"About ten and a half days," Joan was saying. "Maximum Stellar Velocity, of course."
"We'd save fuel if we cruised at normal S.V.," Paul said. "That'd only add another two days."
"Yeah, that way we'll have more time to look over the computer analysis of these transmissions," Jerry said. "We may be able to figure out what we've been picking up."
"But how can the computer translate it?" Mahree asked, as Joan instructed Desiree to change course and speed.
"It can't," Jerry said, "but it can analyze the signals and determine like ones.
That's the first step ... trying to isolate just how many separate signals there are, and how frequently they occur. If it's a language as opposed to some kind of code, the distribution is probably very random. I mean, look at the old Morse Code. In that, things broke down to either dots or dashes. Spoken language has incredible variety in comparison."
"What if it is a language?" Yoki asked.
"Then we may be able to begin translating it. After all, arch'eologists were able to translate dead languages, like those Egyptian hieroglyphics and the Mayan symbols."
"Any chance that what we're seeing has a visual as well as an audio component?" Mahree asked. "Like holovids?"
"It certainly is possible," Jerry told her, "but without some idea of what visual images those transmissions are supposed to translate into, we're out of luck."
"I see," Rob admitted. "Maybe we're better off just trying to analyze the transmissions in terms of whether they're spoken language, machine-generated, or code."
"Yeah. In three days we may be able to get some sense of that," Jerry said.
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Mahree sighed. "They made it look so easy in those movies ..."
"Can I talk to you a moment, Simon?" Rob Gable said quietly to the man seated by himself in the booth in Desiree's galley.
The older man hesitated. "Is it important?"
"Kind of. But if you're tied up, I can check back."
"How about later this evening?" Viorst asked.
"Depends," Rob said. "I'm meeting someone for dinner. If you're busy at the moment . ..." He knew very well that the Bio Officer was off-duty, but meeting with Simon was important enough that he'd be wil ing to cal Yoki and cancel if that's what it took to get Viorst to talk with him; he knew she'd understand.
The other man grimaced. "Hell, I suppose now's as good a time as any. You want to talk here?"
"Let's go down to hydroponics. I need to check on those seeds I've got germinating down there."
Viorst nodded curtly, and the two men left the galley. They walked in silence down the padded plas-steel corridors (this week they were a pale rose), until they reached the ladder-well to belowdecks, where the hydroponics system and the lower cargo holds were located. The artificial gravity was set at one-sixth gee in the well; both men swung down effortlessly, using only their hands.
When they reached the hydroponics labs, Rob went first to his seeds. After adjusting the moisture level in the germination incubator, he pulled up a stool and gestured the Bio Officer to another. "Have a seat, Simon."
The other man did so, plainly nervous. "What's going on? Why did you want to see me?"
"I just wanted to talk for a moment," Rob said, his voice consciously taking on the calm, neutral tone he had used during therapy sessions in med school. "So much-has been going on, these past couple of days, it's going to take all of us a while to get used to it. People tell me they're having trouble sleeping--so have I, matter of fact--so I'm trying to check on everyone. How about you, been experiencing any insomnia?"
Viorst shrugged. "I'm all right, I guess."
"Any nightmares?"
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The Bio Officer's green eyes shifted for a second. "No, nothing of the kind."
"Uh huh. Well, it wouldn't surprise me if you did. The possibility of a First Contact is pretty stressful, don't you think? Meeting people completely different from ourselves."
"You mean aliens, not people,'" Viorst said. "Whatever they are, they won't look like people."
Rob shrugged. "You're almost certainly right that they won't physically resemble us. But they may well be 'people' mentally and emotionally."
Viorst's well-cut features tightened. "Maybe, maybe not."
"What's the worst thing you can imagine an alien looking like?"
The Bio Officer considered for a moment. "Invisible, I guess. They could sneak up on you and you'd never know."
Rob blinked. "But it's possible that even invisible beings might not be antagonistic, isn't it?"
