Dr. Bloom looked less than thrilled by that vision of universal rot and corruption, a phenomenon unique to Earth, Other worlds, her expression suggested, kept their decay and recycling well away from civilized life; but she nodded and Jan went on, “So with all that methane from decomposition, plus naturally upwelling primordial methane, the seabed contains enormous amounts of it. And of course there’s loads of water. So we have these enormous clathrate beds, hundreds of kilometers across and tens of meters deep. All we do — all that does” — she pointed to the extractor — “is run the spine down to the clathrate beds and warm them up a bit. The methane is released in the higher temperatures, and rises to the surface, and flows away through the pipeline.”
Their interviewer was pleased. For the first time she was smiling. Dr. Bloom said, “So you’re miners. Yes, I guess that you are.”
“And you know,” Jan went on, “now that I think of it, I bet the same method would work for the Europan ocean. There’s life, there’s decomposition, there’s plenty of water.”
That was less of a success. The smile became a fixed and very starchy frown. “I thought that it was well- known, even in the Inner System” — her tone implied, the primitive Inner System — “that Europa is off-limits. Native life was discovered there five years ago. We do not care to have the only other known life form in the Universe contaminated for minor industrial gain.”
Sebastian opened his mouth. He was going to choose this worst moment to argue with the interviewer, Janeed felt sure of it. That would cancel out any good impression they had made. She could think of no way to cut him off, until like a gift from Heaven she felt two heavy raindrops strike her on the left cheek and square on the nose.
“Here it comes,” she said, “just the way Sebastian said it would. Let’s get below, before we’re all soaked.”
And maybe on the way I’ll have a chance to get you to one side, you moon-faced lump, and say that talking about the wrong things is worse than not talking at all.
The best-laid plans…
Dr. Valnia Bloom stuck to Sebastian, tight as a vacuum seal, all the way below until the three of them were packed into the tiny room that served as the junior crew hideaway.
Apparently the interviewer had reached a new point on her agenda, because she listened in silence to an internal prompt, opened a file, and pushed it forward.
“These yours?”
“Yes.” Janeed recognized her own test answers, to both the standardized question set and the free-form invitation to pick a subject and work it through. She had taken a chance, reviewing the growth of the economy of the Jovian moons since first colonization, then using that to make projections on Saturn and Uranus system development.
She expected at least a comment, but Dr. Bloom merely grunted, picked up a second file, and laid it in front of Sebastian.
“And this is yours?”
He peered, as though he had never seen the file in his life, then nodded. “Yep. That’s mine.”
Sebastian nodded. Janeed winced, she hoped invisibly. It was the standard question set, and a quick glance was enough to show that at least half had been left blank.
“How about these?”
This time it was half a dozen sheets. They showed not writing or numbers but drawings, black-and-white sketches with the unfinished look of something done at high speed. They were — Janeed ought to have guessed it — cloud formations, whorls and bars and herringbone patterns, mixed together with no apparent logic.
Sebastian took his time, stared, and at last said, “Yep. Didn’t have time to finish this one.” He pointed at a swirl like the image of a moving hurricane, spinning off smaller whorls from its trailing edge.
“They resemble storms on the face of the planet Saturn. Did you base what you drew on something you had seen?”
“Yep. There’s a regular vid feed, images from Mars and Jupiter and Saturn. I watch them. Uranus, too, though there’s nothing to see there.”
“You mean no cloud patterns.”
“Smooth as a billiard ball.”
“But you didn’t just copy these from the latest video feed.”
Sebastian frowned. “No. Didn’t copy them.”
“So where did you get them? I assume that you took the tests under controlled conditions.”
“We did.” Jan was not being spoken to, but she couldn’t keep quiet. “No one could come or go, no one could look at what anybody else was doing.”
Valnia Bloom ignored her. “Where did you get these drawings, Mr. Birch?”
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Well, I seen Saturn pictures on the vid feed. And these ones, I like dreamed, the way you do when drawing goes good.”
If Janeed’s wince had been invisible before, she was sure it wasn’t now. Fortunately, Dr. Valnia Bloom seemed to be taking no interest at all in what Janeed did — until she raised her head and speared both Sebastian and Janeed with a single glance.
“Your application was a rather unusual one. You are both over thirty, much older than our norm. Also, you asked to be considered as a team, but not singly.”
Jan nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And that is still your position?”
Jan nodded again and glared at Sebastian, who said, “Yep.”
“Very well. So be it.” Dr. Bloom collected the files and stood up. “That will be all.”
“Thank you.” The words stuck in Janeed’s throat, and she had to swallow and start over. “Thank you for letting us try. Will we be allowed to try again?”
“I think not.” Maybe Dr. Valnia Bloom was a sadist, or maybe she had been trained not to show feelings, because she had an odd little smile on her face. “There will be no second try.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“However, as I understand it, you are both required to give two weeks notice for service with General Minerals. I suggest that you do so immediately. Two and a half weeks from now there will be places reserved for you on a passenger shuttle. Once in a micro-gravity environment you will undergo complete physical examinations, after which a high-acceleration transit vessel will take you to Ganymede. Formal indoctrination will begin there.”
She was heading up the steep ladder that led back to the main platform. Halfway up, she ducked her head and turned to where Janeed and Sebastian sat stunned at the little table.
“I should mention one other thing of interest. You took the test three weeks ago. Correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Those sketches that Sebastian made at that time. They closely resemble actual storms on Saturn. But you did not copy them.”
“No, sir.” Sebastian spoke firmly for the first time. “I mean, no, ma’am. I said already, I didn’t copy them.”
“My last remark was not a question but a statement. I know that you did not copy images forwarded to Earth, for the best of all possible reasons.” Valnia Bloom was at the top of the stairs when she added, “You could not have. The storm system that you drew did not appear on the face of Saturn until ten days ago.”
4
THE BAT CAVE, PANDORA, YEAR 2097, SEINE-DAY MINUS ONE
At about the time when Dr. Valnia Bloom spread before Sebastian Birch his sketches of Saturnian clouds and asked about their origins, Rustum Battachariya was in a position to take a look at the real thing. All he had to do was walk twenty paces to the end of the Bat Cave. Then he could ride an ascending elevator to an observation
