The Asteroid

by M R Cates

  Chapter 31

  The next three days, the prelude to July 16th, went by rapidly, and in a kind of a blur for Sandra Hughes. She was torn among various activities, including regular updates on the asteroid and fragments – all reporting no changes – technical meetings with engineers who were briefing her in general terms on communications, recording systems, and the like she'd be using for the upcoming session with the aliens, and several meetings with Madeleine Vigola and other members of the federal and U.N. team who were basically in charge of her life at the moment. There had been some down time, usually at night, and she'd spent it with Debbie mostly, along with an hour here and there with Carl, Françoise, Reginald Wyler, and Jason.

  On the morning of July 15th, during a scheduled meeting, Sandra asked Vigola about what to say to Debbie about the situation with the aliens that was expected to arise. Vigola replied that she and other team members would tell Debbie what was needed, pointing out that no one yet knew exactly what to expect. That response was what Sandra was hoping to hear. Based on previous experience, the astronomer figured the aliens would begin their process of bringing something down from orbit well in advance – maybe a half day or more – of the scheduled landing time of 4 pm the next day. She wanted to clear her mind of the other, competing attentions, and get back to Asteroid 1744 and fragments. On the evening of July 15th, Sandra arranged to have her first team in the Keck control room. Debbie was settled, at least reasonably well, and they'd had some rest and change of scene. Sandra Hughes had all the days off she wanted.

  Except for Carl, whom Sandra worried about and had sent home, the team was in place by ten-thirty that night. So, of course, was the network in Washington, D.C., ten times as many in number. To lighten up the mood in the Keck control room, Sandra had set up a kind of betting pool, asking for guesses as to when the aliens would first show some sign that they would take something down to the surface. She'd included Carl and Wyler, too, so there, posted on the wall in front of them were the five guesses. Sandra had guessed 3:30 am on the 16th, Françoise had chosen 5 am, Carl, 1 am, Jason, 2 am, and Wyler, sometime after 6 am – the latest they could see clearly from Hawaii. Françoise and Jason knew their own duties well, and went immediately into various routines, mostly having to do with calibrations, double checks, and the like, of instrumentation of various kinds. Sandra looked through some data summaries that had been left by the replacement crew and, through encrypted lines back to Washington, looked over various remarks by the expert teams that were working round the clock on the data. She also called several telescope facilities, especially those in the Eastern Hemisphere, getting summaries of their last few hours of observation. Since six different objects were under continuous study there were numerous summaries to go through. It was almost midnight when she was caught up on the data. The other two were still busy.

  Reginald Wyler had called them about eleven, before he turned in for the night, and Sandra had briefed him on their progress. Wyler's mood, Sandra sensed, was quiet agitation. She thought how like her own mood it was. Before he hung up, he said, “This is a challenging time for you. I just wanted you to know all of us are behind you. The feds have to be, of course, and would be supporting anyone in your position. But we are your long-time colleagues and ... well, if I were a praying man I'd start praying now for you and keep on until we know what will happen.”

  “You know, that was a very nice thing to say. If I were a praying woman I'd be thanking the Creator for all these good and capable people I work with, and for my boss who is dealing with a very difficult situation with the Wisdom of Solomon.”

  “I'm just hanging on for dear life, and you know it.”

  “No I don't, Reg. And I apologize again for not saying 'thank you' enough. As far as I'm concerned, that's the worst failing a person can have, and by damn, I'm as guilty of it as anyone. No, I'd say worse that most.”

  “Call me in the morning when I win your pool, Sandra.”

  “I'll call you and tell you the winner, in any case.”

  “What does the winner get anyway?” he asked. “You never said.”

  “Depends on who wins, Reg.” There was a bit of lilt in her voice, something he wished he could hear more often.

  “That's intriguing. Say, I win, which I will. What do I get?”

  “You or Carl, should you be so lucky, will get a dinner – paid for by me, not our federal funds – at the Mauna Kea Resort.”

