The Spheres of Heaven Read online

  Chan felt like saying, but I worked with those aliens on Travancore, and I liked them. I like them still. I just don't want them in the way if things get sticky in the Geyser Swirl and we have to protect ourselves.

  He didn't have the strength to speak, and General Korin was just hitting his stride.

  "However, we must not allow our natural disgust with these meddling beings to interfere with our primary goal. First, we will cooperate with them in our journey to the Geyser Swirl, so as to produce an end to the quarantine. Then we must assure our permanent access to the Link Network. We must learn how it was that they were able, twenty years ago, to place the embargo on us. I am told that will be much easier to do once we are again using the Link Network on a regular basis. And beyond that, we must pursue our long-term plan: to assert our dominance, to establish a pax Solis everywhere within the Perimeter—and then extend that perimeter."

  No point in mentioning to the General that there was already peace everywhere within the Perimeter. Well, almost everywhere. Let's say, everywhere that humans were not in control. And Chan had no objection to increasing the human sphere of influence; he was in fact in favor of it, provided there was something in it for him. But did Korin have to be so loud about the matter, so early in the day? Chan took a drink of cold water.

  How long would it take the expedition to reach and explore the Geyser Swirl? That started another thought. It wasn't just Dag Korin, it was also the other crew members of the Hero's Return. Who would they be, and what would they be like? Chan expected a battle regarding the composition of the crew. There would be room for far more people than the three apparent incompetents running the Mood Indigo. The General would surely propose some absurd collection of his military minions.

  One of Korin's own candidates was in the room. She sat at the back, as far from the General as possible. She must have heard him speak before. She had been introduced by Dougal MacDougal at the beginning of the meeting, but Chan could not recall her full name. Dr. Elke Somebody. Some kind of scientist proposed by the General. She had shaken hands with Chan and stared down at him—she was very tall and blond and anorexic-looking—as though he was some kind of slime-mold at the bottom of a pond. Her last name had an `s' at the beginning, which she had spoken with a slight lisp. Th-iry, that's what it sounded like.

  That was it: Elke Siry; a proposed crew member in need of a good square meal, but otherwise an unknown so far as Chan was concerned. Just as Dag Korin was a partial unknown. That was bad. One thing you learned, the hard way, was that before you went into a dangerous situation you needed to know your companions inside and out.

  Not only that, if you had any sort of choice you didn't let other people decide your teammates. You picked them yourself. Your ass was going to be on the line, not Dougal MacDougal's or any other Ceres bureaucrat's.

  Chan had recognized that from the start. He had sent the word out. But where were they? He had not heard back from a single one. So much for so-called old friends. They were as bad at keeping in touch as he was. On the other hand, could he be sure his messages had reached them?

  Crash, crash. Loud, foghorn voice, rivets driving into his skull. " . . . If, indeed, the story of a new Link point in the Geyser Swirl, previously unknown to the Stellar Group and not created by them, is true. Suppose that we are being lured to the Geyser Swirl. Suppose that the aliens . . ."

  Chan was as suspicious of motives as the next man, but he couldn't compete with this. Who could Dag Korin possibly be shouting at? Not Chan Dalton, who sat just a few feet away. Somebody on the far side of the Moon, judging from the volume of sound. Crash crash, turn, quick march back across the polished floor.

  Chan couldn't stand any more. He lurched to his feet, almost overbalancing in the negligible gravity of Ceres. "Excuse me."

  General Korin halted in mid-stride and mid-sentence. He stared at Chan with impatient eyes. "Do you have a question?"

  "Yes. What makes you think that anything the aliens have told us about this is true?"

  Korin stared. It must be a novelty, finding someone more paranoid than he was. "Are you suggesting—"

  "Yes, I am. I think that every single thing we've been told by the aliens about events in the Geyser Swirl is a lie. When we go there, we must be prepared to deal with any form of chicanery and deception. I have not met the crew you are proposing for the Return, but do they include specialists in trickery and bluffing, or in the fine art of the double cross?"

  Chan could read the look on the General's face. Surprise and suspicion, giving way to conviction and accusation as Korin turned to Dougal MacDougal.

  "Dalton is quite right. We must be prepared for every form of misinformation from the aliens. As for our crew, Dalton, you are looking at it. I believe that this expedition will be best served by a minimal and flexible force. You. Me. And Dr. Siry. The ship runs itself. Are you suggesting that we need more military?"

  "Of course not. So far as I know, solar military doesn't have specialists in deception and bluffing. I don't know where you would find people like that. But I know where I will." At least, I know where I'll be looking for them. "Give me one week—no, make that ten days—and permit me unlimited travel around the solar system. I will find the men and women we need."

  "Civilian government workers?" Dag Korin's tone implied that he would rather work with a complement of toads.

  "Not quite that."

  "But they have experience operating in a highly structured and defined environment?"

  "Oh, sure." Presumably time in prison counted. "Look, don't worry about these people. You carry on planning, but expect up to six more people on board the Return. I must go now."

