"It isn't necessary. We'll learn more seeing something of the Explorer 6 than waiting. Why don't we meet you at the place where we're having lunch?
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"If you're sure. It's the staff dining room called Patagonia. I can give you directions. They will have given you deck plans already, no doubt?"
"Of course," Kyal affirmed confidently.
"Very well. Here's the one you need, on your screen now. What you do is go through the double doors you'll see ahead of you at the far end of the disembarkation hall . . ."
After checking at a reception point inside the docking port, they were soon lost in the labyrinth of galleries, shafts, and metal-walled corridors with color-coded floors leading off in all directions. They followed a terrace above an open area described as the Central Concourse, with staircases going up and down, and spaces opening off, and after negotiating a couple of communications nodes marked by emergency isolation doors where major sections of the structure joined, found themselves coming back into the Concourse again from a different direction. After asking directions, they eventually found the entrance to the Patagonia set a short distance back behind a sitting area part way along a pedestrian thoroughfare traversing the outer parts of the structure. This was where Casello was to meet them, but he had apparently yet to arrive. They settled down in a couple of the broad, padded chairs to wait, watching the intermittent flow of figures in work clothes, casual gear, and occasional crew uniforms going about their business. The section of roof above the pedestrian way in front of them was formed from curved window sections. Through it, framed on one side by the gray metallic lines of other parts of Explorer 6, was Earth itself. Not on a screen this time. Not electronic at all, or any other kind of reproduction. But real.
Kyal had harbored a fascination toward anything concerning Earth since his student days. It had been recognized as the only other planet in the Solar System that showed signs of supporting life long before the first probes were sent, making it an object of widespread curiosity and speculation. Then had come the excitement of the first pictures transmitted back from orbit, followed shortly thereafter by the incredible scenes captured by surface landers. Ever since those first days of actual exploration, Kyal had devoured the news from the first manned expeditions and reports of findings that had poured forth subsequently as a major interest aside from his own principal work. And now it was really out there, shining above is head, and he was a part of that work.
He picked out the bulging coastline of the southern continent that had been known as Africa, home of the darkest Terran race. Farther north, reconstructed more from memory than visible among the curving ranks of cloud, would be Europe, which along with the northern part of the double continent America, lost in the curvature across the ocean to the west, seemed to have originated most of the lighter skins. How the various groups came to be as mixed as they had was not yet clear. There were different types on Venus as well, but they tended to coexist in their own areas. Occasionally—more so in the past—there had been instances of conflict between some of them, but nothing like the wars that raged on Earth, with enormous industries dedicated to supplying and promoting them.
On the basis of what had been found, views of the Terrans were mixed. On the one hand, they seemed to have been a callous and violent people, producing societies based on enforced conformity and obedience, and holding conquest and the exploitation of others as their dominant imperative in life. Yet at the same time they could be highly artistic, creative, and sensitive to the misfortunes of others. They had devised weapons horrible enough annihilate whole cities and ruthlessly massacred deviants from their own dogmas of belief. And yet some of their architecture and paintings were stunning. Nobody knew what had wiped them out. Many Venusians theorized from the records of progressively more destructive and insane wars that the Terrans must have brought it on themselves, but there was no direct evidence for such a conclusion.
Yorim looked up from the screen of the phone that he had been consulting. "Well, that's some good news," he announced. "Our bags have made it across from the ship okay. I figured it wouldn't do any harm to check."
"Better than finding out when they're halfway back to Venus," Kyal answered without turning his head.
Yorim followed his gaze across and up to the viewing windows. From the extent of the polar caps and the ice fields covering the higher mountain regions, Earth seemed to be going through a cool period compared to the time of its final habitation by humanoids. "So that's how they think home will look one day," he commented. It was generally established that Venus was a much younger planet than Earth, still shedding excess heat. "Cool and fresh, and lots of water. You know, Kyal, I think maybe we were born too soon. Somehow I feel more at home already."
"A lot of people who've been down there say that."
"The beaches. That's where I'm heading before we start work." It was usual for new arrivals to get a break at the end of the trip. "Have you seen the pictures? A mild Sun in a blue sky, and water clean enough to swim in as far as you can see. How about you?"
"Oh . . ." Kyal returned from his reverie of contemplation and looked up and down the gallery, scanning the faces of the people scattered along it. A squat, bearded figure in a dark blue tunic appropriate for occasions midway between casual-working and formal was just coming into view around a corner at the far end, walking quickly. Because of their appointment, Kyal and Yorim had put on neater attire than the sloppy shirts and sweaters and crew fatigues that had become normal during the voyage out. "Probably more academic and historical stuff."
"I could have guessed."
"I'll probably try and take in some of the ruins and cities."
Yorim made a dubious face. "More off-duty females on the beaches. Who are you going to find in the ruins?"
