by Earl
Swinerton reported his thermoss in all directions, proving his theory that it is a fundamental vegetation, like grass on Earth. Also deer-like animals, hiding in groves of stunted tree-growths. To our wondering question, he shook his head.
“No, I doubt there are intelligent beings. Intelligence rose in warm, kind climates on Earth. Here life struggles fiercely against a rigorous environment. Life has only a toehold in this outpost of the solar system.”
In fact, we hadn’t expected any at all, so far from the life-giving sun.
LING had little to say, in his Oriental way, except that we had better wear snow-goggles in any future prolonged wanderings over the snow, against blinding glare. The faraway sun sheds only one twenty-fifth the light it does on Earth, but the crisp, clean snow throws it back in the eyes harshly. We had been squinting right along.
Halloway was most excited—or impatient.
“No pyramids in sight,” he said disappointedly. “There must be some. There simply must, or my father’s theory is smashed. Captain, let me take the lifeboat and scout a few hundred miles.”
Atwell refused. “The lifeboat is only for emergency.”
“But the mystery of the pyramids—”
“The pyramids be damned!”
But we knew Atwell didn’t really mean it. As much as any of us, or anyone on Earth, he would give his right arm to know that secret. The pyramids had haunted us on every planet we visited, a silent, mocking symbol of a past race and a past saga.
Yes, Atwell would give his right arm, but not a life—or ten lives. As leader, it was his grave responsibility to keep us from danger. The lifeboat, a new item on this expedition, was an ace-in-the-hole that could not be used for any purpose, except to avert catastrophe.
Halloway, on his first interplanetary expedition, and a little new to Atwell’s adamant nature, tried to remonstrate. The rest of us held our breaths. Atwell eyed him fixedly.
“That’s enough, Mr. Halloway,” he said quietly—oh, so quietly. “Your life is in my keeping. I’ll save it against all odds. But I’d take it if it meant other lives spared. Is that clear?”
Inevitably, he shifted his glance to Karsen. Atwell could not resist warning her, at every opportunity. If this sounds heartless, remember that on every other expedition Atwell placed lives above feelings—and brought every expedition back.
We celebrated the Fourth of July today, in the most un-Fourth of July setting imaginable—snow, cold and ice. Captain Atwell allowed us to fire three rifle salutes into the air. They made quite a rousing report, even in this thin air. Ling informed us that the high-powered bullets, with a muzzle velocity of better than three miles a second, would never come back. They had exceeded the escape-velocity of Ganymede’s light gravity. Heaven knows where the bullets will end up, as we fired in the general direction of Sirius.
One-hundredth day.
Sun sinking again. Nearly lost a man. A. tidal storm suddenly struck, without warning. One minute it was clear. The next, a wall of wind-blown snow thundered across the plain and engulfed us. We were in no danger, either in the metal-walled ship or sturdy ice-house.
But Von Zell had just been crossing from one to the other. A distance of only a hundred yards. This may sound unbelievable, but he lost his way! The thick, swirling snow completely obscured his vision. And the accompanying winds, howling like demons, blew him sideward so that he lost all sense of direction.
KARSEN, Halloway and Atwell saw this from the ship. Halloway started right out to rescue Von Zell. Captain Atwell held him back.
“Stay here! He’s in danger, but one life lost is better than two. You couldn’t go a foot without losing your way too.”
White-faced, Halloway and Karsen were forced to watch as the full fury of the storm buffeted the staggering Von Zell away. Not until five hours later did the wind die down and the air clear.
Von Zell was huddled only fifty feet away, almost buried in snow. Intelligently, he had thrown himself down and not attempted to find the ship. He had a thorough chill and is now in bed; but curiously enough, he was not frostbitten. The snow had acted as a blanket and protected him from freezing.
We quickly forgot the near tragedy. Danger is ever quick to strike, on these expeditions, and we had learned how to forget.
As though to compensate, sunset came, and the night firmament spangled out in its full glory—mighty, banded Jupiter, the stars, and eight moons. To top it off, Markers just made an astounding discovery. One of those moons is not a moon of Jupiter. It is a moon of Ganymede!
