Asimov, Isaac - Lucky Starr 03 - Lucky Starr and the Oceans of Venus

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THE OCEANS OF VENUS

Other books in the Lucky Starr series by Isaac Asimov:

space ranger: 1

pirates of the asteroids: 2

the big sun of mercury: 3

Also available from NEL by this author:

THROUGH A GLASS CLEARLY

The Oceans of Venus

Isaac Asimov

NEW ENGLISH LIBRARY

timbs mirror First published in the USA by Doubleday & Co. Inc., 1954

Published in Great Britain by New English Library Ltd., 1973

HRST MEL PAPERBACK EDITION AUGUST 1974

Conditions of sale: This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated

without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this

condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

NEL Books are published by

Neiv English Library Limited from Barnard's Inn, Holborn, London, E.C.I. Printed in Finland by Uusi Kivipaino Oy.

450 01926 8

Dedication

TO MARGARET LESSER

AND ALL THE GIRLS IN THE DEPARTMENT

CONTENTS

1 THROUGH THE CLOUDS OF VENUS 11

2 UNDER THE SEA DOME 20

3 YEAST! 28

4 COUNCILMAN ACCUSED! 37

5 "BEWARE WATER!" 46

6 TOO LATE! 53

7 QUESTIONS 63

8 COUNCILMAN PURSUED! 72

9 OUT OF THE DEEP 79

10 THE MOUNTAIN OF FLESH 88

11 TO THE SURFACE? 95

12 TO THE CITY? 103

13 MINDS MEET 111

14 MINDS BATTLE 118

15 THE ENEMY? 127

16 THE ENEMY! 135

FOREWORD

this book was first published in 1954, and the de-scription of the surface of Venus was in accordance with

astronomic beliefs of the period.

Since 1954, however, astronomical knowledge of the inner Solar system has advanced enormously

because of the use of radar beams and rockets.

In the late 1950s, the quantity of radio waves received from Venus made it seem that the surface of

Venus might be much hotter than had been thought. On August 27, 1962, a rocket probe called "Mariner II"

was launched in the direction of Venus. It skimmed by within 21,000 miles of Venus on December 14,

1962. Measur-ing the radio waves emitted by the planet, it turned out that the surface temperature

everywhere was indeed considerably higher than the boiling point of water.

This meant that far from having a worldwide ocean, as described in this book, Venus had no ocean at all.

All of Venus's water is in the form of water vapor in its clouds, and the surface is exceedingly hot and is

bone-dry. The atmosphere of Venus is, moreover, denser than had been thought and is almost entirely

carbon dioxide.

Nor had it been known, in 1954, how long it took Venus to rotate on its axis. In 1964, radar beams

bounced off Venus's surface showed that it was turn-ing once in every 243 days (eighteen days longer than

its year) and in the "wrong" direction as compared with other planets.

I hope that the readers enjoy this story anyway, but I would not wish them to be misguided into accepting

as fact some of the material which was "accurate" in 1954 but which is now outdated.

isaac asimov November, 1970

Chapter 1

THROUGH THE CLOUDS OF VENUS

lucky starr and john bigman jones kicked them-selves up from the gravity-free Space Station No. 2 and

drifted toward the planetary coaster that waited for them with its air lock open. Their movements had the

grace of long practice under non-gravity conditions, despite the fact that their bodies seemed thick and

gro-tesque in the space suits they wore.

Bigman arched his back as he moved upward and craned his head to stare once again at Venus. His

voice sounded loudly in Lucky's ear through the suit'sf radio. "Space! Look at that rock, will you?" Every

inch of Big-man's five-foot-two was tense with the thrill of the sight.

Bigman had been born and bred on Mars and had never in his life been so close to Venus. He was used

to ruddy planets and rocky asteroids. He had even visited green and blue Earth. But here, now, was

something that was pure gray and white.

Venus filled over half the sky. It was only two thou-sand miles away from the space station they were

on. Another space station was on the opposite side of the planet. These two stations, acting as receiving

depots for Venus-bound spaceships, streaked about the planet in a three-hour period of revolution, following

one another's tracks like little puppies forever chasing their tails.

Yet from those space stations, close though they were

to Venus, nothing could be seen of the planet's surface. No continents showed, no oceans, no deserts or moun-tains,

no green valleys. Whiteness, only brilliant white-ness, interspersed with shifting lines of gray.

The whiteness was the turbulent cloud layer that hovered eternally over all of Venus, and the gray lines marked the

boundaries where cloud masses met and clashed. Vapor moved downward at those boundaries, and below those gray

lines, on Venus's invisible surface, it rained.

