The Asteroid

by M R Cates

  “You're speaking of remarkable capabilities,” Vigola said. “How confident are you, Sandra or Dr. Von Drath, that these kinds of things are actually being done?”

  Carl looked at Sandra, who waited for him. He said, “We cannot have any degree of confidence for any of these possibilities, Ms. Vigola. But we can see that amazing things have been done. Naturally, we believe some kind of natural explanation must exist.”

  Sandra added, “Here's what we know, Madeleine and Joe. We know that the front surface of the craft didn't reach high temperatures as it entered the atmosphere. And, related to that, we know that a light plume was propagated in front of the craft. We know that the two sets of clocks – previously synchronized to the microsecond – lost track. We know that the trajectory of the craft through the atmosphere – namely, its height and speed – didn't follow a free-fall path. They were supplying energy to keep it aloft and on their track. The spectral data indicate, too, that some of the reddish emissions continued through the whole track and continue at some level as we speak.”

  “Their communications?” Vigola supposed.

  “Likely.” Sandra took another bite of pizza and chewed a moment. “They seem to extend away from the object. We can only guess where they go because they fade or diffuse quickly. Our supposition here is communication. But we are applying logic that would apply to us. Who really knows?”

  Françoise had just finished her pizza and was drinking from the soft drink can. She was taken by a thought, holding the can poised as she said, “Is it possible, you see, to ... well, for the aliens' communications lights – those red oscillations – to be absorbed into the space, then reappear somewhere else? Perhaps at the asteroid.”

  Sandra put a hand to her head, scratching briefly. “That might explain the limited range we can follow. Why, however, did they arrange this extensive system of satellites – the four geosynchronous ones and the close-in Fragment Five? If they can materialize light or matter from space, why not do everything from Asteroid 1744 itself?”

  Carl, looking slightly uncomfortable in his chair, shifted before saying, “For both to be true – that is, if they needed the fragments as they were put and can also materialize and dematerialize matter – there has to be some sort of distance limitation on the process.”

  “Maybe,” Sandra nodded. “Let's work on that premise, then.” She looked over at Carstairs and Vigola. These two people, seemingly just part of the conversation, represented the authority of the strongest human forces on the planet. Much of what President McBrand or even the United Nations might do would be based on the Chief of Staff's input. Vigola was not here accidentally, and despite her more relaxed and cooperative mood, was not a woman to trifle with. It was with some reluctance, then, that Sandra continued. “If – God forbid – we have to respond to some kind of threat from the aliens, we'll need to consider everything we might know about them.”

  Carstairs was suddenly more alert. “What sort of threat are you imagining, Dr. Hughes?”

  Sandra made herself take a drink, then answered. “It's Sandra, Joe, please. What threat? I don't have any idea really. It seems pretty clear, however, that they have the ability to cause us considerable grief if they should decide to. The best emergency procedures we could put into place are already happening, as we understand. We need a system of communication around our planet that doesn't depend on space. The aliens can disrupt all our satellite links, probably, anytime they wish. And we need to relocate any critical centers and capabilities away from the shorelines, and I understand that, too, is happening. I don't need to mention the space vehicles on alert for prompt launches – though I doubt any of these would be of much value.”

  “Why not, Sandra?” Vigola asked. She knew every word they said was being heard back in Washington, but didn't expect Sandra and the others knew it.

  “Depending on how far away they can work their magic, the trajectories of anything launched might be affected by the same kinds of manipulations they have done to their own rocks. Can you imagine a nuclear warhead being turned around and headed back toward earth, with the electronic link broken so it couldn't be detonated out in space?”

  “I see your point,” Vigola nodded. “So you contend we have no offensive options – in case of attack?”

  “No,” Sandra said, glancing at Carl as she did so. I have some ideas I've been mulling over. Let Carl and me chat about them later. The need to bring them up just now doesn't seem critical to me. By the way, Madeleine, are these conversations going by satellite back to Washington or by undersea lines?”

  The Chief of Staff had been blind sided, left speechless for a moment. Françoise and Jason exchanged glances but kept their faces unexpressive. Vigola then said, “These ... well, actually, by ... yes, by satellite, of course. But encrypted.”

  “It would be good to change the method,” Sandra said calmly. “We have to assume the aliens will figure out our encryption.”

  “But no one could do that without years of computing,” Carstairs protested.

  “No human could,” Sandra said, eyes locking on his. “These are not humans, Joe.”

  “But why would undersea lines be better?” Vigola asked. She seemed a little irritated – for the first time.

  “Nothing to intercept in space. The information is contained within the optical fibers that run physically from one place to another. Even the evanescent wave that leaks out a little bit into the cladding of the fiber is contained to a high degree of certainty within the cable sheathing. We're lucky that we have such a link from the Big Island to Oahu, then across to California. We should use it.”

