2061: Odyssey Three

  Now they could see the whole of Haven spread out beneath them, and van der Berg realized what a brilliant job Acting Captain Lee had done when he beached the ship. There were only a few places where it could have been safely grounded; although a good deal of luck had also been involved, Lee had used wind and sea-anchor to the best possible advantage.

  The mists closed around them; Bill Tee was rising on a semi-ballistic trajectory to minimize drag, and there would be nothing to see except the clouds for twenty minutes. A pity, thought van der Berg; I'm sure there must be some interesting creatures swimming around down there, and no one else may have a chance of seeing them.

  "Coming up to engine cut-off," said Floyd. "Everything normal."

  "Very good, Bill Tee. No report of traffic at your altitude. You're still number one on the runway to land."

  "Who's that joker?" asked van der Berg.

  "Ronnie Lim. Believe it or not, that 'number one on the runway' goes back to Apollo."

  van der Berg could understand why. There was nothing like the occasional touch of humour - providing it was not overdone - to relieve the strain when men were involved in some complex and possibly hazardous enterprise.

  "Fifteen minutes before we start braking," said Floyd. "Let's see who else is on the air."

  He started the autoscan, and a succession of beeps and whistles, separated by short silences as the tuner rejected them one by one in its swift climb up the radio spectrum, echoed round the little cabin.

  "Your local beacons and data transmissions," said Floyd. "I was hoping - ah, here we are!"

  It was only a faint musical tone, warbling rapidly up and down like a demented soprano. Floyd glanced at the frequency meter.

  "Doppler shift almost gone - she's slowing fast."

  "What is it -text?"

  "Slowscan video, I think. They're relaying a lot of material back to Earth through the big dish on Ganymede, when it's in the right position. The networks are yelling for news."

  They listened to the hypnotic but meaningless sound for a few minutes; then Floyd switched it off. Incomprehensible though the transmission from Universe was to their unaided senses, it conveyed the only message that mattered. Help was on the way, and would soon be there.

  Partly to fill the silence, but also because he was genuinely interested, van der Berg remarked casually: "Have you talked to your grandfather lately?"

  "Talked", of course, was a misnomer where interplanetary distances were concerned, but no one had come up with an acceptable alternative. 'Voicegram', 'audiomail' and 'vocard' had all flourished briefly, then vanished into limbo. Even now, most of the human race probably did not believe that realtime conversation was impossible in the Solar System's wide, open spaces, and from time to time indignant protests were heard: "Why can't you scientists do something about it?"

  "Yes," said Floyd. "He's in fine shape, and I look forward to meeting him."

  There was a slight strain in his voice. I wonder, thought van der Berg, when they last met; but he realized that it would be tactless to ask. Instead, he spent the next ten minutes rehearsing the off-loading and setting-up procedures with Floyd, so there would be no unnecessary confusion when they touched down.

  The "commence braking" alarm went off just a fraction of a second after Floyd had already started the program sequencer. I'm in good hands, thought van der Berg: I can relax and concentrate on my job. Where's that camera - don't say it's floated away again.

  The clouds were clearing. Even though the radar had shown exactly what was beneath them, in a display as good as normal vision could provide, it was still a shock to see the face of the mountain rearing up only a few kilometers ahead.

  "Look!" cried Floyd suddenly. "Over to the left -by that double peak - give you one guess!"

  "I'm sure you're right - I don't think we did any damage - it just splattered - wonder where the other one hit-"

  "Altitude one thousand. Which landing site? Alpha doesn't look so good from here."

  "You're right - try Gamma - closer to the mountain, anyway."

  "Five hundred. Gamma it is. I'll hover for twenty secs - if you don't like it, we'll switch to Beta. Four hundred... Three hundred... Two hundred. ("Good luck, Bill Tee," said Galaxy briefly). Thanks, Ronnie... One hundred and fifty... One hundred... Fifty... How about it? Just a few small rocks, and - that's peculiar - what looks like broken glass all over the place - someone's had a wild party here... Fifty... Fifty... Still OK?"

