pilot left, giving London a grin of gratitude. On his way out, he lifted his white helmet with such energy that the tubes slapped the sides of his suit.
As soon as the door was closed, London began clattering pots and pans by the hot plate.
"What good will this do?" Goss threw the question angrily at his back. "You're a big help!"
"And you're spineless. Why did you give Pirx the machine?"
"I had to. I gave my word."
London turned to him, a pot in his hand.
"Your word! You're the kind of friend that if you give your word that you'll jump in after me, you keep it. And if you swear that you'll stand there and watch me drown, you jump in anyway. Am I right?"
"Who knows what's right?" Goss said, defending himself halfheartedly. "How will he be able to help them?"
"Maybe he'll find tracks. He'll be taking a radiator—"
"Stop! Let me listen to Grail. There might be some news."
Dusk was still far off, although the clouds settling around the illuminated mushroom tower made everything dark. London set the table while Goss, smoking cigarette after cigarette, his earphones on, picked up the small talk between the base at Grail and the tractors that had been sent out after the copters returned. At the same time, he thought about the pilot. Hadn't the pilot changed course too readily, without questions, to land here? A twenty-nine-year-old captain of a ship, licensed to operate long-range spacecraft, had to be tough, hot-blooded. Otherwise he would not have risen so quickly. Danger was a lure to plucky youth. If he, Goss, was to blame, it was for an oversight. Had he asked about Killian, he would have sent the ship on to Grail. Chief Goss, after twenty hours without sleep, was unaware that in his thoughts he had already laid the newcomer to rest. And what was the kid's name? He'd forgotten it, and took this as a sign of advancing age.
He touched the left monitor. In green rows the letters went:
SHIP: HELIOS GENERAL CARGO II CLASS
HOME PORT: SYRTIS
MAJOR PILOT: ANGUS PARVIS
COPILOT: ROMAN SINKO
FREIGHT: ITEM LIST
???
He turned off the screen. They came in wearing sweatsuits. Sinko—thin, curly-haired—greeted them with embarrassment, because the pile turned out to have a leak after all. They sat down to canned soup. The thought occurred to Goss that this daredevil who would be taking the machine out had a jumbled name. He should have been not Parvis but PARSIFAL , which went with Grail. Not in the mood for jokes, however, Goss kept the anagram to himself.
After a short discussion on the subject of whether they were eating lunch or supper—unresolvable because of the difference in times: the ship's time, Earth time, Titan time—Sinko went down to talk with the technician about the defect scope, which was being set up for the end of the week, when the pile would be cool and the cracks in the housing could be temporarily sealed. The pilot, London, and Goss meanwhile viewed a diorama of Titan in an empty part of the hall. The image—created by holographic projectors, three-dimensional, in color, with the routes drawn in—went from the northern pole to the tropic parallel of latitude. It could be reduced or enlarged. Parvis studied the region that separated them from Grail.
The room that he was given was small but cozy, with a bunk bed, a little desk that slanted, an armchair, a cabinet, and a shower so narrow that when he soaped himself he kept banging his elbows into the walls. He stretched out on the blanket and opened the thick handbook of Titanography he had borrowed from London. First he looked in the index for BIRNAM WOOD , then WOOD , BIRNAM . It was not there; science had not taken cognizance of the name. He leafed through until he came to the geysers. The author's account of them was not exactly what Goss had said. Titan, solidifying more rapidly than Earth and the other inner planets, locked in its depths enormous masses of compressed gases. These gases, at the folds in Titan's crust, pressed against the bases of
As soon as the door was closed, London began clattering pots and pans by the hot plate.
"What good will this do?" Goss threw the question angrily at his back. "You're a big help!"
"And you're spineless. Why did you give Pirx the machine?"
"I had to. I gave my word."
London turned to him, a pot in his hand.
"Your word! You're the kind of friend that if you give your word that you'll jump in after me, you keep it. And if you swear that you'll stand there and watch me drown, you jump in anyway. Am I right?"
"Who knows what's right?" Goss said, defending himself halfheartedly. "How will he be able to help them?"
"Maybe he'll find tracks. He'll be taking a radiator—"
"Stop! Let me listen to Grail. There might be some news."
Dusk was still far off, although the clouds settling around the illuminated mushroom tower made everything dark. London set the table while Goss, smoking cigarette after cigarette, his earphones on, picked up the small talk between the base at Grail and the tractors that had been sent out after the copters returned. At the same time, he thought about the pilot. Hadn't the pilot changed course too readily, without questions, to land here? A twenty-nine-year-old captain of a ship, licensed to operate long-range spacecraft, had to be tough, hot-blooded. Otherwise he would not have risen so quickly. Danger was a lure to plucky youth. If he, Goss, was to blame, it was for an oversight. Had he asked about Killian, he would have sent the ship on to Grail. Chief Goss, after twenty hours without sleep, was unaware that in his thoughts he had already laid the newcomer to rest. And what was the kid's name? He'd forgotten it, and took this as a sign of advancing age.
He touched the left monitor. In green rows the letters went:
SHIP: HELIOS GENERAL CARGO II CLASS
HOME PORT: SYRTIS
MAJOR PILOT: ANGUS PARVIS
COPILOT: ROMAN SINKO
FREIGHT: ITEM LIST
???
He turned off the screen. They came in wearing sweatsuits. Sinko—thin, curly-haired—greeted them with embarrassment, because the pile turned out to have a leak after all. They sat down to canned soup. The thought occurred to Goss that this daredevil who would be taking the machine out had a jumbled name. He should have been not Parvis but PARSIFAL , which went with Grail. Not in the mood for jokes, however, Goss kept the anagram to himself.
After a short discussion on the subject of whether they were eating lunch or supper—unresolvable because of the difference in times: the ship's time, Earth time, Titan time—Sinko went down to talk with the technician about the defect scope, which was being set up for the end of the week, when the pile would be cool and the cracks in the housing could be temporarily sealed. The pilot, London, and Goss meanwhile viewed a diorama of Titan in an empty part of the hall. The image—created by holographic projectors, three-dimensional, in color, with the routes drawn in—went from the northern pole to the tropic parallel of latitude. It could be reduced or enlarged. Parvis studied the region that separated them from Grail.
The room that he was given was small but cozy, with a bunk bed, a little desk that slanted, an armchair, a cabinet, and a shower so narrow that when he soaped himself he kept banging his elbows into the walls. He stretched out on the blanket and opened the thick handbook of Titanography he had borrowed from London. First he looked in the index for BIRNAM WOOD , then WOOD , BIRNAM . It was not there; science had not taken cognizance of the name. He leafed through until he came to the geysers. The author's account of them was not exactly what Goss had said. Titan, solidifying more rapidly than Earth and the other inner planets, locked in its depths enormous masses of compressed gases. These gases, at the folds in Titan's crust, pressed against the bases of
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