the other crazies who wanted a free ride to Venus.
I felt a little embarrassed. “Um … you see, this isn’t a scientific mission. I’m going to Venus—”
“To win the prize money,” Greenbaum interrupted, cranky and impatient. “We know that.”
“To recover my brother’s remains,” I said firmly.
Mickey hunched forward in her chair. “But still, Van, this is an opportunity to do terrifically valuable science. You’ll
be beneath the clouds for days on end! Think of the observations we’ll be able to make!”
“But my ship is designed strictly for the pickup mission,” I explained to them. “We find the wreckage of my brother’s ship and take back his remains. That’s it. We won’t have the space or the capacity to carry a scientist with us. The crew is at a minimum.”
That wasn’t exactly the truth, of course. I had already invited those friends of mine to come along on the expedition, the writers and artists who could immortalize this expedition after we returned. The engineers and designers naturally took a dim view of carrying what they considered to be nonessential personnel. I was already fighting with them over the size of the crew. I couldn’t go back to them and ask them to add still another person, plus all the equipment that a scientist would want to bring along.
“But, Van,” Mickey coaxed, “to go all the way to Venus without making any scientific studies of the planet …” She shook her head.
I turned to Abdullah, sitting at the head of the little table, his arms still folded across his vest.
“I thought that the scientific exploration of the solar system was a responsibility of the space agency’s.”
He nodded grimly. “It was.”
I waited for more. Abdullah just sat there. So I said, “Then why doesn’t the agency send an expedition to Venus?”
Abdullah slowly unfolded his arms and leaned them on the tabletop. “Mr. Humphries, you live in Connecticut, isn’t that right?”
“Not anymore,” I said, wondering what that had to do with anything.
“Any snow there this winter?”
“No, I don’t think so. There hasn’t been any snow for several winters in a row.”
“Uh-huh. Did you see the cherry trees here in Washington? They’re in bloom. In February. On Groundhog Day.”
“Today is Groundhog Day, that’s right,” Greenbaum agreed.
For a moment I thought I had fallen into Alice’s rabbit hole. “I don’t understand what—”
“I was born in New Orleans, Mr. Humphries,” said Abdullah, his deep voice like the rumble of distant thunder. “Or what’s left of it, after the floods.”
“But—”
“Global warming, Mr. Humphries,” he growled. “Have you heard about it?”
“Of course I have. Everybody has.”
“The space agency’s limited resources are fully committed to studies of the Earth’s environment. We have neither funding nor approval for anything else, such as exploring the planet Venus.”
“But the Mars expeditions—”
“Are privately funded.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” I had known that; it had just never occurred to me that the government’s space agency couldn’t participate in the exploration of Mars and the other planets.
“All studies of the other bodies in the solar system are privately funded,” Greenbaum pointed out.
Mickey added, “Even the deep-space work that the astronomers and cosmologists are doing has to be financed by private donors.”
“Men like Trumball and Yamagata,” said Greenbaum.
“Or organizations such as the Gates Foundation and Spielberg,” Mickey said.
Of course I already knew that the big corporations backed the mining and manufacturing operations off-Earth. The competition for raw materials out in the Asteroid Belt was something that Father had often talked about, heatedly.
“Your father is financing this mission to Venus,” Abdullah said. “We are—”
“I am raising the money for this mission,” I snapped. “My father’s prize money will be awarded only when
I felt a little embarrassed. “Um … you see, this isn’t a scientific mission. I’m going to Venus—”
“To win the prize money,” Greenbaum interrupted, cranky and impatient. “We know that.”
“To recover my brother’s remains,” I said firmly.
Mickey hunched forward in her chair. “But still, Van, this is an opportunity to do terrifically valuable science. You’ll
be beneath the clouds for days on end! Think of the observations we’ll be able to make!”
“But my ship is designed strictly for the pickup mission,” I explained to them. “We find the wreckage of my brother’s ship and take back his remains. That’s it. We won’t have the space or the capacity to carry a scientist with us. The crew is at a minimum.”
That wasn’t exactly the truth, of course. I had already invited those friends of mine to come along on the expedition, the writers and artists who could immortalize this expedition after we returned. The engineers and designers naturally took a dim view of carrying what they considered to be nonessential personnel. I was already fighting with them over the size of the crew. I couldn’t go back to them and ask them to add still another person, plus all the equipment that a scientist would want to bring along.
“But, Van,” Mickey coaxed, “to go all the way to Venus without making any scientific studies of the planet …” She shook her head.
I turned to Abdullah, sitting at the head of the little table, his arms still folded across his vest.
“I thought that the scientific exploration of the solar system was a responsibility of the space agency’s.”
He nodded grimly. “It was.”
I waited for more. Abdullah just sat there. So I said, “Then why doesn’t the agency send an expedition to Venus?”
Abdullah slowly unfolded his arms and leaned them on the tabletop. “Mr. Humphries, you live in Connecticut, isn’t that right?”
“Not anymore,” I said, wondering what that had to do with anything.
“Any snow there this winter?”
“No, I don’t think so. There hasn’t been any snow for several winters in a row.”
“Uh-huh. Did you see the cherry trees here in Washington? They’re in bloom. In February. On Groundhog Day.”
“Today is Groundhog Day, that’s right,” Greenbaum agreed.
For a moment I thought I had fallen into Alice’s rabbit hole. “I don’t understand what—”
“I was born in New Orleans, Mr. Humphries,” said Abdullah, his deep voice like the rumble of distant thunder. “Or what’s left of it, after the floods.”
“But—”
“Global warming, Mr. Humphries,” he growled. “Have you heard about it?”
“Of course I have. Everybody has.”
“The space agency’s limited resources are fully committed to studies of the Earth’s environment. We have neither funding nor approval for anything else, such as exploring the planet Venus.”
“But the Mars expeditions—”
“Are privately funded.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” I had known that; it had just never occurred to me that the government’s space agency couldn’t participate in the exploration of Mars and the other planets.
“All studies of the other bodies in the solar system are privately funded,” Greenbaum pointed out.
Mickey added, “Even the deep-space work that the astronomers and cosmologists are doing has to be financed by private donors.”
“Men like Trumball and Yamagata,” said Greenbaum.
“Or organizations such as the Gates Foundation and Spielberg,” Mickey said.
Of course I already knew that the big corporations backed the mining and manufacturing operations off-Earth. The competition for raw materials out in the Asteroid Belt was something that Father had often talked about, heatedly.
“Your father is financing this mission to Venus,” Abdullah said. “We are—”
“I am raising the money for this mission,” I snapped. “My father’s prize money will be awarded only when
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