The Asteroid

by M R Cates

“And just what is that, Carl?” Sandra gave Françoise that 'teamwork' look that women use when about to gang up on a man.

  Carl took a sip of wine to achieve a dramatic pause before saying, “As I understand it, my dear ladies, we have not heard word of reply from the aliens, despite many weeks of transmitting greetings to them. Can this possibly be the behavior of a female? No woman can keep her mouth closed for such periods of time.”

  “Arrgh!” Sandra emoted – showing a side of herself that rarely showed – “cut to the quick. Help me, Françoise. He's delivered a mortal wound.”

  The dark haired one wasn't sure what to say but made a game effort. “Well, you see, females only speak when they have something important to say. Perhaps the aliens have no such important thing to say yet.”

  “I'll take that explanation,” Sandra said, almost smiling. “What about you, Carl?”

  “I suppose we have no other choice,” he admitted, actually smiling. “But it is indeed curious what females consider to be important – given that they speak only on important subjects.”

  “I'm leaving that one alone,” Sandra said, going for the macadamias.

  Carl said, “Speaking of replies from the aliens, do you have an idea, Sandra, why they have not spoken?”

  Shifting in her chair, symbolically returning to seriousness, Sandra scratched her head. “I think Françoise is basically right. They have said nothing because they have nothing to say.”

  “So do you think,” the old man asked, “we should continue to transmit to them?”

  “No harm in doing so, I suspect,” Sandra offered. “They certainly must be aware that we have been trying to communicate, and they probably know they haven't responded – or that we haven’t noticed.. It can be logically assumed then that we continue to want them to respond and they continue to not want to do so.”

  “Is it possible, however,” he added, “that they in fact have not understood us? Possibly, for some reason, they can't read our radio signals.”

  “I think the odds are minuscule that they haven't understood us. But just in case I asked that one of our ranging lasers – that we use to monitor the moon's distance – be turned toward the asteroid and the five fragments. It can be modulated to send the same signal we've been sending. The transmission of the laser is in the near infrared. It has taken a week of political deliberation, however, since the request was made. God help us if we have to respond to a real emergency! Anyway, the laser will send out the signals during the early evening – here – tonight. Françoise and I will be at the Kecks when it happens.”

  Carl continued with his line of thought. “Do you believe the aliens have not spoken because they are waiting until they are ready or that they have no intention of speaking?”

  “How could I guess something like that, Carl?” Sandra said. “Tell me what you think. What are they up to, anyway?”

  “I'm thinking they have a very hard task, ladies.” He looked at both, to include Françoise. “Trying to understand the human beings on our planet cannot be a very simple thing.”

  “I agree,” Sandra nodded. “But then how long have they been observing us? Radio and television transmissions have been sent out on earth for quite a long time now. If they could pick any of those up, they could have been studying us a hundred years or more.” Then she cocked her head as she pondered further. “On the other hand, a hundred years may or may not be of any significance to them. How they view time is very unclear.”

  “What,” Carl asked, “if this idea of pulling energy from space is valid? Would that have any bearing on their understanding of time?”

  “Absolutely,” Sandra nodded. “Since the fabric of space is actually a space-time continuum, time could easily be compressed or expanded with respect to how they relate to it. Or ...” She mulled a thought over a moment before going on, “or they could relate to time in many different ways. In a sense they could relate to time any way they damned well pleased.”

  Françoise had to ask, “Why is that true, Sandra?”

  “Because the parts of space-time with mass, like electrons and protons, see – if you want to call it seeing – time in a different way than those parts without mass, like photons. Photons, for example, are always moving with the velocity of light, transforming occasionally – but only when they interact – and are therefore in a kind of suspended time, as compared with particles with mass. When mass moves, it, in effect, is bound by time. Not so with light.”

  “I see your point,” Carl said. “But it would only be true if the aliens had complete control of the space-time continuum.”

