"What's the answer, Trig?" the Earthman asked, finally. "This is more down your alley than mine. That motor's about the size of my foot, and if it isn't eating a thousand pounds an hour I'm Klono's maiden aunt. And the whole output is going out on two wires no bigger than number four, jacketed together like ordinary parallel pair. Perfect insulator? If so, how about switching?"
"That must be it, a substance of practically infinite resistance," the Rigellian replied absently, studying intently the peculiar mechanism. "Must have a better conductor than silver, too, unless they can handle voltages of ten to the fifteenth or so, and don't see how they could break such potentials.... Guess they don't use switches ... don't see any ... must shut down the prime sources.... No, there it is—so small that I overlooked it completely. In that little box there! Sort of a jam-plate type; a thin sheet of insulation with a knife on the leading edge, working in a slot to cut the two conductors apart—kills the arc by jamming into the tight slot at the end of the box. The conductors must fuse together at each make and burn away a little at each break, that's why they have renewable tips. Kim, they've really got something! I certainly am going to stay here and do some studying."
"Yes, and we'll have to rebuild the Dauntless—"
The two Lensmen were called away from their study by Worsel—the Medonians had decided to accept the invitation to attempt to move to the First Galaxy. Orders were given, the course was changed and the planet, now a veritable spaceship, shot away in the new direction.
"Not as many legs as a speedster, of course, but at that, she's no slouch—we're making plenty of lights," Kinnison commented, then turned to the president. "It seems rather presumptuous for us to call you simply 'Wise,' especially as I gather that that is not really your formal name—"
"That is what I am called, and that is what you are to call me," the oldster replied: "We of Medon do not have names. Each has a number; or, rather, a symbol composed of numbers and letters of our alphabet—a symbol which gives his full classification. Since these things are too clumsy for regular use, however, each of us is given a nickname, usually an adjective, which is supposed to be more or less descriptive. You of Earth we could not give a complete symbol, your two companions we could not give any at all. However, you may be interested in knowing that you three have already been named?"
"Very much so."
"You are to be called 'Keen.' He of Rigel IV is 'Strong,' and he of Velantia is 'Agile.'"
"Quite complimentary to me, but—"
"Not bad at all, I'd say," Tregonsee broke in. "But hadn't we better be getting on with more serious business?"