Or not so random. She had lapsed into troubled slumber brooding about T'bck Ra's latest distressing news. The third strike.
She had not noticed Swee slip out of the cabin, yet there he was returning with a mug of hot h'roth. “Thank you.” For the soothing drink. For keeping me going.
He settled next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?"
“Another time.” She shivered. And another place. To her surprise, she knew just where that would be.
Life's summer was more than a trauma for plants, more than a convenient alibi for eco-sabotage. Life's summer was the harbinger of the doom the Unity risked at each inward plunge of the orange sun. The geological record revealed several sudden and major shifts in Chel Kra's axial tilt; the fossil record showed massive die-offs on each such occasion.
Primary's miserly planetary system offered no good alternatives. Besides Chel Kra, there were but two very hot worlds within Chel Kra's orbit, and, outermost, a small gas world with a few rocky moons. Secondary had only three planets, and for a similar reason. Each sun on its looping orbit about the other had long ago ejected into the interstellar darkness any planets that had formed farther out. Primary's influence on the remaining planets of its smaller, dimmer companion made life on them even more precarious.
Would the Unity survive the massive death and destruction a major change in axial tilt would cause? Probably—but could the survivors continue to maintain a presence in space? A second axial shift before the Unity regained its strength and capabilities might be fatal.
The mission to the K'vithians had always been a means, not an end. It was to have been a larger-scale demonstration of feasibility than the jaunt to the Red Companion. K'choi Gwu ka had hoped it would lead to colonizing missions to stellar neighbors not much farther away. A colony at such a distance must be self-sufficient from the start—self-sustaining no matter what calamity might happen at home. Her species, for the first time in its history, would be safe. That had been her ultimate goal for this mission.
Instead, the mission's failure would sunder the delicate consensus that had sent Harmony, would tip the societal balance yet more towards conservatism and retrenchment. It would discredit interstellar travel for a very long time. For too long?
The Unity came first. She would protect it at all costs.
* * * *
The work team waded through thick and fetid waste, the clotting filth rising over their second highest tentacle joints. Imagination recreated without difficulty the stench of the excrement and rotting leaves that lapped against sealed protective clothing. Strings of overhead lamps receded from the twisted and burst hatch of the reservoir, a coating of muck turning the bright yellow glow of the ceiling LEDs a dim green-brown.
Gwu plodded into the gloom, one tentacle held high clutching a sonar scanner. She carefully examined her self-assigned segment of the recycling tank.
Soon enough, a shout came from across the tank. “Here is something,” called T'Brk Cha. After two interstellar crossings, no one on board was young, but Cha was among the youngest. Moving slowly to avoid slipping, the other seven members of the work crew slogged through the viscous mess to Cha's side. “Look at this.” He sounded as surprised as she had hoped.
The youngster had found a burst pump awash in the muck, as Gwu had known he would. Her latest memory-chip message to T'bck Ra had asked the AI to overload and overheat something in an effluent reservoir, something that would cause a methane explosion.
She was determined to have the benefit of the crew-kindred's wisdom. This small representative group was as close as she could get—but she had to speak with them privately.
There was no evidence of K'vithian bugs inside the tanks, in which all ship's waste was slowly and organically recycled into fertilizer for the farms. As Gwu had expected, the K'vithian guards had halted far from the rupture in the farm floor—a good ten tentacle lengths distant, where the spatters of waste matter remained sparse. The work team was alone and unsupervised but for their suit radios. Gwu gestured with a dripping tentacle: suit microphones off. Touch helmets.
“K'tel Da and T'Brk Cha,” she whispered. “You are to repair the pump—slowly. On my signal, reactivate your microphones. Speak to each other for the benefit of the guards outside. Complain about connections stuck shut by this muck. Curse about dropping slippery parts into the slime, and groping to find them. Talk to the rest of us, calling us by name, when you can grunt in response. Grumble how difficult it is to read part numbers because everything is corroded. When the guards bring replacement parts—and someone will, to get briefly away from the stench—manage to drop them into the tank. That clumsiness will be believable, since your sleeves are coated with this slime.
