I see of this the more I think communication with Mars may be right,” Bruce Wetherall muttered. “I’ll gamble no linguist on earth could disentangle that.”
“Notice the background?” Chris asked quickly. “It’s exactly the same as before. Sort of waterfall pattern and two pillars.”
Bruce and Dave nodded, too overwhelmed to say much. Then as the girl at last lowered her written message and gave a look of inquiry, Bruce made an irritated movement.
“Surely there’s some way in which we can get sound through. It’s too exasperating to be muted like this.”
Chris worked again on his apparatus and meanwhile Dave nodded and smiled to the picture in the screen. To his satisfaction the girl smiled back—laughed even—to reveal regular white teeth.
“She’s no Martian,” Bruce mused, studying her intently. “In every particular she’s earthly. Two ears, two eyes, the head and face. Everything about her spells E-A-R-T-H. And she’d put many a film and television star in the shade when it comes to looks—”
“The fault seems to be at her end,” Chris interrupted. “My receiver is in perfect order, so I just don’t understand what’s wrong.”
He turned back to the screen and tried by motions to convey to the girl that her sound transmission was haywire. She watched his actions with a pretty, thoughtful intelligence, then she looked at something below her and out of screen view. Her long, slender fingers reached forward and began to operate something vigorously.
Tensely, Chris, Dave and Bruce waited—and they nearly came to the verge of whooping with joy when all of a sudden the hiss of power through the speaker was swamped by a voice.... And what a voice! It had the tinkle of fairy bells, a curious other-world quality which was incredibly fascinating. Here was a voice such as no woman in the world had ever been known to possess before.
“That,” Bruce said in a kind of silent ecstasy, “is a voice in a million.”
“So’s the girl who owns it,” Dave added.
Evidently their remarks had reached the girl, for she suddenly stopped talking and frowned instead. Then she gave a shrug of her shoulders and talked again.
“Make anything of it?” Chris asked, listening intently. “Sounds to me as though it has an Oriental flavour.”
Bruce shook his head. “I’ve been in the Orient a good deal and I never heard a voice like that. Wonder if she can sing?”
Chris looked at her image and asked deliberately: “Can you sing?”
She gazed vaguely, obviously not understanding, so for her benefit he pantomimed the action of a singer, opening and shutting his mouth and putting his hand on his chest. The act seemed to amuse the unknown girl more than somewhat, for she burst into laughter. Chris gave her a reproving look, which quickly melted into one of profound admiration as she started singing in her incomprehensible language. The words did not matter in the least: it was her astounding range that counted. Without the least apparent physical effort she sailed up into and even beyond seven octaves, her final note being so high and pure as to slowly merge beyond audible range.
“Wow!” Dave exclaimed, his eyes bright. “If ever there was a girl worth a fortune this is she. Ask her if—”
He broke off, gazing in consternation as the scene suddenly began to smear, revolve, and then fade. In spite of everything he could do with the controls, Chris failed and the screen was finally blank, with a silent speaker. Puzzled, he sat gazing at the apparatus.
“What caused it?” Dave demanded, switching off the camcorder. “Just when things were getting interesting too!”
Chris glanced at him. “Probably the aerial’s gone west again as it did last time. Hop out and take a look, will you?”
Dave nodded, and laying the camcorder back on the bench, he crossed to the laboratory door and wrenched it open. It was raining heavily, but the thunder and lightning was not particularly severe. The flashes were sufficient to enable him to see that the aerial was quite undamaged, which information he brought back.
“Then there’s no reason for the fade,” Chris muttered. “Or is there?”
“Just one,” Bruce responded, thinking. “Probably as the storm recedes the electrical build-up which makes this strange transmission-reception possible loses its efficiency. On the first occasion lightning shattered the aerial and put a stop to everything: this time the storm has moved too far away to be useful electrically any longer.”
“Uh-huh,” Chris acknowledged. “I suppose that would fit the case. Since we obviously can’t wait for a convenient storm every time we want to establish contact, what’s the answer? It’s right up your street, Bruce, as a physicist. I understand radio and television, but electrical bridges and flukes are way outside my province.”
Bruce reflected. “I’ll probably dope out something—but it’ll take a bit of time, Meanwhile, we’re no nearer where the transmission is coming from.”
“Must be an amateur somewhere which the Association missed,” Chris decided. “Best thing I can do is contact them again and see if we—”
“Hold it!” Bruce knocked down his hand sharply as he reached out to the switches. “That would be about the most crazy thing you could do. If we handle this situation properly there may be a fortune in it. That girl has a voice that would make the world’s greatest prima donna sound like an amateur. On top of that she looks a pretty guileless girl and we could probably get her to do whatever we wanted and cash in on it.”
Dave looked vaguely uncomfortable as he mopped his chins. As for Chris, his look was plainly belligerent.
“Is that the best angle you can think up? Commercialise the girl straight away? I don’t want any of it. I’m interested in her for herself, to say nothing of the mystery which surrounds her.”
Bruce grinned. “Be simple if you want, feller, but my mind is on the financial angle. If we can only get this girl sorted out properly and find a way to have her here in the flesh there are no limits to what might be done…. Indeed, it may not be necessary for her to be personally contacted. She can be filmed in sound, as you’ve done already.”
The observation brought Chris quickly to his feet again. He went over to the bench and picked up the camcorder. Then he crossed to the television and presently all three men settled in silence to watch the recording. They listened to their own voices, and then that of the girl—and once again, as the point of her singing was reached they listened enthralled.
“Definitely that voice has got to be sold to the highest bidder,” Bruce decided as Chris switched off. “That’s going to be my stake in this from here on, and for that reason alone I’ll strain every scientific ability I’ve got to make a constant communication possible. As for the source of her transmission and her weird language, I leave that to you two geniuses.... Incidentally, you don’t still suspect Mars or Venus, do you?”
Chris spread his hands. “I don’t know what to think. But if it takes every penny I’ve got I’ll get the best linguists in the world to try and determine where this language hails from.”
“And give everything away?” Bruce asked curtly. “You can be very dim at times, Chris.”
“What
