“Poor woman,” Liz said.
“Yeah.”
“She needs to go into rejuve. I wonder if CST will pay for that?”
“Why does she need rejuve?” Mark peered at her image inside the portal. “She doesn’t look like she’s that old.”
Liz took advantage of his distraction to spoon up two lots of pudding. “Compared to whom? Dudley Bose’s replacement clone is going to be an eighteen-year-old. She’ll have a physical equivalence of late fifties. Trust me, that’s not a marriage you want to try.”
“Suppose not. I just can’t stop thinking about Bose and Verbeke. Talk about being abandoned a long way from home. Do you think they suicided when they realized?”
“Depends on the Dyson aliens. Maybe they built them an environment chamber, and right now they’ve cracked the translation hurdle and are chatting away happily.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
Liz chewed thoughtfully for a moment. Professor Truten was helping Wendy Bose back into her house. “Nope. They’re bodydead.”
“I figured that, too.” His gaze wandered up to the cheap composite ceiling. “You know Elan’s almost the closest Commonwealth planet to the Dyson Pair.”
“There are seven closer than us, including Anshun. But you’re right, we’re close.” She giggled. “Only seven hundred and fifty-four light-years away. Scary, huh?”
He reached around with his free hand, and poked her just below the ribs, where he knew she was sensitive.
“Ow!” Liz screwed her face up, and retaliated by scooping up a giant piece of pudding.
“Hey!” he protested. “I’ve barely had a mouthful yet.”
“Life’s a bitch, then you rejuvenate and do it all over again.”
SIXTEEN
It was midday on America’s eastern seaboard. The sun had reached its zenith, allowing it to shine directly onto the streets lurking at the bottom of Manhattan’s concrete canyons. Looking down on Fifth Avenue from the two hundred twenty-fifth floor of the Commonwealth Exploration and Development Office, Nigel Sheldon could see the city’s perpetual traffic battle in action. All along that massive historical thoroughfare, yellow cabs and matte-black limousines were jammed together, two entirely separate and antagonistic species contesting dominance of the available lanes. Urban myth told it that the city’s cabs had illicit aggressor software installed in their drive arrays. It wouldn’t surprise Nigel given the times his limo had to brake to make way for a cab veering out in front of him. And they were the ones who benefited most from this brief visitation of light, hundreds of them gleaming splendidly amid their somber opponents, right now they looked victorious.
Closer to the base of the skyscraper he could see a thick semicircle of reporters around the main entrance. There was an idle thought, if he spat out of the window, how long would it take before one of them was hit, looking upward with revulsion and annoyance. It was good to have childish thoughts like that still, he felt—put a perspective on life. His fellow Council members could certainly do with lightening up.
They were already filling the room behind him. Thompson Burnelli and Crispin Goldreich sitting together at the table, heads together as they horse-traded and maneuvered, playing out the game in which all the Grand Families participated. Elaine Doi, looking more drawn than usual, but then she really didn’t need complications in the year that would see her placing her name into the ring for the pre-primaries of the presidential election. She was exchanging greetings with Rafael Columbia and Gabrielle Else. There were fewer aides this time around, reflecting the increased security and importance resting on the ExoProtectorate Council. Wilson Kime was standing talking with Daniel Alster, looking remarkably unflustered given the certain degree of animosity directed toward him by Council members, led by Senator Burnelli.
Nigel could take the politicking in his stride. Unlike Wilson, he’d never given himself the luxury of a sabbatical life away from the heart of the Commonwealth government. Thinking ahead was what he lived for; and he was pretty sure that none of the aides and think-tanks that the other Council members drew on for their briefs had prepared as many scenarios as the CST strategists had. Some of the worst-case outcomes were going to require counteractions that he would have to undertake by himself, through private and discreet ventures—including the ultimate fallback of evacuating his entire family from Commonwealth space altogether. Implementing such schemes didn’t particularly bother him—in fact they were quite a challenge. The only cause for concern today was the one thing that had been troubling him for several months now, the lack of any communication from Ozzie. Nigel was used to his friend vanishing for months, or even years at a time while he went worldwalking, or even homesteading and raising a new family. But he always answered his messages eventually.