  “Not necessarily complete control,” Sandra said, shaking her head. “They only need more knowledge of it, or some ability to predict it, or have some limited control.”

  “Then,” Carl put in, “they might not understand that we are very anxious for them to answer, because they don't sense time like we do.”

  “Possibly. Or – and I think this is more likely – they understand fully how we perceive time and are using that as a part of their planning.”

  Françoise asked, “Are they planning so do some thing, then, Sandra?”

  “Probably. But I'll be damned if I could guess what thing.” As Sandra spoke, she looked up and put out a hand, receiving a drop of rain. “Uh oh,” she added.

  The clouds had thickened during the past few minutes, giving rise to the sudden and surprising shower. Those first drops gave only a three-second warning, followed immediately by a deluge. The two women shrieked and scurried to grab wine, glasses, and bowl of nuts, then race for Carl's back door. The old man took full advantage of his straw hat as he, using his walking stick to enhance his speed, concentrated on getting to the house with a minimum delay. Françoise was laughing like a girl as they scrambled into the kitchen. Somehow, she was more soaked than Sandra, the rain having plastered her dark hair to her head, her shorts to her bottom, and her halter top to her bosom. Considerable detail of female form was revealed in the plastering, but seemed not to be noticed either by her or Sandra. Despite his advanced years, Carl appreciated the unexpected revelation. Sandra was wet, too, but wore such sloppy clothes that the result for her was mostly a darkening of color from absorbed water. The astronomer's hair, however, was thoroughly disarranged by the event, making it even more of a mess than normal.

  The rainstorm was cathartic for all three. In a very overt and visceral way their human frailty and commonality were revealed clearly and harmlessly. After all, it was Hawaii. No sudden gust of cold air would follow such a storm, nor was even a minor chill likely to be generated by the dampness of skin. As they shook themselves in the kitchen, Sandra asked Carl for dry clothes and was soon in his bedroom rummaging through the old man's closet. She selected a couple of long shirts, called out to Françoise, who was drying her hair with a kitchen towel, and the two of them repaired to the bathroom together. Sandra took no extra thought about changing clothes in front of the student, but it seemed that Françoise showed a rather – as Sandra considered – non-European shyness about the prospect and the process. This reluctance on the student's part was even odder, Sandra felt, because Françoise dressed in an overtly provocative way, not dissimilar to many European women. These considerations notwithstanding, the two were dry, with hair combed out, and dressed adequately in men's shirts in only a few minutes. During that time Carl had brewed them each a fragrant cup of steaming Kona coffee.

  Carl had replaced his shirt with another one of similar outlandishness and hung up his hat to dry. He put a towel on his chair in the living room, to absorb the wetness of his trousers, and sat down as his guests found their place, side by side, on his couch. The wine, half drunk, the three glasses, partially full of mostly wine slightly diluted by rainwater, and the macadamias, now poured into a dry bowl, all sat on the intervening coffee table. All three held their steaming coffee cups, happy to ingest some caffeine before continuing with the fruit of the vine.

  “As I was saying,” Sandra said after they'd g
otten comfortable, “before we were so rudely interrupted ...” Then she gave Carl a friendly look. “... and forced out of our clothes in this gentleman's home ... our visitors from who-knows-where are surely up to something. Everyone I know – or don't know – is speculating about what it might be. We would all be grateful for the opinion of Herr Professor Doktor Von Drath as to what might be their purpose in making this unannounced visit.”

  “Well, Fraulein Doktor Hughes,” he answered, returning her gentle mockery, but looked Françoise's way as he did so – perhaps because she graced him with more exposed leg than did Sandra, “as you know I have the advantage, it seems, of not having much direct information about the asteroid, depending almost entirely on the facts you have been willing to share. However, given that ...”

  Sandra butted in for a moment, “You're not saying I'd doctor up the facts, my friend?”