“Stall to give the rest of us time to consult—and let me know immediately if the guards sound suspicious.” She waved them away from the cluster. They began chattering in her earphones, the volume lowered but still on lest a guard call her.
She guessed they had a few minutes.
“My friends, we have a serious matter to consider. Your wisdom must represent the entire crew-kindred.” And we must discuss this matter with uncharacteristic speed.
“What is the issue, ka?” K'tra Ko, a mid-level supply officer, spoke first. Others murmured in agreement.
For long years she had yearned for this moment. Now all her private thoughts and doubts, all her inferences and suspicions and fears vied for immediate release. This is not about me, nor is there time to explain everything. She must hope she had retained their confidence. “The Unity believes us lost, our mission a failure. The K'vithians have taken our interstellar-drive technology. With human help, they are about to master antimatter."
“What about ... who ... how ... but would not.... “Except for human involvement, she had revealed nothing they might not have already surmised. Their sudden volubility came more from the opportunity to speak freely than from news. Only Swee did not speak, his silence an affirmation of support.
“Softly!” In a lower voice, she continued. “We dare not be overheard. There is more. Please allow me to finish."
That a lifeboat was gone from its bay had become common knowledge. That it had been tampered with to simulate erratic drive behavior was not.
A subtle exchange of glances established T'chk Dwu, a biosphere engineer, as the team's spokesperson. “How can you know these things, ka?"
There were nuances of doubt in the furtive looks and the whispered question. For much of the journey to Sol system Gwu would have welcomed release from her duties. From the failures of her leadership. That was then; she must not fail now to persuade. “The K'vithians do not know it, but T'bck Ra is reactivated.” Another eruption of intense whispering took longer to suppress. How long before their guards became impatient? “I am sorry there is insufficient time to explain fully. We cannot expect soon to have another unmonitored gathering."
As succinctly as she could, Gwu made her case. Her fear that three apparent failures—the crew-kindred's retreat into suspended automation, the disappearance of the Harmony, and most recently the rigged lifeboat disaster—would cause the Unity to abandon interstellar travel. Her dread of the Unity remaining forever at risk of an axial flip, trapped by its misunderstanding of the disastrous mission. How terse and emphatic—how much like the Foremost—I have become.
Her turned-down earphones buzzed with the guards’ growing impatience. T'Brk Cha improvised that the pump must have failed long before it overheated to spark the explosion. They still needed to clear long-clogged pipes. Gwu hoped the translator would not recognize the panic in the youngster's voice. “We must finish,” she told the huddled team.
“Ka, what do you suggest?” T'chk Dwu asked. Anxiety had displaced the recent hint of skepticism in his voice.
“I believe the Unity must be informed the technology works. A crew-kindred can safely cross interstellar distances.” Even though it had taken K'vithian hijackers to keep us awake as their technicians. She squeezed Swee's tentacle. “Wh
atever the consequences to us. What are your thoughts?"
The latest stunned silence gave way to new murmurs: of confusion, shock, even sympathy for her burdens. None questioned that the reawakened T'bck Ra would get only one chance to send their desperate message. None would risk that opportunity to communicate on contacting the humans, with whom their captors were evidently allied. None doubted the K'vithians would exact harsh retribution.
And none put personal wellbeing before the safety of the Unity. The whispered consultation converged quickly to agreement with her proposition. Never had she been more proud of the crew-kindred and of her kind.
But were they too late?
* * * *
CHAPTER 23
The shift of the mission's next all-hands meeting to Valhalla City's poshest hotel was a giveaway: Something big was in the works. When Art and Eva arrived, they discovered the initial hour was a reception. No one in the milling crowd had any better idea than she what was being celebrated. Curiosity seemed only to whet the appetite for wine and hors d'oeuvres. Eva was content to nibble as others speculated.
Ambassador Chung, surrounded by aides, swept in near the end of the hour. He glad-handed his way through the ballroom to the dais, where he tapped on a microphone. “My colleagues"—brief toothy grin—"I hope everyone is in a party mood."
