Lucky Starr And The Oceanf Of Venus ls-3

by Isaac Asimov

  Fortunately, the vegetation that had so thickly met the eye was neither grass nor shrubbery, but seaweed. The flat plain was no surface of soil and rock, but water, the top of an ocean that surrounded and covered all of Venus.

  The Venus Marvel, even so, hit the ocean with a thunderous rattle, tore through the ropy weeds, and boiled its way into the depths. Lucky and Bigman were hurled against the walls.

  An ordinary vessel might have been smashed, but the Venus Marvel had been designed for entering water at high speed. Its seams were tight; its form, streamlined. Its wings, which Lucky had neither time nor knowledge to retract, were torn loose, and its frame groaned under the shock, but it remained seaworthy.

  Down, down it went into the green-black murk of the Venusian ocean. The cloud-diffused light from above was almost totally stopped by the tight weed cover. The ship's artificial lighting did not go on, its 20 workings apparently put out of order by the shock of contact.

  Lucky's senses were whirling. "Bigman," he called.

  There was no answer, and he stretched out his arms, feeling. His hand touched Bigman's face.

  "Bigman!" he called again. He felt the little Martian's chest, and the heart was beating regularly. Relief washed over Lucky.

  He had no way of telling what was happening to the ship. He knew he could never find any way of controlling it in the complete darkness that enveloped them. He could only hope that the friction of the water would halt the ship before it struck bottom.

  He felt for the pencil flash in his shirt pocket-a little plastic rod some six inches long that, on activation by thumb pressure, became a solid glow of light that streamed out forward, its beam broadening without seeming to weaken appreciably.

  Lucky groped for Bigman again and examined him gently. There was a lump on the Martian's temple, but no broken bones so far as Lucky could tell.

  Bigman's eyes fluttered. He groaned.

  Lucky whispered, "Take it easy, Bigman. We'll be all right." He was far from sure of that as he stepped out into the corridor. The pilots would have to be alive and cooperative if the ship were ever to see home port again.

  They were sitting up, blinking at Lucky's flash as he came through the door.

  "What happened?" groaned Johnson. "One minute I was at the controls, and then…" There was no hostility, only pain and confusion, in his eyes.

  The Venus Marvel was back to partial normality. It was limping badly, but its searchlights, fore and aft, had been restored to operation and the emergency batteries had been rigged up to supply them with all the power they would need for vital operations. The churning of the propeller could be dimly heard, and the planetary coaster was displaying, adequately enough, its third function. It was a vessel that could navigate, not only in space and in air, but under water as well.

  George Reval stepped into the control room. He was downcast and obviously embarrassed. He had a gash on his cheek, which Lucky had washed, disinfected, and neatly sprayed with koagulum.

  Reval said, "There are a few minor seepages, but I plugged them. The wings are gone, and the main batteries are all junked up. We'll need all sorts of repairs, but I guess we're lucky at that. You did a good job,.Mr. Williams."

  Lucky nodded briefly. "Suppose you tell me what happened."

  Reval flushed. "I don't know. I hate to say it, but I don't know."

  "How about you?" asked Lucky, addressing the other.

  Tor Johnson, his large hands nursing the radio back to life, shook his head.

  Reval said, "The last clear thoughts I can remember were while we were still inside the cloud layer. I remember nothing after that till I found myself staring at your flash."

  Lucky said, "Do you or Johnson use drugs of any kind?"

  Johnson looked up angrily. He rumbled, "No. Nothing."

  "Then what made you blank out, and both at the same time, too?"

  Reval said, "I wish I knew. Look, Mr. Williams, neither one of us is an amateur. Our records as coaster pilots are first class." He groaned. "Or at least we were first-class pilots. We'll probably be grounded after this."

  "We'll see," said Lucky.

  "Say, look," said Bigman, testily, "what's the use of talking about what's over and gone? Where are we now? That's what I want to know. Where are we going?"

