So his next question, asked in a grim enough voice, was, “Why didn’t you consult me about this, Mark?”
Mark faltered a trifle. “You wouldn’t have believed me. It’s why I had to hit you to keep you from stopping me. None of them would have believed me. They all hated me.”
“What makes you think they hated you?”
“Well, you remember about Dr. Rodriguez.”
“That was quite a while ago. The others had no arguments with you.”
“I could tell the way Dr. Cimon looked at me. And Dr. Fawkes wanted to shoot me with a blaster.”
“What?” Sheffield whirled, forgetting in his own turn any formality due the trial “Say, Fawkes, did you try to shoot him?”
Fawkes stood up, face crimson, as all turned to look at him. He said, “I was out in the woods and he came sneaking up on me. I thought it was an animal and took precautions. When I saw it was he, I put the blaster away.”
Sheffield turned back to Mark. “Is that right?”
Mark turned sullen again. “Well-I asked Dr. Vernadsky to see some data he had collected and he told me not to publish it before he did. He tried to make out that I was dishonest.”
“For the love of Earth, I was only joking,” came a yell from the audience.
Sheffield said hurriedly, “Very well, Mark, you didn’t trust us and you felt you had to take action on your own. Now, Mark, let’s get to the point. What did you think killed the first settlers?”
Mark said, “It might have killed the explorer, Makoyama, too, for all I know except that he died in a crash two months and three days after reporting on Junior, so we’ll never know.”
“All right, but what is it you’re talking about?”
A hush fell over everyone.
Mark looked about and said, “The dust.”
There was general laughter, and Mark’s cheeks flamed.
Sheffield said, “What do you mean?”
“The dust! The dust in the air. It had beryllium in it. Ask Dr. Vernadsky.”
Vernadsky stood up and pushed his way forward. “What’s this?”
“Sure,” said Mark. “It was in the data you showed me. Beryllium was very high in the crust, so it must be in the dust in the air as well.”
Sheffield said, “What if beryllium is there? Let me ask the questions, Vernadsky. Please.”
“Beryllium poisoning, that’s what. If you breathe beryllium dust, non-healing granulomata, whatever they are, form in the lungs. Anyway, it gets hard to breathe and eventually you die.”
A new voice, quite agitated, joined the melee. “What are you talking about? You’re no physician.” It was Novee.
“I know that,” said Mark earnestly, “but I once read a very old book about poisons. It was so old it was printed on actual sheets of paper. The library had some and I went through them because it was such a novelty, you know.”
“All right,” said Novee. “What did you read? Can you tell me?”
Mark’s chin lifted. “I can quote it. Word for word. ‘A surprising variety of enzymatic reactions in the body are activated by any of a number of divalent metallic ions of similar ionic radius. Among these are magnesium, manganous, zinc, ferrous, cobaltous, and nickelous ions, as well as others. Against all of these, the beryllium ion, which has a similar charge and size, acts as an inhibitor. Beryllium therefore serves to derange a number of enzyme-catalyzed reactions. Since the lungs have, apparently, no way of excreting beryllium, diverse metabolic derangements causing serious illness and death can result from inhaling dust containing certain beryllium salts. Cases exist in which one known exposure has resulted in death. The onset of symptoms is insidious, being delayed sometimes for as long as three years after exposure. Prognosis is not good.’”
The Captain leaned forward in agitation. “What’s all this, Novee? Is what he’s saying making sense?”
Novee said, “I don’t know if he’s right or not, but there’s nothing absurd in what he’s saying.”
Sheffield said sharply, “You mean you don’t know if beryllium is poisonous or not.”
“No, I don’t,” said Novee. “I’ve never read anything about it. No case has ever come up.”
“Isn’t beryllium used for anything?” Sheffield turned to Vernadsky. “Is it?”
Vernadsky said in vast surprise, “No, it isn’t. Damn it, I can’t think of a single use. I tell you what, though. In the early days of atomic power, it was used in the primitive uranium piles as a neutron decelerator, along with other things like paraffin and graphite. I’m almost sure of that.”
“It isn’t used now, though?” asked Sheffield.
“No.”
An electronics man said quite suddenly, “I think beryllium-zinc coatings were used in the first fluorescent lights. I seem to recall a mention of that.”
“No more, though?” asked Sheffield.
“No.”
Sheffield said, ”Well then, listen, all of you. In the first place, anything Mark quotes is accurate. That’s what the book said. It’s my opinion that beryllium is poisonous. In ordinary life, it doesn’t matter because the beryllium content of the soil is so low. When man concentrates beryllium to use in nuclear piles or in fluorescent lights or even in alloys, he comes across the toxicity and looks for substitutes.
“He finds substitutes, forgets about beryllium, and eventually forgets about its toxicity. And then we come across an unusual beryllium-rich planet like Junior and we can’t figure out what hits us.”
Cimon didn’t seem to be listening. He said in a low voice, “What does that mean, ‘Prognosis is not good.’”
Novee said abstractedly, “I means that if you’ve got beryllium poisoning, you won’t recover.”
Cimon fell back in his chair, chewing his lip.
Novee said to Mark, “I suppose the symptoms of beryllium poisoning-”
Mark said at once, “I can give you the full list. I don’t understand the words but-”
“Was one of them ‘dyspnea’?”
“Yes.”
“Novee sighed and said, “I say that we get back to Earth as quickly as possible and get under medical investigation.”
Cimon said weakly, “But if we won’t recover, what use is it?”
Novee said, “Medical science has advanced since the days of books printed on paper. Besides, we may not have received the toxic dose. The first settlers survived for over a year of continuous exposure. We’ve had only a month, thanks to Mark Annuncio’s quick and drastic action.”
Fawkes, miserably unhappy, yelled, “For space’ sake, Captain, get out of here and get this ship back to Earth.”
It amounted to the end of the trial. Sheffield and Mark walked out among the first.
Cimon was the last to stir out of his chair, and when he did, it was the listless gait of a man already dead in all but fact.
Twenty-Six
The Lagrange System was only a star lost in the receding cluster.
Sheffield looked at that large patch of light and said, “So beautiful a planet.” He sighed. “Well, let’s hope we live. In any case, the government will watch out for beryllium-high planets in the future. There’ll be no catching mankind with that particular variety of sucker bait any more.”
Mark did not respond to that idealism. The trial was over; the excitement was gone. There were tears in his eyes. He could only think that he might die; and that if he did, there were so many things, so many, many things in the Universe that he would never learn.