by M R Cates
“But I would say such an impact would shatter the asteroid.”
“I would say so too.” Sandra placed the rest of the stack in front of him. “I stretched every technique I had and took a bunch of data. Everything's consistent. Furthermore, I found that the orbit is shifted from the published numbers by several percent.”
“So, the hole cutting, if it happened, was probably recent, since the asteroid's orbit was published?”
Sandra nodded. “I have a call into Chile and Zurich. I hope they have some data on the object.”
“Does it have a name?”
“Just a number, as far as I know. 1744. Catchy, huh?”
Wyler nodded. “You say it's near perigee. When will it start to move away?”
Sandra's response was rapid. “Seven days,” she said. “I'd like permission to watch it a little every night or two until it turns around, to try to improve the image quality some, and maybe to see it rotate. It could come closer to a circle.”
“Let's look at the schedule,” Wyler said. He turned and brought up a display on his computer, showing a chart of the Keck telescope use plan for several weeks. Sandra stood and came around to look at it with him. They both understood the chart so well that only a couple glances were needed. “Don't see any problem,” he said. “I'll leave the scheduling to you, Sandra. Just work it out with Bob and Vastov, okay?”
“Thanks,” she said and came back around to her seat, gathering the stack of images together. “These are your copies if you want them, Reg.”
“I do,” he nodded. “But we shouldn't ... well let's look a little longer before drawing any conclusions.”
“I agree.” Sandra began to move toward the door. “Pretty interesting, huh?”
“I'd say. Let me know what you find next time.”
“Will do.” She was at the door and almost through it.
“Sandra,” he called. She stopped and looked back. “Are you and I the only ones who've seen these?” He indicated the image stack.
“Showed an early set to Carl,” she said. “That's all.”
“What did he say?”
“Just what you did.” Sandra's face brightened, but she didn't smile.
“Three is plenty to know about this for the moment,” Wyler suggested. He did smile.
“My thoughts, too.” Sandra waved over her shoulder as she left.
—
She went directly home. As she approached her front door she saw her neighbor to the west, a very round man of Hawaiian stock, named Paul Honokona. Paul's wife, Lisa, was similarly large and similarly Hawaiian in heritage. They were good neighbors, always pleasant, and willing to put up with Sandra's less-than-gregarious nature.
“Aloha!” Paul said pleasantly. He was always amazed at his neighbor's rapid pace of life. The large man wore a bright, multi-colored shirt and green pants that came just past his knees. True to their island heritage, Paul and Lisa were never in a hurry. Lisa operated a Laundromat in Waimea and Paul was a part-time construction worker and gardener. Often when Sandra was away from home for a week or more to attend meetings she'd pay Paul to mow and care for her small yard.
“Aloha,” Sandra returned. “Okay today, Paul?” She was walking as she spoke.
“Sure, okay.” Paul was doing something with shears to bushes that grew along the front of the Honokona house. Their house was smaller and scruffier than Sandra's but did not appear neglected.
“Lisa in town?” Sandra asked.
“Yep.” Paul's body was brown from living in Hawaii all his life. He and Lisa in fact had never lived more than a few miles from Waimea. “Hey, jus' wanted to let you know somebody came by your house yesterday afternoon. While you were gone.”
Sandra was surprised. No one ever just dropped in on her except Carl, and Paul knew Carl. “Really?” she said with a shrug.
“Yeah, a guy. Tall. Looked rich, you know. I said you was workin'. He asked where. Tol' him I didn't know.”
“Why'd you do that?” Sandra had turned around to face him.
“Never'd seen the guy before. Didn't like 'im much.”
“Hmm.” Sandra's eye twinkled. “That's all you know about him?”
“In a Mercedes. Pretty snooty lookin' wheels.”
“Odd,” Sandra said, shrugging again. In a Mercedes. “You say he knew my name?”
“Called you Doctor Hughes.”
“Ah. Could be a visitor to the laboratory. But I don't know who's visiting this week.”
