asked him why there had been no methanol found in the dock to which Ginger Xalco had brought Theia days before. Not having to explain the matter had been pure luck; Louis Mastro, bless his rapidly deteriorating heart, had been loudly and emphatically interested in what seemed to have been ammonia crystals in the ice specimen Ginger had also collected. The dear fellow kept hoping aloud that another piece of the “geode” specimen might be brought up to orbit.
One could see why, of course; ammonia crystals growing in an ice cavity could be very informative about details of Titan’s history, as calcite and quartz geodes were about Earth’s…
Good. Even that thought, though not important to the work as far as anyone could tell, could hold Goodall’s attention. For a little while.
And there were the brittle black chips which were all that remained available of Ginger’s originally sticky tar sample. Goodall really should get on to that stuff. Let’s see; it was still in the collection locker removed from Theia …
He hoped passionately this stuff would contain proteins, or at least amino acids. His plan could be justified by any such discovery.
He was decades past conclusion-jumping or even hasty action, however. At least, he hoped that he was.
The plan itself, though still very tentative, was also able to hold his attention, sometimes for a full hour. He did not cut off his connection with Theia’s screen—there was always a chance of something’s happening—but turned to another display. The argument about atmospheric currents and polymerization had ended, and Goodall neither knew nor greatly cared how it had turned out; he was a theorist, greatly outranking Belvew, and would consider that matter when and if it seemed important.
The screen he now faced showed most of the scenery around the wrecked Oceanus , minus a few gaps which her remaining cameras could not cover even though Goodall had unobtrusively re-pointed them.
While he himself did not fly because the pain smothered his needed senses too often, everyone had waldo suits and could control the aircraft.
The factory was there. The ice mountain also showed. The mysterious gel area which had caused Ginger’s misadventure and had now expanded or moved to include the wreck was only partially on the screen. He couldn’t tell whether the tar, or whatever it was, was crawling or growing or even with any certainty whether Oceanus was sinking in it.
And he didn’t want merely to wait around until the jet completely disappeared. That would certainly take much too long, and there was no way to tell how much longer he’d stay competent.
7
----
SLIP
Belvew’s earlier experience with another landing suggested to everyone that the wreck might indeed be sinking, but offered no basis for guessing how far down it might go. The depth of a typical pool, or rather the one which now claimed his interest, was also something Goodall wanted to know; but it was more important to get the research program properly set up while enough of the group were left to handle routine. Also, he could see no way of even being sure that any given pool was typical.
He didn’t want to modify any of the existing plans without very, very good reasons—reasons which would convince, or at least suggest to, everyone else that change was in order. It could be awkward if anyone were to suspect his real plans, especially since Ginger Xalco’s recent escapade. General drat the woman.
The colonel was, in fact, feeling the irritation of a would-be burglar who has discovered, during the casing stage, that his planned victim is under observation for drug activity. That was just the mental part.
He also wanted to remove his gloves, which just now seemed lined with needle points. It was like his only flight test, as though the pain were being deliberately directed; each and every control contact he had tried to make had been swamped with agony. He had not at that time conceived his current plan,
One could see why, of course; ammonia crystals growing in an ice cavity could be very informative about details of Titan’s history, as calcite and quartz geodes were about Earth’s…
Good. Even that thought, though not important to the work as far as anyone could tell, could hold Goodall’s attention. For a little while.
And there were the brittle black chips which were all that remained available of Ginger’s originally sticky tar sample. Goodall really should get on to that stuff. Let’s see; it was still in the collection locker removed from Theia …
He hoped passionately this stuff would contain proteins, or at least amino acids. His plan could be justified by any such discovery.
He was decades past conclusion-jumping or even hasty action, however. At least, he hoped that he was.
The plan itself, though still very tentative, was also able to hold his attention, sometimes for a full hour. He did not cut off his connection with Theia’s screen—there was always a chance of something’s happening—but turned to another display. The argument about atmospheric currents and polymerization had ended, and Goodall neither knew nor greatly cared how it had turned out; he was a theorist, greatly outranking Belvew, and would consider that matter when and if it seemed important.
The screen he now faced showed most of the scenery around the wrecked Oceanus , minus a few gaps which her remaining cameras could not cover even though Goodall had unobtrusively re-pointed them.
While he himself did not fly because the pain smothered his needed senses too often, everyone had waldo suits and could control the aircraft.
The factory was there. The ice mountain also showed. The mysterious gel area which had caused Ginger’s misadventure and had now expanded or moved to include the wreck was only partially on the screen. He couldn’t tell whether the tar, or whatever it was, was crawling or growing or even with any certainty whether Oceanus was sinking in it.
And he didn’t want merely to wait around until the jet completely disappeared. That would certainly take much too long, and there was no way to tell how much longer he’d stay competent.
7
----
SLIP
Belvew’s earlier experience with another landing suggested to everyone that the wreck might indeed be sinking, but offered no basis for guessing how far down it might go. The depth of a typical pool, or rather the one which now claimed his interest, was also something Goodall wanted to know; but it was more important to get the research program properly set up while enough of the group were left to handle routine. Also, he could see no way of even being sure that any given pool was typical.
He didn’t want to modify any of the existing plans without very, very good reasons—reasons which would convince, or at least suggest to, everyone else that change was in order. It could be awkward if anyone were to suspect his real plans, especially since Ginger Xalco’s recent escapade. General drat the woman.
The colonel was, in fact, feeling the irritation of a would-be burglar who has discovered, during the casing stage, that his planned victim is under observation for drug activity. That was just the mental part.
He also wanted to remove his gloves, which just now seemed lined with needle points. It was like his only flight test, as though the pain were being deliberately directed; each and every control contact he had tried to make had been swamped with agony. He had not at that time conceived his current plan,
Similar Books
