“Still,” Magnus continued, “reality always seems to be stubbornly one, with possibility only a sweet mirage.”
Juan stood up and paced. “The question is what will the ships and the web do to our kind?”
“Some good, I hope,” Malachi said, “by taking away the problems of scarcity.”
Juan stopped pacing and sat down. “I just don't believe that a world of plenty will change human insides. Motives of power will affect how we change over to an energy-rich culture, and be with us long afterward.”
Malachi said, “I don't see anything happening very quickly in the applications of the alien technology. Limited exploration of the web will be all we can manage. Perhaps even that will be forbidden when we tell Summet about the variant effect.”
Juan took a deep breath. “Maybe delaying things is the best we can do.”
The door chimed.
“Come in,” Juan said.
It slid open, revealing Titus Summet and three men. They stayed outside as he came in and the door closed. He paused and looked at each person in turn. Juan gave him a nod. Lena stood up and sat down at one end of the sofa. Malachi leaned back at the other end and hooked a leg over the armrest. Magnus went to the window, glanced outside, then turned to face the gathering.
“Sorry I'm late,” Summet said, grunting as he sat down in the empty chair. His graying brown hair and bushy eyebrows were unchanged, as was the scowl that twisted his eyebrows and deformed his nose. “I didn't want a hearing, but we're stuck with it.” He shifted his stocky frame.
“Who'll be there?” Juan demanded.
Summet crossed his legs. “Security heads. ERS national chiefs. A few regular UN people. As few people as possible.”
Juan leaned forward in his chair. “And you're here to tell us what to say.”
Summet gave him a look of exasperation. “Now you know that we only have two choices—reveal everything or be selective. And it's pretty much up to the three of you, isn't it?”
“What do you mean?” Juan asked.
Summet looked around the room. “I want all of you to be satisfied. What would you have happen from all of this?”
“Are you so concerned?” Juan said.
Summet smiled at him. “Okay, Juan, I won't pretend to understand your motives. Maybe your dislike of me is understandable. I'll try to explain myself to you. The three of you are closest to what's been discovered, so I give you credit for having the best view of it as of now. It's bad science to keep secrets, and they can't be kept without eventual harm and embarrassment to all concerned. So tell me—what do you all know that will help us? Juan, I know I've been unfair to you in the past. All I can say is that my actions were necessary, and I'm sorry if you were offended. It wasn't personal, I assure you.”
This was not quite the man Juan had known, even though the other might have said the same things in this situation.
“The ship took you on a ride,” Summet continued, “but it didn't bring you back. According to Rassmussen's report, you concluded that the ship you left in and the ship through which you returned were being used to set up an interstellar transport system, and that the builders left through the frames once the ships were in place.”
Juan nodded.
“And the ship in the Amazon is still linked to the ship that carried you away?”
“That's correct,” Juan said.
“And you believe this alien system is quite extensive?”
“Yes.”
“Now, what aren't you telling me?” Summet demanded.
Juan glanced at Lena and Malachi. Their expressions seemed to be saying that it was up to him. He looked toward Magnus, but the older man was gazing out at the New York skyline.
Summet said, “Juan, I know how you worry about things. Well and good. So do I, in my own way. But you can't live and not get your hands dirty, not if you want a chance to act and get a few things right. That's all the chance you may ever get, imperfect as it may be, to make things come out better than they would otherwise. You can't expect more from people, or from yourself.”
A villain always imagines he's a hero, Juan thought. “You settle for too little,” he said softly, noticing a roach making its way across the vast plain of the green rug.
Summet glanced at it when it came by him. “You're politically naive, and very lucky. Without this discovery you'd have priced yourself out of all human give-and-take.” He paused, as if struggling with himself. “Why don't you tell me how we should handle this hearing?”
“You sound fearful of it,” Lena said.
Summet shrugged. “You can be forced to appear and give testimony.”
Juan stood up. “Are you threatening us with your goons?”
“Sit down, Juan. Do you want to destroy your career? I won't be able to help you past a point. Let me turn the question around. What's got the three of you so on edge? Tell me and I'll help. There's no other way.”
Juan looked at Malachi, then at Lena as he sat down. Summet stared at him for a few moments. “Okay, we'll let it go. Maybe your judgment is better than mine and I shouldn't know more right now. But tell everything at the hearing that I know up to now—no more, no less. Or are you planning to surprise me there?” He leaned forward. “I'll be as naive as you are and ask you—is that what you're planning? I warn you, security is sifting through everything it can get its hands on. Care to speak up now?”
“Just what is security doing?” Lena asked.
Summet waved his hand. “Just a run-through of your movements since you left Florida. Routine checks. Maybe they won't find anything, but if they do, it's out of my hands.”
“Just what is in your hands?” Juan asked, looking over at Magnus, who was still staring out the window.
Summet sighed. “Not as much as you'd think.”
20. THE HEARING
“Dr. Obrion,” Chairman Yamamura said, “we've read Dr. Rassmussen's debriefing report. I think I speak for all of us here when I say that what we want from you now is not more details, but your assessment of the discovery's importance.”
