Isaac Asimov - The Martian Way and Other Stories

“And we can be dead by then,” said Sheffield hotly.

“Let’s get on with it,” said the Captain, banging his desk with an aluminum T-wedge.

Cimon sat in the front row of the audience, smiling thinly. It was he whom Sheffield watched most uneasily.

The smile never varied as witnesses were called upon to state that they had been informed that the crew were on no account to be told of the true nature of the trip; that Sheffield and Mark had been present when told. A mycologist testified to a conversation he had had with Sheffield which indicated the latter to be well aware of the prohibition.

It was brought out that Mark had been sick for most of the trip out to Junior, that he had behaved erratically after they had landed on Junior.

“How do you explain all that?” asked the Captain.

From the audience, Cimon’s calm voice suddenly sounded.

“He was frightened. He was willing do anything that would get him off the planet.”

Sheffield sprang to his feet, “His remarks are out of order. He’s not a witness.”

The Captain banged his T-wedge and said, “Sit down!”

The trial went on. A crew member was called in to testify that Mark had informed them of the first expedition and that Sheffield had stood by while that was done.

Sheffield cried, “I want to cross-examine!”

The Captain said, “You’ll get your chance later.”

The crewman was shooed out

Sheffield studied the audience. It seemed obvious that their sympathy was not entirely with the Captain. He was psychologist enough to be able to wonder, even at this point, how many of them were secretly relieved at having left Junior and actually grateful to Mark for having precipitated the matter as he did. Then, too, the obvious kangaroo nature of the court didn’t sit well with them. Vernadsky was frowning darkly while Novee stared at Cimon with obvious distaste.

It was Cimon who worried Sheffield. He, the psychologist felt, must have argued the Captain into this and it was he who might insist on the extreme penalty. Sheffield was bitterly regretful of having punctured the man’s pathological vanity.

But what really puzzled Sheffield above all was Mark’s attitude. He was showing no signs of space-sickness or of unease of any kind. He listened to everything closely but seemed moved by nothing. He acted as though nothing mundane concerned him at the moment; as though certain information he himself held made everything else of no account.

The Captain banged his T-wedge “and said, “I guess we have it all. Facts all clear. No argument. We can finish this.”

Sheffield jumped up again. “Hold on. Aren’t we getting our turn?”

“Quiet,” ordered the Captain.

”You keep quiet.” Sheffield turned to the audience. “Listen, we haven’t had a chance to defend ourselves. We haven’t even had the right to cross-examine. Is that just?”

There was a murmur that buzzed up above the sound of the T-wedge.

Cimon said coldly, “What’s there to defend?”

“Maybe nothing,” shouted back Sheffield, “in which case what have you to lose by hearing us? Or are you afraid we have considerable to defend?”

Individual calls from the audience were sounding now. “Let him talk!”

Cimon shrugged. “Go ahead.”

The Captain said sullenly, “What do you want to do?”

Sheffield said, “Act as my own lawyer and call Mark Annuncio as witness.”

Mark stood up calmly enough. Sheffield turned his chair to face the audience and motioned him down again.

Sheffield decided there was no use in trying to imitate the courtroom dramas he had watched on the subether. Pompous questions on name and condition of past life would get nowhere. Better to be direct.

So he said, “Mark, did you know what would happen when you told the crew about the first expedition?”

“Yes, Dr. Sheffield.”

“Why did you do it then?”

“Because it was important that we all get away from Junior without losing a minute. Telling the crew the truth was the fastest way of getting us off the planet.”

Sheffield could feel the bad impression that answer made on the audience, but he could only follow his instinct. That, and his psychologist’s decision that only special knowledge could make Mark or any Mnemonic so calm in the face of adversity. After all, special knowledge was their business.

He said, “Why was it important to leave Junior, Mark?” Mark didn’t flinch. He looked straight at the watching scientists. ”Because I know what killed the first expedition, and it was only a question of time before it killed us. In fact, it may be too late already. We may be dying now. We may, every one of us, be dead men.”

Sheffield let the murmur from the audience well up and subside. Even the Captain seemed shocked into T-wedge immobility while Cimon’s smile grew quite faint.

For the moment, Sheffield was less concerned with Mark’s “knowledge,” whatever it was, than that he had acted independently on the basis of it. It had happened before. Mark had searched the ship’s log on the basis of a theory of his own. Sheffield felt pure chagrin at not having probed that tendency to the uttermost then and there.

So his next question, asked in a grim enough voice, was, “Why didn’t you consult me about this, Mark?”

Mark faltered a trifle. “You wouldn’t have believed me. It’s why I had to hit you to keep you from stopping me. None of them would have believed me. They all hated me.”

“What makes you think they hated you?”

“Well, you remember about Dr. Rodriguez.”

“That was quite a while ago. The others had no arguments with you.”

“I could tell the way Dr. Cimon looked at me. And Dr. Fawkes wanted to shoot me with a blaster.”

“What?” Sheffield whirled, forgetting in his own turn any formality due the trial “Say, Fawkes, did you try to shoot him?”

Fawkes stood up, face crimson, as all turned to look at him. He said, “I was out in the woods and he came sneaking up on me. I thought it was an animal and took precautions. When I saw it was he, I put the blaster away.”

Sheffield turned back to Mark. “Is that right?”

Mark turned sullen again. “Well-I asked Dr. Vernadsky to see some data he had collected and he told me not to publish it before he did. He tried to make out that I was dishonest.”

“For the love of Earth, I was only joking,” came a yell from the audience.

Sheffield said hurriedly, “Very well, Mark, you didn’t trust us and you felt you had to take action on your own. Now, Mark, let’s get to the point. What did you think killed the first settlers?”

Mark said, “It might have killed the explorer, Makoyama, too, for all I know except that he died in a crash two months and three days after reporting on Junior, so we’ll never know.”

“All right, but what is it you’re talking about?”

A hush fell over everyone.

Mark looked about and said, “The dust.”

There was general laughter, and Mark’s cheeks flamed.

Sheffield said, “What do you mean?”

“The dust! The dust in the air. It had beryllium in it. Ask Dr. Vernadsky.”

Vernadsky stood up and pushed his way forward. “What’s this?”

“Sure,” said Mark. “It was in the data you showed me. Beryllium was very high in the crust, so it must be in the dust in the air as well.”

Sheffield said, “What if beryllium is there? Let me ask the questions, Vernadsky. Please.”

“Beryllium poisoning, that’s what. If you breathe beryllium dust, non-healing granulomata, whatever they are, form in the lungs. Anyway, it gets hard to breathe and eventually you die.”

A new voice, quite agitated, joined the melee. “What are you talking about? You’re no physician.” It was Novee.