Lucky Starr said, "No use looking at Venus, Bigman. You'll be seeing plenty of it, close up, for a while. It's the sun

you ought to be saying good-by to."

Bigman snorted. To his Mars-accustomed eyes, even Earth's sun seemed swollen and overbright. The sun, as seen

from Venus's orbit, was a bloated monster. It was two and a quarter times as bright as Earth's sun, four times as bright

as the familiar sun on Bigman's Mars. Personally, he was glad that Venus's clouds would hide its sun. He was glad

that the space station always ar-ranged its vanes in such a way as to block off the sunlight.

Lucky Starr said, "Well, you crazy Martian, are you getting in?"

Bigman had brought himself to a halt at the lip of the open lock by the casual pressure of one hand. He was still

looking at Venus. The visible half was in the full glare of the sun, but at the eastern side the night shadow was

creeping in, moving quickly as the space station raced on in its orbit.

Lucky, still moving upward, caught the lip of the lock in his turn and brought his other space-suited hand flat

against Bigman's seat. Under the gravity-free conditions, Bigman's little body went tumbling slowly inward, while

Lucky's figure bobbed outward.

Lucky's arm muscle contracted, and he floated up and inward with an easy, flowing motion. Lucky had no cause for

a light heart at the moment, but he was forced into a smile when he found Bigman spread-eagled in mid-air, with the tip

of one gauntleted finger against 13

the inner lock holding him steady. The outer lock closed as Lucky passed through.

Bigman said, "Listen, you wombug, someday I'm

walking out on you and you can get yourself an-

other ----- "

Air hissed into the small room, and the inner lock opened. Two men floated rapidly through, dodging Big-man's

dangling feet. The one in the lead, a stocky fellow with dark hair and a surprisingly large mustache, said, "Is there any

trouble, gentlemen?"

The second man, taller, thinner, and with lighter hair but a mustache just as large, said, "Can we help you?"

Bigman said loftily, "You can help us by giving us room and letting us get our suits off." He had flicked himself to

the floor and was removing his suit as he spoke. Lucky had already shucked his.

The men went through the inner lock. It, too, closed behind them. The space suits, their outer surface cold with the

cold of space, were frosting over as moisture from the warm air of the coaster congealed upon them. Bigman tossed

them out of the coaster's warm, moist air on to the tiled racks, where the ice might melt.

The dark-haired man said, "Let's see, now. You two are William Williams and John Jones. Right?"

Lucky said, "I'm Williams." Using that alias under ordinary conditions was second nature to Lucky by now. It was

customary for Council of Science members to shun publicity at all times. It was particularly ad-visable now with the

situation on Venus as confused and uncertain as it was.

Lucky went on, "Our papers are in order, I believe, and our luggage is aboard."

"Everything's all right," the dark-haired one said, "I'm George Reval, pilot, and this is Tor Johnson, my co-pilot.

We'll be taking off in a few minutes. If there's anything you want, let us know."

The two passengers were shown to their small cabin, and Lucky sighed inwardly. He was never thoroughly

comfortable in space except on his own speed cruiser,

the Shooting Starr, now at rest in the space station's hangar.

Tor Johnson said in a deep voice, "Let me warn you,

by the way, that once we get out of the space station's

orbit, we won't be in free fall any more. Gravity will

start picking up. If you get space-sick -------- "

Bigman yelled, "Space-sick! You in-planet goop, I could take gravity changes when I was a baby that you couldn't

take right now." He flicked his finger against the wall, turned a slow somersault, touched the wall again, and ended

with his feet just a half-inch above the floor. "Try that someday when you feel real manly."

"Say," said the co-pilot, grinning, "you squeeze a lot of brash into half a pint, don't you?"

Bigman flushed instantly. "Half a pint! Why, you

soup-straining cobber ------ " he screamed, but Lucky's

hand was on his shoulder and he swallowed the rest of the sentence. "See you on Venus," the little Martian muttered

darkly.

Tor was still grinning. He followed his chief into the control room toward the head of the ship.

Bigman, his anger gone at once, said to Lucky curi-ously, "Say, how about those mustaches? Never saw any so

big."

Lucky said, "It's just a Venusian custom, Bigman. I think practically everybody grows them on Venus."

"That so?" Bigman fingered his lip, stroking its bare-ness. "Wonder how I'd look in one."

"With one that big?" smiled Lucky. "It would drown your whole face."

He dodged the punch Bigman threw at him just as

the floor trembled lightly beneath their feet and the

Venus Marvel lifted off the space station. The coaster

turned its nose into the contracting spiral trajectory

. that would carry it "down" to Venus.