"I suppose so," Simon said, reluctantly. He hesitated for a moment, then burst out, "That's what you think, isn't it, Doc? That they'll be glad to see us, that everything will be peachy, right? Well, suppose it's not?"
"I don't know," Rob admitted. "But we'll never know unless we introduce ourselves, will we? And if they are people we'd rather not encounter again, we'll be able to warn Earth and the colonies to steer clear."
"If we live to tell them."
"It might be a good idea to jettison an E-beacon with a copy of the ship's log, before we enter their system," Rob said thoughtfully. "That would serve as a warning to any other Terran ships, if we're never heard from again."
"I think our best course would be to head for Earth and send back a trained expeditionary force--and a squadron of troops to back it up." The Bio Officer's eyes were flat and hard. "We're asking for trouble, barging in this way."
"I admit you have a lot of good arguments," Rob acknowledged. "But instead of concentrating on everything going wrong, why not spend half your time thinking about the possibility that this may be a positive experience? That we may meet creatures who have a lot to share, that we can learn from?"
"I'd like to think that," the Bio Officer sounded almost 37
wistful. "But if their outsides are different, it makes sense to me that their insides will be, too."
"Makes sense to me, too," Rob said, studying Viorst's eyes, his face and hands, but careful to keep his glance casual. "But different doesn't invariably mean different in a negative sense. Who knows? They might be nicer than we are."
Viorst considered the idea. "I suppose it's possible," he admitted reluctantly.
Rob smiled reassuringly. "I think perhaps you're getting a little anxious over all this, Simon, which isn't surprising . . . but worrying about something that hasn't happened--and may never happen--isn't very productive."
Viorst glared. "Don't patronize me, Doc. It's hard enough having to report to someone who looks as though he isn't even shaving, yet."
Rob took a slow, deep breath, reminding himself not to let Viorst get to him.
The man was frightened, and that was making him antagonistic. I ought to be used to cracks like that by now, he thought, with a trace of bitterness. "I'm sorry if it sounded like I was talking down to you," he said evenly. "I didn't intend that. Will you just promise me one thing?"
"What?"
"Think over what I said, okay? We'll talk again, soon. And, Simon, I want you to come to me if you don't get a good night's sleep tonight, and I'll give you a mild sedative to take tomorrow night. All right?"
"Okay, Doc."
Rob slid off the stool. "Thanks for talking."
Mahree groaned and rubbed her eyes. "I can't look at another orange squiggle without going blind. We've been at this for hours, and we're no closer to any answers than when we started!"
"She's right." Yoki stretched, her backbone creaking audibly. "Shit, maybe Joan's right, too. Maybe we've been getting signals from intelligent black holes."
"We haven't wasted our time. Some of the programming we've adapted will prove useful later, after we get there," Jerry said. "You've got a real feel for this kind of work, Mahree. How about helping me tomorrow when I try and set up a catalogue of universal constants?"
"Sure," Mahree said, pleased with the praise. Jerry never 38
said such things lightly. "I just hope we'll get further than we did with thes
e transmissions." "We will."
"But we have made progress," Rob pointed out. "We're almost certain that each transmission was made by a different voice. And the computer has recorded nearly five hundred perfect matches. Some of the matches represent sequences that are repeated many times within each
transmission."
"So?" Yoki raised her eyebrows at him. "Tell me what good it's going to do us to be able to identify the alien equivalent of 'and,' 'the,' 'but,' and 'for.' Let's face it, Rob, these people are just going to have to remain an unknown quantity until we reach their world and contact them in person."
"Well, at least we're sure that we're dealing with a language instead of a machine-generated message or a code." Rob sighed, digging wearily at his own eyes. "Too much repetition and too much variety for it to be anything else."
"It is by any human standard," Jerry reminded him gloomily. "We don't have any way of knowing how sophisticated their machines are. We can only judge them in comparison to our own."
"Compared to this stuff, history and physics are wildly exciting. Maybe I ought to go study for a while to wake myself up," Mahree said. She tried unsuccessfully to smother a yawn, then burst into shrill giggles when the others reflexively copied her. "Sekhmet has the right idea," she added, stroking the cat, who lay sprawled over half the flimsies, asleep.
