Isaac Asimov (9 page)

Grant said, “No, I guess not. In fact, please go ahead. As long as I listen to you, I have no time to panic myself. It seems to me you’ve mentioned everyone.”

“Not at all. I have deliberately left the least suspicious character for last. In fact, we might say as a general rule that the seemingly least suspicious character is bound to be guilty. Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Obviously,” Grant said. “And this least suspicious character is who? Or is this the place where a shot rings out and you crumple to the floor just before you name the identity of the fiend?”

“No one seems to be aiming at me,” said Michaels. “I think I will have time. The least suspicious character is, obviously, you yourself, Grant. Who would be less suspicious than the trusted agent, assigned to see the ship safely through the mission? Can you really be trusted, Grant?”

“I’m not sure. You have only my word and what’s that worth?”

“Exactly. You have been on the Other Side, been there oftener and under more obscure circumstances than anyone else on this ship, I’m certain. Suppose that in one way or another, you have been bought off.”

“Possible, I suppose,” said Grant, unemotionally, “but I brought Benes here safely.”

“So you did; knowing, perhaps, that he would be taken care of at the next stage, leaving you in the clear and fit for further duties, as you are now.”

Grant said, “I think you mean this.”

But Michaels shook his head, “No, I don’t. And I’m sorry for I think I’m beginning to grow offensive.” He pinched his nose and said, “I wish they would begin miniaturizing. After that, I might have less time to think.”

Grant felt embarrassed. There was a naked look of apprehension on Michaels’ face as the skin of banter peeled off. He called up, “How about it, captain?”

“All set. All set,” came Owens’ metal-harsh voice.

The lights went on. At once, Duval pulled out several drawers at his side of the ship, and began to look over the charts. Cora inspected the laser with care.

Grant said, “May I come up there, Owens?”

“You can stick your head up here if you want to,” replied Owens. “There isn’t room for anything more.”

Grant said under his breath. “Take it easy, Dr. Michaels. I’ll be gone for a few minutes and you can jitter, if you feel like it, without being watched.”

Michaels’ voice was dry and his words seemed to grind out with difficulty. “You are a considerate man, Grant. If I had had my natural sleep …”

Grant rose and stepped back, grinning at Cora who stepped out of his way coolly. He then moved quickly up the ladder, looked up and about and said, “How will you know where to go?”

Owens said, “I’ve got Michaels’ charts here.” He flipped a switch and on one of the screens immediately before him
was a replica of the circulatory system, the one Grant had already seen several times before.

Owens touched another switch and parts of the chart glowed an iridescent yellow-orange.

“Our projected route,” he said. “Michaels will be directing me when necessary, and since we are nuclear fueled, Carter and the rest will be able to follow us with precision. They will help direct us, if you take care of your end with the wireless.”

“You’ve got a complicated set of controls here.”

“It’s pretty sophisticated,” said Owens, with obvious pride. “A button for everything, so to speak, and as compact as I could make it. This was going to be used for deep-sea work, you know.”

Grant swung down again and again Cora made way for him. She was deep in concentration over her laser, working with what were virtually watchmaker’s tools.

“That looks complicated,” said Grant.

Cora said briefly, “A ruby laser, if you know what that is.”

“I know it puts out a tight beam of coherent monochromatic light, but I haven’t the foggiest notion as to how it works.”

“Then I suggest you go back to your seat and let me do my job.”

“Yes, ma’am. But if you have any footballs you want strung, you let me know. Us physical types are good at that kind of unskilled work.”

Cora put down a small screwdriver, brushed her rubber-gloved fingers together and said, “Mr. Grant?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Are you going to make this entire venture hideous with your notion of fun?”

“No, I won’t, but … Well, how do I talk to you?”

“Like a fellow member of the crew.”

“You’re also a young woman.”

