Analog SFF, July-August 2009

by Dell Magazine Authors

  "No.” Indira shook her head. “It might just be possible to detect another ramjet shortly after launch. We are absolutely positive there is not another one already on the way, at least not one that has reached relativistic speeds."

  "Would we be able to tell if they have ever attacked another star in this manner in the past?"

  Indira smiled. “Now that is one really excellent question. We're still reviewing the data, but we see no evidence they have ever done this before. We're pretty confident we would not have missed the evidence of a yellow dwarf exploding. That would be such a jarring departure from main-sequence behavior, we'd have caught it. We're still puzzling over the exact model of a ramjet-induced core collapse, but the competing models only differ in how long the explosion takes to reach the surface. We ought to be able to see the anomalous metallicity of the ash."

  "Ah, you mean it wouldn't crank out heavy elements like a standard supernova?” Tuekakas bent over to look through the telescope again.

  "Exactly.” Indira gazed at the sky and huddled against the cold. “No artificially triggered explosion of a yellow star will look anything like a supernova, or like the explosions you can produce with a white dwarf. Plus, we need to consider the distances at which this civilization might have made an attack. We would not be looking for remnants a hundred thousand light-years away. A hundred light-years, maybe. And, depending on the age of this civilization and their rate of progress, they would be relatively recent, probably some thousands or tens of thousands of years at the outside, and likely less than that. Nothing in the catalogs suggests anything of the kind."

  Tuekakas stood up and stretched his back. “I am still trying to grasp the scale. That star is twenty light-years away?"

  "Really 19.52, according to our most recent parallax measurements."

  "Close enough.” Tuekakas shook his head. “Vast as this distance is, this star is in our own back yard. It bears another civilization, evidently more advanced than ours, but not so much that we can't comprehend at least the basics of their technology. Dr. Bussard conceived of the weapon they fired at us long before they launched this one. Another coincidence! The mind simply reels at the number of them. In all of time and all of space, we have close neighbors not far from us in development, and they want us dead."

  Indira gazed at the lopsided “W” of stars that made up the constellation. “I'm in contact with a team working out the orbits of our respective stars in the galaxy. Achird is older than Sol, but there are some equalizers. Both are presently blessed with favorable stellar environments. This part of the Milky Way is a good place for life. We already know our system has periodically passed through rougher neighborhoods in its trips around the galaxy, accounting for some prior mass extinctions. It appears likely both systems were in dangerous parts of the galaxy at about the same time not too long ago. Perhaps both experienced mass extinctions then and were put on a similar evolutionary track. It is even possible both home planets experienced their more recent ice ages at the same time due to the intensity of cosmic radiation. They may have developed slower than us, but with an earlier start. They probably have significantly less metal available than we do, which would have slowed their progress. If they are so xenophobic, they might also be luddites, opposed to rapid technological change. There is one thing we are certain of. The timing of this attack is no coincidence. We signaled our presence."

  "Ah! How?” Tuekakas grinned for an instant at his faux pas, wondering if Indira would catch it. “We never used the big Active SETI transmitter. Did some of the earlier lower-powered Active SETI attempts succeed?"

  Indira shook her head. “It is unlikely any of those would have been heard at Eta Cass. We've been mapping the Oort cloud with very powerful radar. The pings have been up in the terawatt range, in order to generate reflections off comets up to half a light-year away. The pings were focused into tight beams. We started doing it about seven or eight decades ago, and some of those studies were pointed right in their direction, weighing in at about a seven on the San Marino Scale."

  "San Marino Scale?” Tuekakas followed her gaze to the constellation.

  "That's the analytical tool used by the International Academy of Astronautics, to quantify the significance of transmissions from Earth. Developed by Almar and Shuch, way back in twenty-ought-something. Dr. Shuch was the original Dr. SETI, one of my hats these days."

  "How easily detectible is a seven on this scale?"

  "The landmark Arecibo message sent in 1974 was just slightly stronger,” she replied. “If they had SETI gear set up and aimed at all the habitable nearby stars as we do, they'd have detected the signals easily."

