Danny Dunn and the Voice from Space Read online

  “But there’s a simpler way of doing things. We can make the tiny electrical charges known as electrons in a piece of material do the work of transferring heat energy from one place to another, instead of using the larger molecules in the liquid of a refrigerator. This kind of heat-pump is called a thermoelement.”

  “All right, but how does it work?” Joe asked, with interest.

  “It’s difficult to explain,” the Professor said. “But it goes something like this. Some metals have more free electrons moving around inside them than others—that is, if you were to compare pieces of metal of the same size. Now, if you bring two pieces of metal together, one with more free electrons and one with less, the electrons tend to seep out of the first piece and into the second. They thus establish a difference in energy at that spot.

  “When an electric current is pushed through the two pieces, the electrons have to change their energy. They can only do this by picking up heat or giving it off, depending on which way they’re moving. Are you still with me?”

  Joe rubbed his forehead vigorously with both hands. “I guess so,” he said. “Go on.”

  “The electrons get this energy by taking it from the bridge, the place where the two materials meet. And since heat is a form of energy, when they take it from that spot—”

  “That spot gets cold,” Danny put in. “The heat has to be moved somewhere else, though, and it’s carried by the electrons to the other ends of the materials. So those ends get hotter. Right?”

  “Just so,” said Professor Bullfinch. “A wonderful little device. Would you like to see one?”

  “You bet!” said Joe.

  The Professor rose to his feet. Mrs. Dunn said, “Don’t forget, you’re expecting a phone call from Dr. Grimes in Washington, Euclid.”

  He nodded. “I won’t. I think we have a little time. Come on, boys.”

  The Professor’s private laboratory was a long, one-story extension built onto the back of his house and reached by either a door from the garden or a short corridor from the main hallway. It was full of fascinating equipment and was made even more crowded by two long, stone-topped lab benches. The Professor led the way to one of these. On it, there was a small battery pack hooked up to a switch from which, in turn, two wires ran to two chunks of metal connected by a strip of copper.

  “That’s all there is to it,” the Professor announced. “No moving parts, nothing complicated, nothing up my sleeve. Now watch.”

  He closed the switch.

  “And nothing happens,” said Joe.

  “Ah, but wait a moment.” The Professor picked up a beaker with a little water in it, and poured a drop or two over the copper strip. The water began to solidify, a fur of white frost appeared, and the copper was soon coated with ice.

  “The strip of copper acts as a bridge over which the electrons can make their jump,” explained the Professor.

  He reversed the switch. In seconds, the ice had vanished in a curl of steam.

  “That little one doesn’t produce much heat or cold,” he said. “But look over here. This is what I’m working on now.”

  On the other bench stood a larger and more complicated device, a gray metal box about a foot square with dials and switches on its side. Two long shining rods reached from its front, connected at their tips by a tiny tube of what looked like glass.

  “This one is made of some interesting new substances which my old friend Dr. Grimes sent me,” said the Professor. “The rods are metals which were actually grown in the laboratory, not dug out of the ground. That glassy tube which serves as a bridge is a laboratory crystal. This metal box contains a new kind of battery of my own invention. As you see, I have set up a thermometer at the crystal bridge. I am hoping to produce much higher and lower temperatures once I’ve perfected this version.”

  He snapped a switch and turned a knob a little way. “I haven’t yet fully charged the battery,” he said. “We’ll give it a few minutes—”

  He was interrupted by Mrs. Dunn, who came in from the hall. “Dr. Grimes is on the phone from Washington,” she said.

  “I’ll be right there,” said the Professor. “Dan, keep an eye on that dial. When the needle gets to the middle black line, snap the switch off. Whatever you do, don’t let it get into the red section.”

  He hastened out of the room.