  “Sounds good. And, say, Jason or your student, what do they win?”

  “Jason would get a National Park season pass. He's been talking about going to the mainland to see a little of the good old USA.”

  “Very thoughtful. How about Françoise?”

  “Oh, she has been drooling over my hiking and camping equipment. If she wins, I'm giving her a backpacking tent and boots. Turns out she already told me what she wants.”

  “Such a thoughtful major professor.”

  “Keep those students happy, and they'll make you famous.”

  “You're already famous.”

  “Notorious, Reg.”

  “What about you, Sandra? What if you win?”

  “Who knows, Reg? I left it up to the crew here.”

  “Didn't know about that. Do I get a vote?”

  “You'll have to ask Carl. He's the crew chief.”

  “But he's home resting.”

  “He trusts his crew. Good crew chief.”

  Wyler laughed. “Okay, but you won't win anyway.”

  “That's what all this bunch says. Listen, thanks for the call. I will let you know what happens.”

  “Okay, Sandra. Till then.” Then he disconnected.

  Sandra kept the Kecks on Fragment Five during its passage, which would end at about twelve-thirty. During the time out of Keck view, she'd arranged for the Chilean scope to be watching, relaying an image to the Keck control room by satellite. The asteroid itself and the four other fragments were being similarly monitored by other scopes around the world, their images also sent to the Keck control room. The console in front of the team had more than a dozen screens active.

  Just before 12:30 Madeleine Vigola called. Sandra was impressed that the Chief of Staff would have stayed up so late.

  “Everything in order, Dr. Hughes?” came the question.

  “Yes, indeed, Madeleine. Our links to D.C. are clear and double checked.”

  “So I understand? Do you have sufficient support there at the telescope?”

  “Best crew available,” Sandra answered. “And the backup team has a lot of recent experience. They're on call if we want to wake them up.”

  “Good.”

  “Give my greetings to the President, would you, Madeleine. Tell him thanks again. And to the U.N. team. I especially enjoyed speaking with Jeremy Butler recently.”

  “Will certainly do so, Dr. Hughes. If you are satisfied, I think I'll retire, to be ready again for tomorrow.”

  “Get some good rest. Remember, we're trained night owls, and this is our natural habitat. We're just fine.”

  “Good night then.” Vigola hung up.

  Sandra replaced the receiver and kept herself from saying aloud, “We trained chimps have to keep the handlers happy.”

  When Fragment Five, unchanged, left the Keck view, Sandra switched the scopes up to the asteroid. Bringing the full power of her optimization routines back into force she spent ten minutes or so locking onto the best image possible. Sandra thought about the recent neglect that everyone had given the parent body of the visiting aliens. It was so far away, compared with the fragments, that few telescopes could properly observe it, and because of its relative inactivity – as far as they could tell, anyway – it had faded into the background of interest. The asteroid was high in the sky at that moment, and the faint emanations that were always seen from time to time were a little clearer than usual. If these emanations related to communication, Sandra pondered, then they might be communicating about the upcoming landing event. If the landing craft we
re to come from the asteroid, it would certainly be on its way by now, so apparently it would not – or probably it would not – come from there. She knew better, however, than to think she knew these creatures. If they could do what they already had shown they could do, they could probably bring a craft down from 384,000 miles in less than a day.

  Communications by visible light seemed to explain something about the fluctuating light patterns. What role did the asteroid itself now play? It had been the source material for the fragments, but was it needed any longer? Were the aliens still there? Probably, because the emanations were still there, and more or less like before. There were still indications of streaming, hard as it was to prove, between the asteroid and the fragments below. There were no human satellites in orbits that allowed them to pass between the lines between the alien rocks – or not exactly between. Probably, the aliens had positioned themselves that way on purpose. Or had they? Why should they? The streaming light, if it existed, was not like laser beams. It didn't go straight from one location to another, in fact. The best evidence they had was that the faint indications of light farther out from the asteroid and fragment surfaces was more like a diffuse, but directed cloud of light. What, Sandra mused, could be the source of such light?

