For nearly six weeks Brad worked virtually alone—with Emcee—in building up a detailed picture of the conditions on Gamma’s surface.
Larry Untermeyer reveled in his task of keeping Brad free from meetings and reports and the thousand-and-one demands on his time and energy that the members of his team unconsciously and automatically imposed on him. Larry used Brad’s office more than Brad did; he made it his own, really, even down to removing Brad’s desk and bringing in one that was bigger, more imposing.
Brad had his modest desk toted to his quarters, where the robots wedged it into a corner of the sitting room. Then he spent his days happily working with Emcee, while Larry handled the administrative chores.
One evening, as they were finishing dinner, Felicia told him, “People are saying that Larry is running your team, not you.”
Brad looked across the narrow kitchen table and saw that she was serious.
“He’s welcome to it,” he said.
“Aren’t you afraid he’s going to replace you?” she asked. “What if he tells Kosoff that he’s the de facto head of the team, and he wants to be recognized formally. That will leave you out in the cold. What’ll you do then?”
Brad got to his feet and started clearing the table. “I’ll have more time to spend with Emcee.”
“More time?” she half complained. “You already spend more time with the master computer than you do with me.”
Carefully placing the dishes in the washer, Brad turned back to Felicia, took her in his arms, and kissed her soundly.
“But it’s quality time,” he said to her.
Felicia smiled and nodded.
* * *
More and more, Brad found himself intrigued by the upcoming close encounter between planets Beta and Gamma.
As he sat staring at the latest projections by the astronomers, Brad said, “They’re actually going to pass so close to each other that they’ll share atmospheres.”
“Briefly,” said Emcee’s disembodied voice. “For seventeen hours and eleven minutes.”
“But that should cause terrific weather conditions,” Brad said. “All sorts of storms, awesome winds.”
“As well as tremendous tides in the planet’s seas.”
“Maybe that’s why all the villages are built well away from the seacoasts.”
“Perhaps,” said Emcee.
“I wonder how the close approach will affect Beta.”
Emcee said, “The surveillance satellites orbiting Beta are reporting unusual movements across the planet’s surface.”
“Unusual movements?”
Brad switched the holographic display to a broad view of Beta’s surface: uneven rocky ground, thinly covered with grayish scrub and spots of lichen. Brad could not see anything moving.
“Seismic activity?”
“No,” answered Emcee. “It’s more like the movements of small animals.”
“Animals?” Brad gulped. “There’s no record of animal life on Beta. Nothing big enough to register on the satellites’ sensors, at least.”
“The surveillance cameras are set on wide-field focus,” Emcee said, “not fine enough to resolve anything smaller than a meter.”
“We should get narrower focus, then. Sharper details.”
“Changing resolution,” Emcee reported.
After several minutes the view of Beta’s surface shifted, zooming in on a scene of broken rock, like rubble, with scabrous patches of sickly looking lichen here and there. No trees, no grass, no furry little animals scurrying along.
Then something moved.
Brad stared. Whatever it was disappeared in the flick of an eye.
“Could it be an animal?”
“Insufficient data to determine,” said Emcee.
“Slow the imagery, please.”
In slow motion, Brad saw that it was indeed an animal scurrying across the nearly barren ground: a small, furry, rodentlike animal.
“Animal life on Beta!” Brad exclaimed. “Do the Predecessors’ observations include anything like this?”
“No. Nothing. But their survey of the Mithra system took place at a time when Beta was near the apogee point of its orbit, deep in its long winter. They concentrated their observations on Gamma, with its villages and obviously intelligent inhabitants. Beta appeared to be lifeless, so it only received a cursory scan.”
Brad sagged back in his desk chair. “Have we discovered a new life form?”
Emcee’s image took shape again in the three-dimensional display. It was smiling, almost contentedly. “Perhaps,” the computer said.
“A life form that the Predecessors missed,” Brad marveled.
Again Emcee said merely, “Perhaps.”
* * *
“Send more surveillance satellites to Beta?” Kosoff looked surprised, upset. “Based on one flick of an image?”
“It’s animal life,” Brad said.
Sitting behind his impressive desk, Kosoff stared at Brad, silently mulling over this new demand.
At last he said, “The Predecessors’ data show no animal life on Beta.”
“None that they detected.”
“If they didn’t detect any, then there’s probably none there to detect.”
Feeling that Kosoff was being obtuse, Brad tried to explain. “The Predecessors saw that there was intelligent life on Gamma.”
