Asimov, Isaac - Lucky Starr 05 - Lucky Starr and the Moons of Jupiter

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The change came over Lucky. His dark brown eyes turned hard. Every muscle of

Lucky's tall body seemed tense.

"Commander Donahue," Lucky said, "I am responsible omy to the head of the Council of

Science and to the President of the Solar Federation of Worlds. I outrank you and

yon will .be bound by my decisions and orders.

"The warning yon have just given me is evidence of your own incompetence. You are

obviously not In control of your men and not fit to command men. Now hear this: I will

land on Jupiter Nine and I will conduct my Investigations. I will handle your men if

yon cannot.''

He paused while the other gasped. "Do you understand, Commander?"

By Isaac Aslmov

Published by Ballantine Books:

THE CLASSIC FOUNDATION SERIES: Foundation

Foundation and Empire Second Foundation Foundation's Edge

THE GALACTIC EMPIRE HOVELS; The Stars, Like Dust The Currents Of Space Pebble In The Sky

THE CAVES OF STEEL

THE NAKED SUN

I, ROBOT

THE WINDS OF CHANGE

THE LUCKY STARR ADVENTURES: David Starr—Space Ranger Lucky Starr and the Pirates of the Asteroids Lucky Starr and

the Oceans of Venus Lucky Starr and the Big Sun of Mercury Lucky Starr and the Moons of Jupiter Lucky Starr and the

Rings of Saturn

LUCKY STARR AND THE

MOONS OF

JUPITER

Isaac Asimov

A Del Rey Book

BALLANTINE BOOKS • MEW YORK

writing as Paul French

VL: 7 + up RLL: IL: 8 + up

A Del Rey Book

Published by Ballantine Books

Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Catiada Limited,

Toronto.

All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

ISBN 0-345-31623-1

This edition published by arrangement with Doubleday and Company, Inc.

Manufactured in the United States of America First Ballantine Books Edition: August 1984 Cover art by David B.

Mattingly CONTENTS

1 Trouble on Jupiter Nine 9

2 The Commander Is Angry 19

3 The Agrav Corridor 29

4 Initiation! 41

5 Needle-Guns and Neighbors 51

6 Death Enters the Game 63

7 A Robot Enters the Game 73

8 Blindness 83

9 The Agrav Ship 93

10 In the Vitals of the Ship 103

11 Down the Line of Moons 113

12 The Skies and Snows of Io 123

13 Fall! 135

14 Jupiter Close-up 145

15 Traitor! 157

16 Robot! 167

Preface

Back in the 1950s, I wrote a series of six derring-do novels about David "Lucky" Starr and his battles

against malefactors within the Solar System. Each of the six took place in a different region of the system

and in each case I made use of the astronomical facts—as they were then known.

Now more than a quarter-century later, these novels are being published in new editions; but what a

quarter-century it has been! More has been learned about the worlds of our Solar System in this last

quarter-century than in all the thousands of years that went before.

LUCKY STARR: AND THE MOONS OF JUPITER was written in 1956. In late 1973, however, the

Jupiter-probe, Pioneer X, passed by Jupiter and re-corded an enormous magnetic field containing dense

concentrations of charged particles. The large satellites of Jupiter are buried in that field and the intensity of

radiation would certainly make it difficult or even impossible for manned ships to maneuver in their

neighborhood.

Lucky's trip through the satellite system would have to be adjusted to take the intense radiation into

account if I were writing the book today. And in 1974, a 13th satellite of Jupiter, was discovered, a very

small one only a few miles across, with an orbit quite similar to that of Jupiter-IX. I'd have mentioned it if I

were doing the book now.

I hope my Gentle Readers enjoy the book anyway, as an adventure story, but please don't forget that

the advance of science can outdate even the most conscientious science-fiction writer and that my

astronomical descriptions are no longer accurate in all respects.

isaac asimov 1

Trouble on Jupiter Nine

Jupiter was almost a perfect circle of creamy light, half the apparent diameter of the moon as seen from

Earth, but only one seventh as brightly lit because of its great distance from the sun. Even so, it was a

beautiful and impressive sight.

