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"Well," Emma admitted, "reasonably sure. How do we know until we try?"
"It sounds dangerous," Sess commented. He did not seem deterred by it. He was only stating
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an opinion. In this he was unlike
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A NOTE ON SIGNATURES
Dr. Asmenion. So when you're looking for signs of life on a planet, you don't expect a big
neon sign that says "Aliens Live Here." You look for signatures. A "signature" is something that
shows something else is there. Like your signature on a check. If I see that, I know it shows that
you want it paid, so I cash it. Not yours, of course, Bob.
Question. God hates a smart-assed teacher. Dr. Asmenion. No offense, Bob. Methane is a
typical signature. It shows the presence of warm-blooded mammals, or something like them.
Question. I thought methane could come from rotting vegetation and all that?
Dr. Asmenion. Oh, sure. But mostly it comes from the guts of large ruminants. Most of the
methane in the Earth's air is cow farts.
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me; I was very busy ignoring my inner sensations, trying to concentrate on the
technicalities of the briefing.
Emma looked surprised. "That part? Look, I haven't come to the dangerous part yet. This is
a nonaccepted destination for all Ones, most Threes, and some Fives."
"Why?" someone asked.
"That's what you're going there to find out," she said patiently. "It happens to be the
setting the computer picked out as best for testing the correlations between course settings.
You've got armored Fives, and both accept this particular destination. That means you have what
the Heechee designers figured was a good chance to handle it, right?"
"That was a long time ago," I objected.
"Oh, sure. I never said otherwise. It is dangerous -- at least to some extent. That's what
the million is for."
She stopped there, gravely considering us, until someone obliged by asking, "What
million?"
"The million-dollar bonus each one of you gets when you come back," she said. "They've
appropriated ten million dollars out of Corporation funds for this. Equal shares. Of course,
there's a good chance that it will be more than a million each. If you find anything worthwhile,
the regular pay scales apply. And the computer thinks this is a good prospect."
"Why is it worth ten million?" I asked.
"I don't make these decisions," she said patiently. And then she looked at me as a person,
not part of the group, and added, "And by the way, Broadhead. We're writing off your damage to the
ship. So whatever you get is yours to keep. A million dollars? That's a nice little nest egg. You
can go back home, buy yourself a little business, live the rest of your life on that."
We looked at each other, and Emma just sat there, smiling gently and waiting. I don't know
what the others were thinking about. What I was remembering was Gateway Two and the first trip,
wearing our eyes out at the instruments, looking for something that wasn't there. I suppose each
of the others had washouts of their own to remember.
"Launch," she said at last, "is day after tomorrow. The ones who want to sign, come see me
in my office."
They accepted me. They turned Shicky down.
But it wasn't as easy as that, nothing ever is; the one who made sure Shicky was not going
to go along was me. They filled up the first ship quickly: Sess Forehand, two girls from Sierra
Leone, a French couple -- all English-speaking, all briefed, all with previous missions. For the
second ship Metchnikov signed as crew right away; a gay couple, Danny A. and Danny R., were his
picks. Then, grudgingly, he agreed to me. And that left one opening.
"We can take your friend Bakin," Emma said. "Or would you prefer your other friend?"
"What other friend?" I demanded.
"We have an application," she said, "from Gunner Third Susanna Hereira, off the Brazilian
cruiser. She has their permission to take leave for this purpose."
"Susie! I didn't know she'd volunteered!"
Emma studied her punch card reflectively. "She's very qualified," she commented. "Also,
she has all her parts. I am referring," she said sweetly, "to her legs, of course, although as I
understand it you have some interest in her other parts as well. Or would you care to go gay for
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this mission?"
I felt an unreasoning rush of anger. I am not one of your sexually uptight people; the
thought of physical contact with a male was not frightening in itself. But -- with Dane
Metchnikov? Or one of his lovers?
"Gunner Hereira can be here tomorrow," Emma comme "The Brazilian cruiser is going to dock
right after the orbiter."
"Why the hell are you asking me?" I snarled. "Metchnikov is crew chief."
"He prefers to leave it to you, Broadhead. Which one?"
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