Massy did not consider himself a scientist, but he winced. Riki raged as they moved over the slippery ice. Her breath was an intermittent cloud about her shoulders. There was white frost on the front of her cold-garments.
He held out his hand quickly as she slipped, once.
“But they’ll beat it!” said Riki in a sort of angry pride. “They’re starting to build more landing-grids, back home. Hundreds of them! Not for ships to land by, but to draw power from the ionosphere! They figure that one ship-size grid can keep nearly three square miles of ground warm enough to live on! They’ll roof over the streets of cities. Then they’ll plant food-crops in the streets and gardens, and do what hydroponic growing they can. They are afraid they can’t do it fast enough to save everybody, but they’ll try!”
Massy clenched his hands inside their bulky mittens.
“Well?” demanded Riki. “Won’t that do the trick?”
Massy said: “No.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“I just took readings on the grid, here. The voltage and the conductivity, of the layer we draw power from, both depend on ionization. When the intensity of sunlight drops, the voltage drops and the conductivity drops, too. It’s harder for less power to flow to the area the grid can tap—and the voltage-pressure is lower to drive it.”
“Don’t say any more!” cried Riki. “Not another word!”
Massy was silent. They went down the last small slope. They passed the opening of the mine—the great drift which bored straight into the mountain. They could look into it. They saw the twin rows of brilliant roof-lights going toward the heart of the stony monster.
They had almost reached the village when Riki said in a stifled voice:
“How bad is it?”
“Very,” admitted Massy. “We have here the conditions the home planet will have in two hundred days. Originally we could draw less than a fifth the power they count on from a grid on Lani II.”
Riki ground her teeth.
“Go on!” she said challengingly.
“Ionization here is down ten per cent,” said Massy. “That means the voltage is down—somewhat more. A great deal more. And the resistance of the layer is greater. Very much greater. When they need power most, on the home planet, they won’t draw more from a grid than we do now. It won’t be enough.”
They reached the village. There were steps to the cold-lock of Herndon’s office-hull. They were ice-free, because like the village walkways they were warmed to keep frost from depositing on them. Massy made a mental note.
In the cold-lock, the warm air pouring in was almost stifling. Riki said defiantly:
“You might as well tell me now!”
“We could draw one-fifth as much power, here, as the same-size grid would yield on your home world, “he said grimly. “We are drawing—call it sixty per cent of normal. A shade over one-tenth of what they must expect to draw when the real cold hits them. But their estimates are nine times too high.” He said heavily, “One grid won’t warm three square miles of city. About a third of one is closer. But—”
“That won’t be the worst!” said Rild in a choked voice. “Is that right? How much good will a grid do?”
Massy did not answer.
The inner cold-lock door opened. Herndon sat at his desk, even paler than before, listening to the hash of noises that came out of the speaker. He tapped on the desktop, quite unconscious of the action. He looked almost desperately at Massy.
“Did she … tell you?” he asked in a numb voice.“They hope to save maybe half the population. All the children, anyhow—”
“They won’t,” said Rild bitterly.
“Better go transcribe the new stuff that’s come in,” said her brother dully. “We might as well know what it says.”
Riki went out of the office. Massy laboriously shed his cold garments. He said uncomfortably:
“The rest of the colony doesn’t know what’s up yet. The operator at the grid didn’t, certainly. But they have to know.”
“We’ll post the message on the bulletin board,” said Herndon apathetically. “I wish I could keep it from them. It’s not fun to live with. I … might as well not tell them just yet.’
“To the contrary,” insisted Massy. “They’ve got to know right away! You’re going to issue orders and they’ll need to understand how urgent they are!”
Herndon looked absolutely hopeless.
“What’s the good of doing anything?” When Massy frowned, he added as if exhausted: “Seriously, is there any use? You’re all right. A Survey ship’s due to take you away. It’s not coming because they know there’s something wrong, but because your job should be finished about now. But it can’t do any good! It would be insane for it to land at home. It couldn’t carry away more than a few dozen refugees, and there are twenty million people who’re going to die. It might offer to take some of us. But … I don’t think many of, us would go. I wouldn’t. I don’t think Riki would.”
“I don’t see—”
“What we’ve got right here,” said Herndon, “is what they’re going to have back home. And worse. But there’s no chance for us to keep alive here! You are the one who pointed it out! I’ve been figuring, and the way the solar-constant curve is going—I plotted it from the figures they gave us—it couldn’t possibly level out until the oxygen, anyhow, is frozen out of the atmosphere here. We aren’t equipped to stand anything like that, and we can’t get equipped. There couldn’t be equipment to let us stand it indefinitely! Anyhow, the maximum cold conditions will last two thousand days back home—six Earth-years. And there’ll be storage of cold in frozen oceans and piled-up glaciers— It’ll be twenty years before home will be back to normal in temperature, and the same here. Is there any point in trying to live—just barely to survive—for twenty years before there’ll be a habitable planet to go back to?”
Massy said irritably:
“Don’t be a fool! Doesn’t it occur to you that this planet is a perfect experiment-station, two hundred days ahead of the home world, where ways to beat the whole business can be tried? If we can beat it here, they can beat it there!”
Herndon said detachedly:
“Can you name one thing to try here?”
“Yes,” snapped Massy. “I want the walk-heaters and the step-heaters outside turned off. They use power to keep walkways clear of frost and doorsteps not slippery. I want to save that heat!”
Herndon said without interest:
“And when you’ve saved it, what will you do with it?”
“Put it underground to be used as needed!” Massy said angrily. “Store it in the mine! I want to put every heating-device we can contrive to work in the mine! To heat the rock! I want to draw every watt the grid will yield and warm up the inside of the mountain while we can draw power to do it with! I want the deepest part of the mine too hot to enter! We’ll lose a lot of heat, of course. It’s not like storing electric power! But we can store heat now, and the more we store the more will be left when we need it!”
Herndon thought heavily. Presently he stirred slightly.
“Do you know, that is an idea—” He looked up. “Back home there was a shale-oil deposit up near the icecaps. It wasn’t economical to mine it. So they put beaters down in bore-holes and heated up the wholeshale deposit! Drill-holes let out the hot oil vapors to be condensed. They got out every bit of oil without disturbing the shale! And then … why … the shale stayed warm for years. Farmers bulldozed soil over it and raised crops with glaciers all around them! That could be done again. They could be storing up heat back home!”