Lucky Starr And The Big Sun Of Mercury ls-4, Page 3

  "Wonderful! But now, Dr. Peverale, one question. What is your opinion of Dr. Mindes? I'd appreciate a frank answer without any consideration for such things as diplomacy."

  Peverale frowned. "Are you a sub-temporal engineer too?"

  "Not quite," said Lucky, "but I was asking about Dr. Mindes."

  "Exactly. Well"-and the astronomer looked thoughtful-"he is a pleasant young man, quite competent, I should think, but nervous, very nervous. He is easily offended, too easily offended. It has shown up as time has gone on and things have not been quite right with his project, and it is making him a little difficult to get along with. A pity, for as I say, he is a pleasant young man, otherwise. I am his superior, of course, while he is here at the Dome, but I don't really interfere with him. His project has no connection with our Observatory work."

  "And your opinion of Jonathan Urteil?"

  The old astronomer stopped walking on the instant. "What about him?"

  "How does he get along here?"

  "I am not interested in discussing the man," said Peverale.

  They walked on in silence for a short while. The astronomer's face was lowering.

  Lucky said, "Are there any other outsiders at the Dome? There are you and your men, Mindes and his men, and Urteil. Anyone else?"

  "The doctor, of course. Dr. Gardoma."

  "You do not consider him one of your own men?"

  "Well, he's a doctor and not an astronomer. He supplies the one service the Dome must have and can't use machinery for. He cares for our health. He's new here."

  "How new?"

  "He replaced our old doctor after the latter's one-year shift. Dr. Gardoma arrived on the same ship that carried Mindes's group, as a matter of fact."

  "One-year shift? Is that common for doctors here?"

  "And most of the men. It makes it difficult to keep up continuity, and it is hard to train a man and have him leave; but then, Mercury is not an easy place to remain, and our men must be replaced frequently."

  "Then in the last six months how many new men have you received here?"

  "Perhaps twenty. The exact figures are in our records, but twenty is about it."

  "Surely you yourself have been here quite a while."

  The astronomer laughed. "Many years. I hate to think how many. And Dr. Cook, my assistant director, has been here for six years. Of course we take vacations frequently… Well, here are your quarters, gentlemen. If there is anything you should wish, do not hesitate to inform me."

  Bigman looked about him. The room was a small one, but it held two beds that could fold up into a wall recess when not in use; two chairs of which the same was true; a one-piece desk-chair combination; a small closet; and an adjoining wash room.

  "Hey," he said, "a lot better than the ship, anyway, huh?"

  "Not bad," said Lucky. "This is probably one of their better rooms."

  "Why not?" said Bigman. "I guess he knows who you are."

  "I guess not, Bigman," said Lucky. "He thought I might be a sub-temporal engineer. All he knows is that the Council sent me."

  "Everyone else knows who you are," said Bigman.

  "Not everyone. Mindes, Gardoma, and Urteil… Look, Bigman, why don't you use the washroom? I'll have some food sent up and have them bring in the general utility kit from the Shooting Starr"

  "Suits me," said Bigman cheerily.

  Bigman sang loudly through the shower. As usual on a waterless world, the bath water was strictly rationed, with stern warnings on the wall as to the amount it was permissible to use. But Bigman had been born and bred on Mars. He had a huge respect for water and would no more think of splashing idly in it than in beef stew. So he used detergent copiously and water carefully and sang loudly.

  He stepped in front of the forced-hot-air dryer which tingled his skin with its jets of bone-dry air and slapped his body with his hands to enhance the effect.

  "Hey, Lucky," he yelled, "is there food on the table? I'm hungry."

  He heard Lucky's voice speaking softly but could make out no words.

  "Hey, Lucky," he repeated, and stepped out of the washroom. The desk had two steaming platters of roast beef and potatoes on it. (A slight sharpness in the aroma indicated the meat, at least, to be really a yeast imitation from the sub-sea gardens of Venus.) Lucky, however, was not eating, but sat on the bed and spoke into the room's Talkie.

  Dr. Peverale's face was gazing out of the receiving plate.

  Lucky said, "Well, then, was it general knowledge that this was to be our room?"