Lucky Starr felt the beginnings of a long-overdue relaxation flooding him as the coaster picked up speed. His

brown eyes were thoughtful, and his keen, fine-featured face was in repose. He was tall and looked

slim, but beneath that deceptive slimness were whip-cord muscles.

Life had already given much to Lucky of both good and evil. He had lost Ms parents while still a child,

lost them in a pirate attack near the very Venus he was now approaching. He had been brought up by his

father's dearest friends, Hector Conway, now chief of the Council of Science, and Augustus Henree,

section direc-tor of the same organization.

Lucky had been educated and trained with but one thought in mind: Someday he was to enter that very

Council of Science, whose powers and functions made it the most important and yet least-known body in

the galaxy.

It was only a year ago, upon his graduation from the academy, that he had entered into full membership

and become dedicated to the advancement of man and the destruction of the enemies of civilization. He

was the youngest member of the Council and probably would remain so for years.

Yet already he had won his first battles. On the deserts of Mars and among the dimlit rocks of the

asteroid belt, he had met and triumphed over wrong-doing.

But the war against crime and evil is not a short-term conflict, and now it was Venus that was the

setting for trouble, a trouble that was particularly disturbing since its details were misty.

Chief of the Council Hector Conway had pinched his lip and said, "I'm not sure whether it's a Sirian

con-spiracy against the Solar Confederation, or just petty racketeering. Our local men there tend to view it

seriously."

Lucky said, "Have you sent any of our trouble shooters?" He was not long back from the asteroids, and

he was listening to this with concern.

Conway said, "Yes: Evans."

"Lou Evans?" asked Lucky, his dark eyes lighting with pleasure. "He was one of my roommates at the

academy. He's good."

"Is he? The Venus office of the Council has requested his removal and investigation on the charge of corrup-tion!"

"What?" Lucky was on his feet, horrified. "Uncle Hector, that's impossible."

"Want to go out there and look into it yourself?"

"Do I! Great stars and little asteroids! Bigman and I will take off just as soon as we get the Shooting Starr

flight-ready."

And now Lucky watched out the porthole thought-fully, on the last leg of his flight. The night shadow had crept

over Venus, and for an hour there was only black-ness to be seen. All the stars were hidden by Venus's huge bulk.

Then they were out in the sunlight again, but now the viewport was only gray. They were too close to see the

planet as a whole. They were even too close to see the clouds. They were actually inside the cloudy layer.

Bigman, having just finished a large chicken-salad sandwich, wiped his lips and said, "Space, I'd hate to have to

pilot a ship through all this muck."

The coaster's wings had snapped out into extended position to take advantage of the atmosphere, and there was a

definite difference in the quality of the ship's mo-tion as a result. The buffeting of the winds could be felt and the

plunging and lifting of the drafts that sink and rise.

Ships that navigate space are not suitable for the treachery of thick atmosphere. It is for that reason that planets

like Earth and Venus, with deep layers of air enshrouding them, require space stations. To those space stations come

the ships of deep space. From the stations planetary coasters with retractable wings ride the tricky ak currents to the

planet's surface.

Bigman, who could pilot a ship from Pluto to Mercury blindfolded, would have been lost at the first thickening

wisp of an atmosphere. Even Lucky, who in his intensive training at the academy had piloted coast-ers, would not

have cared to take on the job in the blanketing clouds that surrounded them now.

"Until the first explorers landed on Venus," Lucky said, "all mankind ever saw of the planet was the outer surface of

these clouds. They had weird notions about the planet then."

Bigman didn't reply. He was looking into the cello-plex container to make sure there wasn't another chicken-salad

sandwich hiding there.

Lucky went on. "They couldn't tell how fast Venus was rotating or whether it was rotating at all. They weren't even

sure about the composition of Venus's atmosphere. They knew it had carbon dioxide, but until the late 1900s

astronomers thought Venus had no water. When ships began to land, mankind found that wasn't so."

He broke off. Despite himself, Lucky's mind re-turned once again to the coded spacegram he had re-ceived in

mid-flight, with Earth ten million miles behind. It was from Lou Evans, his old roommate, to. whom he had subethered

that he was on his way.

The reply was short, blunt, and clear. It was, "Stay away!"

Just that! It was unlike Evans. To Lucky, a message like that meant trouble, big trouble, so he did not "stay away."

Instead, he moved the micropile energy output up a notch and increased acceleration to the gasping point.

Bigman was saying, "Gives you a funny feeling, Lucky, when you think that once, long ago, people were all

cooped up on Earth. Couldn't get off it no matter what they did. Didn't know anything about Mars or the moon or

anywhere. It gives me the shivers."

