Echoes of an Alien Sky

by James P. Hogan

  Apart from naming Brysek, it was a reiteration of the arrangement that Kyal was already familiar with, and he had nothing to add. The International Space Authority was the umbrella organization under whose auspices the entire Earth Exploration Expedition was coordinated. It had been formed primarily for that purpose. Several months before, a reconnaissance survey team had landed at a site known as Triagon on the lunar Farside to investigate some strange constructions showing in pictures obtained from orbit. At first, the facility was thought to have been some kind of an observatory, perhaps located there because of the radio screening from Earth. But on closer examination, some of the forms suggested power focusing guides and concentrators of the kind used in space propulsion, which the Terrans were not supposed to have possessed. Kyal had long been looking for an excuse for an Earth trip, and although his name would certainly have carried weight had he chosen to push, his line of specialization had given little reason to justify it; on the contrary, it provided plenty of pressing commitments to keep him on Venus. But the Triagon findings changed all that, and suddenly made him an obvious choice. Yorim had needed no second asking, and they had concluded the bureaucratic procedures barely in time to join the next ship heading out. Since then, the original ISA survey team had been moved on to other things, leaving the group that Sherven had described to carry out exploratory excavations and generally prepare things for Kyal and Yorim's arrival.

  Sherven sat back in his chair and rubbed the center of his forehead with a fingertip, as if giving Kyal a moment longer to consider any further business details. Then he resumed in a different tone, "As I said, it's going to get busy. But before we plunge you in, you're due some time out to acclimatize and relax after the voyage. Most new arrivals here are eager to get down to the surface and see something of Earth. I assume that would be the case with you also, yes?"

  Although Kyal was more than curious to see what was at Triagon, the pull to set foot on the world that had captivated his imagination all these years was stronger. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

  "A week before you go on to Luna. That's a local Terran week, measured their way as seven days. We use local time cycles, so you might as well get used to them. I'd recommend going down to Rhombus. It's a good location for getting to anywhere else that takes your fancy."

  Kyal had no problem with that. "Sure," he agreed. "If we can afford the time."

  A thin smile warmed Sherven's features. "Oh, that moon has been there for a while now. I can't see that a week is going to make much difference."

  "Then . . . fine. When?"

  Sherven bunched his mouth briefly. "Why not later today—if that's agreeable? A week isn't that long a time. Why waste any of it?"

  Kyal gestured to show that he could find no fault with that.

  "I didn't go ahead and set anything up beforehand, because I wasn't sure how you would want to play it," Sherven said. "Would you like us to find someone to show you around down there? Or would you rather make your own way? Communications are good everywhere these days."

  Kyal got the feeling that Sherven was probably operating with his staff and resources stretched to the limit, and that the offer was made as a courtesy. "There's no need to go to the trouble," he replied. "Fellow Zeestran and I are old friends. We'll manage fine on our own. As you say, there's plenty of help available if we find we need it." This time it was Sherven's turn not to be inclined to argue.

  "If I could just ask one thing in the meantime," Kyal said.

  Sherven spread his hands. "Please."

  "The forms of some of the Farside structures suggest functions that should require significant generating capacity. There wasn't any mention of the kinds of thing I'd have expected in the survey report, so during the voyage, out, I sent a request ahead to Deputy Director Casselo to have the ISA people carry out some deep sonar scans of the site while they were still there. He did so and beamed the results back to me. They show some interesting things." Kyal took his phone from his pocket and indicated one of the blank screens on the section of wall by the arch. "May I?"

  "Go ahead."

  Kyal used the phone to access a file in his work area on the general net and directed it onto the screen. It listed a set of images. Kyal selected several of the early ones and stepped through them. They showed a lunar landscape of gray dust and ridges under a black sky, with the cluster of domes, pylons, and other Terran constructions viewed from different directions. "Surface shots of Triagon," he commented. Sherven nodded. Damage was evident in certain places, but in the absence of weather or erosion, everything was preserved virtually unchanged.

  The next view was a schematic of a vertical cross section of the ground, with the forms of the constructions depicted recognizably on the surface. "Here's a vertical slice of the subsurface," Kyal said, although there was no need to. He entered some codes to superpose the results of the sonar scans, which he had analyzed while aboard the Melther Jorg. They appeared in reversed color as green patches indicating hollow spaces. Although the details were indistinct in places, the general pattern of rectangular forms in a regular array was unmistakable.

  "There is indeed a lot more to Triagon than what you see on the surface," Kyal said. "A whole complex of deeper levels that the ISA team never suspected."

  Sherven's eyes danced alertly over the image, taking in the details. "Interesting indeed," he pronounced. "Does it look like the kind of thing you'd expect?"

  Kyal frowned. "I'm not sure. It seems to consist of too many small spaces. And why so many levels? It doesn't look right. And it seems strange that the ISA people didn't find it. Why would a large power generating installation be hidden?

  "Hm. I see your point. It does seem odd, doesn't it?" Sherven agreed.

