control it accurately enough at this
three-dimensional distance. Too deep, it wouldn't explode at all. What I don't like to
think of, though, is a negasphere. Or a planet, perhaps."
"Ideas? Suggestions?" the admiral snapped.
"No—I don't know anything about that stuff. How about putting our Lenses on
Cardynge?"
"That's a thought!" and in seconds they were in communication with Sir Austin
Cardynge, Earth's mightiest mathematical brain.
"Kinnison, how many times must I tell you that I am not to be interrupted?" the
aged scientist's thought was a crackle of fury. "How can I concentrate upon vital
problems if every young whippersnapper in the System is to perpetrate such
abominable, such outrageous intrusions . . ."
"Hold it, Sir Austin—hold everything!" Kinnison soothed. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't
have intruded if it hadn't been a matter of life or death. But it would be. worse intrusion,
wouldn't it, if the Boskonians sent a planet about the size of Jupiter—or a
negasphere—through one of their extra-dimensional vortices into your study? That's
exactly what they're figuring on doing."
"What-what-what?" Cardynge snapped, like a string of firecrackers. He quieted
down, then, and thought. And Sir Austin Cardynge could think, upon occasion and when
he felt so inclined; could think in the abstruse symbology of pure mathematics with a
cogency equalled by few minds in the universe. Both Lensmen perceived those
thoughts, but neither could understand or follow them. No mind not a member of the
Conference of Scientists could have done so.
"They can't!" of a sudden the mathematician cackled, gleefully disdainful.
"Impossible—quite definitely impossible. There are laws governing such things,
Kinnison, my impetuous and ignorant young friend. The terminus of the necessary
hyper-tube could not be established within such proximity to the mass of the sun. This is
shown by . . ."
"Never mind the proof—the fact is enough," Kinnison interposed, hastily. "How
close to the sun could it be established?"
"I couldn't say, off-hand," came the cautiously scientific reply. "More than one
astronomical unit, certainly, but the computation of the exact distance would require
some little time. It would, however, be an interesting, if minor, problem. I will solve it for
you, if you like, and advise you of the exact minimum distance."
"Please do so—thanks a million," and the Lensmen disconnected.
"The conceited old goat!" Haynes snorted. "I'd like to smack him down!"
"I've felt like it more than once, but it wouldn't do any good. You've got to handle
him with gloves—besides, you can afford to make concessions to a man with a brain
like that."
"I suppose so. But how about that infernal tube? Knowing that it can not be set
up within or very near Tellus helps some, but not enough. We've got to know where it
is—if it is. Can you detect it?"
"Yes. That is, I can't, but the specialists can, I think. Wise of Medon would know
more about that than anyone else. Why wouldn't it be a thought to call him over here?"
"It would that", and it was done.
Wise of Medon and his staff came, conferred, and departed.
Sir Austin Cardynge solved his minor problem, reporting that the minimum
distance from the sun's center to the postulated center of the terminus of the
vortex—actually, the geometrical origin of the three-dimensional figure which was the
hyper-plane of intersection—was one point two six four seven, approximately,
astronomical units; the last figure being tentative and somewhat uncertain because of
the rapidly-moving masses of Jupiter . . .
Haynes cut the tape—he had no time for an hour of mathematical
dissertation—and called in his execs.
"Full-globe detection of hyper-spatial tubes," he directed, crisply. "Kinnison will
tell you