Gibraltar Earth

by Michael McCollum

  “Are you asking my religion?”

  Vasloff smiled again. “Not in the formal sense. How a man worships God is his own business. In another sense, however, I suppose I am. Are you expansionist or conservator in your outlook?

  “I haven’t thought about it all that much, Mikhail. I suppose that I favor the idea of going out to explore the stars. That is where our destiny lies, isn’t it?”

  “How do you know that?” Vasloff asked nonchalantly as he speared the last knackwurst.

  "I have ... that is, I had someone close to me who was part of the effort. Her enthusiasm infected me, I suppose.”

  Vasloff watched the storm of emotion reflected in the younger man’s face. He did not pry. “I am a much older man than you. Would you grant that I may have learned something during my time on this battered old world?”

  “Granted.”

  “When I was growing up in my home city of Perm in the foothills of the Ural Mountains, I used to fish with my friends in the Kama River. There are some of the largest fish you have ever seen in that river, and ferocious! You would not believe how they fight. I’ve often wondered what they taste like.”

  “You never ate one?”

  Vasloff turned around to signal the waitress for another beer, then turned back to Mark. “No, I never ate one. The Kama is a large river, about the size of your Ohio, in fact. However, it has been contaminated with heavy metals and industrial poisons since Soviet times. No matter what we do we can never seem to find all of the old waste dumps left lying around by our ancestors. Fishing on that river, knowing that I could never partake of its bounty, that more than anything is what convinced me that I was a conservator at heart.”

  “What has that to do with exploring the stars?”

  “We have a beautiful river and fine game fish, yet because of contamination caused by people 300 years dead, I cannot eat of the river’s bounty. The lesson I draw from that fact is that life is very precariously balanced on this world. We tend to forget that because we ourselves are so precisely matched to our own particular ecological niche. Yet, how could it be otherwise? We evolved to fit this world more precisely than a surgeon’s micron glove fits his hand. We are matched to this, our environment, and no other. My poor Kama proves that. A few heavy metals loose in the environment, some old toxins, and our food supply is no longer fit to eat.

  “With such a precise balance between life and its environment, what are the odds that we will ever find a world as closely suited to our kind of life as the Earth? So close to zero as to be nonexistent! That belief leads me to the obvious conclusion: If there are no other ‘Earths’ out there, why spend our precious resources looking for them?”

  “I had a professor in college who taught us that the formation of terrestrial type worlds is almost inevitable given the correct planet size and distance from the system primary.”

  “Your professor was wrong.”

  “We’ve discovered dozens of worlds with life on them and even have colonies on some of them.”

  “The life we discover is poisonous to us, or lacks the proper nutrients, or has too many things which will make us sick. As for our colonies, they are little more than outposts and never will be anything else. Each of them is clinging precariously to the surface of worlds inherently inimical to our sort. The colonists survive only by artificial environments and the infusion of billions of credits of subsidies each year. Take away their subsidies and those worlds will soon be abandoned. That, my young friend, is the strategy of Terra Nostra. Eliminate the subsidies and you eliminate the colonies! We need that money to clean up the Kama River, among many other needs.”

  “You seem sure of yourself, Mikhail. But what if you are wrong?”

  Vasloff took another sip of beer and said, “Then I am wrong and no one will listen to me. However, I am not wrong. The Holy Grail that the survey seeks does not exist, yet they subject us to danger merely by looking for it.”

  “What danger?”

  “You know that the survey takes very great care with the biological specimens it brings back, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “To date there has never been an extraterrestrial microorganism that could live in Earth’s biosphere. This fact alone proves my point that the planets of the universe are no less individualistic than snowflakes. We cannot live on their worlds and they cannot live on ours. Yet, if we discover a world where we can live, then it also follows that the pathogens of that world can migrate to Earth. What if the survey brings back a plague, Mark? How will we all feel about exploring the stars then?”

  “You are a persuasive advocate, Mischa.”

  “You haven’t yet heard my most persuasive argument about why we should not go out to the stars. Let us assume that your professor was correct and that a terrestrial world circles every star we can see in the sky. Think the scenario through. What would be the primary characteristic of a universe filled with terrestrial worlds?”

  “You tell me.”

  “We know our environment eventually breeds intelligent life. Obviously, so would other terrestrial worlds. So where are they?”

  “Where are who?”

  “The other species who have progressed far enough up the scale of intelligence to build starships. If we can do it, anyone can. Why haven’t they visited us, or at least, sent a radio signal in our direction? That question was first asked by the physicist who was primarily responsible for the invention of the atomic bomb. It is called Fermi’s Paradox. It is the final proof that other Earths do not exist. If they did, their inhabitants would have found us long ago. That they have not done so indicates that they do not exist.”

  “I can see why you have chosen to spend your life crusading against the starships,” Mark said cautiously. Gunter Perlman had warned him that Vasloff was a fanatic on the subject.

  “But you don’t believe me, do you?” Vasloff asked, suddenly all affable again. “Not to worry. The inoculation seldom takes on its first application. Give it time and the truth of what I am telling you will begin to sink in. Now then, shall we order? Afterwards, we can discuss whatever problem you feel is worth giving me CR50,000.”

