The Dig

by Alan Dean Foster

  THE

  ALAN DEAN FOSTER

  Based on a story by Sean Clark WARNER BOOKS

  A Time Warner Company 1995 LucasArts Entertainment Company name and logo are registered trademarks of Warner Books, Inc.

  Warner Books, Inc., 1271 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 A Time Warner Company Printed in the United States of America Hardcover Printing: January 1996.

  design by H. Roberts

  To Steven Spielberg I waited forty years for those dinosaurs. Thanks.

  CHAPTER 1

  "It's a rock, Mr. President."

  Warren Lyon Fraser—father, philanthropist, scion of a wealthy Illinois merchant family and at present leader of the nominally Free World, glanced up absently from behind his desk. From behind the desk, Earle reminded himself. The Chief Executive was preoccupied, his thoughts on the Cabinet meeting scheduled for one o'clock and the state dinner being readied for the Spanish Premier.

  Knowing this in advance it was incumbent upon Earle, as chief science advisor to the White House, to couch his report in terms sufficiently strong to penetrate the social and diplomatic fog that permanently enveloped the President. That meant being straightforward and to the point while keeping complex scientific terminology to a minimum. Words had to be chosen for immediate impact as opposed to accuracy. Something had to be done about the situation, and done soon.

  While very much aware of the President's busy schedule, Earle had insisted on the meeting. The news was too important, the need for a prompt and appropriate response too critical, for the relevant information to wend its way to the Chief Executive by means of the usual ruthlessly distilled and bowdlerized written report. Not that Earle was a particularly forceful speaker, but there was no way he was going to try to convey these particular details through emotionless print or stammering underlings.

  No, not these details. They were too weighty. In every sense of the word.

  So he'd used every ounce of pull he possessed to get five minutes of the President's time, confident that when Fraser was made aware of the gravity of the situation, he would perk up and pay real attention. After all, what Earle had to say would instantly render irrelevant the most important state dinner or Cabinet meeting.

  "I take it you're referring to the 'object?" Fraser peered up at his science advisor out of kindly, heavily lidded eyes that seemed never to blink. "Staff has been whispering about it since yesterday, but I didn't see any point in wasting time on rumor and speculation. Thought I'd wait for the facts." The fingers of his right hand idly rotated a formal memo in slow circles, as if he were absently polishing the desktop.

  "I hope there aren't too many. Facts, that is. I've a partial Cabinet meeting in one hour. Nothing major; just the usual assortment of crises and catastrophes." Earle smiled politely as the President eyed the elegant brass clock on his desk. "It's just that I'd like to grab a bite to eat first."

  "Yes, sir." The Science Advisor wasn't intimidated. His briefings were usually delivered elsewhere in the White House, but he'd spent more than a little time in the Oval Office and was comfortable in its surroundings.

  "Well, come on, then, Willy. So it's a rock. What kind of rock? Big, small, purple ... what?" The President waited, expectant but impatient.

  Despite the prompting, Earle hesitated. Surely no similar report had ever been delivered in such august surroundings, with the portraits of other presidents gazing down critically. That was why it was so important for him to get it right the first time, to leave no room for uncertainty or equivocation.

  "It's about a mile in diameter, Mr. President. My colleagues would chide me for not using metrics, but the details of the final report are going to be in all the papers tomorrow, and that's a convenient size reference to use. Makes it easy to come to grips with it."

  "A mile-long rock," the President murmured. "Or asteroid, rather."

  "That's right, sir." Warren Lyon Fraser was no scientific sophisticate. His background and upbringing had been in business and politics. But you didn't get to be President of the United States without knowing a little something about everything. Or at least not without knowing how to fake it well.

  "An asteroid, sir, that's right. That's the problem."

  "I take it a mile in diameter is substantial, as asteroids go?"

  "Substantial enough, sir."

  "I'm beginning to get the feeling, both from what I've been hearing whispered around and now from your attitude, Willy, that this isn't going to be something I'm going to be allowed to ignore."

