Free The Diamond Moon by Paul Preuss Page A

Professor Forster’s expedition to Amalthea,” Marianne said to Mays.
     
“That’s right.”
     
“Bill says they aren’t doing anything except making an archaeological survey.”
     
“Perhaps the professor hasn’t told Bill everything,” said Mays.
     
She persisted. “But do you really think the professor is part of a conspiracy?”
     
“I say, Marianne,” said Hawkins worriedly, his hand still in the air.
    “I’m afraid my views on that subject have not been ac-curately reported,” Mays replied. “I haven’t accused Profes-sor Forster of being part of a conspiracy , only of knowing more than he’s telling the public. Frankly, I suspect he has discovered a secret that the Free Spirit have jealously guarded for centuries.”
“The Free Spirit!” Hawkins exclaimed. “What could some centuries-old superstition possibly have to say about a celestial body that was unknown until the 1880’s?”
     
“Just so,” Mays said amiably. The waitress appeared, dressed in an elaborate Balinese temple dancer’s costume.
     
“What will you have?” Hawkins asked Mays.
     
“Ice tea, Thai-style,” said Mays.
     
“Two more here,” said Hawkins, indicating the tall rum drinks he and Marianne had been sipping.
     
“Not for me,” Marianne said. Her glass was still more than half full. The waitress bowed prettily and left.
    “You were asking about centuries-old superstitions, Dr. Hawkins,” Mays said suavely, turning his attention full on Hawkins. “Before I address your question, let me first ask if you can tell me why the underground temples of the Free Spirit cult have the southern constellation Crux depicted on their ceilings—when at the time the earliest of them were built no one in the northern hemisphere knew the config-uration of the southern sky? And just what secrets were those two astronomers on the moon trying to keep when they plotted to destroy the Farside radiotelescopes, which were then trained upon Crux?”
“That the aliens are from Crux, and they’re coming back,” Marianne said with satisfaction.
     
“Oh, Marianne,” Hawkins groaned.
     
“A very reasonable hypothesis,” Mays said, “one among several.”
    “Including coincidence, which in a probabilistic world is not only possible but inevitable.” If Hawkins had not been so flustered, he would have stopped there—“And what clues could Professor Forster have concerning these living aliens . . . that he wouldn’t share with the rest of his team?”—realizing too late that there were all sorts of things someone in Forster’s position would want to keep secret from his academic rivals.
    But again Mays declined a frontal attack. “As to that, I really don’t know. I assure you, however, there will be no secrets when I discover what the professor is keeping to himself.” Mays knitted his furry brows, but there was a kind of mockery in his challenge. “Perhaps you should consider this fair warning, sir. I intend to follow every clue .”
“There won’t be many clues to a nonexistent secret.”
    “Dr. Hawkins, you are such a . . . straightforward man, I’m sure you would be surprised at what I have uncovered already. For example, that Professor Forster has acquired both a small ice mole and a Europan submarine—tools that give your expedition capabilities well beyond the scope of its stated survey goals.”
Hawkins was indeed surprised, and failed to hide it. “How did you know that?”
Mays answered with another question. “Can you offer a straightforward explanation for these rather odd acquisi-tions?”
    “Well, certainly,” said Hawkins, although he was unsure how he’d been maneuvered into defending himself. “Amal-thea is obviously a different place than it seemed when the professor wrote his proposal. The subsurface geology . . .”
    “. . . could be understood with conventional seismo-graphic imaging techniques. Perhaps already is understood. The Space Board has kept watch on Amalthea for more than a