We gave the moon little time. For those who had become homesick, Earth
was hanging magnificently in the sky. At a crater wall, we stopped,
ostensibly to let souvenir hunters pick at small pieces of lunar rock
without leaving the cart.
We'd argued hours on what type to use, till Mel dragged out his rock
book. Most, automatically, had wanted basalt. However, the moon's
density being low, heavier rocks are probably scarce--one good reason
not to expect radioactive ores there. We finally settled for rhyolite
and obsidian.
Stopping on the moon had another purpose. We kept the room temperature
at 70 F, for heating and cooling economy; the transition from Venus to
Mars was much simpler if ambient temperature dropped from 140 to 70 and
from 70 to 0, rather than straight through the range.
* * * * *
Next, a Martian polar cap, and we looked down a long canal that
disappeared on the horizon. Water appeared to run uphill for that
effect. The whole scene looked like an Arizona highway at dusk--what it
should have. To our right, a suggestion of--damn the opposition's
eyes--culture: a large stone whatzit. It was a jarring note.
We selected one of those nondescript asteroids with just enough diameter
to show extreme curvature. Frank had done magnificently. I found myself
hanging onto the cart. Headlights deliberately dimmed, on the rocky
surface, the cart bumped wildly. The sky was black, broken only by
little, hard chunks of light. No horizon. The feeling of being ready to
drop was intense, possibly too much so.
Europa, then, in a valley of ice. We'd picked Jupiter's third moon
because its frozen atmosphere permitted some eerie pseudo-ice
sculpturing. As we moved, Jupiter appeared between breaks and peaks in
the sheer wall. Worked nicely, seeing the monstrous planet distended
overhead, like a gaily colored beach ball moving with us, as the moon
from a train window. Unfortunately, the ice forms detracted somewhat.
Mimas, pitch black, then a glow. Stark landscape quickly becoming
visible. Steep cliffs, rocky plain. Saturn rising. The rings, their
shadow on the globe, the beauty of it, made me sit stunned, though I
knew what to expect.
The guide warned us radar spotted an approaching object, probably a
meteor. We ran, the cart at maximum speed--not much, really. It tore at
you, wanting to stare at Saturn, wanting to duck.
Hit the special section, dropped and rose our three inches--one hell of
a distance--and the tour was over. I kept thinking, insanely, that the
meteor _was_ a perfect conflict touch.
We unsuited silently. Finally, Hazel breathed, "Hallelujah!" It was
summation of success. There now remained but one thing: wait for the
quarry to show.
I estimated the necessary time at four days and nights after opening. It
was hard to wait, hard not to fidget under the watchful--the only
word--eyes of the GG. They were up to something, undoubtedly. But there
was something far more important: I'd narrowed the 2,499,999,999 down to
five.
The one I sought was a member of the GG.
* * * * *
Opening night brought Harry and Frank to my office. They tried to be
casual, engaged me in desultory nothings. Frank looked reproachful--I
was there too late.
The following night, Mel ambled in at midnight. He grinned, discussed a
plot, suggested we go out for a beer, changed his mind, left.
The third night, I waited in the dark. Nor was I disappointed: Dex and
Hazel showed.
"What do you want? It's 2 A.M.!"
There was a long regrouping pause; then Hazel said, "Dex has a fine
idea."
"Well?"
"I've been thinking about gravity--"
"About time," I said sarcastically, disliking myself but hoping it would
get rid of them, "we opened three days ago."
He ignored my petulance and grinned. "No, I meant anti-gravity. I think
it's possible. If you had a superconductor in an inductance field--"
"Why tell me?"
"Thought you'd have some ideas."
I shook my head. "That's what I hired _you_ for. My only idea right now
is going to sleep."
Bewildered, they left.
And on the fourth night, no one came. So I headed for the Tour. Now,
having risked everything on my logic, I was a dead pigeon if wrong.
There were only minutes left.
I eased through the back door, heard our automation equipment humming.
Despite darkness, I shortcutted, nearly reaching the door to the service
hallway in back of the planetary rooms. There was a distinct click, and
a flashlight blinded me. I waited, stifling a cry, knowing if it were
he, death was next.
Death never spoke in such quiet, sweet tones. Frank asked, "What are you
doing here?"
_Frank, Frank, not you!_
Surprise shocked me: the light, her voice, the sudden suspicion. Still,
diversion and counterattack ... "Perhaps you've the explaining to do," I
said nastily. "Why are you here?"
Her wide-eyed ingenuousness making me more suspicious, she answered,
"Waiting to see if you'd appear." Then she stopped being truthful: "You
forget we had a date--"
"We didn't have any damned date," I said flatly, hurting deep within.
"All right, I want to know why you're still driving yourself. It isn't
work; that's finished."
The way she talked made me hopeful. Maybe she wasn't the one ... and
then came fear. Frank, if he's here, you're in danger. The monster
respects nothing we hold dear--law, property, dignity, life.
There was one way to find out: make her leave. I wrenched the flashlight
from her, smashed it on the concrete floor. "I mean this: get the hell
out of here, and stay out!"
She said, distastefully, "I've seen it happen, but never this fast.
You've gone Hollywood, you're a genius, you're tremendous--forgetting
other people who helped. Go ahead with your mysterious deal--and I hope
we never meet again."
I struggled with ambivalence. This might be a trick; if not, Frank now
hated me irreparably.
* * * * *
No time to worry about human emotions, not any more. Nausea reminded me
of the primary purpose. I continued down the dark hallway, listening for
Frank's return, hoping she needn't die.
Light was unnecessary: I knew the right door. Because it started here,
it would end here. Quickly, silently, I slipped inside the Venus room.
With peculiar relief, I realized Frank wasn't it: my nose led me right
to the monster.
In an ecstatic, semistuporous state, smelling strongly of sulfur
dioxide, he couldn't have been aware of me. Couldn't?
"It took you long enough." He didn't bother to turn from the rock he was
huddled against.
"I had to be sure." I felt anything but the calm carried in my voice.
"No wonder the GG got the right answers, with you making initial starts.
Say, were you responsible for the cat that rolled at me?"
"An accident. Obviously, I wanted this room built as much as you."
Harry, now undisguised, languorously turned. "Your little trap didn't
quite come off--a danger in fighting a superior intellect."
"No trap. I had a job to do; it's done."
"Job? Job?" Infuriated, leaping to his feet, he shouted, "Speak the
native tongue, filth!"
"What's the use? Because of you, I'll never again have the chance. And
you no longer have a native tongue."
"Who were those judges," he asked bitterly, "to declare _me_ an
outcast?"
"Representatives of an outraged society." I almost lost my temper,
thinking of this deviant's crimes. "You were lucky to get banishment
instead of death."