She could only shrug to Art's whispered, “What's he done now?"
“As has been covered at past meetings, the mission holds delegated authority from the UP to negotiate a mutually beneficial refueling agreement with our K'vithian visitors. I want you, my colleagues, to be the first to hear that those negotiations have finally borne fruit."
Back-to-back “my colleagues” from a very non-collegial guy. Whatever Chung planned to announce had been decided by a smaller group than the full team. Her guess was: by Chung alone.
“The Foremost and I held an unusually productive meeting just two days ago, at which he acknowledged the UP's significant investment in antimatter production. He did me the honor of a personal meeting in his cabin aboard Victorious.
“'I cannot,’ the Foremost said to me, ‘repay financially. The need to acquire fuel for the return trip was never imagined, and so never planned for.'” Chung raised his hands to deflect an outburst of questions. “That is when he made an offer far more valuable than any amount of Intersols. Mashkith said, ‘InterstellarNet began with simple barter, and I propose that we respect that precedent. What I offer in trade will make worthwhile the UP's antimatter capability ... interstellar-drive capability.’”
There was a moment of silence, and then a torrent of cheers and applause. As the ovation finally subsided, Eva raised her hand. “Ambassador, what are the arrangements for instructing us in the new physical principles?"
Chung nodded his head thoughtfully. “An excellent point, Doctor. As it happens, the trade will work slightly differently."
What? “With all respect, sir, what does that mean?"
“The K'vithian mission parameters never anticipated refueling here, nor the accident-related need for major resupply. We've understood all along that meant they didn't bring mega-funds. But it also means they never envisioned transferring the interstellar-drive technology. Asking now for that authorization would entail a twelve year wait—with no guarantee of the outcome."
“But you just said.... “Eva stopped, too angry to speak.
“The Foremost found what he considers a solution to this dilemma—what you or I might reasonably consider a rationalization. A loophole. If you wish to think of it this way, he is ready to bend the rules rather than be stranded here. He was expressly ordered to keep secret the interstellar-drive theory, but nothing in his instructions says he can't swap his ‘surplus equipment’ for our ‘surplus fuel.’ The surplus equipment he offered us is a lifeboat equipped with interstellar drive."
“This is incomprehensible.” (The netted version of Art's outburst said “insane.” Her netted reply hedged agreement.) “To converge upon an antimatter-exchange method, we had to share a great deal of our research with the Snakes. The K'vithians. Now they say they won't trade on an equal basis?"
“The K'vithians already have antimatter technology,” Chung said. “We have seen it demonstrated. They want antimatter, not theory, from us. They investigated BEC technology only to convince themselves they can take delivery of our fuel within an acceptable level of risk."
“Can we operate a spaceship whose drive we don't understand without putting ourselves at risk?” Art shot back.
Chung sniffed. “The Foremost assured me the drive mechanism is simple to replicate and operate. And, of course, lifeboat controls are designed to be meaningful to any crewman, not accessible only to specialists."
How many alternate drive mechanisms had been hypothesized over the years? How many theories, each with its associated experiments, had split the never adequate R&D budget? Possessing a drive that worked would let the UP direct its future efforts much more wisely. And surely she could infer much by careful observation and measurement of a working starship. The trade made a kind of sense—not just to Eva, but to the dozens contributing to the rising buzz in the ballroom.
“What do you think, Art?” she netted.
“Honestly? I don't know what to think. I only know it doesn't feel right."
* * * *
A hundred moons, asteroids, and ships across the solar system emitted a carefully timed salvo. Part of the barrage took the form of collimated beams; the rest came in high-energy pulses. No warning—no signal of any kind—could outrace the speed-of-light onslaught to its target nearly a light-day distant. The converging energies fluctuated every few nanoseconds, randomly hopping frequencies and altering modulations.