“Why would he come here?” Paul asked, logically.
“Did he have a briefcase with him?”
Paul scratched his chin a minute. “I think so,” he nodded.
“Thanks.” She waved and bounded up the steps and into her house.
This news was something she didn't need. Entering the house she turned right into her office. On the desk, with a window above it looking out into the front yard – she could see Paul over to the side, still at his hedges – was a computer and associated hardware. Her brain was fuming a little. Not a good time for this, she mused, irked. She started the boot up, then bounded around the corner to the kitchen and made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Munching on it she returned. Muttering aloud, “Dammit,” Sandra began typing at the keyboard.
Never before had Sandra Hughes needed a lawyer. She wasn’t about to ask colleagues for suggestions so she went to the Net. After a few minutes the decision had boiled down to two: both women, one living in Kona and one in Hilo. Sandra picked up the phone on her desk and called the Hilo number.
“Claxton, Murphy, and DeLong,” came a female voice. “May I help you?”
“My name is Sandra Hughes. I'd like to speak with Susan Delong.”
“Are you a client of Ms Delong?” came the follow-up question.
“No. I'm a prospective client.”
“Alright. Would you hold a moment?”
The moment turned out to be three minutes and Sandra came close to hanging up. But eventually a coarse voice came on the phone. “This is Susan Delong. Ms Hughes, is that correct?”
“Yes, Sandra Hughes. I wonder if you are taking any new clients, Ms Delong?”
“Do you mind briefly describing your need, Ms Hughes? I'll understand if you don't wish to.”
“No, it's fine. I'm ... well, I think I'm about to be sued.”
“Really? For what, may I ask?”
Suddenly Sandra made a sound that might be described as a cross between a laugh and a smirk. She hadn't planned to, but the situation was so ludicrous that she couldn't stop herself. “I'm sorry,” she said. “It's just that it is such an odd thing – but very serious, too.”
Susan DeLong said, “I must say you have peaked my curiosity.”
“I'm about to be sued,” said the astronomer, “over a star.”
“A star,” came the soft repetition. “It does sound like an odd thing. You must be associated with the observatories up on the mountain.”
“Yes, I'm an astronomer, actually. And this ... well, this problem goes back almost a year.”
The lawyer said, “I can't say I've ever been involved in a dispute over a star. I'd certainly be willing to consider your case, Ms Hughes. When would you like to get together?”
“How about as soon as I can drive from Waimea to Hilo?”
“Has something suddenly stirred this situation up?” Susan asked.
“Yes. The ... what do you call it, the plaintiff has been trying to contact me, probably, through his own lawyer or some such person. I've gotten a couple of notes left at my house. I haven't actually been avoiding speaking with him, but ... just haven't been home. And yesterday he came to my house again. Again I was gone – neighbor saw him – but this time no note. I know the ... stupid thing isn't going away.”
“A good guess. Can you be here by lunch? We can meet at Justinian's on the north side. It will save you fifteen minutes each way.”
“Thanks. Sure. I'll be there ...” She looked at her watch. “... say, twelve thir
ty. Okay?”
“Alright. I'll be in a gray dress. I have dark hair, cut short. I'm maybe five-three.”
Sandra made a face at the phone. “I'll find you. My hair is dirty blond, in a ponytail.”
“Very good. Then we'll meet at twelve-thirty. Thank you for choosing our firm.”
Sandra didn't want to mention her method for choosing the firm, and said, “See you soon, Ms DeLong.”
Chapter 4
Driving toward Hilo, Sandra was exasperated, both with herself and with the nature of people in general. The dispute over the star was so utterly absurd that she had refused to take it seriously – until it had risen up and bitten her. It's not something I should have to worry about, yet look at me. She felt a lot like a person feels when a victim of a minor traffic accident. A big burden is suddenly placed on your shoulders for no good reason. You have to have the car's damage assessed, have to talk to your insurance company, sometimes the other person's insurance company, arrange to leave your car for repairs, wait until it's repaired, etc. etc. She wished the whole thing had not happened.