Lucky Starr gazed at it thoughtfully. The lights in the control room were out and Jupiter was centered

on the visiplate, its dim light making Lucky and his com-panion something more than mere shadows.

Lucky said, "If Jupiter were hollow, Bigman, you could dump thirteen hundred planets the size of Earth

into it and still not quite fill it up. It weighs more than all the other planets put together."

John Bigman Jones, who allowed no one to call him anything but Bigman, and who was five feet two

inches tall if he stretched a little, disapproved of anything that was big, except Lucky. He said, "And what

good is all of it? No one can land on it. No one can come near it."

"We'll never land on it, perhaps," said Lucky, "but we'll be coming close to it once the Agrav ships are

developed."

"With the Sirians on the job," said Bigman, scowling in the gloom, "it's going to take ms to make sure

that happens."

"Well, Bigman, we'll see."

Bigman pounded his small right fist into the open palm of his other hand. "Sands of Mars, Lucky, how

long do we have to wait here?"

They were in Lucky's ship, the Shooting Starr, which was in an orbit about Jupiter, having matched

veloci-ties with Jupiter Nine, the giant planet's outermost satellite of any size.

That satellite hung stationary a thousand miles away. Officially, its name was Adrastea, but except for

the largest and closest, Jupiter's satellites were more popularly known by numbers. Jupiter Nine was

only eighty-nine miles in diameter, merely an asteroid, really, but it looked larger than distant Jupiter,

fifteen million miles away. The satellite was a craggy rock, gray and forbidding in the sun's weak light,

and scarcely worth interest. Both Lucky and Bigman had seen a hundred such sights in the asteroid belt.

In one way, however, it was different. Under its skin a thousand men and billions of dollars labored to

pro-duce ships that would be immune to the effects of gravity.

Nevertheless, Lucky preferred watching Jupiter. Even at its present distance from the ship (actually

three fifths of the distance of Venus from Earth at then closest approach), Jupiter showed a disc large

enough to reveal its colored zones to the naked eye. They showed in fault pink and greenish-blue, as

though a child had dipped Ms fingers in a watery paint and trailed them across Jupiter's image.

Lucky almost forgot the deadliness of Jupiter in its beauty. Bigman had to repeat his question in a

louder voice.

"Hey, Lucky, how long do we have to wait here?"

"You know the answer to that, Bigman. Until Com-mander Donahue comes to pick us up."

"I know that part. What I want to know is why we have to wait for him."

"Because he's asked us to."

"Oh, he has. Who does the cobber think he is?"

"The head of the Agrav project," Lucky said pa-tiently.

"You don't have to do what he says, you know, even if he is."

Bigman had a sharp and deep realization of Lucky's powers. As full member of the Council of

Science, that selfless and brilliant organization that fought the enemies of Earth within and without the

solar system, Lucky Starr could write his own ticket even against the most high-ranking.

But Lucky was not quite ready to do that. Jupiter was a known danger, a planet of poison and

unbear-able gravity; but the situation on Jupiter Nine was more dangerous still because the exact points

of danger were unknown—and until Lucky could know a bit more, he was picking his way forward

carefully.

"Be patient, Bigman," he said.

Bigman grumbled and flipped the lights on. "We're not staring at Jupiter all day, are we?"

He walked over to the small Venusian creature bobbing up and down in its enclosed water-filled cage

in the corner of the pilot room. He peered fondly down at it, his wide mouth grinning with pleasure. The

V-frog always had that effect on Bigman, or indeed, on anyone.

The V-frog was a native of the Venusian oceans,* a tiny thing that seemed, at times, all eyes and feet.

Its body was green and froglike and but six inches long. His twa big eyes protruded like gleaming

blackberries, and its sharp, strongly curved beak opened and closed at irregular intervals. At the moment

its six legs were retracted, so that the V-frog hugged the bottom of its cage, but when Bigman tapped the

top cover, they un-folded like a carpenter's rule and became stilts. ^

It was an ugly little thing but Bigman loved it when he was near it. He couldn't help it. Anyone else

would feel the same. The V-frog saw to that.

