The 13th Science Fiction MEGAPACK®: 26 Great SF Stories!

by Lake, Jay

  He knew that the SETI Institute had examined the nearest thousand stars at watering-hole wavelengths without success. He inferred a NetSat conflict with ET’s signal, far from the watering hole. He hadn’t read much about SETI work at MIT. All factors pointed away from a finding at the watering hole.

  He rolled the dice. “I predict that ET’s signal is about 6.7 centimeters: the hydrogen wavelength divided by pi.” Pi was the only transcendental divisor of the hydrogen wavelength that could cause a conflict for NetSat. “That would be a good indicator of a signal from intelligent beings.”

  Her raised eyebrow confirmed his speculation.

  “Where is the signal from?”

  “Lalande 2-something. I hadn’t heard of it.”

  “Probably Lalande 21185.” The adult physicist had once been a boy with a four-inch telescope. A Web search agent kept him current at a hobbyist level with major astronomical news. “It’s one of the stars closest to Earth, about eight light years. Near Leo Minor. It’s been believed since 1996 to have at least one planet, Jupiter-sized.”

  She was silent for several minutes, making up her mind. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  * * * *

  Bandwidth alone didn’t guarantee a successful satcom company—NetSat also needed to put its birds into orbit. Some of their launches were booked on Russian and Chinese boosters. That had meant obtaining licenses to export satellites to the foreign launch sites. And that meant Matthews knew people in the State Department.

  The connection worked.

  His assistant reached him on the flight from Switzerland. No need to dash across JFK for the plane to Washington: he had an urgent appointment in Manhattan with Alex Klein, American ambassador to the UN.

  The diplomat was as circumlocutory as Matthews was direct. In some manner, it would seem, with vague attribution to the auspices of the Department of State, and in public-minded and full support of a recommendation from the Office of the Secretariat of the ITU, it would appear … that Dean was in! He should expect an invitation to join the Lalande task force.

  The implication was clearer that Klein’s office was available to Matthews as a resource.

  Unambiguous, if deniably oblique in its delivery, was the subtext that Dean should be forthcoming with any data of a “national security nature” that might arise during the task force deliberations.

  CHAPTER 2

  Held at a Caribbean resort, the kickoff meeting of the Lalande task force could have been mistaken for a corporate boondoggle. The remote island was far from most of the idly curious; a smattering of UN guards turned away uninvited members of the press.

  The people at the registration table disavowed all knowledge when Dean had questioned the round red sticker on his name tag. It related, he presumed, to the as-yet undefined committee structure of the task force. Five colors were in use; no one whose name he recognized had red.

  The auditorium doors opened, and the crowd surged inside. The Secretary-General of the UN gave the obligatory pep talk by satellite link. He introduced Kim Chun Ku, the Undersecretary-General for Administrative Affairs, as (the day’s first news) head of the task force. The SG was followed by Ambassador Juan Roderigo of Argentina, currently heading COPUOS, the Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space.

  Sherman Xu reprised his big announcement of two days before. The signal appeared to come from Lalande 21185. The carrier signal was at the hydrogen wavelength divided by pi. Like naturally occurring cosmic radio sources, the faint signal faded in and out. Unlike natural radio sources, the carrier was modulated with a narrowband signal, under 300 Hertz. About every 30 hours the signal included a sequence of pulses: pulse, pause, two pulses, pause, three pulses … up to 128 pulses. That pulse sequence was repeated once.

  A complex-seeming message followed the easy-to-recognize pulse sequences for thirty hours. The cycle then apparently repeated, although that conclusion was tentative due to noise and signal fading. His team hoped to have synthesized the full message within a week—if the signal persisted that long.

  It was almost noon when Kim Chun Ku claimed the podium. Kim’s remarks confirmed what his title plainly said: he was an administrator. His third viewgraph was an organization chart: five colored boxes. As one, the audience members glanced at their name badges. Whispered conversations erupted.