  "Not general knowledge, but I gave the order to prepare your room over an open hookup. There was no reason for secrecy as far as I could see. I suppose anyone might have overheard. Furthermore, your room is one of a few such that are reserved for distinguished guests. There is no secret about it."

  "I see. Thank you, sir."

  "Is anything wrong?"

  "Not at all," said Lucky, smiling, and broke connection. His smile disappeared and he looked thoughtful.

  "Nothing wrong, my foot," exploded Bigman. "What's up, Lucky? Don't tell me there isn't anything wrong."

  "Something is wrong, yes. I've been looking at the equipment here. These are special insulated suits for use on the Sun-side, I imagine."

  Bigman lifted one of the suits hanging in a special wall recess. It was amazingly light for its bulk, nor could that be attributed to Mercurian gravity, since gravity here in the Dome was maintained at Earth-normal.

  He shook his head. As usual, if he had to use a suit supplied him out of stock rather than one built to specifications, he would have to reduce all fittings to the minimum and even so find it inconvenient to use. He sighed resignedly. It was the penalty he paid for not being exactly tall. He always thought of it that way: "not exactly tall." He never thought of his five foot two as being actually "short."

  He said, "Sands of Mars, they've got everything here for us, all set and waiting. Bed. Bath. Food. Suits."

  "And something else too," said Lucky gravely. "Death is waiting in this room. See here."

  Lucky lifted one arm of the larger suit. The ball joint at the shoulder moved easily, but where it joined the shaft of the shoulder there was a tiny, all but unnoticeable gap. It would have been completely un-noticeable if Lucky's fingers had not spread it apart.

  It was a slash! Man-made, obviously! Insulation showed.

  "On the inner surface," said Lucky, "There's a similar slash. This suit would have lasted just long enough to get me out on the Sun-side, and then it would have killed me neatly."

  4. Over the Banquet Table

  "Urteil!" cried Bigman at once, with a ferocity that stiffened every muscle of his small body. "That dirty cobber… "

  "Why Urteil?" asked Lucky softly.

  "He warned us to watch our suits, Lucky. Remember?"

  "Of course. And it's exactly what I did."

  "Sure. He set it up for us. We find a slashed suit and we think he's a great guy. Then we're cold meat for him next time around. Don't fall for that, Lucky. He's a… "

  "Now wait, Bigman, wait! Don't make your mind up so fast. Look at it this way. Urteil said Mindes had tried to kill him, too. Suppose we believe him. Suppose Mindes had tried to gimmick Urteil's suit and Urteil had spotted it in time. Urteil would warn us to watch out for the same trick. Maybe Mindes did this."

  "Sands of Mars, Lucky, that can't be. This guy, Mindes, is ladled full of sleeping pills, and before that he wasn't out of our sight from the minute we got onto this miserable rock."

  "All right. How do we know Mindes is asleep and under medication?" asked Lucky.

  "Gardoma says… " began Bigman, and fell silent.

  "Exactly. Gardoma says! We haven't seen Mindes, though. We only know what Dr. Gardoma said, and Dr. Gardoma is a great friend of Mindes's."

  "The two of them are in it together," said Bigman, with instant conviction. "Jumping comets-- "

  "Wait, wait, don't you jump so. Great Galaxy, Big-man, I'm just trying to straighten out my th
oughts, and you take me up on everything." His tone was as disapproving as it could ever be with respect to his small friend. He went on, "Now you've complained a dozen times that I don't tell you everything on my mind until everything's done with. This is why, you blaster-happy nitwit. As soon as I advance a theory, you're off on a charge, all your weapons cocked and ready."

  "I'm sorry, Lucky," said Bigman. "Go ahead."

  "All right. Now Urteil is easy to suspect. Nobody likes him. Even Dr. Peverale doesn't. You saw how he reacted just to the mention of his name. We've met him only once and you dislike him-- "

  ''I'll say," muttered Bigman.

  "-while I don't exactly like him, either. Anyone can slash this suit and hope that suspicion will fall on Urteil if it should happen to be discovered, and it would be surely discovered after it's killed someone, if not before."

  "I see all that, Lucky."

