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concentrate itself in a single patch that second by second grew
brighter above his head. And then he was looking out over the top
of the fog bank. It was just a pocket, trapped in the depression of
the vast basin in which the base had been built; it had no doubt
been sited there to shorten the length of the shaft needed to reach
the Ganymean ship. The slope above him finished in a long, rounded
ridge not fifty feet beyond where he stood. He changed direction
slightly to take the steeper incline that led directly to the
summit of the ridge. The last tenuous wisps of whiteness fell away.
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At the top, the night was clear as crystal. He was standing on a
beach of ice that shelved down from his feet into a lake of cotton
wool. On the opposite shore of the lake rose the summits of the
rock buttresses and ice cliffs that stood beyond the base. For
miles around, ghostly white bergs of Ganymedean ice floated on an
ocean of cloud, shining against the blackness of the night.
But there was no Sun.
He raised his eyes, and gasped involuntarily. Above him, five times
larger than the Moon seen from Earth, was the full disk of Jupiter.
No photograph he had ever seen, or any image reproduced on a
display screen, could compare with the grandeur of that sight. It
filled the sky with its radiance. All the colors of the rainbow
were woven into its iridescent bands of light, stacked layer upon
layer outwards from its equator. They faded as they approached its
edge and merged into a hazy circle of pink that encircled the
planet. The pink turned to violet and finally to purple, ending in
a clear, sharp outline that traced an enormous circle against the
sky. Immutable, immovable, eternal. . . mightiest of
the gods-and tiny, puny, ephemeral man had crawled on a pilgrimage
of five hundred million miles to pay homage.
Maybe only seconds passed, maybe hours. H~tht could not tell. For a
fraction of eternity he stood unmoving, a speck lost among the
silent towers of rock and ice. Charlie too had stood upon the
surface of a barren waste and gazed up at a world wreathed in light
and color-but the colors had been those of death.
At that moment, the scenes that Charlie had seen came to Hunt more
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vividly than at any time before. He saw cities consumed by
fireballs ten miles high; he saw gaping chasms, seared and
blackened ash that had once held oceans, and lakes of fire where
mountains had stood. He saw continents buckle and break asunder,
and drown beneath a fury of white heat that came exploding outward
from below. As clearly as if it were really happening, he saw the
huge globe above him swelling and bursting, grotesque with the
deceptive slowness of mighty events seen from great distances. Day
by day it would rush outward into space, consuming its moons one
after the other in an insatiable orgy of gluttony until its force
was spent. And then.
Hunt snapped back to reality with a jolt.
Suddenly the answer he had been seeking was there. It had come out
of nowhere. He tried to trace its root by backtracking through his
thoughts-but there was nothing. The pathways up from the deeper
levels of his mind had opened for a second, but now were closed.
The illusion was exposed. The paradox had gone. Of course nobody
had seen it before. Who would think to question a truth that was
self-evident, and older than the human race itself?
"Pithead Control calling Dr. V. Hunt. Dr. Hunt, come in, please."
The sudden voice in his helmet startled him. He pressed a button in
the control panel on his chest.
"Hunt answering," he acknowledged. "I hear you."
"Routine check. You're five minutes overdue to report. Is
everything okay?"
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"Sorry, didn't notice the time. Yes, everything's okay. . . very
okay. I'm coming back now."
"Thank you." The voice cut off with a click.
Had he been gone that long? He realized that he was cold. The icy
fingers of the Ganymedean night were beginning to feel their way
inside his suit. He wound his heating control up a turn and
flexed his arms. Before he turned, he looked up once more for a
final glimpse of the giant planet. For some strange reason it
seemed to be smiling.
"Thanks, pal," he murmured with a wink. "Maybe P11 be able to do
something for you someday."
With that he began moving down from the ridge, and rapidly faded
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