“
True. I hadn
’
t considered that point. But there is at least evidence of the existence of Baskaw
’
s work. I am no mathematician, but I brought your terraformers the work of a mathematical genius. It must have come from
somewhere.
It dovetails perfectly with the work DeSilvo claims as his own, and it has the merit of being true, and testable. Surely that gives me some credibility. And where you have been able to match my story against your records, it has checked out.
”
“
But even so,
”
Ashdin protested,
“
I can
’
t believe it. He wouldn
’
t do it.
”
Norla spoke up.
“
Just for the sake of argument, Doctor. You wanted the admiral
’
s answer. Let him go on.
”
“
Very well,
”
said Ashdin, plainly reluctant.
“
For the sake of argument, let us say your story is true. But—but my point is that
surely
you can see that behaving as you said he did would be completely out of character for Oskar DeSilvo.
”
“
Yes it would.
”
Koffield turned away from where the two women sat, and considered the dead and ruined landscape that surrounded them.
“
It would be out of character—at least for part of him, the part he let be seen. He was kind, gracious, a gentleman—better liked, and more loved, than I will ever be. And yet he was a schemer, a manipulator, a user, a trickster, a plagiarist on the grandest scale. I have no proof—at present—of my stories of Baskaw and vanishing books, but they are nonetheless true. They tell me that Oskar DeSilvo was a whirling mass of contradictions. I am not the least bit ashamed to admit that I find thinking from his perspective, his point of view, difficult in the extreme.
”
“
So what would a man like that leave in a tomb?
”
Norla asked.
“Tomb.
I think part of the answer lies in that word,
”
said Koffield.
“
A false tomb. Cryosleep chamber. Temporal-confinement chamber. All of them simulations of death.
And recall that, once I found Baskaw
’
s books, he literally retreated into death, albeit temporarily, perhaps merely to avoid dealing with me. Tombs are safe, death is safe. No one can bother you, or challenge you, when you are dead. But he had an ego. A massive one. I don
’
t think he could imagine that people would be fooled forever by his frauds and failures. And, of course, in some corner of his heart,
he
knew that Solace was going to fail, to collapse. DeSilvo, for all his flaws, was quite definitely human enough to be capable of feeling guilt—and he certainly had enough to feel guilty about. But death, real or imagined, would let him hide from the wrath of those he had hurt.
”
Koffield turned again, and looked in the direction of their travel, toward Founder
’
s Dome and whatever was there.
“
He had to know that both frauds—his tomb, and Solace itself—would fail sooner or later. So why build a false tomb for himself on the wrong world—on the world dedicated to terraforming research?
”
“
An answer,
”
said Norla.
“
An answer he could leave behind without getting near the people and the worlds he had hurt.
”
“Yes,”
Koffield said.
“
Precisely. Pride, guilt, ego, and death. A man preoccupied with those, a man who had vast resources at his command, who had perhaps decades to study the problem, rather than the mere weeks and months I had, or the mere days that our friends at Research Dome have had—such a man might have
found
something. A way out.
”
“
And hidden it in his tomb?
”
Ashdin asked.
“
Resurrection!
”
Norla said, standing up suddenly.
“
Out of the tomb comes life!
”
“
And the resurrection of his own reputation,
”
Koffield . said, the excitement in his voice barely controlled.
“
Precisely. It fits. It all fits his psychology far better than sticking his own real tomb on Greenhouse after his own real death.
”
“
And you
’
re worried that whatever that answer is, it might not survive explosive decompression,
”
said Ashdin.
“
Look around you,
”
said Koffield, gesturing toward the hideous wreckage that surrounded them.
“
Suppose they
get it this wrong again? Whatever the clue is that we
’
re
looking for, I doubt we
’
d find it in a place that looked like
this.
”
Ashdin stood up as well, and looked from Norla to Koffield.
“
It
’
s not enough,
”
she said.
“
You might have something, yes. But it
’
s too thin. Too clever. You
’
re reaching too far. Maybe DeSilvo
’
s Tomb is not what we all thought—but I don
’
t think it
’
s what you think either.
”
“
Shall we go find out?
”
Koffield asked quietly, calmly.
“
Let me pull the cart for a while,
”
Norla said.
“
Come on. Let
’
s get moving.
”
They moved on without saying much of anything. Maybe they had said too much as it was. They reached the far side of Sunflower Dome
’
s perimeter and exited through another abandoned airlock with both doors left open. The same sort of debris littered the ground on this side of the dome. It was hard not to reflect on the notion that they were, quite deliberately, heading into a place that was going to have the same thing happen to it. In theory, the dome engineers knew better this time and could do an explosive decompression of Founder
’
s that would blast the air out without tearing the roof off the place. All they could do was hope that Founder
’
s Dome would be blown with a bit more care and precision than Sunflower, and that the precautions they had taken to protect themselves when the time came would be enough.
