flow instruments. On Earth such sensors measured the heat welling up toward the surface from the molten magma deep below the crust.
'Not a helluva lot, is it?' Jamie muttered, straining his eyes at the tiny red numerals as if he could make them come alive by just staring hard enough.
Toshima said nothing. He sat with his hands folded politely on his lap.
'The planet’s colder than a frozen potato,' Jamie grumbled. 'There’s not enough heat coming up from its core to warm a cup of tea.'
'No thermal flow in the canyon?'
Unconsciously kneading both thighs in frustration Jamie replied, 'That’s just it: we don’t have any instruments down on the canyon floor. That may be the one place where some heat actually is flowing up out of the core, but we don’t have any sensors down there to check it out!'
Toshima bowed his head slightly, this time to show understanding. 'I see. We must put sensors on the canyon floor if we hope to understand what forms the mists.'
'Not just sensors,' Jamie said, his voice urgent. 'We’ve got to get down there ourselves. Somehow, we’ve got to get a team down on the floor of that canyon.'
Li Chengdu smiled thinly at the trio of images on his screen. This was such an important decision that all three project directors wanted to discuss it with him.
I can thank Waterman for this, Dr. Li said to himself. If it were not for him everything would be going according to plan.
'…we have therefore instructed the mission controllers,' the somber-faced Russian director was saying, 'to prepare a plan for a traverse of the Tithonium Chasma region, including — if possible — a direct examination of the floor of the canyon. Since it will take a minimum of two weeks to put such a plan into effect…'
He’s done it, Dr. Li thought as he listened with only half his attention to the Russian’s droning voice. Waterman has gotten them to shatter the mission schedule completely and agree to a traverse of Tithonium.
The expedition commander eyed the other two project directors as the Russian continued his formal instructions. The Japanese director was trying his best to look impassive, but Li could detect a gleam of pleased excitement in his dark eyes. The American, veteran of Washington’s political knife fights, had a benign little smile playing across his fleshy, florid face.
'…Father DiNardo will chair the ad hoc committee that will prepare the traverse plan. Dr. Brumado will attend the committee meetings as an ex officio member…'
The Russian droned on and on, like an old Orthodox priest reciting some inflexible ritual.
How they must have connived! Li thought. The American Vice-President has agreed to this change in the mission plan, obviously. Brumado must have swayed her somehow. She is no longer seeking to destroy Waterman; somehow Brumado has made the two of them allies. The man is a miracle worker.
A traverse into Tithonium Chasma. We’ll have to tear up the final four weeks’ worth of the schedule and reorient everything for this. I’ll have to curtail Patel’s excursion to Pavonis Mons. The poor man will be apoplectic. He has spent half his life preparing to survey Pavonis Mons. That will have to be scratched now; we won’t have the time or the resources to devote to it.
Even the work here in orbit will have to be redirected to support the Tithonium excursion. O’Hara will be especially upset — he has not been very secretive about his hopes that the American politicians would send him down to the surface to replace Waterman.
No chance of that now. Somehow Waterman has become the true leader of the ground team. He has stolen the lightning from the gods. He is even overshadowing me now.
Yet Li kept on smiling placidly at the images of the three project directors on his screen.
A traverse to the floor of the Grand Canyon! His scientist’s mind was thrilled by the possibilities. Warmth and moisture. Perhaps life. Life! What a finding that would be. It would mark a new epoch in history.
Still the political side of his mind worried about the difficulties of changing the schedule, the dangers of moving so boldly into new territory, the risks that always haunted every step into the unknown.
Waterman, he thought. If it were not for him everything would be going smoothly and safely according to plan.
Li’s smile broadened slightly. How dull that would be! Besides, if anything goes wrong he will take the brunt of the blame, not me.
EARTH
NEW YORK: Edith sat tensely on the edge of the upholstered chair. Howard Francis’s apartment was much smaller than she had expected, little more than a studio. The so-called bedroom was nothing more than an ell in the one room, mirrored to make it seem larger. The kitchenette was an alcove with a sink, a microwave oven, and some cabinets.
The network vice-president was sprawled nonchalantly on the sofa, shoes off, tie gone, head lolling back, eyes half closed as he watched the big TV screen. The television set was the largest piece of furniture in the place.
Through the half-closed curtains of the apartment’s only window Edith could see the darkened windows of the network news building. She felt nervous not only because the tape playing on the TV could determine the future of her career; she worried that her boss had insisted on looking at the tape here in his apartment rather than across the street at his office.
She had dressed as plainly as possible: a bulky sweatshirt and baggy old slacks. He had greeted her at his apartment door shoeless, collar undone, and a glass of white wine already in his hand.
Jamie’s tape took less than ten minutes. When it ended the TV set automatically returned to the all-news channel.
Her boss muted the sound and turned his sleepy eyes toward her. Edith thought he looked like a drugged
'Not much, is it?' he said lazily.
She felt genuinely surprised. 'Not much? He’s told us more about that meteor hit than Kaliningrad and Houston did, put together. And he showed us what’s going on around their base. He’s told us about what they’ve discovered…'
'The official reports have given us most of that. And better footage, too.'
'Okay, but Jamie’s telling us that he wants to go back to the Grand Canyon. That’s not on the mission schedule. I checked.'
He pulled himself up into a more erect sitting position. 'Possible conflict with the mission controllers?'
'You bet!'
His eyes opened wider. 'Maverick scientist battling against the brass. Russian brass, too. Maybe there’s something there.'
Edith smiled. 'It’s more than anybody else’s got.'
'Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t want us to stick our necks out and get them chopped off. We need more than just this one guy’s word.'
'I can check with some of the people at Houston. And I can always get to Brumado…'
'I’ll bet you can,' he said, with a leering grin.
Edith jumped to her feet. 'I ought to get on this right away.'
'Tomorrow morning,' he said, reaching out a hand to pull her down onto the sofa.
She avoided it. 'Brumado’s in Washington now, but not for long. I better get down there right away.'
He frowned at her. 'There’s no planes this time of night, for Chrissake. Relax. Have some wine.'
'You’re paying me for making news,' Edith said, keeping her smile in place. 'Let me earn my living.'
'You can earn your living…'
But she was heading for the door. 'I’ll rent a car and phone you from Washington with an exclusive interview with Brumado. And maybe even the Vice-President!'
Edith was out the door before he could pull himself up from the sofa. It never fails, she thought. Men always