  "On the other hand," went on Lucky smoothly, "Mindes has already tried to get rid of me with a blaster. If that were a serious attempt, he doesn't seem the type to do anything as indirect as suit-slashing. As for Dr. Gardoma, I don't see him involving himself in the murder of a Councilman just out of friendship for Mindes."

  "Then what's the decision?" cried Bigman impatiently.

  "There isn't any so far," said Lucky, "except maybe that we go to sleep." He turned down the bed sheets and stepped into the washroom.

  Bigman looked after him and shrugged his shoulders.

  Scott Mindes was sitting up in bed when Lucky and Bigman entered his quarters the next morning. He was pale and looked tired.

  "Hello," he said. "Karl Gardoma told me what happened. You don't know how sorry I am."

  Lucky passed it off with a shrug. "How do you feel?"

  "Wrung out but all right, if you know what I mean. I'll be at the dinner party old Peverale is giving tonight."

  "Is that wise?"

  "I won't leave Urteil there holding the fort," said Mindes, hatred suddenly flooding his face with momentary color, "telling everyone I'm crazy. Or Dr. Peverale, either, for that matter."

  "Dr. Peverale doubts your sanity?" asked Lucky softly.

  "Well… Look, Starr, I've been scouting the Sunside in a small rocket-scooter ever since the accidents started getting bad. I had to do it. It's my project. Twice, now, I-I've seen something."

  Mindes paused and Lucky prodded Mm. "Seen what, Dr. Mindes?"

  "I wish I could say for sure. I saw it only from a distance each time. Something moving. Something that looked human. Something in a space-suit. Not one of our inso-suits, our special insulated jobs, you know. It looked more like an ordinary space-suit. Ordinary metal, you know."

  "Did you try to get closer?"

  "Yes, and I lost it. And the photographs showed nothing either. Just spots of light and dark that might have been something, or nothing. But it was something, all right. Something that moved under the Sun as though it didn't care a thing for the heat and radiation. It would even stand still in the Sun for minutes at a time. That's what got me."

  "Is that strange? Standing still, I mean?"

  Mindes laughed shortly. "On the Mercury Sun-side? It sure is. Nobody stands still. Insulated suit and all, you go about your business as fast as you can and get out from under as fast as you can. This near the Terminator the heat isn't so bad. It's the radiation, though. It's just good practice to take as little of it as possible. The inso-suits aren't complete protection against gamma rays. If you must stand still, you move into the shade of a rock."

  "What's your explanation of it all?"

  Mindes's voice fell to an almost shamed whisper. "I don't think it's a man."

  "You're not going to say it's a two-legged ghost, are you?" said Bigman suddenly, before Lucky could nudge him into silence.

  But Mindes only shook his head. "Did I use that phrase on the surface? I seem to remember-- No, I think it's a Mercurian."

  "What?" cried Bigman, sounding as if he thought that were worse.

  "How else could it endure the Sun's radiation and heat so?"

  "Why would it need a space-suit then?" asked Lucky.

  "Well, I don't know." Mindes's eyes flashed, and a restless wildness settled upon them. "But it's something. When I got back to the Dome, every man and every suit could be accounted for each time. Dr. Peverale won't authorize an expedition to make a real search. He says we're not equipped for it."

  "Have you told him what you told me?"

  "He thinks I'm crazy. I'm sure of it. He thinks I'm seeing reflections and building men out of them in my imagination. But that's not so, Starr!"

  Lucky said, "Have you contacted the Council of Science?"

  "How can I? Dr. Peverale wouldn't back me. Urteil would say I was mad and they would listen to him. Who would listen to me?"

  "I would," said Lucky.

  Mindes sat up in bed with a jerk. His hand shot out as though it were ready to grasp the other's sleeve but then held back. He said, in a choked voice, "Then you'll investigate it?"

  "In my way," promised Lucky, "I will."

  The others were already at the banquet table that evening when Lucky and Bigman arrived. Above the hum of greeting that rose as they entered and the beginning of the introductions, there were obvious signs that the gathering was not entirely a pleasant one.

  Dr. Peverale sat at the head of the table, his thin lips set and his sunken cheeks quivering, the picture of dignity maintained under difficulty. At his left was the broad-shouldered figure of Urteil, lounging back in his chair, thick fingers playing delicately with the rim of a drinking glass.