It had begun almost exactly a year ago. In the middle of Sandra's study of galactic densities and careful matching of density patterns with various parametric studies of different cosmological models, she had found, during one evening's observations a star with peculiar characteristics. The star was actually in the foreground of one of her regional images, and one of those things she took out as background to get at the information far beyond it. In this case the star's image had not completely disappeared when she did her usual background subtraction. That meant that she had either made a mistake of some kind, or the star was gaining brightness. The latter, of course, turned out to be the case. Sandra gave the star a name – almost casually – and wrote a short letter to Astronomical Review about it. The name she chose of was Moby Dick, an allusion to Melville's whale, and in the letter – tongue in cheek – she'd said to keep a look out for the star because soon they'd be saying, “Thar she blows!” Astronomical Review chose to print it just as she'd written it. And sure enough, fifteen days later the star novaed, gaining a factor of a thousand in brightness within a few hours. For one night, in fact, it was visible to the unaided eye if you knew just where to look.
Well, Moby Dick caused a stir in the astronomical community, at least for a while – even to point of a news release and publication in papers and magazines around the world, nearly all giving her credit for the discovery – and soon everyone was calling the nova Moby Dick. As it turned out, an astronomer from Israel, a certain Doctor Haim Sieber, working at a observatory in Spain, had also seen the star, noted it was about to nova, and reported it to an obscure European Journal, Journal d'Astronomie Moderne. Dr. Sieber claimed his sighting had been earlier than Sandra's, giving the time as three evenings before Astronomical Review had dated her letter. The truth was that Sandra had first seen and identified the brightening star earlier than the good Dr. Sieber, and wrote him an email to that effect, figuring the issue would be settled. Journal d'Astronomie Moderne, seeing the chance for a scoop, made sure the manuscript date for Sieber's communiqué was a day earlier than Sandra's. His return email suggested that she had found out about his discovery, aimed the Kecks at “his” star and tried to take the credit for the first sighting of the nova. Sandra had been incensed at the suggestion and wrote him back saying she had the Keck records to prove her point and adding he was “acting like an asshole.” That bit of excess on her part she had regretted immediately, and felt even worse about it when he replied and told her he was going to sue her for slander. His reputation, after all, he said, was now “placed in jeopardy by her arrogant and underhanded behavior.” Sandra had emailed back an apology, saying she “had been thoughtless in her choice of words,” but the damage had been done.
And now, she supposed, Sieber had hired a lawyer or at least a representative of some kind on the Big Island to present some kind of papers to her. She had been left two notes in her mailbox from someone who was trying to see her personally at home. The notes were cryptic and not especially pleasant in tone. Who else but Sieber would feel the need to do such a thing?
Sandra reached Justinian's fifteen minutes early and climbed the twenty or so steps up the slope from the parking lot to the entrance level of the restaurant. A dark-haired college-age waitress in shorts met her and conducted her to a table Sandra saw and requested on the covered porch that hung out over the green mountainside. Justinian's was a cut above most Hilo establishments. It was rather upscale, while in general restaurants around the island capital catered to the blue-collar folks that were common on that side of the Big Island. The astronomer entered the place in no mood for a midday dining experience, but was soon taken by the decor and ambiance. Having driven by it many times going into Hilo, she was now pleasantly surprised to find Justinian's so charming. Sandra was not a person to feel awkward sitting alone in a public place, and also had the ability to let her mind go where it wished, losing herself in the moment. After ordering and receiving a beer made there on Hawaii she listened to the low background of conversation and several tropical birds in the trees and bushes nearby, then gradually concentrated on more interesting things. In particular, she pondered the doughnut-shaped asteroid.