  “Not knowingly, my dear,” he said, adding the endearment term as a little bit of a surprise. He continued, “but I do have some impressions, for whatever they might be worth. Could it be that sentient life such as ours on this very fortunately located planet is very, very rare? And, if so, are we a fascinating and unusual curiosity for these aliens? If we go by that assumption, it would make excellent sense that they would treat us very carefully indeed. It is a possibility that we are the only other life forms they have ever encountered.”

  When neither responded immediately, he added, “What seems most curious to me, however, is the fact that these aliens have come into our midst within a captured asteroid. It is peculiar that such a huge mass would be selected as a kind of rocket ship. Could it be that the aliens are actually quite vulnerable creatures and need the enormous mass as a kind of shield against some kind of emanation that we are giving off without knowing it?”

  Sandra nodded her head and finished the coffee. “A twist I for one hadn't considered, Carl.”

  He then said, “Or the rock could be a shield against themselves – on our behalf.”

  “Or,” Sandra added, “simply a place to stay out of sight.”

  “But,” he reminded her, “a very thin wall would be all that was needed. These rocks are hundreds of meters thick.”

  “What do you make of that, Carl? Are we talking about radioactive creatures who would be detectable?”

  He mused a moment. “Life forms, as we understand them, are made up of extraordinarily complex molecules, built on chains of carbon atoms. If we assume that the aliens are similarly constructed, it seems unlikely that radioactive materials should be present in any quantity.”

  “Because,” Françoise broke in, “the complex molecules, you see, would be broken down. Though maybe, you see, they need the frequent mutations for their evolution.”

  “Yes, Fraulein,” he nodded, using the German term without noticing. “Possibly. But perhaps we could also consider a magnetic field or some kind of polarization of their body chemistry, requiring shielding – at least in their thinking.”

  Sandra was scratching her head. The process was actually easier and more natural now that her hair was combed down out of the mass that had previously been piled up on her head. Moving a little to reach the wine, she took her glass, sipped, then said, “Carbon chemistry. Is it possible, Carl, that complex biological systems, like us humans, could survive whatever long progress through space that the aliens have taken, to get them here?”

  “Why, Sandra, must they have taken a long 'progress,' as you put it?”

  “Minimum of four-point-two-two light years, my friend.” Sandra turned her head to glance idly out the window. Rain was still falling but slowly. The soaking shower – typically – was now a thing of the past.

  “You say, then,” Françoise picked up the thought, “that they must have come from the Centauri stars or farther?”

  “That's my guess,” Sandra nodded. “We've done a fair job of exploring this solar system. And, if we take carbon-based life as a given, there are only a few possibilities nearby: Earth, Mars – in a stretch, the water of Europa, and within the gas layers of Jupiter, Saturn, and maybe Neptune and Uranus. Few other real chances, I'd say. But life formed in water or in gas layers, with no solid ground, if it stays in those sites, is not coming to call on the Earth. And if it had had some desire to leave I'm betting we would have noticed transmissions, ships, or whatever. All those planets are being studied to death – by graduate students, if nobody else.” She looked knowingly at Françoise. “Besides, our aliens have power to move gigantic rocks around. That kind of release of energy would have been noticed, believe me.”

  “As indeed it was,” Carl noted.

  “As indeed it was,” Sandra agreed. “So, can carbon based life survive long enough to make such long journeys?”

  “You mentioned,” Carl pointed out, looking at Sandra, “that the aliens may have more effective access to energy than we do. Perhaps they also can slow down or freeze life processes, or if they can push mass fast enough, enjoy time dilation.”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “That's the main clue, you know. Their amazing ability to produce energy. I'm even willing to consider some kind of life that's, well, not protoplasmic.”

  “How could such life arise, then?” Carl asked.

  “Hell, I don't know,” Sandra shrugged. “But I can't imagine other apes like us romping around between star systems, slinging asteroids into whatever precise orbit we want. Can you?”

  “Nothing about this event can be easily imagined,” he said.

