Question of Comfort | Page 6

heat momentarily--Mercury and Venus were kept at a constant 140 F, the others at 0 F--but it was a deliberate thrill. Then cool air from the cart suit-connections began circulating.
Bonestell was magnificent, as always. Yellow landscape, spatter cones, glittering streaks that might be metal in the volcanic ground--created by dusting ground mica on wet glue to catch the reflection of the sun. It was a masterpiece.
The sun. Black sky holding a giant, blazing ball. Too damned yellow, but filtered carbon arcs were the best we could do.
Down, into the tunnel that was lock two. This next one ... Venus, obvious opposition point of attack, where we'd had the most trouble: Venus had to be right.
It was! A blast of wind struck us, and dust, swirling everywhere. We'd discovered there's no such thing as a sand storm--it's really dust--so we'd taken pains making things look right. Sand dunes were carefully cemented in place; dust rippling over gave the proper illusion.
Oddly shaped rocks, dimly seen, strengthened the impression of wind-abraded topography. Rocks were reddish, overlain by smears of bright yellow. Lot of trouble placing all that flowers of sulfur, but we postulated a liquid sulfur-sulfur dioxide-carbon dioxide cycle.
Overhead, a diffused, intense yellow light. The sun--we were on the daylight side.
I sighed, relaxed, knowing this one had worked out.
We gave the moon little time. For those who had become homesick, Earth was hanging magnificently in the sky. At a crater wall, we stopped, ostensibly to let souvenir hunters pick at small pieces of lunar rock without leaving the cart.
We'd argued hours on what type to use, till Mel dragged out his rock book. Most, automatically, had wanted basalt. However, the moon's density being low, heavier rocks are probably scarce--one good reason not to expect radioactive ores there. We finally settled for rhyolite and obsidian.
Stopping on the moon had another purpose. We kept the room temperature at 70 F, for heating and cooling economy; the transition from Venus to Mars was much simpler if ambient temperature dropped from 140 to 70 and from 70 to 0, rather than straight through the range.
* * * * *
Next, a Martian polar cap, and we looked down a long canal that disappeared on the horizon. Water appeared to run uphill for that effect. The whole scene looked like an Arizona highway at dusk--what it should have. To our right, a suggestion of--damn the opposition's eyes--culture: a large stone whatzit. It was a jarring note.
We selected one of those nondescript asteroids with just enough diameter to show extreme curvature. Frank had done magnificently. I found myself hanging onto the cart. Headlights deliberately dimmed, on the rocky surface, the cart bumped wildly. The sky was black, broken only by little, hard chunks of light. No horizon. The feeling of being ready to drop was intense, possibly too much so.
Europa, then, in a valley of ice. We'd picked Jupiter's third moon because its frozen atmosphere permitted some eerie pseudo-ice sculpturing. As we moved, Jupiter appeared between breaks and peaks in the sheer wall. Worked nicely, seeing the monstrous planet distended overhead, like a gaily colored beach ball moving with us, as the moon from a train window. Unfortunately, the ice forms detracted somewhat.
Mimas, pitch black, then a glow. Stark landscape quickly becoming visible. Steep cliffs, rocky plain. Saturn rising. The rings, their shadow on the globe, the beauty of it, made me sit stunned, though I knew what to expect.
The guide warned us radar spotted an approaching object, probably a meteor. We ran, the cart at maximum speed--not much, really. It tore at you, wanting to stare at Saturn, wanting to duck.
Hit the special section, dropped and rose our three inches--one hell of a distance--and the tour was over. I kept thinking, insanely, that the meteor was a perfect conflict touch.
We unsuited silently. Finally, Hazel breathed, "Hallelujah!" It was summation of success. There now remained but one thing: wait for the quarry to show.
I estimated the necessary time at four days and nights after opening. It was hard to wait, hard not to fidget under the watchful--the only word--eyes of the GG. They were up to something, undoubtedly. But there was something far more important: I'd narrowed the 2,499,999,999 down to five.
The one I sought was a member of the GG.
* * * * *
Opening night brought Harry and Frank to my office. They tried to be casual, engaged me in desultory nothings. Frank looked reproachful--I was there too late.
The following night, Mel ambled in at midnight. He grinned, discussed a plot, suggested we go out for a beer, changed his mind, left.
The third night, I waited in the dark. Nor was I disappointed: Dex and Hazel showed.
"What do you want? It's 2 A.M.!"
There was a long regrouping pause; then Hazel said, "Dex has a fine idea."
"Well?"
"I've been thinking about