Markers is working out its complete orbit and data. Tentatively, it revolves around Ganymede in about nine hours, at a distance of five to seven thousand miles. Its diameter is small, perhaps ten miles, much too tiny to be seen from Earth.
“Shades of Galileo!” Swinerton said when Markers made his announcement. “Galileo first discovered that other planets have moons, besides Earth. In turn, you’ve first proved that a moon can have a moon!”
It’s unprecedented in the annals of astronomy. We’re rather proud to make the discovery.
I might add Parletti’s jocular remark.
“Look sharp, Markers,” he grinned. “Maybe you’ll find a moon of that moon—and so on!”
We caught some sleep. We feel a little safer now about the storms like that of yesterday. Ling and Tarnay have figured out the manner and time in which these periodical tidal monsoons occur. Jupiter’s huge fist of gravity steadily bunches warmer air on the hemisphere he lights. When the sun sets, the drop in temperature chills this air, making it denser. It drops, or charges down, causing the violent typhoon. But by the unchanging laws like those governing the tides of Earth, the storms can occur only near sunset. The rest of the time is comparatively safe.
Accordingly, Captain Atwell led another exploration beyond camp, with Swinerton and Parletti. It was at night, but they could see under Jupiter-light almost as well as sunlight. They trekked twenty miles this time, finding low hills up which they clambered. From here they had an extended view of the plains. It was all the same, quite arctic in general.
“No pyramids in view?” Halloway asked. He had been left behind by Atwell as a matter of discipline, we suspect. Atwell shook his head, and Halloway lapsed back into a sort of brooding.
“Don’t take it so hard,” Atwell said more kindly. “The pyramids will show up eventually, when we organize longer trips.”
We’re all taking it hard, though. As much as Halloway, we hoped to find a pyramid.
IRONICALLY, a pyramid had been found—but on Callisto. Parletti had been taking enlarged photographs of Callisto’s surface, the next nearest moon outward from Jupiter. Scanning one print with a magnifying glass for geological data, he noticed a triangular dot. He pointed it out to us excitedly, and we all agreed it could be only a pyramid, after due scaling down. No mountain or natural formation could have this perfect symmetry.
“A pyramid on Callisto?” Halloway said eagerly. Then his face fell. “There, of all places,” he groaned. “Thousands of miles away, out of reach. If I could just examine it, I’d have the answer to the Martian mystery!”
After that, he seemed to brood more. Halloway is the youngest of us, and the most eager, impatient. It is hitting him hardest that the great secret of the pyramids is dangling just out of reach. His father, on Earth, has done a fine piece of research, translating many of the crypt records brought back from Mars, Venus and Mercury. But we understand he depends on his son to bring back from Jupiter the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle.
In connection with that, thanks for the special program in our honor given by the Pyramids Clubs on Earth. We can hardly believe that since we left Earth, hundreds of such clubs have sprung up, all plugging for us to bring back the “Secret of the Pyramids.” We can only say we’ll try our best.
Nothing of event to report.
Except that Markers, in collaboration with Parletti and his camera, has turned his attention to Jupiter itself, They’ve observed and listed the b
ands, which are separately rotating rings of thick gases. For instance, the so-called Southern Belt, creamy brown in color, rotates in something over ten hours. The Red Belt near the equator, crimson in hue, rotates in less than ten hours. The mean is the value astronomers on Earth have used for the rotation of the planet—nine hours, fifty-five minutes.
Parletti and Markers now give the true value—nine hours and fifty-seven minutes. This difference of two minutes means an equatorial speed one thousand miles an hour slower. The same error applied to Earth’s rotation would mean that astronomers on Jupiter would say:
“Earth either rotates one thousand miles an hour, or not at all!”
This illustrates, to some extent, the gigantic scale of all things pertaining to Jupiter. Here are some more items. Jupiter’s atmosphere is six thousand miles thick—almost Earth’s total diameter. It seems to be mainly a hell-brew of methane, free bromine, ammonia, and dust raised by what must be the most violent storms in the universe.
