“Wonderful. But what’s the good of that? One and one don’t make seventeen!”
“Not in any logical way, no,” said Leswick. “Logic isn’t the only way to think, though. When we were in the village I was collecting facts about those people. Adding up things about their way of life. And suddenly—in a flash of intuition—I saw the answer. I knew the answer.”
“And Dombey knew there would be those wolf-things parading down the path, I suppose,” Rand said sourly. “Which is why he beat the blazes out of me while you stood by grinning.”
“It was the only way to get you to accept the evidence,” Leswick said. “There wasn’t time for further discussion. So Dombey had to use his fists, or the wolves would have caught up with us. And in the village, I spoke up when I saw the answer. I couldn’t wait to talk it over with you—not with those swords already coming close.”
“I still can’t see any of this, Leswick. This guesswork.”
“I know you can’t. You still prefer logic. Well, your nice neat logic would have turned you into wolf-meat back there. Logic wouldn’t have helped you against those barbed swords, either. And logic wouldn’t have been much good in this situation, either.”
Leswick pointed ahead. The jungle path was splitting. One fork went off to the left, the other to the right.
Which fork led to the beacon?
The aliens knew. They turned off to the left, and the Earthmen followed.
Rand’s cheeks grew hot and red. Score another point for Leswick, he thought. Without the alien guides, they would have become lost here, now that the detector was no good. He wouldn’t have known which fork to take. And it was Leswick who had gained the guides for them.
“I just don’t get it,” Rand went on. “You guessed that the aliens had a society like that of bees. Okay. And it was clever of you to figure out that the Mother was like a queen bee. And to get her sympathy by claiming that the beacon was our Mother, that we were returning to the hive. But how could you tell? How did you know what angles to try?”
“You haven’t studied Metaphysical Synthesis, have you?” Leswick asked suddenly.
“I know a little about it. But—”
“You know enough about it not to like it. But not enough to understand it, obviously—or you’d know how I got my answers.”
“You got them through intuition,” Rand said. “That’s all Metaphysical Synthesis is. Hunches. Guesswork.”
“That’s part of it,” Leswick admitted. “The base.” He grinned. “But Dombey’s something of a Metaphysical Synthesist too, even if he can’t pronounce the words. Ask him what his methods of figuring things out are, some time. Ask him what kind of logic he uses.”
Suddenly Rand got tired of the discussion. He didn’t like where it was heading.
“Skip it,” he said. “You made your point.”
Chapter 15
Late the next day the aliens in front of them stopped short in the path. They began to point and cry out in loud thumping sounds.
“It’s the rescue beacon!” Rand said. “We’ve reached the beacon!”
“Give me the converter,” Leswick told him.
Rand switched the instrument on and handed it to the philosopher. Leswick walked forward. The beacon was a tall metal cone standing in a little opening in the forest.
“There is our Mother,” Leswick announced loudly. “We thank you for your help. You must go back now. You may not approach our Mother more closely.”
For good measure he made the announcement twice more. The aliens bent low to pay respects to the Mother of the Earthmen.
“We wish you well, strange ones,” one of them said. “We hope you return soon to your hive. Farewell.”
“Farewell, and thanks,” Leswick said.
The aliens backed away into the jungle and began to move down the path toward their village. In a few minutes there was no sign of them. The three Earthmen stood together in front of the beacon.
The beacon was an impressive gadget. Rand could see why the aliens might think it was alive. Its bright red pilot light looked like a giant eye. Mounted around its middle were infrared heat-rays to keep the jungle growth from getting too close. Every few weeks the heat-rays turned themselves on, cooking any plant life that was starting to sprout. The beacon was huge, gleaming, awesome.
“So we made it,” Leswick said. “There was a time when I was sure we’d never get here.”
“When was that?” asked Rand.
“When you were leading us in the jungle. I wondered if Dombey and I were going to get control over you in time. Before you fouled us all up, that is. You stopped being of much use about the time we landed on this planet, Rand. You were nothing but a drag—nothing but dead weight.”
“That’s kind of you to tell me.”
“It’s true, though. I mean that logic and technical knowhow can get people only so far.”
Rand scowled. He had tried to run everything as logically and intelligently as he could. But somehow he had come out of the journey looking to Leswick and Dombey like a total idiot. He knew that he wouldn’t have made it here alive without both of them.
“Are you saying that logical thinking is worthless?” he asked.
Leswick shook his head. “Logical thinking is necessary and valuable, Rand. But it doesn’t take you the whole journey. In the jungle, we needed sheer animal instinct. Dombey had it. You didn’t. Dombey can’t do solid geometry, but he’s got survival ability.”
“I suppose so.”
“And in dealing with an alien race, logic doesn’t always work too well either. Not if they don’t think logically too. We needed a kind of logic-plus-intuition. Guesswork, if you like the word. And that’s what Metaphysical Synthesis trains people to use.”
Rand was silent. He kicked the ground in annoyance.
For the first time in his life, he felt his faith in his own ability waver. He had always been so confident that he could take care of himself, no matter what.
Not here, though.
How smug I was! I thought I was the all-important man! I thought Dombey was a dope and Leswick was a fraud. And I’d be dead without both of them now.
It hurt to think about it. Especially when he remembered how he had been putting the other two down, at the beginning. How he had congratulated himself again and again for his brains and his cleverness.
“Well?” Leswick asked.
“Well what?”
“How long are you going to stand there daydreaming?” the little man asked impatiently. “There’s the rescue beacon, you know.”
Rand still paused, tied up in his thoughts.
“We’re waiting for you,” Leswick said. “You don’t think I know how to operate a machine, do you?”
It sounded sarcastic. Maybe it was. Rand smiled faintly and stepped forward to the signal beacon.
The beacon showed signs of half a century’s exposure to the weather. But generally it was in fine shape. Its metal skin was clear and shiny except for a few stains and scratches. The pilot light was on, proving that the beacon was in working order.
Operating the beacon wasn’t really very hard. Even Leswick could have done it. There was a big button in the middle of the beacon’s side. Under it was a long label that declared in many languages:
PRESS TO TALK
Rand pressed the button.
That switched on a special-space transmitter. The transmitter sent an alarm signal to the nearest rescue station.
Almost instantly a deep voice said, “Rescue service speaking. State your name and location.”
“This is Space Engineer Tom Rand, of Earth. I’m on a planet called Tuesday in the system of star number GGC 8788845.”