Cimon went on. “And since there’s nothing to fear as far as infection is concerned, I’m telling Captain Follenbee that the crew may take surface leave without special protection against the atmosphere. Apparently the lack of surface leave is bad for morale. Are there any objections?”
There weren’t any.
Cimon said, “I see no reason also why we can’t pass on to the next stage of the investigation. I propose that we set up camp at the site of the original settlement. I appoint a committee of five to trek out there. Fawkes, since he can handle the coaster; Novee and Rodriguez to handle the biological data; Vernadsky and myself to take care of the chemistry and physics.
“The rest of you will, naturally, be apprised of all pertinent data in your own specialties, and will be expected to help in suggesting lines of attack, et cetera. Eventually, we may all be out there, but for the while only this small group. And until further notice, communication between ourselves and the main group on ship will be by radio only, since if the trouble, whatever it is, turns out to be localized at settlement site, five men are enough to lose.”
Novee said, “The settlement lived on Junior several years before dying out—over a year, anyway. It could be a long time before we are certain we’re safe.”
“We,” said Cimon, “are not a settlement. We are a group of specialists who are looking for trouble. We’ll find it if it’s there to find, and when we do find it, we’ll beat it. And it won’t take us a couple of years either. Now, are there any objections?”
There were none, and the meeting broke up.
Mark Annuncio sat on his bunk, hands clasped about his knee, chin sunken and touching his chest. He was dry-eyed now, but his voice was heady with frustration.
“They’re not taking me,” he said. “They won’t let me go with them.”
Sheffield was in the chair opposite the boy, bathed in an agony of perplexity. He said, “They may take you later on.”