Like oases in the desert, they
were spaced through the universe
to replenish the electron-thirst
of the giant ships. But Old
Huddleston had seen the problem:
What kind of currency
serves to buy matter from ...
The WELLSPRINGS OF SPACE
By ALBERT TEICHNER
Illustrated by ADKINS
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Amazing Stories October 1961.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The three top scientists had come to describe their greatest triumph to the revered Huddleston; after centuries of bitter disagreement the world's cosmologists were now unanimous in accepting the newly-proposed Lowen-Crane-and-Fitzhugh Hypothesis. At three hundred Huddleston was doddering toward death but the great man certainly deserved to know in his more lucid moments that the problems he had outlined long ago were finally solved. He had been the first to prophesy that all parsec journeys to the stars must fail because each spaceship would steadily lose electrons to the weak magnetic field of the galaxy. The few weakened shells that had managed to limp back into the solar system had proven his point.
He was having one of his brighter periods when they came in. Not only were his eyes and wrinkled flesh glowing with pink health (the illusory super-health of the very aged) but he knew instantly who they were. "My best pupils!" he chuckled, curling his plasti-patched lips. "May your lives be as long and as happy as mine has been."