Man-Kzin Wars IX by Larry Niven (best business books of all time .txt) 📕

"Naturally, after I'd been with Rover's people, I was interested in their past experiences and went back to the database entries."

Was he watching her? She didn't look toward him. "For an opportunity like this, they'll take the risk. A bold venture, ingeniously thought out, and very possibly scientifically invaluable. We must find our way to cooperation with them."

She made no reply. Worse than useless, reviving that quarrel. He had likewise been careful after the crisis to say merely that Bihari could have shown more restraint. After all, Emil, Louise, and Birgit were back among them, uninjured albeit shaken. Once again, though, the relationship between Tyra and Craig was not quite cordial. That hurt worse than she cared to admit.

Kumukahi's image was slipping close to Pele's in its headlong rush around the sun.

"The polar orbiters are doing fine work," Takata was saying.

"At a distance," Kivi answered. "If we had had time to design and build a sundiver of our own—"

"We didn't," snorted Verwoort. "We can recommend the making and dispatching of several when we report home."

"Robots," said mate Deutsch a bit sadly. "Nothing but robots to keep watch after us."

"Well," replied Captain Worning, "decades or centuries would be a long and expensive time to maintain humans on station. They might grow bored."

Padilla laughed. "Besides," he put in, "when enough atmosphere is gone that the core drops below a critical threshold, it will explode. I would not want to be any closer than hyperspace escape distance."

"Yes," agreed engineer Koch, "better we live to see the images."

Kumukahi dropped below yonder restless horizon.

"Let us check with the boat," proposed Worning, and entered a command. Tyra's heart stumbled.

Josef Brandt was piloting for physical chemist Jens Lillebro. Raden had invited himself along. "Not my cup of tea, strictly speaking," he had said with his irresistible smile. "But one never knows what sort of clue lies where, does one? At least I can take a few observations of Pele from that angle. Those spots on her are acting downright eerily," as the planet's gravitational force swept through the photosphere.

The screen in Freuchen awoke again, to a view of Henrietta Leavitt's cabin. Brandt sat intent at his controls, Lillebro at his spectroscopic readouts. Raden saw that they were in communication and responded. "All's well," he proclaimed. "We're closing in on the asteroid, and will have velocities matched quite shortly, at about five klicks' distance. Behold."

No time lag was noticeable. They were only some 15,000 kilometers away. Kivi had identified the body among the data pouring in from the continuous automatic sky-scan and, retrieving earlier information, computed an orbit. Now they saw a rough gray lump, about three kilometers long and one at maximum thickness, slowly tumbling.

"Apparently chondritic," commented Raden. "You'll notice the remarkable sparsity of craters. You're right, Maria, it must be from the outer belt, lately perturbed into an eccentric path.

Pristine, Tyra knew, formed hardly more than a billion years ago, in a thinly bestrewn region where there had been scant occasion or time for collisions. Probes were to examine such rocks later. But who knew how much later? Composition and structure might well give unique insights into the early life of every planetary system. This chance was too good to pass up. Should Kumukahi make sudden call on Henrietta, she could boost back to Freuchen in well under an hour.

"Backing down on it, essentially," continued Raden's voice. The asteroid swelled fast in sight. "As you recall, we'll run parallel and let Jens stare while we send minisamplers—"

The thing erupted. A white cloud burst raggedly forth. Gravel and boulders sleeted outward.

Tyra heard herself scream.

The view swung wildly. The barrage became glints across a whirl of stars. Somebody in the boat yelled, "Almächtige Gott!" Somebody else ripped an oath.

The view returned to the cabin and steadied on Rader. Sweat studded his brow, but he grinned, well-nigh laughed. "Whoop, that was close! Thank Josef here. The autopilot isn't programmed for— He yanked us free. Barely, but he did it."

Brandt looked around, his own expression grim. "Barely is correct," he grated. "Some of those stones could have holed us, or even been bouncers."

Tyra shuddered. She knew what he meant. The boat lacked a protective screen-field. The hull was self-sealing. But a small object that punched through could lose too much energy thereby to make an exit, not too much to ricochet back and forth and quite likely hit a man.

"Was für den Teufel—what happened?" roared Worning.

Lillebro spoke almost calmly. "I can guess. The chondrules surrounded a mixture of ices, which also mortared them together. The agglomerate was metastable, and the impulses from our polarizer drive as we neared touched off volatilization and—it will be fascinating to learn what reactions."

"A bomb," added Raden. "I daresay they're not uncommon in young systems, but all of them are disrupted—solar input, impact energy, perhaps cumulative cosmic ray effects—long before intelligence evolves locally to notice them. What a discovery!"

"It has just begun," said Lillebro with rising excitement. "The gas spectrum, and we'll collect specimens—"

"No," decreed Worning. "You will return here. At once."

"What? But, sir, now that we're aware—"

"Of what are we still unaware? I will not risk one of our two boats and three of our lives for something that robots can examine at leisure. Return. That is an order."

"Yes, sir." Brandt did not sound unwilling. Lillebro sighed. Raden gave a wry grin and a rueful shrug.

When he cycled aboard, Tyra was waiting at the lock. She reached for his hands. "You might have been killed," she stammered, and could not altogether hold back the tears. "You might have been killed."

He drew her to him. "Do you care that much?" he whispered. "I dared not hope."

9

A bunk could be folded out to double width, though it then filled most of the deck space in a so-called stateroom. Lights could be turned down to softness. Music could be commanded, Là cì daremm' la mano, Liebestod, afterward the lilt and gentleness of Fynsk Foraar, though likewise softened to a background.

"That was amazing," he said as low. "I