“If you’re ready,” Elaine Doi said, somewhat impatiently.
Nigel turned from the window, nodding reluctantly. He’d been putting off the meeting in the small hope that Ozzie would appear at the last second, unapologetic as always and happy to have caused a nuisance. It wasn’t to be. The doors were closed, and the room secured.
Everyone settled around the table. The Vice President asked for the SI to be brought on-line, and its tangerine and turquoise lines began to shiver across the screen at the end of the room. “I believe we should start by congratulating Captain Wilson and his crew on performing an exceptionally difficult mission with true professionalism,” Elaine Doi said. “I know you had some hard choices to make out there, Captain, and I don’t envy you that, but I believe they were the right ones. Bringing back information was your first priority.”
“What information was that, exactly?” Thompson Burnelli asked. “I consider myself less than enlightened by your trip. Certainly given the cost of the damn thing.”
“That there is a very large, technologically advanced, and apparently aggressive alien species seven hundred and fifty light-years from the Commonwealth,” Wilson said impassively. “They were confined within the barrier, but someone let them out so they could see us. A third party. In itself an action we should consider to be unfriendly at the very least, if not positively hostile.”
“You seriously believe that?” Thompson asked. “We’re facing two sets of aliens, both of them hostile?”
“The barrier removal was not coincidence,” Nigel said. “We didn’t do it. The Dyson aliens didn’t do it. QED, there is another factor at work here.”
“It had to be the aliens which put it up in the first place,” Brewster Kumar said. “Only the people with the knowledge of construction could do that.”
“That makes very little sense to me,” Elaine Doi said. “If you’re going to switch it off when the first ship arrives to investigate, why put it up in the first place?”
“I’d like to address that,” Wilson said. “We have two options, either the barrier was taken down by the same aliens who put it up, in which case the motivation remains beyond us given our current level of knowledge about them. Or it was switched off by someone else, again for an unknown reason; and that is the more worrying conclusion.”
“Why?” Crispin Goldreich asked.
“It was put up to confine what appears to be an aggressive species. Somebody was worried enough about them to build that thing. Now I was there, I saw that barrier; you just don’t build something like that without a very, very good reason. I don’t care how advanced the builders were, the resources and effort they needed to devote to that task were fantastic. They were worried to the point of paranoia about the Dyson aliens. Think about that: a species which can build a barrier around a star were worried. Anything that can worry them scares the shit out of me. And now the Dyson aliens are free.”
“Do you agree with that assessment?” Elaine Doi asked the SI.
“It is logical. We do not believe it was coincidence that the barrier was switched off at the same time as the Second Chance arrived. That it was done by the Dyson aliens seems unlikely. By simple elimination it had to be the creators of the
barrier, or yet another alien.”
“Neither of which has any valid motive,” Brewster Kumar said.
“No apparent motive,” the SI said. “But as we do not yet know the actual reason behind the establishment of the barrier, guessing at the basis for its removal is an irrelevant exercise.”
“Don’t you think it was put up because the Dyson aliens are aggressive?” Wilson asked.
“It is a plausible theory, yes,” the SI said. “But why was it deemed necessary to enclose Dyson Beta in a similar barrier?”
“Good point,” Rafael Columbia acknowledged.
“I don’t know,” Wilson said wearily. “But what we have established is how dangerous the aliens at Dyson Alpha are.”
“Apparently dangerous,” Thompson Burnelli said. “Let’s face it, if an alien species had observed Earth in the twentieth century, especially during the Second World War, they would conclude we were irredeemably violent. I’m surprised they didn’t put a barrier around us while they had the chance, if that is the reason these things are built.”