“I know that, Mr. Grant, but what concern is that of yours? It’s not necessary to assure me with every remark and gesture that you’re aware of my sex. It’s wearisome and unnecessary. After this is all over, if you still feel called upon to go through whatever rituals you are accustomed to performing before young women, I will deal with you in whatever fashion seems advisable but for now …”

“All right. It’s a date, for afterward.”

“And Mr. Grant?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be defensive about once having been a football player. I really don’t care.”

Grant swallowed and said, “Something tells me my rituals are going to be tromped on, but …”

She was paying no attention but had returned to the laser. Grant couldn’t help watching, his hand on the counter, following the minutest movement of her sure-fingered adjustments.

“Oh, if you could only frivol,” he breathed, and fortunately she didn’t hear him, or, at least, showed no signs of having done so.

Without warning, she placed her hand on his and Grant found himself starting slightly at the touch of her warm fingers.

She said, “Excuse me!” and moved his hand to one side, then released it. Almost at once she depressed a contact on the laser and a hair-thin streak of red light shot out, striking the metal disc over which his hand had just been resting. A tiny hole appeared at once and there was the thin odor of metal vapor. Had Grant’s hand remained in place, the thin hole would have been in his thumb.

Grant said, “You might have warned me.”

Cora said, “There is no reason for you to be standing here, is there?”

She lifted the laser, ignoring his offered help and turned toward the storeroom.

“Yes, miss,” said Grant, humbly. “When near you henceforward I shall be careful where I place my hand.”

Cora looked back as though startled and rather uncertain. Then, for a moment, she smiled.

Grant said, “Careful. The cheeks may crack.”

Her smile vanished at once. “You promised,” she said, icily, and moved into the workroom.

The voice of Owens came from above. “Grant! Check the wireless!”

“Right,” called Grant. “I’ll be seeing you, Cora. Afterward!”

He slipped back into his seat and looked at the wireless for the first time. “This seems to be a Morse code device.”

Michaels looked up. Some of the grayness had left his face. “Yes, it’s technically difficult to transmit voice across the miniaturization gap. I assume you can handle code.”

“Of course.” He beat out a rapid message. After a pause, the public address system in the miniaturization room boomed out with a sound level easily heard within the
Proteus:

“Message received. Wish to confirm. Message reads: MISS PETERSON SMILED.”

Cora, just returning to her seat, looked outraged and said, “Good grief.”

Grant bent over the wireless and tapped out: CORRECT!

The return this time was in code. Grant listened, then called out, “Message received from outside: PREPARE FOR MINIATURIZATION.”

Grant, not knowing how to prepare, sat where he was. Michaels rose with an almost convulsive suddenness, looking about as though making a last-minute check of all facilities.

Duval, having put his charts aside, began to fumble at his harness.

“May I help, doctor?” asked Cora.

He looked up, “Eh? Oh, no. It’s just a matter of getting this buckle straight. Here we are.”

“Doctor …”

“Yes?” He looked up again and was suddenly all concern over her apparent difficulty in expressing herself. “Is anything wrong with the laser, Miss Peterson?”

“Oh, no. It’s just that I’m sorry I was the cause of unpleasantness between yourself and Dr. Reid.”

“That was nothing. Don’t think of it.”

“And thank you for arranging to have me come.”

Duval said, seriously, “It is quite necessary for me to have you. I couldn’t rely on anyone else as I do on you.”

Cora moved to Grant who, having turned to watch Duval, was now fiddling with his own harness.

“Do you know how to work that?” she asked.

“It seems more complicated than the ordinary aircraft seat belt.”

“Yes, it is. Here, you’ve got this hooked incorrectly. Allow me.” She leaned across him and Grant found himself staring at one cheek at close quarters and catching the understated delicacy of light scent. He restrained himself.

Cora said in a low voice. “I’m sorry if I’ve been hard on you, but my position is a difficult one.”

“I find it delightful at the moment … No, forgive me. That slipped out.”

