Charles Sheffield - The Spheres of Heaven

Chan couldn’t stand any more. He lurched to his feet, almost overbalancing in the negligible gravity of Ceres. “Excuse me.”

General Korin halted in mid-stride and mid-sentence. He stared at Chan with impatient eyes. “Do you have a question?”

“Yes. What makes you think that anything the aliens have told us about this is true?”

Korin stared. It must be a novelty, finding someone more paranoid than he was. “Are you suggesting—”

“Yes, I am. I think that every single thing we’ve been told by the aliens about events in the Geyser Swirl is a lie. When we go there, we must be prepared to deal with any form of chicanery and deception. I have not met the crew you are proposing for the Return , but do they include specialists in trickery and bluffing, or in the fine art of the double cross?”

Chan could read the look on the General’s face. Surprise and suspicion, giving way to conviction and accusation as Korin turned to Dougal MacDougal.

“Dalton is quite right. We must be prepared for every form of misinformation from the aliens. As for our crew, Dalton, you are looking at it. I believe that this expedition will be best served by a minimal and flexible force. You. Me. And Dr. Siry. The ship runs itself. Are you suggesting that we need more military?”

“Of course not. So far as I know, solar military doesn’t have specialists in deception and bluffing. I don’t know where you would find people like that. But I know where I will.” At least, I know where I’ll be looking for them . “Give me one week — no, make that ten days — and permit me unlimited travel around the solar system. I will find the men and women we need.”

“Civilian government workers?” Dag Korin’s tone implied that he would rather work with a complement of toads.

“Not quite that.”

“But they have experience operating in a highly structured and defined environment?”

“Oh, sure.” Presumably time in prison counted. “Look, don’t worry about these people. You carry on planning, but expect up to six more people on board the Return . I must go now.”

Before I pass out . Chan didn’t wait to hear the Ambassador and the General squabbling over personnel. He had ten days. Ten days to locate the members of the old team and contact them, wherever they were; ten days to persuade them — if he could — that there was still something in it for them after all these years, if only they would travel with Chan to the Geyser Swirl.

No need to discuss Dag Korin with them. They would have plenty of time to learn the General’s little ways on the way to the Geyser Swirl.

“I don’t believe you. You’ve made a mistake.” Friday Indigo nodded toward the cup in Bony’s hand. “That’s water. What else could it be?”

“I don’t know.” Bony sniffed at the cup. “I agree, it smells like water and it looks like water. But it’s fifteen percent denser than the drinking water we have on board.”

“You’re missing the obvious, Rombelle. As usual. Don’t you see what this is? It’s brine — salt water. If you had ever been on Earth, as I have, you would know.”

“I have been on Earth.” Bony cursed to himself. In his irritation with Friday Indigo he was doing what he never did: giving details of his own background.

“Then even you should have heard of the Dead Sea.” Friday Indigo took the cup from Bony’s hand. “The Dead Sea has so much salt in it, a person can’t sink. If you step into it, you just bob around on the surface with your shoulders out of the water.”

“I know that, sir.” Bony made a decision. He might be self-taught, but he had a near-perfect memory and he had taught himself a lot . If they were all going to die in the Geyser Swirl, he wouldn’t be talked down to any more by a nitwit like Indigo. “The Dead Sea is close to a quarter salts by weight. Mainly sodium chloride, magnesium chloride, and calcium chloride. Its density is twenty percent higher than ordinary water, even more than what we have here.”

“So this is obviously somewhere between ordinary seawater on Earth, and the Dead Sea.”

“No. The taste of water so full of salts is reported to be absolutely disgusting by anyone who has ever sampled it. This is a bit salty, but quite drinkable. Try it for yourself.”

Friday Indigo did not seem keen on the idea, but he cautiously raised the cup and took a minute sip. “It tastes like water. Ordinary water, salt and carbonated.”

“That’s right. Although I’m not sure the dissolved gas is carbon dioxide.”

“And still you say it isn’t water? What that tells me, Rombelle, is that you don’t know what you’re talking about. And while you stand here and debate the mysterious properties of perfectly ordinary water, let me remind you that we remain stuck at the bottom of the sea. I don’t want a discussion. I want to take the Mood Indigo back into space. So get to work.” Indigo put his hand on Liddy Morse’s arm as she seemed ready to follow Bony toward the lower level of the ship. “Not you, Liddy. It’s been a tense few hours, and I think I’ve earned a little rest and recreation. Let’s go.”

Liddy, to Bony’s annoyance, bowed her head submissively. He descended the ladder alone, heading for the tiny room that served as his combined study and workshop. On the way he stopped at the galley and grabbed a double handful of candy bars. He wasn’t sure that he would be able to work while Friday Indigo cavorted with Liddy above his head, but these might help.

In the study he stuffed a whole candy bar into his mouth and pulled up data on the airlocks of the Mood Indigo . There were three of them, one at the front end of the ship and two at the rear. All of them presented problems. The forward one faced vertically upward, while the other two might have been damaged on impact with the seabed. He would have to make an inspection, but before that he wanted to know if they could be used as sea-locks, even in principle.

He called up detailed schematics. It must be nice to be rich. Friday Indigo had bought a ship equipped with the best of everything, hardware and software. On the other hand, most of the test equipment had never been taken from its protective covers, and he could see from their access history that he was the first person to use these data routines.

Bony studied the airlock geometry and mechanics and gradually lost himself in his task. The first part would be easy. You put on an ordinary space-suit and moved into an airlock. You closed the inner hatch, exactly as usual. Then you opened the outer hatch. Instead of air gushing out into vacuum, water came in. Depending on the airlock position and your own density, you either floated into the sea or you walked out onto the seabed.

And then did what? Bony examined the characteristics of the suits. The air supply and air circulation were self-contained and would operate exactly as in space. The main question was thermal balance. The suit had to lose the heat generated internally by its occupant. That ought to be easier in water than in space, because you could lose heat by conduction and convection as well as by radiation.

Easier in water . In spite of anything that Friday Indigo might say, it was not ordinary water. So what was it? Bony became aware of an idea that had been wandering around the fringes of his consciousness. He called for access to a completely different data base, and for on-line assistance. The next ten minutes flashed by as he and the ship’s computer looked up basic physical constants and did calculations.

At the end of that time Bony smacked his hand on the desktop. Yes! He still had to perform a couple of tests, but the ship carried a small mass spectrograph for use in calibrating the fusion drive, and that should be all he needed.