  Before I pass out. Chan didn't wait to hear the Ambassador and the General squabbling over personnel. He had ten days. Ten days to locate the members of the old team and contact them, wherever they were; ten days to persuade them—if he could—that there was still something in it for them after all these years, if only they would travel with Chan to the Geyser Swirl.

  No need to discuss Dag Korin with them. They would have plenty of time to learn the General's little ways on the way to the Geyser Swirl.

  5: ABOARD THE MOOD INDIGO

  "I don't believe you. You've made a mistake." Friday Indigo nodded toward the cup in Bony's hand. "That's water. What else could it be?"

  "I don't know." Bony sniffed at the cup. "I agree, it smells like water and it looks like water. But it's fifteen percent denser than the drinking water we have on board."

  "You're missing the obvious, Rombelle. As usual. Don't you see what this is? It's brine—salt water. If you had ever been on Earth, as I have, you would know."

  "I have been on Earth." Bony cursed to himself. In his irritation with Friday Indigo he was doing what he never did: giving details of his own background.

  "Then even you should have heard of the Dead Sea." Friday Indigo took the cup from Bony's hand. "The Dead Sea has so much salt in it, a person can't sink. If you step into it, you just bob around on the surface with your shoulders out of the water."

  "I know that, sir." Bony made a decision. He might be self-taught, but he had a near-perfect memory and he had taught himself a lot. If they were all going to die in the Geyser Swirl, he wouldn't be talked down to any more by a nitwit like Indigo. "The Dead Sea is close to a quarter salts by weight. Mainly sodium chloride, magnesium chloride, and calcium chloride. Its density is twenty percent higher than ordinary water, even more than what we have here."

  "So this is obviously somewhere between ordinary seawater on Earth, and the Dead Sea."

  "No. The taste of water so full of salts is reported to be absolutely disgusting by anyone who has ever sampled it. This is a bit salty, but quite drinkable. Try it for yourself."

  Friday Indigo did not seem keen on the idea, but he cautiously raised the cup and took a minute sip. "It tastes like water. Ordinary water, salt and carbonated."

  "That's right. Although I'm not sure the dissolved gas is carbon dioxide."r />
  "And still you say it isn't water? What that tells me, Rombelle, is that you don't know what you're talking about. And while you stand here and debate the mysterious properties of perfectly ordinary water, let me remind you that we remain stuck at the bottom of the sea. I don't want a discussion. I want to take the Mood Indigo back into space. So get to work." Indigo put his hand on Liddy Morse's arm as she seemed ready to follow Bony toward the lower level of the ship. "Not you, Liddy. It's been a tense few hours, and I think I've earned a little rest and recreation. Let's go."

  Liddy, to Bony's annoyance, bowed her head submissively. He descended the ladder alone, heading for the tiny room that served as his combined study and workshop. On the way he stopped at the galley and grabbed a double handful of candy bars. He wasn't sure that he would be able to work while Friday Indigo cavorted with Liddy above his head, but these might help.

  In the study he stuffed a whole candy bar into his mouth and pulled up data on the airlocks of the Mood Indigo. There were three of them, one at the front end of the ship and two at the rear. All of them presented problems. The forward one faced vertically upward, while the other two might have been damaged on impact with the seabed. He would have to make an inspection, but before that he wanted to know if they could be used as sea-locks, even in principle.

  He called up detailed schematics. It must be nice to be rich. Friday Indigo had bought a ship equipped with the best of everything, hardware and software. On the other hand, most of the test equipment had never been taken from its protective covers, and he could see from their access history that he was the first person to use these data routines.

  Bony studied the airlock geometry and mechanics and gradually lost himself in his task. The first part would be easy. You put on an ordinary space-suit and moved into an airlock. You closed the inner hatch, exactly as usual. Then you opened the outer hatch. Instead of air gushing out into vacuum, water came in. Depending on the airlock position and your own density, you either floated into the sea or you walked out onto the seabed.

  And then did what? Bony examined the characteristics of the suits. The air supply and air circulation were self-contained and would operate exactly as in space. The main question was thermal balance. The suit had to lose the heat generated internally by its occupant. That ought to be easier in water than in space, because you could lose heat by conduction and convection as well as by radiation.

  Easier in water. In spite of anything that Friday Indigo might say, it was not ordinary water. So what was it? Bony became aware of an idea that had been wandering around the fringes of his consciousness. He called for access to a completely different data base, and for on-line assistance. The next ten minutes flashed by as he and the ship's computer looked up basic physical constants and did calculations.

  At the end of that time Bony smacked his hand on the desktop. Yes! He still had to perform a couple of tests, but the ship carried a small mass spectrograph for use in calibrating the fusion drive, and that should be all he needed.

  He had been right; and so, oddly enough, had Friday Indigo. Bony decided he didn't want to think about Friday. He helped himself to another candy bar and forced himself back to his main task.

