Charles Sheffield - The Spheres of Heaven

“I can only help with one of them. Nothing on the Bun. Tarbush Hanson still does his strongman stunts and his talking-to-animals act, and last I heard, three or four years ago, he was out in the Oort, too.”

Chan nodded. “He was. I’m a bit ahead of you on this. Tarbush and Chrissie Winger teamed up a few years ago and there’s a good chance they’re still touring the Oort Cloud together. Did you ever figure out how Tarbush does it?”

“No. So far as I’m concerned the easiest answer is the one he gives people: Tarbush can talk to animals. We never had the chance to find out if he can talk to aliens, too, the way he claims.”

“Maybe we’ll find out in the Swirl — if we get him that far. As for the Bun, I’m like you. I’ve drawn a total blank. I know he was at the Vulcan Nexus for a while, and that’s not a place you can easily hide a man. But I sent a trace, and it came back name and identification unknown .”

Danny sniffed and a frown grew on the wrinkled and tanned forehead. “Did you try his real name? I know he hates it, but he may be using it.”

“Bonifant Rombelle? Yeah, I tried that. I also tried the Bun, and Bunnyfat Ramble.”

“How about Senor Bonifant and Buddy Rose? I’ve seen him sign that way.”

“I tried those too. Tried everything I could think of. All the old ones, plus a few variations. Nothing. The common view on the Vulcan Nexus was that the Bun went outside with inadequate thermal protection and frizzled. Half an hour at those solar flux levels would bake you down to the bones. All you’d find in the suit would be a mess of blood and liquid fat.”

“Do you mind? I’d like to eat breakfast in a few hours, but I won’t if you talk like that.”

“Sorry. Anyway, I said that’s the common view. I didn’t say it’s what I think.”

“You have another theory?”

“Yes. There’s one other detail you need to know. At the time that the Bun vanished he was close to big trouble. Someone had cracked the Nexus code for solar activity prediction, and been caught doing it. Does that sound like the Bun, or doesn’t it?”

“Does indeed. Only man I ever heard of could make a working laser out of a dog collar, a grandfather clock, and the lower set of your Grandpa’s dentures. He could fix anything . Be worrying, working without the Bun.” Danny stood up. “I always thought someone like him was an essential part of our team — and there was no one like the Bun.”

Chan stared at him. “You thinking of backing out?”

“Hell, no. You know what they say: There’s nobody indispensable but thee and me; and I’m not too sure of thee . If we have to manage without the Bunny-man, we’ll do it. But you were talking tight time schedules, and it seems to me we have to start lining up our other team members right now.”

Chan nodded. “We do. So where do you think you’re going?”

Danny Casement was moving toward the door. “To say my sorrowful good-byes.”

“To Leonora Coslett?”

“Her, and one or two others of my investors. Make that three or four.”

“And return their money?”

“Please! Let’s be reasonable. Ask yourself, what could they possibly buy with their money as valuable as what I provide? Go ahead, make the travel plans.” Danny sighed. “I can leave tomorrow, but don’t look for me till then. This is going to be one long day. And night.”

Chan nodded without sympathy. “You can sleep all you want — once we’re on the way to the Geyser Swirl.”

Bony was no deep-sea diver; still less was he a bold explorer. As he took that first, possibly fatal step, he paused and looked down.

The base of Airlock Number Two sat about three meters from the bulbous rounded end of the Mood Indigo. That base was where the drive unit was housed, and as the heaviest part of the ship it had hit the seabed first when the vessel drifted down through the water. Bony could see, directly beneath him, a broken array of sharp-pointed gold-and-green shafts, two meters long and scattered like toothpicks by the impact.

He held the side of the hatch and lowered himself slowly through the opening. When he was in water up to his waist, he hesitated. He had stated, very confidently, that the chemical properties of deuterium oxide were the same as those of ordinary water. But was that true? Was heavy water just like regular water for all normal purposes, except for its greater density? Bony thought so, but he was no more a trained chemist than he was a trained engineer. Also, he could not tell how strong those pike-like stems beneath him were. He had to be sure that he didn’t impale himself on one that still stood upright.

“Are you all right?” said Liddy’s voice in his helmet.

“Yes. Just being cautious.” Bony had another thought. “I’ve realized something: radio signals designed for space or air use won’t travel through water. Once I’m immersed we won’t be able to talk to each other. Don’t worry, though, I’ll be all right.”

I hope . Bony lowered himself farther. Mid-chest. Shoulders. Chin-level, nose-level, eye-level. He was fully immersed, staring into limpid depths. Was this what the oceans on Earth or Europa looked like? He had never been totally under water before, so he had nothing with which to compare. The water had a bluer tinge than he had expected. All the old talk about “the deep blue sea,” and it really was. After hanging for a few seconds, he released his hold on the side of the hatch.

He was ready for a sudden drop. Instead, nothing seemed to happen. Another disturbing thought crept into Bony’s head. Heavy water was quite a bit denser — eleven percent denser — than ordinary water. Suppose that he, in his suit, was lighter than the salty heavy water that he displaced? Then instead of falling to the seabed he would rise toward the surface. He did not know if he could use his suit’s thrustors under water. If he went up, he might have no way to return to the ship.

And then he realized that he was in fact drifting downward, so slowly that he had time to tap on the lowest port of the Mood Indigo when he reached it, and still be there to wave reassuringly to Liddy when she hurried over to look out. She mouthed at him, he was not sure what. “Be careful,” that seemed clear enough. But the rest of it? “Don’t something-or-other.”

Whatever it was, he would try not to. Bony turned his attention downward. He was just a meter above the surface, and there was no way that he could avoid landing on the flattened pikes. He was lucky to be so close to the ship, because a couple of meters farther out the thicket of spears still jutted upright.

The final impact was feather-soft. Even so, as his boots touched the spikes they crumbled to a cloud of dust that rose up all around him. They seemed like crystals, infinitely delicate and fragile. Bony realized that he had never been in a moment’s danger.

Danger from the spears, that is. Bony stared along the gentle slope of the seabed, and as he did so the light around him dimmed. Just as quickly, it brightened back to its earlier level. Bony looked up. Far above him he saw a vague tri-lobed outline, moving away. Something huge, in the water or above its surface, had passed over his head.

Bony shivered. The smart thing to do was to return at once to the Mood Indigo . He had made his point. He had proved that they could leave the ship and make necessary modifications to the auxiliary drive, enough to allow them to leave Limbo’s ocean floor. But Bony could see better now, as the dust from shattered pikes settled in the still water. The ship had landed in the lowest part of what seemed to be an underwater valley, right where the standing spears grew thickest. Forty meters away, the world of the seabed faded and merged into a sea of uniform green; but just before that, the array of spears ended. Bony could make out the faint outline of rounder shapes on the slope.