Josh went into the analysis nook, opened one of the overhead compartments, and retrieved his own briefcase. Perched on the nook’s one stool, he jacked it into the counter’s power supply and accessed his mail.
He typed, I’m up and open. Connect to this contact, and sent the message across to the code Veronica had shown him.
He waited, trying not to fidget. He wished he’d thought to make a cup of coffee before he started, but now that he had started, he didn’t want to leave the case. Anybody could come down the corridor and read the screen. He wanted all this cleared up, now.
Another line of text spelled itself out across the screen.
Up and open. Now, first question. What’s anybody going to do with a CO2 laser on Venus?
Josh felt his brows knit together. What?
What’s the atmosphere out there made of? CO2. What’s going to happen if you fire a CO2 laser into a CO2 atmosphere? The beam is going to be absorbed almost immediately. What good is that going to be? The setup makes no sense!
Josh took a deep breath, steadying himself. A grand outburst was not going to accomplish anything. We are obviously not seeing the whole mechanism. That’s clear from the pattern of holes on the outside. There was something else here.
Pause. He lifted his cap up, smoothed down his hair, and replaced it. New text appeared.
Dead convenient, isn’t it? Anything that couldn’t be cobbled together from local materials is conveniently missing from the scene, like a power source for the laser, like any kind of repeater or reflector that you couldn’t make out of salt and stone. And what about the lights?
The lights? typed Josh, genuinely mystified.
The lights! There are three lights in the whole place and they’re all in one room. Did somebody just climb down into the dark? Crawl through dark tunnels? Send messages in the dark?
Josh remembered her lying on her back in the antechamber, staring at the ceiling. Now genuine irritation flared. What did she want, a guidebook? They were supposed to be looking for possible answers for these questions. That was why they were all here. This installation was built by aliens; we can’t expect to understand their motives.
No. That’s the tautology whoever set this up wants us to start using. Anything that doesn’t make sense can be put down to this all being done by aliens. OF COURSE it doesn’t make sense to us.
Use Occam’s Razor, Josh. What’s the simpler explanation? That aliens came, undetected, to Venus and created an outpost, which they left half of in permanent darkness. Then they abandoned it, leaving just enough clues behind to let us know they were there. Or is the simpler truth that somebody set up a mysterious looking fake to gain some fame and fortune?
Or funding. Josh thought involuntarily. Oh, Christ. Funding.
His head felt light. The soft, background sounds of movement, random clanking, and soft conversation seemed unbearably loud. He tugged hard on the brim of his cap and looked over to the kitchen, wishing for coffee.
No. This was not happening. She was reading the data wrong.
More text spilled across the screen. There is nothing in there we don’t understand or that we couldn’t make, given the proper facilities. Anything we might not understand is missing. It’s a SETUP.
Josh took a deep breath and forced his fingers to type in a reply. His hands had gone cold, he realized. How come after weeks of camera work, measuring, tagging, and analysis, no one else has reached this conclusion?
No one else wanted to, she replied.
Josh suppressed a snort. And you did? Or maybe you just want to get back at Grandma Helen for thinking you’re harmless?
A long pause this time. A blank screen and a strained mental silence. Is that what you think I’m doing?
I think it’s possible, returned Josh.
Fine. The connection shut down.
Josh sat there, staring at his screen, reading and rereading the words shining on its gray surface.
A fake? Impossible. Ridiculous. The amount of time, money, and material it would take to rig up a fake like this would be incredible. Nobody on Venera would have access to those kinds of resources.
Except maybe Grandma Helen.
Josh’s spine stiffened. No. Now that really was crazy. She’d never do anything like this. No one would.
But, damn, hasn’t it brought the money rolling in. Right when Venera needed it.
Josh shook his head. Crazy, crazy. The Venerans were scientists. If there was a cardinal sin among scientists, it was the falsification of data. If you got caught, it meant scandal, possible lawsuits, and the complete ruination of a career.
But if you didn’t…Josh found he did not want to drink about it. Anger darkened his mind. Vee’d done it. She’d stolen the day. Now, instead of wonder and excitement, he was filled up with suspicion and fear.