“Anyway”-he brought himself back to the immediate subject on hand with an effort-” the two main rivers join about a hundred miles south of the equator and pour through a gap in the western range. They make it to the ocean after that in just short of eighty miles.
“Where it hits the ocean is a natural spot for the planetary metropolis. The trade routes into the interior of the continent have to converge there so it would be the inevitable emporium for space trade. Even as far as surface trade is concerned, the continental east coast has to move goods across the ocean. Jumping the eastern range isn’t worth the effort. Then, too, there are the islands we saw when we were landing.
“So right there is where I would have looked for the settlement even if we didn’t have a record of the latitude and longitude. And those settlers had an eye for the future. It’s where they set up shop.”
Novee said in a low voice, “They thought they had an eye for the future, anyway. There isn’t much left of them, is there?”
Fawkes tried to be philosophic about it. ”It’s been over a century. What do you expect? There’s a lot more left of them than I honestly thought there would be. Their buildings were mostly prefab. They’ve tumbled and vegetation has forced its way over and through them. The fact that the climate of Junior if glacial is what’s preserved it. The trees-or the objects that rather look like trees-are small and obviously very slow growing.
“Even so, the clearing is gone. From the air, the only way you could tell there had once been a settlement in that spot was that the new growth had a slightly different color and- and, well, texture-than the surrounding forests.”
He pointed at a particular photograph. “This is just a slag heap. Maybe it was machinery once. I think those are burial mounds.”
Novee said, “Any actual remains? Bones?”
Fawkes shook his head.
Novee said, “The last survivors didn’t bury themselves, did they?”
Fawkes said, “Animals, I suppose.” He walked away, his back to the group. ”It was raining when I poked my way through. It went splat, splat on the flat leaves above me and the ground was soggy and spongy underneath. It was dark, gloomy. There was a cold wind. The pictures I took don’t get it across. I felt as though there were a thousand ghosts, waiting-”
The mood was contagious.
Cimon said savagely, “Stop that!”
In the background, Mark Annuncio’s pointed nose fairly quivered with the intensity of his curiosity. He turned to Sheffield, who was at his side, and whispered, “Ghosts? No authentic case of seeing-”
Sheffield touched Mark’s thin shoulder lightly. “Only a way of speaking, Mark. But don’t feel badly that he doesn’t mean it literally. You’re watching the birth of a superstition, and that’s something, isn’t it?”
Fourteen
A semi-sullen Captain Follenbee sought out Cimon the evening after Fawkes’ second return and said in his harumphy way, ”Never do, Dr. Cimon. My men are unsettled. Very unsettled.”
The port shields were open. Lagrange I was six hours gone, and Lagrange II’s ruddy light, deepened to crimson in setting, flushed the Captain’s face and tinged his short gray hair with red.
Cimon, whose attitude toward the crew in general and the Captain in particular was one of controlled impatience, said, “What is the trouble, Captain?”
“Been here two weeks, Earth time. Still no one leaves without suits. Always irradiate before you come back. Anything wrong with the air?”
“Not as far as we know.”
“Why not breathe it then?”
“Captain, that’s for me to decide.”
The flush on the Captain’s face became a real one. He said, “My papers say I don’t have to stay if ship’s safety is endangered. A frightened and mutinous crew is something I don’t want”
“Can’t you handle your own men?”
“Within reason.”
“Well, what really bothers them? This is a new planet and we’re being cautious. Can’t they understand that?”
“Two weeks and still cautious. They think we’re hiding something. And we are. You know that. Besides, surface leave is necessary. Crew’s got to have it. Even if it’s just on a bare rock a mile across. Gets them out of the ship. Away from the routine. Can’t deny them that.”
“Give me till tomorrow,” said Cimon contemptuously.
Fifteen
The scientists gathered in the observatory the next day.
Cimon said, “Vernadsky tells me the data on air is still negative, and Rodriguez has discovered no air-borne pathogenic organism of any type.”
There was a general air of dubiety over the last statement.
Novee said, “The settlement died of disease. I’ll swear to that.”
“Maybe so,” said Rodriguez at once, ”but can you explain how? It’s impossible. I tell you that and I tell you. See here. Almost all Earth-type planets give birth to life and that life is always protein in nature and always either cellular or virus in organization. But that’s all. There the resemblance ends.
“You laymen think it’s all the same; Earth or any planet. Germs are germs and viruses are viruses. I tell you you don’t understand the infinite possibilities for variation in the protein molecule. Even on Earth, every species has its own diseases. Some may spread over several species but there isn’t one single pathogenic life form of any type on Earth that can attack all other species.
“You think that a virus or a bacterium developing independently for a billion yeans on another planet with different amino acids, different enzyme systems, a different scheme of metabolism altogether is just going to happen to find Homo sapiens succulent like a lollipop. I tell you it is childishness.”
Novee, his physician’s soul badly pierced at having been lumped under the phrase, “You laymen,” was not disposed to let it go that easily, ”Homo sapiens brings its own germs with it wherever it goes, Rod. Who’s to say the virus of the common cold didn’t mutate under some planetary influence into something that was suddenly deadly? Or influenza. Things like have happened even on Earth. The 2755 para-meas-”
“I know all about the 2755 para-measles epidemic,” said Rodriguez, “and the 1918 influenza epidemic, and the Black Death, too. But when has it happened lately? Granted the settlement was a matter of a century and more ago-still that wasn’t exactly pre-atomic times, either. They included doctors. They had supplies of antibiotics and for space’ sake, they knew the techniques of antibody induction. They’re simple enough. And there was the medical relief expedition, too.”
Novee patted his round abdomen and said stubbornly, “The symptoms were those of a respiratory infection; dyspnea-”
“I know the list, but I tell you it wasn’t a germ disease that got them. It couldn’t be.”
“What was it, then?”
“That’s outside my professional competence. Talking from inside, I tell you it wasn’t infection. Even mutant infection. It couldn’t be. It mathematically couldn’t be.” He leaned heavily on the adverb.