“There is no such thing as overeducation,” Williams replied primly. “I asked you a perfectly straightforward question. And if we’re going to make comments about size, let me say I’d ten times rather be my height than a grotesque variant of a macrocephalian like certain people I know.”
“You mean macrocerebral,” said September. “Forget it. It’s just that you’re not first in line.”
“What’s going on, Milliken?” Ethan asked him.
“There seems to be a bit of a problem. More than a bit, actually. A very considerable problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Ethan was patient with the teacher. He had a way of talking around a subject rather than going straight to the point. You had to prod him or the conversation would languish among irrelevancies.
“It involves Tran-ky-ky.”
“I figured that much. I don’t want to sound impatient, Milliken, but Skua has a shuttle to catch.”
“Plenty of time before liftoff. I know. I checked the schedule. I was just wondering if you’d mind listening to a full discussion of this problem.”
“Anything to get this over with.” September swallowed the rest of his snack in a single gulp.
“You said it involves Tran-ky-ky,” Ethan reminded the teacher. “In what way?”
“We’re not sure. The entire planet may be at risk.”
Ethan sipped at his drink. “The sun’s not going nova or anything like that?”
“No, no, nothing so immediate or dramatic. It’s just that, well, there’s a climatological anomaly that nobody has a decent explanation for and it’s driving the meteorology staff crazy. By now the members of the local scientific community know about the three of us and our experiences. They know that our knowledge of Tran-ky-ky isn’t theoretical, that we’ve had ‘hands on’ dealings with the world beyond Brass Monkey.”
“Hands on for sure,” said September. “I don’t know that participating in the bashing of hostile locals qualifies us as scientific experts on much of anything.”
Williams didn’t so much as crack a smile. “This is a serious business, Skua.”
“Deity save us from serious business. What you’re saying is that some folks just want to ask us a few questions, right?”
Williams nodded.
“Milliken, you’re the only one of us who’s had anything that could be called scientific training. You’ve been everywhere Skua and I have. Why don’t they just talk to you?”
“First because no one is yet positive this matter is of a wholly scientific nature and second because some of the staff doubt their own conclusions. They’re desperately searching for as many possibilities of confirmation as possible. They’re afraid of being ridiculed. Since the three of us have been out there and know what Tran-ky-ky is like, they’re fairly certain we won’t ridicule them. Argue and dispute, yes, but not ridicule.”
September pushed away from the table. “Don’t let ’em be so sure. Let’s get on with it.”
“Do we have to go outside?” Ethan stared through the cafeteria window at the blowing snow.
“The main research center is reachable via the underground walkways, but it would be faster to cut across open ground.”
“We’ll walk the extra meters,” Ethan told him.
III
DURING THEIR BRIEF STAYS in Brass Monkey neither Ethan nor Skua had had any reason to visit the research complex. It was the oldest group of buildings in Brass Monkey and the rationale for the outpost’s establishment in the first place. Scouts first, scientists after, lastly bureaucrats. Like the rest of the outpost complex it was largely buried beneath the ice and permafrost.
The large meeting room Williams led them into lay several levels beneath the surface of Arsudun. Half a dozen curious faces turned to inspect them when they arrived. Out of this pack of intelligent speculation emerged a woman even shorter than the schoolteacher.
She wore a bright blue jumpsuit with green and white insignia and patches. Ethan had expected a white lab smock. Her hair was straight, jet black, and cut off in a straight line just above shoulder level. She might have been thirty or sixty. Her handshake was firm.
“I am Cheela Hwang. There are my fellow crisis mongers.” She introduced each of her companions in turn. “In case Milliken hasn’t told you, I am in charge of the meteorology department at Brass Monkey. As you might imagine, knowing Tran-ky-ky, we constitute a fairly large contingent here.”
“Weather’d be about the only thing worth studying on this world,” September commented, “excepting the locals, of course.”
She tilted back her head to try and meet his gaze. “Milliken forewarned me about your attitude as well as your sense of humor, Mr. September.”
The giant grinned slightly. “I’ll try to comport myself in a civilized manner and not eat any of your subordinates.”
“What’s this problem all of you are so exercised about?” Ethan asked her.
“Over here, please.” She led them toward the far wall, fingering a small remote control she took from one of the jumpsuit’s pockets. The wall came to light. It was an integrated tridee screen, which explained why it was the only partition in the room devoid of pictures, photographs, or other hangings.
“Perhaps you recognize this, Mr. Fortune.”
“Just Ethan will do fine.” He stared at the wailful of whorls and swirls. The colors were bright, the outlines regular. “Infrared photographs, but of what?”
“The ground we’re standing in, young feller-me-lad.” September gestured at the wall. “That blob up there, that’s Arsudun. Those smaller spots represent the Landgrave’s town, Brass Monkey, and the like.”
“You have a fine eye for information.” Hwang sounded approving.
September shrugged. “I’ve had some experience identifying topographic features from above. Why the infrared? Why not just a straight satellite photo?”
One of Hwang’s colleagues spoke up, a touch of bitterness in his voice. “This is a minor outpost. We don’t rate a fully equipped survey satellite. No high-resolution cameras. Just straightforward instrumentation.”
Ethan wanted to ask his friend where he’d gained experience “identifying topographic features from above,” but Hwang was pressing on, using her remote’s built-in pointer to trace features on the wall as the image changed.
“Do you recognize this?” The center of the picture was an intense orange.
“Looks like Sofold,” Ethan ventured. “The home island of our Tran friends. The central volcano is unmistakable.”
“That is correct. And this?” The two men stared hard at the image and looked blank. “That’s not surprising,” Hwang told them. “There’s no way you could recognize it because you haven’t been there. No human has. It lies far to the southeast of Arsudun.” She ran the wall through a rapid sequence of similar images.
“This is an infrared mosaic of the large southern continent.” Her pointer moved over the images like a two-dimensional insect. “Notice these features here. These big clouds and”—she dipped the pointer—“this heat shadow on the ice ocean.”
“What about them?” Ethan asked.
“They shouldn’t be there.” This from Gerald Fraser, an assistant. “They’re all wrong. We’ve been studying Tran-ky-ky’s climate for quite a while now. We’ve done mapping for years and the climate’s been under intensive examination ever since the establishment of the outpost here. There haven’t been any big surprises. Everything involving the weather has been pretty predictable and very consistent. Then this.” He waved a hand at the wall. “It’s like finding a lump of coal in your ice cream.”