Resurgence hu-5

by Charles Sheffield

  It was intended to be an easy way to end the talk and hurry over to protect her own stomach, but it produced a surprising response. Lara lowered her voice and said, “There is something else I’d like to talk you about. But not right now. I want to speak privately.”

  It didn’t sound as though Lara wanted another conversation about the Builders. That was a pity. Darya herself would be more than ready for that, especially after they’d had a chance to examine Iceworld.

  Maybe Hans was right after all. Maybe “obsession” was the best word for it.

  * * *

  They had traveled to an alien arm of the galaxy where humans had never been before. They were within an alien star system, and only a day ago they had left a dead and alien world. But alien was relative. There were degrees of alienation. The planet they had come from, with its air and oceans and mountains and what had once been a thriving civilization of intelligent beings, felt like home compared with Iceworld.

  Darya sat by Hans Rebka’s side and alternated her attention between the displays of the ship’s sensors and the planet around which the Savior now orbited. She had to think of it as alternating attention, because they could not see the world in any conventional sense. To human eyes, Iceworld was no more than darkness visible, a black disk revealed by the absence of the stars that it occulted.

  Every other imaging sensor, at every frequency from hard X-rays to long-wavelength radio, told the same story. They detected no emitted signal. The planet was simply not there. Only one seldom-used instrument, a low-resolution imaging device normally used to measure cosmic background radiation, admitted a presence. It reported a unique world where the maximum temperature was little more than one kelvin, and that only in isolated places. In many places the temperature was too small to register—which meant that it had to be less than one hundredth of a degree absolute.

  Nothing in the universe was so cold, nothing in the universe could be so cold. Radiation falling onto a planet’s surface must warm it, raising it at the very least to the 2.7 kelvins of the cosmic microwave background.

  “So it doesn’t exist,” Rebka said. “But there it is.”

  “Will we be going down?” Ben Blesh was crowding Darya, pushing her aside in his eagerness to see everything.

  “Eventually.” Rebka was in the command pilot’s seat. “Before that happens I’d like to learn as much as we can from orbit. It may take a day or two, but I want to fly over every square kilometer and tickle the ground with something a bit more active.”

  The Savior was moving along a spiraling orbit that would in time cover Iceworld’s whole surface like wool being wound evenly onto a great ball. The ship was less than two hundred kilometers above the surface. Such a close orbit would normally decay rapidly because of air drag, but Iceworld lacked the faintest trace of an atmosphere. The planet also seemed perfectly spherical. The gravity field supported the idea of an equally symmetrical interior, and nothing perturbed the Savior’s flight. Only Rebka’s natural caution prevented them from flying lower yet, fifty kilometers or five kilometers up.

  “What do you mean, tickle?” Darya asked. “Don’t damage anything down there, Hans. I want to see the place in its unspoiled condition.”

  “It’s a big planet, Darya. Twenty times the surface area of Miranda. And we’ll only be using the laser in a pulse mode, one burst every five seconds. Don’t worry. We’ll get enough burn to give us an emission spectrum for the points of impact, but we’ll be touching less than a billionth of the total area.”

  “We’ve never experienced anything so cold before. Can you be sure you won’t ruin anything?”

  “Not completely sure. But if it’s a choice of risking a little local damage down there, versus risking our skins when we descend, which do you prefer? Hmm.” Rebka was peering at a screen that displayed a graph composed of sharp peaks and valleys. “Darya, this is the return spectrum—it looks the same for every laser pulse. But it seems your name for the planet wasn’t the greatest choice.”

  “Iceworld?”

  “Right. This is a spectrum of the raw return signal, and over there we have the results after the spectrum analyzer has done its work. It’s reporting not a trace of ice—any kind of ice. No water, no carbon dioxide, no methane, no oxygen, no nitrogen, no chlorine, no fluorine.”

  “No condensed gases of any kind?”

  “Worse than that. The spectrum doesn’t match any material in our spectral signature library, solid, liquid, or gas. You were right, Darya, this place wasn’t formed naturally. It’s not made of any known material.”

  “Are you sure that our laser isn’t disturbing things below the surface?” Lara Quistner was watching another display, this one showing a larger area than the immediate vicinity of the illuminated spot.

  “As I said, not so we should notice.” Hans Rebka checked a dial. “We’re at low power and long wavelength. The top tenth of a millimeter of the ground should account for all the return.”

  “Maybe it does—or maybe low power means something different down there. Do you want to see what I think I’m seeing? Zoom in on a line that trails behind the laser beam, and wait.”

  It took a while, because as long as the moving light of the laser was in the field of view it dominated what the eye could detect. Even when the image moved far enough to put the pulse out of sight, Darya was at first convinced that Lara was imagining things. At last she saw it, so faint that it was at the very limit of visibility. A blue glimmer like a dust devil spurted up at the place where the laser beam had hit. It seemed to boil out of the surface for a moment, then was gone.

  Lara whispered, “They come about twenty seconds after the laser has moved on. What are they?”

  “No idea.” Rebka was changing control settings. “Let’s try some signal enhancement, see if we can get a spectrum we recognize.”