  Or, she thought, going in another direction, could the light emanations be nothing more than something to do with their energy system, their way of processing matter, and no indication at all of their own presence? It was easy to imagine some automated machinery within each of the fragments and the asteroid, giving out those emanations as a matter of course. The aliens themselves, then, were somewhere else. Maybe in their special life support areas. Maybe all of them in the asteroid. Or maybe all of them somewhere else, beyond Jupiter orbit possibly, directing the asteroid by some means. The number of possibilities was limitless. If the aliens weren't really in the fragments, say, then the landing and proposed communication would all be by some automated process. It was possible they never intended for human beings to actually see them. A fascinating, if frustrating, thought.

  But back to the emanations, the light fluctuations: what could be their source? For human beings to communicate, we generate radio waves, for example, using a power supply and special electronics, then modulate the source to impart information. Surely they must be doing something similar, ending up with visible light fluctuations instead of farther out in the electromagnetic spectrum, out in the radio wave region. But then, maybe they aren't generating their light fluctuations that way, she thought. Could they arise from something more intrinsic about their life forms? A peculiar thought, she knew, because Sandra couldn't imagine how. But everything about them was peculiar. Who'd have ever guessed they'd make those fragments and move them into position they way they did? And those positions: they had to mean something. Geosynchronous satellites aren't put into position just for fun. They are there so they can orient to Earth. But they can also see each other, and maybe send their funny fluctuating lights back and forth. Yes, she had hashed that over before, she knew, as had many experts around the world, but soon she may have to deal with the reality of it, first hand. If the scenario were true, that the emanations linked the asteroid and fragments in some communicative way – and that was everyone's best guess – so what?

  One o'clock passed, lessening Carl's chances of winning the pool, and shifting into Jason's win times very soon. Jason himself reminded them of that fact, then once again at 1:30. From that point till 2:45 he was in the winner's zone. The young man had chosen blue jeans for that evening session, along with a collared, dark green pullover shirt sporting a University of Hawaii logo. Françoise was in her typical shorts and tee shirt, the shorts being denim and nearly knee length for a change, the shirt being pale green with 'Bordeaux' written on it above a decal of ripe wine grapes. Sandra was also in jeans and green shirt, hers lighter in color and undecorated except for “F = ma” printed on the back. Why they all had chosen green shirts for the occasion was certainly accidental, but they did look oddly – at least at some distance – like a team in uniform.

  At 2:15 they took a coffee break. No one had let up much until that point. Sandra announced to the group in D.C. they were doing so, both so they'd watch things more closely for a few minutes and also to remind them again that the Hawaiians knew they were there. Françoise went down the hall for a moment, returning with a bottle of champagne. Or so it seemed from the bottle and its wired cork.

  “What's that?” Jason asked, noticing first.

  “It is wine from Carcassonne area of France,” announced the student. “To open when the craft, you see, begins to come.”

  “Like Champagne?” Sandra asked, coming over to look at the bottle.

  “Like, yes, but not. Same method, of course. It is a special bottle from a case sent to me by my uncle and aunt.”

  “Wonderful,” Sandra said. “So we'll be opening it around 3:30 then?”

  “I think not,” came Françoise's prompt denial. “I will keep it very cold until 5 o'clock.” She grinned at both of them.

  “I'm glad it's cold now,” Jason said. As he turned, the significance of his point became far higher.

  “Look!” Sandra said suddenly, eyes glued to the Fragment Five image coming in from Chile.

  “Encroyable!” Françoise muttered. Jason simply stared.