“That’s obvious.”
“So they concentrated their attention on Gamma. Their intent was to rescue intelligent species from the approaching death wave.”
Kosoff nodded.
“They made some quick observations of Beta, found nothing, and focused their attention on Gamma.”
“Because there was nothing on Beta to detect,” Kosoff said flatly.
“But what if they were wrong?”
“Wrong? The Predecessors wrong? A race of intelligent machines, millions of years older than humankind? A race that explored most of the galaxy eons before the first paramecium evolved on Earth?”
“They could be wrong,” Brad insisted. “They’re not perfect.”
“Nonsense.”
“Then where are they now? How come they asked for our help? Why do they need us if they’re so wise and powerful?”
Kosoff glared at Brad for several long moments. Finally he muttered, “All right. You call a meeting of your team. Let’s see what they think.”
Brad groaned audibly.
* * *
“Everybody’s here,” said Larry Untermeyer, sitting at Brad’s right.
The conference table was filled. Twelve men and women, representing the twelve specialist departments of the ship’s scientific staff, everything from astronomy to zoology.
Brad sat discontentedly at the head of the table, Kosoff halfway down its left side. Next to Felicia, Brad saw unhappily. All eyes were on Kosoff, as usual. Along the wall at the end of the table was the holotank, with Emcee’s three-dimensional image sitting patiently, its hands folded on its lap.
“All right,” Brad said. “The satellites orbiting Beta have shown evidence of animal life there that we’ve never seen before.”
“Is that confirmed?” asked the planetologist.
Untermeyer replied, “Three observations in the past two days. They seem to be little furry critters.”
“Like field mice,” Felicia volunteered.
“There’s been no observation of animal life on Beta before this,” the planetologist said.
Untermeyer looked down the table and asked, “Emcee, has there been?”
“None,” said the master computer’s avatar.
“Could these observations be mistaken? Some sort of glitch in the satellite sensors?”
“Unlikely,” said Emcee, “to within a ninety-three percent probability.”
“Animal life,” muttered Tifa Valente, the geophysicist.
“Not intelligent,” Untermeyer pointed out.
Despite his displeasure at having to sit through this meeting, Brad said, “Beta is warming up rapidly as it approaches its perihelion. Maybe the local animal life hibernates until the climate becomes warm enough for them to become active.”
Kosoff asked, “How long is its year, its orbit around Mithra?”
“Forty-two Earth years,” answered the astronomer. “It’s a very elongated orbit.”
“So is Gamma’s,” said the planetologist.
“It’s hard to envision life forms hibernating for almost half a century,” said Kosoff.
“Not so,” Felicia replied. “Tardigrades—water bears, they’re called—can go without any food or water for years. And—”
“How many years?” Kosoff challenged.
“Ten or more.”
“That’s hardly half a century. And how big are these bears?”
“Not much more than microscopic,” Felicia admitted, her voice fading.
Brad jumped in. “Felicia’s point is that species on Earth can hibernate for long periods. Why can’t species on Beta go even longer?”
Shaking his head, Kosoff said, “With the limited resources at our command, I don’t think we should go chasing after will-o’-the-wisps. Concentrate on the problem at hand: the intelligent humanoids of Gamma.”
“Is that an order?” Brad demanded.
Kosoff started to snap out a reply, caught himself, and forced a smile instead. “Let’s say it’s a suggestion. I’m not a dictator—although I believe you should consider the limited resources we have. We know the humanoids of Gamma need our help. If there are living creatures on Beta, there’s absolutely no evidence that they’re intelligent.”
“No evidence yet,” Brad said almost angrily. “We have to investigate further, study the conditions on Beta.”
“Our primary objective is to save the humanoids on Gamma,” Kosoff said flatly.
“And what about the octopods on Alpha?” the linguist asked. “They’re intelligent too.”
“Not really,” said the astronomer.
“They are!”
“It’s not the same order of intelligence.”
“They’re a different order of creature,” Felicia pointed out. “How can you expect the same order of intelligence?”
“And their ocean is boiling away,” the linguist said, with some fervor.
The astronomer countered, “Slowly.”
“Slowly,” the linguist admitted. “But soon enough the octopods will be in danger of extermination.”
Brad sank back in his chair and stared down the length of the table at Emcee’s placid image while his team wrangled endlessly. Then he noticed that Kosoff was smiling grimly. He’s enjoying this, Brad thought. He’s very neatly sidetracked my attempt to study Beta more closely.