  Before he could finish, a flash of orange startled their eyes. It was bright enough to obliterate all signs of the blue dust devils, then at once it too had vanished. Darya was left with a zigzag afterimage like a bolt of lightning. She blinked, waiting for her retinas to adjust after the overload.

  Rebka said suddenly, “Hey. We got one.”

  “One what?”

  “A spectrum from that flash, one that the analyzer can recognize. We’ll finally understand what part of the surface is made of. Uh-oh. Take that back. We won’t understand.”

  Ben Blesh protested, “But you just said—”

  “I know what I said.” Rebka leaned back in his chair. “I can’t imagine how you knew, Darya, but you were right. What’s down there isn’t just something made by a random alien technology of the Sag Arm. It’s an artifact—made by the Builders.”

  “How can you be so sure, from only one reading?”

  “Because the signal analyzer is telling us. I said it recognized the return spectrum it just received, and it did. It can recognize the material, because there’s a match to a spectrum already in its library. But it can’t identify it. The part of the surface of Iceworld that produced the signal is of the same construction material used to make Phages. What is that material, Darya?”

  “Hans Rebka, you know the answer to that question as well as I do.” Darya turned to face Ben Blesh and Lara Quistner. “We’ve been trying for thousands of years, and still we have no idea what the Phages—and now parts of Iceworld—are made of.”

  * * *

  Ben and Lara had heard about Phages—who in the local spiral arm had not?—but Darya Lang and Hans Rebka had actually seem them in action.

  While the Savior flew its automated survey path over the surface of Iceworld and the ship’s computer recorded, sorted, and tried to organize all the sensor readings, Hans and Darya explained.

  “As much as we know,” Darya said. “You have to remember, Phages have such a terrible reputation that you try not to go near one. The reason you will never encounter them during training is because every exploration vessel employs a Phage avoidance system. They are universal eaters. They d
on’t look dangerous, just a gray regular dodecahedron. Most of them are forty-eight meters on a side, but we have run across much smaller ones. The big ones can ingest something thirty meters across, and as long as you care to mention.”

  “But where does it all go?” Lara’s wide-eyed gaze suggested that she and her companion were ignorant in certain important survival areas.

  “No one knows. It sure doesn’t come out again, and mass detectors measure no change in the mass of the Phage. They seem able to digest anything.”

  Hans added, “Or nearly everything. They can’t eat each other, or the structural hulls left behind by the Builders. We used to think that they were completely indestructible, until we saw smashed remains of some on an artificial moon called Glister in the Dobelle system. Now we know that they and some of the other Builder constructs are stabilized by powerful electromagnetic fields. If that field dies away, or you can impose a suitable counter-field, the material becomes weak. You can push your fist right through a wall of it. I know, because I did it on Labyrinth.”

  Ben Blesh had been listening with the same total absorption as Lara Quistner. He looked away, to where the displays showed the laser beam from Savior steadily stitching its way across the surface of Iceworld. Every few minutes, a sensor observing the wake of the laser reported another flare of orange light. A new one had just occurred. Blesh pointed. “Do you think that if we were down there, we could penetrate below the surface by generating the right field?”

  “The right field, in the right place.” Rebka had followed Blesh’s gesture. “Maybe at a place like that one. But remember, most of the surface isn’t Builder material—or if it is, it’s a type we never met before. But you are correct. Judging from our experience, if we land where we see one of the orange flashes, and generate a suitable field, we will drop through into the interior. We know how to set up such a cancellation field. I wonder if we can define one for an individual suit.”

  “Of course we can.”

  Ben’s answer was no surprise any more to Hans. The suits provided on the Pride of Orion were like everything else associated with that ship: miraculous, compared with anything that Hans had ever seen before. They would feed you, dispose of waste products, deal with wounds (though not the most severe kinds), and even permit a planetary return from orbit unassisted. They did everything but have sex with you, and Hans would not guarantee that.

  Ben went on, “So we might as well set up cancellation fields, for our individual suits and for the whole ship. According to the sensors, they are seeing the same thing over and over again. We get either nothing at all, unless you count that weak blur of blue light, or we see a flash from a section of Builder material. If we’re going to learn anything new, we have to head down to the surface.”

  It was tempting to agree at once with Ben. End the boring survey of an unchanging world from a cramped ship, and move on to where they might discover something that mattered. Hans had felt uneasy before their previous planetfall, because even prior to arrival he had feared the sight of a dead world and murdered inhabitants. Iceworld produced no such qualms. Any danger from Builder artifacts always stemmed from too much human curiosity or a total lack of common sense. He and half a dozen others, including Darya, had almost died on Quake during Summertide Maximum; but no rational creature should have been anywhere near Quake at such a time, after numerous indicators had warned of coming planet-wide violence.

  Only years of experience made Hans shake his head. “We finish the survey, then if it still looks safe we go down.” He glanced at a display showing current progress, and knew his next words would not be popular. “That means two more days in orbit.”

  “But—” “Two days!” “Why do—”

  The response came at once from the other three. Hans cut them off. “I’m sorry. This isn’t negotiable. Ben and Lara, I know you’re impatient to have your turn and show what you can do; and Darya, I know you can’t wait for a chance to explore the interior of Iceworld. I feel the same way myself. But as long as I’m in charge, it’s going to be safety first.”