  The toroid shape had begun to glow at one point along its inside diameter. The glow was a brilliant yellow at first, evolving slowly to a deep red, but growing in size. For three or four minutes the glowing area remained unmoving, then – evoking a gasp everywhere it was seen – it swiftly slid free and vanished from view in less than a second. Sandra looked at the clock. The fragment would be in Keck view within minutes. She dropped into the seat in front of the console and let her fingers go. Jason, his training drilled into him, routed the Chilean spectrographic data into his own work area, to start looking at the spectral information from the process they'd observed. Françoise focused on the space telescope image that was available, despite not being in an optimized viewing position. She signaled to California to broaden their field, knowing they had to look for the moving red (or whatever) color.

  Sandra was doing something similar to the Kecks, broadening their view. And she found the fleeing mini-fragment in less than a minute, moving into view faster than the parent Fragment Five. “There she blows!” the astronomer announced. The little object had faded from red to slightly warm infrared. It was cooling off, she figured. The space telescope found it, too, about two minutes later. By that time Sandra had its orbit. “Spiraling in, as we'd guess. At 400 miles right now. Shape is – what a surprise – like a baby doughnut! If you can call a ... let's say, 60 meter in diameter doughnut a baby. Hole in the middle is ... fairly small. But that's where the damned little plasma jet is. Slowing it down. Let's see, the hole is ... maybe three meters, that's all. Amazing!” Sandra looked back at Jason and Françoise, gave them a thumbs up sign and burst into a smile. “By damn!” she muttered.

  Jason sent the time-dependent spectrum over to Sandra's viewing area, showing the blackbody temperature of the surface dropping from around 800 degree Celsius to about 600 degrees before leaving the original field of view. Sandra estimated the object was around 300 degrees when she picked it up. It was now very close to Earth ambient temperature, maybe 30 degrees. Françoise routed the space telescope view in next to Jason's display. The student, dark eyes bright with unrestrained excitement said, “The Californians, they are so, so excited! I think, Sandra, there is no longer any secret to keep!”

  “I think you're right, Franny!” Sandra said, unaware she'd used an Americanized diminutive version of Françoise's name. “The Chileans are about to break out the case of Zinfandel we sent them!”

  “You should call Dr. Wyler, right, Sandra?” Jason asked.

  Françoise, eyes still lit and a broad smile on her face, asked, “Who is this Franny, Sandra?”

  Sandra turned for a moment, fingers still running instinctively. “Did I
say Franny? I'll be dogged, honey.”

  Françoise was still glowing. “You'll be what?”

  “I'm amazed at myself, Françoise . Sorry about slipping into that Texas brogue. We put y's on the end of everybody's name. Like Debbie. And she calls me Sandy.”

  “Truly, I have heard her,” Françoise said. Their conversation was not impacting the work. Both were on automatic pilot, running through sequences they knew by heart. “If you call me Franny (she put too much emphasis on the second syllable), then may I call you Sandy?”

  “Not hardly, Françoise,” came the gentle retort. “Sandy really isn't my style.”

  “But what about Franny then?” Françoise wouldn't let it go.

  “I won't mess up again, I hope.”

  “But I want you to use it, if you wish, Sandra.”

  The astronomer's concentration was refocused on the scopes. “Look,” she said, “Fragment Five will be in the space scope view now. Have them shift to it, Françoise, er, Franny, if you wish.”

  Françoise laughed. “Yes, Sandra. But I was teasing, you see. Call me what you like.”

  Sandra gave her a quick backward glance, showing a pleasant face so as not to seem too humorless, and dialed Wyler's phone. As she did so, another phone rang. At Sandra's signal, Jason answered it.

  He spoke for a moment then, put the phone back down. “It's D.C., Sandra,” Jason said. “Call them when you can.”

  Wyler had gotten to the phone rather quickly considering the hour, and listened as Sandra described the events that were unfolding.

  “Do you want some help from the backup crew, Sandra?”

  “At the moment we're okay, Reg, but maybe they should be waked up and briefed. I don't think this part can be kept secret any longer.”

  Wyler laughed slightly. “That seems pretty certain, doesn't it. The only thing left to not mention, I guess, is the earlier communications.”