David Brin: Sundiver

“I’m sorry we dragged you away from your important work, Mr. Demwa. I know you’re already heavily engaged… I only hope that we can persuade you that, that our own little… problem is worth your time and worthy of your talents.” Dr. Kepler’s hands were knotted together on his lap.

Dr. Martine looked on Kepler’s earnestness with an expression of mildly amused patience. There were nuances here that bothered Jacob.

“Well, Dr. Kepler, Fagin must have told you that since my wife’s death, I’ve retired from the “mystery business,” and I am pretty busy right now, probably too much so to get involved in a long journey off planet…”

Kepler’s face fell. His expression became so bleak so suddenly that Jacob was moved.

“…However, since Kant Fagin is a perceptive individual, I’ll be happy to listen to anyone he refers to me, and decide on the merits of the case.”

“Oh, you’ll find this case interesting! I’ve been saying all along that we need fresh insight. And, of course, now that the Trustees have agreed to let us bring in some consultants…”

“Now, Dwayne,” Dr. Martine said. “You’re not being fair. I came in as a consultant six months ago, and Culla brought the services of the Library even earlier. Now Bubbacub has kindly agreed to increase the Library support for the project and come personally with us to Mercury. I think the Trustees are being more than generous.”

Jacob sighed.

“I wish someone would explain what this is all about. Like you, Dr. Martine, perhaps you can tell me what your job is… on Mercury?” He found it difficult to say the word “Sundiver.”

“I am a consultant, Mr. Demwa. I was hired to perform psychological and parapsychological tests on the crew and environment on Mercury.”

“I assume they had to do with the problem Dr. Kepler mentioned?”

“Yes. It was thought at first that the phenomena were a hoax or some sort of mass-hallucination. I’ve eliminated both of those possibilities. It’s clear now that they’re real and actually take place in the solar chromosphere.

“For the last months I’ve been designing psi experiments to take down on solar dives. I’ve also been helping as a therapist for a number of Sundiver staff members; the pressures of conducting this kind of solar research have been telling on many of the men.”

Martine sounded competent, but there was something about her attitude that put Jacob off. Flippancy, perhaps. Jacob wondered what else there was to her relationship with Kepler. Was she his personal therapist as well?

For that matter, am I here just to satisfy the whim of a sick, great man who must be kept going? The idea wasn’t very attractive. Nor was the prospect of getting involved in politics.

Bubbacub, head of the entire Branch Library on Earth — why is he involved in an obscure Terran project? In some ways, the little Pil was the most important E.T. on the Planet outside of the Tymbrimi Ambassador. His Library Institute, the biggest and most influential of the galactic organizations, made Fagin’s Institute of Progress look like a drum and tambourine outfit. Did Martine say he’s going to Mercury?

Bubbacub stared at the ceiling, apparently ignoring the conversation. His mouth worked as though singing in some range inaudible to humans.

Culla’s bright eyes were on the little Library Chief. Perhaps he could hear the singing, or perhaps he too was bored by the conversation so far.

Kepler, Martine, Bubbacub, Culla… I never thought I’d be in a room in which Fagin was the least strange I The Kanten rustled nearby. Fagin was obviously excited. Jacob wondered what could have happened in the Sundiver project to get him so fired up.

“Dr. Kepler, it just might be possible that I could spare the time to help you out… maybe.” Jacob shrugged. “But first, it would be nice to find out what this is all about!”

Kepler brightened.

“Oh, didn’t I ever actually say it? Oh my. I guess I just avoid thinking about it these days… just skirt around the subject, so to speak.”

He straightened and took a deep breath.

“Mr. Demwa, it appears that the Sun is haunted.”

The Bradbury was a new ship. It used a technology far ahead of its predecessors on the commercial line, taking off from sea level under its own power instead of riding to the station at the top of one of the equatorial “Needles,” slung beneath a giant balloon. Bradbury was a huge sphere, titanically massive by earlier standards.

This was Jacob’s first trip aboard a ship powered by the billion-year-old science of the Galactics. He watched from the first-class lounge as the Earth fell away, and Baja California became first a brown rib, separating two seas, then a mere finger along the coast of Mexico. The view was breathtaking, but a bit disappointing. The roar and acceleration of a jetliner, or the slow majesty of a cruise-zep had more romance. And the few times he had left Earth before, rising and returning by balloon, there had been the other ships to watch, bright and busy as they floated up to Power Station or back down the pressurized interior of one of the Needles.

Neither of the great Needles had ever been boring. The thin ceram walls that held the twenty-mile towers at sea-level pressures had been painted with gigantic murals — huge swooping birds and pseudo science-fiction space battles copied from twenty-century magazines. It had never been claustrophobic.

Still, Jacob was glad to be aboard the Bradbury . Someday he might visit the Chocolate Needle, at the summit of Mt. Kenya for nostalgia’s sake. But the other one, the one in Ecuador — Jacob hoped never to see the Vanilla Needle again.

No matter that the great tower was only a stone’s throw from Caracas. No matter that he would be given a hero’s welcome, if ever he came there, as the man who had saved the one engineering marvel on Earth to impress even the Galactics.

Saving the Needle had cost Jacob Demwa his wife and a large portion of his mind. The price had been too high.

Earth had gained a visible disc when Jacob went off to look for the ship’s bar. Suddenly he was in the mood for company. He hadn’t felt that way when he came aboard. He’d had a rough time making excuses to Gloria and the others at the Center. Makakai had raised a fit. Also, many of the research materials on Solar Physics he’d ordered had not arrived and would have to be forwarded to Mercury. Finally, he’d let himself get into a stew wondering how he’d been talked into coming along in the first place.

Now he made his way along the main corridor, at the ship’s equator, until he found the crowded, dimly lit Saloon. Inside he squeezed past lots of talking, drinking passengers to get to the bar.

About forty persons, many of them contract workers bound for skilled labor on Mercury, crowded into the Saloon. More than a few, having drunk too much, spoke loudly to their neighbors or simply stared. For some, departure from Earth came hard.

A few extraterrestrials rested on cushions in the corner set aside for them. One, a Cynthian with shiny fur and thick sunglasses, sat across from Culla, whose great head nodded silently while he sipped daintily with a straw between his huge lips, from what appeared to be a bottle of vodka.