  Kim tapped the mike until order returned, and he confirmed that colored stickers denoted committee assignments. After lunch, at committee breakout sessions, complete rosters would be made available.

  The gold team, at the top of the chart, sounded like what Bridget had called the steering committee. Kim led the gold team. Membership included the leaders of the still undefined other teams, famous names from the SETI community, two assistants to ambassadors from COPUOS-participating countries, and a few UN agency heads like Bridget.

  Blue team dealt with radio engineering: signal acquisition and recovery. They would work with the ITU on reducing Earth- originated interference in ET’s preferred frequencies, and coordinate among radio observatories worldwide monitoring ET’s signal. Blue team was mostly radio astronomers, including Sherman Xu, with some of Bridget’s staff thrown in.

  Green team owned what struck Matthews as the part of the project most likely to be second-guessed: analysis. They were tasked with decoding and interpreting ET’s message. Membership included lots of SETI folks, a codebreaker from the National Security Agency, mathematicians, and linguists.

  Gray team would ponder Earth’s possible response. Opening a dialogue with another civilization was not about science: this committee was entirely staffed by diplomats assigned by the Security Council. Mathematicians and linguists from Analysis would encode Earth’s message after a reply, if any, had been strategized.

  And the red team? The best had not been saved for last.

  Red denoted the media and education committee. They were to coordinate the release and positioning of everyone else’s results. Red team would also field questions and unsolicited suggestions. Matthews’ teammates were pool reporters, PR flacks, educators, and—oh, joy!—a multicultural behavioral response team.

  Why was he on the red team?

  * * * *

  “And so,” concluded Paul Ricard, “our role is to package and control the Lalande information, while respecting various cultural sensitivities. After a short break, I propose to discuss process concepts for that mission.”

  The red-team leader had spoken for twenty minutes, without conveying any more than his summary. The viewpoint was what Matthews expected from a PR flack, even one with a prestigious UN title. Dean cleared his throat.

  “Dr. Matthews, have you something to add?”

  Unfortunately, he did. “Yes, actually. I don’t think our charter, as you’ve spelled it out, can be accomplished.”

  “Why is that?” Ricard was more condescending than curious.

  Matthews had sensed, when the session opened with brief introductions, that he was not alone in wondering about his assignment. As he had suspected, Dean was the only member with a physical-sciences background.

  “We don’t have a monopoly on ET information.” The media reps, who were being mysteriously docile, seemed to suffer from the misapprehension that task-force membership guaranteed a lock on all Lalande news. “If we withhold or spin any findings, we’ll discredit the whole task force.”

  “I question the premise.” Ricard was miffed. “We’ve brought into the task force the leadership of every major radio telescope. Surely we can rely upon their cooperation in the responsible release of discoveries.”

  Irrelevant even if true. “In days, universities worldwide will be monitoring ET directly. They can easily build an adequate receiver from arrays of commercial satellite dishes. Thanks to Dr. Xu, they know exactly where to point the antennas and the frequency to t
une to. And they’ll all be racing to post observations and interpretations on the Web.”

  Many surprised looks were exchanged about the room before Ricard found his voice. “How sure are you about this?”

  “Very. As you know, I’m on leave of absence from a satcom company, one of many such firms. Any of a dozen people from my former staff could do this.”

  “Dr. Matthews?” asked Amreesh Shah, a psychologist from the behavioral-response group. “What would you propose?”

  “Publish our observations rather than filter them. Clearly mark as commentary any ‘adjustments’ we may choose to make.

  “While we won’t have a monopoly on the signal, we will have resources far beyond those of other listeners. If our postings are prompt and objective, our interpretations insightful, we become the preferred source of ET data. If we hold back, however well-intentioned our reasons, the best we can hope for is marginalization by other news sources. At worst, who knows what motives will be ascribed to us? There’s no shortage of people who see conspiracies all around them.”