She said, “I have a position at the CMDF quite analogous to that of a number of men but I find myself blocked at every step by the completely extraneous fact of my sex. Either I receive too much consideration or too much
condescension and I want neither. Not at work, at any rate. It leaves me a bundle of frustration.”

Grant thought the obvious answer but didn’t say it. —It was going to be a strain if he were going to continually refrain from the obvious; more, perhaps, than he would be able to bear.

He said, “Whatever your sex, and at this point I’ll be careful not to commit myself, you’re the calmest person here except for Duval, and I don’t think he knows he’s here.”

“Don’t underestimate him, Mr. Grant. He knows he’s here, I assure you. If he’s calm, it’s because he realizes that the importance of this mission is greater than that of his individual life.”

“Because of Benes’ secret?”

“No. Because this will be the first time miniaturization has been used on this scale; and that it is being used for the purpose of saving life.”

Grant said, “Will it be safe to use that laser? After what it nearly did to my finger?”

“In Dr. Duval’s hands that laser beam will destroy the clot without disturbing one molecule of the surrounding tissue.”

“You have a high estimate of his ability.”

“It is the world’s estimate. And I share it with reason. I have been with him ever since I got my master’s degree.”

“I suspect he shows you neither too much condescension nor too much consideration merely because you are a woman.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

She returned to her seat and slipped on her own harness in one fluid motion.

Owens called. “Dr. Michaels, we’re waiting.”

Michaels, having stepped from his seat and moved slowly about the cabin seemed, for the moment, abstracted and uncertain. Then, looking quickly from one strapped person to another said, “Oh, yes,” sat down and adjusted his own harness.

Owens swung down from his bubble, checked each harness quickly, mounted again and put on his own. “Okay, Mr. Grant. Tell them we’re ready.”

Grant did so and the loudspeaker sounded almost at once:

“ATTENTION,
PROTEUS
. ATTENTION,
PROTEUS
. THIS IS THE LAST VOICE MESSAGE YOU WILL RECEIVE UNTIL
MISSION IS COMPLETED. YOU HAVE SIXTY MINUTES OBJECTIVE TIME. ONCE MINIATURIZATION IS COMPLETE, THE SHIP’S TIME-RECORDER WILL GIVE THE SIXTY READING. YOU ARE AT ALL TIMES TO BE AWARE OF THAT READING, WHICH WILL BE REDUCED ONE UNIT AT A TIME, EACH MINUTE. DO NOT—REPEAT, DO NOT—TRUST YOUR SUBJECTIVE FEELINGS AS TO TIME PASSAGE. YOU MUST BE OUT OF BENES’ BODY BEFORE THE READING REACHES ZERO. IF YOU ARE NOT, YOU WILL KILL BENES REGARDLESS OF THE SUCCESS OF THE SURGERY. GOOD LUCK!”

The voice stopped and Grant could find nothing more original with which to encourage his sinking spirits than, “This is it!”

To his own surprise, he found he had said it aloud.

Michaels, next to him, said, “Yes, it is,” and managed a weak smile.

In the observation tower, Carter waited. He caught himself wishing he were in the
Proteus
, rather than outside it. It would be a difficult hour and it would be easier to be in a position where he would know each moment the events of that moment.

He quivered at the sudden sharp tapping of the wireless message over an open circuit. The aide at the receiving end spoke quietly: “
Proteus
reports all secured.”

Carter called out, “Miniaturizer!”

The proper switch, labelled MIN, at the proper panel was touched by the proper finger of the proper technician. It’s like a ballet, thought Carter, with everyone in place and every motion prescribed, in a dance the end of which none could see.

The touch upon the switch was reflected in the fading to one side of the wall at the end of the miniaturizing room and the revelation, bit by bit, of a huge, honeycombed disc, suspended from a rail running along the ceiling. It moved toward and over the
Proteus
, making its way silently and without friction on air-jets that kept its suspension arm a tenth of an inch above the railing.