After a long time, Garuth called out aloud, "ZORAC."
"Commander?"
"It's time we were on our way. Activate main drives."
"Switching over from standby. Commencing run-up to full power now."
The disk of Earth dissolved into a wash of colors that ran across the screen and began to fade. After a few minutes the colors had merged into a sheet of drab, uniform, grayish fog. The screen would show nothing more until they reached Ganymede.
"Monchar," Garuth called. "I have things to attend to. Will you take over here for a while?"
"Aye-aye, sir."
"Very good. I will be in my room if I am needed for anything." Garuth excused himself from the company, acknowledged the salutations around him, and left the command center. He walked slowly through the corridors that led to his private quarters, fully preoccupied with the thoughts inside his head and largely oblivious to his surroundings. When he had closed the door behind him, he stared at himself in the wall mirror in his stateroom for a long time, as if looking for visible changes in his appearance that might have been brought about by what he had done. Then he sank into one of the reclining armchairs and stared unseeingly at the ceiling until he lost track of time.
Eventually he activated the wall screen in the stateroom and called up a star chart that showed the part of the sky that included the constellation of Taurus. For a long time he sat staring at the faint point that would grow progressively brighter in the course of the long voyage ahead. There was a hope that they could all be wrong. There was always a chance. If the Ganymeans had migrated there, what kind of civilization would they have developed over the millions of years that had passed by since the Shapieron departed from Minerva? What kind of science would they possess? What wonders would they accept as commonplace that even he could never conceive? As his mind went out toward the faint spot on the star chart, he felt a sudden surge of hope welling up inside him. He began to picture the world that was there waiting to greet them and he grew restless and impatient at the thought of the years that would have to pass by before they could know.
He knew that the optimism of the human scientists knew no bounds. Already the huge disks of the radio-observatory situated on Lunar Farside were beaming a high-power transmission in Ganymean communications code out toward The Giants' Star to forewarn of the Shapieron's coming--a message that would take years to cover the distance, but which would still arrive well ahead of the ship.
Then he slumped back in the chair, despairing and dispirited. He knew, as his few trusted companions knew, that there would be nobody there to receive it. Nothing in the Lunarian records had proved anything. It was all Earthmen's wishful thinking.
His thoughts went back to the incredible Earthmen--the race that had struggled and fought for millennia to overcome such horrendous difficulties, and who now, at last, were emerging from their past to a prospect of lasting prosperity and wisdom . . . if they could only be left alone for a little longer to complete the things they had so valiantly strived to achieve. They had built their world out of chaos, against all the theories and predictions of all the sages and scientists of Minerva. They deserved to be left alone to enjoy their world without interference.
For Garuth knew, as now only Shilohin, Jassilane and Monchar knew, that the Ganymeans had created the human race.
The Ganymeans had been the direct cause of all the defects, handicaps and problems that should by rights have left Man with all the odds piled hopelessly against him. But Man had triumphed over all of them. Justice demanded now that Man be left alone to perfect his world in his own way and without further interference from the Ganymeans.
The Ganymeans had already interfered enough.
Chapter Twenty-Three
In Danchekker's office, high in the main building of the Westwood Biological Institute on the outskirts of Houston, the professor and Hunt were watching the view of the Shapieron being sent down from a telescopic camera tracking from a satellite high above the Earth. The image grew gradually smaller and then suddenly enlarged again as the magnification was stepped up. Then it began to shrink once more.
"It's just coasting," Hunt commented from an armchair set over to one side of the room. "Seems as if they want to get one last look at us." Danchekker said nothing but just nodded absently as he watched from behind his desk. The commentary coming over on audio confirmed Hunt's observation.
"Radar indicates that the ship is still traveling quite slowly compared to the performance that we have seen before. It doesn't seem to be going into orbit . . . just continuing to move steadily away from Earth. This is the last time you'll have a chance to see this fantastic vessel live, so make the most of the moment. We are looking at the closing page of what has surely been the most astounding chapter ever written in the history of the human race. How can things ever be the same again?" A short pause. "Hello, something's happening I'm told. . . The ship's starting to accelerate now. It's really streaking away from us now, building up speed faster all the time. . . ." The image on the screen began to perform a crazy dance of growing and shrinking again at a bewildering rate.
"They're on main drive," Hunt said, as the commentator continued.
"The image is starting to break up. . . . The stressfield's becoming noticeable now. . . . It's going. . . getting fainter . . . That's it. Well I guess that just about--" The voice and picture died together as Danchekker flipped a switch behind his desk to cut off the display.
"So, there they go to meet whatever destiny awaits them," he said. "I wish them well." A short silence ensued while Hunt fished in his pockets for his lighter and cigarette case. As he leaned back in his chair again he said, "You know, Chris, when you think about it, these last couple of years have been pretty remarkable."
"To say the least."
"Charlie, the Lunarians, the ship at Pithead, the Ganymeans and now this." He gestured toward the blank screen. "What better time could we have picked to be alive? It makes every other period of history seem a bit dull, doesn't it?"
"It does indeed . . . very dull indeed." Danchekker seemed to be answering automatically, as if part of his mind were still hurtling out into space with the Shapieron.