  The food matched its high cost and both men ate heartily. Vasloff turned out to be a skilled raconteur and enlivened the meal with endless stories of the antics he had seen during his ten years as a public irritant. When both men had full bellies and were lingering over their coffees and aperitifs, the white-haired Russian asked, “Now then, what can Terra Nostra do for you?”

  Mark found himself pouring out his story. He spoke of the death of his parents and that terrible call from the survey telling him that Jani was dead. He recounted his meeting with Amalthea Palan and his feeling that she had not been telling him the entire truth. He ended up by explaining his determination to find out the details of Jani’s death and to hold someone responsible if there was even a hint of negligence.

  “Their story sounds very plausible to me,” Vasloff said after Mark had finished. “Young stars are indeed surrounded by rings of matter and a ship that ran into a small piece would be instantly vaporized. In any event, I do not see how you expect me to help you.”

  “Gunter suggested that you know a lot more about the operations of the survey than is widely known. In fact, he said you have spies at headquarters.”

  “Spies, Mark? I should say not! Sympathizers, possibly. But even if I do, what possible use can they be to you?”

  “Ask them to report everything they know about Magellan’s last mission. Why are they lying to me?”

  “Are they?”

  “I believe so, and if not, then no harm done. The fact that they will not let me visit the ship or speak to the captain tells me they have something to hide. Besides, they are back early.”

  “Oh?”

  Mark nodded. “Usually Jani would be out for more than a year on one of these cruises. Magellan returned after only six months in space. Why?”

  “I really can’t say,” Vasloff replied.


  “I think you can find out. Perhaps it was related to Jani’s death. Maybe her ship did not collide with a meteorite at all. Maybe there was an explosion onboard that killed those eight people and they had to limp home for repairs.”

  “I might not learn anything of value,” Vasloff warned.

  “I’ll take that chance.”

  “Very well, I will do what I can. When can I expect the donation?”

  “Now,” Mark replied as he pulled his communicator from his pocket and began keying in numbers. Another string of numbers from Vasloff sent CR50,000 flying from one account to another.

  #

  Chapter Seven

  Lisa Arden floated cross-legged and gazed at Sar-Say less than a meter distant. It had been nearly a month since she had moved into the alien’s cage and, except for quick jaunts to her own unused quarters following the lifting of the quarantine, she had spent the entire time getting to know her roommate. Her world had shrunk to these six walls and Sar-Say. It took a moment of thought to remember what her flat in London looked like, or for that matter, London itself. She knew she was nearing the limits of her personal endurance, but was too fascinated by what she was learning to quit.

  The good news was that Sar-Say was a phenomenally quick study. He heard everything told him and seemed never to forget anything. Indeed, lately he had taken to quoting entire conversations he had overheard before he could speak a word of Standard. To be able to parrot back formerly meaningless sounds was all the proof she needed that the alien had an eidetic memory.

  Lisa wished that she had the same ability. As an aid to Sar-Say’s learning the language, she was learning his tongue. Many a night she had awakened in her sleeping net pinned to the bulkhead with her mind in a whir as her brain tried to sort all of the new knowledge she was forcing into it. She had almost forgotten what it was like to cram for finals in school. She had been cramming for finals for 28 days now and felt as if each day had aged her a full year.

  Lisa was restrained by twin straps attached to her belt while Sar-Say preferred to wrap his legs through the frame in which he perched. Lisa held aloft a large photograph of a tree.

  “Tree” she enunciated clearly.

  Yellow eyes encountered green eyes. “What ... is ... tree ... Leesaa?”

  “It is a plant that grows on Earth.”

  “Is word ... general ... or ... sp ... specific?”

  “General,” she replied. “It refers to a large number of different plants. Among the trees are pines, oaks, redwoods, eucalyptus, and hundreds of others. We group all of these under ‘tree’ for convenience.”

  “What difference ‘bush’?”

  “A bush is a smaller plant. Trees are much taller than men are. Bushes are about the size of men.”

  Sar-Say blinked and made the gesture that signified that he understood. “The word in my language is ‘sszalt.’”

  “Sszalt,” she pronounced carefully. “That ought to be easy to remember. It sounds like our word ‘salt.’”

  “No, the word is different. You are not hearing it well. It is ssszzaalt.”

  “Ssszzaalt.”

  “Much better,” Sar-Say agreed.

  “Excellent,” Lisa said with a smile.

  “What is next word, Leesaa?”

  Lisa glanced at her chronometer and said, “That is enough for now. We need to get ready.”

  “Ready for my interview?” Sar-Say asked.

  “Yes. Dieter Pavel is most anxious to speak with you.”

  So far, Lisa had avoided asking the alien about the circumstances that had brought him to be humanity’s guest aboard PoleStar habitat. That had not been her idea. Had she had her way, it would have been the very first subject they talked about when Sar-Say had developed sufficient vocabulary. Unfortunately, Dr. Bendagar had forbidden it. Therefore, she had spent her time telling Sar-Say about Earth and humans while he undoubtedly wondered at her lack of curiosity. But then, she often reminded herself, perhaps curiosity was not a universal trait among thinking beings – although she could not imagine a species getting to be intelligent without it.