Carefully Bigman checked the carbon-dioxide cylin-der that kept the V-frog's water well saturated

and healthful and made sure that the water temperature in the cage was at ninety-five. (The warm oceans

of Venus were bathed by and saturated with an atmosphere of nitrogen and carbon dioxide. Free

oxygen, nonexistent on Venus except in the man-made domed cities at the bottom of its ocean shallows,

would have been most uncomfortable for the V-frog.)

Bigman said, "Do you think the weed supply is enough?" and as though the V-frog heard the remark,

its beak snipped a green tendril off the native Venusian weed that spread through the cage, and chewed

slowly.

Lucky said, "It will hold till we land on Jupiter Nine," and then both men looked up sharply as the

receiving signal sounded its unmistakable rasp.

A stern, aging face was centered on the visiplate

* See Lucky Starr and the Oceans of Venus. 13

after Lucky's fingers had quickly made the necessary adjustments.

"Donahue at this end," said a voice briskly.

"Yes, Commander," said Lucky. "We've been wait-ing for you."

"Clear locks for tube attachment, then."

On the commander's face, written in an expression as clear as though it consisted of letters the size of

Class I meteors, was worry—trouble and worry.

Lucky had grown accustomed to just that expres-sion on men's faces in these past weeks. On Chief

Councilman Hector Conway's for instance. To the chief councilman, Lucky was almost a son and the

older man felt no need to assume any pretense of con-fidence.

Conway's rosy face, usually amiable and self-as-sured under its crown of pure white hair, was set in a

troubled frown. ''I've been waiting for a chance to talk to you for months."

'Trouble?" Lucky asked quietly. He had just re-turned from Mercury less than a month earlier, and the

intervening time had been spent in his New York apartment. "I didn't get any calls from you."

"You earned your vacation," Conway said gruffly. "I wish I could afford to let it continue longer."

"Just what is it, Uncle Hector?"

The chief councilman's old eyes stared firmly into those of the tall, lithe youngster before him and

seemed to find comfort in those calm, brown ones. "Sirius!" he said.

Lucky felt a stir of excitement within him. Was it the great enemy at last?

It had been centuries since the pioneering expedi-

tions from Earth had colonized the planets of the nearer stars. New societies had grown up on those

worlds outside the solar system. Independent societies that scarcely remembered their Earthly origin.

The Sirian planets formed the oldest and strongest of those societies. The society had grown up on

new worlds where an advanced science was brought to bear on untapped resources. It was no secret

that the Sirianss strong in the belief that they represented the best of mankind, looked forward to the time

when they might rule all men everywhere; and that they considered Earth, the old mother world, their

greatest enemy.

In the past they had done what they could to sup-port the enemies of Earth at home* but never yet

had they felt quite strong enough to risk open war.

But now?

"What' s this about Sinus?" asked Lucky.

Conway leaned back. His fingers drummed lightly on the table. He said, "Sirius grows stronger each

year. We know that But their worlds are underpopulated; they have only a few millions. We still have

more human beings in our solar system than exist in all the galaxy besides. We have more ships and more

scien-tists; we still have the edge. But, by Space, we won't keep that edge if things keep on as they've

been going."

"In what way?"

"The Sirians are finding out things. The Council has definite evidence that Sirius is completely

up-to-date on our Agrav research."

"What!" Lucky was startled. There were few things more top-secret than the Agrav project. One of

the reasons actual construction had been confined to one of the outer satellites of Jupiter had been for the

sake

* See Lucky Starr and the Pirates of the Asteroids. 15

of better security. "Great Galaxy, how has that hap-pened?"

Conway smiled bitterly. "That is indeed the ques-tion. How has that happened? All sorts of material

are leaking out to them, and we don't know how. The Agrav data is most critical. We've tried to stop it.

There isn't a man on the project that hasn't been thor-oughly checked for loyalty. There isn't a precaution

we haven't taken. Yet material still leaks. We've planted false data and that's gone out. We know it has

from our own Intelligence information. We've planted data in such ways that it couldn't go out, and yet it

has."

"How do you mean couldn't go out?"

