Fade Out

by Patrick Tilley

  ‘The question may seem premature,’ said Connors, ‘but have any of your people come to any conclusions about Crusoe’s mission? I know none of us has seen him, but there now seems a real risk that we may never see him at all.’

  Wedderkind ticked off the possibilities on his fingers. ‘It can be a one-way static reconnaissance probe like Russia’s Venera, designed to land by parachute on Venus and then transmit back data about its immediate surroundings. It can be a one-trip mobile reconnaissance vehicle like the Lunakhod moon-bug controlled from its point of origin. If that was outside our solar system, it might take years before it received a signal to activate it. It would make more sense to send a preprogrammed vehicle able to monitor its environment and modify its mission accordingly.

  ‘The third possibility is a two-way mobile version of LEM, the Lunar Module used in the Apollo missions, operating by itself, or in conjunction with a command module – or mother ship – orbiting within the solar system, but not necessarily around Earth, and to which it could return. This type of vehicle could be preprogrammed for its mission, or be remote-controlled from the command ship.’

  ‘Or be manned,’ said Connors.

  ‘It could be,’ replied Wedderkind, ‘but we might not be able to verify that.’

  ‘Could you explain why?’ Up to this point, Allbright had been listening quietly to the exchanges between Connors and Wedderkind.

  ‘I’ll try, General. In preparing for an event like this, the fundamental problem has always been how the human mind can grasp the concepts of an alien intelligence, or even recognize its existence.

  ‘There may be biological or physiological limitations that make it impossible. Take the computer – it can perform many of the functions of the human brain, it can calculate, store, recall, and analyse data, but it is incapable of any abstract conceptual processes. Yet can we really grasp the concept of, say – infinity? We now accept the idea of time as the fourth dimension – but how many of us can visualize the fifth, sixth, or even tenth dimension that is theoretically possible? Man lives in a finite world. He needs to know how far, how fast, how large, how heavy…’

  ‘But nevertheless,’ insisted Allbright, ‘something is physically down there.’ He looked at Connors and then to Wedderkind for confirmation.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And if we don’t find some way of getting to it,’ said Connors, ‘it could move away from under Crow Ridge.’

  ‘That’s possible.’

  ‘What ideas have you got, Arnold?’

  ‘There’s something I’ve worked out with Max that I’d like to try.’

  Max went to the blackboard in the corner of the room and picked up a piece of chalk. ‘We’ve managed to locate a number of cartridge-fired diesel rigs…’ He drew a small circle in the middle of the board, then put two large, shaky concentric circles around it.

  ‘Around these two rings at one hundred and two hundred yards from the crater, we’re going to drill a series of boreholes fifty yards apart.’ Max spattered chalky dots around the edge of the inner circle. ‘These holes’ll be drilled down to a depth of five hundred feet…’ He jabbed on some more chalk dots. ‘… These here in the outside ring we’re going to sink down to one thousand feet.’

  Max tapped one of the dots. ‘Down each hole, we’re going to put an insulated detonator wired to an explosive charge. One hundred pounds in the inner ring, five hundred pounds on the outer ring. The charges will detonate if Crusoe burns his way through the shaft.’

  Connors frowned. ‘Do you have to use explosives?’

  Wedderkind fielded the question. ‘It’s a calculated risk. Crusoe’s hull must be built to withstand sustained heat and pressure. The charge will be exploded by the molten rock, not Crusoe. But the shock wave will register on his hull, and should produce a reaction. He didn’t like being hit with the drill.’

  ‘Okay. What do you hope to achieve?’

  Wedderkind tapped his glasses back into place. ‘There’s been a logical sequence to his actions up to now. I want to try to check his capability for logical analysis – and I also want to try to convey our intentions to him.

  ‘If he breaks through the first ring, and then the second, he should register the fivefold increase in the explosive charge. If we were down there, we’d probably conclude there could be a series of rings with progressively stronger charges. I’m hoping he’ll understand that this is a controlled reaction on our part.’

