Macroscope

Ivo drifted across to the scene of activity. Men were still busy, but the task appeared to be virtually complete. No one paid attention to him — a deliberate and necessary slight, he realized. He could anticipate the coming dialogue:

UN: What happened to the macroscope? PERSONNEL: We didn’t see anything. Must’ve been that new fellow, the one Dr. Carpenter brought in. We were just shaping it up for a shift in orbit—

And Dr. Carpenter would not be in condition to answer questions.

As a matter of fact, their investigation into the circumstances surrounding Senator Borland’s demise would run into the same blank end. Only two people had shared the experience that killed him; one was absent in mind, the other would be absent in body. Perhaps the alien signal was to blame for both? Kovonov would remark upon the strangeness of the thief’s prior actions: barging into an i

It was not the place in history Ivo would have selected for himself, but it was necessary. The macroscope had to be saved from the UN repercussion, and it was better that a person like Ivo Archer bear the onus than one like Dr. Kovonov. Even through the language barrier, Ivo had come to appreciate the qualities of the man.

He landed on the head of the mushroom and made his way to the lock. No workmen, coincidentally, were facing in his direction. The coincidence held for the several minutes it took him to reach the lock and figure out its mode of operation. It seemed it could be opened from the outside, with the proper tool — and such a tool had been forgotten nearby. It was stuck to the metal hull, held there by its magnetism. An insertion, a twist; the mechanism clicked over, and the lock came open with no wasteful outrush of air. He climbed inside and shut himself in.

Groton was waiting for him. “Everything clear? We want to be ready to move as soon as the crew finishes. I don’t know how rapidly the UN ship will get here.”

“They seem to be finished outside, if that’s what you mean.”

Groton put on earphones. “Ivo’s here,” he said into the intercom. “Give us two minutes to strap down, then cut loose, girls.”

Ivo could not hear the reply, but he had been reassured of one thing: Afra was coming along. He had known she had to come, yet doubted it too. To go to space with her…

They tied down on either side of the mighty nose cone that transfixed the center compartment. There was a port set in its side for direct admission to Joseph, but this remained sealed.

The framework shuddered; then they were smitten by the power of the atomic rocket. At triple-gravity acceleration, the macroscope tore free of its moorings.

Five grueling minutes later the drive cut off and they were in blessed free-fall again. “We’re on our way,” Groton said soberly. “Let’s confer with the pilot.” He unstrapped and jostled around to the hatch in the nose of Joseph.

It opened, and a helmeted figure emerged, clumsy and drifting upward (according to Ivo’s orientation) in the confined absence of gravity. Groton held on to the deck with his toes hooked into a handhold and offered a steadying arm. It was Beatryx.

A second figure floated through: Afra. “I think we’d better put him in here,” she said. “He doesn’t need to move about…”

“Him?” Ivo asked.

She trained those beautiful eyes upon him: “Brad. I couldn’t leave him behind, of course.”

Paradise lost! Yet with the keen disappointment came the relief of something else as well: guilt. The dead man was here to look after his own.

And Brad had been Ivo’s friend, too.

They got the limp body set up in a nook formed by outthrusts of inscrutable equipment. Ivo, entering Joseph, found stacked, tied crates: the plentiful supplies whose loading Afra had supervised. They seemed to have pla

The immediate chores accomplished, they clung to handholds (the magnetic shoes had been discarded with the suits) and stared at each other. Carefully pla

Afra stepped into the breach. “Obviously we have two objectives: keep clear of the UN, and pick up Schön. We should be able to do the first as long as we keep moving away from Earth — but we can’t accomplish the second without coming in close to Earth. That’s our problem.”

“That’s assuming Schön is on Earth,” Groton said.

Afra closed on Ivo. “Is Schön on Earth?”

“No.”

“Wonderful! We’ll have much less trouble reaching him in space, though it won’t be easy even so. The moon station wouldn’t really be much of an improvement, but one of the asteroid units… Where is he?”

“I am not free to tell you.”

Afra’s mercurial temper showed. “Now look, Ivo. We have gone to a good deal of trouble, not to mention banishment, to make it possible for you to summon Schön and bring him to the macroscope. You can’t simply—”

“Excuse me,” Groton said. “We know Ivo isn’t trying to be obstructive. Let’s give him a chance to explain what he means.”

Ivo found this approach no more acceptable than the other. “I can’t explain. Schön isn’t — well, I’m just not certain yet that we need him.”

Afra became deadly quiet. “You mean you won’t bring him?”

“I guess that’s what I mean.”

Her righteous wrath magnified. “And all by yourself you’re going to hide Joseph and operate the macroscope and get medical help for—”

This time it was Beatryx who broke in. “I think I have a letter for someone,” she said. “I found it in the chute, but everything was in such a hurry—”

Groton took it from her. “Could be an unofficial farewell from someone.” He looked at the address. “An arrow?”

“An arrow!” Afra was suddenly interested. “That’s from Schön!”

Ivo took it and opened it, not happily. It was obvious that Schön was at least partially aware of recent events, and that surely meant trouble.

The paper within contained no words, just a diagram. The others clustered around to look at it.

“A pitchfork,” Beatryx said, concerned because she had delivered the message. “What does it mean?”

“I hesitate to point this out—” Groton began.

“Let me think!” Afra said. “I’ve been through this before. Schön doesn’t like to communicate directly for some reason, but what he has to say is bound to be important.” She took the paper and floated off by herself, concentrating.

Groton produced his notebook and wrote something down. “Schön must know where we are and what we’re doing,” he said. “Could this be a hint where to find him?”

“It isn’t that easy,” Ivo said.

“Neptune!” Afra exclaimed. “That’s the symbol for Neptune!”

“God of the sea — and more,” Groton said, holding out his paper. Upon it, Ivo saw now, was the word NEPTUNE. Groton had known, waiting only for Afra’s confirmation.

“The planet,” she said. “That’s the trident. All the planets have their symbols. Mars is the spear and shield of the god of war; Venus is the goddess’s hand-mirror. So this is Neptune.”

“Your interpretation is interesting,” Groton said, privately amused about something. “But remember, those symbols do have other co

“Male and female, of course,” Afra said. “But Neptune is unmistakable.”

Groton did not push the matter, but Ivo was sure he had been driving at something else.