by Eric Flint
"I could make something to send a message back. Between me and Dr. Gupta, we could make one that wouldn't even need the relay satellite, and you couldn't stop us, either."
"No, I couldn't."
Jackie cocked her head a bit. "Not even going to try?"
"What's the point? You and Gupta are the engineers here, not me. I suppose if I was the security heavy some people find it comfortable to think I am, I could do something with blackmail, but that's not the way I work. I can't afford to damage the overall mission, either, don't forget. We need all the engineers and scientists we have to be working cooperatively. It's not like we'll get replacements any time soon."
The smile she gave Jackie was probably a little sad. "So I'll just have to rely on you not doing it because it wouldn't be very smart, in the long run."
Jackie nodded. "I can live with that." She headed for the exit. "Don't expect me at the meeting. I've got work to do."
After Jackie was gone, Madeline took a long, slow breath. Secord's attitude was a relief, from a professional standpoint. Trying to keep an engineer that skilled from circumventing her would have been almost impossible. And, unlike the voluble and undisciplined Baker, Secord was quite capable of carrying out a secret project and keeping it actually secret.
"Anyone else wish to vent their anger, or shall I expect it only at the meeting?"
"No," Ken Hathaway said in a tired voice that showed more than the usual trace of Southern drawl. "There won't be any more venting. And that's your captain speaking. If I have to, I'll impose military discipline on the ship. The truth is, if you hadn't turned A.J. into a damn good wallpaper imitation, I'd have had him tossed in the brig for laying a hand on you." He smiled wryly. "However… given the end result, it seems unnecessary. Not to mention that we're too damn busy to take time out to set up a brig in the first place. Somehow, the engineers forgot to include one in the design of the ship."
"Thank you, Captain. I do appreciate that."
He shrugged. "We'll get through this."
Joe headed for the door. She tried not to look like she wanted to say something to him, but he stopped anyway. "I understand," he said quietly, not looking at her. "But don't talk to me for a while."
"I disapprove of this very strongly, Miss Fathom," Gupta's voice rolled out. "The free exchange of information is absolutely critical to research of this nature. We have been chosen well, yes, but we are merely fifty, while on Earth there are billions. We are here to study the greatest mystery ever presented to mankind, and you want to hamper us at every turn."
"What I want, Dr. Gupta, is not at issue here. I have no choice or latitude in the matter. My directives are very clear. Discoveries of a potentially revolutionary military nature will be restricted in transmission to certain agencies, and to no others."
"You are being vague, Madeline-not like you at all," said Dr. Sakai. "To be precise, the 'certain agencies' you refer to are all agencies of the United States. I would remind you that a large percentage of the crew is not American and this is supposed to be an international expedition. Your country placed us here to give us access to these discoveries along with your own people."
"And you have no idea what a headache that gave us," Madeline said honestly. "Sometimes people outside the United States-and inside it, for that matter-make the mistake of thinking that there is a single, monolithic thing called the 'United States Government.' There is no such animal, beyond the formalities. It's an agglomeration of sometimes-allied, sometimes-opposed interests of all sorts and varieties with differing goals, ambitions, aims, and assigned responsibilities. The military and security groups wanted to keep Nike a purely American effort. The political groups had a very different set of priorities, and for those purposes decided to bring in some foreign nationals. They did not, however, see fit to change the security requirements. Squaring the circle being probably Washington's favorite pastime."
That brought a few chuckles. "The President sat firmly in the middle, as Presidents often do, and told both sides to follow their contradictory purposes. So here I am with a job I don't want to do, and that you don't want me to do, but that has to be done, and that is going to be done, and Captain Hathaway is backing me up on it."
"But this is idiotic!" Jane Mayhew's prim voice spoke up. "The political damage from not letting us talk will be potentially much worse than any temporary gain you'd make from this asinine so-called 'security.' We have no idea-neither do you-if our findings even indicate a room-temperature superconductor, much less how practical it would be to apply to military purposes. Whereas you can be assured that muzzling non-citizens of the U.S. will have definite repercussions." For a moment, her plump face looked startled. "Unless you're planning to arrange accidents for each of us, which I presume isn't in your agenda."