"We scattered it so that no one man—in fact, no half dozen men—could possibly be aware of it all.

Yet it went. It would mean that a number of men would have to be co-operating in espionage and that's

just unbelievable."

"Or that some one man has access everywhere," said Lucky.

"Which is just as impossible. It must be something new, Lucky. Do you see the implication? If Sirius

has learned a new way of picking our brains, we're no longer safe. We could never organize a defense

against them. We could never make plans against them."

"Hold it, Uncle Hector. Great Galaxy, give yourself a minute. What do you mean when you say they're

picking our brains?" Lucky fixed his glance keenly on the older man.

The chief councilman flushed. "Space, Lucky, I'm getting desperate. I can't see how else this can be

done. The Sirians must have developed some form of mind reading, of telepathy."

"Why be embarrassed at suggesting that? I suppose

it's possible. We know of one practical means of telep-athy at least. The Venusian V-frogs."

"All right," said Conway. "I've thought of that, too, but they don't have Venusian V-frogs. I know

what's been going on in V-frog research. It takes thousands of them working in combination to make

telepathy pos-sible. To keep thousands of them anywhere but on Venus would be awfully difficult, and

easily detectable, too. And without V-frogs, there is no way of manag-ing telepathy."

"No way we've worked out," Lucky said softly, "so far. It is possible that the Sirians are ahead of us

in telepathy research."

"Without V-frogs?"

"Even without V-frogs."

"I don't believe it," Conway cried violently. "I can't believe that the Sirians can have solved any

problem that has left the Council of Science so completely helpless."

Lucky almost smiled at the older man's pride in the organization, but had to admit that there was

some-thing more than merely pride there. The Council of Science represented the greatest collection of

intellect the galaxy had ever seen, and for a century not one sizable piece of scientific advance anywhere

in the Galaxy had come anywhere but from the Council.

Nevertheless Lucky couldn't resist a small dig. He said, "They're ahead of us in robotics."

"Not really," snapped Conway. "Only in its applica-tions. Earthmen invented the positronic brain that

made the modern mechanical man possible. Don't forget that. Earth can take the credit for all the basic

developments. It's just that Sinus builds more robots 17

and," he hesitated, "has perfected some of the engineer-ing details."

"So I found out on Mercury," Lucky said grimly.*

"Yes, I know, Lucky. That was dreadfully close."

"But it's over. Let's consider what's facing us now. The situation is this: Sinus is conducting successful

espionage and we can't stop them."

"Yes."

"And the Agrav project is most seriously affected."

"Yes."

"And I suppose, Uncle Hector, that what you want me to do is to go out to Jupiter Nine and see if I

can learn something about this."

Conway nodded gloomily. "It's what I'm asking you to do. It's unfair to you. I've gotten into the habit

of thinking of you as my ace, my trump card, a man I can give any problem and be sure it will be solved.

Yet what can you do here? There's nothing Council hasn't tried and we've located no spy and no method

of espionage. What more can we expect of you?"

"Not of myself alone. I'll have help."

"Bigman?" The older man couldn't help smiling.

"Not Bigman alone. Let me ask you a question. To your knowledge, has any information concerning

our V-frog research on Venus leaked out to the Sirians?"

"No," said Conway. "None has, to my knowledge."

"Then I'll ask to have a V-frog assigned to me."

"A V-frog! One V-frog?"

"That's right."

"But what good win that do you? The mental field of a single V-frog is terribly weak. You won't be

able to read minds."

* See Lucky Starr and the Big Sun of Mercury.

"True, but I might be able to catch whiffs of strong emotion."

Conway said thoughtfully, "You might do that. But what good would that do?"

''I'm not sure yet. Still, it will be an advantage previous investigators haven't had. An unexpected

emotional surge on the part of someone there might help me, might give me grounds for suspicion, might

point the direction for further investigation. Then, too—"

"Yes?"

"If someone possesses telepathic power, developed either naturally or by use of artificial aids, I might

detect something much stronger than just a whiff of emotion. I might detect an actual thought, some

dis-tinct thought, before the individual learns enough from my mind to shield his thoughts. You see what I

mean?"