  Tor Johnson said, "We're 'way off our course. I can tell you that much. It will be five or six hours before we get out to Aphrodite." "Fat Jupiter and little satellites!" said Bigman, staring at the blackness outside the port in disgust. "Five or six hours in this black mess?"

  Aphrodite is the largest city on Venus, with a population of over a quarter of a million.

  With the Venus Marvel still a mile away, the sea about it was lit into green translucence by Aphrodite's lights. In the eerie luminosity the. dark, sleek shapes of the rescue vessels, which had been sent out to meet them after radio contact had been established, could be plainly made out. They slipped along, silent companions.

  As for Lucky and Bigman, it was their first sight of one of Venus's underwater domed cities. They almost forgot the unpleasantness they had just passed through, in their amazement at the wonderful object before them.

  From a distance it seemed an emerald-green, fairyland bubble, shimmering and quivering because of the water between them. Dimly they could make out buildings and the structural webbing of the beams that held up the city dome against the weight of water overhead.

  It grew larger and glowed more brightly as they approached. The green grew lighter as the distance of water between them grew less. Aphrodite became less unreal, less fairylandish, but even more magnificent.

  Finally they slid into a huge air lock, capable of holding a small fleet of freighters or a large battle cruiser, and waited while the water was pumped out. And when that was done, the Venus Marvel was floated out of the lock and into the city on a lift field.

  Lucky and Bigman watched as their luggage was removed, shook hands gravely with Reval and Johnson, and took a skimmer to the Hotel Bellevue-Aphrodite.

  Bigman looked out of the curved window as their skimmer, its gyro-wings revolving with stately dignity, moved lightly among the city's beams and over its rooftops.

  He said, "So this is Venus. Don't know if it's worth going through so much for it, though. I'll never forget that ocean coming up at us!"

  Lucky said, "I'm afraid that was just the beginning."

  Bigman looked uneasily at his big friend. "You really think so?"

  Lucky shrugged. "It depends. Let's see what Evans has to tell us."

  The Green Room of the Hotel Bellevue-Aphrodite was just that. The quality of the lighting and the shimmer of it gave the tables and guests the appearance of being suspended beneath the sea. The ceiling was an inverted bowl, below which there turned slowly a large aquarium globe, supported by cunningly placed lift beams. The water in it was laced with strands of Venusian seaweed and in among it writhed colorful "sea ribbons," one of the most beautiful forms of animal life on the planet.

  Bigman had come in first, intent on dinner. He was annoyed at the absence of a punch menu, disturbed by the presence of actual human waiters, and resentful over the fact that he was told that diners in the Green Room ate a meal supplied by the management and only that. He was mollified, slightly, when the appetizer turned out to be tasty and the soup, very good.

  Then the music started, the domed ceiling gradually came to glowing life, and the aquarium globe began its gentle spinning.

  Bigman's mouth fell open; his dinner was forgotten.

  "Look at that," he said.

  Lucky was looking. The sea ribbons were of different lengths, varying from tiny threads two inches long to broad and sinuous belts that stretched a yard or more from end to end. They were all thin, thin as a sheet of paper. They moved by wriggling their bodies into a series of waves that rippled down their full length.

  And each one fluoresced; each one sparkled with colored light. It was a tremendous display. Down the sides of each sea ribbon were little gl
owing spirals of light: crimson, pink, and orange; a few blues and violets scattered through; and one or two striking whites among the larger specimens. All were overcast with the light-green wash of the external light. As they swam, the lines of color snapped and interlaced. To the dazzled eye they seemed to be leaving rainbow trails that washed and sparkled in the water, fading out only to be renewed in still brighter tints.

  Bigman turned his attention reluctantly to his dessert. The waiter had called it "jelly seeds," and at first the little fellow had regarded the dish suspiciously. The jelly seeds were soft orange ovals, which clung together just a bit but came up readily enough in the spoon. For a moment they felt dry and tasteless to the tongue, but then, suddenly, they melted into a thick, sirupy liquid that was sheer delight.

  "Space!" said the astonished Bigman. "Have you tried the dessert?"