They sat around a doughnut-shaped table, under a ceiling of white light that seemed uncomfortably close. Six national ERS chiefs were present. Magnus and Summet were seated at the chairman's right.
“What did you learn of the ship's functioning?” Yamamura continued. “And why did it leave suddenly?”
Juan glanced at Lena and Malachi, who sat at his right. “We learned enough to survive, when one of us—quite by accident—discocvered the ship's replicators, which enabled us to duplicate our food and gear. In time we came to suspect that the ship draws power directly from a net of stars, thus avoiding the need to carry the vast amounts of fuel necessary for interstellar voyages.”
The big Hawaiian shifted in his chair and smiled. “Be more specific. Dr. Obrion, so that my colleagues can appreciate what this technology might mean for our food and energy economies.” Yamamura motioned for Juan to continue.
“Sun stations sit at the cores of net stars,” Juan said, “but in hyperspace, congruent with the star's position in our space. Unlimited power, practically speaking, flows through the foreshortened channels of this otherspace, feeding, I suspect, a whole fleet of starships. The cores of the power units within stars wink in and out of normal space to draw energy from each star in the web.”
“If I may ask, Dr. Obrion, and please don't take offense, but how did you find all this out?”
Skeptical looks appeared on the faces of the other chiefs. The Russian scowled; the Chinese shifted nervously in his chair. The European seemed bewildered, while the South American smiled. The tall African was doodling on his notepad.
“Well, no one came and told us,” Juan said softly.
The South American laughed. The Russian chuckled.
“What led us to our conclusion,” Juan continued, “was a series of events. The ship attained a significant fraction of light speed. We concluded that from the color shifts we saw in the stars fore and aft. Then, as
we approached a star, the ship winked in and out of normal space, as if taking a navigational sighting, and jumped into otherspace for the approach to the suncore station. We can't be sure why it made this stop, but it might have been for maintenance. As the ship left the station, we saw the same sun again in jumpspace and in normal space.”
“Remarkable,” Yamamura said after a moment of silence. “Do continue, Doctor.”
“The ship took us a great distance, possibly even to the red limit of the universe as measured from Earth. As you know, we were separated from the ship, but the way we returned to it revealed to us the more advanced transport system that brought us home. That system itself, given ships powered through a web of shortspace connections, is a logical development from a ship system, implicit in the way the ships function and are powered. We're not certain if the patterns of frame travelers are destroyed and recreated, or if any two frames simply collapse distance between entrance and exit, but we can see how such a system grew.”
“Please be more detailed,” Igor Altov said.
“The ships came first,” Juan continued, “but when the power web was formed, making interstellar jumps possible, it also laid the basis of the frame system. The ships were then used to set up the frames, and remained useful for local travel, but it was no longer necessary to send elaborate vessels through either normal or jumpspace, except to extend the web. These ships were probably developed from primitive forms of interstellar craft—costly generation arks and relativistic ships, demanding huge sacrifices of time and energy to move from star to star. The first jump ships needed even more energy, but they gave the alien engineers the capacity to enter otherspace, and hence to invade the cores of suns and harness their power, transmitting along foreshortened lines to ships which could now go anywhere and never lack for fuel. With the control of increasingly larger amounts of energy, culminating in the suncore taps, they were able to send ships to any distance, expending as much energy as was needed to do so. Whatever it took, they had it. And then they simplified passage by adding frames at the terminals of the web's power flow. This final step established frame links between ships, using the lines of power transmission through jumpspace, and joined all suncore stations, all ships, and all visited worlds, as well as providing the means to expand the web. The ships remained useful for local journeys and for setting up new terminals, but became unnecessary for most interstellar passages. Many were abandoned, or left as terminals as various worlds.”
“And you've seen this for yourselves?” Yamamura asked.
“What we have seen,” Juan said, “suggests this logical line of development.”
There was a long silence. The chairman said, “You're telling us that the solutions to the major problems of human survival already exist, that aliens have accomplished more than we can hope for in centuries of technical progress.”
Juan nodded. “I'm sorry our kind seems a piker in the larger scheme of things, but you wanted an assessment.”
“So where are these starcrossers?” Altov demanded.
Juan leaned forward and folded his hands together on the table. “Our encounters, if we can even call them that, were ambiguous. We felt that our minds were—well, visited on several occasions, by what might have been some kind of teaching program originating in the ship's systems. We never met with any living beings. There was a pile of skeletons in one of the ship's chambers, and we saw images of humanoid types, but we didn't meet any living entities.”
The Russian cleared his throat. “So this vast system is deserted?”
“As far as we explored, there was no life.”
“So where are they, Doctor?” Altov asked. “So advanced, so mighty. Do you think they all perished?”
Juan looked directly at him. “We just don't know.”
“Doctor, we have something of a problem with your presence here,” Yamamura said suddenly. Altov swallowed hard, then took out a cigarette and lit it. Juan sat back and waited.
Yamamura frowned. “We have reason to doubt your identities.”
“What?” Juan asked.
Summet stood up. “Mr. Chairman, I'm afraid you are the victim of erroneous security reports.”
