The trigger was the Terrans’ reaction. They dismissed Whitley as their senior representative and replaced him with Maria Teranishi, who promptly refused to penalize any of her crew for the production of the guns. Chaa posted a Guardian in the south module, armed with a nonlethal weapon. This kept the Terrans from producing any more ranged weapons.
Under the circumstances, Shantak II no longer functioned as a joint observation platform. Shocho considered the entire effort a failure, but that was only because she was certain the situation couldn’t possibly get worse. She was wrong.
“I SEEM to have underestimated them,” said Shocho with a sigh.
“No,” said Chaa, “this one is my fault.”
“I don’t think there’s much point in arguing about it.”
Chaa’s confidence in his competence as leader was starting to waver. Shocho wanted to help him find a solution, not dissect his competence. “No one could have guessed they’d be able to assemble their own telescope.”
Ignoring the possibility that the Terrans would discover Hastur on their own had been a miscalculation. If the approaching ship couldn’t be located with Shantak II’s equipment, there should have been no way for the Terrans to learn of its existence. But the communications blackout had caused the Terrans intense anxiety, and so they had assembled a homemade optical telescope to allow them to monitor events in the solar system without the knowledge of the rest of the crew—another indication of the deep mistrust they harbored toward their offworld cousins.
The scope’s construction was another of Teranishi’s initiatives. Numerical data from one of the workshop machines indicated that they had carefully polished a section of sheet metal into a mirror to make a small reflecting telescope, apparently without Dr. Whitley’s knowledge. Teranishi had also kept the observational data a secret from Whitley. Using the scope, they had sighted a large spacecraft approaching Shantak II. No Terran vessel matched its size. Though the scope’s resolution was limited, they were able to calculate that the ship was heading directly toward them. This only served to harden their attitude further.
Confronted with the data, Chaa confirmed that the ship was Hastur. This infuriated the Terrans even more, since AADD had clearly been concealing facts. If Chaa knew the vessel’s name, there must be other information he wasn’t revealing. In fact, the Terrans weren’t the only ones who found Chaa’s explanation suspicious. The other crewmembers—those who hadn’t been let in on the secret—also found it hard to believe he was being candid with them. Chaa found himself losing the trust of his own people.
Odder still was the fact that Hastur was again visible on Shantak II’s backup telescope. The ship was definitely inbound. Though it was still somewhat distant, it was clearly Hastur.
In a bid to regain the crew’s confidence, Chaa attempted to contact the approaching ship while they watched. Hastur’s cylindrical form, visible on the monitor in the AADD mess area, was at a distance from which a reply should have returned within a few minutes.
But Hastur maintained radio silence. The minutes passed with no response, not even in Morse code.
With a spacecraft rapidly approaching Shantak II yet refusing to respond to hailing signals, the Terrans reacted with disbelief. Disbelief became deep anxiety and anxiety gradually turned to anger—anger mixed with fear. It was this fear that finally prompted them to act.
“WE’D BETTER REINFORCE the south module before this pot boils over,” said Shocho. The entire team, including Chaa, responded via web with signals of agreement. Two more Guardians armed with nonlethal weapons immediately took up positions in the south module. Shocho and Chaa remained in the central lounge to monitor the situation. From here they could see anyone emerging from the Terran area of the ship.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have tried to contact Hastur again,” ventured Chaa.
“I can’t say it made things better. But I would’ve done the same thing. How could anyone anticipate that the ship would disappear and then reappear? More to the point, what’s your plan?”
“Hastur will be here soon. All we can do is hold on and wait. I don’t know who she’s carrying, but in any case we’ll know a lot more about what’s going on after they get here. What we do then depends on what we find out.”
“I think you’re right.”
Suddenly the hatch to the Terrans’ barrier popped open. Several crew rushed out, headed for the south module. As they went they yelled, “Out! AADD off our territory!”
Shocho did not hesitate. She told the Guardians in the south module, “Permission to fire.” Scattered popping was quickly audible from the south module. The Guardian’s weapons, powered by compressed air, fired projectiles that opened into nets of viscous acrylic fibers. Anything in the way would instantly be entangled and immobilized.
One of the Guardians fired her weapon, immobilizing the first two Terrans through the door. But it had been a feint. The third Terran was armed. His rail gun fired its metal slug with a flash of purple light and a metallic clang. This weapon was cruder than the ones Shocho had confiscated, probably a prototype.
The shot went wild, tearing into a ceiling beam, which erupted in a flurry of acrylic flakes. The Guardians tried to suppress the fire, but the shooter was behind cover. Their acrylic nets were no match for lethal metal slugs, so the Guardians turned their weapons on the equipment. At least the coating of sticky netting would prevent the Terrans from making immediate use of the machines. But the Terran’s rate of fire increased. The air was pungent with ozone generated by the weapon’s discharge. Seconds later the Guardians made a desperate run for it. The south module was now in Terran hands. Miraculously, no one had been hurt.