  Joe lounged back against one of the lab benches. “You know what this place reminds me of?” he said. “One of those creepy dens magicians had back in the Middle Ages. I was reading a neat book, The Sword in the Stone, it’s called, all about Merlyn and a kid named Wart, and you know Merlyn’s magic is something like Professor Bullfinch’s. Making cold and hot appear at the wave of a hand, playing around with invisible demons—these electrons and things—”

  Danny scratched the end of his freckled nose. “Uh-huh. I like magic,” he said. “But I also like to know how it works. And why.”

  “I’ll never know,” Joe said, cheerfully. “To me, it’ll always be mysterious and beautiful and as clear as mud, whether it’s figuring out how to make an electron play hopscotch or waving my hands and saying, ‘Abracadabra! I command a genie to appear!’”

  He broke off, his mouth hanging open. For as he said the words, a tall figure appeared outside the laboratory windows.

  “Help!” he gasped. “Here he is! What’d I do? I didn’t mean it!”

  Danny stared outside. “Relax, Joe,” he said. “It’s not a genie. It’s—why, it’s Mr. Badger.”

  “You’re right,” said Joe. “But what’s he doing here?”

  Danny snapped his fingers. “I know. He’s looking for a handout.”

  “A handout?”

  “Sure. You know how tramps go from house to house looking for a meal in exchange for chopping wood, or something? He’s looking for the back door.”

  And indeed, Mr. Badger was staring up at the laboratory as if in puzzlement.

  Danny ran to the garden door and threw it open.

  “Hi, Mr. Badger!” he called. “You were right—we did meet again.”

  “Why, it’s the space-exploring boy,” said Mr. Badger. “Danny Dunn. Do you live here?”

  “Yes, I do. Come on in.”

  Mr. Badger stepped inside, and looked around in wonderment. “My, my. Quite a place,” he said. “Is this where you do your research?”

  “Oh, no. I wish it were. My room’s upstairs. But listen, Mr. Badger, I know why you’re here.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. But you needn’t worry about chopping wood, because we only have one fireplace and we don’t build fires in it in June.”

  “Oh,” said Mr. Badger. “I see.” He began to look a bit confused. “Or do I?”

  “Anyway, my mother’s an awfully kind-hearted woman, and she’d never make anybody work just for a meal,” Danny continued.

  “That’s nice,” said Mr. Badger. “Do you feel all right?”

  “I feel fine,” said Danny. “Don’t you?”

  “Me? I feel—I guess—I don’t know how I feel,” said Mr. Badger.

  “I know what it is,” Danny said, sympathetically. “You’ve done all that walking and you’re probably starved and tired. But you come out to the kitchen with me and when I tell Mom that you’re a friend of mine, she’ll stuff you.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” said Mr. Badger. “I don’t want to be stuffed. Take it easy, son. Maybe you’d better go lie down for a while.”

  “What for? I’m not the one who’s tired,” Danny protested.

  Mr. Badger groaned. “Well, one of us had better go lie down,” he said.

  The door opened, and Professor Bullfinch came in. “Danny did you—?” he was beginning, when he saw Mr. Badger. His eyes opened wide.

  “Badge!” he cried.

  “Euclid! Thank goodness you’ve come,” said Mr. Badger. “I can�
�t understand one single word this boy is saying to me and I don’t know whether I’ve lost my mind or he’s lost his.”

  Danny glanced from one to the other. “Professor,” he said. “Do you—do you know Mr. Badger?”

  “Know him? Why of course I know him. We’re old friends. Let’s see, I haven’t seen you, Badge, since the Boston convention last year. You gave me a fascinating few days in your observatory then.”

  “His observatory?” Danny gulped.

  “Certainly. Haven’t you been properly introduced to each other? Badge, these are my friends, Danny Dunn and Joe Pearson. Boys, this is Dr. Hubert Badger, director of the Whipple Observatory in Boston.”

  He peered closely at Danny. “What on earth’s the matter, my dear boy?” he said. “You’ve suddenly turned a very peculiar, light green color.”