"It's a bit of a pity, though, in some ways," Hunt said after a while.
"What is?"
"The Ganymeans. We never really got to the bottom of some of the interesting questions, did we? It's a pity they couldn't have stayed around just a little longer--until we'd managed to figure out a few more of the answers. Actually I'm a bit surprised they didn't. At one stage they seemed even more curious about some things than we were."
Danchekker seemed to turn the proposition over in his mind for a long time. Then he looked up and across to where Hunt was sitting and eyed him in a strange way. When he spoke his voice was curiously challenging.
"Oh really? Answers to questions such as what, might I ask?" Hunt frowned at him for a second, then shrugged as he exhaled a stream of smoke.
"You know what questions. What happened on Minerva after the Shapieron left? Why did they ship all those terrestrial animals there? What bumped off all the Minervan animals? That kind of thing. . . It would be nice to know, even if it is a bit academic now, if only to tidy all the loose ends up."
"Oh, those." Danchekker's air of studied nonchalance was masterly. "I think I can supply you with whatever answers you require to those questions." The matter-of-factness in Danchekker's voice left Hunt at a loss for words. The professor cocked his head to one side and regarded him quizzically but could not contain a slight admission of the amusement that he felt.
"Well. . . Good God, what are they then?" Hunt managed at last. He realized that in his astonishment he had let his cigarette slip from his fingers and made hasty efforts to retrieve it from the side of his chair.
Danchekker watched the pantomime in silence, then replied. "Let me see now, to answer directly the questions that you have just asked would not really convey very much, since they all interrelate. Most of them follo
w from the work I have been doing here ever since we got back from Ganymede, which covers quite a lot of ground. Perhaps it would be simpler if I just start at the beginning and follow it through from there." Hunt waited while Danchekker leaned back and interlaced his fingers in front of his chin and contemplated the far wall to collect his thoughts.
At last Danchekker resumed. "Do you recall the piece of research from Utrecht that you brought to my attention soon after we got back--concerning the way in which animals manufacture small amounts of toxins and contaminants to exercise their defensive systems?"
"The self-immunization process. Yes, I remember. ZORAC picked that one up. Animals possess it but human beings don't. What about it?"
"I found the subject rather intriguing and spent some time after our discussion following it up, which included holding some very long and detailed conversations with a Professor Tatham from Cambridge, an old friend of mine who specializes in that kind of thing. In particular, I wanted to know more about the genetic codes that are responsible for this self-immunization mechanism forming in the developing embryo. It seemed to me that if we were going to try to pinpoint the causes for this radical difference between us and the beasts, this was the level at which we should look for it."
"And. . ."
"And, the results were extremely interesting . . . in fact, remarkable." Danchekker's voice fell almost to a whisper that seemed to accentuate every syllable. "As ZORAC discovered, in virtually all of today's terrestrial animals, the genetic coding that determines their self-immunization mechanism is closely related to the coding responsible for another process; you might say that both processes are subsets of the same program. The other process regulates carbon-dioxide absorption and rejection."
"I see . . ." Hunt nodded slowly. He didn't yet see exactly where Danchekker was leading, but he was beginning to sense something important.
"You're always telling me you don't like coincidences," Danchekker went on. "I don't either. There was far too much of a coincidence about this, so Tatham and I started delving a bit deeper. When we investigated the experiments performed at Pithead and on board Jupiter Five , we came across a second rather remarkable thing, that tied in with what I have just been talking about--concerning the Oligocene animals found in the ship there. The Oligocene animals all contain the same genetic coding elements, but in their case there is a difference. The subprograms that control the two processes I mentioned have somehow been separated out; they exist as discrete groupings that lie side by side on the same DNA chain. Now that is very remarkable, wouldn't you say?"
Hunt considered the question for a few seconds.
"You mean that in today's animals both processes are there, but all scrambled up together, but in the Oligocene species they're separated out."
"Yes."
"All the Oligocene species?" Hunt asked after a moment's further reflection. Danchekker nodded in satisfaction at seeing that Hunt was on the right track.
"Precisely, Vic. All of them."
"That doesn't really make sense. I mean, the first thing you'd think would be that some kind of mutation had occurred to change one form into the other--the scrambled-up form and the separated-out form. That could have happened either way around. In one case the scrambled form could be the'natural' terrestrial pattern that became mutated on Minerva; that would explain why the animals from there have it and the descendants of the ones that were left here don't. Alternatively, you could suppose that twenty-five million years ago the separated-out form was standard, which explains of course why the animals from that time exhibit it, but that in subsequent evolution here on Earth it changed itself into the scrambled form." He looked across at Danchekker and threw his arms out wide. "But there's one basic flaw in both those arguments--it happened in lots of different species, all at the same time."
"Quite." Danchekker nodded. "And, by all the principles of selection and evolution that we accept, that would appear to rule out the possibility of any kind of mutation--natural mutation, anyway. It would be inconceivable for the same chance event to occur spontaneously and simultaneously in many distinct and unrelated lines. . . utterly inconceivable."
"Natural mutation?" Hunt looked puzzled. "What are you saying then?"