It was just at that point that they pierced the cloud barrier, and even Lucky's gloomy thoughts vanished at the

sight that met their eyes.

It was sudden. One moment they were surrounded by what seemed an eternal milkiness; the next, there was only

transparent air about them. Everything below was bathed in a clear, pearly light. Above was the gray undersurface of

the clouds.

Bigman said, "Hey, Lucky, look!"

Venus stretched out below them for miles in every direction, and it was a solid carpet of blue-green

vege-tation. There were no dips or rises in the surface. It was absolutely level, as though it had been

planed down by a giant atomic siicer.

Nor was there anything to be seen that would have been normal in an Earthly scene. No roads or

houses, no towns or streams. Just blue-green, unvarying, as far as could be seen.

Lucky said, "Carbon dioxide does it. It's the part of the air plants feed on. On Earth there's only three

hun-dredths of one per cent in the air, but here almost ten per cent of the air is carbon dioxide."

Bigman, who had lived for years on the farms of Mars, knew about carbon dioxide. He said, "What

makes it so light with all the clouds?"

Lucky smiled. "You're forgetting, Bigman. The sun is over twice as bright here as on earth." Then as he

looked out the port again, his smile thinned and vanished.

"Funny," he murmured.

Suddenly, he turned away from the window. "Big-man," he said, "come with me to the pilot room."

In two strides he was out the cabin. In two more, he was at the pilot room. The door wasn't locked. He

pulled it open. Both pilots, George Reval and Tor Johnson, were at their places, eyes glued to the controls.

Neither turned as they entered.

Lucky said, "Men --- "

No response.

He touched Johnson's shoulder, and the co-pilot's arm twitched irritably, shaking off Lucky's grip.

The young Councilman seized Johnson by either shoulder and called, "Get the other one, Bigman!"

The little fellow was already at work on that very job, asking no questions, attacking with a bantam's

fury.

Lucky hurled Johnson from him. Johnson staggered back, righted himself, and charged forward. Lucky

ducked a wild blow and brought a straight-armed right

to the side of the other's jaw. Johnson went down, cold. At nearly the same moment, Bigman, with a quick and skillful

twist of George Reval's arm, flung him along the floor and knocked him breathless.

Bigman dragged both pilots outside the pilot room and closed the door on them. He came back to find Lucky

handling the controls feverishly.

Only then did he ask for an explanation. "What hap pened?"

"We weren't leveling off," said Lucky grimly. "I watched the surface, and it was coming up too fast. It still is."

He strove desperately to find the particular control for the ailerons, those vanes that controlled the angle of flight.

The blue surface of Venus was much closer. It was rushing at them.

Lucky's eyes were on the pressure gauge. It measured the weight of air above them. The higher it rose, the closer

they were to the surface. It was climbing less quickly now. Lucky's fist closed more tightly on the duorod, squeezing

the forks together. That must be it. He dared not exert force too rapidly or the ailerons might be whipped off

altogether by the screaming gale that flung itself past their ship. Yet there was only five hundred feet to spare before

zero altitude.

His nostrils flaring, the cords in his neck standing out, Lucky played those ailerons against the wind.

"We're leveling," breathed Bigman. "We're level-

ing ----- "

But there wasn't room enough. The blue-green came up and up till it filled all the view in the port. Then, with a

speed that was too great and an angle that was also too great, the Venus Marvel, carrying Lucky Starr and Bigman

Jones, struck the surface of the planet Venus.

Chapter 2

UNDER THE SEA DOME

had the surface of venus been what it seemed to be at first glance, the Venus Marvel would have smashed to scrap

and burned to ash. The career of Lucky Starr would have ended at that moment.

Fortunately, the vegetation that had so thickly met the eye was neither grass nor shrubbery, but seaweed. The flat

plain was no surface of soil and rock, but water, the top of an ocean that surrounded and covered all of Venus.

The Venus Marvel, even so, hit the ocean with a thunderous rattle, tore through the ropy weeds, and boiled its way

into the depths. Lucky and Bigman were hurled against the walls.

An ordinary vessel might have been smashed, but the Venus Marvel had been designed for entering water at high

speed. Its seams were tight; its form, streamlined. Its wings, which Lucky had neither time nor knowledge to retract,

were torn loose, and its frame groaned under the shock, but it remained seaworthy.

Down, down it went into the green-black murk of the Venusian ocean. The cloud-diffused light from above was

almost totally stopped by the tight weed cover. The ship's artificial lighting did not go on, its 20

workings apparently put out of order by the shock of contact.

Lucky's senses were whirling. "Bigman," he called.