  "Maybe Brysek's people can do some deeper digging while they're waiting for us to arrive," Kyal suggested. "I can give them the precise locations. In fact, here they are." He added a second layer of superposition giving the details in red. "A week might not be so long. But as you yourself just said, Director Sherven, why waste it?"

  Sherven nodded. "Yes, of course. It will be done. I'll make sure that Borgan passes this information on, and has them make a start. You may forget the matter for now and enjoy your well-earned vacation."

  "I'm most grateful."

  Silence fell for a short while. On the far side of a gap outside, in the shadows at the base of a wall of windows and metal culminating in a turret bristling with antennas, Kyal noticed a group of figures in yellow EV suites restrained by safety tethers, floating around an opened housing. Sherven got up and moved to the window, standing for a while with his back to the room, hands clasped loosely behind him, as if prefacing a change of subject and allowing time for the mood to change. Evidently there was more.

  "There's a maintenance crew outside down there," he commented. "Looks as if they're doing something with one of the cosmic ray monitors."

  "Yes, I'd noticed."

  "Did you know I was a friend of your father's?"

  "To be honest, I hadn't, sir, until Deputy Director Casselo mentioned only now, over lunch."

  "The privilege was mine, to have known him. You have a first-class record of career background and credentials too, Master Reen. Every indication of being a solid, and reliable addition to the enterprise here. A piece of the old Jarnor Reen, without doubt. He would have been proud, I'm sure."

  The tone and use of the informal second person signaled a relaxing of protocols, inviting closeness and frankness. It was a gesture if trust from a senior rare for a first meeting. Kyal said nothing, wondering where this was leading. Sherven turned and moved back to the desk. He sat down again, picked up a blue file that had been lying with some papers to one side, and opened it to turn briefly through the top few sheets of its content.

  "About this Gallendian . . . Fellow of Applied Sciences, Electrogravitics, Yorim Zeestran." Sherven looked up. "He would appear to have, shall we say, a more volatile history and temperament. How much do you know about him?"
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  "I've worked with Yorim for over five years now, sir. I've always found him totally dependable. His scientific approach is first-class, with a solid grounding in engineering practice. I would trust him without reservation."

  "Hm. Very commendable," Sherven complimented. All the same, he didn't seem very happy. "I'll be frank. I wasn't in favor of this selection, you know. I went along with it on the strength of your own insistence—if that's not too strong a word—and out of respect for your father and his work. We are a small community, isolated and far from home, held together by dedication to our common goals. Maintaining an atmosphere of stability and harmony is one of the first imperatives to facilitate getting the work done." Sherven set the file down and leaned back in his chair, propping his elbows on the rests and steepling his fingers under his chin. "Nevertheless, signs of the radicalism that has been disturbing all facets of existence back home for some years are starting to make themselves felt here. I trust that I make myself clear."

  Kyal nodded that there was no need to spell anything out. Sherven was referring to a social-political movement known as the "Progressives" that was gaining ground internationally, particularly among younger elements of the population. Essentially, the Progressives were questioning the traditional pattern of letting social and professional institutions, and the organizations that dispensed learning structure themselves in whatever ways reflected the loyalties and recognitions of merit displayed by the individuals who composed them, rather than conform to any notions of hierarchy imposed from above. According to the Progressives, such reliance on the "emergent dynamic"—to use the term employed by those who studied such matters—was wasteful and inefficient, and discriminated against people who were not gifted with popularity or a flair for attracting professional support. Stronger coordination and control, under the direction of more clearly designated authority, would, they contended, not only produce results faster and more efficiently, but broaden opportunity by making appointment and advancement more accessible to those judged to be deserving than being left to chance and whim.

  Sherven went on, "You colleague has the kind of profile that one can't help speculating might lead him to become active in such a respect here." He indicated the file briefly. "For instance, did you know that he helped run a college newspaper that made a case for panels of scientific peers having a say in what kind of research ought to be published and funded? The piece argued that only specialists are fit to decide within their own discipline." Sherven shrugged as if nothin further needed to be said. "We all know that by the time experts qualify as professors, they're likely to have become walled in by their assumptions and lost their ability to think creatively. I'm not saying that Zeestran wrote it, but it gives and indication, perhaps, of the direction his inclinations point in." It sounded like Yorim, sure enough, Kyal thought. But you had to know him to understand that he was about as far from being driven by ideology as it was possible to get, and would happily take either side of any argument just to test the reactions. Sherven's brow creased. "He was also mixed up at one time with a political advocacy group that seemed to think that matters of private relationships should be coercively regulated by the state, and that a standardized code of personal ethics should be included in the educational curriculum."

  Kyal couldn't mistake the thinly veiled hint that such an association might not have the most desirable effects on those whose reactions might affect his own image and prospects. One of the unfortunate things of life was that what drove events was not reality but people's perceptions of it. Sherven was just doing his job and trying to honor a loyalty.

  "I appreciate the Director's candor," Kyal replied. "And I understand your concerns and responsibilities. However, from my own experience, I know Fellow Zeestram to be simply his own free person. He explores all of the world and is curious about everything. With all respect, I would regard the things you mentioned as due to that nature, rather than anything that should cause concern."

