'You're the only one,' said Fowler.
He straightened and swung back to the desk. His hand reached out and picked up the file.
Bennett? Bennett had a girl waiting for him back on Earth.
Andrews? Andrews was planning on going back to Mars Tech just as soon as he earned enough to see him through a year.
Olson? Olson was nearing pension age. All the time telling the boys how he was going to settle down and grow roses.
Carefully, Fowler laid the file back on the desk.
Sentencing men to death. Miss Stanley had said that, her pale lips scarcely moving in her parchment face. Marching men out to die while he, Fowler, sat here safe and comfortable.
They were saying it all through the dome, no doubt, especially since Allen had failed to return. They wouldn't say it to his face, of course. Even the man or men he called before this desk and told they were the next to go, wouldn't say it to him.
But be would see it in their eyes.
He picked up the file again. Bennett, Andrews, Olson. There were others, but there was no use in going on.
Kent Fowler knew that he couldn't do it, couldn't face them, couldn't send more men out to die.
He leaned forward and flipped up the toggle on the inter-communicator.
'Yes, Mr. Fowler.'
'Miss Stanley, please.'
He waited for Miss Stanley, listening to Towser chewing half-heartedly on the bone. Towser's teeth were getting bad.
'Miss Stanley,' said Miss Stanley's voice.
'Just wanted to tell you, Miss Stanley, to get ready for two more.'
'Aren't you afraid,' asked Miss Stanley, 'that you'll run out of them? Sending out one at a time, they'd last longer, give you twice the satisfaction.'
'One of them,' said Fowler, 'will be a dog.'
'A dog!'
'Yes, Towser.'
He heard the quick, cold rage that iced her voice. 'Your own dog! He's been with you all these years-'
'That's the point,' said Fowler. 'Towser would be unhappy if I left him behind.'
It was not the Jupiter he had known through the televisor. He had expected it to be different, but not like this. He had expected a hell of ammonia rain and stinking fumes and the deafening, thundering tumult of the storm. He had expected swirling clouds and fog and the snarling flicker of monstrous thunderbolts.
He had not expected the lashing downpour would be reduced to drifting purple mist that moved like fleeing shadows over a red and purple sward. He had not even guessed the snaking bolts of lightning would be flares of pure ecstasy across a painted sky.
Waiting for Towser, Fowler flexed the muscles of his body, amazed at the smooth, sleek strength he found. Not a bad body, he decided, and grimaced at remembering bow he had pitied the Lopers when he glimpsed them through the television screen.
For it had been hard to imagine a living organism based upon ammonia and hydrogen rather than upon water and oxygen, hard to believe that such a form of life could know the same quick thrill of life that humankind could know. Hard to conceive of life out in the soupy maelstrom that was Jupiter, not knowing, of course, that through Jovian eyes it was no soupy maelstrom at all.
The wind brushed against him with what seemed gentle fingers and be remembered with a start that by Earth standards the wind was a roaring gale, a two-hundred-mile-an hour howler laden with deadly gases.
Pleasant scents seeped into his body. And yet scarcely scents, for it was not the sense of smell as he remembered it. It was as if his whole being was soaking up the sensation of lavender — and yet not lavender. It was something, he knew, for which he had no word, undoubtedly the first of many enigmas in terminology. For the words he knew, the thought symbols that served him as an Earthman would not serve him as a Jovian.
The lock in the side of the dome opened and Towser came tumbling out — at least he thought it must be Towser.
He started to call to the dog, his mind shaping the words he meant to say. But he couldn't say them. There was no way to say them. He had nothing to say them with.
For a moment his mind swirled in muddy terror, a blind fear that eddied in little puffs of panic through his brain.
How did Jovians talk? How Suddenly he was aware of Towser, intensely aware of the
bumbling, eager friendliness of the shaggy animal that had followed him from Earth to many planets. As if the thing that was Towser had reached out and for a moment sat within his brain.
And out of the bubbling welcome that he sensed, came words.
'Hiya, pal.'
Not words, really, better than words. Thought symbols in his brain, communicated thought symbols that had shades of meaning words could never have.
'Hiya, Towser,' he said.
'I feel good,' said Towser. 'Like I was a pup. Lately I've been feeling pretty punk. Legs stiffening up on me and teeth wearing down to almost nothing. Hard to mumble a bone with teeth like that. Besides, the fleas give me hell. Used to be I never paid much attention to them. A couple of fleas more or less never meant much in my early days.'
'But… but-' Fowler's thoughts tumbled awkwardly. 'You're talking to me!'
'Sure thing,' said Towser. 'I always talked to you, but you couldn't hear me. I tried to say things to you, but I couldn't make the grade.'
'I understood you sometimes,' Fowler said.
'Not very well,' said Towser. 'You knew when I wanted food and when I wanted a drink and when I wanted out, but that's about all you ever managed.'
'I'm sorry,' Fowler said.
'Forget it,' Towser told him. 'I'll race you to the cliff.'
For the first time, Fowler saw the cliff, apparently many miles away, but with a strange crystalline beauty that sparkled in the shadow of the many-coloured clouds.
Fowler hesitated. 'It's a long way-'
'Ah, come on,' said Towser and even as he said it he started for the cut.
Fowler followed, testing his legs, testing the strength in that new body of his, a bit doubtful at first, amazed a moment later, then running with a sheer joyousness that was one with the red and purple sward, with the drifting smoke of the rain across the land.
As he ran the consciousness of music came to him, a music that beat into his body, that surged throughout his being, that lifted him on wings of silver speed. Music like bells might make from some steeple on a sunny, springtime bill.
As the cliff drew nearer the music deepened and filled the universe with a spray of magic sound. And he knew the music came from the tumbling waterfall that feathered down the face of the shining cliff.
Only, he knew, it was no waterfall, but an ammonia-fall and the cliff was white because it was oxygen, solidified.
He skidded to a stop beside Towser where the waterfall broke into a glittering rainbow of many hundred colours.