“With all due respect to the ERS chief,” Yamamura continued, “Juan Obrion, Lena Dravic, and Malachi Moede do not seem to be the same people who disappeared when the alien spacecraft left Antarctica. Their eye color and fingerprints fail to match our records. Granted, eye color may be a matter of shade and lighting, but the fingerprints are off just enough to make it impossible for these people to be who they claim. We have this from routine security procedures.”
Summet said, “Mr. Chairman, eye color can be changed. Fingerprints can be matched perfectly in a surgical double. So why would anyone bungle it so obviously? You've merely turned up technical mistakes in the records. I have mascon satellite readings for the location of the ship from which these three scientists emerged. Who is it you suspect, and what motive would they have?”
Yamamura shrugged; his face sagged. “I don't wish to accuse anyone.”
A young man with blond hair walked into the room and sat down next to Altov. Ivan Dovzhenko, Juan noticed, still looked too stocky for his height.
“Please sit down, Dr. Summet,” Yamamura said. “I want to question these people further, if you please.”
Summet sat down; his eyes narrowed as he glanced at Juan.
“Dr. Obrion,” Yamamura continued, “if that is who you are—can you enlighten us about any of this?”
“The three of us are not responsible for the mistakes of others,” Juan replied.
Yamamura was silent for a few moments, then said, “The three of you will be detained until this matter is resolved. Security officers will meet you as you leave the chamber.”
Summet stood up. “No, Mr. Chairman, they'll remain free in my custody, according to the written authority I have here in my pocket, a copy of which has been transmitted to your office. Dr. Obrion and his colleagues will stay at their hotel. My own security team will be responsible for them. I suggest that you stop wasting ERS time.”
Yamamura sat back and wiped sweat from his face. Then he picked up his water glass and took a long sip. “Meeting adjourned,” he said, glaring at Summet.
* * *
“Yamamura's an ass,” Summet said back in the hotel suite. “Sooner or later he'll hang himself.”
“Careful,” Malachi quipped, leaning against the door. “We may be bugged.”
Summet sat down in the straight-backed chair. “This is one of my safe places. That's why you're all here.”
“You knew, didn't you,” Lena said, sitting forward on the couch.
Summet nodded. “I knew about the eyes and prints a few hours ago. Yamamura tried hard to delay my getting the information.” He smiled. “Obviously the three of you haven't been redoing yourselves—so what's the explanation? My security people are very puzzled.”
Juan was silent as he sat down in the heavy chair. Lena and Malachi looked apprehensive.
“We've got to get along better,” Summet said, sounding worried. “Look, if you three can explain what's happened to you, I can get the UN Sec General to demand Yamamura's resignation. The man has no judgment about complex issues, especially when it comes to Russians and Chinese. It's all heroes and villains to him, and I'll be damned if I'll have him around any longer. He's also slow—he doesn't know yet that the Russians found a third ship in the steppes of central Asia.”
“We suspected there might be a third ship,” Juan said.
The door buzzed. Malachi stood aside. It slid open and Magnus came inside. “I have news,” he said, sighing as he sat down next to Lena on the sofa.
“Well, out with it,” Summet said.
“The ship found by the Soviets has taken off with three of their people on board.”
“They walked right into it,” Juan said, “just as we did.”
“Dovzhenko's very upset.”
“How did you find out?” Lena asked.
“They told us, but we also had routine satellite pickups and eyeball sightings from one of the Low Orbit labs. The sphere came up fast and was gone in an instant. Shook our people up.”
Malachi chuckled to himself.
The door buzzed. “Come in!” Summet shouted.
The door slid open and Ivan Dovzhenko entered, looking dour. Summet got up and gave him his chair. The Russian smiled uneasily as he sat down; he was no longer the self-assured man Juan had met in the Antarctic. “Do you think I could have a drink?”
“Vodka?” Summet asked as he went over to the phone.
“No, Scotch, please.”
“Add a bottle of bourbon,” Juan said.
Summet punched in the order.
“You've lived in the West for some time, haven't you?” Lena asked.
Dovzhenko nodded, as if confessing a sin.
“Now, Ivan, what is it?” Summet asked. “Is your job in danger?”
Dovzhenko smiled uneasily and asked. “They all know?”
“Of course.”
The red light went on over the bar. Malachi went over as the panel opened, took out the tray, and carried it to the coffee table. Dovzhenko pulled his chair over, leaned forward, and poured himself a shot. “Excuse my manners.” He took it fast and let out a deep breath. “That's better. Miserable stuff.” He looked up at Summet. “You're going to have to send your people after our ship, since they've had the experience. Dr. Obrion, can our group get into fatal difficulties?”
“We might easily have not returned,” Juan said, pouring himself a drink over ice. “Why did they enter the ship? You knew the danger.” He gave his drink to Lena and made himself another.
“I would have prevented it, if I had known in time. The ERS report should have been warning enough, I suppose, but the curiosity of our people was too great. I think my superiors wanted a team in the ship whether it took off or not, even if it endangered lives.”
Summet sat down on the arm of the sofa. “But the report clearly suggested that the first ship took off because it was entered.”
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