Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition, December 1955 — page 61: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE WAITABITS 59 an alarm-stud and a resulting wave of adjectives spread halfway to the horizon. They moved yet again, this time to within short range of the terminator. At least it served to shift the sun which had hung stubbornly in mid-sky and changed position by no more than one degree per Earth-day. The third watch took to bed, dog-tired and made more than ready for © slumber by semblance of twilight. Data-hunters went out feeling that paradoxically time was proving all too short on a planet with far too much of it. Ogilvy whirred away for first look at the night-side, discovered half a world buried in deep sleep with nothing stirring, not a soul, not a vehicle. This situation lasted twenty-one hours at the end of which all natives for miles around had set out for the circus. Once more the siren stimulated enrichment of Earth-language. The Thunderer went up, came down four hundred miles within the night-side. That tactic, decided Leigh, represented a right smart piece of figuring. Aroused aliens on the day-side would now require about twelve days to reach them. And they’d make it only if some insomniac had spotted and phoned the ship’s present location. Such betrayal was likely enough because the Thunderer’s long rows of ports poured a brilliant blaze into the darkness and caused a great glow in the sky. It wasn’t long before he gained assurance that there was little danger of a giveaway. Nolan entered the cabin and stood with fingers twitching as if he yearned to strangle someone very, very slowly, much as a Waitabit would do it. His attitude was accentuated by possession of unfortunate features. Of all the personnel aboard the Thunderer nobody better resembled the popular notion of a murderer. “You will appreciate, commodore,” he began, speaking with great restraint, “the extreme difficulty of knocking sense into or getting sense out of creatures that think in hours rather than split-seconds.” “T know it’s tough going,’ Leigh sympathized. He eyed the other carefully. “What’s on your mind?” “What is on my mind,” informed Nolan in rising tones, “is the fact that there’s one thing to be said in favor of previous subjects.”” He worked the fingers around. “At least they were awake,” “That is why we had to move,” Leigh pointed out. ““They’re no nuisance to us while dead abed.” “Then,” Nolan burst forth, “how do you expect us to make contact with them?”’ “T don’t. I’ve given it up. If you wish to continue trying, that’s your affair. But you’re under no compulsion to do so.” Crossing the room, he said more gently, “I’ve sent a long signal to Earth giving full details of what we're against. The next move is up to them. Their reply should come in a few days’ time. Meanwhile, we’ll sit tight, dig out whatever information we can, leave what we can’t.”’ Nolan said morbidly, “Hoff and I went to a hamlet far down the road. Not only is everyone asleep but they can’t be wakened. They can be handled like dolls without stirring in their dreams. The medics came and had a look at them after we'd told them about this wholesale ere eae MMIC |DOOKS sO)