More data next time.
CHAPTER IV
Man Lost!
ONE HUNDRED-SECOND day.
Something has happened. Halloway is missing!
Here are the circumstances. This morning, ten hours ago, Halloway asked for permission to scout a mile or so in a direction where fairly tall trees grow. If he could climb one, he’d have an extended view in a new direction. He promised to take no chances, and be back in three hours. Atwell agreed, since it seemed a harmless request, so close to camp. And it might relieve Halloway’s nervous state. He left just at the new dawn.
Halloway didn’t return on time. Atwell instantly sent a search party. His tracks in the snow ended at the forest, and from there on were untraceable.
No blood was found, no torn clothing, no clue as to his fate. He had just vanished.
All this day, search parties of two each have gone in all directions from the trees, hoping to pick up his trail. There is not a trace of Halloway or his footprints.
We are all depressed. Despite his impetuous nature, we’ve all liked him. Has he foolishly set out, on foot, to find a pyramid, destination unknown? He carried a week’s knapsack of rations.
Well, with nothing to report on that, I’ll give some more data about Jupiter. Due to its rapid rotation, the equatorial bulge is enormous, and the flattening of the poles amounts to eight thousand miles—the diameter of Earth! Also—
Stand by!
Resuming. There has just occurred something that may explain Halloway’s disappearance.
“Young fool,” Atwell said, when Ling and Tarnay returned, reporting no sign of Halloway yet in the direction they had searched. “Did he have the sheer stupidity to go off looking for a pyramid himself?”
Karsen was suddenly facing Captain Atwell, her face strained. She had begged him to let her help search, but he had refused.
“It wasn’t the pyramid, Captain,” she said in a low voice. “It was I! I didn’t want to say anything before, but Halloway had been paying me attentions whenever we were alone. For days! I tried to tell him I was just Karsen—a member of the expedition, nothing more. He kept on. And he—brooded. I think, Captain, that he went away because of me!”
We were all stunned. Then the pieces slipped in place. It had been Halloway, by the way, who stumbled from the ship that day, rubbing his cheek—from Karsen’s stinging slap. And his brooding—well, some of us suspected it might not be wholly the pyramid. In a way, Halloway couldn’t be blamed. His first trip in space, a quite pretty girl—
We all glared at Karsen. Atwell slowly turned his eyes on her balefully. It took courage for Karsen to speak up, we all admit. For if Halloway never showed up again, we would all have thought he went off in search of a pyramid. But that didn’t lessen her blame. Her very presence on our expedition, a woman, was a gamble with human emotions.
“You’ve driven him away,” Atwell snapped. “Driven him mad. I knew you would bring disaster, one way or another, Karsen. I knew it! For the safety of my expedition, I should have taken you that first day and—”
HIS fingers were clenching and unclenching. We almost expected Atwell to leap at her. But he turned away.
“Ling, Tarnay!” he barked. “One hour’s rest. Then off you go again. Gillway, leave that damned radio and get back on the job. Still a chance to find him. Karsen, get into your parka outfit. You’re going on a search now. With me.”
It’s hard to explain what Karsen’s part in this affair means. The loss of a life, perhaps. But more—the shattering of morale. We don’t know at what future moment another of us may be seized with a madness centered about Karsen. We are after all men first, scientists second. We are not all altruism, reason, high-minded pioneering. That is the plain fact, no matter how disillusioning.
That’s all for now. One-hundred-fourth day.
Halloway is back! But Karsen is gone!
Von Zell and Swinerton found Halloway yesterday, stumbling around in the snow, not five miles from camp. They carried him back, and Parletti doctored him up. Frostbite of left hand and both feet, but he won’t lose any fingers or toes. He kept moving enough for sluggish circulation. Young strong body.
It’s a rather strange story. Halloway had nothing else in mind except to climb a tree, as he said. But on the way there, it was east, against the rising sun. He had no dark goggles along. He went snow-blind, and after that just wandered helplessly, lost.
“Snow-blind!” Atwell echoed dazedly. “That was all? You didn’t go off searching for a pyramid? You didn’t run away from Lonna Karsen?”