“AADD policy or not, the Guardians should have been issued lethal weapons.” Shocho was seething with anger, but not merely because of this latest ploy. All it had taken was a comm blackout to reduce Shantak II to two warring camps. Instinct’s triumph over reason had reduced her to speechless rage. She could not accept the idea that she had no influence at all over what was unfolding.
As soon as the Guardians left the south module, the Terrans welded shut the hinges on the central lounge’s access hatch, making it impossible for anyone to enter their domain. Since they hadn’t tried to seize the rest of the ship, they probably had just the one weapon.
The situation had reverted to what it had been earlier—except now the Terrans were armed. Shocho knew she couldn’t afford to wait them out. They would produce additional guns as soon as they got the equipment back in operation. In a few more days they might be capable of killing everyone on board.
“What do you think they’re up to?” Shocho turned to Chaa.
“It’s been quiet since they sealed the hatch, but I’d bet they’re getting ready to turn out more weapons. It won’t take them long to input the control data for those rail guns. Killing machines are the one thing Terrans know how to make.”
“That’s just speculation. What do you intend to do?”
“Go in before they can finish what they started.”
“That sounds rash to me.” Seeing his look of surprise, she added—with a self-deprecating smile, yet still as an order—“Shut down the power and O2 to the south module. You’ll need to shut down the power in the west module too. Let’s leave them with O2 in their quarters. We’re not barbarians. But bring the heat down, say, one degree every fifteen minutes. They’ll surrender once the cold and the CO2 levels get to them. There’s no point in forcing our way in and taking casualties.”
“All right. I’ll take care of it.”
Shocho was again in charge. Everyone on the team signaled their agreement, as if her status had never changed. Her mastery of the situation spoke for itself.
FORTY HOURS HAD PASSED since power and heat had been cut in the west module. AADD had taken the south module a few hours after the oxygen had been switched off.
“It’s five degrees in the west module,” said Chaa. “Should we keep going? We don’t want to endanger their lives.”
“Do you think they’ll do anything other than surrender?”
“Not if they’re rational. We’ll know soon enough. Conditions in their quarters must be pretty rough right about now.”
Just as Shocho finished speaking, they heard a sharp bang! from behind the wall of the west module. The rail gun. The Guardians in the central lounge gripped their weapons, but there were no further sounds from the Terrans’ side of the wall.
A few minutes later, they heard the sound of an acetylene torch being used behind the hatch. Then it opened and a white flag was pushed through the gap.
“Dr. Whitley?” Shocho called out. For a moment she wasn’t sure, the tall figure beyond the open hatch was so pale and disheveled.
“Colonel Teranishi has met with an unfortunate accident. She is dead. We… we ask that you guarantee our safety.”
“Medic!” Shocho shouted. “Hurry!”
The lights came on in the west module. In the mess area the medics nearly collided with floating body parts. The rail gun’s slug had ripped Maria Teranishi to pieces. The mess was filled with thousands of floating globules of blood.
6
HASTUR STOOD BY to take the Terrans aboard and return them to Earth. AADD had urgently dispatched Hastur after all contact with Shantak II had been lost. Soon after Maria Teranishi’s “accident,” the laser transmitter had suddenly begun functioning normally again. The following day contact was reestablished with the Trojan relay stations.
The message that came from the Trojans indicated business as usual throughout the solar system. AADD and Earth were not at war. The message received by Shocho and Atwood about a communications blackout—“in view of possible armed conflict”—had never been sent.
What Shocho’s guests from Earth thought of this news wasn’t known with much certainty. The astronomers on the Terran crew seemed inclined to believe that the entire episode had been a plot hatched by Colonel Teranishi. The initiative to manufacture guns had certainly come from her.
The UN refused to comment in much detail and the truth was never made public. The official position was clear: Shantak II’s comm system had simply failed and Maria Teranishi’s death had been accidental. But as instigator of the disturbance aboard ship, she was posthumously demoted to major, instead of receiving the customary two-rank promotion to major general. But then, the dead have always had to shoulder responsibility for the living.
Hastur’s three-hundred-meter cylindrical bulk was dwarfed by Shantak II. To avoid interfering with the gravity wave observation work, Hastur waited a few hundred kilometers away and used a small shuttle to transfer the Terran crew.
“To be honest,” Dr. Whitley told Atwood and Shocho as he was about to board the shuttle, “I still don’t feel comfortable in this society of yours. I don’t understand it. But I’m very honored to have worked with you, Dr. Atwood. As an astronomer, I found my time here intellectually stimulating, though our stay ended in an unfortunate manner.”
Whitley extended his right hand. For a brief moment Atwood clearly didn’t remember the meaning of this Earth custom; then, recalling his Terran cultural briefing, he awkwardly extended his hand. Nervous at this first zero-G handshake attempt, he almost sent himself into a backward spin. Whitley smiled and turned to Shocho.
“Commander Kanda, I’m afraid I may have put you to considerable trouble. I just want you to know that was not my intention. Don’t misunderstand—I’m not apologizing. You and I live under different skies. I hope you’ll understand that.”
“I don’t know about different skies, but we certainly stand on different ground.” Shocho extended her hand. Whitley seemed slightly startled, then grasped it firmly. His hand was soft and warm. For some reason Shocho was surprised.