  ‘To let him know we could blow him out of the ground if we wanted to,’ said Connors.

  Wedderkind nodded. ‘And that the safest place is back inside the circle. The whole idea is to let him know we know he’s down there – and that we are not trying to destroy him.’

  ‘How long is it going to take to organize this operation?’ asked Connors.

  Max removed his cigar. ‘If the General will let some of his boys man the rigs, five, maybe six days. Seven at the outside.’

  ‘Do you have any comments, General?’

  ‘The cadets have volunteered to carry out any duty assigned to them. However, I would like to ask Mr Wedderkind if he considers this containment operation might endanger the safety of the personnel on the site.’

  ‘Arnold?’

  ‘General, we are all risking our lives just being here. Insofar as this plan is concerned, I don’t see any need to evacuate the Ridge.’

  ‘Max?’

  ‘No problem…’

  ‘There’s always the possibility of a reaction from Crusoe,’ said Wedderkind. ‘But no one can predict what that might be. So far, everything points towards the fact that Crusoe is avoiding a confrontation. If his intentions were hostile, they would have been manifestly apparent by now.’

  A wintry smile flickered across Allbright’s face. ‘A little while back you advanced the idea that we might find it difficult to understand an alien intelligence. Alien hostility – if such a thing exists, may also take a form we might find difficult to recognize.’

  ‘That’s a good point,’ said Connors.

  Wedderkind spread out his palms. ‘Which proves exactly what I was saying. General Allbright is quite correct. As a human being, I’m programmed to recognize as hostile only those actions which, by their nature, fall within the limits of meaning we have assigned to the overall concept. For example, we might define the ultimate hostile act as the taking of life. To us, life and death are quantifiable states. Life we revere, death we abhor, in varying degrees according to our religion or philosophy. But they are both essentially human states, and, as such, could be beyond the grasp of an alien intelligence.’

  ‘But surely,’ said Connors, ‘the existence and definition of life must be something that we share with every other sentient being throughout the Cosmos.’

  ‘Perhaps the same biological definition,’ said Wedderkind, ‘but we also define life as being the period between birth and death. Our attitude to life is related to the death which must inevitably follow. But what if there were no death – but merely a continuing cycle of existence? What if the makers of Crusoe were immortal?’

  ‘I get the idea,’ said Connors. ‘I just don’t see how it relates to our present situation.’

  ‘It sprang out of General Allbright’s question. I think what I’m trying to say is that an alien intelligence could profoundly change the circumstances and nature of our existence without being able to understand that the effect might be, in human terms, totally disastrous.’

  ‘You mean in the way the loss of radar has fouled up the domestic airline situation,’ said Connors.

  ‘And seriously weakened our capacity to defend ourselves against a surprise nuclear rocket attack,’ added Allbright.

  ‘They are both limited examples of what I’m getting at,’ said Wedderkind. ‘I was really thinking about the serious long-range effects of more fundamental changes in the Earth’s environment.’

  ‘Such as?’ asked Connors.

  Wedderkind ticked off the possibilities starting with his thumb. �
��De-ionization of the atmosphere – that would let through harmful, probably fatal radiation from the sun. Diminution of the Earth’s gravitational force, so that the atmosphere leaks off into space. This is what may have happened on Mars. Displacement of the Earth’s axis of rotation so that the polar regions shift to the equator. We know it has happened before – millions of years ago, the North Pole was around Hawaii, and the equator ran up through North America at an angle of forty-five degrees a few miles north of Chicago.

  ‘Disturbance of the Earth’s crust causing the level of the seabed to rise. Think what would happen to the map if the water level rose two hundred feet – permanently.’

  Connors stopped him before he got to his little finger. ‘That’s great. The President is going to love all that. I’m supposed to be taking back good news.’