“Pyramid? Run away from—” Halloway’s face looked puzzled. “What’s Karsen got to do with this? Yes, I admit I was a fool over her, for a while. But she put me in my place. I got over it. That’s girl’s grand. Didn’t leave any hurt; didn’t blab, or get me in trouble. Grand girl. Where is she?”
Yes, where was she? She was not with us!
Atwell turned a little gray.
“She came in with me, an hour ago, both of us dog-tired from the all-night search. She must have slipped right out again—to search some more!”
Ling stooped and held up a pair of snow-glasses.
“She dropped them! She’s out there now—without glasses—”
It was funny, the way we all jerked up. We were all haggard from twenty-four hours of tramping without sleep. Now we all pretended to be fresh as daisies, ready for the new search. We had done Karsen a great wrong.
Well, we’re still searching for her. The men are snatching an hour’s sleep, in shifts, and then going out again. We’re going to find Karsen, or the rest of the expedition will be a process of one taking turns to kick the other. We all looked down on her, and she swallowed it all along—like a man.
CHAPTER V
Parade of the Eclipses
HELLO, Earth!
Jupiter Expedition Number One resuming contact, after two months, Gillway at the keys. One-hundred-sixty-third day since leaving Earth.
The reason for the long delay of two months is that I ran out of charged batteries. My seleno-cells depend on sunlight for recharging, and sunlight from 500 million miles away is too weak to keep them up. Briefly, Tarnay helped me solve the problem by suggesting I use Jupiter-light. It worked. While the sun is away for our three-and-a-half-days long “nights”, I left the cells out under Jupiter-shine. Jupiter is so huge it reflects enough sunlight to make up the difference in my recharging. That is, Jupiter-light plus sunlight keeps the charging rate up.
Now to tell of ourselves.
First of all, Lonna Karsen was found four miles from camp, blind and weak, staggering in circles. Parletti brought her back to health. The snow-blindness left, in both her and Halloway. It was only a temporary affliction, as the sun’s glare is not what it is on Earth, luckily.
We were overjoyed at Karsen’s safe return. She is accepted now as one of us. No man could carry her share better in this expedition. We think Lon Karsen, back on Earth, will be glad to know that through her he is still with us.
> Thus, what seemed a near disaster turned out to be a new spirit of unity and morale among us. We’ll need morale now. Something else has happened. We are threatened in a different way—all ten of us. To explain, I’ll have to go back to previous events. If I mis-code a word here and there, please excuse it. I’m having trouble punching the keys of the etherline code-transmitter. My fingers—
I’d better start from the beginning.
Life on Ganymede is of a very strange sort. Swinerton, as biologist, soon came to that viewpoint. To illustrate, he went hunting in the nearest forest, bagging a furred, hooved, antlered creature about the size of a dog. Call it a dwarf deer. This was in the night-period, under Jupiter-light.
In the next day-period, he shot another, seemingly of a different species. For it was larger, more heavily furred, and had thicker horns. But there was no sign of the former type, in the herds he saw.
A few days later he bagged another of these strange dwarf-deer. This one was only about half as big, with lesser horns and coarser fur. And again the former “species” was mysteriously gone.
What did it mean?
This, of course, was only one type of creature. In the course of weeks Swinerton observed, and at times shot for study, animals of all sorts. They resembled, for purposes of clarity, foxes, rabbits, rats, bears, etc. Yet invariably, he never found two exactly alike! Amazing? I’ll amaze you more as I go on, but enough of that now.
Incidentally, we haven’t solved the “Secret of the Pyramids” yet. In fact, we haven’t even found a single pyramid. We know it’s a disappointment to you, Earth, as well as us. Circumstances, however, have not given us the opportunity.
To get back to everyday matters.
Temperature shot up to twenty below today. It seemed almost warm to us, having been used to an average of forty below. The variation is from seventy below to ten below—a range of sixty degrees. That’s as much, relatively speaking, as the difference between winter and summer on Earth. So don’t imagine Ganymede as a uniformly cold, bitter stretch of Siberia.