  "Perfect. Go down."

  "Forty... thirty... twenty... Sure you don't want to change your mind?... Ten... Kicking up a little dust, as Neil said once - or was it Buzz?... Five... Contact! Easy, wasn't it? Don't know why they bother to pay me."

  48: Lucy

  Hello, Gany Central - we've made a perfect landing - I mean Chris has - on a flat surface of some metamorphic rock - probably the same pseudogranite we've called Havenite. The base of the mountain is only two kilometers away, but already I can tell there's no real need to go any closer.

  "We're putting on our top-suits now, and will start unloading in five minutes. Will leave the monitors running, of course, and will call on every quarter-hour. van out."

  "What did you mean by that 'no need to go any closer'?" asked Floyd.

  van der Berg grinned. In the last few minutes he seemed to have shed years, and almost to have become a carefree boy.

  "Circumspice," he said happily. "Latin for 'look around you'. Let's get the big camera out first - wow!"

  The Bill Tee gave a sudden lurch, and for a moment heaved up and down on its landing-gear shock absorbers with a motion that, if it had continued for more than a few seconds, would have been a recipe for instant sea sickness.

  "Ganymede was right about those quakes," said Floyd, when they had recovered. "Is there any serious danger?"

  "Probably not; it's still thirty hours to conjunction, and this looks a solid slab of rock. But we won't waste any time here - luckily we won't need to. Is my mask straight? It doesn't feel right."

  "Let me tighten the strap. That's better. Breathe in hard - good, now it fits fine. I'll go first."

  van der Berg wished that his could be the first small step, but Floyd was the commander and it was his duty to check that the Bill Tee was in good shape - and ready for an immediate take-off.

  He walked once around the little spacecraft, examining the landing gear, then gave the thumbs-up signal to van der Berg, who started down the ladder to join him. Although he had worn the same lightweight breathing equipment on his exploration of Haven, he felt a little awkward with it, and paused at the landing pad to make some adjustments. Then he glanced up - and saw what Floyd was doing.

  "Don't touch it!" he cried. "It's dangerous!"

  Floyd jumped a good metre away from the shards of vitreous rock he was examining. To his untrained eye, they looked rather like an unsuccessful melt from a large glass furnace.

  "It's not radioactive, is it?" he asked anxiously. "No. But stay away until I've got there."

  To his surprise, Floyd realized that van der Berg was wearing heavy gloves. As a space officer, it had taken him a long time to grow accustomed to the fact that, here on Europa, it was safe to expose one's bare skin to the atmosphere. Nowhere else in the Solar System - even on Mars - was that possible.

  Very cautiously, van der Berg reached down and picked up a long splinter of the glassy material. Even in this diffused light, it glittered strangely, and Floyd could see that it had a vicious edge.

  "The sharpest knife in the known universe," said van der Berg happily.

  "We've been through all this to find a knife!"

  van der Berg started to laugh, then found it wasn't easy inside his mask.

  "So you still don't know what this is about?"

  "I'm beginning to feel I'm the only one who doesn't."

  van der Berg took his companion by the shoulder, and turned him to face the looming mass of Mount Zeus. From this distance, it filled half the sky - not merely the greatest, but
the only mountain on this whole world.

  "Admire the view just for one minute. I have an important call to make."

  He punched a code sequence on his comset, waited for the READY light to flash, and said: "Ganymede Central 109 - this is van. Do you receive?"

  After no more than the minimum timelag, an obviously electronic voice answered:

  "Hello, van. This is Ganymede Central 109. Ready to receive."

  van der Berg paused, savouring the moment he would remember for the rest of his life.

  "Contact Earth Ident Uncle 737. Relay following message. LUCY IS HERE. LUCY IS HERE. End message. Please repeat."

  Perhaps I should have stopped him saying that, whatever it means, thought Floyd, as Ganymede repeated the message. But it's too late now. It will reach Earth within the hour.

