patch?”
Goodall was silent for some seconds, and finally answered in a rather embarrassed and surprised tone, “I can’t tell. Roots went out in all directions, of course, and I can tell what materials have been coming in through each major one, but we never thought of wanting to know which absolute direction any one root was taking.”
There must have been a spectrum of reactions to this announcement. However, neither laughter nor anger nor surprise was audible. The jet ejected several more cans before its pilot could think of another useful question.
“The root which went east, toward the cliff, would be picking up more water sooner or—well, sooner. The factory couldn’t have started production without oxygen. Does any one of them show a richer water take than the others?”
“Yes, though not impressively greater. Number Twelve.”
“Then it’s a reasonable guess that that one went toward the mountain, which seems to be a block of ice. Whichever is ninety degrees counterclockwise from Twelve must be pretty close to under the new patch, right?”
“Wrong. Unfortunately—”
“Unfortunately? You mean you don’t know the relative directions either?”
“No. I don’t know whether the numbers go clockwise or otherwise, or even if they are in sequence. I labeled them as they started to pick up raw material. Sorry. Even if we’d wanted to, there was no other way to identify them.”
“So there goes any chance of analyzing that patch with the factory instruments.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“So I go back and plant more labs around the factory.”
“You drop the rest of Line Five first,” Maria cut in. “It won’t make much difference in time. You’ll be a couple of hours getting back, and it’s where you’d be going anyway for more cans. There’s no reason to suppose there’s any hurry; we don’t know what causes these patches even though you’ve found out they’re a bit gooey—”
“That one is a bit gooey,” muttered Corporal Pete Martucci, who was more regulation-minded than most.
“—and we can learn more sooner by watching this one grow if it does. There’s no need for speed.”
“There could be if the factory itself has anything to do with the appearance of this new one,” Goodall pointed out. Belvew started to say something, but Maria was first.
“We should worry about that if and when it seems in order, I think. I’ll watch how fast, and which way if any special one, this thing grows. If it does. Art—no, you’re too busy; you, Ludmilla—keep on top of the factory’s behavior; that’s the only other thing I can think of which might warn us of any such connection. Any other ideas?”
“Five cans to go,” Belvew answered, with no obvious relevance. “What’s that return heading again?”
Maria told him, and he finished his run in silence. He then climbed to compromise height—air thin enough for low resistance while still dense enough to feed the ramjets—eased in full thrust, took up the great circle heading back to the factory, set Oceanus on automatic control, presumably somewhat safer than letting Status handle it through the communication links, and shifted his screen to the instruments being used by Art, Maria, and the others. There should be no intense verticals at this height, and he refused to worry over unknowns, especially when Barn was also watching.
As far as general crew attitude went, scientific-military procedure was of course an important and sometimes even a life-and-death matter, but freedom to pay attention to a problem was more so. The rank distinction between commissioned theoreticians, mere observers, and essentially civilian technicians—even the doctor attached little weight to his technical rank of lieutenant colonel—meant nothing in that respect. The smooth patches might not be a military or any other kind of risk, but they now involved a basic situation change near the only equipment source currently on Titan—one which would
Goodall was silent for some seconds, and finally answered in a rather embarrassed and surprised tone, “I can’t tell. Roots went out in all directions, of course, and I can tell what materials have been coming in through each major one, but we never thought of wanting to know which absolute direction any one root was taking.”
There must have been a spectrum of reactions to this announcement. However, neither laughter nor anger nor surprise was audible. The jet ejected several more cans before its pilot could think of another useful question.
“The root which went east, toward the cliff, would be picking up more water sooner or—well, sooner. The factory couldn’t have started production without oxygen. Does any one of them show a richer water take than the others?”
“Yes, though not impressively greater. Number Twelve.”
“Then it’s a reasonable guess that that one went toward the mountain, which seems to be a block of ice. Whichever is ninety degrees counterclockwise from Twelve must be pretty close to under the new patch, right?”
“Wrong. Unfortunately—”
“Unfortunately? You mean you don’t know the relative directions either?”
“No. I don’t know whether the numbers go clockwise or otherwise, or even if they are in sequence. I labeled them as they started to pick up raw material. Sorry. Even if we’d wanted to, there was no other way to identify them.”
“So there goes any chance of analyzing that patch with the factory instruments.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“So I go back and plant more labs around the factory.”
“You drop the rest of Line Five first,” Maria cut in. “It won’t make much difference in time. You’ll be a couple of hours getting back, and it’s where you’d be going anyway for more cans. There’s no reason to suppose there’s any hurry; we don’t know what causes these patches even though you’ve found out they’re a bit gooey—”
“That one is a bit gooey,” muttered Corporal Pete Martucci, who was more regulation-minded than most.
“—and we can learn more sooner by watching this one grow if it does. There’s no need for speed.”
“There could be if the factory itself has anything to do with the appearance of this new one,” Goodall pointed out. Belvew started to say something, but Maria was first.
“We should worry about that if and when it seems in order, I think. I’ll watch how fast, and which way if any special one, this thing grows. If it does. Art—no, you’re too busy; you, Ludmilla—keep on top of the factory’s behavior; that’s the only other thing I can think of which might warn us of any such connection. Any other ideas?”
“Five cans to go,” Belvew answered, with no obvious relevance. “What’s that return heading again?”
Maria told him, and he finished his run in silence. He then climbed to compromise height—air thin enough for low resistance while still dense enough to feed the ramjets—eased in full thrust, took up the great circle heading back to the factory, set Oceanus on automatic control, presumably somewhat safer than letting Status handle it through the communication links, and shifted his screen to the instruments being used by Art, Maria, and the others. There should be no intense verticals at this height, and he refused to worry over unknowns, especially when Barn was also watching.
As far as general crew attitude went, scientific-military procedure was of course an important and sometimes even a life-and-death matter, but freedom to pay attention to a problem was more so. The rank distinction between commissioned theoreticians, mere observers, and essentially civilian technicians—even the doctor attached little weight to his technical rank of lieutenant colonel—meant nothing in that respect. The smooth patches might not be a military or any other kind of risk, but they now involved a basic situation change near the only equipment source currently on Titan—one which would
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