“By the way, I have a hypothesis about our findings, Dr. Whitley,” said Atwood. “Please accept it as my parting gift.”
Whitley couldn’t conceal his surprise at the young scientist’s sudden declaration. “A hypothesis? Would that be about your boggart?”
“Yes, concerning its identity. At my presentation, Colonel Teranishi interpreted the conversion of Eingana’s stars to black holes as evidence of a war between two interstellar civilizations. But I think another interpretation is possible. If one civilization in Eingana conquered another and took over the galaxy, why attempt to send a message using gravity waves? Gravity waves travel no faster than light waves or electromagnetic waves. Communication between different parts of the ‘empire’ could much more easily be accomplished with electromagnetic waves. It’s far simpler technically. Nevertheless, whoever’s sending the signal is using gravity waves.”
“Gravity waves are far more effective for long-distance communication. Are you suggesting that the civilization, assuming there is one, is attempting some kind of intergalactic communication?”
“Surely you remember Project Ozma from your study of history?” said Atwood. “If humans considered it possible to send a message to alien civilizations, why shouldn’t some other species have the same idea?”
“You’re not suggesting that merely attempting to communicate indicates peaceful intent? That would be a logical leap.”
“True. There’s just as much chance that these hypothetical aliens are warlike. The important point is not whether they’re pacifists or cruel conquerors. One would assume they’re essentially different from humans. Perhaps we wouldn’t even be able to communicate with them. But even if we can’t communicate with them, the question remains: can we live in harmony with them? The answer depends on what we do here, in our own system. If members of the same human species cannot peacefully coexist, the chances of our coexisting with an alien civilization are vanishingly small indeed. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“This sounds like a polemic disguised as scientific theory. What’s your point?”
“I’ll send it to your web—along with the supporting data.”
Whitley’s jaw dropped. For a moment Shocho didn’t understand why. Then it hit her.
“Dr. Whitley? Are you using a web?”
“Certainly he is,” said Atwood. “Of course, the specifications undoubtedly differ from ours in many ways. That’s how he monitored and analyzed the signals on our network. It’s also how he was able to disable our laser transmitter remotely.”
Shocho cursed her stupidity. Yes, Terrans loathed the devices. But they had the technology to implant them.
“Then the blackout… Wait, that doesn’t make sense. Hacking the comm system is impossible even with the most advanced web. The system uses strong encryption. The key is changed every three days.”
“I thought of that,” said Atwood. “But then I realized the Terrans had their own communication equipment—and sending encrypted access keys to Discovery wouldn’t attract any attention. Discovery’s own signal analysis capabilities could be reconfigured for code breaking. We were looking for a fault in our system, when all this time Discovery was working hard to break into it. All Whitley had to do was send our access keys to the far side of Sol System and wait for the answer. It would have been a lot of work, but it still probably only took a day or two to decrypt a new key. The Terrans were involved in configuring Shantak II’s signal processing software. They could’ve added a back door for their own use.”
“You inferred all of that…” Whitley seemed staggered—not only that this young man had deduced his actions, but that he seemed to regard them as having little importance.
“Why did you do it?” asked Shocho, but Whitley’s answer indicated a different interpretation of the question.
“I’m not prepared to explain it to you. Let’s just say that in order to be treated like human beings, African Japanese have to handle dirty jobs from time to time.”
“Let me guess then,” said Atwoo
d. “This entire exercise was meant to study how AADD’s society and organization functions under extreme conditions. If we had used force against you, that would’ve been a good excuse to return the favor in some form. The experiment went well up to a point. Beyond that you had a problem—your own people were having more trouble withstanding the stress than we were. Ultimately they went so far as to fabricate weapons, and a life was lost. That’s why the experiment ended. You ended it.”
“Is that true, Dr. Whitley?” Shocho asked.
Instead of answering her, Whitley turned to Atwood. “You’re every bit the genius they say you are, Atwood. But—how?”
“I formed my suspicions quite a while ago. Occam’s razor, as Colonel Teranishi would have said. But I wasn’t certain until the day I made my presentation. You used the term ‘boggart.’ Neither of you know this, but the only person I ever told about my use of that term was Commander Kanda here, and the only time I ever used it with her was in a subconversation between her agent and mine, via web. The fact that you were aware of it could only mean that you were tapping our web system with a web of your own. I have to admit, I wasn’t ready to believe that a Terran web could handle something as sophisticated as breaking into our system.”
“It wasn’t a very sophisticated break-in,” said Whitley philosophically. “All we did was alter the coordinates for the laser transmitter’s servo mechanism slightly. Discovery knew about this, of course, and made the necessary adjustments. It was a simple matter to place a relay satellite near the Trojans to pick up your transmissions. With the laser pointing in the wrong direction, you obviously couldn’t get in touch with anyone. But why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you accuse me?”
“Why accuse you of anything? I have my responsibilities to AADD, you have yours to Earth. That’s all. You lost control of your situation, but in the end you handled matters wisely.”
The Ouroboros Wave Page 21