  ‘They are only ideas, Bob. Coffee talk. Pure speculation – that need go no further than this room. All we’ve got at the moment is a hole in the ground. The important thing is to get those boreholes sunk around Crusoe before he moves too far.’

  ‘All the same, you could have mentioned some of these ideas before he came down.’

  Wedderkind hunched his shoulders and spread out his palms. ‘There was no point, but if I had, was there any way of stopping him?’

  There wasn’t much left of the night, but tired though he was, Connors hardly slept at all.

  The first of the converted bulldozers came grinding up the dirt road as Allbright walked with Connors and Wedderkind down to the line of red stakes. It was 7 A.M. The sky was absolutely clear.

  A yellow Corporation jeep was waiting on the other side of the stakes to take them down to the highway.

  ‘I imagine you must be glad to get out of here and back to the White House,’ said Allbright.

  ‘Not entirely. I’ve rather enjoyed being up at the sharp end.’ Connors smiled. ‘Although I must confess I’ll be relieved to get back to a water-based sanitary system.’

  Allbright smiled too. ‘There are plans to have that facility available for VIPs by the time you return.’

  ‘I appreciate the gesture,’ said Connors, ‘but I think we ought to hold off on all the frills until Crusoe is boxed in. It’s absolutely vital we maintain contact. If Crusoe moves out from under Crow Ridge, we’ll be left sitting on top of nothing but the world’s most expensive toilet.’

  ‘I’ve got a clear picture of the priorities, Mr Connors. Have a safe trip.’

  As they passed through the control point, Connors saw that the civilian contractors were already at work setting up the posts for the high chain link fence around Bodell’s land. He also noticed that cadets guarding the gate had got rid of their shotguns.

  Down at the base camp on Highway 22, Connors went through the medical checks under Wedderkind’s watchful eye. They included the usual blood and urine samples, cardiogram, and encephalogram. Wedderkind wanted to carry out some research to see if there was any relation between individual brain-wave patterns and people’s physical reactions to Crusoe’s protective field.

  ‘Are you sure you won’t come back to Washington with me?’ It was the second time Connors had put the question to Wedderkind.

  ‘Not unless you make it an order.’

  ‘Arnold, nothing is going to happen here until the end of the week.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Wedderkind smiled. ‘But I’d never forgive myself if something did and I wasn’t here to see it. In any case, there’s still a lot to organize.’

  ‘You’ve got competent people here who can handle that.’

  ‘Bob, the future of the whole world is up there under the ridge, not back in Washington.’

  ‘I’ll try to remember that. However, for the moment, Washington is where the decisions are made that make or break this project.’

  ‘I know. That’s why it’s important that you go back there and tell them that everything’s under control.’

  It was Connors’ turn to smile. ‘Whose control – ours or Crusoe’s?’

  ‘Say ours – whatever you may believe privately.’

  ‘Is there anything special you’d like me to ask for?’

  ‘Time,’ said Wedderkind. ‘Just as much time as you can get. Everyone back there has been weaned on Hollywood features where some goon solves the secret of the universe in a hundred and ten minutes with the aid of a screwdriver and the love of a good woman. In real life, it always takes a little longer. The answers – if we ever find them – may be incredibly simple, but it may take a long time to realize just how simple they are.’

  ‘I’ll be back at the weekend.’ Connors laid a hand on Wedderkind’s shoulder. ‘Take care.’

  ‘Give my love to Charly.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And promise me one thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘One day, be a mensch and marry the girl.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ said Connors.

  THE WHITE HOUSE/WASHINGTON DC

  Marion buzzed to tell Connors that the President was ready to talk to him in his private office next to the Oval Room.

  ‘Bob. It’s good to see you.’

  The President’s handshake and voice were warm and friendly, but his face had changed noticeably. Although it had been only a couple of days since Connors had seen the President, he seemed to have aged a couple of years.

  Connors’ eyes must have given him away, because the President said, ‘Don’t ask me how I feel. Anne’s been asking me that for the last two weeks. I feel fine, and McVickers agrees with me.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ McVickers was the President’s personal physician.