  “He has, hasn’t he?” said Joe, in an interested voice. “I suppose it’s because he gave Dr. Badger his special fifty-cent lecture on astronomy.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Project Gnome

  Danny’s cheeks flamed. “Why didn’t you say anything about it?” he demanded.

  Dr. Badger looked sheepish. “You were doing so well I didn’t want to stop you,” he said. “And I didn’t think I’d see you again, you know. You gave me a good lecture, anyway,” he added. “Couldn’t have done better myself. Nothing to be ashamed of, Danny.”

  He held out his hand. “Will you excuse me? Let’s start over from the beginning, Okay?”

  “Okay,” Danny grinned, shaking hands vigorously. “It was a good lecture. And even though you are an astronomer and maybe you don’t agree with me about life on other planets, I meant every word of it.”

  “But I do agree with you,” said Dr. Badger. “You ask Professor Bullfinch. Why, I made pretty much the same speech at the Boston convention. Some of the scientists who were there thought I’d been seeing too many weird movies.”

  “But what brings you here, Badge?” the Professor asked.

  “Why, I wanted to see you, of course. And you know how I like to walk—I drove down to a little place called Hattertown and hiked from there. I met the boys this morning. Or no, I guess it would be more correct to say they caught me.”

  “Caught you?”

  “In a butterfly net. Only way to bag an astronomer. They told me how to get to Midston. I walked down and had some lunch, strolled around, and then cut across the fields from the University to your back door. And that reminds me,” he added, wrinkling his brow. “What on earth was all that stuff about chopping wood, Danny?”

  “I thought you were a tramp looking for a handout,” Danny mumbled.

  “Aha! Light dawns. I see. Well, you’re not far wrong. I am looking for a kind of handout from you, Euclid.”

  “A dime for a cup of coffee?” The Professor’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll do better than that. You’ll stay to dinner, I hope, and for a few days with me as well.”

  “Thanks. I’m not sure how long I can manage, but I’d like to stay for a short while anyway. I’ve got a lot to talk about with you. I want your help for Project Gnome.”

  “I see. So you’re going on with it?”

  “It depends. The whole thing rests on Sir Edward Pomfret, now.”

  “What’s Project Gnome?” asked Danny. “Something to do with Nome, Alaska?”

  “Or is it goblins?” Joe said.

  “Neither, I’m afraid,” replied Dr. Badger. “Project Gnome is a dream I’ve had for many years. I want to listen for a message from another planet.”

  “Who’s sending it?” said Joe.

  “Maybe nobody,” Dr. Badger said gravely.

  “Well, where will it come from?”

  “I don’t know that either.”

  Joe sighed. “I know I’m only a kid,” he said, sadly, “but I don’t think it’s right for an astronomer to make fun of me. Listening for a message nobody’s sending from a place that maybe doesn’t exist? If I gave that as an excuse for not paying attention in my science class, I’d be expelled from school.”

  “I’m sorry, Joe,” Dr. Badger laughed. “I wasn’t making fun of you. But scientists are rather odd people. They’re always dealing with stuff you can’t touch or see, but can only guess at. Much of atomic theory depends on the existence of electrons, and those are things we can’t see—in fact, they may not even be things at all.”

  “How do you plan to do your listening?” Danny said. “And when? And why do you call it Project Gnome? And—?”

  “Whoa! One thing at a time,” said Dr. Badger.

  All this time, he had been wearing his knapsack. Now, he slipped it off his shoulders and propped it against the wall. He flexed his arms and grunted with relief.

  “That’s better,” he said. “Let’s see. Where shall I begin?”

  “Try the beginning,” suggested the Professor. “Project Ozma.”

  “Right. Well, in 1960, a group of astronomers led by Dr. Frank Drake put into operation a program they had been preparing for a long time. This was to listen for radio signals which might be coming from other planets. They called it Project Ozma—you remember, Ozma was the ruler of Oz, a far-off, magical country.”

