Now hold on a minute!” Marner said hotly, and that was how it started.

“I wish we’d kept our mouths shut,” Marner said glumly. He stared balefully at the spotless ceiling of the hotel room in which the Domerangi had installed them.

Kemridge whirled and glared down at the smaller man. “Listen, Justin: we’re here and we’re going to show them up and go home rich and famous. Got that?”

“Okay,” Marner said. He ran a finger along his thin lower lip. “I’m sorry I keep popping off like this. But it does seem screwy to have gone to this extent just to prove a point that came up in a barroom debate.”

“I know. But we wouldn’t have come here if the State Department hadn’t heard about the argument and thought it needed settling. The Domerangi have been acting lordly about their technology as long as we’ve known them. I think it’s a great idea to send a couple of honest-to-Christmas Terran engineers up here to show them once and for all who’s got what it takes.”

“But suppose we don’t show them?”

“We will! Between the two of us, we can match anything they throw at us. Can’t we?”

Marner smiled gloomily. “Sure we can,” he said without conviction. “I haven’t doubted it for one minute.”

Kemridge walked to the door and, with a swift searching motion of his fingers, found the plate that covered the door mechanism. He unclipped it.

“Look in here, for example,” he said, after a moment’s scrutiny. “Simple cybernetic mechanism. I don’t quite figure the way this green ceramic relay down here controls the power flow, but it’s nothing we couldn’t dope out, given a screwdriver and a little spare time.”

Marner stood on tiptoes and peered in. “Perfectly understandable gadget,” be commented. “Not nearly as efficient as our kind, either.”

“That’s just the point,” Kemridge said. “These Domerangi aren’t half the sharks they think they are. We stipulated that we could duplicate anything they gave us, right? With our natural savvy and a little perspiration, we ought to be able to match the best gadget they test us with. If we follow through up here and those two Domerangi engineers on Earth mess up their half of the test, then we’ve done it. The State Department’s counting on our versatility. That’s all we need, Justin—cleverness!”

Marner’s eyes lit up. “Dave, I’m sorry I was so pig-headed a minute ago. We’ll give them the business, all right!”

He stood up a little higher and gingerly extended a hand into the gaping servomechanism in the wall.

“What are you doing?” Kemridge asked.

“Never mind. Get on the phone and tell Plorvash that we’ll be ready to get to work tomorrow. While you’re doing that, I want to fool with this relay. Might as well get some practice now!” He was radiant with new-found enthusiasm.