Presently the three consoles were sitting on the floor of the repair shop.
“These are the three different types of consoles for motor drives. All other motor consoles are one or another of these types. Now you will have to give me a hand. I am not as strong as I was once.”
Soth closed the door, barring everyone else. He reached up on a shelf and brought down a “poison ore bag.” Jonnie had seen them often enough. They were transparent. They had two very tight armholes you could put your hands and arms into. He thought they were used when one sorted out arsenic compounds used in ore refining.
Soth, with a little help from Jonnie, struggled the ground car console into the bag. Then he stuffed in all the trailing connection wires that had just been severed from the vehicle. He sealed the bag tight. He connected an air hose to the fitting at the bottom and the bag around the console began to inflate.
He picked up a pressure gauge and a tool kit and shoved these through the armholes. Then he put his own arms in and snapped seals around his elbows.
Through the transparent top he watched the pressure gauge he had put in. “One hundred pounds is what you want,” he said.
The bag inflated. The gauge went up to one hundred. He checked his elbow seals. The pressure was holding.
Soth picked up a screwdriver from the kit he had put inside and swiftly took out the screws of the top plate.
Jonnie looked on, fascinated. He had done that once with a tank console and it had promptly ceased to work!
But Soth simply took the screws out. He lifted the top of the console, which contained all the buttons, completely off and bunched the cables which led to it.
He then looked into the console itself. There were all kinds of components in there, but unlike a rig, it had no insulating board. Soth selected a wire with clips on both ends and fastened it on either side of three components to bypass them.
“Pressure fuses,” said Soth. “The whole inside of one of these consoles is carried at high pressure. If the pressure drops, any one of those three fuses expands and blows! If anyone monkeys with the cover, it lets the atmosphere out very silently. That blows these fuses.
“Except for the fuses and the erase-surge components, every thing else you're looking at there is garbage. Sensible seeming. But really just garbage. It has nothing to do with the console operation. I have jumped a wire across the fuses. They will blow and I’ll have to replace them. But the wipe mechanism won't work now. The real circuit is still intact.”
Jonnie was wondering where the real circuit was if that vast area of components was just “garbage.”
But Soth knew what he was doing. He kicked the pressure hose with a foot and the bag deflated. He withdrew his arms and pulled off the fasteners. The bag fell away.
Soth turned the console over. “These buttons would appear to go down, like ordinary keys, and hit the false circuit. But that isn't how it operates. The whole circuit is in the cover. When you push a button, it cuts off an internal light path and makes the circuit operate. Each button works like that.”
A totally hidden circuit, done with molecular alignment in the cover plate. And if you fooled with it, it wiped the circuit out. One cover screw loosened and you had no console anymore.
"Where's some paper?” said Soth. He found a big sheet of it, larger than the console plate. "Where's some powdered iron?” He found some, the dust-like brown-black powder, almost capable of floating in the air, so fine was it.
Soth dusted the powder on the white paper and spread a thin coat of it. Then, struggling to keep the bunched cables from tangling, he laid the console cover right-side up on the paper.
He took some jump wires, found a battery, and linked the battery to the console amid a flash of sparks. He was fixing it so that the cover and buttons would have juice running through it.
Soth exactly positioned the cover on the paper and then rapidly tapped each console button.
Jonnie suddenly understood what he was doing. He held up a hand to prevent Soth from removing the cover. Jonnie got a metal analysis camera off a shelf, stood up on a stool, and shot a picture straight down.
When Jonnie had finished, Soth gently lifted up the cover.
There on the paper, drawn in magnetically grouped iron filings, was the whole circuit! Activated by pushing the buttons, each part of it had grouped the iron filings.
On the removal, a tiny part of it had gotten blurred. But Jonnie had it in the camera. To be sure, he now took another picture of the tiny, thin, brown-black lines.
They had that circuit!
Soth put it all back in the bag, inflated it to a hundred pounds, replaced the blown fuses, checked the plate gasket, and then screwed the console back together.
Two hours later, they had all three types of motor console circuits. They put everything away, called the mechanics, and had the consoles put back in the vehicles and connected.
Jonnie made a test. They all started the motors.
Very different from a firing rig. Very different indeed.
Chapter 7
Back in his room, old Soth was tired and coughing a bit from having overexerted himself this day. Jonnie sat on an improvised bench and waited for him to get his breath.
Eventually Soth said, “I can't dismantle or put together a teleportation shipping rig; only Terl could do that. And I surely can't build one either. So maybe I shouldn't take this contract.” He held it up between a couple of claws, looked at it longingly, and then handed it to Jonnie.
Jonnie couldn't help but wonder how this race might have been if it hadn't been for the catrists messing up their brains.
“No, no,” said Jonnie, pushing it back at him. “You've done fine. In fact, the key you have given me to routine Psychlo mathematics has probably unlocked the door to a parade of inventions Intergalactic was sitting on. You may have helped bring prosperity to many, many worlds.”
“Really?” said Soth. He thought it over. “That's nice. Yes, that's very nice.” He was pondering something.
“You know,” Soth said after a while, “you have something of a security problem too. An awful lot of people of an awful lot of races would do anything to get their hands on Psychlo mathematics and some developments they stole. You know, don't you, that Professor En who developed teleportation was a Boxnard? No? Well he was. Yes, people will be trying to get this data. But I think I can help.”
He thought for quite a while. “Yes, I think I can do it.” He smiled. “Like any hobbyist, I like to fiddle around, and about fifty years ago– I was on a dreadful planet, not even a tree-l set myself the problem of putting Psychlo higher math into a computer. The company and the government would have had fits had it been reported. But I remember the circuits I devised. It would work all right but I’d need some facilities and components.”
A computer! Jonnie had been dreading solving hundreds of thousands of formulas to get whatever inventions they'd found into use. If he had a computer, anyone on his staff could rattle them off!
"If you do that,” said Jonnie, "I’ll give you a million credits out of my own pocket.”
“A million credits?” gawped Soth. “There isn't that much money!” He was fumbling around through his litter of paper. Jonnie thought he was trying to find some reference but then saw he was trying to locate a kerbango saucepan. Soth obviously felt he needed a stimulant! The saucepan was empty and Jonnie got a package of kerbango from his pocket and put it in the pan.
Soth chewed a small bit of it thankfully, remembered his manners, and offered Jonnie some, which was, of course, declined.