"He could detect your emotions, too."

"Theoretically, yes, but I would be listening for emotion, so to speak. He would not."

Conway's eyes brightened. "It's a feeble hope, but, by Space, it's a hope! I'll get you your V-frog . . .

But one thing, David," and it was only at moments of deep concern that he used Lucky's real name, the

one by which the young councilman had been known all through childhood—"I want you to appreciate

the importance of this. If we don't find out what the Sirians are doing, it means they are really ahead of us

at last. And that means war can't be delayed much longer. War or peace hangs on this."

"I know," said Lucky softly. 2

The Commander Is Angry

And so it came about that Lucky Starr, Earthman, and his small friend, Bigman Jones, born and bred on

Mars,* traveled beyond the asteroid belt and into the outer reaches of the solar system. And it was for

this reason also that a native of Venus, not a man at all, but a small mind-reading and mind-influencing

animal, accompanied them.

They hovered, now, a thousand miles above Jupiter Nine and waited as a flexible conveyer tube was

made fast between the Shooting Starr and the commander's ship. The tube linked air lock to air lock

and formed a passageway which men could use in going from one ship to the other without having to put

on a space suit. The air of both ships mingled, and a man used to space, taking advantage of the absence

of gravity, could shoot along the tube after a single initial push and guide himself along those places where

the tube curved with the gentle adjusting force of a well-placed elbow.

* See David Starr, Space Ranger.

The commander's hands were the first part of him visible at the lock opening. They gripped the lip of

the opening and pushed in such a way that the com-mander himself leapfrogged out and came down in

the Shooting Starr's localized artificial gravity field (or pseudo-grav field, as it was usually termed) with

scarcely a stagger. It was neatly done, and Bigman, who had high standards indeed for all forms of

space-men's techniques, nodded in approval.

"Good day, Councilman Starr," said Donahue gruffly. It was always a matter of difficulty whether to

say "good morning," "good afternoon," or "good evening" in space, where, strictly speaking, there was

neither morning, afternoon, nor evening. "Good day" was the neutral term usually adopted by spacemen.

"Good day, Commander," said Lucky. "Are there any difficulties concerning our landing on Jupiter

Nine that account for this delay?"

"Difficulties? Well, that's as you look at it." He looked about and sat down on one of the small pilot's

stools. 'Tve been in touch with Council headquarters but they say I must treat with you directly, so I'm

here."

Commander Donahue was a wiry man, with an air of tension about him. His face was deeply lined, his

hair grayish but showing signs of having once been brown. His hands had prominent blue veins along their

backs, and he spoke in an explosive fashion, rapping out his phrases in a quick succession of words.

"Treat with me about what, sir?" asked Lucky.

"Just this, Councilman. I want you to return to Earth."

"Why, sir?" 21

The commander did not look directly at Lucky as he spoke. "We have a morale problem. Our men

have been investigated and investigated and investigated. They've all come through clear each time, and

each time a new investigation is started. They don't like it and neither would you. They don't like being

under continual suspicion. And I'm completely on their side. Our Agrav ship is almost ready and this is

not the time for my men to be disturbed. They talk of going on strike."

Lucky said calmly, "Your men may have been cleared but there is still leakage of information."

Donahue shrugged. "Then it must come from else-where. It must..." He broke off and a sudden

incon-gruous note of friendliness entered his voice. "What's that?"

Bigman followed his eyes and said at once, "That's our V-frog, Commander, I'm Bigman."

The commander did not acknowledge the introduc-tion. He approached the V-frog instead, staring

into the enclosed water-filled cage. "That's a Venus crea-ture, isn't it?"

"That's right," said Bigman.

"I've heard of them. Never saw one, though. Cute little jigger, isn't it?"

Lucky felt a grim amusement. He did not find it strange that in the midst of a most serious discussion

the commander should veer off into an absorbed ad-miration for a small water creature from Venus. The

V-frog itself made that inevitable.

The small creature was looking back at Donahue now out of its black eyes, swaying on its extensible

legs and clicking its parrot beak gently. In all the known

universe its means of survival was unique. It had no defensive weapons, no armor of any sort. It had no

claws or teeth or horns. Its beak might bite, but even that bite could do no harm to any creature larger

than itself.

