cylinders with a pale, hairless hand.
"As you probably know, the Omnivores are able to operate in five different modes, depending on what is easily available." Cayuga beckoned Conner closer. "The fusion takes place right here, inside this section. We can burn hydrogen to form helium, with an internal temperature as low as ten million degrees. If hydrogen is not available, the Omnivores can fuse helium to make carbon, but that needs at least a hundred million degrees before it becomes efficient. In mode three, carbon will burn to oxygen, neon, and magnesium, starting at about six hundred million degrees. Then we have mode four, neon burning once we get above a billion. And finally, if necessary we can fuse oxygen to silicon and then to iron. But those reactions don't really cut in until the Omnivores reach an interior operating temperature of at least one and a half billion degrees."
One and a half billion. Conner stared at the bulbous cylinders of the Omnivores with a new mixture of horror and respect. That was scores of times hotter than the center of the Sun itself. No wonder they were banned for Belt use and could be turned into weapons.
And if one of these Omnivores went wrong, in its hottest mode? The crew of the Weland would never know it. They might as well be sitting in the middle of a supernova.
"Are they safe? " The question popped out before he could stop it, but Cayuga did not seem to mind. He was even smiling, in a distant sort of way.
"Safe compared to what, Mr. Preston? Residence aboard the Weland is far safer, in my opinion, than residence today either on Earth or Mars, or in the Belt."
"You really think there is going to be a war?"
"Don't you?"
It was the question of the hour. On the one hand, Conner argued that the economic bickering between Earth and the Belt had gone on for as long as he could remember, and that was a full twenty years. But there was no doubt that recent exchanges were more rancorous.
"I believe that Earth deserves to be taught a lesson." Conner was parroting standard Belt politics, and felt uncomfortable doing it. "But I don't see how that can happen. I mean, there are eleven billion of them, and only a hundred million of us. And anyway, Earth has the Armageddon defense line, and it's supposed to be impenetrable. They drain a ridiculous share of our resources to support their population bloat, but I don't think there can be a war."
"Many people disagree," Alicia Rios said. "The rate of immigration from Earth and Belt to the Jovian system has tripled in the past four years. I gather that you yourself are a recent arrival."
"I was sent here. It's part of my job."
True enough. But Conner knew that it was not the whole story. He might claim that the stint on Ganymede was cruel and unusual punishment; but here, far from the threats and the posturing of Earth, Mars, and Ceres, he certainly felt a lot more secure.
Jeffrey Cayuga was staring at him as though he could read Preston's thoughts. "As I said a moment ago, the Weland and Saturn exploration is safe compared to what? Nature is less of a threat than human actions. Our expedition team, cruising the moons of Saturn, will be subjected to less danger than your friends and relations on Ceres. I am not sure that even Ganymede and Callisto will be safe if a full-scale war breaks out."
"But you plan to come back here, when the expedition returns."
"That is not quite true." Cayuga nodded to Alicia Rios and Lenny Costas and they turned, leading the way from the engine room.
"We will return to Ganymede," he went on, "if it seems completely safe to do so. But I do not live here. I make my home on Lysithea, one of the minor satellites of Jupiter. It is almost twelve million kilometers out, and it is rather small—just thirty-five kilometers in diameter. But it offers privacy. And it is, above all, safe."
He stared at Conner Preston and spoke the final word with peculiar intensity. Safe. It made Conner feel physically uncomfortable.
"As you probably know, the Omnivores are able to operate in five different modes, depending on what is easily available." Cayuga beckoned Conner closer. "The fusion takes place right here, inside this section. We can burn hydrogen to form helium, with an internal temperature as low as ten million degrees. If hydrogen is not available, the Omnivores can fuse helium to make carbon, but that needs at least a hundred million degrees before it becomes efficient. In mode three, carbon will burn to oxygen, neon, and magnesium, starting at about six hundred million degrees. Then we have mode four, neon burning once we get above a billion. And finally, if necessary we can fuse oxygen to silicon and then to iron. But those reactions don't really cut in until the Omnivores reach an interior operating temperature of at least one and a half billion degrees."
One and a half billion. Conner stared at the bulbous cylinders of the Omnivores with a new mixture of horror and respect. That was scores of times hotter than the center of the Sun itself. No wonder they were banned for Belt use and could be turned into weapons.
And if one of these Omnivores went wrong, in its hottest mode? The crew of the Weland would never know it. They might as well be sitting in the middle of a supernova.
"Are they safe? " The question popped out before he could stop it, but Cayuga did not seem to mind. He was even smiling, in a distant sort of way.
"Safe compared to what, Mr. Preston? Residence aboard the Weland is far safer, in my opinion, than residence today either on Earth or Mars, or in the Belt."
"You really think there is going to be a war?"
"Don't you?"
It was the question of the hour. On the one hand, Conner argued that the economic bickering between Earth and the Belt had gone on for as long as he could remember, and that was a full twenty years. But there was no doubt that recent exchanges were more rancorous.
"I believe that Earth deserves to be taught a lesson." Conner was parroting standard Belt politics, and felt uncomfortable doing it. "But I don't see how that can happen. I mean, there are eleven billion of them, and only a hundred million of us. And anyway, Earth has the Armageddon defense line, and it's supposed to be impenetrable. They drain a ridiculous share of our resources to support their population bloat, but I don't think there can be a war."
"Many people disagree," Alicia Rios said. "The rate of immigration from Earth and Belt to the Jovian system has tripled in the past four years. I gather that you yourself are a recent arrival."
"I was sent here. It's part of my job."
True enough. But Conner knew that it was not the whole story. He might claim that the stint on Ganymede was cruel and unusual punishment; but here, far from the threats and the posturing of Earth, Mars, and Ceres, he certainly felt a lot more secure.
Jeffrey Cayuga was staring at him as though he could read Preston's thoughts. "As I said a moment ago, the Weland and Saturn exploration is safe compared to what? Nature is less of a threat than human actions. Our expedition team, cruising the moons of Saturn, will be subjected to less danger than your friends and relations on Ceres. I am not sure that even Ganymede and Callisto will be safe if a full-scale war breaks out."
"But you plan to come back here, when the expedition returns."
"That is not quite true." Cayuga nodded to Alicia Rios and Lenny Costas and they turned, leading the way from the engine room.
"We will return to Ganymede," he went on, "if it seems completely safe to do so. But I do not live here. I make my home on Lysithea, one of the minor satellites of Jupiter. It is almost twelve million kilometers out, and it is rather small—just thirty-five kilometers in diameter. But it offers privacy. And it is, above all, safe."
He stared at Conner Preston and spoke the final word with peculiar intensity. Safe. It made Conner feel physically uncomfortable.
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