  "Huh!” Tuekakas turned to Indira and grinned. “We told them we were on the threshold of interstellar travel. We were knocking on the door to the stars, and we got an answer."

  Indira raised an eyebrow. “Quite an answer. And certainly not the one we expected."

  "Wyakin," Tuekakas asked after a thoughtful pause, “tell me honestly, am I a wuss?"

  Indira looked at him, momentarily startled. “I ... what a terrible question to ask!"

  Tuekakas focused his gaze on her starlit face, trying to read her expression in the faint light. “Up until now, I have prided myself on being the person who could find the middle ground. I was the compromiser all sides could trust. Now I find myself in a situation where I am far from the middle ground, and I will be forced to accept a situation I believe is a horrible mistake. Yet, if I fight it, I will lose this position and any hope of having a positive influence. I think that makes me a lily-livered wimp, at the very time we need a leader."

  Indira paused to consider the question. “I think you could come up with a more dignified word for it. ‘Realist’ is the one that pops to my mind. There is a certain futility in standing in the way of bulldozers."

  The Secretary General flashed a big smile and laughed out loud.

  "I said something funny?” Indira asked.

  "I can always count on you, wyakin, to guide me to the answer I need! They're not Ack-earedians! They're Vogons! Ambassador Gates mentioned them to me a few days ago. Are you familiar with the story?"

  "Vogons? And it has something to do with bulldozers? Why am I thinking about a decent cup of tea?” She grimaced. “Aaargh! Hitchhiker's Guide! You should be ashamed. Poor Mr. Gendeg got in front of their bulldozer and see what it got him?"

  "God bless Victor Gendeg, who saved us all from the Vogon bulldozer. But you just made me remember a little prank I was involved in as a youth. We managed to delay a construction project long enough to complete an environmental impact assessment. We stopped a dam from being built, not far from here.” Tuekakas pointed to himself. “My role involved learning to operate a bulldozer! You might say it was a crash course. The construction firm characterized it as eco-terrorism, but we figured it was just turning our opponent's strength against them. I probably should remember there are better ways to deal with bulldozers than standing in their way."

  * * * *

  Dr. Andrew Howard placed the spindly model gently on the polished surface of the table. Tuekakas admired the intricate details.

  "So this is a Bussard ramjet? It looks rather frail to be a star-killer."

  Dr. Howard stood up and smiled. The man seemed simultaneously nervous and eager, but at the moment, also very proud. “Oh, this is actually one I designed a few years back. Not a star-killer. You are correct; the Achirdian star-killer was more robust. The comet miners managed some images of it, and we are working on a model, but the main components are remarkably similar. Mine is just an ordinary starship."

  Tuekakas bent over to examine the details of the aft end. “I like the way you say that so casually, ‘an ordinary starship.’”

  Dr. Howard chuckled. “I suppose no ship that can ‘chase light’ can ever be considered ordinary. Even my design could be a dangerous weapon. The Achirdian weapon had something similar to the spaced stack of three shallow cones at the front of my model. These are micrometeori
te shields. Now, imagine three massive metal slugs along this mast, in place of the personnel and cargo modules in my design, back here. These would be the main penetrator masses ... the battering ram. These rings are simple, but very powerful, magnetic solenoids. The radial protuberances are electrostatic antennae. Behind the solenoids is the electrodynamic compressor, which initiates the reaction. The thornlike piece at the very back is the stinger, which serves a similar function to the nozzle of a rocket engine, or for a closer analogy, the tail cone of an aerospike engine."

  Tuekakas nodded. “So you already knew how to build one?"

  "We had a rough idea,” Dr. Howard said. “We understood how to build the collector. We were fairly certain we had worked out the hoary old drag objections. We had several ideas for how to make the reaction go: CNO bi-cycle catalysis, muons, perhaps even reacting scooped hydrogen against stored anti-matter. But nothing was proven. We did not know for sure if it could be made to work. Hydrogen is difficult to use as a fusion fuel. We have always had some vague idea it was possible, but no great incentive to learn how and no funding for it. But the aliens proved to us it definitely can be made to work."

