Arthur Clarke - Earthlight

Their uncommunicative guide hurried them along almost at a trot, as if he did not wish them to see more than necessary. They entered the inner dome through a second airlock, where they removed their suits. Wheeler wondered glumly when they would be allowed to retrieve them again.

The length of the airlock indicated that the inner dome must be of tremendous thickness, and when the door ahead of them opened, both astronomers immediately noticed a familiar smell. It was ozone. Somewhere, not very far away, was high-voltage electrical equipment. There was nothing unduly remarkable about that, but it was another fact to be filed away for future reference.

The airlock had opened into a small corridor flanked by doors bearing painted numbers and such labels as PRIVATE, TECHNICAL STAFF ONLY, INFORMATION, STANDBY AIR, EMERGENCY POWER and CENTRAL CONTROL. Neither Wheeler nor Jamieson could deduce much from these notices, but they looked at each other thoughtfully when they were finally halted at a door marked SECURITY. Jamieson’s expression told Wheeler, as clearly as any words could do “I told you so!”

After a short pause a “Come In” panel glowed and the door swung automatically open. Ahead lay a perfectly ordinary office dominated by a determined-looking man at a very large desk. The size of the desk was itself a proclamation to the world that money was no object here, and the astronomers contrasted it ruefully with the office equipment to which they were accustomed. A teleprinter of unusually complicated design stood on a table in one comer, and the remaining walls were entirely covered by file cabinets.

“Well,” said the security officer, “who are these people?” “Two astronomers from the Observatory over in Plato. They’ve just dropped in by tractor, and I thought you should see them.”

“Most certainly. Your names, please?”

There followed a tedious quarter of an hour while particulars were carefully noted down and the Observatory was called. That meant, Wheeler thought glumly, that the fat would now be in the fire. Their friends in Signals, who had been logging their progress in case of any accident, would now have to report their absence officially.

At last their identities were established, and the man at the imposing desk regarded them with some perplexity. Presently his brows cleared and he began to address them.

“You realize, of course, that you are something of a nuisance. This is the last place we ever expected visitors, otherwise we’d have put up notices telling them to keep off. Needless to say, we have means of detecting any who may turn up, even if they’re not sensible enough to drive up openly, as you did.

“However, here you are and I suppose there’s no harm done. You have probably guessed that this is a government project, and one we don’t want talked about. I’ll have to send you back, but I want you to do two things.”

“What are they?” asked Jamieson suspiciously.

“I want you to promise not to talk about this visit more than you have to. Your friends will know where you’ve gone, so you can’t keep it a complete secret. Just don’t discuss it with them, that’s all.”

“Very well,” agreed Jamieson. “And the second point?”

“If anyone persists in questioning you, and shows particular interest in this little adventure of yours—report it at once. That’s all. I hope you have a good ride home.”

Back in the tractor, five minutes later, Wheeler was still fuming.

“Of all the high-handed so-and-sos! He never even offered us a smoke.”

“I rather think,” said Jamieson mildly, “that we were lucky to get off so. easily. They meant business.”

“I’d like to know what sort of business. Does that look like a mine to you? And why should anything be going on in a slag-heap like the Mare?”

“I think it must be a mine. When we drove up, I noticed something that looked very much like drilling machinery on the other side of the dome. But it’s hard to account for all the cloak-and-dagger nonsense.”

“Unless they’ve discovered something that they don’t want the Federation to know about.”

“In that case we’re not likely to find out, either, and might as well stop racking our brains. But to get on to more practical matters—where do we go from here?”

“Let’s stick to our original plan. It may be some time before we have a chance of using Ferdy again, and we might as well make the most of it. Besides, it’s always been one of my ambitions to see the Sinus Iridum from ground level, as it were.”

“It’s a good three hundred kilometers east of here.”

“Yes, but you said yourself it was pretty flat, if we keep away from the mountains. We should be able to manage it in five hours. I’m a good-enough driver now to relieve you when you want a rest.”

“Not over fresh ground—that would be far too risky. But we’ll make a compromise. I’ll take you as far as the Laplace Promontory, so that you’ll have a look into the Bay. And then you can drive home, following the track I’ve made. Mind you stick to it, too,”

Wheeler accepted gladly. He had been half afraid that Jamie-son would abandon the trip and sneak back to the Observatory, but decided that he had done his friend an injustice.

For the next three hours they crawled along the flanks of the Teneriffe Mountains, then struck out across the plain to the Straight Range, that lonely, isolated band of mountains like a faint echo of the mighty Alps. Jamieson drove now with a steady concentration; he was going into new territory and could take no chances. From time to time he pointed out famous landmarks and Wheeler checked them against the photographic chart.

They stopped for a meal about ten kilometers east of the Straight Range, and investigated more of the boxes which the Observatory kitchen had given them. One corner of the tractor was fitted out as a tiny galley, but they didn’t intend to do any real cooking except in an emergency. Neither Wheeler nor Jamieson was a sufficiently good cook to enjoy the preparation of meals and this, after all, was a holiday…

“Sid,” began Wheeler abruptly, between mouthfuls of sandwich, “what do you think about the Federation? You’ve met more of their people than I have.”

“Yes, and liked them. Pity you weren’t here before the last crowd left; we had about a dozen of them at the Observatory studying the telescope mounting. They’re thinking of building a fifteen-hundred-centimeter instrument on one of the moons of Saturn, you know.”

“That would be quite a project—I always said we’re too close to the sun here. It would certainly get clear of the Zodiacal Light and the other rubbish around the inner planets. But to get back to the argument—did they strike you as likely to start a quarrel with Earth?”

“It’s difficult to say. They were very open and friendly with us, but then we were all scientists together and that helps a lot. It might have been different if we’d been politicians or civil servants.”

“Dammit, we are civil servants! That fellow Sadler was reminding me of it only the other day.”

“Yes, but at least we’re scientific civil servants, which makes quite a difference. I could tell that they didn’t care a lot for Earth, though they were too polite to say so. There’s no doubt that they’re annoyed about the metals allocations; I often heard them complain about it. Their main point is that they have much greater difficulties than we have, in opening up the outer planets, and that Earth wastes half the stuff she uses.”

“Which side do you think is right?”

“I don’t know; it’s so hard to get at all the facts. But there are a lot of people on Earth who are afraid of the Federation and don’t want to give it any more power. The Federals know that; one day they may grab first and argue afterward.”