Overhead now was a narrow band of perforated metal flooring, barely wide enough for the rectangular
slot through which the stairway emerged. With a heartfelt sigh of relief, pulling himself upward with
rust-stained hands, Duncan climbed the last few steps and stood amid monstrous bearings, silent hydraulic motors, a maze of cables, much dismantled plumbing, and the delicate tracery of ribs supporting the now useless hundred-meter parabola.
There was still no sign of Karl, and Duncan began a cautious circumnavigation of the antenna
mounting. The catwalk was about two meters wide, and the protective rail almost waist-high, so there
was no real danger. Nevertheless, he kept well away from the edge and avoided looking at the fifty meter drop.
He had barely completed half a circuit when all hell broke loose. There was a sudden whirr of
motors, the low booming of great machineries on the move — and even the occasional accompaniment of
protesting shrieks from gears and bearings that did not wish to be disturbed.
On every side, the huge skyward-facing bowls were beginning to turn in unison, swinging around to
the south. Only the one immediately overhead was motionless, like a blind eye no longer able to react to any stimulus. The din was quite astonishing, and continued for several minutes. Then it stopped as
abruptly as it had started. CYCLOPS had located a new target for its scrutiny.
"Hello, Duncan," said Karl in the sudden silence. "Welcome to Earth."
He had emerged, while Duncan was distracted by the tumult, from a small cubicle on the underside of
the parabola, and was now climbing down a somewhat precarious arrangement of hanging ladders. His
descent looked particularly hazardous because he was using only one hand; the other was firmly clutching a large notebook, and Duncan did not relax until Karl was safely on the platform, a few meters away. He made no attempt to come closer, but stood looking at Duncan with a completely unfathomable expression, neither friendly nor hostile.
Then there was one of those embarrassing pauses when neither party wishes to speak first, and as it
dragged on interminably Duncan became aware for the first time of an omnipresent faint hum from all
around him. The CYCLOPS array was alive now, its hundreds of tracking mirrors working in precise
synchronism. There was no perceptible movement of the great antennas, but they would now be creeping
around at a fraction of a centimeter a second. The multiple facets of the CYCLOPS eye, having fixed their gaze upon the stars, were now turning at the precise rate needed to counter the rotation of the Earth.
How foolish, in his awesome shrine dedicated to the cosmos itself, for two grown men to behave like
children, each trying to outface the other! Duncan had the dual advantage of surprise and a clear
conscience; he would have nothing to lose by speaking first. He did not wish to take the initiative and perhaps antagonize Karl, so it was best to open with some innocuous triviality.
No, not the weather — the amount of Terran conversation devoted to that was quite incredible! — but
something equally neutral.
"That was the hardest work I've done since I got here. I can't believe that people really climb
mountains on this planet."
Karl examined this brilliant gambit for possible booby traps. The he shrugged his shoulders and
replied: "Earth's tallest mountain is two hundred times as high as this. People climb it every year."
At least the ice was broken, and communication had been established. Duncan permitted himself a
sigh of relief; at the same time, now that they were at close quarters, he was shocked by Karl's
appearance. Some of that golden hair had turned to silver, and there was much less of it. In the year since they had last met, Karl seemed to have aged ten. There were crow's-feet wrinkles of anxiety around his eyes, and his brow was now permanently furrowed. He also seemed to have shrunk considerably, and
Earth's gravity could not be wholly to blame, for Duncan was even more vulnerable to that. On Titan, he had always had to look up at Karl; now, as they stood face to face, their eyes were level.
But Karl avoided his gaze and moved restlessly back and forth, firmly clutching the notebook he was
carrying. Presently he walked to the very edge of the platform and leaned with almost ostentation
recklessness against the protective rail.
"Don't do that!" protested Duncan. "It makes me nervous." That, he suspected, was the purpose of the exercise.
"Why should you care?"
The brusque answer saddened Duncan beyond measure. He could only reply: "If you really don't
know, it's too late for me to explain."
"Well, I know this isn't a social visit. I suppose you've seen Calindy?"
"Yes. I've seen her."
"What are you trying to do?"
"I can't speak for Calindy. She doesn't even know that I'm here."
"What are the Makenzies trying to do? For the good of Titan, of course."
Duncan knew better than to argue. He did not even feel angry at the calculated provocation.