  "Sorry about that, Chris," grinned van der Berg. "I wanted to establish priority - amongst other things."

  "Unless you start talking soon, I'll begin carving you up with one of these patent glass knives."

  "Glass, indeed! Well, the explanation can wait - it's absolutely fascinating, but quite complicated. So I'll give you the straight facts.

  "Mount Zeus is a single diamond, approximate mass one million million tons. Or, if you prefer it that way, about two times ten to the seventeenth carats. But I can't guarantee that it's all gem quality."

  VII: THE GREAT WALL

  49: Shrine

  As they unloaded the equipment from Bill Tee and set it up on their little granite landing-pad, Chris Floyd found it hard to tear his eyes away from the mountain looming above them. A single diamond - bigger than Everest! Why, the scattered fragments lying round the shuttle must be worth billions, rather than millions.

  On the other hand, they might be worth no more than - well, scraps of broken glass. The value of diamonds had always been controlled by the dealers and producers, but if a literal gem-mountain came suddenly on the market, prices would obviously collapse completely. Now Floyd began to understand why so many interested parties had focused their attention upon Europa; the political and economic ramifications were endless.

  Now that he had at last proved his theory, van der Berg had become again the dedicated and single-minded scientist, anxious to complete his experiment with no further distraction. With Floyd's help - it was not easy to get some of the bulkier pieces of equipment out of Bill Tee's cramped cabin - they first drilled a metre-long core with a portable electric drill, and carried it carefully back to the shuttle.

  Floyd would have had a different set of priorities, but he recognized that it made sense to do the harder tasks first. Not until they had laid out a seismograph array and erected a panoramic TV camera on a low, heavy tripod did van der Berg condescend to collect some of the incomputable riches lying all around them.

  "At the very least," he said, as he carefully selected some of the less lethal fragments, "they'll make good souvenirs."

  "Unless Rosie's friends murder us to get them."

  van der Berg looked sharply at his companion; he wondered how much Chris really knew - and how much, like all of them, he was guessing.

  "Not worth their while, now that the secret's out. In about an hour's time, the Stock Exchange computers will be going crazy."

  "You bastard!" said Floyd, with admiration rather than rancour. "So that's what your messsage was about."

  "There's no law that says a scientist shouldn't make a little profit on the side - but I'm leaving the sordid details to my friends on Earth. Honestly, I'm much more interested in the job we're doing here. Let me have that wrench, please..."

  Three times before they had finished establishing Zeus Station they were almost knocked off their feet by quakes. They could feel them first as a vibration underfoot, then everything would start shaking - then there would be a horrible, long-drawn-out groaning sound that seemed to come from every direction. It was even air-borne, which to Floyd seemed strangest of all. He could not quite get used to the fact that there was enough atmosphere around them to allow short-range conversations without radio.

  van der Berg kept assuring him that the quakes were still quite harmless, but Floyd had learned never to put too much trust in experts. True, the geologist had just been proved spectacularly right; as he looked at Bill Tee heaving on its shock-absorbers like a storm-tossed ship, he hoped that van's luck would hold for at least a few more minutes.

  "That seems to be it," said the scientist at last, to Floyd's great relief. "Ganymede's getting good data on all channels. The batteries will last for years, with the solar panel to keep recharging them."

  "If this gear is still standing a week from now, I'll be very surprised. I'll swear that mountain's moved since we landed - let's get off before it falls on top of us."

  "I'm more worried," laughed van der Berg, "that your jet-blast will undo all our work."

  "No risk of that - we're well clear, and now we've offloaded so much junk we'll need only half-power to lift. Unless you want to take aboard a few more billions. Or trillions."

  "Let's not be greedy. Anyway, I can't even guess what this will be worth when we get it to Earth. The museums will grab most of it, of course. After that - who knows?"

  Floyd's fingers were flying over the control panel as he exchanged messages with Galaxy.

  "First stage of mission completed. Bill Tee ready for take-off. Flight plan as agreed."

  They were not surprised when Captain Laplace answered.