  "I'm afraid not, Mr. President." The Science Advisor's expression was solemn.

  Fraser sighed resignedly and leaned back in the thickly padded chair. It squeaked ever so slightly. "Why not?"

  "There are two problems with this particular asteroid, sir. The first is that nobody saw it coming. It's not big enough to announce itself boldly, but once it crossed the lunar orbit, it should have been picked up by half a dozen observatories, or at least a few of the hyperactive amateurs who do a lot of astronomy's dirty work."

  "And it wasn't?" the President inquired.

  "No, sir. It just kind of showed up. Solar objects don't play trick or treat. It's against the rules. This thing has broken a lot of rules. One minute the immediate terrestrial vicinity is empty and the next it's home to this rock. Somebody should have seen it coming long before it entered orbit."

  "So it's in orbit?" The President's interest was clearly piqued. "Don't these comets and such just go flashing past and then disappear?"

  "Normally that's just what happens, sir. But not this thing. It came barreling in at God knows what velocity, skimmed the outer atmosphere, and slowed down. Slowed down astonishingly fast, as a matter of fact. We're very interested in how that happened. Initial observations indicate that it's not a pallasite or—"

  "Excuse me, Willy?"

  "Sorry, sir. An exotic type of metallic meteorite. Preliminary analysis suggests that this one's composition is unremarkable, except for an occasional odd blip on isolated readouts."

  "I'm glad to hear it." The President had a wicked sense of humor, which he chose to display only in private. Earle had been the recipient of it on more than one occasion.

  "It's that occasional blip that has so many of my colleagues intrigued, sir. They wonder if it might explain why no one saw this particular rock coming. It's not just our people either. The Russians, the Japanese, the Europeans; they all missed it too."

  "Maybe it's just that nobody was looking in the right place at the right time."

  Earle nodded. "That's entirely possible, sir. In fact at the moment, that's the most reasonable explanation. Especially when you consider that it came in over the Antarctic. Unfortunately, that doesn't help us with the second problem."

  "It better be a big one." Fraser glanced significantly at the clock.

  Earle squirmed inwardly, wishing some of the big boys from Houston were there to back him up. None of them could spare the time, however. They were all working furiously on the Problem.

  "It's the orbit, sir. That's the trouble. It's a declining orbit. Rapidly declining, as a matter of fact. It really doesn't make any sense. Considering the speed at which the object must have entered the solar system, it should have zipped on past instead of letting itself be captured. The calculations..." He fumbled clumsily with the inside pocket of his jacket. "Here, sir: I sketched it all out for you. I thought it might make the situation a little easier to understand." He smiled hopefully. "You know: a picture's worth...?"

  Fraser straightened in his chair and took the drawing. With simple, straightforward lines it showed the Earth, the Moon, and a tight ellipse encircling the Earth. At the far point of the ellipse was a small dot.

  The President glanced up at his advisor. "This isn't the kind of orbit the
shuttles use, is it? Or any of our communications satellites?"

  "No, sir. Those would be near-perfect circles, each representing a stable orbit. See how extreme this one is?" Leaning forward, he touched the ellipse where it came nearest to Earth. "If something isn't done very soon, this asteroid's orbit will decay rapidly, and it will enter our atmosphere, at which point it will crash into the surface, either in one very large piece and many tiny ones or in a number of fairly large ones. Again, much depends on its composition." He straightened. "I'm told we'll have more accurate figures later this afternoon."

  Warren Fraser nodded slowly and rubbed his lower lip with the forefinger of his left hand. He no longer looked at the clock. The President of the United States, Earle noted absently, had hairy knuckles.

  "What happens then? Worst-case scenario, Willy."

  Earle considered. "I can't give you specifics, sir. No one can. Everything depends on the size of the pieces, their chemical makeup, and where they strike. If they come down in the vicinity of, say, Easter Island, we can expect possible tsunamis throughout the Pacific Basin. Middle of the Atlantic or Indian oceans, more of the same. If a lot of it burns up on entry, the effects could be minimal."

