Worlds in Chaos

by James P. Hogan

  “But it goes further. The whole question of how the Solar System was formed might have to be rethought. There’s work going back to the last century that no one has ever refuted, saying that neither of the traditional tidal or accretion models can be right. Because of its disrupting effects, none of the inner planets could have formed inside the orbit of Jupiter. If so, then where did they come from? An obvious thought is that if Venus and Athena originated by fission from Jupiter, then maybe the others did too, which makes Jupiter not just a comet factory but a planet factory too. And that’s exactly where the Kronian line of thinking is taking us.” Salio took a drink at last and paused again to think for a moment. “The biggest problem is to account for the circularization of orbits. Conventional theory doesn’t do it, and that’s where the Church of Astronomy is going to be digging its heels in.”

  Keene sat back and looked at him, amazed. They had converged totally. “Would you believe I was talking to the Kronians about just that very thing last Monday night?” he said.

  “You’ve actually met them?”

  “That was one of the reasons why I was in Washington.”

  Salio looked impressed “And do they have any ideas?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Keene answered. “I think they might.” He paused, waiting for a reaction. Salio waved for him to continue. “Well, go on. Now I’m the one doing the listening.”

  “What would you say to the suggestion that the orbits aren’t always determined purely gravitationally?” Keene replied. “Suppose an event like Athena could alter the electrical environment to create a temporary regime in which charge-induced forces became significant. Mightn’t that make a difference?”

  Salio didn’t answer at once but stared at him long and fixedly. “Is there some reason to suppose that’s true?” he asked finally.

  “I think the Kronians might have some good reasons, yes,” Keene replied. He went on to summarize what Sariena had said about the Kronian findings and the arrangements being made in Corpus Christi to compute the implications. Naturally, Salio was intrigued. Keene promised to keep him posted on the outcome.

  Back in Salio’s office, Keen finally got around to asking the question that had been his prime reason for coming to see Salio. “If Amspace were to arrange media coverage and so forth, would you be willing to go public with the kinds of things you’ve been telling me this morning?”

  “I’d be happy to,” was Salio’s reply. “Wasn’t that why I got in touch with you in the first place?”

  “It wouldn’t create problems with the people you work for here?” Keene checked.

  “No. As I said before, as far as they’re concerned it’s just a hobby. As long as it doesn’t affect their budgets, contracts, or completion dates, no one here is going to worry too much.”

  Salio offered lunch, but Keene’s flight departure time didn’t allow for it. He called for a cab to take Keene to the airport, and, to stretch his legs and get some air, said he’d accompany Keene down to the front entrance.

  “So what’s your version of why so many astronomers don’t want to think about it?” Keene asked as they stood waiting. He was curious to see how Salio’s view compared with Cavan’s. “I mean, you and I don’t have a problem. If you tell the ordinary guy in the street that we nearly got wiped out by Venus once, he says ‘Say, that’s interesting. Tell me more.’ Why the difference?”

  Salio stared into the distance. Having to ponder the psychology of such things seemed to be something he was not used to. “Maybe if your whole world is built on certainty and prestige, the thought of losing it is something you can’t face,” he offered finally. “Ordinary people accept uncertainty and insecurity every day.”

  “Maybe,” Keene said. It was a thought, anyway.

  Salio went on, “And in any case, it’s not true of all astronomers. There’s a lot of politics that I try not to get mixed up in. The astronomers I know out on the West Coast would like to see all this debated more openly. But the International Astronomical Union, headquartered at the Harvard-Smithsonian center in Cambridge, sets the official line. That’s where the lines and Web links from around the world come in to report observations, coordinate announcements, and so on. Its ties are to Washington investment capital and the defense establishment, both of whose horizons are conservative and Earth-centered.”

  Keene nodded slowly. Cavan had mentioned Voler’s recently being nominated for presidency of the IAU. “So what happens on the West Coast?” he asked.