The animal began purring. Wish I could be that relaxed, Mahree thought confusedly, feeling tears suddenly threaten. She blinked furiously. What's wrong with me? A moment ago I could barely stop laughing, and now I'm ready to cry.
"We all need sleep," Rob admitted. "The tension is getting to everyone.
Evelyn Maitland came to me yesterday and asked to be put back into hibernation. She said that if we screwed this up, she didn't want anyone blaming her!"
"I had a dream last night," Mahree said haltingly, not looking up as she rubbed Sekhmet's jawline. The purr grew louder, more rasping. "I dreamed we got there, and somehow we'd made a terrible error and recorded the transmissions backward, and that was why we hadn't recognized them. It was all a mistake and
39
we'd just ended up on Earth. But there weren't any people there anymore. It was deserted . . . lifeless."
Nobody said anything for nearly a minute. Mahree glanced up to find them all staring at her, but then none of them except Rob would meet her eyes.
Her stomach turned over, and she bit her lip, reddening with embarrassment.
Yoki finally broke the silence. "Honey, why don't you get some sleep? We've all got the creeps, and that's natural enough in this situation, right, Rob?"
"Sure," he said, reaching over to drape Sekhmet over his shoulder. "I'll walk you back to your cabin."
When they reached the relative privacy of the corridor, Mahree burst out,
"Dammit, I shouldn't have said that! Now everyone's going to think I can't take it, that I'm losing it!"
Rob slung his free arm over her rigid shoulders. "No, they're not. You've held up better than any of us." He chuckled ruefully. "Just this morning I forgot I'd left my mirror on and nearly panicked when I came out of the head and caught a glimpse of myself. For a second my heart felt like it was coming straight out of my chest--then I felt like a jackass."
Mahree smiled wanly. "You're only saying that to cheer me up, but thanks anyway."
"No, I'm not. Last night I'd probably have had nightmares too, but I self-prescribed a sedative, and slept like the dead. No wonder I'm so groggy today. Over half the crew has asked for them, at least once."
"Really?" Mahree began to feel better. She was suddenly conscious of the warm weight of Rob's arm across her shoulders, the closeness of his body.
She felt herself blushing again.
"Here we are," he said a moment later, stopping before her little cabin.
"Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. Now I want you to march yourself straight to bed. No studying, no nothing, understand?" He gave her a mock-severe glance.
"Yes, Doctor," she said meekly.
He put two fingers under her chin and tipped her face up, his dark eyes studying her intently. Mahree caught her breath as their gazes locked. He's going to kiss me, she thought for a dizzy moment, then her common sense reasserted itself like a dash of icy water. No, of course he's not.
"Your color isn't good," he said, studying her. "And I don't 40
like the looks of those circles under your eyes. Seriously, do you need something to help you sleep?"
She swallowed. "No, I'll be fine." Even after he dropped his hand, Mahree found that she couldn't look away, that her eyes seemed determined to memorize the details of his face. The roughness beginning to darken his chin and jaw, the new lines etched around his eyes and mouth, the finger-combed dark curls. She felt a sudden, nearly irresistible urge to raise her hand and smooth his hair into place.
Stop it, she ordered herself, turning away with a jerk, abruptly afraid that he'd noticed--but his voice was unchanged. "Okay, if you're sure," he said. "
'Night Mahree."
"Good night," she said, letting the door slide shut behind her. She leaned against the wall until her heartbeat slowed and her stomach steadied, then took a deep breath, feeling drained. The green beans, she thought suddenly, I forgot to remind him that we have to rig the climbing strings tomorrow.
Quickly she left her cabin and headed back down the corridor toward his, her steps taking her along automatically. She was halfway there when she heard it: a woman's low, throaty murmuring, then a man's voice.
Rob's voice.
Mahree stopped in mid-stride, then cautiously tiptoed to the intersection and peered down the left corridor. She was just in time to see Yoki palm open the door to her cabin and disappear inside. Rob was only a half step behind her.
