Cities in Flight

“And let me ask you this, Paige: should we give the USSR the advantage—temporary though it’ll be—of having to get along without the anti-agathics for a while? By their very nature, the drugs will do more damage to the West than they will to the USSR. After all, in the Soviet Union one isn’t permitted to inherit money, or to exercise any real control over economic forces just because one’s lived a long time. If both major powers are given control over death at the same time, the West will be at a natural disadvantage. If we give control over death to the West alone, we’ll be sabotaging our own civilization without putting the USSR under any comparable handicap. Is that sensible?”

The picture was staggering, to say the least. It gave Paige an impression of Gunn decidedly at variance with the mask of salesman-turned-executive which the man himself wore. But it was otherwise self-consistent; that, he knew, was supposed to be enough for him.

“How could I tell?” he said coldly. “All I can see is that every day I stick with you, I get in deeper. First I pose for the FBI as something that I’m not. Next I’m given possession of information that it’s unlawful for me to have. And now I’m helping you conceal the evidence of a high crime. It looks more and more to me as though I was supposed to be involved in this thing from the beginning. I don’t see how you could have done so thorough a job on me without planning it.”

“You needn’t deny that you asked for it, Paige.”

“I don’t deny that,” he said. “You don’t deny deliberately involving me, either, I notice.”

“No. It was deliberate, all right. I thought you’d have suspected it before. And if you’re planning to ask me why, save your breath. I’m not permitted to tell you. You’ll find out in due course.”

“You two—”

“No. Hal had nothing to do with involving you. That was my idea. He only agreed to it—and he had to be convinced from considerably higher up.”

“You two,” Paige said through almost motionless lips, “don’t hesitate to trample on the bystanders, do you? If I didn’t know before that Pfitzner was run by a pack of idealists, I’d know it now. You’ve got the characteristic ruthlessness.”

“That,” Anne said in a level voice, “is what it takes.”

CHAPTER EIGHT: Jupiter V

When new turns in behaviour cease to appear in the life of the individual its behaviour ceases to be intelligent.

—C. E. COGHILL

INSTEAD OF sleeping after his trick—for now Helmuth knew that he was really afraid—he sat up in the reading chair in his cabin. The illuminated microfilmed pages of a book flicked by across the surface of the wall opposite him, timed precisely to the reading rate most comfortable for him, and he had several weeks’ worry-conserved alcohol and smoke rations for ready consumption.

But Helmuth let his mix go flat and did not notice the book, which had turned itself on, at the page where he had abandoned it last, when he had fitted himself into the chair. Instead, he listened to the radio.

There was always a great deal of ham radio activity in the Jovian system. The conditions were good for it, since there was plenty of power available, few impeding atmosphere layers and those thin, no Heaviside layers, and few official and no commercial channels with which the hams could interfere.

And there were plenty of people scattered about the satellites who needed the sound of a voice.

“… anybody know whether or not the senators are coming here? Doc Barth put in a report a while back on a fossil plant he found here, at least he thinks it was a plant. Maybe they’d like a look at it.”

“It’s the Bridge team they’re coming to see.” A strong voice, and the impression of a strong transmitter wavering in and out to the currents of an atmosphere; that would be Sweeney, on Ganymede. “Sorry to throw the wet blanket, boys, but I don’t think the senators’ll be interested in our rock-balls for their own lumpy selves. They’re only scheduled to stay here three days.”

Helmuth thought grayly: Then they’ll stay on Callisto only one.

“Is that you, Sweeney? Where’s the Bridge tonight?”

“Dillon’s on duty,” a very distant transmitter said. “Try to raise Helmuth, Sweeney.”

“Helmuth, Helmuth, you gloomy beetle-gooser! Come in, Helmuth!”

“Sure, Bob, come in and dampen us a little. We’re feeling cheerful.”

Sluggishly, Helmuth reached out to take the mike, from where it lay clipped to one arm of the chair. But before he had completed the gesture, the door to his room swung open.

Eva came in.

She said: “Bob, I want to tell you something.”

“His voice is changing!” the voice of the Callisto operator said. “Sweeney, ask him what he’s drinking!”