“We’ve grown out of that phase,” Elaine Doi said. “Rejuvenation and interstellar expansion have completely altered our psychology and culture.”
“Don’t start that argument again,” Brewster Kumar said. “We got lucky, that was all.”
“We make our own luck,” Elaine said. “As a race we have great potential within us. Have some faith.”
“We’re not discussing us,” Nigel said. “We’re here to decide what to do about a bunch of aliens with an awful lot of nuclear weapons and a propensity to use them.”
“They have nukes and no doubt a great many other sophisticated weapons,” Rafael Columbia said. “But they do not have any form of FTL, which gives us a safety margin of seven hundred and fifty light-years. That’s a very big safety margin.”
“They didn’t have FTL, because there was no need for it inside the barrier, and FTL was blocked by the barrier,” Wilson said. “But given their demonstrated technological capability, I wouldn’t count on any kind of distance keeping them away from us.”
“How long would it take them to build FTL starships?”
Everyone looked at Nigel. He shrugged. “Like Wilson said, they have a high technology industrial base. Once you’ve worked out the basic theory, you could have a prototype hyperdrive up and running in a matter of months if you devote enough resources to the project. The key question is, if you can put that math together in the first place.”
“We have to assume they can.” Elaine Doi said. “They saw the Second Chance in operation.” She grimaced. “And they might well have Bose and Verbeke.”
“They’ll suicide before that happens, surely,” Rafael Columbia said. “They know what’s at stake.”
Wilson cleared his throat uncomfortably. Everybody around the table turned to look at him. They’d all been in the game long enough to recognize bad news from any distance.
“All crew members, myself included, were equipped with an insert which will perform that function,” Wilson said. “However, we can reasonably assume Bose and Verbeke will assess the situation first. If they were to make an initial nonviolent contact with the Dyson aliens, I would expect them to make some attempt to communicate and build up a rapport. Only if it looked hopeless would they resort to a complete datawipe of their memory inserts and suicide.”
“So they’ll do it then?” Elaine Doi said; she seemed to be urging him to say yes. “I mean, they know they’ll be re-lifed within the Commonwealth. They’ll only lose a day at the most, surely? And it could be a very unpleasant day, at that.”
“I am reasonably convinced Emmanuelle Verbeke will do the right thing,” Wilson said. “But—and I hope to Christ I’m wrong—we may have a problem with Bose.”
“What do you mean, a problem?” Thompson Burnelli demanded.
Wilson stared at the Senator. “His training and assessment weren’t as thorough as everyone else on board. After selection, he spent some time in a rejuve tank reducing his body age. The remaining time was limited before we launched.”
“Then why the fuck did you let him on board?”
“Political expediency,” Nigel interjected smoothly. “Same reason your man Tunde Sutton was on board.”
Thompson leveled a rigid forefinger at Nigel. “Tunde passed every test you threw at him.”
“He certainly did. And if he’d been rejected at the final selection process, along with everyone else who had connections to Earth’s Grand Families, you would have been the first to cause a stink.”
“Maybe. But at least Tunde was properly trained, not like this Bose character. What kind of half-assed operation are you running here?”
“The only one in town.”
“Jesus H. Christ.” Thompson sat back, and gave both Nigel and Wilson a disgusted look.
“Very well,” Elaine Doi said. “In the worst-possible case, the Dyson aliens know a lot about us, they can build an FTL starship, and they know where we are. What do we do about that?”
“Same as the last time,” Wilson said. “Send a mission to find out what’s going on.”
“One that has a greater success than last time, one sincerely hopes,” Crispin Goldreich said.
“It will be,” Nigel said. “The Second Chance was a shot completely into the unknown. We had to build something that could tackle just about any contingency, a true exploratory vessel. This time the mission will be very tightly defined. These ships will be smaller, and possibly even a little cheaper.”
“Why do you need more than one?” Elaine Doi asked.