  “There’s a kind of parallel information clearinghouse at JPL in Pasadena,” Salio said. “The IAU is primarily NSF-supported. JPL is operated for NASA by Cal Tech, which, being a private institution, gives it more autonomy. Certainly, a lot of scientists there would love to start launching stuff all over the Solar System again the way the Kronians want us to, but the catch is being tied to government money.”

  “Who’d be the person to talk to out there?” Keene inquired curiously.

  “The best I can think of would be a guy called Charlie Hu at JPL. He runs their communications center and big number-crunching operations. I wouldn’t be surprised if he talks to the Kronians on a direct line the same as you do, but doesn’t publicize it much. Anyhow, sure, I can put you in touch with him.”

  There was only one more thing. As the cab appeared in the gateway to the parking lot, Keene remembered Robin’s theory of dinosaurs arriving with impacting bodies and asked Salio what he thought. At the time Robin mentioned it, Keene had thought it outlandish; now it seemed rather tame.

  “Well, it’s different,” Salio said—with an effort to be tactful, Keene thought. “Is it your idea?”

  “No. The son of a friend of mine. He’s fourteen.”

  Salio looked surprised and at the same time impressed. “Well, as I say, it’s different—but I can see a few problems. Let me think about it. Can you give me his e-mail code? It would probably make him feel good if he got a response from the Institute directly, don’t you think?”

  The TV had been left on in the passenger compartment of the cab. Keene was about to turn it off, but paused when he realized that the item that had just come on featured a senator from New York giving his views on the Kronians.

  “They’re overextended with no credit in the bank. If you ask me, this whole line they’re pushing is a ploy to sucker us here on Earth into bailing them out of a foolhardy venture that should never have been attempted in the first place. Well, I’m sorry but my answer is, we have problems of our own to take care of. No, sir, I will not be voting my support.”

  13

  Judith was spending a year at Protonix to gain commercial experience before going back to university to continue her postdoctoral work. She confounded all the jokes and stereotypes by being blond, pretty, busty, and leggy, and modeled for girly magazines when she wasn’t computing reactor thermal dynamics or charge distributions in ionized gas flows. Her fiancé was from a family that owned a chain of Texas automobile dealerships, but he had passed on his share of the fortune to study and compose music. Keene had never found life to be short on incongruities.

  “We need to modify some orbital mechanics programs that Jerry’s people downloaded,” she told Keene when he stuck his head in her office to ask about progress on his return to Corpus Christi. “I talked to Neuzender at Princeton and he said he’ll help out, but can’t until something he’s working on is done. He asked me to say hi, by the way.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’d say, maybe a week or two.”

  “Um.” Keene pulled a face. “I was hoping we’d have it before the Kronians get down to serious business. Is that the best we can do?”

  “I’ll keep pushing. Maybe we can shave it down a bit.”

  “Whatever you can do. How was the computer thing in Dallas on Saturday?”

  “Not bad. I found the perfect replacement for this machine. It’s just what we need: image-tank driver, voice directable, and with math-pro conditioning.”

  “Sounds great, but I�
��m up to my ears saving the world right now.”

  “Vicki has the brochures, specs, and prices.”

  “Okay, I’ll take a look. How’s everything else?”

  “Celia’s moving along with the Karisaki thing. We should get the draft done by tomorrow.”

  “Great stuff. Catch you later.”

  Back in his own office, he reviewed his messages. A note from Karen confirmed a meeting the next morning with Curtiss and other senior Amspace management to update them after his talk with Salio. Wally had called to say that Harry Halloran’s proposal was now officially accepted, and the tentative date set for the hybrid shuttle trial out of San Saucillo, followed by a landing at Montemorelos, was in two weeks. Pretty quick. Keene nodded in silent approval. Then a header lower down caught his eye, saying that a recording from Gallian had been filed around midday. Keene activated it, and a moment later the familiar white-haired features were addressing him from the screen.