  Sherven gave Kyal a searching look and nodded finally, but still seeming dubious. "You do see my point? We have a vitally important mission to think of, far from home, with never enough people and slender resources. We can't afford the kind of agitation that we see in the news from back home. We don't bring people this distance to spend their time promoting disruptive agendas that have no place here. I trust that we can count on you to watch for any signs, and if necessary impress whatever cautions are necessary to nip them in the bud."

  "Of course." Kyal nodded that he understood.

  His own position on such matters was divided. On the one hand, who could disagree with the suggestion that more efficient use of resources in a harsh environment like that of Venus, and a fairer recognition of talents constituted desirable aims? He didn't see that concerted moves to bring about improvement could ever be a bad thing. At the same time, he couldn't deny holding a certain respect for the values enshrined in the traditional principles of open debate, freedom of individual choice, and in the end letting everyone follow the direction that their reason and their consciences dictated. Such things hadn't come to be accepted lightly, but only after generations of trial and experience. They shouldn't be thrown away lightly or impetuously either. It was the kind of attitude that Jarnor had brought to his science: using the tried and tested methods for as long as they seemed favored,, but not hesitating to abandon them when facts, evidence, and not uncommonly feelings and an indefinable intuition too, said the time had come to move on. It was also the way he lived his life—and no doubt, too, one of the strongest influences that had guided Kyal in forming his own view of the world.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Although there had apparently been some who tried to point out the obvious, the mainstream of Terran science had refused to recognize that Venus was a much younger planet than Earth—even after sending down surface probes of their own when its surface and atmosphere were still forming. The maturer conditions of Earth had proved so much more hospitable that several Venusian researchers had suggested, not always jokingly, that they should consider moving their whole culture there.

  The Terrans' error was another consequence of their assumption of gravity being the sole means of shaping the Solar System, and missing the importance of electrical forces involved in causing ejection of lesser objects from gas giants by fission. This led them to construct a theory in which all bodies had formed together out of a collapsing dust cloud, and hence had to be the same age. When data started coming back from Venus clearly telling of the hot, primordial conditions there, they invented a notion of a runaway atmospheric greenhouse to account for it.

  In this they revealed an extraordinary capacity for self-delusion that resulted from their tendency to twist the evidence to fit a theory that they had convinced themselves had to be right—as if fervency of belief could somehow affect the fact. This typified the negation of science as it was taught on Venus, and as Kyal had learned it from Jarnor, where one of the essential disciplines to be mastered at the outset was learning to recognize and suppress desires and preconceptions, and simply follow where the evidence led.

  Emur Frazin, the psychobiologist among the company on the ship out, had held this to be the most significant psychological difference setting Terrans and Venusians apart. Looking for reasons for it was a big part of the work that had brought him here. The same underlying philosophy pertained too to the managing of Venusian political and social affairs. Or at least it did traditionally. And this would explain Sherven's reservations toward militant demands for changes in public policy from quarters he saw as allowing thinking to be dominated more by ideologies of how things ought to be, instead of by the simple and practical lessons that experience taught of what worked and what didn't.

  Even thought the views from orbit had prepared them, the pageant of detail unfolding as the lander descended toward the surface awed Kyal and left even Yorim speechless. Despite all the images they had seen, to fully grasp the extent of Earth's oceans, you had to actually see one down there,
through an atmosphere as clear as crystal, stretching all the way to the rim of a quarter of a planet and beyond. As the landscapes of colored daubery rose, expanded, and resolved into plains, valleys, rifts, and snow-topped mountains of stupefying dimensions, the age of the planet became visible too. They could sense the aeons of history written into every fold, river channel, and crumbling ridgeline taking shape among the bastions of ancient rock.

  "It makes home look a bit like a factory slag dump," Yorim offered finally.

  Rhombus, by now a small if cluttered and somewhat inelegant town, had grown from one of the earliest surface bases. The most geographically widespread Terran language, de facto standard for business and most other international dealings, and hence the one that Venusian linguists were concentrating on, had been that known as English. It took its name from the dominant of a diverse collection of squabbling tribes who inhabited a group of islands off the northwest of the main planetary land mass, where it had emerged as an impossibly irrational amalgam of various ancestral languages brought by successive waves of foreign invaders, all of whom added to and further complicated the makeup of the final population. Untangling the history was still a bewilderment to Venusian scholars, but it appeared that the English had inherited their various contributors' proclivities for conquest as well as their languages, for they went on to establish an empire of their own which for a short time girdled the entire world. Either the language itself somehow instilled a tendency toward aggression—or perhaps was an expression of it—or there was some peculiar genetic connection between the two. One of the principal regions colonized by the English—after invasion by a number of rival groups and virtual extermination of the natives—was the northern part of the double-continent Americas across the ocean to west. Having adopted the language, the Americans then became the major world power and proceeded in turn to begin attacking and invading everybody else.