  His face wore a mixture of uncertainty and bewilderment. Darya could guess the reason for that changing expression. Safety first, when there was no reason to expect any form of danger? Safety first, when Hans was as relaxed about descending to Iceworld as he ever was about anything? Why was he doing this?

  But Hans was not ready to hear questions. He ducked his head, and repeated, “Two more days to complete the survey of Iceworld. Then we’ll see what else we’ve learned. And then we make a decision.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Orbiting Iceworld

  As the hours wore on Hans felt the cabin walls of the Savior crowding in on him. He had established an electromagnetic cancellation field for the whole ship, and also one for each of the suits. Now there was nothing more to do and no way to escape the others. The ship moved constantly over new areas of Iceworld, but the image on the displays did not change. The other three stared gloomily at the monitors, then turned to stare accusingly at Hans. Their faces said it all: Why are we wasting time up here? Why don’t we go down and get on with it?

  They didn’t seem to realize that Hans was as keen for action as they were. He was constantly checking the progress of the surface survey, without any idea what he might be looking for. Whatever it was, he didn’t see it. Before the first sleep period arrived he lost patience—not with them, but with himself.

  “All right. I know that none of you likes this. Let’s try something different.” He did not need to invite them to where he was sitting at the control console. They were out of their chairs and crowding in on him in seconds. He went on, “Ben, you are better with the display equipment than I am. Give me a hand to produce displays of what we have, then I’d like everyone’s opinions.”

  The Savior was flying a polar orbit. As the planet rotated, on each pass the ship covered a different swath of the surface, with every strip overlapping the others at the poles. Hans and Ben, working together, converted the results they had to a 3-D graphic.

  Hans said at last, “That’s good enough. Thanks, Ben. As you can all see, we’ve covered only about one-fourth of the surface, so no one could say this is close to a complete survey. On the other hand, we’ve covered the polar region many times, and what we see so far there and elsewhere shows an absolutely regular and unchanging pattern. First, the obvious: Iceworld is a perfect sphere made from unknown materials, held at a temperature lower than anything has any right to be. Most places give no return signal, but dotted on the sphere in places about fifty kilometers apart from each other we have a grid of points of something else, places where the laser’s return spectrum suggests the surface has a different composition. These areas look like they’re made of Builder materials. Each one is a circular patch only a few hundred meters across, but they are all connected by narrower lines of the same material. The grid patches form a network of perfect equilateral triangles.”

  Hans gave the others a minute or two to digest the display, then went on, “There’s an obvious question here. As I said, we haven’t had a close look at almost three-quarters of the surface. If we did, would we simply find more of the same, or is there a chance that if we stop the survey now we’ll miss something new and important?”

  He didn’t need or want their reply, and went on at once, “The honest answer is, we simply don’t know. So here’s what I propose. It’s close to the time when we usually go to sleep. Let’s do that. By the time we are up again and have had something to eat, the ship will have surveyed another fifteen percent of the surface. We’ll look at the whole result, and if the pattern continues as we have seen it so far, we’ll make the bet that the rest would show nothing new. We’ll go down, to one of the spots that shows Builder material, and tackle the next problem: How do we penetrate below the surface to take a look at the interior?”

  It was a compromise, between the two full days needed to complete the whole survey and everybody else’s urge to descend at once. Hans k
new it, and so did the others, but they didn’t realize how strongly he wanted to agree with them.

  It was a relief when Darya nodded, and after a few seconds Ben Blesh and Lara Quistner did the same.

  They dispersed, to their separate and cramped bunks. Would they sleep? Or would they, from the expression on Lara Quistner’s face, lie awake in excited expectation?

  Hans couldn’t speak for them. He only knew his own plans. When you have something to do, do it. When you have nothing to do, sleep. That was just as true if the next morning would bring an arrival at the safe and wealthy world of Miranda, or a descent to the surface of an unknown world colder than anything in the rest of the universe.

  Hans removed his shoes and lay down in his bunk. He turned off the light. Within thirty seconds he was at the edge of sleep.

  The edge was as close as he got. Hans was skin and bones, so a bunk wide enough for any normal person was ample for him. But that didn’t apply when someone was squeezing in next to you, pushing you up against a cold and unyielding wall.

  The Phemus Circle reaction was to assume you were being attacked and hit back at once. Fortunately, Hans recognized the perfume even before his eyes were open.

  “Shh! Don’t cry out.” A soft body pushed in closer.

  “I wasn’t about to.” He answered Darya’s whisper with his own. “What’s happening? I hoped that at some point we would get friendly, but I didn’t expect it would be tonight.”

  “It won’t. We need to talk. Move in a bit—I’m falling off the edge.”

  “There’s no place to move to. Do you want the light turned on?”

  “No!”

  “Why didn’t you speak to me earlier, when we had space to breathe?”

  “It had to be done in private, away from the other two.” Darya tried to wriggle into a space that did not exist. The warmth of her body against his was pleasant and it aroused more than memories.