There was no answer, and he stretched out his arms, feeling. His hand touched Bigman's face.

"Bigman!" he called again. He felt the little Martian's chest, and the heart was beating regularly. Relief washed over

Lucky.

He had no way of telling what was happening to the ship. He knew he could never find any way of control-ling it in

the complete darkness that enveloped them. He could only hope that the friction of the water would halt the ship

before it struck bottom.

He felt for the pencil flash in his shirt pocket—a little plastic rod some six inches long that, on activa-tion by thumb

pressure, became a solid glow of light that streamed out forward, its beam broadening with-out seeming to weaken

appreciably.

Lucky groped for Bigman again and examined him gently. There was a lump on the Martian's temple, but no broken

bones so far as Lucky could tell.

Bigman's eyes fluttered. He groaned.

Lucky whispered, "Take it easy, Bigman. We'll be all right." He was far from sure of that as he stepped out into the

corridor. The pilots would have to be alive and cooperative if the ship were ever to see home port again.

They were sitting up, blinking at Lucky's flash as he came through the door.

"What happened?" groaned Johnson. "One minute I

was at the controls, and then ------ " There was no hostil-

ity, only pain and confusion, in his eyes.

The Venus Marvel was back to partial normality. It was limping badly, but its searchlights, fore and aft, had been

restored to operation and the emergency batteries had been rigged up to supply them with all the power they would

need for vital operations. The churn-ing of the propeller could be dimly heard, and the planetary coaster was

displaying, adequately enough,

its third function. It was a vessel that could navigate, not only in space and in air, but under water as well.

George Reval stepped into the control room. He was downcast and obviously embarrassed. He had a gash on his

cheek, which Lucky had washed, disinfected, and neatly sprayed with koagulum.

Reval said, "There are a few minor seepages, but I plugged them. The wings are gone, and the main bat-teries are

all junked up. We'll need all sorts of repairs, but I guess we're lucky at that. You did a good job,.Mr. Williams."

Lucky nodded briefly. "Suppose you tell me what happened."

Reval flushed. "I don't know. I hate to say it, but I don't know."

"How about you?" asked Lucky, addressing the other.

Tor Johnson, his large hands nursing the radio back to life, shook his head.

Reval said, "The last clear thoughts I can remember were while we were still inside the cloud layer. I remem-ber

nothing after that till I found myself staring at your flash."

Lucky said, "Do you or Johnson use drugs of any kind?"

Johnson looked up angrily. He rumbled, "No. Noth-ing."

"Then what made you blank out, and both at the same time, too?"

Reval said, "I wish I knew. Look, Mr. Williams, neither one of us is an amateur. Our records as coaster pilots are first

class." He groaned. "Or at least we were first-class pilots. We'll probably be grounded after this."

"We'll see," said Lucky.

"Say, look," said Bigman, testily, "what's the use of talking about what's over and gone? Where are we now? That's

what I want to know. Where are we going?"

Tor Johnson said, "We're 'way off our course. I can tell you that much. It will be five or six hours before we get out

to Aphrodite." 23

"Fat Jupiter and little satellites!" said Bigman, staring at the blackness outside the port in disgust. "Five or six hours

in this black mess?"

Aphrodite is the largest city on Venus, with a popula-tion of over a quarter of a million.

With the Venus Marvel still a mile away, the sea about it was lit into green translucence by Aphrodite's lights. In

the eerie luminosity the. dark, sleek shapes of the rescue vessels, which had been sent out to meet them after radio

contact had been established, could be plainly made out. They slipped along, silent compan-ions.

As for Lucky and Bigman, it was their first sight of one of Venus's underwater domed cities. They almost forgot the

unpleasantness they had just passed through, in their amazement at the wonderful object before them.

From a distance it seemed an emerald-green, fairy-land bubble, shimmering and quivering because of the water

between them. Dimly they could make out build-ings and the structural webbing of the beams that held up the city

dome against the weight of water overhead.

It grew larger and glowed more brightly as they ap-proached. The green grew lighter as the distance of water

between them grew less. Aphrodite became less unreal, less fairylandish, but even more magnificent.

Finally they slid into a huge air lock, capable of hold-ing a small fleet of freighters or a large battle cruiser, and

waited while the water was pumped out. And when that was done, the Venus Marvel was floated out of the lock and

into the city on a lift field.

Lucky and Bigman watched as their luggage was re-moved, shook hands gravely with Reval and Johnson, and

took a skimmer to the Hotel Bellevue-Aphrodite.

Bigman looked out of the curved window as their skimmer, its gyro-wings revolving with stately dignity, moved

lightly among the city's beams and over its roof-tops.