Yet it multiplied freely along the weed-covered surface of the Venusian ocean, and none of the fierce

predators of the ocean's deeps disturbed it, simply because the V-frog could control emotion. They

in-stinctively caused all other forms of life to like them, to feel friendly toward them, to have no wish

what-ever to hurt them. So they survived. They did more than that. They flourished.

Now this particular V-frog was filling Donahue, quite obviously, with a feeling of friendliness, so that

the army man pointed a finger at it through the glass of its cage and laughed to see it cock its head and

sink down along its collapsing legs, as Donahue moved his finger downward.

"You don't suppose we could get a few of these for Jupiter Nine, do you, Starr?" he asked. "We're

great ones for pets here. An animal here and there makes for a breath of home."

"It's not very practical," said Lucky. "V-frogs are difficult to keep. They have to be maintained in a

carbon-dioxide-saturated system, you know. Oxygen is mildly poisonous to them. That makes things

com-plicated."

"You mean they can't be kept in an open fish-bowl?"

"They can be at tunes. They're kept so on Venus, where carbon dioxide is dirt cheap and where they

can always be turned loose in the ocean if they seem to be unhappy. On a ship, though, or on an airless

world, you don't want to bleed carbon dioxide con-tinuously into the air, so a closed system is best."

"Oh." The commander looked a bit wistful.

"To return to our original subject of discussion," said Lucky briskly, "I must refuse your suggestion that

I leave. I have an assignment and I must carry it through."

It seemed to take a few seconds for the commander to emerge from the spell cast by the V-frog. His

face darkened. "I'm sure you don't understand the entire situation." He turned suddenly, looking down at

Big-man. "Consider your associate, for instance."

The small Martian, with a stiffening of spine, be-gan to redden. "I'm Bigman," he said. "I told you that

before."

"Not very big a man, nevertheless," said the com-mander.

And though Lucky placed a soothing hand on the little fellow's shoulder at once, it didn't help. Bigman

cried, "Bigness isn't on the outside, mister. My name is Bigman, and I'm a big man against you or anyone

you want to name regardless of what the yardstick says. And if you don't believe it. . ." He was

shrug-ging his left shoulder vigorously. "Let go of me, Lucky, will you? This cobber here..."

"Will you wait just one minute, Bigman?" Lucky urged. "Let's find out what the commander is trying to

say."

Donahue had looked startled at Bigman's sudden verbal assault. He said, "I'm sure I meant no harm in

my remark. If I've hurt your feelings, I'm sorry."

"My feelings hurt?" said Bigman, his voice squeak-ing. "Me? Listen, one thing about me, I never lose

my temper and as long as you apologize, we'll forget about it." He hitched at his belt and brought the

palms of his hands down with a smart slap against the knee-high orange and vermilion boots that were

the heritage of his Martian farm-boy past and without which he would never be seen in public (unless he

substituted others with an equally garish color scheme).

"I want to be very plain with you, Councilman," said Donahue, turning to Lucky once more. "I have

almost a thousand men here at Jupiter Nine, and they're tough, all of them. They have to be. They're far

from home. They do a hard job. They run great risks. They have their own outlook on life now and it's a

rough one. For instance, they haze newcomers and not with a light hand, either. Sometimes new-comers

can't stand it and go home. Sometimes they're hurt. If they come through, everything's fine."

Lucky said, "Is this officially permitted?"

"No. But it is permitted unofficially. The men have to be kept happy somehow, and we can't afford to

alienate them by interfering with their horseplay. Good men are hard to replace out here. Not many

people are willing to come to the moons of Jupiter, you know. Then, too, the initiation is helpful in

weeding out the misfits. Those that don't pass would probably fail hi other respects eventually. That is

why I made mention of your friend."

The commander raised his hands hurriedly. "Now make no mistake. I agree that he is big on the inside

and capable and anything else you want. But will he be a match for what lies ahead? Will you,

Council-man?"

"You mean the hazing?"