Two days later, the echoes of those simultaneous radar and lidar probes had returned to their sources. Outgoing and returned wave data, position—and time-stamped with utmost precision, had been forwarded to Actium and run through a battery of precise correlations. Wall screens and holo tanks now presented the analyses from every possible perspective, and in dizzying detail, but Art found the bottom-line result unambiguous. The target in the outer fringes of the Kuiper Belt had traced precisely the elaborate trajectory the Snakes had predicted.
IR instruments, as forecast, had seen nothing—even when radar insisted the object had been decelerating while aimed directly at them. That eliminated fusion. Some had imagined an intense beam source hidden on a nearby proto-comet, but the object swooped and swerved far more adroitly than any sail-based propulsion could possibly accomplish.
Meanwhile, gravity-wave observatories were scrambling to interpret a flood of data. Eva was like a kid in a candy shop. Quantum gravity was her specialty and passion; her repeated best efforts had yet to get Art deeper than five minutes into a description of her research.
“Damn,” he said. It was an expression of wonderment, not anger. “It's for real. I can't imagine how that many varied observations could be faked.” The test had been designed in consultation with UP military and UPIA experts, whose most advanced experimental jammers and spoofers could not fool even a fraction of the electromagnetic probes just deployed. “There is a real object out there with a real interstellar-drive capability.” Excited voices across the crowded bridge agreed.
Ambassador Chung managed to simultaneously beam and scowl. The scowl, Art assumed, was for his sole benefit. “The K'vithians told us they have antimatter capability—and they proved it. They said they have a lifeboat equipped with a non-reaction, interstellar drive to offer us—and they proved that. Dr. Walsh, does your cynicism require any additional hugely expensive experiments insulting to our guests?"
Why wasn't he convinced even now? As though reading Art's mind—but more likely the doubts plainly written on his face—Keizo privately netted his mantra, “Aliens are alien.” Meaning: It's unreasonable to expect always to understand the Snakes, or their approach to problems, or what data about themselves and their most prized technology they volunteer. Meaning: Eva's frustratio
n that questions about the interstellar drive were invariably deflected proved nothing.
All eyes were on Art, awaiting his response.
Objectively, how could the answer be in question? The drive was said to be unsafe to operate deep within gravity wells. He could hardly expect the Foremost to sacrifice a vehicle to prove that. He faced Chung squarely. “No, sir."
But in Art's heart there followed a caveat: none at this time.
* * * *
“Knight capture by pawn.” Mashkith slapped the chess clock.
“Bishop capture by bishop,” replied Lothwer, hitting his side of the clock. “Check."
“Bishop capture by queen.” Tap. Mashkith's mind was not on the game, but it seemed an appropriate way to await final word from the humans. If he could have spared his full attention, they would have been playing b'tok.
The familiar panoramic holo of Jupiter and Callisto dominated his cabin, but Mashkith was cognizant of a major change. The swarm of freighters had thinned to a few. Resupply was largely complete. “Environmental system status?"
“Near nominal again.” Lothwer advanced a pawn and tapped the clock again. “Sulfur dioxide levels in the farm..."
“Incoming announcement from Earth, Foremost. On all major news sources. On time delay."
“Acknowledgement.” His answer, like the watch officer's alert, was netted. Another subvocalization opened an inset box in the holo. “From the start."
Into the inset popped a cloth-covered lectern bearing the great seal of the United Planets. Ambassador Chung emerged from a backdrop of heavy curtains, clutching a sheaf of notes. Stepping up to the podium, he cleared his throat. “My fellow citizens, I am here to make a statement.
“As you know, I lead the contact team which works closely with our interstellar guests. It has been my privilege to report regularly on our progress, just as I am certain the Foremost, leader of the K'vithian visitors, has enjoyed...."
“Knight to queen six.” Tap.
Mashkith wavered between approval and irritation with Lothwer's casual bravado. True, an announcement was expected. Its content had been negotiated in detail with Ambassador Chung before his final trip to consult with the UP secretary-general. But the broadcast represented the culmination of a plan so long in execution.
Analog SFF, June 2006 Page 23