  “What he-I talk about?” Sar-Say asked after a momentary pause.

  “I have tried to explain our government to you. Did you understand?”

  The small apelike figure shrugged, a gesture that Lisa had learned was somewhat akin to a nod, but with more ambivalence to it.

  “Well, Pavel is the World Coordinator’s personal representative. He wants to learn all he can about your people, how they live, what kind of economy you have, and your form of government.

  “Pavel represents Earth government?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he wishes to ask questions from me?”

  “Ask questions of you. Yes.”

  “I not speak Standard well enough.”

  “You speak it fine. Don’t worry, I will be there to help if you get stuck.”

  “You mean poked with needle?”

  She laughed. “No. It is an idiom. In this context it means if you do not understand something.”

  “I not stuck. I understand.

  “Do you need to use the toilet before we go?”

  Sar-Say shook his head, a human gesture he had learned to copy. “I not eat or drink today.”

  “Unfortunately, we humans are not built that way. Therefore, if you will excuse me for a moment, I will be right out. Then we will go see Dieter Pavel.”

  #

  In the month they had been studying Sar-Say, the medical specialists had concluded that the risk of contagion was minuscule – not zero, but low enough that it was a risk worth taking. The alien’s biochemistry was similar to human, but sufficiently different that one species’ bugs were unlikely to find the other tasty. Indeed, the exobiologists judged the risk to Earth to be less than the risk of an asteroid impact. With that welcome piece of news, Dr. Bendagar ordered Sar-Say’s strict quarantine ended. The decision had been an easy one to make. Working through a couple centimeters of armor glass had proved to be most inconvenient.

  The past weeks had seen the arrival aboard PoleStar of twenty specialists in the biological and behavioral sciences. As quickly as they arrived, they had been put to work studying the living and dead aliens that Magellan’s crew had brought back. While half the team performed autopsies on the corpses, the other half studied Sar-Say. They cataloged the alien’s behavior, physique, and even the microscopic zoo that inhabited his body. For, like humans, Sar-Say possessed a self-contained ecology without which he would soon sicken and die. The research was giving the scientists a new appreciation for the biological complexity of Sar-Say’s home world.

  To house the scientists and provide them with space in which to work, a large section of the PoleStar habitat had been turned into a research center. The cabins around the alien’s quarters were filled to overflowing with all manner of instruments and diagnostic tools. To enhance the free flow of information among the staff, a large storage compartment had been outfitted as a conference center. It was to the conference center that Lisa led Sar-Say. His longer arms made him far more adept at moving in microgravity than she was. Still, he was careful not to lose her as they both transited the weightless corridors. They found Dieter Pavel, Dr. Bendagar, and three scientists Lisa had yet to meet, already waiting for them when they arrived.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” Sar-Say said as he pulled himself to one of the two empty restraint frames at the table. Lisa noted with pride how much his pronunciation had improved. Even a week earlier, the greeting would have been unintelligible to the untrained ear. The alien’s accent was still thick, but improving. In another month, she suspected, Sar-Say would speak Standard better than she did. She only wished that her own progress in learning the alien speech had been as rapid.

  “Good morning, Sar-Say,” Pavel replied. “I am pleased that you could join us. Did Lisa explain to you the purpose of this meeting?”

  “She say you want to know about Sar-Say government.”

  “Correct. W
e know that you come from an association of more than one star. Perhaps you can tell us how many.”

  Sar-Say looked at Lisa and made a gesture that none of the others recognized. There was a hurried conference. When it was over, Lisa said, “You will have to excuse us for a bit, Mr. Pavel. Sar-Say understands our base ten numbering system, but has trouble converting from his own base-twelve math. We need to do some calculating.”

  “Go right ahead.”

  Lisa retrieved a stylus from her pocket and began scratching numbers on a writing pad. Every few seconds she would touch one corner to erase her scribblings and start over. Sar-Say made a few comments in his own language as she wrote. He, too, had a stylus and was making marks on a second pad. The latter consisted of a long series of dot patterns interspersed with swirl marks. Finally, alien and woman agreed. Lisa turned to the others and said, “I make it three times twelve to the fifth power.”

  Pavel glanced at Dr. Bendagar, who was doing the math in his head. He gulped and looked at the coordinator’s representative. “That’s approximately one million!”

  “You don’t understand,” Pavel said to Sar-Say. “I want to know the number of star systems there are in your civilization.”

  “In base ten ... ten multiplied together six times,” Sar-Say said.

  “Sixty stars?”

  “No. Ten to sixth power.”

  Pavel’s eyes nearly bugged. “You are seriously telling me you come from an association of one million suns?”

  “If that is word for ten to sixth power.”

  “But that is impossible!”

  “Why?” Sar-Say asked.

  “The distance between stars, for one. You could never hold such a massive organization together.”

  “Stargate—” Sar-Say halted and turned to Lisa. The two had a conversation that was half-Standard and half-alien speech. Finally, Sar-Say turned back and said, “Stargate make space between stars unnecessary.”