  “I just hope we find out something about these damn aliens,” Sandra muttered. Then she lifted her nearly-empty glass. “A toast. To truth. And soon.”

  “Prost!” Carl said.

  “A notre santée!” said Françoise.

  Chapter 17

  The last day of June, Sandra boarded a plane in Kona, along with her boss Reginald Wyler, for a trip to Washington D.C. This would be her first visit to the nation's capital since the arrival of the asteroid, and the second for her boss. Wyler had spent a few days there conferring with some of President McBrand's staff in mid March. Coming out of Wyler's meeting had been the federal funds that now supported a large portion of the worldwide effort to monitor and communicate with the mysterious asteroid. Many things had changed in three and a half months, but some major things had not. There was still no contact with or clear understanding of the intention of the aliens. Five satellites were uncomfortably close to Earth, especially Fragment Five, and the original asteroid continued its uninterrupted orbit at twice the moon's distance.

  Sandra had assigned her new technician, Jason Nagato, to support Françoise Marnier at the Keck Observatory. In addition, several of the main astronomy staff had already been shifted to support Sandra's asteroid program, leaving her confident that the shop would be well kept while she was away. The trip's purpose was for her and Wyler to make personal appearances before members of the President's staff. Representatives from the Senate's Homeland Security Committee and the House's Defense Appropriations Committee had also been invited. Sandra's communications with the American government up to that point had been in person only with lower level staff that had come to Hawaii specifically to be briefed, or direct conversations with the President and others on an encrypted telephone line. Pressure had been applied, through Wyler, for several weeks to get Sandra's sworn and direct testimony. She was considered, world over, the main authority on the asteroid, and a kind of folk hero. The apparent lull in the alien activity had been excuse enough to go ahead and accept the invitation, so Wyler had done so. Convincing Sandra to go without protest would not, however, have been possible without the direct invitation of the President himself, who had called her from his desk in the Oval Office.

  —

  If talking with the President of the United States on the phone was relatively easy for Sandra, testifying in person before Washington dignitaries was an altogether different thing. The astronomer felt more than a little apprehension as she sat down at the table in a hearing room of the West Wing.
The meeting was closed to the public, of course, but would be recorded by close circuit cameras and audio recorders. Several people, most as young or younger than she – all dressed in business suits of either the male or female type – were busying themselves at the semicircular table that faced her, where various presidential staff members were expected soon. These support personnel would remain on the fringes during the meeting, operating recording equipment of various kinds. Sandra went through a few pages of notes as she waited, managing a calm demeanor. About ten minutes late, Martha Winston, one of the deputies to Chief of Staff Madeline Vigola, appeared with a briefcase. She sat down, nodded toward Sandra, then introduced herself. Winston seemed all business, was probably forty, slim, medium build, color, and featured, perfectly groomed, and seemed – Sandra thought – rather too serious to be much fun. It was clear from the first words out of the deputy's mouth that Sandra Hughes was supposed to know that, famous scientist or not, this was Washington, the 'big time,' and Madeleine Vigola, the Chief of Staff, was the person in charge here. For her part, Sandra mostly ignored the exposed attitude, expecting no less.

  As they were speaking, a middle aged man, Laughton Van Camp, another deputy arrived. He was a little older than Winston, shorter than she, and noticeably more pleasant in tone than his fellow deputy. As Van Camp was greeting Sandra, their boss, Chief of Staff Vigola herself entered. Vigola was close to sixty, hair entirely gray, slightly on the plump side, a woman possessing an air of confidence and professionalism. Like her female deputy, Vigola wore a dark blue business suit and medium height heels. She fairly reeked of keenness and intensity. And Sandra knew very well that no one could be in her vital position without having considerable talent and intelligence. The Chief of Staff came around the table to shake hands directly with their guest. She introduced herself, making powerful eye contact, glanced back at the gathering assembly, then moved up to her seat. When she sat down it seemed obvious that the three of them would begin the meeting.