Board only a few short months before that moon revealed its idiosyncratic nature.”
Sir Randolph returned to the screen in person. For a mo-ment he was quiet, as if gathering his thoughts. It was a bold actor’s moment, showing his mastery of the medium, focussing the attention of an enormous audience on his next words.
He leaned forward. “Is Inspector Ellen Troy there too, on Ganymede, a part of Forster’s plan?”
He lowered his voice further, as if to force his watchers to lean even closer, his huge hands pulling at the air with spread fingers to draw them further into his intimate net. “Is Amalthea the focus of centuries of Free Spirit scheming? Is the mighty Board of Space Control itself a party to this grand conspiracy? I believe so, and though I cannot prove it tonight”—Mays drew back, straightening his gaunt frame—“I give you my word of honor that I will discover the common thread that links these events which I have brought to your attention. And having done so, I shall expose these ancient secrets to the light of reason.”
Ari said, “Turn off,” her voice loud in the quiet cabin. As the final credits were rolling up the screen, the image faded to black and the videoplate folded itself into the pan-eled wall.
Rain fell steadily on the porch roof; brick-red coals crumbled in the fireplace. The commander broke the silence. “A bit anticlimactic.”
“He got one thing wrong, at least,” Ari said. She didn’t have to say what she meant: Ellen Troy was not on Amal-thea.
Footsteps scraped on the boards of the porch. The com-mander stood up, alert. Ari threw her lap robe aside and went to open the door.
III
The man who came into the room was damp and tweedy; his thinning gray hair stuck out in wet clumps, giving him the look of a baby bird just emerged from the egg. He gath-ered Ari into his arms and hugged her enthusiastically; she laughed and stroked his wet hair. They were not much alike, but they looked well together, he in his tweeds and she in her flannel. They’d been married for decades.
“Something to warm you, Jozsef? We are having tea.”
“Thank you. Kip has told you of our adventures?”
“Not yet,” said the commander.
“We watched Mays pontificate. The final episode of ‘Overmind.’ ”
“Oh no, am I so late?” Jozsef was stricken.
“When has it been otherwise?” Ari said. “Don’t worry, I recorded it.”
“A waste of your time,” said the commander.
Jozsef sat heavily on the couch. Ari handed him a cup and moved the tea tray to the low pine table in front of him. “Except for one thing. Mays has connected Linda with the Free Spirit.”
“With Salamander?”
“He doesn’t know anything about Salamander,” said the commander.
“It’s all speculation,” Ari agreed.
“Nevertheless he’ll be on his way to Amalthea on Helios , to poke around.”
“You can confirm that?” Jozsef asked the commander, who nodded. Jozsef slurped a mouthful of the hot tea and carefully resettled the cup on its saucer. “Well, it can hardly make a significant difference. Half the reporters in the solar system, it seems, are already there, eager for news.”
Ari settled beside him and rested her hand on his knee. “Tell me about your trip.”
“It was quite wonderful.” Jozsef’s eyes lit with enthusi-asm. “If I were a jealous man, I should be jealous that For-ster came unaided to his great discoveries. He fired me with his own enthusiasm—I believe he is a heroic figure.”
“He was hardly unaided.” Ari was defensive on her hus-band’s behalf. “You—and Kip and I—have been of critical help to him.”
“Yes, but he had nothing like the Knowledge to guide him. By himself he deciphered the Venusian tablets, and then the Martian plaque—and from that he deduced the na-ture of Amalthea.”
“Its presumed nature,” said Ari.
“All without hints from any ancient secrets,” Jozsef in-sisted, “which
Sir Randolph returned to the screen in person. For a mo-ment he was quiet, as if gathering his thoughts. It was a bold actor’s moment, showing his mastery of the medium, focussing the attention of an enormous audience on his next words.
He leaned forward. “Is Inspector Ellen Troy there too, on Ganymede, a part of Forster’s plan?”
He lowered his voice further, as if to force his watchers to lean even closer, his huge hands pulling at the air with spread fingers to draw them further into his intimate net. “Is Amalthea the focus of centuries of Free Spirit scheming? Is the mighty Board of Space Control itself a party to this grand conspiracy? I believe so, and though I cannot prove it tonight”—Mays drew back, straightening his gaunt frame—“I give you my word of honor that I will discover the common thread that links these events which I have brought to your attention. And having done so, I shall expose these ancient secrets to the light of reason.”
Ari said, “Turn off,” her voice loud in the quiet cabin. As the final credits were rolling up the screen, the image faded to black and the videoplate folded itself into the pan-eled wall.
Rain fell steadily on the porch roof; brick-red coals crumbled in the fireplace. The commander broke the silence. “A bit anticlimactic.”
“He got one thing wrong, at least,” Ari said. She didn’t have to say what she meant: Ellen Troy was not on Amal-thea.
Footsteps scraped on the boards of the porch. The com-mander stood up, alert. Ari threw her lap robe aside and went to open the door.
III
The man who came into the room was damp and tweedy; his thinning gray hair stuck out in wet clumps, giving him the look of a baby bird just emerged from the egg. He gath-ered Ari into his arms and hugged her enthusiastically; she laughed and stroked his wet hair. They were not much alike, but they looked well together, he in his tweeds and she in her flannel. They’d been married for decades.
“Something to warm you, Jozsef? We are having tea.”
“Thank you. Kip has told you of our adventures?”
“Not yet,” said the commander.
“We watched Mays pontificate. The final episode of ‘Overmind.’ ”
“Oh no, am I so late?” Jozsef was stricken.
“When has it been otherwise?” Ari said. “Don’t worry, I recorded it.”
“A waste of your time,” said the commander.
Jozsef sat heavily on the couch. Ari handed him a cup and moved the tea tray to the low pine table in front of him. “Except for one thing. Mays has connected Linda with the Free Spirit.”
“With Salamander?”
“He doesn’t know anything about Salamander,” said the commander.
“It’s all speculation,” Ari agreed.
“Nevertheless he’ll be on his way to Amalthea on Helios , to poke around.”
“You can confirm that?” Jozsef asked the commander, who nodded. Jozsef slurped a mouthful of the hot tea and carefully resettled the cup on its saucer. “Well, it can hardly make a significant difference. Half the reporters in the solar system, it seems, are already there, eager for news.”
Ari settled beside him and rested her hand on his knee. “Tell me about your trip.”
“It was quite wonderful.” Jozsef’s eyes lit with enthusi-asm. “If I were a jealous man, I should be jealous that For-ster came unaided to his great discoveries. He fired me with his own enthusiasm—I believe he is a heroic figure.”
“He was hardly unaided.” Ari was defensive on her hus-band’s behalf. “You—and Kip and I—have been of critical help to him.”
“Yes, but he had nothing like the Knowledge to guide him. By himself he deciphered the Venusian tablets, and then the Martian plaque—and from that he deduced the na-ture of Amalthea.”
“Its presumed nature,” said Ari.
“All without hints from any ancient secrets,” Jozsef in-sisted, “which
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