  So you were in your suit, wandering around in the sea outside the ship. You were making engineering modifications designed to allow you to use the auxiliary thrustors underwater—another design task to be solved—but you couldn't stay outside too long. You had to come back in through the airlock to replenish your suit supplies. Normally, that was straightforward. You simply entered the lock, closed the outer hatch, and flooded the lock with air to replace the hard vacuum of space.

  But it would not be a vacuum in the lock. It would be at least partly water, the water that entered when you opened the hatch to go outside. Therefore, you could not close the outer hatch when you flooded the lock with air. You had to leave the hatch open. The hatch could not be at the top of the lock, either, otherwise the air would just bubble up toward the surface and be lost. The hatch must be at the bottom of the lock, so new-pumped air would force water out. When all the water had gone, you could at last remove your suit, open the inner hatch, and enter the ship.

  Bony turned to the lock configurations. Given the present orientation of the Mood Indigo . . . forward lock, outer hatch faced upward, no good . . . aft lock Number One, outer hatch facing upward, no good. Aft lock Number Two, outer hatch facing downward—and it was slightly higher, which ought to mean it was clear of the seabed.

  Bony leaned back in triumph and was shocked to see Liddy Morse standing in front of him. He had been so engrossed in his work that he hadn't heard her come in.

  If she was here, it meant that she and Indigo . . . "Liddy. Are you all right?"

  "Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be?"

  "You and Indigo. I thought—did he—did the two of you—"

  "He's asleep. Stop worrying. He's not my favorite person, but I owe him something. He did buy out my contract, you know. You're not from Earth, so you can't imagine what life is like in the Gallimaufries. Believe me, I've had to put up with a lot worse than Friday Indigo." She was studying him. "You don't like to hear about him, do you?"

  "Not especially."

  "Then let's not talk about him. Tell me what you were doing before you knew I was here. You looked so happy and pleased with yourself."

  "I was working. Deciding how to get outside and come back inside. Liddy, I've figured out what's outside! What the liquid is."

  "Who was right, you or Indigo?"

  "Both of us."

  "You can't both be right."

  "We are. That's what's so strange. Do you know what hydrogen is?"

  "Of course I do."

  "But did you know that it can come in two forms? One of them is an atom where the nucleus is a proton, and there's one electron in orbit around it. That's the common form. But you can also have a form called deuterium, which has a nucleus, a deuteron, with one proton and one neutron. You still have one electron, so the chemical properties of deuterium are the same as hydrogen."

  "So?"

  "So you can make a molecule, a water molecule, with two atoms of hydrogen and one atom of oxygen. Or you can, just as well, make a kind of water molecule with two atoms of deuterium and one atom of oxygen. It's been known for centuries, it's called deuterium oxide, or heavy water—and it's about eleven percent more dense than ordinary water. It can be used just like ordinary water. You can bathe in it, you can cook with it. I'm pretty sure you can drink it, at least some, and not notice a difference. That's what we have outside the ship. We are sitting at the bottom of an ocean, but it's a heavy-water ocean."

  "Are you sure of this?"

  "Sure as I can be until I do the final tests of molecular weight. But assuming I'm right, it's good news. We can wander around outside in our suits and be quite safe. If we run low on water, we can even drink some. I suspect there are differences in diffusivity rates from ordinary water, and that could have long-term fatal effects, but . . ."

  She was laughing at him. Bony stopped talking. "I'm sorry. I get carried away. I'm boring you, aren't I?"

  "Of course you're not. I get such a kick out of watching you when an idea catches fire. You light up like a little kid."

  "Sure. Thanks."

  "Oh, stop that." Liddy pulled out the little chair on the other side of the desk and squeezed onto it. "Can't you recognize a compliment when you hear one? Now what are you doing?"

  What Bony was doing, not very successfully, was crumpling up candy wrappers and trying to count them at the same time. He was amazed at their number. "I tend to eat when I'm working."

  "Then you must have been absolutely slaving. And I interrupted you. I'll go away."

  "No. You can help me. If you don't mind."

  "I can't do that stuff to save my life." Liddy's wave took in the display of schematics, the computer dialog, and Bony's random notes on pressures and volumes.

  "I don't mean calculations. I need pract
ical help. Now we know what's out there, I'm ready to consider an EVA—a trip outside the ship. To do that, we have to make one of the airlocks work, underwater. I think I know how, but it's a two-person job. Are you free?"

  "I think so." Liddy caught Bony's unconscious glance upward. "Don't worry, he'll snore for at least another hour. He always does afterwards."

  "I don't believe it."

  "Indigo sleeps a lot."

  "I mean, I don't understand how he's able to sleep now. We're lost on the seabed of an unknown planet when we ought to be in open space. We're in a ship never designed for anything but space operations. We have no idea how we came here, or if we'll ever be able to get away. And he's asleep. How can anybody sleep at a time like this?"

  "You really don't know, do you?" Liddy, head to one side, was studying Bony. "I can tell you've never been rich. Neither have I, but I've been around wealthy people. Things are different when you're rich. Indigo bought me, you know."

  "That's terrible." Bony said the words automatically, but he was in some ways relieved. At least Liddy wasn't Friday Indigo's mate by choice.