The Iceman nodded slowly. “As large as Eurasia.”
“Larger,” Coldewe retorted. “Besides, Eurasia is mostly Siberia and if you melted the permafrost, Siberia would fit in my bathtub.”
Vereshchagin pointed to a great river that ran nearly the length of the eastern half of the supercontinent. Immense lakes caught behind dams graced its length like blue pearls. “On Earth, the first signs of man's presence that one sees from space are his irrigation works. Here, as well.”
Yamawaki pulled his headset off. “Honored Commissioner, Aoba detects small quantities of orbital debris.”
“We expected it, didn't we7' Coldewe gestured. “If the people down there didn't learn anything else from the probe, they assuredly learned that fusion bottles and spaceflight are possible, which eliminates two or three thousand dead ends.”
“We will see what else they have learned,” Kolomeitsev said
“Captain Yamawaki, please advise Captain Kobayashi that he may move into sensor range and commence medium-altitude mapping passes.” Vereshchagin added, almost as an afterthought, “Begin broadcasting the welcome tape.”
The welcome tape, prepared by Esko Poikolainnen at the direction of Dr. Seki and Simon Beetje, was a twenty-two hour tour de force intended to convey the rudiments of written and spoken English. While Dr. Seki narrated slowly, pointing out objects and demonstrating actions, a split screen flashed the written text, with a light bar illuminating each word as Seki uttered it. Poikolainnen had done his best to ensure that the visual images were recognizable well into the infrared and ultraviolet wavelengths. Hologram imagery gave the finished project as much three-dimensionality as possible.
“What are the odds that they'll be able to decrypt your transmission?” Coldewe asked Poikolainnen, who was watching quietly.
“The audio shouldn't pose them too many problems.” Poikolainnen shrugged. “As for the video, we'll see.”
“We will, won't we?”
In Orbit, HIMS Aoba
ABOARD AOBA, THE HOURS SPENT MAPPING THE MAIN CONTINENT’S FEATURES with corvettes Chokei and Jintsu passed glacially slow. Periodically, Aoba disgorged a small, solar-powered reconnaissance satellite in a geosynchronous orbit as part of a growing network.
While the maps based on the probe's data were accurate, the warships could provide infinitely greater detail, and Vereshchagin was most interested in what had changed since the probe's visit.
At the twelve-hour mark, Jintsu docked to change crews, and Aoba's second shift came on. Kobayashi, Jankowskie, and Sery remained on the bridge. To pass time, Jankowskie was playing solitaire. “'Any increase in radio traffic?” he asked the signals rating for the fourth or fifth time.
“No increase since our arrival, sir. However, we do not have a sufficient baseline to determine whether this represents an increase over normal traffic.” The rating reviewed his instruments.
“It would perhaps also appear that a statistically significant percentage of the signals we are intercepting are random.”
Jankowskie threw in his cards. “Ask a foolish question.”
Sery, who bad been napping in the sensor second seat, opened one eye. “Isn't it quiet enough for you?”
“Too quiet, perhaps.”
Kobayashi pointed to the dull glow of lights. “We are coming over a thickly inhabited portion of the main landmass.”
“Big cities, aren't they?” Sery commented.
“Big cities,” Jankowskie agreed. A brilliant white pinpoint suddenly appeared on the darkened surface of the supercontinent below. “Oh, my sweet God. They just fired at us.”
Kobayashi slapped the panel to sound action stations.
The petty officer manning the sensor sang out. “One missile.” He checked his instruments. “At our current course and speed, I estimate impact in seven minutes, twenty seconds.”
“Contact Zuiho,” Kobayashi instructed his signals rating. “Commissioner, we have just been fired upon.”
“Yes, we see it. too, Aoba,” Vereshchagin's voice replied.
“Can you evade?”
“Liquid fuel, most likely. From spectral analysis, it appears to be simple hydrogen-oxygen. We have the legs to run away unless it’s a nuke,” Jankowskie said soberly, leaning over Sery's shoulder to read the instruments himself, “but it is an awfully big puppy.”
“Chokei requests orders,” the signals rating said crisply.