The door slid shut. Mahree heard the privacy lock activate with a small, distinct snick.
41
CHAPTER 4
Tempest Fidgit
Dear Diary: I hate him. I hate her. I don't want to talk about it!!!
"Pi, of course," said Jerry decisively. The Communications Chief and Mahree sat hunched over a table in the galley, the terminal on, but nearly obscured by printout flimsies. "That's comparatively easy for the computer to render with a holosketch. We can carry it out to fifteen or twenty places, so they can use that to cross-check their translation of our numbers."
"Pi was certainly the first concept I came up with," Mahree said. "But then I thought of a couple of others. 'Star,' 'planet,' 'moon'--we can demonstrate all of them by presenting a schematic of their own solar system."
"Of course!" Jerry's broad features creased into a grin. "And, more than that, we can probably do 'asteroid,' 'comet,' and maybe 'ring.' "
"Right. And those lead to 'orbit,' and 'year.' They're more abstract, but the computer should be able to illustrate them using a sequence of images."
"Another constant is the speed of light. But first we'll have to figure out their units of measurement."
Mahree nodded. "That brings us back to numbers. But we can 41
42
illustrate them with dots. You know, one dot beside the numeral one, two dots beside the numeral two, and so forth."
"I already thought of that," Jerry said, fumbling through flimsies to produce a sketch. "This what you meant?"
"Yeah, and we can just keep working our way up all the way to scientific notation."
"Providing their system has visual scanners."
"Ours does, so why shouldn't theirs?"
"Don't forget, Mahree, that all we've gotten from them so far are radio waves.
On Earth they produced radio waves from television broadcasts that escaped into space long before they had computers that were past the punch-card stage."
"I never thought of that." Mahree tapped her pen against her front teeth. "Can we represent going from the very large to the very smalll Show a star, then focus in on increasingly smaller portions of it until we depict a hydrogen atom? Then show the star converting that to heliu
m?"
"Possible. I'll see what the computer can come up with as a representation.
But probably before we do that, we ought to try the periodic table."
"We could do 'solar system' and 'galaxy,' " Mahree suggested a few minutes later. "Depending, of course, on how advanced their astronomical sciences are."
"They may know more about the universe than we do. We ought to think about chemical laws, also. Like PV = nRT . . . the equation for the perfect-gas law."
"What's that?" asked Rob Gable. The doctor had entered the galley so quietly the two at the table hadn't noticed him. "Something that results after consuming too many helpings of Ramon's refried beans?"
Mahree felt her cheeks grow hot at the sight of him, and struggled to regain her composure. "Very funny, Rob."
Jerry snorted disgustedly. "We're trying to get some serious work done here, Doc, so unless you want to help, keep it zipped. Remember your basic chemistry? The perfect-gas law is the equation of state for an ideal gas. It combines Boyle's law, Charles' law, and Avogadro's principle. Or don't you medical geniuses have to study that anymore?"
Rob ignored the jibe as he bent over to study the list they'd been compiling.
"Are these your constants?"
"So far," Jerry said. "You got any ideas?"
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"Give me ten minutes with one of them using the 'scope in the infirmary, and I might be able to give you some. DNA, RNA, maybe. Amino acids . . ."He thought for a moment. "If they have physical bodies that are even remotely like ours, then we can use those similarities. 'Eyes,' or 'legs,' for instance."
"I sure as hell hope they have physical bodies," Jerry growled. "How could we discover any common frame of reference with beings made out of pure energy?"
"Good question," Rob admitted.
"How much longer?" Mahree asked. She didn't have to specify what she was asking about.
"We should be entering System X in about thirty-six hours. We'd better get busy and finish this," Jerry said, frowning down at their list. He stared at the scribbled figures and sketches for nearly a minute, swore under his breath, then dug at his eyes. "Damn. I can't even think anymore. If I could only get eight peaceful hours in the sack first, I know my brain would start functioning again!"
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