  Toward the foot of the table was Scott Mindes, looking painfully young and tired as he stared with angry frustration at Urteil. Next to him was Dr. Gardoma, watching with an anxious and thoughtful eye as though ready to interfere in case Mindes grew rash.

  The remaining seats, except for two empty ones at Dr. Peverale's right, were occupied by several of the senior men of the Observatory. One in particular, Han-ley Cook, second in command at the Dome, leaned his tall, lean body forward and took Lucky's hand firmly in his own.

  Lucky and Bigman took their seats and the salads were served.

  Urteil said at once in a harsh voice that effectively took over the conversation, "We were wondering just before you came in whether young Mindes ought not to tell you of the great wonders in store for Earth as a result of his experiments."

  "No such thing," snapped Mindes, "and I'll do my own talking if you don't mind."

  "Oh, come on, Scott," said Urteil, grinning broadly, "don't be bashful. Well, then, look here, I'll tell the man."

  Dr. Gardoma's hand fell, as though by accident, on Mindes's shoulder, and the young engineer swallowed a cry of indignation and remained silent.

  Urteil said, "Now I warn you, Starr, this is going to be good. It… "

  Lucky interrupted, "I know something of the experiments. The grand result of an air-conditioned planet is quite possible, I think."

  Urteil scowled. "That so? I'm glad you're optimistic. Poor Scott can't even make the pilot experiment work. Or at least he says he can't, don't you, Scott?"

  Mindes half rose, but again Dr. Gardoma's hand was on his shoulder.

  Bigman's eyes traveled from speaker to speaker, resting on Urteil with black distaste. He said nothing.

  The arrival of the main course stopped the conversation momentarily, and Dr. Peverale tried desperately to turn it into less explosive channels. For a while he succeeded, but then Urteil, with the last of his helping of roast beef impaled on his fork, leaned toward Lucky and said, "So you go for the project Mindes is running, do you?"

  "I think it's a reasonable one."

  "You have to think that, being a member of the Council of Science. But what if I told you that the experiments here were phony; they could be run on Earth for one per cent of the cost if the Council were only interested enough in the taxpayers' money to save a little of it. What would you say if I told you that?"

  "The same thing I would say
if you told me anything at all," retorted Lucky composedly. "I would say, Mr. Urteil, that the chances are that you're lying. It's your greatest talent and, I believe, pleasure."

  Instantly a great silence fell on the banqueters, even on Urteil. His thick cheeks seemed to sag in surprise and his eyes to bulge. With sudden passion, he leaned directly across Dr. Peverale's place, rising from his seat and bringing his right hand down hard and flat just short of Lucky's platter.

  "No Council lackey-" he began in a roar.

  And as he did that, Bigman moved, too. No eye at the table saw the details of that move, since it flashed with the speed of a striking snake, but Urteil's roar ended in a shout of dismay.

  Urteil's hand, which had come down with such hard finality, now showed the carved metallic haft of a force-knife growing out of it.

  Dr. Peverale scraped his chair back suddenly, and there was a cry or an exclamation from every man there but Bigman himself. Even Lucky seemed startled.

  Bigman's tenor voice rose in delight. "Spread your fingers, you tub of mineral oil. Spread them and then grease back down into your seat."

  Urteil stared at his small tormenter without understanding for a moment and then very slowly spread his fingers. His hand was not hurt, not a sliver of skin had been removed. The force-knife stood quivering in the hard plastic table top, an inch of its waveringly luminescent force-blade (it wasn't matter, merely a thin field of immaterial force) in sight. The knife had entered the table, working its way neatly and unerringly between the second and third finger of Urteil's hand.

  Urteil snatched Ms hand away as though it were suddenly in flames.

  Bigman crowed with delight and said, "And next time you reach a hand in Lucky's direction or in mine, you cobber, I chop it right off. What would you say if I told you that? And whatever you say, say it politely." He reached out for the force-knife, deactivating the blade as he seized the haft, and returned it to its inconspicuous holster on his belt.

  Lucky said, with a light frown, "I wasn't aware that my friend was armed. I'm sure he's sorry for having disturbed the meal, but I believe Mr. Urteil may take this incident to heart."