“Give us standoff distance,” Kobayashi instructed his navigator. “Tell Chokei to conform to our movements.” He said to Vereshchagin, “Commissioner, I request permission to engage.”
There was a slight pause. “I imagine Seki is telling Anton not to start ourselves off with these people by shooting back,” Jankowskie said mirthlessly.
“It could conceivably be a scientific probe,” the sensor operator volunteered doubtfully.
“The last one wasn't.” Sery said.
Vereshchagin's voice replied. “Aoba, you have permission to fire. Vereshchagin out”
Kobayashi looked at Detlef Jankowskie. “Captain Jankowskie, please assume tactical command”
Jankowskie nodded appreciatively. “All right. Nicolas, you take over weapons station one, and I'll take navigation.” As he pulled the ship into a parabola, he said conversationally, “Let me know if the missile alters course.”
Seconds later, the sensor operator confirmed his suspicious.
“Nicolas, that’s your cue. I will continue on this course and heading. Lay down a chicken-seed pattern and see if they run into it.” For Kobayashi's benefit, Jankowskie added, “It looks like a modified launch vehicle, or maybe a modified long-range ballistic missile. I see a nose cap to protect it during reentry, but the rest of it doesn't look hardened. I don't think it’s being controlled from the ground, so I want to try two-gram composite particles first. It isn't likely to recognize them as a threat, and even a couple of hits ought to wreck its circuitry.”
“Firing,” Sery reported, having run his calculations. “Two minutes twenty seconds to impact if it holds its course.” Canted at an extreme angle, the composite-particle dispenser under his
control spewed out several thousand tiny particles imbued with fusion energy from the ship's engines.
“The range is rather extreme for composite particles,” Kobayashi reasoned.
“I know.” Jankowskie said apologetically, “we wouldn't have tried manure like this on you.” Two minutes passed.
“On target,” the sensor operator said excitedly. “Hits.”
Several seconds later, the missile's fuel leaked out just behind the second stage and erupted in a gout of flame. The missile's pieces began cartwheeling in odd trajectories.
“Missile destroyed,” the sensor operator reported.
“Reassuming tactical command,” Kobayashi ordered. “Have Chokei resume station. Prepare Jintsu for launch.” He eyed Jankowskie. “Let us send out a pig and see if we can collect up some of the debris.”
“Better tell them to watch for leaking radiation,” Sery said, vacating his seat.
The sensor operator looked up, his eyes unnaturally wide. “Honored Captain, another silo is opening.”
“Are there more silos at that site?”
“Four more, Captain.”
The signals rating automatically patched Kobayashi through to Zuiho. “Kobayashi to Vereshchagin. Missile destroyed. Another launch appears imminent. Request permission to engage launch site.”
Before Vereshchagin could reply, the second silo began to close. ·
Kobayashi didn't realize that he had been holding his breath. After a moment he said, “Dispatch corvette Jintsu. Prepare to recover debris.”
In Orbit, HIMS Zuiho
“HARDLY THE RED CARPET,” HANS COLDEWE COMMENTED, SWEEPING THE TENSION from Zuiho's bridge.
Vereshchagin rose from his seat “That would seem to be all the fireworks for now. Hans, I wish to see an analysis of the destroyed missile a
s soon as practicable.”
Dr. Seki also stood. “Commissioner, I would interpret the launch as a warning gesture. I am of the view that we should suspend mapping passes, and I respectfully request permission to go to the planet’s surface immediately. I feel it to be vitally important for us to assure the naturales of our continued peaceful intentions.”
“If their intention was to convey a message by firing at us, Doctor, I will pretend to be deaf. I would prefer not to encourage them to repeat the gesture. I will take your suggestion to initiate contact under advisement,” Vereshchagin said, expressionless.
Captain Yamawaki bit his lip. “Is it possible that the planet’s inhabitants may not have realized that our ships were manned until we fired?”
The Iceman chuckled. “How devastated they must feel!”
Seki played his final card. “Commissioner, even if the naturales are xenophobic as we now surmise, it merely heightens the need for immediate contact In the long view, the only cure for
xenophobia is prolonged contact and understanding.”