  "You're quite certain you want to go ahead? Remember, you have the final decision. I'll back you up, whatever it is."

  "Yessir, we're both happy. We understand how the crew feels. And the scientific payoff could be enormous - we're both very excited."

  "Just a minute - we're still waiting for your report on Mount Zeus!"

  Floyd looked at van der Berg, who shrugged his shoulders and then took the microphone.

  "If we told you now, Captain, you'd think we were crazy - or pulling your leg. Please wait a couple of hours until we're back - with the evidence."

  "Hm. Not much point giving you an order, is it? Anyway - good luck. And from the owner as well - he thinks going to Tsien is a splendid idea."

  "I knew Sir Lawrence would approve," Floyd remarked to his companion. "And anyway - with Galaxy already a total loss, Bill Tee's not much extra risk, is it?"

  van der Berg could see his point of view, even though he did not entirely subscribe to it. He had made his scientific reputation; but he still looked forward to enjoying it.

  "Oh - by the way," Floyd said. "Who was Lucy - anybody in particular?"

  "Not as far as I know. We came across her in a computer search, and decided the name would make a good code word - everyone would assume it was something to do with Lucifer, which is just enough of a half-truth to be beautifully misleading....

  "I'd never heard of them, but a hundred years ago there was a group of popular musicians with a very strange name - the Beatles - spelled B-E-A-T-L-E-S, don't ask me why. And they wrote a song with an equally strange title: "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds". Weird, isn't it? Almost as if they knew..."

  According to Ganymede radar, the wreck of the Tsien lay three hundred kilometers west of Mount Zeus, towards the twilight zone and the cold lands beyond. Permanently cold they were, but not dark; half the time they were brilliantly lit by the distant Sun. However, even by the end of the long Europan solar day, the temperature was still far below freezing point. As liquid water could exist only on the hemisphere facing Lucifer, the intermediate region was a place of continual storms, where rain and hail, sleet and snow contended for supremacy.

  During the half-century since Tsien's disastrous landing, the ship had moved almost a thousand kilometers. It must have drifted - like Galaxy - for several years on the newly created Sea of Galilee, before coming to rest on its bleakly inhospitable shore.

  Floyd picked up the radar echo as soon as Bill Tee flattened out at the end of its second leap across Europa. The signal was surprisingly weak for so large a
n object; as soon as they broke through the clouds, they realized why.

  The wreck of the spaceship Tsien, first man-carrying vessel to land on a satellite of Jupiter, stood in the centre of a small, circular lake - obviously artificial, and connected by a canal to the sea, less than three kilometers away. Only the skeleton was left, and not even all of that; the carcass had been picked clean.

  But by what? van der Berg asked. There was no sign of life there; the place looked as if it had been deserted for years. Yet he had not the slightest doubt that something had stripped the wreck, with deliberate and indeed almost surgical precision.

  "Obviously safe to land," said Floyd, waiting for a few seconds to get van der Berg's almost absentminded nod of approval. The geologist was already videoing everything in sight.

  Bill Tee settled down effortlessly by the side of the pool, and they looked across the cold, dark water at this monument to man's exploring impulses. There seemed no convenient way of getting to the wreck, but that did not really matter.

  When they had suited up, they carried the wreath to the water's edge, held it solemnly for a moment in front of the camera, then tossed in this tribute from Galaxy's crew. It had been beautifully made; even though the only raw materials available were metal foil, paper and plastic, one could easily believe that the flowers and leaves were real. Pinned all over them were notes and inscriptions, many written in the ancient but now officially obsolete script rather than Roman characters.

  As they were walking back to the Bill Tee, Floyd said thoughtfully: "Did you notice - there was practically no metal left. Only glass, plastic, synthetics."

  "What about those ribs and supporting girders?"

  "Composite - mostly carbon, boron. Someone round here is very hungry for metal - and knows it when it sees it. Interesting..."

  Very, thought van der Berg. On a world where fire could not exist, metals and alloys would be almost impossible to make, and as precious as - well, diamonds.