‘Agreed and I want time to think. I’m going to take several hours, at least. And I’m still hoping…’ Poole’s voice trailed off into silence.
‘Hoping what?’
‘That I can make some sort of contact with Dave, or whatever it is, before I attempt to land.’
‘Yes, it’s always rude to drop in uninvited – even with people you know, let alone perfect strangers like the Europs. Perhaps you should take some gifts – what did the old-time explorers use? I believe mirrors and beads were once popular.’
Chandler’s facetious tone did not disguise his real concern, both for Poole and for the valuable piece of equipment he proposed to borrow – and for which the skipper of Goliath was ultimately responsible.
‘I’m still trying to decide how we work this. If you come back a hero, I want to bask in your reflected glory. But if you lose Falcon as well as yourself, what shall I say? That you stole the shuttle while we weren’t looking? I’m afraid no one would buy that story. Ganymede Traffic Control’s very efficient – has to be! If you left without advance notice, they’d be on to you in a microsec – well, a millisecond. No way you could leave unless I file your flight-plan ahead of time.’
‘So this is what I propose to do, unless I think of something better.’
‘You’re taking Falcon out for a final qualification test – everyone knows you’ve already soloed. You’ll go into a two-thousand-kilometre-high orbit above Europa – nothing unusual about that – people do it all the time, and the local authorities don’t seem to object.’
‘Estimated total flight time five hours plus or minus ten minutes. If you suddenly change your mind about coming home, no one can do anything about it – at least, no one on Ganymede. Of course, I’ll make some indignant noises, and say how astonished I am by such gross navigational errors, etc., etc. Whatever will look best in the subsequent Court of Enquiry.’
‘Would it come to that? I don’t want to do anything that will get you into trouble.’
‘Don’t worry – it’s time there was a little excitement round here. But only you and I know about this plot; try not to mention it to the crew – I want them to have – what was that other useful expression you taught me? – “plausible deniability”.’
‘Thanks, Dim – I really appreciate what you’re doing. And I hope you’ll never have to regret hauling me aboard Goliath, out round Neptune.’
Poole found it hard to avoid arousing suspicion, by the way he behaved towards his new crewmates as they prepared Falcon for what was supposed to be a short, routine flight. Only he and Chandler knew that it might be nothing of the kind.
Yet he was not heading into the totally unknown, as he and Dave Bowman had done a thousand years ago. Stored in the shuttle’s memory were high-resolution maps of Europa showing details down to a few metres across. He knew exactly where he wished to go; it only remained to see if he would be allowed to break the centuries-long quarantine.
24
Escape
‘Manual control, please.’
‘Are you sure, Frank?’
‘Quite sure, Falcon… Thank you.’
Illogical though it seemed, most of the human race had found it impossible not to be polite to its artificial children, however simple-minded they might be. Whole volumes of psychology, as well as popular guides (How Not to Hurt Your Computer’s Feelings; Artificial Intelligence – Real irritation were two of the best-known titles) had been written on the subject of Man-Machine etiquette. Long ago it had been decided that, however inconsequential rudeness to robots might appear to be, it should be discouraged. All too easily, it could spread to human relationships as well.
Falcon was now in orbit, just as her flight-plan had promised, at a safe two thousand kilometres above Europa. The giant moon’s crescent dominated the sky ahead, and even the area not illuminated by Lucifer was so brilliantly lit by the much more distant Sun that every detail was clearly visible. Poole needed no optical aid to see his planned destination, on the still-icy shore of the Sea of Galilee, not far from the skeleton of the first spacecraft to land on this world. Though the Europans had long ago removed all its metal components, the ill-fated Chinese ship still served as a memorial to its crew; and it was appropriate that the only ‘town’ – even if an alien one – on this whole world should have been named ‘Tsienville’.
Poole had decided to come down over the Sea, and then fly very slowly towards Tsienville – hoping that this approach would appear friendly, or at least non-aggressive. Though he admitted to himself that this was very na�ve, he could think of no better alternative.
Then, suddenly, just as he was dropping below the thousand-kilometre level, there was an interruption – not of the kind he had hoped for, but one which he had been expecting.
‘This is Ganymede Control calling Falcon. You have departed from your flight-plan. Please advise immediately what is happening.’
It was hard to ignore such an urgent request, but in the circumstances it seemed the best thing to do.
Exactly thirty seconds later, and a hundred kilometres closer to Europa, Ganymede repeated its message. Once again Poole ignored it – but Falcon did not.
‘Are you quite sure you want to do this, Frank?’ asked the shuttle. Though Poole knew perfectly well that he was imagining it, he would have sworn there was a note of anxiety in its voice.
‘Quite sure, Falcon. I know exactly what I’m doing.’
That was certainly untrue, and any moment now further lying might be necessary, to a more sophisticated audience.
Seldom-activated indicator lights started to flash near the edge of the control board. Poole smiled with satisfaction: everything was going according to plan.
‘This is Ganymede Control! Do you receive me, Falcon? You are operating on manual override, so I am unable to assist you. What is happening? You are still descending towards Europa. Please acknowledge immediately.’
Poole began to experience mild twinges of conscience. He thought he recognized the Controller’s voice, and was almost certain that it was a charming lady he had met at a reception given by the Mayor, soon after his arrival at Anubis. She sounded genuinely alarmed.
Suddenly, he knew how to relieve her anxiety – as well as to attempt something which he had previously dismissed as altogether too absurd. Perhaps, after all, it was worth a try: it certainly wouldn’t do any harm – and it might even work.
‘This is Frank Poole, calling from Falcon. I am perfectly OK – but something seems to have taken over the controls, and is bringing the shuttle down towards Europa. I hope you are receiving this – I will continue to report as long as possible.’
Well, he hadn’t actually lied to the worried Controller, and one day he hoped he would be able to face her with a clear conscience.
He continued to talk, trying to sound as if he was completely sincere, instead of skirting the edge of truth.
‘This is Frank Poole aboard the shuttle Falcon, descending towards Europa. I assume that some outside force has taken charge of my spacecraft, and will be landing it safely.’
‘Dave – this is your old shipmate Frank. Are you the entity that is controlling me? I have reason to think that you are on Europa.
‘If so – I look forward to meeting you – wherever or whatever you are.’
Not for a moment did he imagine there would be any reply: even Ganymede Control appeared to be shocked into silence.
And yet, in a way, he had an answer. Falcon was still being permitted to descend towards the Sea of Galilee.
Europa was only fifty kilometres below; with his naked eyes Poole could now see the narrow black bar where the greatest of the Monoliths stood guard – if indeed it was doing that – on the outskirts of Tsienville.
No human being had been allowed to come so close for a thousand years.
25
Fire in the Deep
For millions of years it had been an ocean world, its hidden waters protected from the vacuum of space by a crust of ice. In most places the ice was kilometres thick, but there were lines of weakness where it had cracked open and torn apart. Then there had been a brief battle between two implacably hostile elements that came into direct contact on no other world in the Solar System, The war between Sea and Space always ended in the same stalemate; the exposed water simultaneously boiled and froze, repairing the armour of ice.
The seas of Europa would have frozen completely solid long ago without the influence of nearby Jupiter. Its gravity continually kneaded the core of the little world; the forces that convulsed Io were also working there, though with much less ferocity. Everywhere in the deep was evidence of that tug-of-war between planet and satellite, in the continual roar and thunder of submarine earthquakes, the shriek of gases escaping from the interior, the infrasonic pressure waves of avalanches sweeping over the abyssal plains. By comparison with the tumultuous ocean that covered Europa, even the noisy seas of Earth were muted.