The Dark Lady

Heath.
    Kobrynski smiled. “If I had, you'd have received a lethal dose of radiation the instant you left your ship.” He paused. “But I've run it through the computer, and it tells me that it should work.”
    “Is it safe for us to stay on the planet while you're creating your plasma painting?” asked Heath.
    Kobrynski nodded. “The cabin is shielded against radiation.” He paused again. “If you've got protective suits in your ship, it might be a good idea to get them and bring them here to the cabin. I can dig up something for you — but I wouldn't know how to go about fitting him, ” he added, gesturing toward me.
    “I might as well get them right now,” said Heath, walking out the door.
    Kobrynski and I sat in silence for a few moments. Finally he sighed deeply.
    “For what it's worth,” he said, “I wish you weren't crazy.”
    “Oh?”
    “I've been lonely all my life.”
    “I thought humans did not mind being alone,” I said.
    “Don't you believe it, Leonardo,” he replied.
    “Then, if I may ask a personal question— ”
    “Just what do you think you've been asking?”
    “I apologize if I have offended you.”
    “I'm not offended, just embarrassed,” said Kobrynski. “And since it was my own answers that embarrassed me, I've got no one to blame but myself. Go ahead and ask your question.”
    “If you dislike being alone, why have you spent so much of your adult life in lonely pursuits?”
    He considered his answer for a moment.
    “I'll be damned if I know,” he said at last.
    He fell silent again, and a moment later Heath returned with our protective suits.
    “It's getting awfully hot out there. It must be close to 120 degrees.”
    “It's a dry heat, though,” said Kobrynski. “No humidity to speak of.”
    “Wet or dry, cooked meat is cooked meat,” said Heath.
    Kobrynski chuckled. “You should have been with me when I was hunting Horndemons on Ansard V. Then you'd appreciate a dry heat.”
    “I think I'll just take your word for it,” said Heath, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the perspiration from his face.
    “What subject are you going to paint tonight?” I asked.
    “I haven't decided,” replied Kobrynski. “I've done the preliminary work on half a dozen of them.”
    “Preliminary work?” I said.
    He smiled. “You've never seen a plasma painting, have you?”
    “No, I have not.”
    “You cast it into the sky, perhaps two miles above the ground,” he said. “On a cloudless planet like Solitaire, you can go as high as five miles, and fill the sky from horizon to horizon.” He paused. “With a celestial canvas that large, you can't paint the details piecemeal. You create the preliminary painting on that computer"— he pointed to one of his machines—"and then, when you're satisfied with it, that one"— he indicated a different computer—"analyzes it and determines how best to irradiate the atmosphere to create the effect you want. The other machines do the actual work.”
    “What colors can you produce?” asked Heath.
    “Everything from the ultraviolet into the infrared,” answered Kobrynski. “They're not opaque, mind you— you'd burn the world to a crisp. Besides, I like to see the stars shining through my creation.”
    “How long does it last?” inquired Heath.
    “It takes form in about a minute, and takes another ninety seconds to dissipate. It can maintain its complete integrity for perhaps thirty seconds.”
    “Forgive me for saying it,” said Heath, “but it seems to me that you're going to a lot of expense and trouble for an effect that lasts half a minute.”
    “No more than you're going to find a phantom,” replied Kobrynski. “And for the half minute that it lasts, I've done something proud, something no one else has done.”
    “May we see the subjects that are under consideration for this evening?” I asked.
    He shrugged. “Why not?”
    He activated the first computer with his voice, then ordered it to cast a hologram of his first subject in the air in front of us.
    It was an eerie alien landscape, with a blood-red river that lapped at the shores of a desolate bank, while skeletal, leafless trees leaned across the water at impossible angles.
    “Larabee IV,” said Kobrynski.
    “I've not heard of it,” said Heath.
    “It's out past the Quinellus Cluster. Strangest planet I've ever seen. There are only two colors: deep red and dark purple. Everything— rocks, water, vegetation— is either one or the