"It's perfectly simple. We've just agreed that the difference couldn't be due to ordinary natural mutation, but nevertheless it's there. The only other explanation possible then is that it was not natural."
Impossible thoughts flashed through Hunt's mind. Danchekker read the expression on his face and voiced them for him.
"In other words they didn't just happen; they were made to happen. The genetic codings were deliberately rearranged. We are talking about an artificial mutation."
For a moment Hunt was stunned. The word deliberate denoted conscious volition, which in turn implied an intelligence.
Danchekker nodded again to confirm his thoughts. "If I may rephrase your question of a minute ago, what we are really asking is, did the animals that were shipped to Minerva change, or did the animals that were left on Earth change after the others were shipped? Now add to the equation the further fact that we have established--that somebody deliberately caused the change to happen--and we are left with only one choice."
Hunt completed the argument for him. "There hasn't been anybody around on Earth during the last twenty-five million years that could have done it, so it must have been done on Minerva. That can only mean. . ." His voice trailed off as the full implication became clear.
"The Ganymeans!" Danchekker said. He allowed some time for this to sink in and then continued. "The Ganymeans altered the genetic coding of the terrestrial animals that they took back to their own planet. I am fairly certain that the samples that were recovered from the ship at Pithead were descendants of a strain that had been mutated in this way and had faithfully carried on the mutation in themselves. This is the only logical conclusion that can be drawn from the evidence we have reviewed. Also, it is strongly supported by another interesting piece of evidence."
By now Hunt was ready for anything.
"Oh?" he replied. "What?"
"That strange enzyme that turned up in all of the Oligocene species," Danchekker said. "We know now what it did." The look on Hunt's face asked all the questions for him. Danchekker continued: "That enzyme was constructed for one specific task. It cleaved the DNA chain at precisely the point where those two coding groups were joined--in species where they were separated out, of course. In other words, it isolated the genetic code that defined the C02 -tolerance characteristics."
"Okay," Hunt said slowly, but still not following the argument fully. "I'll take your word for that. . . . But how does that support what you just said about the Ganymeans? I'm not quite--"
"That enzyme was not a result of any natural process! It was something that had been manufactured and introduced artificially. That was where the radioactive decay products came from; the enzyme was manufactured artificially and included radioactive tracer elements to allow its progress through the body to be tracked and measured. We use the same technique widely in medical and physiological research ourselves."
Hunt held up a hand to stop Danchekker going any further for the time being. He sat forward in his chair and closed his eyes for a second as he mentally stepped through the reasoning that the professor had summarized.
"Yes. . . okay. . . You've pointed out all along that chemical processes can't distinguish a radioisotope from a normal one. So, how could the enzyme have selected radioisotopes to build into itself? Answer: It couldn't; somebody must have selected them and therefore the enzyme must have been manufactured artificially. Why use radioisotopes? Answer: Tracers." Hunt again looked across at the professor, who was following and nodding encouragement. "But the enzyme does a specialized job on the modified DNA chain, and you've already established that the DNA was modified artificially in the animals that were shipped to Minerva. . . . Ah, I see . . . I can see how the two tie in together. What you're saying is that the Ganymea
ns altered the DNA coding of the terrestrial animals, and then manufactured a specific enzyme to operate on the altered DNA."
"Exactly."
"And what was the purpose of it all?" Hunt was becoming visibly excited. "Any ideas on that?"
"Yes," Danchekker replied. "I think we have. In fact the things that we have just considered tell us all that we need to know to guess at what they were up to." He sat back and interlaced his fingers again. "With the enzyme performing in the way that I have just described, the object of the exercise becomes clear. At least I think it does. . . . If the animals that possessed the already altered DNA were implanted with the enzymes, the chromosomes in their reproductive cells would have been modified. This would have made it possible for a strain of offspring to be bred from them who possessed the CO2 coding in the form of an isolated, compact unit that could be manipulated and'got at' with comparative ease. If you like, it enabled this particular characteristic to be separated out, perhaps with a view to its becoming the focal point of further experiments with later generations. . . ." Danchekker's voice took on a curious note as he uttered the last few words, as if he were hinting that the main implication of his dissertation was about to emerge.
"I can see what you're saying," Hunt told him. "But not quite why. What were they up to then?"
"That was how they sought to solve their environmental problem after all else had failed," Danchekker said. "It must have been something that was thought of during the later period of Ganymean history on Minerva--sometime after the Shapieron went to Iscaris, otherwise Shilohin and the others would have known about it."
"What was how they sought to solve it? Sorry, Chris, I'm afraid I'm not with you all the way yet."
"Let us recapitulate for a moment on their situation," Danchekker suggested. "They knew that the CO2 level on Minerva had begun to rise, and that one day it would reach a point that they would be unable to withstand; the other Minervan native species would be unaffected, but the Ganymeans would be vulnerable as a consequence of their breeding their original tolerance out of themselves as part of the trade-off for better accident-resistance. They lost it when they took the decision to dispense permanently with their secondary circulation systems. They declined climatic engineering as a solution and tried migration to Earth and the Iscaris experiment but both failed. Later on, it appears, they must have tried something else."
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