Kyal straightened up in his chair and indicated the direction along the gallery with a nod of his head. "That looks like him, coming this way now."
Casselo had already spotted them. They stood up as he approached. He had dark, curly hair and bright black eyes set in a knobby face with a nose perhaps a size too large for it. His manner as he approached seemed lively and energetic. Kyal made a short, half bow, which Yorim followed—although he sometimes stretched the normal familiarity bounds among compeers at times, he wouldn't overstep the line at the first meeting with a new boss. Casselo returned an inclination of the head, held briefly enough to denote seniority.
"Deputy Director Casselo?" Kyal said.
"My pleasure indeed. We meet finally."
"My colleague, Fellow Yorim Zeestran."
"The pleasure is doubled," Casselo said.
"But mine the honor," Yorim completed.
"Once again, I must offer apologies," Casselo told them.
"Greatly appreciated, but unnecessary," Kyal replied.
"Again, you are too generous." Casselo raised his eyebrows momentarily in a way that signaled a relaxing of formalities. "What can I tell you? We had a slight accident with some equipment just at the wrong moment."
"Nobody hurt, I hope?"
"Oh, no-no. . . . Well, since I've held everyone up, why don't we go straight in? They should be ready for us."
Casselo ushered them toward the doors, which opened on their approach. Inside was a traditionally arranged dining room with cloth-covered tables and draped walls bearing pictures of Terran landscapes. The place was fairly full with lunchtime diners, business or professional dress being seemingly the order of the day. A steward conducted them between tables to a corner booth that had been reserved. The ceiling contained a series of large shutters that were closed at the moment. The alignment of the room with the gallery outside suggested that they could be opened to give an outside view when required.
"This is something I hadn't expected," Kyal remarked, motioning with a hand to indicate the room as they sat down. "The standard you maintain here. It's very impressive."
"We try to do our best," Casselo repl
ied. "Can't afford to let anything more deteriorate. Enough has gone to ruin on Earth already."
Kyal smiled. "Is this where you eat every day?"
"Oh, not at all. The laboratory section has a cafeteria that goes better with regular working days. But this place does make a pleasant change when you're in the mood. And of course there are times when the company or the occasion requires it."
Yorim was studying the menu on one of the view pads provided. A short silence ensued while Kyal and Casselo consulted their own. The fare was mixed, with a number of sections dedicated to various types of Terran food, fish, meat, poultry, and vegetarian. Kyal decided he would postpone any such experimenting until another time and decided on a good, familiar Venusian dish that he hadn't tasted since before boarding the ship. The steward returned with impeccable timing and took the orders. When he had gone, Casselo looked across and spread his hands.
"So, welcome to Earth and to Explorer 6. And to my modest domain aboard it. We might not be here at all, but for the efforts of your father, Master Reen. Did you know that Director Sherven was a friend of his?"
"No, I didn't." Kyal was genuinely surprised. But if it were true, he hoped that it hadn't figured in the process of his being selected for this job. "That will make it even more of a privilege to serve here. Did they work together at some stage?"
"The Director can tell you about it himself when you meet him, if he wishes," Casselo said.
For Kyal, the assignment to the Earth Expedition carried more than just academic and professional significance. His father, Jarnor Reen, had been a prominent scientific and philosophical figure on Venus, who had played a major role in the development of space electromagnetics and been a driving force for mounting an Earth exploration program when probes sent back the first pictures telling of a former civilization there. Being a part of that exploration now was a fitting way of paying a tribute to his father's work.
Casselo turned toward Yorim. "Well, we've heard about the son of Jarnor Reen from Ulange. What about yourself, Fellow Zeestran? You are from Gallenda, I understand?" Gallenda was a nation in Venus's mid-temperate northern continent. The northern and southern oceans didn't connect.
Yorim nodded. Although he'd had the ship's barber trim his hair, he rather liked the look of his facial growth, he had confided to Kyal, and so had declined shaving. The sight of Casselo's luxuriant beard had probably put him at ease on that particular score. "From the southern part. A small town along the coast from Beaconcliff."
"I know that area," Casselo said. "I taught a course in nuclear generating at the National Engineering College in Beaconcliff years ago. You're from one of the places that's lucky enough to have a coast."
"The part that isn't swamp, anyway," Yorim agreed. "I captained the college first-league longball team at Beaconcliff. That was where I took electrogravitics."
"I'm well aware of your qualifications in electrogravitics," Casselo went on. "You wouldn't be here now if they weren't exceptional. We'll have to show you the Explorer 6's polarizing system while you're up here. Maybe after lunch, while Master Reen is talking administrative matters with the Director."
"I'd be interested to see it. If it's no imposition."
"None at all. A pleasure."