  Shah nodded. “Distrust is the result we can least afford.”

  That was one point everyone in the committee agreed upon.

  * * * *

  From the SETI Conspiracy chat room

  Suspect_Everyone: Does it strike anyone else as suspicious that the UN is orchestrating the Lalande investigation?

  UFO_believer: Absolutely! And who’s behind this “International Academy of Astronautics”?

  42_is_true: I’d sure like to see the ET message text from a reliable source, not the US government, and *certainly* not the UN.

  Suspect_Everyone: Does it strike anyone else as suspicious that it’s suddenly hard to buy satellite dishes?

  * * * *

  Bridget idly flapped the paper umbrella from her tropical punch. Open, close, open, close. “Quite a meeting.”

  Satterswaithe was an electrical engineer by training, with a PhD from Oxford. She’d gone straight from university to a British government research establishment. That had been a stepping stone to the ITU, which, after a succession of promotions, she now headed. An adult life spent in bureaucracies had not diminished her determination to make things happen. She had, however, developed a tolerance for committees that Matthews could not fathom.

  Dean favored a local beer he’d discovered on the first night of the kickoff. Delightful microbrew notwithstanding, he was eager to get back to the States. He and Satterswaithe had met in the airport bar, awaiting their separate flights. “It turned out okay. Maybe I’ll cancel the mob contract I took out on you.”

  “For accomplishing what you pleaded for?”

  “Requested in a dignified manner.” He gestured for another round. “No, for putting me with the social scientists and spin doctors. Look, I respect their sincerity and good intentions, but I’ve never met so many people who see the glass as half empty.”

  “Don’t blame me or the gold team. Yours was one of the few assignments Kim had made before Steering even met.” A boarding announcement from a staticky PA drowned out her next words.

  “What?”

  “I asked, ‘So how is it that things turned out okay?’.”

  “Had it been my choice, I would’ve had a tough time deciding between Signals, Analysis, and Reply. It occurred to me that someone on the red team has to liaise with those other committees. A technically oriented interfacer made sense. So I’ve gotten myself access to all of the information that Steering has, without, no offense, enduring all of that bureaucratic ponderousness.”

  “No offense taken.” She laughed. “Well, maybe a little. In any case, I’m off to my gate. I’m glad it worked out for you.”

  He decided he was glad for her abrupt departure, which avoided the awkward question about whom, since it wasn’t the steering committee, wanted him on the Media & Education team. It couldn’t have been Kim’s idea: Kim knew nothing about him.

  At least the Undersecretary-General was unlikely to have heard about Matthews absent input from the US ambassador.

  * * * *

  From the Earth First chat room.

  All_Politics_Is_Local: So what’s with the Lalande task force and its closed-door ‘organizational’ meeting?

  Stop_World_Government: What’s the UN *always* up to? ET’s message is simply another excuse for worldwide government. Whatever the task force is for … I’m against.

  All_Politics_Is_Local: It’s welfare for rich-country scientists. Would a Bangladeshi textile worker think this is the best use for the money?

  Radical_Dude: There’s common cause among world-government resistors, ET skeptics, and third-world advocates. Expect the UN to get a taste of what we gave the WTO in Seattle in ’99.

  CHAPTER 3

  Alex Klein had alerted Dean to the unadvertised coordination between the Russian and American militaries and the steering committee. One thing led to another, and now Matthews was at a Manhattan deli with a Russian general and ex-cosmonaut.

  Vladimir Grigorivich Antinov began his career in the Red Air Force. He’d been an advisor to Hanoi during the Viet Nam War, a time he declined to discuss. He’d graduated to, and risen rapidly in, the then-Soviet strategic rocket forces. Combining piloting and missile expertise, he’d moved into the cosmonaut corps. He’d served two tours aboard Mir, one as mission commander. His English, from years of joint planning with NASA, was excellent.

