Lucky and Bigman watched as their luggage was removed, shook hands gravely with Reval and Johnson, and took a skimmer to the Hotel Bellevue-Aphrodite.
Bigman looked out of the curved window as their skimmer, its gyro-wings revolving with stately dignity, moved lightly among the city's beams and over its rooftops.
He said, "So this is Venus. Don't know if it's worth going through so much for it, though. I'll never forget that ocean coming up at us!"
Lucky said, "I'm afraid that was just the beginning."
Bigman looked uneasily at his big friend. "You really think so?"
Lucky shrugged. "It depends. Let's see what Evans has to tell us."
The Green Room of the Hotel Bellevue-Aphrodite was just that. The quality of the lighting and the shimmer of it gave the tables and guests the appearance of being suspended beneath the sea. The ceiling was an inverted bowl, below which there turned slowly a large aquarium globe, supported by cunningly placed lift beams. The water in it was laced with strands of Venusian seaweed and in among it writhed colorful "sea ribbons," one of the most beautiful forms of animal life on the planet.
Bigman had come in first, intent on dinner. He was annoyed at the absence of a punch menu, disturbed by the presence of actual human waiters, and resentful over the fact that he was told that diners in the Green Room ate a meal supplied by the management and only that. He was mollified, slightly, when the appetizer turned out to be tasty and the soup, very good.
Then the music started, the domed ceiling gradually came to glowing life, and the aquarium globe began its gentle spinning.
Bigman's mouth fell open; his dinner was forgotten.
"Look at that," he said.
Lucky was looking. The sea ribbons were of different lengths, varying from tiny threads two inches long to broad and sinuous belts that stretched a yard or more from end to end. They were all thin, thin as a sheet of paper. They moved by wriggling their bodies into a series of waves that rippled down their full length.
And each one fluoresced; each one sparkled with colored light. It was a tremendous display. Down the sides of each sea ribbon were little glowing spirals of light: crimson, pink, and orange; a few blues and violets scattered through; and one or two striking whites among the larger specimens. All were overcast with the light-green wash of the external light. As they swam, the lines of color snapped and interlaced. To the dazzled eye they seemed to be leaving rainbow trails that washed and sparkled in the water, fading out only to be renewed in still brighter tints.
Bigman turned his attention reluctantly to his dessert. The waiter had called it "jelly seeds," and at first the little fellow had regarded the dish suspiciously. The jelly seeds were soft orange ovals, which clung together just a bit but came up readily enough in the spoon. For a moment they felt dry and tasteless to the tongue, but then, suddenly, they melted into a thick, sirupy liquid that was sheer delight.
"Space!" said the astonished Bigman. "Have you tried the dessert?"
"What?" asked Lucky absently.
"Taste the dessert, will you? It's like thick pineapple juice, only a million times better… What's the matter?"
Lucky said, "We have company."
"Aw, go on." Bigman made a move to turn in his seat as though to inspect the other diners.
Lucky said quietly, "Take it easy," and that froze Bigman.
Bigman heard the soft steps of someone approaching their table. He tried to twist his eyes. His own blaster was in his room, but he had a force knife in his belt pocket. It looked like a watch fob, but it could slice a man in two, if necessary. He fingered it intensely.
A voice behind Bigman said, "May I join you, folks?"
Bigman turned in his seat, force knife palmed and ready for a quick, upward thrust. But the man looked anything but sinister. He was fat, but his clothes fit well. His face was round and his graying hair was carefully combed over the top of his head, though his baldness showed anyway. His eyes were little, blue, and full of what seemed like friendliness. Of course, he had a large, grizzled mustache of the true Venusian fashion.
Lucky said calmly, "Sit down, by all means." His attention seemed entirely centered on the cup of hot coffee that he held cradled in Ms right hand.
The fat man sat down. His hands rested upon the table. One wrist was exposed, slightly shaded by the palm of the other. For an instant, an oval spot on it darkened and turned black. Within it little yellow grains of light danced and flickered in the familiar patterns of the Big Dipper and of Orion. Then it disappeared, and there was only an innocent plump wrist and the smiling, round face of the fat man above it.
That identifying mark of the Council of Science could be neither forged nor imitated. The method of its controlled appearance by the exertion of will was just about the most closely guarded secret of the Council.
The fat man said, "My name is Mel Morriss."
Lucky said, "I rather thought you were. You've been described to me."
Bigman sat back and returned his force knife to its place. Mel Morriss was head of the Venusian section of the Council. Bigman had heard of him. In a way he was relieved, and in another way he was just a little disappointed. He had expected a fight-perhaps a quick dash of coffee into the fat man's face, the table overturned, and from then on, anything.
Lucky said, "Venus seems an unusual and beautiful place."
"You have observed our fluorescent aquarium?"
"It is very spectacular," said Lucky.
The Venusian councilman smiled and raised a finger. The waiter brought him a hot cup of coffee. Morriss let it cool for a moment, then said softly, "I believe you are disappointed to see me here. You expected other company, I think."
Lucky said coolly, "I had looked forward to an informal conversation with a friend."
"In fact," said Morriss, "you had sent a message to Councilman Evans to meet you here."
"I see you know that."
"Quite. Evans has been under close observation for quite a while. Communications to him are intercepted."
Their voices were low. Even Bigman had trouble hearing them as they faced one, another, sipping coffee and allowing no trace of expression in their words.
Lucky said, "You are wrong to do this."
"You speak as his friend?"
"I do."
"And I suppose that, as your friend, he warned you to stay away from Venus."
"You know about that, too, I see?"
"Quite. And you had a near-fatal accident in landing on Venus. Am I right?"
"You are. You're implying that Evans feared some such event?"
"Feared it? Great space, Starr, your friend Evans engineered that accident."
3. Yeast!
LUCKY'S EXPRESSION REMAINED IMPASSIVE. Not by SO
much as an eye flicker did he betray any concern. "Details, please," he said.
Morriss was smiling again, half his mouth hidden by his preposterous Venusian mustache. "Not here, I'm afraid."
"Name your place, then."
"One moment." Morriss looked at his watch. "In just about a minute, the show will begin. There'll be dancing by sealight."
"Sealight?"
"The globe above will shine dim green. People will get up to dance. We will get up with them and quietly leave."
"You sound as though we are in danger at the moment."
Morriss said gravely, "You are. I assure you that since you entered Aphrodite, our men have never let you out of their sight."
A genial voice rang out suddenly. It seemed to come from the crystal centerpiece on the table. From the direction in which other diners turned their attention, it obviously came from the crystal centerpiece on every table.
It said, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Green Room. Have you eaten well? For your added pleasure, the management is proud to present the magnetonic rhythms of Tobe Tobias and his-"