Lazar smiled faintly. He knew I’d oversimplified, but he wasn’t saying anything.
Polius turned to him. “Cleon… is she… is that right?”
“Lieutenant Chang may be slightly conservative. I would judge that she might be able to hold position over the lake for so long as seventeen and a half minutes before all systems failed.”
Polius missed the glint in his eyes. I didn’t.
“How slowly can you go?” demanded the geologist.
I linked to the shuttle system for the calculations. My own estimate had been close, but I’d wanted the backup. “It’s a power trade-off. At a thousand meters AGL, the shuttle’s limited to roughly two hours at max power in this grav field before the heat dissipaters—”
“The temperature out there is close to absolute zero, and you can’t dissipate heat?”
“Not inside the shuttle.”
Clear that Polius had trouble understanding trade-offs. Greater heat dissipation meant either less endurance in deep space or even greater systems complexity. Complexity is the enemy of effectiveness and survivability in space.
“What about two thousand meters?” asked Lazar.
“You’ll get another thirty to forty minutes. Either way, we’ll have to return to the Magellan before I can set you back down on Danann.”
“Power constraints?” asked Lazar.
“Exactly.”
“You mean we have to go back to the ship?”
“Only for fusactor mass.”
“But…” Lazar was frowning.
“We’re getting the water from the surface, as ice, but it has to be melted and purified.” Purification wasn’t absolutely necessary in emergency situations, but I didn’t want the shuttle sidelined for feed-line cleaning and repairs just to accommodate a pouty geologist—and there was always the possibility of power surges with impure mass. Not something I wanted to experience in dealing with a higher-grav planet without an atmosphere.
“We’ll try two thousand meters, then,” Lazar stated.
Polius glared. Kept her mouth shut, though. Physicist ignored her. I would have, too.
They settled into the couches mounted before the equipment boards. I went back to the controls and began the liftoff checklist.
Navigator Control, this is Sherpa Tigress, commencing mission liftoff this time.
Stet, Tigress.
Couldn’t tell if Morgan was pleased, worried, indifferent.
While I circled the shuttle over the frozen surface of the lake, I used the screens to catch and record images— all through temperature differentials. Still pitch-black below. Images had to be enhanced, and enlarged. Mostly recorded, but occasionally even took a look. Saw one gout of steam shoot up through a crack in the ice—so thin that it quick-froze and fell like ice dust.
Also monitored the internal comm between Polius and Lazar.
“… temperatures at the bottom more than four hundred Kelvins…”
“… readings… circular pattern… ovals again…”
“… look at that! That plume is almost a hundred meters high…”
I kept a close eye on the fusactor and the AG drives. The slightest excess heat trend, and we were headed to orbit and the Magellan.
Surface of the ice was covered with humps and small peaks. They hadn’t been there two days before. Whatever was under the lake was something different. No radioactives I knew lasted billions of years without significant decay. No device humans built would create that much heat that soon, especially not after even a century of disuse. Danann had been abandoned billions of years back.
Seeing those gouts of superheated steam turning into icefalls sent chills down my back, insulated armor or not.
46
Fitzhugh
Despite the lack of artifacts and my inability even to suggest where such might be found, the three days I had spent on Danann had been more than worth the exhaustion and inconvenience. No matter what Dr. Taube and some of those who had demurred from visiting the megaplex said, seeing and walking through a city—even an alien city—imparted a feel that no amount of statistics and maps could have conveyed. Rational and considered analyses may be the coin of the realm of academia, but such analyses are worthless unless backed by intuition grounded in experience.
In the days following my return, I stepped up my exercise program and tried to find greater meaning in the positioning of the Danannian structures.
On twoday, I had spent the morning deep in analyzing ratios and arcs… and getting results, but not ones that contributed much to my understanding of the Danannian megaplex, save that there seemed to be a relationship between the length of each canal and the angular value of the arc formed. So engrossed had I been in calculations that doubtless would heterize nothing that I was more than slightly tardy in reaching the mess.
For whatever reason, the captain was only settling herself at her table as I hastened into the mess. While Special Deputy Minister Allerde was already seated, two chairs to the captain’s left, the executive officer was not present, nor was Commander Morgan, but Major Tepper and a number of the pilots were seated at the table closest to the captain’s table. Lieutenant Chang glanced in my direction, then looked away quickly. Had I offended her in some untoward fashion? I hoped not. For all her terseness, and despite her considerable pulchritude, behind both lay a mind of considerable power and depth, and I would have liked to talk with her far more.
Yet… how could I broach the diffidence she cultivated? One could not say, even indirectly, “I believe you have a beautiful mind, and I would appreciate the chance to know you in greater depth,” without being instantly categorized as lupine in character and lecherous in intent.
There was a space at the table adjoining the one occupied by the pilots, and I eased into a seat across from Chendor Barna, the almost reclusive artist, and beside Bryanna Nomura. As the expeditions cryptographer, Bryanna’s utility heretofore had been as marginal as my own. “Good evening.”
“And to you, Liam.” She smiled.
“I fear we represent a convention of the underutilized…”
“Perhaps.” She took a sip of ersatz merlot. “I have been thinking. About linguistics and codes. We need them, but would the Danannians?”
I passed on imbibing the merlot, ignoring the carafe to my right and sipping plain water instead. “That’s an old argument. Given our physiological evolution and limitations, language is a necessity if we wish to function above the most basic level of hunter-gatherers. Therefore, we assume that language, especially a written language, would be a necessity for all species, including ancient aliens.”
“Could the megaplex have been a hive, and could the Danannians have been the ultimate social insect species? All this similarity suggests great regularity, and to me, that suggests a culture more like intelligent social insects…” She paused, tilting her head, her black eyes intent upon me.
“That would appear to be the initial and obvious conclusion, and one borne out by our own experience, but I would question the validity of an assumptive determination based on unconscious application of anthropic principles.”
“An explanation might help, Professor.”
Restraining the urge to comment upon Bryanna’s lack of perspicacity and unfamiliarity with the richness and depth of language, I forced a smile. “We might do better by taking into account ser Barna’s disciplines, and regard the structures and dwellings below as blank canvases or untouched light matrices.”