  "I see." The President's expression did not change. "What if these hypothetical pieces don't land in the middle of the ocean? What if a big chunk were to come down somewhere near here?"

  "Why, in that case, sir, no one would have to worry about which party is going to dominate the next session of Congress. Or any other phase of government, for that matter. Personally, I've always thought it would be more appropriate for the capital to be located in a more central location. Missouri, for example."

  "As bad as that," the President muttered.

  "Yes, sir, as bad as that. We might lose everything as far north as Philadelphia. Baltimore, certainly."

  "So much for waterfront redevelopment." Fraser stared evenly at his advisor. "There's no way you can predict where it will come down?"

  "No, sir. Nor in how many pieces, nor how big or small they'll he. Just that it's likely to make an awful mess of wherever it strikes. Remember, we've only been on this for less than twenty-four hours. The astronomy people have to coordinate observations with the chemists and so on. If it's mostly nickel-iron, well, that's not good. It means most of it's liable to come down in one piece. We don't have a lot of time."

  "But it could break up into small pieces, disintegrate on entry?"

  "Yes, sir. Though I don't see much of an advantage in being tagged by a shotgun as opposed to a rifle."

  The President grunted softly. "All right. So much for wishful thinking. What do we do about it? Is there anything we can do about it?" He was reaching for the phone. The phone that could command legions, or dollars. "I'm going to get on this myself. We'll appoint a top-flight committee—"

  "Please, sir." Earle put forward a restraining hand. "I'm afraid that the standard congressional speed of response isn't going to be adequate in this case. We have to do something right away."

  Fraser left the phone in its cradle and steepled his fingers. "You wouldn't talk like that unless there is something that can be done. Well, let's have it. I hope it won't cost too many votes."

  "Waiting is liable to cost voters, sir. Thousands of them." Earle swallowed. This was really why he'd sought the meeting with the President. Across the country, dozens of scientists and engineers were depending on him to sell the idea. He hoped he'd be able to. So far, it was the only idea.

  "Preliminary modeling suggests that it should be possible to adjust the asteroid's orbit, to nudge it into a stable position."

  "I see. I presume this can't be done by landing a few hundred players from the NFL on one side of the object and having them all jump up and down simultaneously?"

  Earle smiled, relieved that the President was able to find some levity in such a terribly serious situation. "No, sir." Now came the difficult part. "Actually, it would involve the use of low-level nuclear explosives. Calculations show that they could be placed—"

  Fraser interrupted. "Just a minute, Willy. Nuclear?"

  "I'm sorry, sir. I know how controversial this is going to be. But nukes are really the only things with enough kick to affect an object of this size. There are no alternatives. And it has to be precise. We don't want to bust this thing up. We just want to adjust its attitude."

  "I'm going to have the same problem with Congress. Nukes." The President shook his head slowly. "Can you see me going to a bunch of senators with this?"

  "You have to, sir. Tell them that if we don't, and don't do it fast, a number of representatives are liable to lose something more than a few votes. Like entire districts, for example."

  Fraser sighed. "All right. That's my job. If I can't get authorization, we'll have to do it by presidential decree. Assuming the procedure can be cleared, do we have anything suitable with which to do the work?"

  "We have very little experience with anything but weapons-grade nukes, Mr. President. But the Russians have been using them for decades and—"

  "Oh, wonderful. Congress is going to love this."

  "It's not as bad as all that, sir." Earle tried to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. "We've been sharing information with them for years, especially as regards long-term space missions."

  Fraser considered. "A cooperative enterprise could be useful to both sides." He smiled thinly. "It would also allow us to share the blame if this thing flops."

  "We've already been in contact with the appropriate people in Moscow and Khabarovsk. They assure us that not only can their devices do the job cleanly and on the first try but that they have the necessary kilo tonnage on hand."