"God, no. This isn't a spy novel, it's a just typical political cluster-fu-ah, snafu. About as conspiratorial as kudzu, and just about as brainless."
Madeline drew a breath. "My job isn't to worry about the politics. My job is to control the flow of information, and I think it's an important job in this case. Don't underestimate yourselves-or play the hapless bumblers. The likelihood is that we are looking at such a superconductor, and given the track record of this group of scientists I'd say it's quite likely you'll discover at least enough about it to revolutionize that branch of science and technology. But leave all that aside. I'm not going to try to argue you into agreeing with me. Even if I could, it would take weeks."
"So," A. J. said from the front row, "what do you want us to do?"
"Not turn this into an all-out war," she said bluntly. "You'll be free to lodge all the complaints you want when we get back. I'm not going to stop you from doing research. I'm not going to try to prevent you from exchanging information with each other. I know that would be impossible and would destroy the effectiveness of the mission, even if it weren't. You send me the information you want to send out. Don't try to evade me or make new ways around it. I decide if and how to send it.
"In the meantime," she held up her hand to forestall the rising mutters, "I will try to persuade my superiors-not General Deiderichs, but those who give me my orders-into reconsidering their position. But I will have absolutely no chance of doing that if you people don't cooperate to begin with. I know this business, people. It is what I have been doing for… well, a lot longer than I think most of you would believe. And one thing I know about the people I answer to is that if you push them hard, they push right back. If I can show them that you are cooperating but that there is a good and justifiable reason that continuing with my original mission will do more harm than good, they may be amenable to redefining my mission parameters. But if while I'm trying to negotiate they find that Nike has sprung major leaks, they'll tell me to crack down hard, and we'll be in a much worse position than we are now."
She was putting every bit of persuasion she could into her tone. "Please, all of you. I don't like this any more than you do, and I know how much it grates on your ingrained habits and customs. But I need your cooperation, if not direct help, in finding the best possible compromise."
She fell silent. Saying anything more would be counterproductive.
Finally, Dr. Gupta rose. "As you say, Miss Fathom, this is a most unpleasant situation. Yet I am not entirely unfamiliar with the demands of politics. You have tried to be helpful in other areas. Though some here may doubt it, I believe you are trying to be honest with us now. For my part, then, I am willing to cooperate. In the end it will all come out, and so it is in your best interest to try to convince your superiors of the terribly grave mistake they are making."
There was a murmur at that. Madeline relaxed, though she didn't show it outwardly. Everyone respected Captain Hathaway, and there wasn't any doubt that A.J. and Helen, due to their unique connections with the mission, carried considerable weight also. But, in her estimate, the charismatic Dr. Gupta was now, politically speaking, the most important person on board. Although he was a nationalized
&
nbsp; U.S. citizen, his Indian origins made him something of a spokesman for the members of the crew who were from other countries.
"K'so," Dr. Sakai muttered. "Saa, let us all agree, then. I, too, shall cooperate with you, Miss Fathom. It is not a pleasure, but I also see worse consequences from the continued argument."
"I don't believe this!" Barbara Meyer hissed. "We're going to let this fascist little-"
"Enough, Barb," Ken Hathaway said firmly. "Ms. Fathom hasn't been calling anyone names, so don't you start either." That was enough to forestall Meyer's gathering temper tantrum.
The Australian woman was still agitated, but she was also clearly a little embarrassed by her outburst.
A.J. stood. "You all know me, and you all know that I believe in censorship about as much as I believe in the Tooth Fairy. But I'm going to be working with Ms. Fathom on this one. Or, at least, not trying to work against her. Sure, I'm pissed. But we've still got a job to do here, and we're not going to get it done if we start playing 'Spy versus Spy.' I don't know about you people, but I came here to study Phobos and the resident aliens."
