Danchekker shook his head. "Not this particular one. As you can see, it has come to us in practically as good a condition as when it was alive. It was taken from that container in the background, in which it had been packed and preserved to keep for a long time. Fortunately, whoever packed it was an expert. However, as I said earlier, there were cages and pens in the ship that originally held live specimens, but by the time they were discovered they had deteriorated to skeletons condition, as had the crew. There were six of this particular species in the pens."
The professor changed the picture to show a small quadruped with spindly legs.
"Mesohippus-ancestor of the modern horse. About the size of a collie dog and walking on a three-toed foot with the center toe highly elongated, clearly foreshadowing the single-toed horse of today. There is a long list of other examples such as these, every one immediately recognizable to any student of early terrestrial life forms."
Speechless, Hunt and Caldwell continued to watch as the view changed once more. This time it showed something that at first sight suggested a medium-sized ape from the gibbon or chimpanzee family. Closer examination, however, revealed differences that set it apart from the general category of ape. The skull construction was lighter, especially in the area of the lower jaw, where the chin had receded back to fall almost below the tip of the nose. The arms were proportionately somewhat on the short side for an ape, the chest broader and flatter, and the legs longer and straighter. Also, the opposability of the big toe had gone.
Dancbekker allowed plenty of time for these points to register before continuing with his commentary.
"Clearly, the creature you now see before you belongs to the general anthropoid line that includes both man and the great apes. Now, remember, this specimen dates from around the early Miocene period. The most advanced anthropoid fossil from around that time so far found on Earth was discovered during the last century in East Africa and is known as Proconsul. Proconsul is generally accepted as representing a step forward from anything that had gone before, but he is definitely an ape. Here, on the other hand, we have a creature from the same period in time, but with distinctly more pronounced humanlike characteristics than Proconsul. In my opinion, this is an example of something that occupies a position corresponding to that of Proconsul, but on the other side of the split that occurred when man and ape went their own separate ways-in other words, a direct ancestor to the human line!" Danchekker concluded with a verbal flourish and gazed at the other two men expectantly. Caldwell stared back with widening eyes, and his jaw dropped as impossible thoughts raced through his mind.
"Are you telling… that the Charlie guys could have… from that?"
"Yes!" Danchekker snapped off the screen and swung back to face them triumphantly. "Established evolutionary theory is as sound as I’ve insisted all along. The notion that the Lunarians might have been colonists from Earth turns out indeed to be true, but not in the sense that was intended. There are no traces of their civilization to be found on Earth, because it never existed on Earth-but neither was it the product of any parallel process of evolution. The Lunarian civilization developed independently on Minerva from the same ancestral stock as we did and all other terrestrial vertebrates-from ancestors that were transported to Minerva, twenty-five million years ago, by the Ganymeans!" Danchekker thrust out his jaw defiantly and clasped the lapels of his jacket. "And that, Dr. Hunt, would seem to be the solution to your problem!"
Chapter Sixteen
The trail behind this rapid succession of new developments was by this time littered with the abandoned carcases of dead ideas. It reminded the scientists forcibly of the pitfalls that await the unwary when speculation is given too free a rein and imagination is allowed to float further and further aloft from the firm grounds of demonstrable proof and scientific rigor. The reaction against this tendency took the form of a generally cooler reception to Danchekker’s attempted abrupt wrapping up of the whole issue than might have been expected. So many blind alleys had been exhausted by now, that any new suggestion met with instinctive skepticism and demands for corroboration.
The discovery of early terrestrial animals on the Ganymean spaceship proved only one thing conclusively: that there were early terrestrial animals on the Ganymean spaceship. It didn’t prove beyond doubt that other consignments had reached Minerva safely, or indeed, that this particular consignment was ever intended for Minerva. For one thing, Jupiter seemed a strange place to find a ship that had been bound for Minerva from Earth. All it proved, therefore, was that this consignment hadn’t got to wherever it was supposed to go.