  "These 'devices,'" the President murmured. "They'll fit on a shuttle? With no danger to the crew?"

  "Yes, sir. Fully shielded and ready to be armed. Actually, compared to some of the payloads we've been putting in orbit recently, this one will be comparatively small. I've scanned the schematics, and the mechanics are pretty basic. The Russians have always tried to keep things simple."

  The President's voice was soft. "It's a long way from using cherry bombs to blow up pop bottles on the Fourth. Used to do that when I was a kid. We won't be able to hide this one, Willy."

  "No, sir. Everyone will be watching. Everyone on the planet. We can do this, Mr. President. The Russians have the package, and we have the delivery system."

  "Can't we just shoot the 'package' up there and avoid exposing our people to the possible consequences?"

  "I'm afraid not, sir. In order for them to be maximally effective, the explosives have to be sited precisely on the asteroid's surface. It means a shuttle trip, matching orbits, hand placement. There's no getting around that."

  "I'll take your word for it, Willy."

  "It's not my word, Mr. President. Several hundred people have been working overtime to put this together. It's the best chance we have."

  Fraser was quiet for a long moment, gazing at something unseen. Eventually he looked again at his visitor. "You know what the hallmark of a successful politician is, Willy?"

  "No, sir." Earle forced himself to listen. The President had a tendency to ramble.

  "It's the ability to find some good even in the most godawful situation. For example, we're not talking the end of the world here."

  "No, sir," the Science Advisor murmured. "Only a meaningful portion of it."

  "That's right; encourage me. Our people are sure the Russian nukes will work?"

  "Reasonably sure, sir. In science nothing is certain. But they have used them before, to dig tunnels for canals and expose large, deep ore bodies, and they've refined them over the years."

  "Assuming they do, think of the possible benefits. It means that America can once again lay claim to being the world's savior. I realize that when I say something like that, it may sound unnecessarily cold to you, Willy, but as President I have to take everything into account. I do hope to be reelected in two years."

  "Of course, sir." Earle kept hi
s expression carefully neutral. In the previous election he had voted for Fraser's opponent.

  "Now, let me see if I understand something correctly. If this rock can be properly stabilized, it will go into more or less permanent orbit around the Earth?"

  "That's correct, sir."

  "Then we could use it to replace many of our existing communications and scientific satellites, couldn't we?"

  Earle smiled in what he hoped wasn't a patronizing manner. "Not entirely, sir. It would be a stable orbit but not a geosynchronous one. But it could serve as a useful base for many scientific programs. A cheap space station, and far larger than anything we could put up."

  The President was nodding approvingly. "Good enough. The Earth will acquire a second moon. With potential economic benefits."

  "Perhaps, sir. However, I don't think that should be our first priority."

  Fraser swiveled slightly in his chair. "You don't have to justify expenses to Congress, Willy. I do. Wait and see. If we go through with this, there'll be half a dozen senators insisting we claim the rock as U.S. territory. Then I'll have to mollify Kubiltov and his gang, and the Europeans will sulk, and ... well, you get the picture. There's more than science involved here."

  "Yes, sir." Earle was growing impatient. "However it's handled, sir, we need to move on this right away. Falling rocks know no politics."

  "Rocks and politics both involve leverage, Willy. You've worked in Washington long enough to know that."

  "I have, sir. I'm just trying to emphasize the need for speed in this matter. Every moment is important. If we wait too long, the asteroid's orbit will decay to the point where no amount of explosive, nuclear or otherwise, will be able to affect it."

  "I'll do the best I can, Willy. I promise I'll sign the necessary authorizations as soon as the Cabinet has been consulted. We'll clear this afternoon's agenda so we can deal with this. NASA will be the beneficiary of a presidential decree by five o'clock this evening." His eyes bored into the Science Advisor. "God help you, Willy, if your people are wrong about these nuclear explosives and they don't work properly."