  ‘A little tired, maybe, but then you look as if you could do with a good night’s sleep yourself.’

  ‘I’ll get around to it eventually,’ said Connors. ‘What’s it been like so far this week?’

  ‘The pressures are beginning to build.’ The President sat down and gestured to Connors to do the same. ‘How is Allbright shaping up?’

  ‘He seems to have everything under control,’ said Connors.

  The President nodded. ‘You apparently gave Chuck Clayson the impression that you weren’t entirely happy to have Allbright along on this thing.’

  ‘In that case, I need to get my face fixed,’ said Connors. ‘Did he say anything else?’

  ‘No. I suggested your reaction may have been coloured by the fact that you’d never met Allbright before. I didn’t mention our conversation at Camp David.’

  ‘Good.’

  The President fingered the cover of the blue file that lay on the desk in front of him. ‘I’ve read your latest situation report. Did one of your girls –?’

  ‘No, Greg Mitchell typed it. Was everything clear?’

  ‘Yes – perfectly.’ The President put on his reading glasses and flipped over several pages.

  ‘The situation isn’t quite as straightforward as we expected,’ said Connors. ‘But it’s nothing we can’t deal with – given time.’

  ‘Yes…’ The President took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘That may be the one item we’re running out of.’

  Wedderkind was right. They were starting to lean on the project less than two weeks after touchdown.

  ‘We didn’t get our first people on to the Ridge until four days ago,’ said Connors.

  ‘I appreciate that.’ The President put his glasses back on and turned over another page of the file. ‘Is there no way you can speed up this drilling operation?’

  ‘They’re planning to work twenty-four hours a day on that,’ said Connors. ‘But even if we complete ahead of schedule, there is no guarantee that we’ll succeed in forcing Crusoe to the surface.’

  ‘No…’ The President closed the file, laid his glasses on top of it, and sat back in his chair. ‘If this goes on, we’re going to find ourselves in one hell of a bind.’

  ‘Are you getting pressure from the Pentagon?’

  ‘Some of the things they’re saying make sense.’

&n
bsp; ‘Such as?’

  ‘Safeguarding our interests in Saudi Arabia – and the Persian Gulf.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve sent in the Marines.’

  ‘Not yet, but I have authorized the airlift of a Marine division to Diego Garcia and the transfer of more naval units to the Indian Ocean.’

  It was provocative but it made sense. Connors had seen copies of the cables sent by Admiral Kirk, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The Russians had a big chunk of their blue-water navy in the area. Worried by the impact of the first twenty-minute fade-out on communications, Fraser had ordered Kirk to stay aboard the carrier Lexington and set up a forward command post. Kirk had the authority to make vital tactical command decisions without referring them to Washington.

  It was another wise move. Since early morning, it had been impossible to receive or transmit any coherent messages on the long wavelengths. There was now a total, worldwide radio blackout.

  ‘We’ve talked a lot about setting up the Crusoe Project,’ said Connors. ‘But what we haven’t really touched is your reaction to Crusoe itself. I got the impression on Sunday that we weren’t quite connecting. Do you want to tell me where you stand on this?’

  The President looked at Connors, then moved the bottom right-hand corner of his wife’s picture by a fraction of an inch.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me the truth.’

  ‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’ The President moved the picture back to its original position.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Connors. ‘That’s what makes this job so exciting.’

  The President got up from his chair and gazed out of the window for a moment, hands clasped behind his back. He turned around and waved Connors back into his seat. ‘Okay, you’ve asked me where I stand on this. It’s a fair question. Whatever the potential gains in terms of scientific and general knowledge, whatever long-term benefit to humanity this contact may represent, those gains are, and must remain, totally subordinate to the maintenance of our democratic system of government, our concept of a free society and a free-enterprise economy, and the continued well-being of the people of the United States as set forth in, and guaranteed by, the Constitution.’