He said, "So this is Venus. Don't know if it's worth going through so much for it, though. I'll never forget that ocean

coming up at us!"

Lucky said, "I'm afraid that was just the beginning."

Bigman looked uneasily at his big friend. "You really think so?"

Lucky shrugged. "It depends. Let's see what Evans has to tell us."

The Green Room of the Hotel Bellevue-Aphrodite was just that. The quality of the lighting and the shimmer of it

gave the tables and guests the appearance of being suspended beneath the sea. The ceiling was an inverted bowl,

below which there turned slowly a large aquarium globe, supported by cunningly placed lift beams. The water in it

was laced with strands of Venusian seaweed and in among it writhed colorful "sea ribbons," one of the most beautiful

forms of animal life on the planet.

Bigman had come in first, intent on dinner. He was annoyed at the absence of a punch menu, disturbed by the

presence of actual human waiters, and resentful over the fact that he was told that diners in the Green Room ate a meal

supplied by the management and only that. He was mollified, slightly, when the appetizer turned out to be tasty and

the soup, very good.

Then the music started, the domed ceiling gradually came to glowing life, and the aquarium globe began its gentle

spinning.

Bigman's mouth fell open; his dinner was forgotten.

"Look at that," he said.

Lucky was looking. The sea ribbons were of different lengths, varying from tiny threads two inches long to broad

and sinuous belts that stretched a yard or more from end to end. They were all thin, thin as a sheet of paper. They

moved by wriggling their bodies into a series of waves that rippled down their full length.

And each one fluoresced; each one sparkled with colored light. It was a tremendous display. Down the sides of

each sea ribbon were little glowing spirals of

light: crimson, pink, and orange; a few blues and violets scattered through; and one or two striking whites among the

larger specimens. All were overcast with the light-green wash of the external light. As they swam, the lines of color

snapped and interlaced. To the dazzled eye they seemed to be leaving rainbow trails that washed and sparkled in the

water, fading out only to be renewed in still brighter tints.

Bigman turned his attention reluctantly to his dessert. The waiter had called it "jelly seeds," and at first the little

fellow had regarded the dish suspiciously. The jelly seeds were soft orange ovals, which clung together just a bit but

came up readily enough in the spoon. For a moment they felt dry and tasteless to the tongue, but then, suddenly, they

melted into a thick, sirupy liquid that was sheer delight.

"Space!" said the astonished Bigman. "Have you tried the dessert?"

"What?" asked Lucky absently.

"Taste the dessert, will you? It's like thick pineapple juice, only a million times better. . . . What's the matter?"

Lucky said, "We have company."

"Aw, go on." Bigman made a move to turn in his seat as though to inspect the other diners.

Lucky said quietly, "Take it easy," and that froze Bigman.

Bigman heard the soft steps of someone approaching their table. He tried to twist his eyes. His own blaster was in

his room, but he had a force knife in his belt pocket. It looked like a watch fob, but it could slice a man in two, if

necessary. He fingered it intensely.

A voice behind Bigman said, "May I join you, folks?"

Bigman turned in his seat, force knife palmed and ready for a quick, upward thrust. But the man looked anything but

sinister. He was fat, but his clothes fit well. His face was round and his graying hair was carefully combed over the top

of his head, though his baldness showed anyway. His eyes were little, blue, and full of

what seemed like friendliness. Of course, he had a large, grizzled mustache of the true Venusian fashion.

Lucky said calmly, "Sit down, by all means." His at-tention seemed entirely centered on the cup of hot coffee that

he held cradled in Ms right hand.

The fat man sat down. His hands rested upon the table. One wrist was exposed, slightly shaded by the palm of the

other. For an instant, an oval spot on it darkened and turned black. Within it little yellow grains of light danced and

flickered in the familiar patterns of the Big Dipper and of Orion. Then it dis-appeared, and there was only an innocent

plump wrist and the smiling, round face of the fat man above it.

That identifying mark of the Council of Science could be neither forged nor imitated. The method of its con-trolled

appearance by the exertion of will was just about the most closely guarded secret of the Council.

The fat man said, "My name is Mel Morriss."

Lucky said, "I rather thought you were. You've been described to me."

Bigman sat back and returned his force knife to its place. Mel Morriss was head of the Venusian section of the

Council. Bigman had heard of him. In a way he was relieved, and in another way he was just a little disap-pointed. He

had expected a fight—perhaps a quick dash of coffee into the fat man's face, the table overturned, and from then on,

anything.

Lucky said, "Venus seems an unusual and beautiful place."

"You have observed our fluorescent aquarium?"