  After an exchange of pleasantries and the ordering of lunches, Dean got to the point. “To be honest, I’m surprised that the militaries care about ET.”

  Antinov dumped sugar into his tea. “Our job is to worry.”

  “About what? ET is far away.”

  “That is an assumption it is best to validate.”

  Arrival of their sandwiches gave Dean a chance to consider Antinov’s rebuttal. ET’s signal was quickly recognized as artificial because of the pi factor. That observed wavelength, however, depended on the wavelength originally transmitted and Doppler shift due to relative motion between sender and receiver. Lalande 21185 and the sun moved relative to each other. ET’s unseen planet must, like Earth, orbit its sun and rotate about its axis. The signal should have wobbled continuously around its “look at me” wavelength.

  It didn’t.

  Without any decoding of content, this observation showed that the message was intended specifically for Earth. It meant that ET saw Earth well enough to measure its orbit and rotation, and then dynamically tune his signal accordingly.

  “In ten years we could have a telescope able to resolve Earth-sized planets of nearby stars,” said Dean. “NASA has requested funding for one for years. ET seeing Earth doesn’t require technology much past ours.”

  Antinov waved over the waitress to refill his cup. “Or ET could be much closer. If he can correct a signal for planetary motions, his and ours, he can as easily compensate for blue shift to disguise transmission from an approaching vessel.”

  “But why announce your existence and hide your arrival?”

  “The message may announce a visit. We can’t read it yet.”

  Might ET be announcing his arrival? Matthews shoved away his plate, half of a corned beef on rye untouched. He’d heard nothing like this from anyone on the task force. “Since we’re discussing this in a deli, you can’t be too concerned.”

  “Did I have too much fun with you? I will explain what my people and yours are doing: probing with our most powerful radars along the signal path. These radars can detect the smallest bits of space junk in Earth orbit. We can track a dropped bolt that is hundreds of kilometers high. More than once,” the cosmonaut smiled, “that has been a useful capability. We would expect to detect a starship much farther away. As yet, there has been no return pulse.”

  Matthews had never worked with military radar, but thought he
could make an intelligent guess at its sensitivity from an understanding of radio telescopes. “If ET is coming, he’s still well outside our solar system. Or stealthed.”

  Antinov winked at the mention of stealth. “I commend your newfound paranoia, though in this case such caution may be excessive. To visit us, a vessel must travel at very high speed through the scattered matter that makes interstellar space only a near vacuum. Could a ship maintain stealthiness against the ongoing particle bombardment? Would it not radiate, whether from collisions with such particles or some protective force field? We’ve seen no such evidence.

  “We’ve even used the comet watcher trick of flipping back and forth between telescope photographs taken on successive nights of the same part of the sky. There are no unexpected moving objects, nor any unexpected occluded stars.”

  “You have been busy.”

  “We do only what your Space Command has done, I think.”

  Matthews grabbed the check. “So are you convinced that the signal is genuine, and from Lalande 21185?”

  “It has been a most pleasant discussion, but duty calls.” Antinov stood. “As for your question, I am almost convinced.

  “I am entirely certain that were ET able to sneak up on us, nothing we could do in preparation would matter.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “… And still no comment from the UN investigation. Has ET’s signal been lost? If so, what does it mean? Is the UN covering up? We want to hear from you.”

  The radio call-in show was Dean’s regular breakfast companion, entertaining when he successfully compartmentalized the sorry implications about the state of education. Today’s show was annoying rather than amusing, however—even though, oddly enough, it had the facts mostly correct.

  The signal from Lalande 21185 had vanished last night.

  He retrieved today’s paper from the curb. Loss of signal was front-page news, with attribution to the SETI Institute, the Planetary Society, and Cal Tech. As he’d foreseen, universities and science-interest groups had built their own antenna arrays—and they were free to announce findings when they pleased. That usually meant only a phone call to a buddy at a peer institution to confirm an observation or analysis.