Helen nodded. Barbara looked like her face would crack from tension, then suddenly she shrugged. "Okay, fine. I'm in. Might as well all sink together. And you're right, A.J., I've got a lot to work on."
With that an invisible dam broke, and the murmurs were accepting, resigned, but no longer threatening and ugly. Madeline did relax visibly then, letting herself look smaller and more vulnerable. The group would be predisposed for the moment to look upon her as at least partially a fellow victim. It was even true, as far as it went.
"Thank you all," she said softly. "I will try to intrude upon you as little as possible."
She leaned back and let Hathaway take center stage, giving the directions he had in mind to ensure proper information flow without violating Madeline's requirements.
Once, during the rest of the meeting, she looked at Joe. His eyes met hers, but only briefly. The expression on his face was as unreadable as a Bemmie noteplaque.
She'd won a victory, but it tasted like ashes in her mouth. A month had passed since she'd opened up her personal history to Joe. In the time that followed, they'd seen each other every day and spent many hours in conversation. No further physical contact had occurred. Madeline hadn't felt ready for it, and Joe had carefully respected her feelings. But, under the surface, she'd felt the attraction just growing and growing-and knew that it was reciprocated.
Just two days ago, she'd finally accepted that it had been the happiest month of her life. And now… It was over. For the first time since she was ten years old, Madeline Fathom wished she had a different profession.
Eric Flint Ryk E. Spoor
Boundary
Chapter 37
"Ms. Fathom," A.J. said, "would you please join us in Phobos Conference Room?"
Madeline's voice replied a moment later. "With that level of formality, I suppose I must."
"I think you'll want to."
The past week had been uncomfortable for everyone. So far, no one had tried to get around the deal that had been struck at the meeting. But it was clear that many of them considered it to be a deal with the devil, and didn't go to any trouble to hide that attitude when Madeline was around. Room temperatures appeared to drop by ten degrees whenever she entered a room, with a few exceptions. Even those who appeared to have accepted the situation without particular rancor, like A.J., didn't seem inclined to let her off the hook she'd hung herself on.
And Joe was still avoiding her.
"On my way."
Fortunately she was already on Phobos. If she'd been on Nike it would've been a matter of hours to get there. She drifted down the newly sealed hallway towards the conference area.
Madeline raised an eyebrow as she entered, seeing not just A.J. but Captain Hathaway, Helen, Rich Skibow and Jane Mayhew sitting around the conference table. Hanging onto it, it might be better to say-the term "sitting" meant little in microgravity.
Helen gave her a smile. Somewhat to Madeline's surprise, since she knew that Helen's attitudes concerning intellectual secrecy were every bit as firm as those of most of the scientists, the paleontologist had been one of the very few members of the scientific staff on Nike who had been just as friendly to her since that meeting as she'd been before.
Madeline suspected that Helen's attitude stemmed from her own life's experience. Us girls gotta stick together, for lack of a better expression. The deep-seated, gut reaction of a woman who'd fought her way to the top in a male profession, seeing another woman in the same position come under pressure.
She'd even learned, from a somewhat amused Jackie Secord, that Helen had been so furious at A.J. when she learned of his behavior at the initial fracas that she'd verbally stripped his hide off-too bad she didn't BREAK your fucking arm, you stinking bully!-and then made him sleep on the couch for the next several days.
Madeline felt a little guilty about that. The truth was that A.J.'s grab at her had been more in the way of an angry reflex than a serious attempt to attack her. Madeline could have easily just fended it off. The real reason she'd chosen-as Ken Hathaway put it-to use
A.J. for wallpaper hadn't been self-defense, it had been to make a point as forcefully as possible. So, readily, Madeline returned the smile. And, as she always did whenever Helen was around, felt more relaxed.
"Quite a grouping. What's so important?"