"It will be rough, Councilman," said Donahue. "The men know you are coming. News gets around

some-how."

"Yes, I know," murmured Lucky.

The commander scowled. "In any case, they know you are to investigate them and they will feel no

kind-ness toward you. They are in an ugly mood and they will hurt you, Councilman Starr. I am asking

you not to land on Jupiter Nine for the project's sake, for my men's sake, and for your own. There you

have it as plainly as I can put it."

Bigman stared at the change that came over Lucky. His usual look of calm good nature was gone. His

dark brown eyes turned hard, and the straight lines of his lean and handsome face were set in something that Big-

man rarely saw there: bitter anger. Every muscle of Lucky's tall body seemed tense.

Lucky said ringingly, "Commander Donahue, I am a member of the Council of Science. I am

responsible only to the head of the Council and to the President of the Solar Federation of Worlds. I

outrank you and you will be bound by my decisions and orders.

"I consider the warning you have just given me to be evidence of your own incompetence. Don't say

any-thing, please; hear me out. You are obviously not in control of your men and not fit to command

men. Now hear this: I will land on Jupiter Nine and I will con-duct my investigations. I will handle your

men if you cannot."

He paused while the other gasped and vainly at-tempted to find his voice. He rapped out, "Do you

understand, Commander?"

Commander Donahue, his face congested almost be-yond recognition, managed to grind out, "I will

take this up with the Council of Science. No arrogant young whipsnap can talk like that to me,

councilman or no councilman. I will match my record as a leader of men against that of anyone in the

service. Furthermore, my warning to you will be on record also and if you are hurt on Jupiter Nine, I will

run the risk of court-martial gladly. I will do nothing for you. In fact, I hope—I hope they teach you

manners, you..."

He was past speech once more. He turned on his heel, toward the open lock, connected still with the

space tube to bis own ship. He clambered in, missing a hand hold in his anger and stumbling badly,

Bigman watched with awe as the commander's heels disappeared down the tube. The other's anger

had been so intense a thing that the little Martian had seemed to feel it in his own mind as though waves

of heat were rolling in upon him.

Bigman said, "Wow, that cobber was really going! You had him rocking."

Lucky nodded. "He was angry. No doubt about it."

Bigman said, "Listen, maybe he's the spy. He'd know the most. He'd have the best chance."

"He'd also be the most thoroughly investigated, so your theory is doubtful. But at least he's helped us

out in a little experiment, so when I see him next I will have to apologize."

"Apologize?" Bigman was horrified. It was his firm view that apologies were strictly something that

other people had to do. "Why?"

"Come, Bigman, do you suppose I really meant those things I said?"

"You weren't angry?"

"Not really."

"It was an act?"

"You could call it that. I wanted to make him angry, really angry, and 1 succeeded. I could tell that

first-hand."

"Firsthand?"

"Couldn't you? Couldn't you feel the anger just pour-ing out of him all over you?"

"Sands of Mars! The V-frog!"

"Of course. It received the commander's anger and rebroadcast it on to us. I had to know if one

V-frog could do it. We tested it back on Earth, but until I tried it under actual field conditions, I wasn't

sure. Now I am."

"It broadcast fine."

"I know. So at least it proves we have a weapon, one weapon, after all."

The Agrav Corridor

"Good deal," said Bigman fiercely. "Then we're on our way."

"Hold it," said Lucky at once. "Hold everything, my friend. This is a non-specific weapon. We'll sense strong

emotion but we may never sense one that will give us the key to the mystery. It's like having eyes. We

may see, but we may not see the right thing, not ever."

"You will," said Bigman confidently.

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NOWHEARTHIS...ThechangecameoverLucky.Hisdarkbrowneyesturnedhard.EverymuscleofLucky'stallbodyseemedtense."CommanderDonahue,"Luckysaid,"IamresponsibleomytotheheadoftheCouncilofScienceandtothePresidentoftheSolarFederationofWorlds.Ioutrankyouandyonwill.beboundbymydecisionsandorders."Thewarningyonhavejus...

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Asimov, Isaac - Lucky Starr 05 - Lucky Starr and the Moons of Jupiter

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