Danchekker’s conclusions regarding the origins of the Ganymeans, however, were fully endorsed by a committee of experts on comparative anatomy in London, who confirmed the affinity between the Ganymean skeleton and the Minervan fish. The corollary to this deduction-that the Lunarians too had evolved on Minerva from displaced terrestrial stock-although neatly accounting for the absence of Lunarian traces on Earth and for the evident lack of advanced Lunarian space technology, required a lot more in the way of substantiating evidence.
In the meantime, Linguistics had been busy applying their newfound knowledge from the microdot library to the last unsolved riddle among Charlie’s papers, the notebook containing the handwritten entries. The story that emerged provided vivid confirmation of the broad picture already deduced in cold and objective terms by Hunt and Steinfield; it was an account of the last days of Charlie’s life. The revelations from the book lobbed yet another intellectual grenade in among the already disarrayed ranks of the investigators. But it was Hunt who finally pulled the pin.
Clasping a folder of loose papers beneath his arm, Hunt strolled along the main corridor of the thirteenth floor of the Navcomms Headquarters building, toward the Linguistics section. Outside Don Maddson’s office he stopped to examine with curiosity a sign bearing a string of two-inch-high Lunarian characters that had been pinned to the door. Shrugging and shaking his head, he entered the room. Inside, Maddson and one of his assistants were sitting in front of the perpetual pile of litter on the large side table away from the desk. Hunt pulled up a chair and joined them.
"You’ve been through the translations," Maddson observed, noting the contents of the folder as Hunt began arranging them on the table.
Hunt nodded. "Very interesting, this. There are a few points I’d like to go over just to make sure I’ve got it straight. Some parts just don’t make sense."
"We should’ve guessed," Maddson sighed resignedly. "Okay, shoot."
"Let’s work through the entries in sequence," Hunt suggested. "I’ll stop when we get to the odd bits. By the way…" He inclined his head in the direction of the door. "What’s the funny sign outside?"
Maddson grinned proudly. "It’s my name in Lunarian. Literally it means Scholar Crazy-Boy. Get it? Don Mad-Son. See?"
"Oh, Christ," Hunt groaned. He returned his attention to the papers.
"You’ve expressed the Lunarian-dated entries simply as consecutive numbers starting at Day One, but subdivisions of their day are converted into our hours."
"Check," Maddson confirmed. "Also, where there’s doubt about the accuracy of the translation, the phrase is put in parentheses with a question mark. That helps keep things simple."
Hunt selected his first sheet. "Okay," he said. "Let’s start at the beginning." He read aloud:
"Day One. As expected, today we received full (mobilization alert?) orders. Probably means a posting somewhere. Koriel
"This is Charlie’s pal who turns up later, isn’t it?"
"Correct."
"thinks it could be to one of the (ice nests far-intercept?).
"What’s that?"
"That’s an awkward one," Maddson replied. "It’s a composite word; that’s the literal translation. We think it could refer to a missile battery forming part of an outer defense perimeter, located out on the ice sheets."
"Mmm-sounds reasonable. Anyhow, Hope so. It would be a change to get away
from the monotony of this place. Bigger food ration in (ice-field combat zones?). Now…" Hunt looked up. "He says, ‘the monotony of this place.’ How sure are we that we know where ‘this place’ is?"
"Pretty sure," Maddson replied with a firm nod. "The name of a town is written above the date at the top of the entry. It checks with the name of a coastal town on Cerios and also with the place given in his pay book for his last posting but one."
"So you’re sure he was on Minerva when he wrote this?"
"Sure, we’re sure."
"Okay. I’ll skip the next bit that talks about personal thoughts.
"Day Two. Koriel’s hunches have proved wrong for once. We’re going to Luna."
Hunt looked up again, evidently considering this part important. "How do you know he means Earth’s Moon there?"
"Well, one reason is that the word he uses there is the same as the last place the pay book says he was posted to. We guess it means Luna because that’s where we found him. Another reason is that later on, as you’ll have read, he talks about being sent specifically to a base called Seltar. Now, we’ve found a reference among some of the things turned up on Farside to a list of bases on place ‘X,’ and the name Seltar appears on the list. X is the same word that is written in the pay book and in the entry you’ve just read. Implication: X is a Lunarian name for Earth’s Moon."