"It is very spectacular," said Lucky.

The Venusian councilman smiled and raised a finger. The waiter brought him a hot cup of coffee. Morriss let it cool

for a moment, then said softly, "I believe you are disappointed to see me here. You expected other com-pany, I think."

Lucky said coolly, "I had looked forward to an in-formal conversation with a friend."

"In fact," said Morriss, "you had sent a message to Councilman Evans to meet you here."

"I see you know that."

"Quite. Evans has been under close observation for quite a while. Communications to him are intercepted."

Their voices were low. Even Bigman had trouble hearing them as they faced one, another, sipping coffee and

allowing no trace of expression in their words.

Lucky said, "You are wrong to do this."

"You speak as his friend?"

"I do."

"And I suppose that, as your friend, he warned you to stay away from Venus."

"You know about that, too, I see?"

"Quite. And you had a near-fatal accident in landing on Venus. Am I right?"

"You are. You're implying that Evans feared some such event?"

"Feared it? Great space, Starr, your friend Evans en-gineered that accident."

Chapter 3

YEAST!

LUCKY'S EXPRESSION REMAINED IMPASSIVE. Not by SO

much as an eye flicker did he betray any concern. "De-tails, please," he said.

Morriss was smiling again, half his mouth hidden by his preposterous Venusian mustache. "Not here, I'm afraid."

"Name your place, then."

"One moment." Morriss looked at his watch. "In just about a minute, the show will begin. There'll be dancing by

sealight."

"Sealight?"

"The globe above will shine dim green. People will get up to dance. We will get up with them and quietly leave."

"You sound as though we are in danger at the mo-ment."

Morriss said gravely, "You are. I assure you that since you entered Aphrodite, our men have never let you out of

their sight."

A genial voice rang out suddenly. It seemed to come from the crystal centerpiece on the table. From the direction in

which other diners turned their attention, it obviously came from the crystal centerpiece on every table.

It said, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Green 28

Room. Have you eaten well? For your added pleasure, the management is proud to present the magnetonic rhythms

of Tobe Tobias and his—"

As the voice spoke, the lights went out and the re-mainder of its words were drowned in a rising sigh of wonder

that came from the assembled guests, most of whom were fresh from Earth. The aquarium globe in the ceiling was

suddenly a luminous emerald green and the sea-ribbon glow was sharply brilliant. The globe as-sumed a faceted

appearance so that, as it turned, drift-ing shadows circled the room in a soft, almost hypnotic fashion. The sound of

music, drawn almost entirely from the weird, husky sound boxes of a variety of magnetonic instruments, grew louder.

The notes were produced by rods of various shapes being moved in skillful patterns through the magnetic field that

sur-rounded each instrument.

Men and women were rising to dance. There was the rustle of much motion and the sibilance of laughing whispers.

A touch on Lucky's sleeve brought first him, and then Bigman, to their feet.

Lucky and Bigman followed Morriss silently. One by one, grim-faced figures fell in behind them. It was almost as

though they were materializing out of the draperies. They remained far enough away to look innocent, but each, Lucky

felt sure, had his hand near the butt of a blaster. No mistake about it. Mel Morriss of the Venusian section of the

Council of Science took the situation very much in earnest.

Lucky looked about Morriss's apartment with ap-proval. It was not lavish, although it was comfortable. Living in it,

one could forget that a hundred yards above was a translucent dome beyond which was a hundred yards of shallow,

carbonated ocean, followed by a hundred miles of alien, unbreathable atmosphere.

What actually pleased Lucky most was the collection of book films that overflowed one alcove.

He said, "You're a biophysicist, Dr. Morriss?" Auto-matically, he used the professional title.

30 '

Morriss said, "Yes."

"I did biophysical work myself at the academy," said Lucky.

"I know," said Morriss. "I read your paper. It was good work. May I call you David, by the way?"

"It's my first name," conceded the Earthman, "but everyone calls me lucky."

Bigman, meanwhile, had opened one of the film holders, unreeled a bit of the film, and held it to the light. He

shuddered and replaced it.

He said belligerently to Morriss, "You sure don't look like a scientist."

"I imagine not," said Morriss, unoffended. "That helps, you know."

Lucky knew what he meant. In these days, when science really permeated all human society and culture, scientists

could no longer restrict themselves to their laboratories. It was for that reason that the Council of Science had been

born. Originally it was intended only as an advisory body to help the government on matters of galactic importance,

where only trained scientists could have sufficient information to make intelligent decisions. More and more it

had become a crime-fighting agency, a counterespionage system. Into its own hands it was drawing more and

more of the threads of government. Through its activities there might grow, someday, a great Empire of the Milky

Way in which all men might live in peace and harmony.