  “And I fear a number of our colleagues thought the project was just as imaginary as Oz,” snorted the Professor.

  Dr. Badger nodded. “Drake and the others based their plan on the theory that there were millions of other stars of about the same mass and heat as our sun. You know the sequence of star-types, no doubt—”

  “Oh, Be A Fine Girl, Kiss Me,” said Danny.

  Joe looked shocked. “Hey!” he said. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

  The two scientists chortled.

  “It’s a thing most young astronomers start out by saying,” said Dr. Badger. “It’s a good way to remember the types of stars. We classify stars from the hottest, type O, through B, A, F, G, K, and M—the last are the coolest. Our own sun is a G-type star. Studying stars in the G and K classes, astronomers felt sure there must be many of them which have planets rotating around them, although the stars are too far away for us to spot these planets.

  “Now, if there are so many millions of possible planets, our feeling is that it’s very, very possible that life must have evolved on some of them. And perhaps such life has reached a state of technological development as high as—or maybe higher than—our own. If that were so, then perhaps some of those civilizations might be as curious about life on other planets as we are. And if so, they might be as interested in contacting that life as we are.”

  “Why not just launch space ships and come here?” Joe said.

  “Maybe they have,” said Dr. Badger. “But it’s cheaper and easier and quicker to send a telegram from here to London than to go there by airplane or boat, isn’t it? The same is true when you’re talking about planets. The fastest messenger is light. Nothing can go any faster. Radio waves are practically the same thing as light. Therefore, the quickest means of getting across the enormous distance between planets in different solar systems is a message, by light or radio.

  “Drake and his associates at last were able to use the big radio telescope at Green Bank, West Virginia. But of course, they couldn’t use it all the time—there were lots of other projects and other astronomers waiting, and the cost of using the telescope was very high. So they fitted their project in among others, and listened over a period of three months for a total of about a hundred and fifteen hours.”

  He stopped. The boys looked at him expectantly.

  Then Joe said, “Somebody answered, and it was the wrong number.”

  “Joe, you’re irrepressible,” said Professor Bullfinch.

  “I hope that means I’m talented,” said Joe.

  “In a way,” Dr. Badger said. “Well, no message came. But that didn’t mean there was none. Maybe they had picked the wrong wavelength t
o listen on, or they needed better equipment, or they just needed lots more time—there could have been many reasons. And now I want to run a similar project.”

  “Project Gnome?” said Danny.

  “Exactly. If you’ve read your Oz books, and I hope you have, you’ll remember that the wicked Gnome King had a servant with very sensitive ears: a gnome called the Long-Eared Hearer. That’s my project. Drake and Struve concentrated on the stars Tau Ceti and Epsilon Eridani. I want to scan a variety of targets. And I want to persuade Sir Edward Pomfret to let me use his giant radio telescope in England— it’s the largest in the world. I want to listen for two solid weeks, night and day, a total of 336 hours.”

  “Oh, boy!” shouted Danny. “And you want Professor Bullfinch to go along, is that it? Can I go too?”

  “Hold on,” Dr. Badger said. “You’re jumping the gun. Everything depends on Sir Edward, and he’s a very difficult man to persuade. As you know, Euclid, he feels that the whole idea of radio messages from space is so unlikely that it’s useless to try listening. He’s always said he’s got too many other serious uses for the Grendel telescope to warrant using it for this sort of experiment.”

  Professor Bullfinch looked as gloomy as a man with a round, naturally jolly face could manage. “I do know. He can be very stubborn, too. What do you want me to do, Badge?”

  “Why, I learned just recently that you and Sir Edward are old friends. I had hoped you’d be able to help me make him listen to reason.”

  “Hmm. It’s true we’ve known each other for a long time. I did some work at Cambridge long ago, when he was there.”

  “There you are! And I’ve been told he has a lot of respect for you.”

  “Maybe he has. I have a lot of respect for him, too. But you see, we had a rather serious disagreement a few years ago—”