‘I see you’ve been doing your homework. But it’s a waste of time. You’ll never convince Tanya.’
‘I don’t expect to – at this stage,’ Floyd answered. ‘But I’d like her to know that the possibility exists. Will you give us moral support?’
‘I’m not sure. But I’ll come along to watch; it should be interesting.’
Tanya listened more patiently than Floyd had expected, but with distinct lack of enthusiasm. However, by the time he had finished, she showed what could only be called reluctant admiration.
‘Very ingenious, Heywood -,
‘Don’t congratulate me. All the credit should go to Walter. Or the blame.’
‘I don’t imagine there will be much of either; it can never be more than a – what did Einstein call that sort of thing? – “thought experiment”. Oh, I suspect it would work – in theory, at least. But the risks! So many things could go wrong. I’d only be prepared to consider it if we had absolute and positive proof that we were in danger. And with all respect, Heywood, I see not the slightest evidence of that.’
‘Fair enough; but at least you now know that we have another option. Do you mind if we work out the practical details – just in case?’
‘Of course not – as long as it doesn’t interfere with the preflight checkout. I don’t mind admitting that the idea does intrigue me. But it’s really a waste of time; there’s no way I’d ever approve it. Unless David Bowman appeared to me personally.’
‘Would you even then, Tanya?’
Captain Orlova smiled, but without much humour. ‘You know, Heywood – I’m really not sure. He’d have to be very persuasive.’
44
Vanishing Trick
It was a fascinating game in which everyone joined – but only when off duty. Even Tanya contributed ideas to the ‘thought experiment’, as she continued to call it.
Floyd was perfectly well aware that all the activity was generated not by fear of an unknown danger that only he took seriously, but by the delightful prospect of returning to Earth at least a month earlier than anyone had imagined. Whatever the motive, he was satisfied. He had done his best, and the rest was up to the Fates.
There was one piece of luck, without which the whole project would have been stillborn. The short, stubby Leonov, designed to drill safely through the Jovian atmosphere during the braking manoeuvre, was less than half the length of Discovery and so could be neatly piggybacked on the larger vessel, And the midships antenna mount would provide an excellent anchor point – assuming that it was strong enough to take the strain of Leonov’s weight while Discovery’s drive was operating.
Mission Control was sorely puzzled by some of the requests flashed back to Earth during the next few’ days. Stress analyses of both ships, under peculiar loads; effects of off-axis thrusts; location of unusually strong or weak points in the hulls – these were only some of the more esoteric problems the perplexed engineers were asked to tackle. ‘Has something gone wrong?’ they inquired anxiously.
‘Not at all,’ Tanya replied. ‘We’re merely investigating possible options. Thank you for your cooperation. End of transmission.’
Meanwhile, the programme went ahead as planned. All systems were carefully checked in both ships, and readied for the separate voyages home; Vasili ran simulations on return trajectories and Chandra fed them to Hal when they had been debugged – getting Hal to make a final check in the process. And Tanya and Floyd worked amicably together orchestrating the approach to Big Brother like generals planning an invasion.
It was what he had come all the way to do, yet Floyd’s heart was no longer in it. He had undergone an experience he could share with no one – even those who believed him. Though he carried out his duties efficiently, much of the time his mind was elsewhere.
Tanya understood perfectly.
‘You’re still hoping for that miracle to convince me, aren’t you?’
‘Or deconvince me – that would be equally acceptable. It’s the uncertainty that I dislike.’
‘So do I. But it won’t be much longer now – one way or the other.’
She glanced briefly toward the situation display, where the figure 20 was slowly flashing. It was the most unnecessary bit of information in the entire ship, since everyone knew by heart the number of days until the launch window opened.
And the assault on Zagadka was scheduled.
For the second time, Heywood Floyd was looking the other way when it happened. But it would have made no difference in any case; even the vigilant monitor camera showed only a faint blur between one full frame and the subsequent blank one.
Once more he was on duty aboard Discovery, sharing the graveyard shift with Sasha over on Leonov. As usual, the night had been totally uneventful; the automatic systems were performing their jobs with their normal efficiency. Floyd would never have believed, a year ago, that he would one day orbit Jupiter at a distance of a few hundred thousand kilometres and give it barely a glance – while trying; not very successfully, to read The Kreutzer Sonata in the original. According to Sasha, it was still the finest piece of erotic fiction in (respectable) Russian literature, but Floyd had not yet progressed far enough to prove that. And now he never would.
At 0125 he was distracted by a spectacular, though not unusual, eruption on the terminator of Io. A vast umbrella-shaped cloud expanded into space, and started to shower its debris back on to the burning land below. Floyd had seen dozens of such eruptions, but they never ceased to fascinate him. It seemed incredible that so small a world could be the seat of such titanic energies.
To get a better view, he moved around to one of the other observation windows. And what he saw there – or, rather, what he did not see there – made him forget about Io, and almost everything else.
When he had recovered, and satisfied himself that he was not suffering – again? – from hallucinations, he called the other ship.
‘Good morning, Woody,’ yawned Sasha. ‘No – I wasn’t asleep. How are you getting on with old Tolstoi?’
‘I’m not. Take a look outside and tell me what you see.’
‘Nothing unusual, for this part of the cosmos. Io doing its thing. Jupiter. Stars. Oh my God!’
‘Thanks for proving I’m sane. We’d better wake the skipper.’
‘Of course. And everyone else. Woody – I’m scared.’
‘You’d be a fool not to be. Here we go. Tanya? Tanya? Woody here. Sorry to wake you up – but your miracle’s happened. Big Brother has gone. Yes – vanished. After three million years, he’s decided to leave.
‘I think he must know something that we don’t.’
It was a sombre little group that gathered, during the next fifteen minutes, for a hasty conference in the wardroom-cum-observation lounge. Even those who had just gone to sleep were instantly awake, as they sipped thoughtfully from bulbs of hot coffee – and kept glancing at the shockingly unfamiliar scene outside Leonov’s windows, to convince themselves that Big Brother had indeed vanished.
‘It must know something that we don’t.’ That spontaneous phrase of Floyd’s had been repeated by Sasha and now hung silently, ominously, in the air. He had summed up what everyone was now thinking – even Tanya.
It was still too early to say ‘I told you so’ – nor did it really matter whether that warning had any validity. Even if it was perfectly safe to stay, there was no point in doing so. With nothing to investigate, they might as well go home, just as quickly as possible. Yet it was not quite as simple as that.
‘Heywood,’ said Tanya, ‘I’m now prepared to take that message, or whatever it was, much more seriously. I’d be stupid not to after what’s happened. But even if there is danger here, we still have to weigh one risk against another. Coupling Leonov and Discovery together, operating Discovery with that huge off-axis load, disconnecting the ships in a matter of minutes so we can fire our engines at the right moment; no responsible captain would take such chances without very good – I’d say overwhelming – reasons. Even now, I don’t have such reasons. I’ve only got the word of … a ghost. Not very good evidence in a court of law.’
‘Or a court of inquiry,’ said Walter Curnow, in an unusually quiet voice, ‘even if we all backed you up.’
‘Yes, Walter – I was thinking of that. But if we get home safely, that will justify everything – and if we don’t, it hardly matters, does it? Anyway, I’m not going to decide now. As soon as we’ve reported this, I’m going back to bed. I’ll give you my decision in the morning after I’ve slept on it. Heywood, Sasha, will you come up to the bridge with me? We have to wake up Mission Control, before you go back on watch.’