A babble of human voices interspersed with laughter came from further along the corridor. As Hunt looked up expectantly Shilobin touched his arm to retain his attention for a moment longer.
“That, Dr. Hunt, is the real reason why we feel too ashamed to talk about the Oligocene Earth and its animals,” she said.
chapter thirteen
The Shapieron was pronounced fully functional once more and the Ganymeans announced their intention to take the ship for a test ifight to the outermost fringe of the Solar System. The trip was expected to take about a week.
A mixed gathering of scientists, engineers and UNSA personnel had congregated in the messroom at Pithead to watch the takeoff, the view of which was being relayed from Main Base and shown on the wall screen. Hunt, Carizan and Towers were sharing a table at the back of the room and drinking coffee. As the countdown neared zero, the hubbub of conversation quieted and an air of expectancy descended.
“All UNSA vessels have cleared the area. You’re okay to go on schedule.” The voice of the controller at Main sounded from the audio grille.
“Acknowledged,” the familiar voice of ZORAC replied. “All our prelaunch checks are positive. We’re lifting off now. Au revoir until about a week from now, Earthmen.”
“Sure. See ya around.”
For a few seconds longer the huge, majestic shape, its tail end now retracted and its outer bays closed, remained motionless, towering skyward to dominate the untidy sprawl of the base in the foreground. Then the ship began to lift, slowly and smoothly, sliding up into an unbroken background of stars as the camera followed it and the last ice crest disappeared off the bottom of the picture. Almost at once it started to contract rapidly as the foreshortening increased with the angle at a rate that hinted of the fearsome buildup of speed.
“Man, look at her go!” came the voice from Main. “Do you have radar contact yet, J5?”
“It’s going like greased lightning out of hell,” another voice answered. “We’re starting to lose it. The image is breaking up. They must be on main drive already-their stress field’s starting to scramble the echoes. Image on the optical scanners is losing cc
herence too. . .” And then: “That’s it. It’s gone. . . like it was never there at all. Fantastic!”
That was that. A few low whistles of surprise broke the silence in the messroom at Pithead, followed by muttered exclamations and murmurings. Gradually the fragments of conversation flowed together and merged into a steady continuum of noise that rose and found its own level. The picture on the screen reverted to the view of Main, now looking somehow empty and incomplete without the ship standing in the background. Even after so short a time, life on Ganymede without the Giants around didn’t feel quite right.
“Well, I’ve got to go,” Hunt said, rising from his chair. “Chris wants to talk about something. See you both later.” The other two looked up.
“Sure. See you later.”
“See you, Vic.”
As he moved toward the door, Hunt realized that Pithead didn’t seem right either without a single Ganymean in sight. It was strange, he thought, that every one of them should need to go on a test ifight; but. . . that was not really something for Earthmen to reason why. He realized also that not having ZORAC around would also take some getting used to. He had come unconsciously to accept the ability to communicate directly with others and to consult with the machine, whatever time of day it was or wherever he happened to be. ZORAC had come to be a guide, mentor, tutor and advisor all rolled into one-an omniscient and omnipresent companion. Hunt suddenly felt very alone and isolated without it. The Ganymeans could have left specialized relay equipment at Ganymede that would have sustained a link to ZORAC, but the mutual slowing down of clocks that the Shapieron’s velocity would produce, together with the large distance that its ifight would entail, would soon have made any form of meaningful cornmunication impossible. It was, he admitted privately to himself, going to be a long week.