Rivets and Sprockets by Alexander Key

”
    â€œEh? Purpose?”
    â€œDaddy, they are the only things alive on Mars, and they grow only near the canals. Couldn’t their purpose be to suck up all the vapor that drifts down to them?”
    â€œNaturally,” said the doctor. “Practically the conclusion I was almost arriving at. Proceed.”
    â€œWell,” said Jim, “since they are so grubbily greedy for oxygen, it would seem that their purpose is to store it up for something.”
    â€œYes? Yes?”
    â€œMaybe for a Something,” said Jim.
    â€œH’mm! Ah, h’mmmm! Bless me, that could be it!”
    â€œThen, Daddy, why don’t we just fly around Mars, and look for places where the lichens have been picked? Maybe it will show us where the Something lives.”
    â€œSometimes,” said Dr. Bailey, “you show signs of, ah, an almost tolerable mentality—as naturally you should, since I’m your father. Sprockets, ask Ilium to take us around the daylight side of the planet. We must look for a place where lichens have been picked. Everybody on his toes! Sing out immediately if you see anything unusually unusual.”
    Since Mars is only a middling planet, and the daylight half of it little wider than from here to there, relatively speaking—or no more than a quickish zip from New York to London—they were able to zip back and forth from the edge of night to the edge of dawn in a very short time.
    On the first four zips they saw nothing at all unusually unusual. On the fifth zip they saw a dust storm. It came up so fast, and spread over so much of the planet, and it was so thick and red and boiling, that searching for signs of a Something in it was impossible. There was nothing to do but zip around to the night side of Mars and wait till dawn.
    While they waited, Ilium and Leli taught Rivets how to play curious games with the floating space marbles. Jim wanted to play, but he couldn’t keep his hands out of the lunch basket. Dr. Bailey kept pacing the saucer, impatiently snapping his fingers.
    Finally Sprockets said, “Sir, it occurs to me that we might save time by trying to signal the Something.”
    â€œEh? Signal it? How? Has the saucer a radio?”
    â€œNot one that we could use, sir. The saucer’s radio works by thought. But since we’re right here on Mars, I believe my special positronic hookup might be adequate—if I give it full power and send the proper signal.”
    â€œWhat kind of signal would you send?”
    â€œI believe, sir, I can best get the Something’s attention by repeating the message we heard over Jim’s do-jigger.”
    â€œImpossible! Those sounds would abble a tape recorder! How could you remember them?”
    â€œSir, I remember the sounds perfectly. My difficulty will be to repeat them. If you’ll turn on your wrist radio and listen, I’ll make the attempt.”
    The doctor was suddenly all eagerness. “Attention, everybody! Turn on your radios—Sprockets is going to signal the Something!”
    Sprockets gave his radio button a double turn, adjusted his voice button, and raised his head. In a deep, grinding, rumbling—though slightly tinny—tone, he called: “Grullu-grullu-grulluwug! Hiddewoggo-hiddewoggo-buskrozor-r-r! Guwulluggowrozorkorohiddewoggobuskrozor-r-r-r-r-r-r!”
    He knew it wasn’t quite grinding enough, but he repeated it three times, and waited hopefully.
    A second passed. Suddenly there was a little hum, and from everyone’s radio poured a terrible voice. It was rumbling, deep, and grinding, and so awful to hear that Jim turned pale and put his fingers in his ears.
    When it was over, the doctor’s mop of white hair was standing straight up, stiff as a brush. “Heaven preserve us!” he whispered. “I’m not at all sure I care to meet the owner of that voice face to face.”
    â€œI’ll take the lichens,” Jim muttered. “ Any