  "What?" asked Lucky absently.

  "Taste the dessert, will you? It's like thick pineapple juice, only a million times better… What's the matter?"

  Lucky said, "We have company."

  "Aw, go on." Bigman made a move to turn in his seat as though to inspect the other diners.

  Lucky said quietly, "Take it easy," and that froze Bigman.

  Bigman heard the soft steps of someone approaching their table. He tried to twist his eyes. His own blaster was in his room, but he had a force knife in his belt pocket. It looked like a watch fob, but it could slice a man in two, if necessary. He fingered it intensely.

  A voice behind Bigman said, "May I join you, folks?"

  Bigman turned in his seat, force knife palmed and ready for a quick, upward thrust. But the man looked anything but sinister. He was fat, but his clothes fit well. His face was round and his graying hair was carefully combed over the top of his head, though his baldness showed anyway. His eyes were little, blue, and full of what seemed like friendliness. Of course, he had a large, grizzled mustache of the true Venusian fashion.

  Lucky said calmly, "Sit down, by all means." His attention seemed entirely centered on the cup of hot coffee that he held cradled in Ms right hand.

  The fat man sat down. His hands rested upon the table. One wrist was exposed, slightly shaded by the palm of the other. For an instant, an oval spot on it darkened and turned black. Within it little yellow grains of light danced and flickered in the familiar patterns of the Big Dipper and of Orion. Then it disappeared, and there was only an innocent plump wrist and the smiling, round face of the fat man above it.

  That identifying mark of the Council of Science could be neither forged nor imitated. The method of its controlled appearance by the exertion of will was just about the most closely guarded secret of the Council.

  The fat man said, "My name is Mel Morriss."

  Lucky said, "I rather thought you were. You've been described to me."

  Bigman sat back and returned his force knife to its place. Mel Morriss was head of the Venusian section of the Council. Bigman had heard of him. In a way he was relieved, and in another way he was just a little disappointed. He had expected a fight-perhaps a quick dash of coffee into the fat man's face, the table overturned, and from then on, anything.

  Lucky said, "Venus seems an unusual and beautiful place."

  "You have observed our fluorescent aquarium?"

  "It is very spectacular," said Lucky.

  The Venusian councilman smiled and raised a finger. The waiter brought him a hot cup of coffee. Morriss let it cool for a moment, then said softly, "I believe you are disappointed to see me here. You expected other company, I think."

  Lucky said coolly, "I had looked forward to an informal conversation with a friend."

  "In fact," said Morriss, "you had sent a message to Councilman Evans to meet you here."

  "I see you know that."

  "Quite. Evans has been under close observation for quite a while. Communications to him are intercepted."

  Their voices were low. Even Bigman had trouble hearing them as they faced one, another, sipping coffee and allowing no trace of expression in their words.

  Lucky said, "You are wrong to do this."

  "You speak as his friend?"

  "I do."

  "And I suppose that, as your friend, he warned you to stay away from Venus."

  "You know about that, too, I see?"

  "Quite. And you had a near-fatal accident in landing on Venus. Am I right?"

  "You are. You're implying that Evans feared some such event?"

  "Feared it? Great space, Starr, your friend Evans engineered that accident."

  3. Yeast!

  LUCKY'S EXPRESSION REMAINED IMPASSIVE. Not by SO

  much as an eye flicker did he betray any concern. "Details, please," he said.

  Morriss was smiling again, half his mouth hidden by his preposterous Venusian mustache. "Not here, I'm afraid."

  "Name your place, then."

  "One moment." Morriss looked at his watch. "In just about a minute, the show will begin. There'll be dancing by sealight."

  "Sealight?"

  "The globe above will shine dim green. People will get up to dance. We will get up with them and quietly leave."

  "You sound as though we are in danger at the moment."

  Morriss said gravely, "You are. I assure you that since you entered Aphrodite, our men have never let you out of their sight."

  A genial voice rang out suddenly. It seemed to come from the crystal centerpiece on the table. From the direction in which other diners turned their attention, it obviously came from the crystal centerpiece on every table.

