Chapter III: Music on Ganymede

The spot where the space-ship made its compulsory landing was like a small park. It was divided into geometrically fashioned beds of fantastic, crawling vines, vivid with huge, gaudy flowers and purple-hued, spongy foliage. Surrounding the open space were a number of flat, cylindrical objects which resembled the pieces on an enormous checker-board. Swinging open, like the lids of gigantic waffle-irons, these cylinders belched forth a host of preposterous creatures.

Comparable in size to walruses, their orange-hued bodies were shaped like gigantic slugs or shell-less snails. Their movements, however, were anything but snail-like. With incredible swiftness they flowed toward the space-ship from all directions. As if arrested by a sharp command, they all stopped before they reached the Goddard, ringing it at a respectable distance with an oval wall of pulsating bodies.

After a tense period of seeming indecision, one of their number separated from the others and oozed boldly across the intervening space.

Through the crystal-clear window, Captain Verger could plainly distinguish the creature's face, which, fantastic as it was, weirdly suggested a superior degree of intelligence, such as only human beings can claim. Ears and nostrils it undoubtedly possessed, the former being spirally coiled, like cinnamon rolls, and the latter resembling the muzzle of a double-barreled shotgun. Unusually large was the mouth, which was armed with three rows of greenish teeth. Of all the grotesque features, the most peculiar were its organs of vision. Telescopic, like those of a lobster, its glaring, lidless eyes were mounted on long stalks so that they could be turned in all directions and focussed by drawing them in and out.

For a breathless minute, those weird eyes explored the interior of the space-ship. Then something resembling a three-fingered hand protruded from the creature's shoulder, stretched out until it became a long arm and made an unmistakable beckoning gesture. "Come out," it said as clearly as if it had uttered those very words. Verger answered with a shake of his head, which, though silent, was emphatically eloquent.

Within the crowded cabin of the space-ship, not a sound was heard. The girls had tumbled out of their hammocks and were huddled together, too frightened to speak or even to scream. Like birds fascinated by a serpent, they gazed fearfully at that fiendish face; and when it disappeared from the window, they simultaneously turned their hypnotized eyes on Captain Verger.

It was Helen Green, the red-headed drummer-girl who, assuming the post of spokeswoman, broke the silence. "Well, Captain," she said in a voice which she tried hard to keep from trembling, "What do we do now?"

Verger startled them all by shouting, "I'll tell you what to do! Get into your uniforms! Unpack your horns! Let's have a good, rousing tune right now!"

For a while they stared at him as if they feared he had lost his mind. Professor Anderson, who was standing close to Verger whispered, "Do you really mean that, Captain?"

"Certainly I mean it!" The pilot yelled. "Since you are in charge of the band, will you please see to it that my orders are carried out?"

"But why the uniforms? I don't--"

"There's no time for argument," Verger interrupted him. "It's extremely important that the girls dress in their uniforms. Please request them to do so at once!"

* * * * *

A moment later, when the three men were shut in the control compartment in order that the girls could use the main cabin as a dressing room, Verger apologized to Anderson, "Sorry I had to be so blunt, Professor! You see, it was apparent that all the ladies were in a blue funk. Things are going to be tough enough for us without a bunch of hysterical women on our hands. I figured that something had to be done to distract their minds and there's nothing that absorbs the interest of a female like dolling up in fancy duds."

"I see," Anderson exclaimed. "So that was the reason why you insisted on the uniforms."

"Not entirely. I had other reasons. These Callisto babies are smart people--a lot smarter than we are in most things. But there's one subject they don't know anything at all about, and that's music!"

"And your idea is to stage a band concert for their benefit?" asked Anderson.

"Exactly."

"And what do you think will happen then?"

"I don't know. Anything can happen. But, no matter what they do about it, we can't be any worse off than we are right now. Tell your girls to toot like they've never tooted before. Let's hope that the Callisto boys like it. If they do, it may save us."

