It is not easy to run a shipping line between destinations which not only change their positions by
millions of kilometres every few days, but also swing through a velocity range of tens of kilometres a
second. Anything like a regular schedule is out of the question; there are times when one must forget the
whole idea and stay in port - or at least in orbit - waiting for the Solar System to rearrange itself for the
greater convenience of mankind. Fortunately, these periods are known years in advance, so it is possible to make the best use
of them
for overhauls, retrofits, and planet leave for the crew. And occasionally, by good luck and aggressive
salesmanship, one can arrange some local chartering, even if only the equivalent of the old-time 'Once
around the Bay' boat-ride.
Captain Eric Laplace was delighted that the three-month stayover off Ganymede would not be a
complete loss. An anonymous and unexpected grant to the Planetary Science Foundation would finance a
reconnaissance of the Jovian (even now, no-one ever called it Luciferian) satellite system, paying
particular attention to a dozen of the neglected smaller moons. Some of these had never even been
properly surveyed, much less visited.
As soon as he heard of the mission, Rolf van der Berg called the Tsung shipping agent and made some
discreet enquiries.
'Yes, first we'll head in towards Io - then do a flyby of Europa -'
'Only a flyby? How close?'
'Just a moment - odd, the flight plan doesn't give details. But of course she won't go inside the
Interdiction Zone.'
'Which was down to ten thousand kilometres at the last ruling... fifteen years ago. Anyway, I'd like to
volunteer as Mission Planetologist. I'll send across my qualifications -'
'No need to do so, Dr van der Berg. They've already asked for you.'
It is always easy to be wise after the event, and when he cast his mind back (he had plenty of time for
it later) Captain Laplace recalled a number of curious aspects of the charter. Two crew members were
taken suddenly sick, and were replaced at short notice; he was so glad to have substitutes that he did not
check their papers as closely as he might have done. (And even if he had, he would have discovered that
they were perfectly in order.)
Then there was the trouble with the cargo. As captain, he was entitled to inspect anything that went
aboard the ship. Of course, it was impossible to do this for every item, but he never hesitated to
investigate if he had good reason. Space crews were, on the whole, a highly responsible body of men; but
long missions could be boring, and there were tedium-relieving chemicals which - though perfectly legal
on Earth - should be discouraged off it.
When Second Officer Chris Floyd reported his suspicions, the Captain assumed that the ship's
chromatographic 'sniffer' had detected another cache of the high-grade opium which his largely Chinese
crew occasionally patronized. This time, however, the matter was serious - very serious.
'Cargo Hold Three, Item 2/456, Captain. The manifest says "Scientific apparatus". It contains
explosives.'
'What!'
'Definitely, Sir. Here's the electrogram.'
'I'll take your word for it, Mr Floyd. Have you inspected the item?'
'No, Sir. It's in a sealed crew case, half a metre by one metre by five metres, approximately. One of
the largest packages the science team brought aboard. It's labelled FRAGILE - HANDLE WITH CARE. But
so is everything, of course.'
Captain Laplace drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the grained plastic 'wood' of his desk. (He hated the pattern, and
intended to get rid of it on the next refit.) Even that slight action started him rising out of
his seat, and he automatically anchored himself by wrapping his foot around the pillar of the chair.
Though he did not for a moment doubt Floyd's report - his new Second Officer was very competent,
and the Captain was pleased that he had never brought up the subject of his famous grandfather -there
could be an innocent explanation. The sniffer might have been misled by other chemicals with nervous
molecular bondings.
They could go down into the hold and force open the package. No - that might be dangerous, and
could cause legal problems as well. Best to go straight to the top; he'd have to do that anyway, sooner or
later.
'Please bring Dr Anderson here - and don't mention this to anyone else,'
'Very good, Sir.' Chris Floyd gave a respectful but quite unnecessary salute, and left the room in a
smooth, effortless glide.
The leader of the science team was not accustomed to zero gravity, and his entrance was quite clumsy.
His obvious genuine indignation did not help, and he had to grab the Captain's desk several times in an
undignified manner.
'Explosives! Of course not! Let me see the manifest... 2/456...'
Dr Anderson pecked out the reference on his portable keyboard, and slowly read off: "Mark V
penetrometers, Quantity three." Of course - no problem.'
'And just what,' said the Captain, 'is a penetrometer?' Despite his concern, he had difficulty in
suppressing a smile; it sounded a little obscene.
'Standard planetary sampling device. You drop it, and with any luck it will give you a core up to ten
metres long - even in hard rock. Then it sends back a complete chemical analysis. The only safe way to
study places like dayside Mercury - or Io, where we'll drop the first one.'
'Dr Anderson,' said the Captain, with great selfrestraint, 'you may be an excellent geologist, but you
don't know much about celestial mechanics. You can't just drop things from orbit -'
The charge of ignorance was clearly unfounded, as the scientist's reaction proved.
'The idiots!' he said. 'Of course, you should have been notified.'
'Exactly. Solid fuel rockets are classified as "Hazardous Cargo". I want clearance from the underwriters,
and your personal assurance that the safety systems are adequate; otherwise, they go overboard. Now,
any other little surprises? Were you planning seismic surveys? I believe those usually involve
explosives...'
A few hours later, the somewhat chastened scientist admitted that he had also found two bottles of
elemental fluorine, used to power the lasers which could zap passing celestial bodies at thousandkilometre
ranges for spectrographic sampling. As pure fluorine was about the most vicious substance
known to man, it was high on the list of prohibited materials - but, like the rockets which drove the
penetrometers down to their targets, it was essential for the mission.
When he was quite satisfied that all the necessary precautions had been taken, Captain Laplace
accepted the scientist's apologies, and his assurance that the oversight was entirely due to the haste with
which the expedition had been organized.
He felt sure that Dr Anderson was telling the truth, but already he felt that there was something odd
about the mission. Just how odd he could never have imagined.
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