sunrise terminator lies in that longitude, its peak shining de-
tached in the darkness like a little star. A semicircular shelf
juts westward out over the Gouge from the base of Howe’s pi,
it sides bafflingly sheer for a world which shows no other
signs of folded strata.
It was on that shelf that the other Adapted Men lived.
Sweeney stared down at the nearly invisible mountain with
its star-fire peak for a long time, wondering why he was not
reacting. Any appropriate emotion would do: anticipation,
alarm, eagerness, anything at all, even fear. For that matter,
having been locked up in a safe for over two months should
by now have driven him foaming to get out, even if only to
join the Adapted Men. Instead, the tranquility persisted. He
was unable to summon more than a momentary curiosity over
Howe’s pi before his eye was drawn away to Jupiter himself,
looming monstrous and insanely-colored only 600,000 miles
away, give or take a few thousand. And even that planet had
attracted him only because it was brighter; otherwise, it had
no meaning.
“Mickey?” he said, forcing himself to look back down into
the Gouge.
“Right here, Sweeney. How does it look?’
“Oh, like a relief map. That’s how they all look. Where are
you going to put me down? Don’t the orders leave it up to
us?”
“Yeah. But I don’t think there’s any choice,” Meikiejon’s
voice said, less hesitantly. “It’ll have to be the big plateau
Howe’s H.”
Sweeney scanned the oval mare with a mild distaste. Stand-
ing on that, he would be as conspicuous as if he’d been