Casselo was referring to the layers of "hi-polar" material built into the floors of Venusian spacecraft and orbiting platforms. Gravity emerged as a residual effect of the electrical nature of matter. Although atoms were neutral as a whole, they deformed under stress to form electrostatic dipoles, in which the charges were not distributed uniformly but concentrated in distinct regions. Within a system of atomic dipoles—for instance, a piece of ordinary matter—the like parts repelled and the unlike parts attracted, but arranging themselves in such a way that the two effects didn't quite cancel. The mutual attraction ended up slightly greater than the mutual repulsion. Very slightly. The resultant force was forty orders of magnitude smaller than the unneutralized electrical force between the same particles. The effect was self-reinforcing, yielding a force that intensified with the amount of material present—in other words, its mass. On the basis of that principle, another branch of the same technology that had yielded electrical space propulsion had developed, enabling such forces to be induced artificially.
"Explorer has a free-fall gym here as well," Cassello informed them. "The G-polarizers switched off." He looked back at Yorim. "Perhaps you'd like to see that too?"
"Yes, I would," Yorim said. "We've seen videos of it. There wasn't room for anything like that on the ship. It looks like fun."
"Well, we'll see what we can do," Casselo promised.
Terran spacecraft and orbiting stations had been free-fall gyms everywhere, Kyal reflected. Sometimes it had taken months for them to recover normal muscle tone and bone strength after extended tours. They must have been a tough bunch.
"You don't waste very much time," Yorim commented to Casselo.
"Wasting time would be robbing the old man who will one day have my name." Casselo said.
Kyal smiled. "I see that my father wasn't the only philosopher."
Casselo thought about it for a second or two. "I don't know about that," he said finally. "Now is the only time in which anything gets done. Everything else is either already done, not done, or yet to do."
A philosopher and yet a pragmatist, Kyal thought to himself. He had the feeling they would all get along just fine.
CHAPTER THREE
The office of Filaeyus Sherven, Scientific Director of the Earth Exploration Expedition, was located on the highest of several administrative decks contained in a prominent superstructure on the main section of Explorer 6, termed the Directorate. Kyal's first impressions on being shown in after he had left Yorim and Casselo to go their own way were more of a control room—which, he supposed, in many ways it was. The walls in front and to the right of the immense concave desk seemed to consist mainly of panels and screens, with the section of the right-hand wall immediately opposite the desk opening through as an arch to a small private conference area. The wall along the left side was practically all glass. Beyond it was the Earth and its moon partly obscured behind, both half-lit, and a starfield of density and brilliance that after twelve weeks in space were now familiar. In the foreground, a craft that looked like a surface shuttle had just detached from the docking port section protruding below the Directorate and was coasting to distance itself before accelerating away.
Sherven was tall, probably in his 60s, but still holding himself upright, Kyal saw as the Director rose to greet him. He had steel-gray hair, receding at the temples above hollowed but firm-lined features with high cheeks and a prominent chin. His bearing and manner as they went through the formalities conveyed self-assurance and the composure that comes from a long and successful career, an established social position, and solid reputation. He would hardly have been made scientific head of the Earth Exploration Expedition had things been otherwise. After they sat down, he opened in a way that sounded a bit set-piece, either because he had rehearsed it or it was his standard line for welcoming newcomers.
"I'm very happy to have you join us, Master Reen. I expect both of us to benefit from your stay here. You will find it a unique opportunity to play a key part in what is undoubtedly the most exciting scientific venture of our times. There is a whole new world to be opened up, immeasurably rich, varied, and vibrant in itself, and yet with the added fascination of a lost race and its history to reconstruct. We have lots of work ahead of us. Let me add my personal thanks to you for being willing to take a share of it."
"The thanks are all mine for being permitted to," Kyal answered.
Sherven tossed out a hand in the general direction of one of the groups of screens vaguely, and his manner lost a little of its stiffness. "Something new turns up every day here. A report came in only this morning of a part of a library that's been uncovered in a city of the large southern continent—Australia. The linguists there and up here are all excited. Were already getting reques
ts for some of the material from translators back home on Venus. It's ironic that Terran paper records are among the most sought-after. Isn't it strange? With the right spectral analysis, all kinds of invisible things can be made to appear. Electronic media turn out to be all but useless. Degradation has wiped most of them clean. And in the few cases where there is anything detectable, it's impossible to decode. You'd need the original equipment. The things that were carved in stone by earlier cultures thousands of years before actually lasted the best. Maybe they weren't so backward."
Kyal smiled and acknowledged with a nod.
"Anyhow . . ." Sherven sat forward, bringing his elbows onto the desk, "to more immediate matters. Deputy Director Casselo moves around a lot. He's nominally based here, but also spends a lot of his time down at Rhombus." Rhombus was one of the main surface bases, in the center of the main Euro-Asian-African land mass. "You'll be running your own operation out at Luna, alongside the ISA people there who conducted the preliminary diggings and survey. They'll provide whatever support and services you need. At present they're headed by somebody called Brysek, a good man I'm told. Any questions on any of that?"
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