Looking directly at the Sun brought a strange detachment in Jacob. Dimmed, but not red tuned, its light bathed those inside the dome in an energizing glow. Streamers of sunshine seemed to caress Jacob’s forehead.
It was as if he had, like some ancient lizard seeking more than warmth, exposed every part of his self to the Lord of Space and, under those fires, felt a pulling force, a need to go.
He felt an uneasy certainty. Something lived in that furnace. Something terribly old, and terribly aloof.
Beneath the dome, men and machines stood on a fused plate of iron silicate. Jacob craned his head back to look at the huge pylon that filled the center of the chamber and protruded from the top of the stasis shield, into the hot Mercurial sunshine.
At its tip were the masers and lasers which kept Hermes Base in touch with Earth, and, via a net of synchronous satellites, orbiting 15 million kilometers above the surface, followed the Sunships down into the Maelstrom of Helios.
The maser beam was busy now. One retinal pattern after another flew at lightspeed to the computers at home. It was tempting to imagine riding that beam back to Earth, to blue skies and waters.
The Retinal Reader was a. small machine attached to the laser optics of the Library-designed computer system. The reader was essentially a large eyepiece against which a human user could press cheek and forehead. The optical input did the rest.
Although the E.T.’s were exempted from the search for Probationers (there was no way they could qualify, and there certainly weren’t any retinal codes on file for the few thousand galactics in (’the solar system) Culla insisted on being included. As Jeffrey’s friend he claimed a right to participate, however symbolically, in the investigation of the chimpanzee scientist’s death. Culla had trouble fitting his huge oculars one at a time into the pieces. He was very still for a long time. Finally, at a musical tone, the alien walked away from the machine.
The operator adjusted the height of the eyepiece for Helene deSilva.
Jacob’s turn came then. He waited until the eyepiece was adjusted, then pressed his nose, cheek, and forehead against the stops and opened his eyes.
A blue dot shone inside. Nothing else. It reminded Jacob of something, but he couldn’t focus on what. It seemed to turn around and sparkle as he looked, eluding analysis, like the shining of somebody’s soul.
Then the musical tone told him his turn was over. He stepped back and made room, as Kepler came forward, leaning on Millie Marline’s arm. The scientist smiled as he passed Jacob.
Now that’s what it reminded me of! he thought. The dot had been like a twinkle in a man’s eye.
Oh well, it fits, Computers can just about think today. There are some that are supposed to have a sense of humor, even. Why not this as well? Give the computers eyes to flash, and arms to put akimbo. Let them cast meaningful glances or stares that would kill if only stares could. Why should they not, the machines, begin to take on the aspect of those whom they absorb?
LaRoque submitted to the Reader, looking confident. When he finished, he sat aloof and silent under the gaze of Helene deSilva and several of her crew.
The Base Commandant had refreshments brought in, as everyone connected with the Sundiver ships took his or her turn at the Reader. Many of the technicians grumbled at the interruption of their work. Jacob had to admit, as he watched the procession pass, that it was an awful lot of effort to go through. He had never thought Helene would want to check on everybody.
DeSilva had offered a partial explanation in the elevator on the way up. After putting Kepler and LaRoque in separate cars, she had ridden with Jacob.
“One thing confuses me,” he had said.
“Only one thing?” she smiled grimly.
“Well, one thing stands out. If Dr. Kepler accuses LaRoque of sabotaging Jeff’s ship, why does he object to taking Bubbacub and Fagin on a followup dive, whatever the result of this investigation? If LaRoque is guilty that would mean that the next dive will be perfectly safe with him out of the way.”
DeSilva looked at him for a moment, pondering.
“I guess if there’s anyone on this base I can confide In it’s you, Jacob. So I’ll tell you what I think.
“Dr. Kepler never did want any E.T. help on this program. You’ll understand that I’m telling you this in strict confidence, but I’m afraid the usual balance between humanism and xenophilia that most spacemen get might have swung a bit too far in his case. His background makes him bitterly opposed to the Danikenite philosophy, and I suppose that converts into a partial distrust of aliens. Also, a lot of his colleagues have been thrown out of work by the Library. For a man who loves research as much as he, it must have been hard.
“I’m not saying he’s a Skin or anything like that! He gets along with Fagin pretty well and manages to hide his feelings around other Eatees. But he might say that if one dangerous man got on Mercury, another could, and use our guests’ safety as an excuse to keep them off his ships.”
“But Culla’s been on almost every dive.”
DeSilva shrugged.
“Culla doesn’t count. He’s a Client.
“I do know one thing, though; I’m going to have to go over Dr. Kepler’s head if this proves out. Every man on this base is having his identity cheeked and Bubba-cub and Fagin go on the next dive if I have to shanghai them I’m not going to let the slightest rumor get around that human crews are unreliable!”
She nodded with her jaw set. At the time Jacob thought her grimness was excessive. Though he could understand her feelings, it was a shame to masculinize those lovely features. At the same time he wondered if Helene was being totally candid on her own motivations.
A man who stood waiting by the maser link tore off a slip of message tape and carried it to deSilva. There was a tense silence as everyone watched her read. Then, grimly, she motioned to several of the husky crewmen who stood by.
“Place Mr. LaRoque under detention. He’s to be returned on the next ship out.”
“On what charge!” LaRoque shouted. “You cannot do this, you, you Neanderthaler woman! I will see that you pay for this insult!”
DeSilva looked down at him as if he were a form of insect. “For now the charge is illegal removal of a probationary transmitter. Other charges may be added later.”
“Lies, lies!” LaRoque shrieked as he leapt up. A crewman seized his arm and pulled him, choking with rage, toward the elevators.
DeSilva ignored them and turned to Jacob. “Mr. Demwa, the other ship will be ready in three hours. I’ll go tell the others.
“We can sleep en route. Thanks again for the way you handled things downstairs.”
She turned away before he could answer, giving orders in a low voice to crewmen who clustered about, efficiency masking her anger at the news: a Probationer in space!
Jacob watched for a few minutes as the dome slowly emptied. A death, a wild chase, and now a felony. So what, he thought, if the only felony proven so far is one I’d probably commit if I ever became a P.P.… it does mean that there’s a good chance that LaRoque caused the death as well.
As much as he disliked the man, he had never thought him capable of cold-blooded murder, in spite of those wicked swipes with the plastic cudgel.
At the back of his mind Jacob could feel his other half rubbing hands gleefully… amorally delighted at the mysterious twists and turns the Sundiver case had taken and clamoring now to be set loose. Forget it.
Dr. Martine approached him near the elevator. She appeared to be in shock.
“Jacob… you, you don’t think Pierre could kill that silly little fellow, do you? I mean, he likes chimpanzees!”