“Reasonable enough — this was always supposed to be a rough section of the planet,” agreed Ken. “It’s good— there’s that much less chance of being visible from a distance. What’s the matter — aren’t you down, after all?”
The altimeter had reached zero, but nothing had checked the descent. Faint rustlings had become audible in the last few seconds, and now these were supplemented by louder snappings and cracklings. Descent ceased for a moment. Apparently an obstacle sufficient to reflect radar waves and take the machine’s weight had been encountered; but when a little downward drive was applied, the crackling progress continued for some distance. Finally, however, it ceased — noise and motion alike — even when Allmer doubled and quadrupled the power for several seconds. He opened his drive switches and turned to Ken with a gesture equivalent to a shrug.
“We seem to be down, though I can’t guarantee it’s ground as we know it. It seems to be as low as we can get, though. There’s the door switch, in case you didn’t know. You’re on your own, unless you don’t mind my hanging around to watch. I suppose the boss will be here soon, too; he should have his machine in an orbit by this time.”
“Sure — stick around. I’ll be glad to have you. Maybe we’ll have to move the thing around, for all I can tell at the moment.” He had opened the door as he spoke, and watched with interest as the pressure gauge snapped up to a value about two thirds of Sarr normal. At the same instant, the temperature dial of the still hot titanium furnace began to rise spontaneously — apparently the greater atmospheric density was more than able to offset the slight amount of cooling that had taken place; the metal was actually burning. Ken hastily shut the door.
The temperature continued to rise a short distance, while the light intensity in the cargo compartment of the torpedo held at a value that would have been intense even to eyes accustomed to Sarr’s fervent sun. The most interesting information, however, came from the pressure gauge; and it was on this that Ken kept his attention glued.
For perhaps twenty seconds the reaction continued unabated; then it began to die out, and in ten more the temperature began once more to drop. The reason was evident; pressure had dropped to less than two percent of its former value. There was literally nothing left to carry on the reaction.
Ken emitted the booming drone from his sound-diaphragm that was the Sarrian equivalent of a whistle of surprise.
“I knew molten titanium would react to completion in our atmosphere, but I didn’t think it would possibly do it here. I guess I was wrong — I was rather expecting a mixture of compounds, whose heats of formation would prevent any such reaction. Still, I suppose at this planet’s temperature, they wouldn’t have to be very stable from our point of view. .” his voice trailed off.
“Means nothing to me, but it certainly burned,” Feth
Allmer remarked. “How about your other samples? Are you going to run them off right away, or wait for things to cool down again to planet-normal?” Another dial caught Ken’s eye before he could answer.