They spotted a work crew just coming out of the Founder
’
s Dome west airlock when they were about a kilometer away. They could just barely see one of the figures waving its arms at them.
“
Do you think they
’
re calling us?
”
said Ashdin.
“
Switch over to the general comm channel,
”
Koffield said.
Norla switched her own comm over, and instantly heard a new voice.
“
—ou the crazies going
in
there?
”
the voice asked, more quizzical than rude. It was a man
’
s voice.
“
That
’
s us,
”
Koffield replied, cheerfully enough.
“
We
’
ve got all the clearances we need.
”
“
Fine,
”
the voice said.
“
Glad to see you.
”
Norla could just barely make out the tiny figures by the base of the dome. Her suit didn
’
t have image enhancers, and she had to squint a bit to see them at all. A second figure turned to look at them, but the other three, busy packing up their open-frame roller transport, paid them no attention.
“
Is there anyone else still in the dome?
”
Koffield asked.
“
No, you
’
ll have it all to yourselves,
”
the man said.
“
We set up the last of the heaters and charges using remotes and Artlnts and robots. None of our team have been in the dome itself for a week now. Decontamination drills just got to be too much of a hassle. Maybe your crowd has the right idea. Stay inside until the blast.
”
“
The hell they do,
”
a second voice, a woman
’
s, replied.
“I’m
not gonna stand at ground zero for a bake-and-blow.
”
“
It shouldn
’
t be that bad,
”
the man said.
“
They put you through a standard blowout drill, brief you on what to do?
”
“
Yes,
”
said Norla.
“
We spent the last two days on that kind of thing.
”
“
Then you
’
ll be fine. Keep anchored and sheltered, go easy on your suit cooling, and there won
’
t be a thing to worry about.
”
“
Speaking of cooling,
”
the woman
’
s voice said,
“
we
’
ve already shut down the interior cooling on the dome. It
’
s middle of local afternoon now. The dome heaters won
’
t kick in at all until sunset. There might be a minor spike in the temp uptrend then. But when the SunSpot rises tomorrow, you
’
ll find out why they call it Greenhouse. With the SunSpot and the interior heaters going, the temps are going to climb like crazy, so be ready.
”
“
We will.
”
“
We
’
re going to blow the dome just after sunset tomorrow to get the widest temperature gradient possible,
”
the man
’
s voice said.
“
You be ready. This thing is
complicated,
a whole sequence that started weeks ago. We can
’
t stop it now if we
’
re going to blow the dome right.
”
“
Yeah, that
’
s for sure,
”
the woman agreed.
“
Sunflower is what happened back when we thought we could just abort a dome-blow and then just start over. Things went wrong. So we
’
re
not
doing that again. Clear?
”
“
We
’
re clear,
”
said Koffield.
“
And we
’
re out of here,
”
said the man. This time Norla was sure she could see him wave. He climbed aboard the transport, then helped the woman aboard.
“
So long,
”
he said,
“
and good luck.
”
“
Thank you,
”
said Koffield.
“
Farewell to you.
”
The transport started up, its rear wheels rooster-tailing a plume of dust up off the ground as the transport started off. It turned toward the southeast, moving quickly across the barren land. It took no more than a few seconds for it to be lost to view behind a low hill.
They started walking again, on the last leg of the journey.
The inner door of the lock came open. The three of them stepped into Founder
’
s Dome—and instantly understood why it had to die. A sealed habitat dome was supposed to be a controlled environment, but there was no part of Founder
’
s that was even remotely under control.
The three of them had indeed been briefed before going in, and it was plain to see that none of the briefers
’
horror stories had been exaggerated. Founder
’
s had started out as a crop development center, but had been converted into recreational space decades before. It was supposed to be parkland, but the manicured lawn and carefully tended glades had failed long ago. Uncontrolled organisms of every sort had invaded the dome. Mold and lichen covered virtually every surface. The trees that still survived were spindly, wretched things, barely capable of pushing out leaves. The ponds were covered by thick mats of brownish-green algae.
Roaches scuttled over everything, and termites were plainly at work in most of the trees, living and dead. But no other animals of any sort survived. The birds had been wiped out by a rogue virus months before. The fish had been simultaneously suffocated and poisoned as the algae sucked all the oxygen out of the water and excreted all manner of toxins, the same waterborne toxins that had done in the small mammals as well. Norla spotted a dead rat that seemed to have dropped in its tracks by the side of one small pond. Mold was growing on the fur of the rotting corpse.
Even the material of the dome itself had been corrupted. Some sort of slimy mildew had started to form on it. In some places the mildew was merely a thin, translucent layer, but in others it was several centimeters thick— so thick that it had started to buckle and peel off the dome under its own weight.