The Complete Stories_ Volume 1 - Isaac Asimov [194]
Aton 77 found his voice, and though it trembled with restrained emotion, the careful, somewhat pedantic phraseology, for which the famous astronomer was noted, did not abandon him.
'Sir,' he said, 'you display an infernal gall in coming to me with that impudent proposition of yours.' The husky telephotographer of the Observatory, Beenay 25, thrust a tongue's tip across dry lips and interposed nervously, 'Now, sir, after all --'
The director turned to him and lifted a white eyebrow.
'Do not interfere, Beenay. I will credit you with good intentions in bringing this man here; but I will tolerate no insubordination now.'
Theremon decided it was time to take a part. 'Director Aton, if you'll let me finish what I started saying, I think --'
'I don't believe, young man,' retorted Aton, 'that anything you could say now would count much as compared with your daily columns of these last two months. You have led a vast newspaper campaign against the efforts of myself and my colleagues to organize the world against the menace which it is now too late to avert. You have done your best with your highly personal attacks to make the staff of this Observatory objects of ridicule.'
The director lifted a copy of the Saro City Chronicle from the table and shook it at Theremon furiously.
'Even a person of your well-known impudence should have hesitated before coming to me with a request that he be allowed to cover today's events for his paper. Of all newsmen, you!'
Aton dashed the newspaper to the floor, strode to the window, and clasped his arms behind his back.
'You may leave,' he snapped over his shoulder. He stared moodily out at the skyline where Gamma, the brightest of the planet's six suns, was setting. It had already faded and yellowed into the horizon mists, and Aton knew he would never see it again as a sane man. He whirled. 'No, wait, come here!' He gestured peremptorily. I'll give you your story.'
The newsman had made no motion to leave, and now he approached the old man slowly. Aton gestured outward.
'Of the six suns, only Beta is left in the sky. Do you see it?'
The question was rather unnecessary. Beta was almost at zenith, its ruddy light flooding the landscape to an unusual orange as the brilliant rays of setting Gamma died. Beta was at aphelion. It was small; smaller than Theremon had ever seen it before, and for the moment it was undisputed ruler of Lagash's sky. Lagash's own sun. Alpha, the one about which it revolved, was at the antipodes, as were the two distant companion pairs. The red dwarf Beta --Alpha's immediate companion --was alone, grimly alone. Aton's upturned face flushed redly in the sunlight. 'In just under four hours,' he said, 'civilization, as we know it, comes to an end. It will do so because, as you see. Beta is the only sun in the sky.' He smiled grimly.
'Print that! There'll be no one to read it.'
'But if it turns out that four hours pass --and another four --and nothing happens?' asked Theremon softly.
'Don't let that worry you. Enough will happen.'
'Granted! And still --if nothing happens?'
For a second time, Beenay 25 spoke. 'Sir, I think you ought to listen to him.'
Theremon said, 'Put it to a vote, Director Aton.'
There was a stir among the remaining five members of the Observatory staff, who till now had maintained an attitude of wary neutrality.
'That,' stated Aton flatly, 'is not necessary.' He drew out his pocket watch. 'Since your good friend, Beenay, insists so urgently, I will give you five minutes. Talk away.'
'Good! Now, just what difference would it make if you allowed me to take down an eyewitness account of what's to come? If your prediction comes true, my presence won't hurt; for in that case my column would never be written. On the other hand, if nothing comes of it, you will just have to expect ridicule or worse. It would be wise to leave that ridicule