  “Hello, Landen Keene. You’re probably busy, so I’ll just leave this for when you get back and not chase you around on your personal number. We’re leaving Washington for the tour, finally, and looking forward to it—surely the whole planet can’t be as hectic as this city. But I just wanted to let you know that I haven’t forgotten my promise on Monday to arrange for you to see the Osiris. In fact, I have talked to Captain Idorf and asked him to get in touch with you. It is his ship, after all, and he should be the one issuing invitations.” Gallian looked away for a moment. “Well, they’re hounding me again. Got to go. Be our guest, as we are yours. Sariena sends regards. More when we’ve a moment. Bye.”

  And, indeed, the message from Idorf up in the Osiris, inviting Keene to visit the ship, was four items farther down. Idorf regretted that he would have to leave it to Keene to get himself up there, however. Any others that Keene might wish to bring too would also be welcome, since right now there was plenty of space aboard. Keene killed the screen, leaned back, and thought it over. No doubt there would be official vessels shuttling up and down between the ship and the surface for one reason or another that he could probably get a place on, but if his experience was anything to go by it would be a tedious and officious business. The Amspace trial that Wally had said was scheduled to take place in two weeks offered an obvious alternative possibility. Keene warmed to the idea as he mulled over it. If they could kill two birds with one stone, then why not three? He wasn’t listed to go on the trial as things stood, since it involved simply a conventional type of engine that didn’t involved him, but that could be changed. They were using a minishuttle; there would be plenty of spare room. . . .

  He sat forward to the screen again and called Wally Lomack at Kingsville.

  “Lan, say, what’s up? How’d it all go in Washington?”

  “Pretty good, Wally. There’s been more since, too. I’ll be over at Kingsville tomorrow after I talk to Marvin and his people in town in the morning, so I’ll fill you in then. Right now, I wanted to talk about the hybrid and Montemorelos mission.”

  “It’s going ahead—targeted for two weeks from now. I sent you a note.”

  “I know. I’ve seen it. I don’t suppose you were planning on flying yourself, right?”

  Lomack looked surprised. “Why, no. It’s just a regular trial. Why would I want to go? I’ve done enough of all that in my time. That’s what we have crew for.”

  “But you’re CDE. You could change the flight roster if you had a good reason.”

  “Lan, quit playing games. What’s this about?”

  “How would you like to see the inside of the Kronians’ ship?”

  “The Osiris?”

  “Right. I’ve got us an invitation. The fee is that you provide the transport up there.”

  It took Lomack several seconds to satisfy himself that Keene was serious. He shook his head in amazement. “Hell, you were only with them one evening. What did you do, offer them some free consulting?”

  Keene grinned. “As if they needed any. . . . Oh, come on, you know me, Wally. Smooth operator when the occasion calls. So what do you think? Can do?”

  Lomack thought, inclined his head, and pursed his lips. “It’s a tempting thought, all right. . . .”

  “We can offer other places too,” Keene said. “Any number up to what a minishuttle can carry. That should help make it more popular.”

  “That’s true enough.” Lomack chewed his lip for a moment longer, and then nodded. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. No promises, mind, but I’ll put it to Harry. Good enough?”

  “Good enough. Take care, Wally.”

  “You too.”

  Keene cleared down and sat staring at the blank screen, savoring for a few moments the rare feeling of everything in life going right for a change. Murphy’s Law also operated on itself, which meant that it didn’t always work . . . which meant that it did work. He’d never quite been able to figure out the logic. He got up and sauntered into Vicki’s office, where she was busy over pages of program code that she had been working on with Judith. “How’s life on the lower decks?” he inquired, scanning casually over the sheets.

  “It’s going to be tight, but with Neuzender’s input from Princeton I think we’ll make it.”

  “Good.” Keene let it hang for a second. “Maybe we’ve a cause for celebration, then. Never say that the firm doesn’t appreciate the galley slaves.”