  "So you understand it now?"

  Dr. Howard spread his hands to signify doubt. “Let's say we have several good ideas, and we are now absolutely certain there is a way. The Achirdian ship used a monstrously intense magnetic field. We are not certain of its purpose and even less certain of how they produce it. It dwarfs any superconductor magnets we have made by orders of magnitude. But the deuterium explosion caused their magnets to rupture, producing a large secondary explosion. We captured excellent spectra of that event. We know what the magnets were made of."

  Tuekakas walked around to the other side of the table, studying the model. “What do you need for us to build our own?"

  Dr. Howard beamed. “Money. Commitment of resources. Priority. We need a Manhattan Project."

  Tuekakas nodded. “I was thinking just that."

  Dr. Howard opened his briefcase and eagerly fished out a bound document. “We need to start with a very strong effort in basic research. We must learn how they made the magnets and why. We need to determine if they made something exotic like magnetic monopoles, or if they had learned to invert matter to anti-matter. Were they doing catalysis, and if so, how did they recover the catalyst? Or perhaps it fuels itself from dark matter, neutralinos—after all, there's far more of that than there is hydrogen, and it is capable of an annihilation reaction. Perhaps dark matter will interact with a field that strong.” He thrust the document into the hands of the Secretary General. “This is our estimate of the human and material resources."

  Tuekakas opened the proposal and turned to the executive summary to read. “Mmmm, just what I was looking for.” He leafed through some pages and came to one that showed an outline of the proposed weapon. “Yes, very nice. Tell me, Dr. Howard, how long do you think it would take to develop this weapon?"

  The physicist's face changed from eagerness to worry. “That would be very hard to guess without knowing the resources. The Manhattan Project had vast resources."

  "The Manhattan Project had but a fraction of the resources of a single nation,” Tuekakas pointed out, “spared from an even more massive war effort. And they developed the first nuclear weapons in just a few years. But the Americans were not quite as upset with the Axis powers as we are with these ... Achirdians."

  Dr. Howard nodded apologetically. “They had many efforts going in parallel. Two different enrichment methods, including a massive hydroelectric program to power them. A breeder program. People learning to build the components. We should have parallel programs. And perhaps we could start planning the ship-building facility quite soon, before we even have the ramjet perfected."

  "Still,” Tuekakas said, “I imagine this is likely to take longer than building the atomic bomb. After all, this is a starship, not a bomb. A decade? More?"

  "At least a decade. Perhaps two. I wish I could say it would be sooner. We must retaliate before they can strike us again."

  "If they launch immediately upon learning the last weapon missed, we will still have time to launch our response,” Tuekakas stated. “I did not notice if your proposal includes research for defense. We must not rely on luck again."

  "Oh, certainly,” the physicist agreed. “There is a proposal in there for a fleet of mass drivers, large enough to move dwarf planets into the path of any future attack, as well as robotic ships to lay down deuterium clouds much farther out than we did this time. And we will work out strategies for overcoming their defenses, with multiple simultaneous strikes and decoys."

  Dr. Howard paused for a second to gather courage. “Um, if you don't mind my asking, sir, my understanding was that you were against this project. Have you changed your mind? I mean, we all felt so helpless before that thing missed. We have to do something. I have to be part of it."

  "I understand your feelings completely."

  "You really do? They nearly wiped out the entire human race. So much hatred! We can't let it pass! We must have retribution! So you are on board now? Good!"

  Tuekakas smiled slyly. “Let's just say I was seeking the best possible outcome. You have let me know what is possible, and I now believe this technology is just what we need."

  * * * *

  "How many rowdy cowboys did they bring to this pow-wow?” Tuekakas asked his assistant. He was obviously in a good mood, and eager for the meeting.

  "Six, sir, assuming you mean Belters."

  Tuekakas smiled with satisfaction—the young man was clearly thrown by his irreverent jest. “Umm, needum more Indians. Round up two more warm bodies. I intend to negotiate from strength."