“Or genocide,” The Iceman noted.
“As I have said, I will take your suggestion under advisement.” Vereshchagin repeated.
When Seki left the bridge, Vereshchagin reproved Kolomeitsev gently. “That was unkind of you, Piotr.”
“I dislike substituting sentiment for logic.”
“All right. Piotr,” Vereshchagin said. “Both of us are very tired. I suggest that we both get eight hours sleep, and then we will see how Aksu is faring at gathering intelligence.”
The task group bad two distinct systems for analyzing the intelligence gathered by the network of reconnaissance satellites that Aoba was laying down.
The first was statistical. With little or no human assistance, Aoba's computers converted masses of raw data into statistics on such disparate subjects as number of aircraft sorties, kilometers of paved road. and hectares of arable land. Initially, of course, many of these programs were useless; from a computer’s point of view, few objects on Neighbor bore any resemblance to their human equivalents. The program measuring food production dutifully combed incoming images for the signatures of certain
plants and animals, found none, and reported Neighbor’s average daily caloric intake as zero. An ensign named Arita bad already begun the delicate and laborious task of realigning the program parameters.
The second system was interpretive. Although Zuiho lacked Aoba's sophisticated sensors, Esko Poikolainnen had set up a continuous short-range data link to feed raw imagery directly to Lieutenant Resit Aksu's eight-man intelligence detachment, which was augmented by four Navy analysts and two enthusiastic but inexperienced volunteers from Major Aichi's first platoon.
In truth. Aksu would have needed an army of analysts to review and interpret the mass of images Aoba was recording, but computer screening, refined over decades, winnowed most of the chaff, rendering Aksu's task of providing accurate, timely, and comprehensive information merely impossible.
Unable to analyze activity in more than a small fraction of Neighbor’s thickly populated supercontinent in detail, Aksu obtained Vereshchagin's permission to focus his team's attention on
the cities and villages along a hundred kilometer stretch of the Great River, and the landing zones where Vereshchagin tentatively planned to insert teams. Two team members were given responsibility for reviewing occurrences of extraordinary interest on the rest of the continent.
Aksu smiled and tugged at his graying mustache when Vereshchagin and Kolomeitsev entered his sanctum. “Welcome, honored Vice-Commissioner. Nothing has broken down. Yet.”
The Iceman's gray eyes gleamed as he took station behind two operators, Heiskanen and Kelly.
Kelly's monitor was split to display visual and infrared images side by side, with radio and microwave signatures to provide perspective. As The Iceman watched, Kelly hit the same
button to transmit the current clip to Heiskanen for detailed review. “Judging from the traffic, people are pretty excited down there,” he commented.
The Iceman nodded.
“It will take another thirteen hours for our ships to complete mapping passes,” Aksu explained. “We are now reviewing the southeastern comer of the delta where the Great River runs into the inland sea. What we are seeing are large numbers of villages of thirty to sixty dwellings each. They are separated by what appear to be dikes, with roads running along the top connecting one village to another.”
The Iceman pointed to a series of lines. “What are these?”
“They are probably irrigation channels that connect to the river, but I am not going to say for certain until we have had a chance to examine them further,” Aksu replied “Spectrum analysis shows a monocrop growing in the diked areas.”
From his terminal on the other side of the compartment, Pihkala called out, “Five desserts says they're irrigation channels.”
Kelly shook his head emphatically. “No bet”
Vereshchagin asked Aksu in a quiet voice, “How are your volunteers from Major Aichi's company working out?”
Aksu shrugged. “Ask me in a week.” He pointed to the Japanese corporal sitting at Pihkala's elbow to observe. “Gradually we will let them assume greater responsibility.”
Kolomeitsev asked. “Could you use more?”
“More newcomers would overwhelm us. We spent three months training these two. They are very bright, but there is a certain knack to this work, and it remains to be seen whether they will prove out” Aksu smiled “If you were training Major Aichi's men for A Company, how many would make it?”