  It said, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Green Room. Have you eaten well? For your added pleasure, the management is proud to present the magnetonic rhythms of Tobe Tobias and his-"

  As the voice spoke, the lights went out and the remainder of its words were drowned in a rising sigh of wonder that came from the assembled guests, most of whom were fresh from Earth. The aquarium globe in the ceiling was suddenly a luminous emerald green and the sea-ribbon glow was sharply brilliant. The globe assumed a faceted appearance so that, as it turned, drifting shadows circled the room in a soft, almost hypnotic fashion. The sound of music, drawn almost entirely from the weird, husky sound boxes of a variety of magnetonic instruments, grew louder. The notes were produced by rods of various shapes being moved in skillful patterns through the magnetic field that surrounded each instrument.

  Men and women were rising to dance. There was the rustle of much motion and the sibilance of laughing whispers. A touch on Lucky's sleeve brought first him, and then Bigman, to their feet.

  Lucky and Bigman followed Morriss silently. One by one, grim-faced figures fell in behind them. It was almost as though they were materializing out of the draperies. They remained far enough away to look innocent, but each, Lucky felt sure, had his hand near the butt of a blaster. No mistake about it. Mel Morriss of the Venusian section of the Council of Science took the situation very much in earnest.

  Lucky looked about Morriss's apartment with approval. It was not lavish, although it was comfortable. Living in it, one could forget that a hundred yards above was a translucent dome beyond which was a hundred yards of shallow, carbonated ocean, followed by a hundred miles of alien, unbreathable atmosphere.

  What actually pleased Lucky most was the collection of book films that overflowed one alcove.

  He said, "You're a biophysicist, Dr. Morriss?" Automatically, he used the professional title.

  Morriss said, "Yes."

  "I did biophysical work myself at the academy," said Lucky.

  "I know," said Morriss. "I read your paper. It was good work. May I call you David, by the way?"

  "It's my first name," conceded the Earthman, "but everyone calls me lucky."

  Bigman, meanwhile, had opened one of the film holders, unreeled a bit of the film, and held it to the light. He shuddered and replaced it.

  He said belligerently to Morriss, "You sure don't look like a scientist."

  "I imagine not," said Morriss, unoffended
. "That helps, you know."

  Lucky knew what he meant. In these days, when science really permeated all human society and culture, scientists could no longer restrict themselves to their laboratories. It was for that reason that the Council of Science had been born. Originally it was intended only as an advisory body to help the government on matters of galactic importance, where only trained scientists could have sufficient information to make intelligent decisions. More and more it had become a crime-fighting agency, a counterespionage system. Into its own hands it was drawing more and more of the threads of government. Through its activities there might grow, someday, a great Empire of the Milky Way in which all men might live in peace and harmony.

  So it came about that, as members of the Council had to fulfill many duties far removed from pure science, it was better for their success if they didn't look par- ticularly like scientists-as long, that is, as they had the brains of scientists.

  Lucky said, "Would you begin, sir, by filling me in on the details of the troubles here?"

  "How much were you told on Earth?"

  "The barest sketch. I would prefer to trust the man on the scene for the rest."

  Morriss smiled with more than a trace of irony. "Trust the man on the scene? That's not the usual attitude of the men in the central office. They send their own trouble shooters, and men such as Evans arrive."

  "And myself, too," said Lucky.

  "Your case is a little different. We all know of your accomplishments on Mars last year [1] and the good piece of work you've just finished in the asteroids." [2]

  Bigman crowed, "You should have been with Mm if you think you know allabout it."

  Lucky reddened slightly. He said hastily, "Never mind now, Bigman. Let's not have any of your yarns."

  They were all in large armchairs, Earth-manufactured, soft and comfortable. There was something about the reflected sound of their voices that, to Lucky's practiced ear, was good evidence that the apartment was insulated and spy-shielded.

  Morriss lit a cigarette and offered one to the others but was refused. "How much do you know about Venus, Lucky?"