Hunt thought hard for a while.
"He arrived at Seltar, too, didn’t he?" he said at last. "So if he knew where he was being sent as early as that, and you’re certain he was being sent to the Moon, and he got where he was supposed to go… that rules out the other possibility that occurred to me. There’s no way he could have been scheduled for Luna but rerouted somewhere else at the last minute without the entry in the pay book being changed, is there?"
Maddson shook his head. "No way. Why’d you want to make up things like that anyhow?"
"Because I’m looking for ways to get around what comes later. It gets crazy."
Maddson looked at Hunt curiously but suppressed his question. Hunt looked down at the papers again.
"Days Three and Four describe news reports of the fighting on Minerva. Obviously a large-scale conflict had already broken out there. It looks as if nuclear weapons were being used by then-that bit near the end of Day Four, for instance: It looks like the Lambians have succeeded in confusing the (sky nets?) over Paverol-That’s a Cerian town, isn’t it? Over half the city vaporized instantly. That doesn’t sound like a limited skirmish. What’s a sky net-some kind of electronic defense screen?"
"Probably," Maddson agreed.
"Day Five he spent helping to load the ships. From the descriptions of the vehicles and equipment, it sounds as if they were embarking a large military force of some kind." Hunt scanned rapidly down the next sheet. "Ah, yes-this is where he mentions Seltar. We’re going with the Fourteenth Brigade to join the Annihilator emplacement at Seltar. There’s something crazy about this Annihilator. But we’ll come back to that in a minute.
"Day Seven. Embarked four hours ago as scheduled. Still sitting here. Takeoff delayed, since whole area under heavy missile attack. Hills inland all on fire. Launching pits intact but situation overhead confused. Unneutralized Lambian satellites still covering our flight path.
"Later. Received clearance for takeoff suddenly, and the whole flight was away in minutes. Didn’t delay in planetary orbit at all-still not very healthy-so set course at once. Two ships reported lost on the way up. Koriel is taking bets on how many ships from our flight touch down on Luna. We’re flying inside a tight defense screen but must stand out clearly on Lambian search radars. There’s a bit about Koriel flirting with one of the girls from a signals unit-quite a character, this Koriel, wasn’t he…? More war news received en route… Now-this is the part I meant." Hunt found the entry with his finger.
"Day Eight. In Lunar orbit at last!" He laid the sheet down on the table and looked from one linguist to the other. "‘In Lunar orbit at last.’ Now, you tell me: Exactly how did that ship travel from Minerva to our Moon in under two of our days? Either there is some form of propulsion that UNSA ought to be finding out about, or we’ve been very wrong about Lunarian technology all along. But it doesn’t fit. If they could do that, they didn’t have any problem about developing space flight; they were way ahead of us. But I don’t believe it-everything says they had a problem."
Maddson made a show of helplessness. He knew it was crazy. Hunt looked inquiringly at Maddson’s assistant, who merely shrugged and pulled a face.
"You’re sure he means Lunar orbit-our Moon?"
"We’re sure." Maddson was sure.
"And there’s no doubt about the date he shipped out?" Hunt persisted.
"The embarkation date is stamped in the pay book, and it checks with the date of the entry that says he shipped out. And don’t forget the wording on Day-where was it?-here, Day Seven. ‘Embarked four hours ago as scheduled’- See, ‘as scheduled.’ No suggestion of a change in timetable."
"And how certain is the date he reached Luna?" asked Hunt.
"Well that’s a little more difficult. Just going by the dates of the notes, they’re one Lunarian day apart, all right. Now, it’s possible that he used a Minervan time scale on Minerva, but switched to some local system when he got to Luna. If so, it’s a big coincidence that they tally like they do, but"-he shrugged-"it’s possible. The thing that bothers me about that idea, though, is the absence of any entries between the ship-out date and the arrival-at-Luna date. Charlie seems to have written his diary regularly. If the voyage took months, like you’re saying it should have, it looks funny to me that there’s nothing at all between those dates. It’s not as if he’d have been short of free time."
