And how would he react to this unexpected, and doubtless unwelcome, confrontation, when they were face to face? A little belatedly, it occurred to Duncan that a small platform fifty meters above the ground, and in this frightful gravity, was not the best place to have an argument. He smiled at the mental image this conjured up; whatever their disagreement, violence was unthinkable.
Well, not quite unthinkable. He had just thought of it…. Overhead now was a narrow band of perforated metal flooring, barely wide enough for the rectangular slot through which the stairway emerged. With a heartfelt sigh of relief, pulling himself upward with rust-stained hands,
Duncan climbed the last few steps and stood amid monstrous bearings, silent hydraulic motors, a maze of cables, much dismantled plumbing, and the delicate tracery of ribs supporting the now useless hundred-meter parabola.
There was still no sign of Karl, and Duncan began a cautious circumnavigation of the antenna mounting. The catwalk was about two meters wide, and the protective rail almost waist-high, so there was no real danger. Nevertheless, he kept well away from the edge and avoided looking at the fifty-meter drop.
He had barely completed half a circuit when all hell broke loose. There
was a sudden whirr of motors, the low booming of great machineries on the move—and even the occasional accompaniment of protesting shrieks from gears and bearings that did not wish to be disturbed.
On every side, the huge skyward-facing bowls were beginning to tam in unison, swinging around to the south. Only the one immediately overhead was motionless, like a blind eye no longer able to react to any stimulus. The din was quite astonishing, and continued for several minutes. Then it stopped as abruptly as it had started. CYCLOPs had located a new target for its scrutiny.
“Hello, Duncan,” said Karl in the sudden silence. “Welcome to Earth.”
He had emerged, while Duncan was distracted by the tumult, from a small cubicle on the underside of the parabola, and was now climbing down a somewhat precarious arrangement of hanging ladders. His descent looked particularly hazardous because he was using only one hand; the other was firmly clutching a large notebook, and Duncan did not relax until Karl was safely on the platform, a few meters away. He made no attempt to come closer, but stood looking at Duncan with a completely unfathomable expression, neither friendly nor hostile.
Then there was one of those embarrassing pauses when neither party wishes to speak first, and as it dragged on interminably Duncan became aware for the first time of an omnipresent faint hum from all around him. The cycLops array was alive now, its hundreds of tracking motors working in precise synchronism. There was no perceptible movement of the great antenna’s, but they would now be creeping around at a fraction of a centimeter a second.
The multiple facets of the CYCLOPs eye, having fixed their gaze upon the stars, were now turning at the precise rate needed to counter the rotation of the Earth.
How foolish, in this awesome shrine dedicated to the cosmos itself, for two grown men to behave like children, each trying to outface the other! Duncan had the dual advantage of surprise and a clear conscience; he would have nothing to lose by speaking first. He did
not wish to take the initiative and perhaps antagonize Karl, so it was best to open with some innocuous triviality.
No, not the weather-the amount of Terran conversation devoted to that was quite incrediblel-but something equally neutral.
“That was the hardest work I’ve done since I got here. I can’t believe that people really~ climb mountains on this planet.”
Karl examined this brilliant gambit for possible booby traps. Then he shrugged his shoulders and replied: “Earth’s tallest mountain is two hundred times as high as this. People climb it every year.”
At least the ice was broken, and communication had been established. Duncan permitted himself a sigh of relief; at the same time, now that they were at close quarters, he was shocked by Karl’s appearance. Some of that golden hair had turned to silver, and there was much less of it. In the year since they had last met, Karl seemed to have aged ten. There were crow’s-feet wrinkles of anxiety around his eyes, and his brow was now permanently furrowed. He also seemed to have shrunk considerably, and Earth’s gravity could not be wholly to blame, for Duncan was even more vulnerable to that.
On Titan, he had always had to look up at Karl; now, as they stood face to face, their eyes were level.
But Karl avoided his gaze and moved restlessly back and forth, firmly clutching the notebook he was stiff carrying. Presently he walked to the very edge of the platform and leaned with almost ostentatious recklessness against the protective rail.
“Don’t do that!” protested Duncan. “It makes me nervous.” That, he suspected, was the purpose of the exercise.
“Why should you care?”
The brusque answer saddened Duncan beyond measure. He could only reply: “If you really don’t know, it’s too late for me to explain.”
“Well, I know this isn’t a social visit. I suppose you’ve seen Calindy?”
“Yes. I’ve seen her.” “What are you trying to do?” 247 “I can’t speak for Calindy. She doesnt even know that I’m here.”
“What are the Makenzies trying to do? For the good of Titan, of course.”
Duncan knew better than to argue. He did not even feel angry at the calculated provocation.
“All I’m trying to do is to avoid a scandal-if it’s not too late.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know perfectly well. Who authorized your trip to Earth? Who’s paying your expenses?”
Duncan had expected Karl to show some signs of guilt, but he was mistaken.
“I have friends here. And I don’t recall that the Makenzies worried too much about regulations. How did Malcolm get the first Lunar orbital refueling contract?”
“That was a hundred years ago, when he was trying to get the Titan economy started. There’s no excuse now for financial irregularities. Especially for purely personal ends.”
This was, of course, a shot in the dark, but he appeared to have landed on some target. For the first time, Karl looked angry.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped back. “One day
Titan…”
CYCLOPS gently but firmly interrupted him. They had quite forgotten the slow tracking of the great antennas on every side, and were no longer even aware of the faint whirr of the hundreds of drive motors. Until a few seconds ago, the upper platform of 005 had been shielded by the inverted umbrella of the next bowl, but now its shadow was no longer falling upon them. The artificial eclipse was over, and they were blasted by the tropical sun.
Duncan closed his eyes until his dark glasses had adjusted to the glare.
When he opened them again, he was standing in a world divided sharply into night and day. Everything on one side was clearly visible, while in the shadow only a few centimeters away he could see absolutely nothing. The contrast between light and darkness, exaggerated by his