  The assistant looked at his watch. “Sir, we're already keeping them waiting."

  "And wait they shall. I intend to march in there with an entourage of eight. We will occupy every available seat at the table.” Tuekakas winked at Indira. “Old trick I learned from my ancestors, wyakin. Even if you intend to give in, make a show of strength."

  * * * *

  Ambassador Gates looked at her watch again. “Damn that man! Fifteen minutes now. Who does he think he is, making us wait?"

  The man to her left, slouched back in his leather swivel chair, turned his head to her. “Ah, that would be ... the SecGen? Relax. He's just sending a little message. I have a feeling you'll get your way."

  The doors opened, and two columns of people marched in. They split to occupy the remaining seats on either side of the table. Tuekakas brought up the rear and stood by the large seat at the head of the table.

  Ambassador Gates rose and the rest of her delegation did likewise. “Joseph, I believe you know everyone at my end of the table."

  Tuekakas nodded. “And I'm sure, Maria, your spies have introduced you to my staff and advisors. Shall we get right down to brass tacks? Please, everyone, be seated. This should not take long. It does not require many words to speak the truth."

  Ambassador Gates motioned to the representative from the O'Neil as she sat down. He passed a stack of thick proposals to the members of the Secretary General's entourage. Tuekakas glanced down at his copy, but did not open it.

  "Joseph, you're beat and you know it,” Maria Gates stated flatly. “So quit pretending."

  Tuekakas chuckled. “Beat? Let me guess what is in this pile of wasted trees before me: a pledge to spend an extravagant amount of your money on an unparalleled crash program of research and development? You've all agreed to pay ‘til it hurts. You want your weapon. You want payback. You look like a bunch of Lakota ready for a war dance. I'm surprised you are not wearing war paint."

  "Joseph..."

  "And I have decided not to oppose you. In fact, I support you fully."

  Maria looked ever so slightly startled, but quickly regained her stride. “So you finally realized it would be political suicide?"

  Tuekakas shrugged. “There's that. But I would have fought with you if I did not think this will be the best path to ta
ke."

  The ambassadors looked at each other in confusion.

  The Secretary General continued. “You think I've decided to back a war? Don't be naive. I've decided to back the development of interstellar ramjet technology. Dr. Bussard never intended it to be a weapon, you know. He thought we would use it for peaceful interstellar transportation. The time is ripe. We will start it now, while people are boiling mad, lusting for revenge, and willing to pay anything it takes. We did not do it before because we did not quite know how, and finding the answer seemed very expensive, with no guarantee it would work. We were not pressed for time. But thanks to their attack, we now know there is a way to make it work, and we know there is a need."

  "You intend to divert this?” Maria challenged. “We won't let you!"

  "Not immediately,” Tuekakas said with a confident smile. “This technology will not take less than a decade to develop, and will probably take a good deal more. War fever rarely lasts more than a few years. People will have time to cool down and think. Others will realize the futility of engaging in a totally pointless war with the Achirdians, slinging ramjets, at enormous expense, at each other's stars until someone runs out of luck, passing the curse on to our children and their children. They will tire of wasting epic resources on destructive folly, with only a small hope of satisfaction a long time in the future. They will realize our vulnerability ends when we are no longer bottled up in one system. They will realize we are standing at the doorway to the stars, and our neighbors, quite unintentionally, of course, have tossed us the keys. When they do, they will find the Secretary General is their staunch ally. Once public opinion turns, I think about five years from now, you'll be bulldozed. In fact, my expectation is, you'll agree and join me. But you are welcome to maintain the charade for now, if you wish.

  "I see that look. You think something is wrong with me, because I don't want revenge. You misread me. I do want revenge. I just want it to be to our benefit and not our damnation. I don't want their evil to transform us into something just as bad. This is revenge of the best sort possible,” he said with obvious satisfaction. “They intended to destroy us so we could not reach the stars, but instead, they have given us the very means to do so!"