Hunt reflected for a few moments on these possibilities. Then he said, "There’s worse to come. Let’s press on for now." He picked up the notes and resumed:
"Landed at last, five hours ago. (Expletive) what a mess! The landscape below as we came in on the (approach run?) was glowing red in places all around Seltar for miles. There were lakes of molten rock, bright orange, some with walls of rocks plunging straight into them where whole mountains have been blown away. The base is covered deep in dust, and some of the surface installations have been crushed by flying debris. The defenses are holding out, but the outer perimeter is (torn to shreds?). Most important-[unreadable] diameter dish of the Annihilator is intact and it is operational. The last group of ships in our flight was wiped out by an enemy strike coming in from deep space. Koriel has been collecting on all sides."
Hunt laid the paper down and looked at Maddson. "Don," he said, "how much have you been able to piece together about this Annihilator thing?"
"It was a kind of superweapon. There was more information in some of the other texts. Both sides had them, sited on Minerva itself and, from what you’re reading right now, on Luna too." He added as an afterthought, "Maybe on other places as well."
"Why on Luna? Any ideas?"
"Our guess is that the Cerians and the Lambians must have developed space-fight technology further than we thought," Maddson said. "Perhaps both sides had selected Earth as their target destination for the big move, and they both sent advance parties to Luna to set up a bridgehead and… protect the investment."
"Why not on Earth itself, then?"
"I dunno."
"Let’s stick with it for now, anyway," Hunt said. "How much do we know about what these Annihilators were?"
"From the description dish, apparently it was some kind of radiation projector. From other clues, they fired a high-energy photon beam probably produced by intense matter-antimatter reaction. If so, the term Annihilator is particularly apt; it carries a double meaning."
"Okay." Hunt nodded. "That’s what I thought. Now it goes silly." He consulted his notes. "Day Nine they were getting organized and repairing battle damage. What about Day Ten, then, eh?" He resumed reading:
"Day Ten. Annihilator used for the first time today. Three fifteen-minute blas
ts aimed at Calvares, Paneris, and Sellidorn. Now, they’re all Lambian cities, right?
"So they have this Annihilator emplacement, sitting on our Moon, happily picking off cities on the surface of Minerva?"
"Looks like it," Maddson agreed. He didn’t look very happy. "Well, I don’t believe it," Hunt declared firmly. "I don’t believe they had the ability to register a weapon that accurately over that distance, and even if they could, I don’t believe they could have held the beam narrow enough not to have burned up the whole planet. And I don’t believe the power density at that range could have been high enough to do any damage at all." He looked at Maddson imploringly. "Christ, if they had technology like that, they wouldn’t have been trying to perfect interplanetary travel-they’d have been all over the bloody Galaxy!"
Maddson gestured wide with his arms. "I just translate what the words tell me. You figure it out."
"It goes completely daft in a minute," Hunt warned. "Where was I, now…?"
He continued to read aloud, describing the duel that developed between the Cerian Annihilator at Seltar and the last surviving Lambian emplacement on Minerva. With a weapon firing from far out in space and commanding the whole Minervan surface, the Cerians held the key that would decide the war. Destroying it was obviously the first priority of the Lambian forces and the prime objective of their own Annihilator on Minerva. The Annihilators required about one hour to recharge between firings, and Charlie’s notes conveyed vividly the tension that built up in Seltar as they waited, knowing that an incoming blast could arrive at any second. All around Seltar the battle was building up to a frenzy as Lambian ground and space-borne forces hurled everything into knocking out Seltar before it could score on its distant target. The skill in operating the weapon lay in computing and compensating for the distortions induced in the aiming system by enemy electronic countermeasures. In one passage, Charlie detailed the effects of a near miss from Minerva that lasted for sixteen minutes, during which time it melted a range of mountains about fifteen miles from Seltar, including the Twenty-second and Nineteenth Armored Divisions and the Forty-fifth Tactical Missile Squadron that had been positioned there.
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