  Vicki glanced up. “What does that mean, Lan? Another happy hour at the Bandana?”

  “Well, it would give you a chance to tell me about Robin’s mammoths, which you were going to send and never did,” Keene said.

  “That’s right, I never got around to it. Well, we have had this little thing to work on while you’ve been seeing the sights around Washington, you know.”

  Keene grinned and studied her curiously for a few seconds. “Suppose I said I can fix that trip into space for you that you’ve been waiting for? Would that beat a beer at the Bandana?”

  Vicki stopped and looked at him as if she couldn’t have heard him right. Her eyes interrogated him silently. They had worked together long enough that Keene had the feeling she could bypass sensory intermediaries and verify directly what was going through his mind. “You’re serious, aren’t you,” she pronounced finally.

  Keene made a gesture that was at the same time both nonchalant and expansive. “Even better. How about seeing the Osiris as well?” This time Vicki did come close to looking as if she thought this might be a sick joke after all.

  Keene nodded, his face splitting into a wide grin. “It’s real. So do you feel like celebrating? . . . Oh, and one more thing to add to your list. I want us to order a mixed crate of the best Californian wines to take up as a present to Gallian for organizing it. Did you know he’s partial to wines? They don’t make any of the real stuff on Kronia yet.”

  14

  Accelerating ever faster, Athena crossed Mercury’s orbit and vanished into the glare of the Sun. After attaining a million miles per hour at perihelion on the far side, it would reemerge and become visible again in just over two weeks. While Judith continued working with Jerry Allender and the Princeton advisers on the computations that it was hoped would throw new light on Venus’s early behavior, Halloran put Lomack’s proposition to Marvin Curtiss, and approval came down for extending the San Saucillo–Montemorelos operation to include a rendezvous with the Osiris in the way Keene had suggested. Keene’s and Vicki’s places were confirmed, and after some debate within the company, a draw between members of senior management and technical staff was announced for the remaining seats.

  With that side of things going so smoothly, there had to be some negative news too. The opposition groups who had been stirred up by the NIFTV demonstration were still seething, and the forthcoming trial offered a timely opportunity to register their protest. That the vessel involved this time was not nuclear didn’t matter. The target for attack was the company name.

  A couple of days before liftoff was due, Cavan called Keene at home in his townho
use on Ocean Drive. It was mid-evening. Keene had just been sharing a couple of beers by the pool out back with a neighbor from across the street.

  “Hello, Landen. I’m returned at last to the land of the comparatively sane. Are you in the middle of anything? I have something that I’d like to show you.”

  “No, I was taking it easy for once. So, welcome back. How were Hawaii and Japan? Did the Kronians survive it all intact?”

  Cavan had been one of those accompanying the Kronian party. The strategy he had outlined for manipulating the public’s image of the Kronians had begun to reveal itself. Instead of the independent, free-thinking scientists that Keene had seen personally, they were typically shown as naive, trusting tourists.

  “Most of them are bearing up well, a few feeling the strain,” Cavan replied. “They’ll be going back up to their ship in relays to take a break from the gravity before the negotiations start.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Keene agreed. “How’s Gallian? He has to be the oldest.”

  Cavan snorted. “He’s got more energy in him than a football team. That’s one that you don’t have to worry about.”

  “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” Keene made an empty-handed gesture. “Anyway, what have you got?”

  “I’ve been picking through what’s been going on. The name of your friend David Salio at the Aerospace Sciences Institute has been turning up a lot in the department here. The media seem to be showing an interest in him all of a sudden. It’s upsetting a lot of people.”

  “The Amspace PR people have been busy,” Keene said. “I put them on to that guy Charlie Hu on the West Coast that Salio mentioned, too, and he’s proved a big asset. Science magazine might be running a friendly article, and New Frontiers is interested in putting together a documentary. It’s really moving along.”

  “Did you know that Coast-to-Coast wants to get Salio on the Russ Litherland Show?” Cavan asked.