Finally he set the machine to deriving all possible extensions of the mathematics he couldn't handle himself.
When that was finished, there was no longer any need to worry about the taboo. The computer had done what he had failed to do, and more. He stared at the sheaf of papers. The assembled material would save years of work on extraspectral radiation. And his suspicion that magnetism was the vital link seemed to be confirmed. It appeared to be something of a universal transformer, when properly handled.
But the machine couldn't tell him what section of the Hardwick spectrum involved life. The field used by the lizards to locate each other lay well up in it, in a band relationship somewhat analogous to the X-rays of the normal spectrum. But if that failed, there was no clue to what might work.
In any new field, one fresh fact could open up tremendous stores of knowledge—but there would always be even greater ones awaiting discovery.
He put in a call to the library for more material on Janiekowski's work with the lizards, and was told that they'd have to secure a tape from Earth. Earth promised a ship with the tape, and other material he'd requested within three hours. There was no questioning of his priorities this time.
Then he glanced at the clock, and was shocked to find it already past noon. He got up impatiently, heading toward the lunch room. It was strange that Pat had failed to join him.
He found her and Miles searching for him in the cafeteria, and one look was enough. Miles motioned Norden to follow him, and led the way to his office. Once there, he closed the door, and threw the decoded dispatches down for Norden to see.
"The Aliens have narrowed the invasion area to ten million miles from Earth," he said wearily. "We've been holding out by a clever tactical subterfuge. Send out a hundred ships near each other, and the Aliens can't handle them all at once. If we're lucky, and spot the first torpedoes, we can trace them back and a few ships may survive long enough to send visual, pattern-seeking atomic torpedoes toward the Alien ship.
"But we can't get closer than a few hundred thousand miles with any life aboard a ship, because the radiation—or whatever it is they use—is fatal so long as they can detect us. You can see why Command rushed through all the screen suits they could, and struck this morning. They had to."
Norden picked up the dispatches, and scanned them grimly. Seven hundred pilots out of twice that many thousand had been screened. A third of the total number had returned—but none of the spared ships had been theoretically protected.