There remained no doubt in her mind that the asteroid had a hole through it. It was not in two or more pieces – that is, unless they happened to be in nearly constant contact. Such a condition could last no more than days, or at the outside, weeks. Especially since the orbit took the body through a great variety of gravitational fields, from Jupiter, Mars, and even Earth. Tiny gravitational differentials would be significant to such an object. Looking at a particularly noisy myna bird a few yards away, Sandra pondered. The Kecks were the only telescopes at the moment that could have seen the shape of the object. If anyone could resolve that thing any better it would be she. Those feelings were not arrogance on Sandra's part: they were simple facts. One of her most distinctive traits was her brutal honesty, both with herself and with others. That honesty had gotten her in hot water with that Israeli guy, she remembered with a sigh. Me and my big mouth, she thought. Leave it to Sandra to use “asshole” in an email to a colleague. Damn me, I'm the asshole!
Okay, let's say, her thought continued, the asteroid has a hole through it. And say I'm right that something punched it out, turning it into a space doughnut. What did it? She made a face at the myna. What took place? Only a couple of possibilities. Collision – most likely, especially since its orbit had been slightly shifted – or an internal event that blows out the center of the mass – say, from melting ice or shifting of loosely attached pieces.
What else in astronomy was weird or didn't make sense? Lots of things. The funny doughnut asteroid was certainly not the strangest. Her own recent work in categorizing and correlating galaxy densities had been maybe as weird as things get. How can the human mind wrap around the idea of a galaxy, much less a family of, then a near-continuum of galaxies? What kind of foolishness are we astronomers up to anyway? Are we living out our few years on this planet wasting thoughts on faraway details that either don't matter, or worse, that take up our mental energies while we miss other things that may be more useful or even more interesting? But then what do we mean by useful? Or interesting? A third time she looked over at the myna, which seemed to have taken a certain liking to her, moving closer and closer, branch and twig by branch and twig, until it was looking directly at her from no more than three feet away. A fellow denizen of our planet, she noted, then put a finger forward to see if the bird might approach it. I'm kin to this funny flying thing. Very kin indeed. Eighty percent, or more, of my gene structure is identical with his.
The myna stepped forward, unfearing, and gently pecked at Sandra's finger, grasping it without bearing down. She wished she had some breadcrumbs. Then the rapport was broken. The bird released her, backed away, and flew to a roost a dozen feet away, in a ironwood tree growing alongside the porch. Turning, Sandra saw why. A woman was
approaching the table. Must be my lawyer.
Susan DeLong was quite a contrast in appearance to Sandra Hughes. Susan was dark-haired, a little chubby, short – maybe five one or two, instead of the five three she claimed – and in a formal gray dress, conservatively cut. She looked like a business woman. Her skin was wrinkled from exposure to the tropical sun and deep brown – a permanent tan. The mind showed in her eyes, piercing dark eyes that appeared to see everything. Susan's gaze darted around a lot, not locking long on anything, even the one to whom she spoke.
They indulged in small talk for a few minutes, during which both ordered lunch, Sandra a vegetarian pasta dish and Susan a Cobb salad. As they got down to business Sandra recounted the story of the nova she'd called Moby Dick. Finally, she came to the point of asking the lawyer the first real question.
“Is a suit like this – for slander, or some such thing – something that can fly? I mean, why would a person do this? I apologized to the guy for calling him an asshole, even if he really was.”
Susan smiled. “How well known is this ... “ She looked down at her note pad for the name. “ ... this Dr. Haim Sieber, is he well known in your field?”
Sandra shrugged. “I had not heard of him. But I know his program in Tel Aviv. A couple of others there I've met at meetings and read a paper or two from them.”
“So,” the lawyer said with a nod, “he's not especially famous.”
“No.”
“Do you know his age?”
The astronomer finished her beer. She'd nursed the bottle a long time. It had still been half full when the meal came. “I looked him up after all this started. He's forty-one, and down a couple of levels from the top dogs in the astronomical community in Israel. He's working in a top-notch European facility – quite new. I haven't been there myself but know about it. And not being higher up in their pecking order doesn't say he's good or bad. Often the best astronomers are the ones who aren't burdened with being bosses.”