“So the others can monitor what happens to the one that attempts to make contact, and report back if it’s lost,” Wilson said. “By now the Dyson aliens know who we are, and possibly that we didn’t put up the barrier. They certainly know we are no threat to them. How they react to us this time around will be crucial.”
“I wouldn’t like that job,” Rafael Columbia muttered.
“I’m not looking forward to it myself,” Wilson said. “But it has to be done, and done properly.”
“You got something to prove?” Thompson Burnelli asked quietly.
Wilson didn’t rise to it.
“I take it these ships are on the drawing board?” Elaine Doi asked.
“Oh, yes,” Nigel said. “As soon as we completed the Second Chance design, I authorized preliminary assessment on a possible smaller exploration starship. Adapting that to a fast scout vehicle is relatively simple. From what we learned about building the hyperdrive for Second Chance we can modify future versions for a much greater speed. That whole life-support wheel structure has been dumped, the crew can slum it in freefall. We’ve also minimized the reaction drive along with its ancillary garbage; there was no need for it apart from short-range maneuvering. But we have bumped up the armament quotient. They’ll be able to fight as well as run.”
“And what will their mission be, exactly?” Brewster Kumar asked.
“They must discover more about the nature of the Dyson aliens. If they are truly warlike. If they are developing FTL starships or opening wormholes to nearby star systems. FTL in particular would be hard to hide, given a wormhole signature is so readily detectable. Of course, if they have any knowledge in that field, that will mean they can probably spot us coming as well.”
“Very well,” Elaine Doi said. “I don’t think any of us disagree that this new mission must be undertaken, and with some urgency. What I’d like from this Council is a formal proposal to the Commonwealth Executive Office to form a new agency which will oversee the whole Dyson exploration and contact operation from planning to execution, put it all under government jurisdiction.”
“And financing,” Thompson Burnelli said gruffly.
“Are you saying you want the government to establish a civil starflight agency?” Rafael Columbia asked.
“Exactly that, yes. This is a possible threat to the entire Commonwealth. It cannot be the preserve of an ad hoc response with uncertain multisou
rce funding. The problem needs to be addressed with stability and clear policy management.”
“Ah.” Rafael glanced at Nigel. “And how do you feel about that, Nigel? These are mostly your personnel we are talking about.”
“I think it doesn’t go far enough.” He almost smiled at how quiet the room became, even Wilson was staring at him in surprise. “You want policy for this, then it has to be long-term and coherent. If our new scouts come back with bad news, then what? Another meeting like this? No, Elaine is quite right, we need clear policy and an agency capable of implementation. We need to be preparing for the worst case before the scoutships even leave. There are other Commonwealth agencies and councils like this one that deal in security. They will have to be incorporated into this new agency as well.”
“You’re talking about the formation of a navy,” Crispin Goldreich said; he seemed taken aback by the idea. “A committed military force.”
“If you know of something else which can defend us, I’d like to hear about it.”
“I cannot believe you are proposing this. You! What does Mr. Issac say about it?”
“I expect he’ll be upset by the very notion,” Nigel said. “But as he can’t even be bothered to turn up to this meeting, he doesn’t get to have that say, does he?”
The surprise around the table was even greater than before.
“What?” an irritated Nigel asked. “We had a glorious dream when we were young. We gave humanity the stars. And now, as Elaine said, we’ve grown up because of that. If everything we’ve achieved as a race, this whole glorious civilization we’ve built, is under threat, then damn right I want to protect it. A navy will do that.”
“Yes it will,” Thompson Burnelli said carefully. “But if we go ahead and announce we’re going to create a navy, it will create a huge amount of panic and worry. Christ knows what the stock market will do, and the knock-on effect that’ll have on the economy doesn’t make pleasant speculation. You might even get inward migration from the outermost phase two planets—which is the last thing we need. The damn thing will be cyclic, it’ll feed on itself. If it’s our brief to protect the Commonwealth from any alien impact, then we have to consider that as well. This isn’t just external, Nigel.”
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