“Have you and Hans discussed where to insert teams?” Vereshchagin asked
“Yes, honored sir. He dropped by an hour ago.” Aksu called up a map of the eastern half of the supercontinent and narrowed the focus to the mountain ranges fronting the inland sea. “I see nine potential drop zones, and of the nine, Colonel Coldewe and I would recommend zones seven and eight. We will study them over the next week, and prepare recommendations.”
“Whythese two?” Kolomeitsev asked
“The two zones are situated together, which simplifies resupply. The terrain along the land bridge joining the two halves of the supercontinent is quite rugged and appears to be sparsely populated. which would allow us to fly shuttle missions with small fear of detection. The mountains there also shield us from some of the effects of the jet stream.”
As the probe data had indicated, deep, uninterrupted seas north and south of Neighbor’s equator and an absence of high mountains gave the planet savage winds.
Aksu framed the rocky north shore of the inland sea and pointed to a small, urn-shaped body of water that the team bad designated Jug Bay. Although the only thing Irish about Kelly was his name, he had already named the small river flowing into it the Shannon. “This is zone eight. As you can see, the villages along the coast here abruptly give way to knife-edged ridges that are thickly vegetated and are likely to provide the teams with a safe haven. It also appears to be a good place to collect zoological and botanical specimens for the scientists.”
Aksu shifted to zone seven. “Zone seven abuts on the northern arm of the river delta. The delta itself is extensively cultivated and densely populated.” He pointed to several long, white streaks
along the water’s edge. “These are almost certainly seawalls, and it would appear that land here has been reclaimed from the sea. Despite the supercontinent’s large size, arable land does not appear to be common. Zone seven would appear to be the only place where our reconnaissance people can approach the cities and villages along the Great River with any degree of security. We will, of course, take a closer look over the next six or seven days.”
“Piotr, what do you think?” Vereshchagin asked.
“We will want to send a team to investigate the missile site, but it is likely to be heavily guarded, and I would recommend holding off until we have had a chance to snoop around to ob tain a better not
ion of what we are up against.” The Iceman said judiciously. “Seven and eight would appear to be adequate for our purposes.”
Vereshchagin patted Aksu on the shoulder. “Carry on.”
Interlude
NEIGHBOR’S SMALLER MOON WAS A TINY MOTE IN SPACE, TOO SMALL TO HAVE AN ATMOSPHERE and almost too small to have a gravitational pull. It looped around the planet in an eccentric orbit with one side continually pointed toward space.
Freighter Singapore Maru's cargo of ammunition, bottled oxygen, water, and dry food had been selected and placed in tough, insulated bags so that it could be unloaded in space. While the rest of the task group concentrated on collecting data, Singapore Maru stationed herself half a kilometer from the moon's backside, where small working parties anchored rods into the moon's dusty surface and tethered the ship's cargo to allow Singapore Maru to return to Go-Nihon and resume doing what freighters are designed to do.
The work crews operating the engineering vehicles affectionately named the tiny moon Supply Dump. This, of course, was immediately shortened to Dump by everyone else.
Although expected to last five days, the operation lasted seven after one particularly industrious crew misidentified forty-three bags.
In Orbit, HIMS Zuiho
AS HE WAS PLACING HIS PERSONAL POSSESSIONS IN A STORAGE BIN with the other members of the recon platoon's first section, Superior Private Denys Gordimer noticed Simon Beetje appear in the doorway. “Hey, Dr. Beetje's here!”
“Which one?” Superior Private Blaar Schuur yelled back. Alariesto, the section sergeant, gave him a friendly poke in the ribs to remind him of his manners.
Gordimer went over, and Simon took him by the hand. “Hello, Denys, I came to wish you luck.”
Gordimer’ face broke out into a smile. “Nice of you, Doc.”
“Are you still with Kalle?”
“No, I'm partnered with Blaar Schuur, now. Kalle is with DeKe de Kantzow. We're dropping twelve two-man teams, half moles, half lizards. I'm a mole, he's a lizard.” Observing Beetje's blank look, Gordimer explained, “Moles stay put. lizards move around.”
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