Charles Sheffield - The Spheres of Heaven

What was so valuable a scientist doing on this high-risk expedition? Maybe Korin had talked her into it, but Chan doubted that. There were hints in the record not only of a formidable brain, but just as formidable a will. What Elke wanted, Elke got. She was here because she was interested in the Geyser Swirl, and the mystery of the new Link entry point.

Chan was coasting along the corridor that ran as a central axis for the full length of the Hero’s Return . It was the main artery for personnel movement back and forth along the ship, and in the vessel’s military past there must have been people bustling through the thoroughfare all the time. Today he heard nothing and saw no one. About the halfway point he came to the old fire control room that sat at the protected heart of the ship. It too was empty, and he passed it by. This was where the ship’s navigation system would take care of all actions on the way to Link entry, swapping flight data with stations on Ceres and the Jovian moons; only the final choice would require a human decision: enter the Link, or decline to do so? It occurred to Chan that perhaps this was the choice that humans were least qualified to make. He recognized in himself the tendency to say, we’ve come so far, we can’t possibly change our minds now. People following that philosophy died climbing mountains, they signed disastrous contracts, they flew into hurricanes, and they embarked on lifelong commitments to the wrong mates. Perhaps they headed to the stars for the same reason.

The width of the ship narrowed as he moved aft. It was down from a maximum of seventy meters in its central part to maybe forty. He was beyond the old captain’s quarters, beyond Dag Korin’s chosen suite, into the region which had in the old days been reserved for visiting VIPs. Korin himself had placed Chrissie Winger and Tarbush in suites there, and the other team members had asked to be close by. Team members. Let’s hope you could still call them that after his meeting with Deb Bisson.

He slowed down and examined the glowing numbers that identified each corridor. It was well past midnight, and unless Tully O’Toole was suffering bad withdrawal symptoms Deb should be alone. She would probably be asleep, and if he had to he would wake her. He had to get this over with as soon as possible, or he himself would never sleep.

This side branch. This door. Not locked — it was even slightly open.

He hesitated. On Europa he had entered Deb’s apartment without permission and she had almost broken his neck. If she had known who he was, she probably would have.

He was encouraged by a flicker of light from within. She was awake, and she was watching some sort of display. He gave a token knock, slid the door wide, and entered.

Deb was awake all right, dressed in a black skintight suit and black slippers and sitting quietly on her bed. Unfortunately she was not alone. It was not just Tully, suffering from night shivers. Chan did a quick head count. Danny — Tully — the Tarbush — and, on the other side of the bed, Chrissie. They were all absorbed in a display on the far wall, and no one had seen him enter. Chan glanced at the imaging volume, and stood staring.

It was the Geyser Swirl, in three dimensions and in more detail than he had ever seen it. Gas clouds, twisting like a rosy triple braid inside and outside a necklace of stars, orange and green and blue, showed how the Swirl had gotten its name. The image was striking enough, but it was the prerecorded voice accompanying the picture that really grabbed the attention.

“In the words of one of humankind, the Geyser Swirl is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma .” It was the flat, computer-generated tones of an Angel. “We are certain, beyond doubt, that a Link network point exists within the Geyser Swirl. We are equally confident that no member of the Stellar Group placed it there. At that point, knowledge becomes speculation. A test probe reported that it was entering the Link, but there was no standard return signal to report a successful transit, nor did the probe itself return.

“Meanwhile, contrary to the evidence of the probe, a recent remote survey indicates no evidence of a Link point’s existence within the Swirl. The survey did define the stellar types present in the Swirl, as follows: F-type stars predominate, and there are seven of them. There is one blue giant star, one A-type, one K-type cool giant, and one G-type dwarf of mass similar to Sol. Detailed spectra are available. Five of the stellar systems possess planetary retinues. However, of the twenty-three planets in these systems, none is able to support life of any form resembling a member of the Stellar Group. Nine are massive gas giants, five possess hydrogenous or methane atmospheres, while the remaining five lack volatiles and an atmosphere of any kind. Note that this distribution violates the widely accepted principle of homeostatic convergence, whereby worlds able to support life tend to a common limit of atmospheric pressure and composition, temperature, and humidity. In the Geyser Swirl, all surface temperatures lie in the lethal range… .”

Since entering, Chan had not moved or made a sound; but Deb Bisson possessed the heightened senses of a weapons master. Without warning she rolled off the bed and came to her feet poised ready to spring. Chan held his hands wide, to show that he was unarmed.

“Only me. I didn’t say anything, because you were all watching.” He nodded at the display. “Doesn’t look good for the teams that went there already, does it? No habitable planets. At least we’re forewarned.”

He tried to sound relaxed and casual. It didn’t work. The others glanced at him, then at once turned their eyes to the woman standing by the bed. Chrissie held out a restraining hand. Danny Casement said, “Easy, Deb, easy.” And then to Chan, “I’m sorry, but I told her. A few minutes ago. I had to, because we were on the way.”

Chan nodded, but he did not take his eyes away from Deb. “I understand. Don’t blame Danny for this, Deb. I asked him not to say anything until we left parking orbit.”

“I don’t blame Danny for anything.” She was still in the fighting posture that made the hair stand up on the back of Chan’s neck. “You think you’re smart, Chan Dalton, tricking me into being part of the team. But you don’t know a thing. I was going anyway, with or without the other team members.”

“I’m glad. This team wouldn’t be the same without you. And I’m very glad that when I came in you weren’t carrying weapons.”

“Oh, cut the crap. You just want to use me, the way you used me before. The way you use everybody. As for having no weapons, try this.”

She hardly moved, just the flick of her left index finger. Chan saw nothing, and for about five seconds he felt nothing. Then there was a curious sensation of something crawling up his chest.

He looked down and saw that a round white patch about five centimeters across had appeared in the middle of his long-sleeved shirt. While he watched, it spread rapidly. He realized that the white patch was part of his undershirt, and the outer garment was simply vanishing. The torso went, then the neck and finally the sleeves, creeping down his arms to his wrists until he was standing in a sleeveless white top. An odd smell of acetone filled his nostrils.

“I used a fabric version.” Deb’s face was stony. “I’ll give you thirty seconds to get out of my room. If you’re not gone by then, we’ll see how the skin version works.”

“Deb.” But he saw her eyes. “All right, I’m on my way. I’ll say it again, I’m glad you’re with us.”

He left, carefully closing the door after him. There was a long silence, broken surprisingly by Tully O’Toole. He had been staring, mouth open, first at Deb and then at Chan.