So it came about that, as members of the Council had to fulfill many duties far removed from pure science, it was

better for their success if they didn't look par- ticularly like scientists—as long, that is, as they had the brains of

scientists.

Lucky said, "Would you begin, sir, by filling me in on the details of the troubles here?"

"How much were you told on Earth?"

"The barest sketch. I would prefer to trust the man on the scene for the rest."

Morriss smiled with more than a trace of irony. "Trust the man on the scene? That's not the usual

attitude of the men in the central office. They send their own trouble shooters, and men such as Evans

arrive."

"And myself, too," said Lucky.

"Your case is a little different. We all know of your accomplishments on Mars last year* and the good

piece of work you've just finished in the asteroids."**

Bigman crowed, "You should have been with Mm if you think you know allabout it."

Lucky reddened slightly. He said hastily, "Never mind now, Bigman. Let's not have any of your yarns."

They were all in large armchairs, Earth-manu-factured, soft and comfortable. There was something

about the reflected sound of their voices that, to Lucky's practiced ear, was good evidence that the

apartment was insulated and spy-shielded.

Morriss lit a cigarette and offered one to the others but was refused. "How much do you know about

Venus, Lucky?"

Lucky smiled. "The usual things one learns in school. Just to go over a few things quickly, it's the second

closest planet to the sun and is about sixty-seven mil-lion miles from it. It's the closest world to Earth and

can come to within twenty-six million miles of the home planet. It's just a little smaller than Earth, with a

gravity about five sixths Earth-normal. It goes around the sun in about seven and a half months and its day

is about thirty-six hours long. It's surface temperature is a little higher than Earth's but not much, because of

the clouds. Also because of the clouds, it has no seasons to speak of. It is covered by ocean, which is, in

turn, covered with seaweed. Its atmosphere is carbon dioxide and nitrogen and is unbreathable. How is

that, Dr. Morriss?"

"You pass with high marks," said the biophysicist, "but I was asking about Venusian society rather than

about the planet itself."

"Well, now, that's more difficult. I know, of course,

*See David Starr, Space Ranger (New York, Signet, 1971). **See Lucky Starr and the Pirates of the Asteroids (New

York, Signet, 1971).

that humans live in domed cities in the shallower parts of the ocean, and, as I can see for myself, Venusian city life is

quite advanced—far beyond Martian city life, for instance."

Bigman yelled, "Hey!"

Morriss turned his little twinkling eyes on the Martian. "You disagree with your friend?"

Bigman hesitated. "Well, maybe not, but he doesn't have to say so."

Lucky smiled and went on, "Venus is a fairly developed planet. I think there are about fifty cities on it and a total

population of six million. Your exports are dried seaweed, which I am told is excellent fertilizer, and dehydrated yeast

bricks for animal food."

"Still fairly good," said Morriss. "How was your dinner at the Green Room, gentlemen?"

Lucky paused at the sudden change of topic, then said, "Very good. Why do you ask?"

"You'll see in a moment. What did you have?"

Lucky said, "I couldn't say, exactly. It was the house meal. I should guess we had a kind of beef goulash with a

rather interesting sauce and a vegetable I didn't recog-nize. There was a fruit salad, I believe, before that and a spicy

variety of tomato soup."

Bigman broke in. "And jelly seeds for dessert."

Morriss laughed hootingly. "You're all wrong, you know," he said. "You had no beef, no fruit, no to-matoes. Not

even coffee. You had only one thing to eat. Only one thing. Yeast!"

"What?" shrieked Bigman.

For a moment Lucky was startled also. His eyes nar-rowed and he said, "Are you serious?"

"Of course. It's the Green Room's specialty. They never speak of it, or Earthmen would refuse to eat it. Later on,

though, you would have been questioned thoroughly as to how you liked this dish or that, how you thought it might

have been improved, and so on. The Green Room is Venus's most valuable experimental station."

Bigman screwed up his small face and yelled vehe-

mently, "I'll have the law on them. I'll make a Council

case of it. They can't feed me yeast without telling me,

like I was a horse or a cow—or a -"

He ended in a flurry of sputtering.

"I am guessing," said Lucky, "that yeast has some connection with the crime wave on Venus."

"Guessing, are you?" said Morriss, dryly. "Then you haven't read our official reports. I'm not surprised.

Earth thinks we are exaggerating here. I assure you, however, we are not. And it isn't merely a crime

wave. Yeast, Lucky, yeast! That is the nub and core of every-thing on this planet."

A self-propelled tender had rolled into the living room with a bubbling percolator and three cups of

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