"We think we've made a discovery that rather changes our entire outlook on these people and what they were doing here," Jane said without preamble. "You will recall, I think, that in our attempts to translate the language of Bemmius secordii we found certain symbols and words which we believed to represent 'craters'?"
"Yes. I think by now I could even sketch the symbols. And you found that they'd already labeled the dinosaur-killer crater, too. Chix-whatever. I can never pronounce that name correctly."
"Yeah," A.J. said. "And, you know, that bothered me. For quite a while. The problem with it was a matter of the probabilities involved. Improbabilities, rather. First, look at the timing. If we're right, within days of the disaster that killed Bemmie and helped finish off the dinosaurs, something else hit this base-inside or outside-and killed off everyone inside, or at least a lot of someones. That's a pretty funky coincidence, isn't it?"
"Well, yes, but…"
"Wait up, there's more. Something about the whole situation bothered me, so I went to talk to our astrophysicists.
"These Bemmie guys crossed a hell of a lot of space to find this solar system, right? And they brought enough stuff with them to carve out bases in asteroids and apparently explore at least parts of two planets and other parts of the Solar System. Either they had some magic space-drive technology we don't even have the words for, or they used some kind of tech we can imagine. If the latter, the only methods we know of would require lots of energy. Lots and lots and lots of energy. Which means they'd be past masters of knowing how to 'watch the skies,' so to speak, for dangerous stuff."
A.J. loved dramatics, and Madeline didn't begrudge him the habit. So she waited patiently for him to get to the point. At least, with A.J., there almost always was a point. Eventually.
"So what the hell are the odds that they wouldn't see a friggin' asteroid long, long before it approached a planet they were studying? And that they also couldn't do something to stop it?"
Madeline frowned. "You're saying that either the impact shouldn't have happened, or that Bemmie shouldn't have been on the planet when it did hit."
"Bingo. And then we get to Joe and Harry's little room. Well, big room."
"The firing range?"
"Yes," Rich Skibow said. "Joe and the engineering department went over that area very carefully, given its potential for military significance. Since there wasn't all that much written material in the location, they didn't call me or Jane in for quite a while. But when they did, we noticed something immediately."
On the wall screen, a picture popped up of a storage
bin. On the bin were a series of markings, ones that looked somehow familiar. Another bin or chute had other markings, some of them the same. One of the images from the back wall areas, downrange from the shooting booths, was shown; again, alien script, some of the markings identical to the other two.
Then the image of the Earth map appeared; at the crater site, among other markings, the same sequence.
"We no longer believe that this sequence of symbols represents a word meaning either 'crater' or 'site of interest," Jane Mayhew said. "Based on their occurrence on the firing range in the locations they were found and their association with certain objects, it is now our professional opinion that we have found a far superior and much more likely translation for this word.
"The word is target."
For a moment, Madeline couldn't quite take it in. "Target?"
Then it connected. "They were using asteroids as missiles! But what were they shooting at?" A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Hey, this may sound crazy, but could it be that it really was a literal 'dinosaur killer'-that some kind of dinosaur might have had a civilization and they were bombarding the planet?"
"Nice idea, and I thought of that one too," A.J. said. "But Helen says-"
"It's completely out of the question," Helen stated firmly. "For a number of reasons. The main one is that if a civilization large enough to be interesting or threatening to something like Bemmius existed on Earth at that time, we'd have found traces of it by now. Lots of traces. Consider the fact that we found traces of high tech around the original Bemmie, and he was just one fossil of one visiting technological race. I suppose a fantasy writer might be able to come up with some explanation as to how the entire fossil record could be wrong or missing just those critical pieces of data, but no paleontologist would believe it for an instant.
"Second, to wipe out such a civilization would almost certainly take a lot more than just one major bolide, unless it was something several orders of magnitude bigger than the Chicxulub impact. But there's only one 'target' symbol on Earth, although there are a considerable number on Mars and a few on other bodies around the Solar System."