"What makes you think so?" Anderson asked.

"Because these babies are known to be the most inquisitive beings in the universe. If I am right about their not knowing anything about music, your band is sure to arouse their curiosity. They'll want to find out all about it, and they can't very well do that if they cut the gizzards out of the musicians. Do you get the idea?"

While Verger and Anderson were talking, LeDoux had kept close watch through the windows of the control room. Suddenly he exclaimed, "Look what's coming now!"

A queer-looking machine was slowly approaching the space-ship. It was like a combination of a steam-shovel and a pile driver. Suspended by means of a cable from a long boom, a metal ball, which must have weighed several tons, was swinging back and forth like a colossal pendulum.

"What do you suppose it is?" Anderson whispered tensely.

"Whatever it is, it looks like bad news!" exclaimed Verger. "My guess is that they intend to use it to batter a hole in our shell. We've got to stop them from doing that. If they wrecked the ship we'd never be able to get away from here."

"What can we do about it?" LeDoux demanded. "You said yourself that no human weapons have any effect on them."

"There's only one thing to do," Verger replied. "And that is to open the hatch before that thing-a-ma-gig starts massaging our hull."

Without giving any warning, he flung open the door of the main cabin. Most of the girls were already dressed in their vivid, purple and green uniforms. Two of them, who were still partially undressed, uttered little screams, but Captain Verger paid no attention to them. Striding to the circular hatch, he quickly unscrewed the ponderous clamps and slid the door open.

Then he turned and shouted, "Hurry, girls! There isn't a moment to lose. All of you get your instruments to working and follow me."

"What are we going to play?" someone squealed.

"Play anything--any snappy march will do!"

Anderson came to the rescue with the command, "Play 'The March of the Rocketeers'."

* * * * *

The girls raised their instruments and were just about to start playing when Verger shouted, "One moment, please. We've all got to be in this--the men as well as the women. Otherwise they may get the idea that the men aren't needed in the band and will start to carve us up. How about it, Professor? Have you any extra instruments?"

Anderson shook his head.

"Any objects that resemble musical instruments will do. Where's that gimmick you were working on?"

"You mean my high-frequency sound projector? I'll get it right away," Anderson dashed into the stateroom, returning immediately with his invention.

"O.K. You march along with the girls. Make believe you're playing on your dohickey. I'll pretend to play on this monkey wrench. LeDoux, you blow on your ray-gun--but be careful you don't get absent minded and pull the trigger."

Stepping to the open hatch, Captain Verger yelled, "O.K., girls! Now play like you've never played before! One! Two! Three! Four! Let's go!" With the blaring band streaming after him, and with his ridiculous monkey wrench pressed against his lips, he strode forth to the soil of the hostile satellite.

It was indeed an astounding spectacle. Arrayed in their vividly colored uniforms, their hearts thumping with excitement, the musical wives of the exiled miners played and strutted as if they knew their lives depended on their skill.

Pretending to pay no attention to the beasts who still formed an ominous ring around the space-ship, Verger waded through a tangle of vegetation to what looked like a walk or beaten path. Along this he marched and the ring of slug-men opened to let the band pass through.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Captain Verger watched the natives, for he realized that the fate of his band hung on one thing and one thing only, and that was the reaction of its audience.

At first, the only effect he discerned was one of astonishment. Obviously the Callistonians were taken completely by surprise. They didn't know what to do, and so they did nothing except follow this amazing procession.

Doubling around in a wide circle, Verger led the band back toward the space-ship. Like children watching a circus parade, the natives formed a lane, along which the musicians had to pass. It was then that Captain Verger noticed something that gave him relieved encouragement. Practically all of the listeners were swaying back and forth, keeping exact time with the catchy strains of the stirring march. It was apparent that, even though they were ignorant of music, they certainly had a sense of rhythm. None of them made any attempts to molest the human beings as they marched back and reentered the space-ship.