  With a huge effort to maintain composure, Madeleine Vigola nodded. “I ... yes, that's an excellent suggestion, Dr. ... er, Sandra. We ...” She looked at her deputy. “We probably should arrange that.”

  “When it's all worked out, we'll talk more about this subject,” Sandra said.

  It was a rare experience for the Chief of Staff to find herself following someone else's agenda, and it was admittedly a source of irritation. On the other hand, Vigola had not gotten where she was without wisdom and objective thinking. She grudgingly admitted that this woman whom the aliens insisted on meeting with was no ordinary person, or even ordinary scientist. She looked at Sandra for a moment, the look carrying a certain admiration mixed with caution. “So,” Vigola said, “if you've been thinking about this issue, Sandra, shouldn't we have been careful about the earlier discussion of the possible use of energy by the aliens?”

  Sandra ran a hand through her hair. “They need to hear our speculations about them – in my judgment anyway. They need to know that we're as curious about them as they may be about us. They also need to know that we aren't a bunch of belly-scratching apes just hanging out down here and waiting for them to do something. Most importantly, however, they need to know that we don't wish to be a threat to them but will not take kindly to any violence perpetrated against us.”

  “I didn't expect you to enter into that area of thought,” Vigola said. “As a scientist, I mean.”

  “Person first, Madeleine. Scientist second.”

  Chapter 34

  There was not much time to wait before the first passage of Fragment Five after dark. But neither was there much else to do to prepare for the expected message. All the instrumentation was in place, calibrated, and ready. All coordinating laboratories around the world were tuned in and communicating, and all the connecting links were in place, including the link to Washington D.C. This link remained via satellite but there was nothing to do about that. With Sandra's alert, however, the likelihood that non-essential discussion would take place was greatly reduced. The main difference between this night and any other night observing Fragment Five was that now all the cooperating laboratories around the world knew that an alien craft was floating offshore, not very far from the Keck Observatory.

  Now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, and with dozens of organizations interconnected around the world, ther
e was the near-certainty that what they were doing that night would be leaked to the press. Madeleine Vigola was perfectly aware of this likelihood and had expressed it to her boss, President McBrand and to others in the U.S. – U.N. team that had been aware of the first communications. Vigola hoped that the aliens would get their announced communication “over with” as soon as possible. The period of grace the inner group would have would be quite short; but it was at least possible that the details of what the aliens might say could be kept secret for long enough to make planning for the next steps more deliberate and less frenetic.

  Françoise and Jason were too busy to involve themselves with these concerns. Each sensed the significance of her or his role, but didn't have the luxury of idle moments to revel in their own value. Sandra was less busy this time, and did let her mind explore these other issues. Her outward appearance was as calm and controlled as ever, but she said less, and made fewer facetious comments. Carl certainly noticed this difference. He could hardly imagine the conflicting currents running through her at that moment. More than once he was inwardly grateful that Sandra was the person in the alien spotlight. Madeleine Vigola, with less ability to assess Sandra's moods, was nonetheless impressed by the astronomer's calm energy. It was a further inner putdown of herself that Vigola realized she had been guilty of a little sexism. She, of all people! Whatever the goings on in all those minds around the Keck control room, when the clock reached 7 pm, with the image of Fragment Five dominating several of the display screens, it would have been possible to cut the tension in the air.

  Sandra's fingers went through a series of nearly automatic inputs, electronically alerting various instruments around the world. She was able to continue this while the image data were constantly being recorded. There was cup of cold coffee next to her. She raised it, sipped and made a face. Françoise, ready to go at her station, looked over and smiled. “I'll get you a hot cup, Sandra. Okay?”

  Looking around at the student, the astronomer gave her a grateful nod, and continued typing.

  Françoise bounded down the hall in her shorts, tanned legs making nice viewing for Jason, indeed for Carl and Carstairs. She was back in less than a minute, a steaming cup in each hand. One was presented to Sandra, the other to the old astrophysicist.

  “Dr. Carl,” she said, using a term of endearment for the old man she'd gradually evolved to, “it is very good, you see. I made it just an hour ago.”

  He nodded and sipped. Sandra had already gulped down half of hers. She had raised the cup to her lips again, at 7:07, when the flashes from Fragment Five began.

  Jason was the first to speak. “Six flashes, Sandra. Long message.”

  She nodded. The interpretation was essentially real time, appearing on the screen as Jason spoke. Carstairs and Vigola came to their feet to stand behind Sandra. The message read:

  “Two days from now, on July 18th, at 4:00 pm, Hawaii time, Doctor Sandra Hughes is expected to be in a boat two miles east of the landed craft. The boat used cannot contain any trace of metal, nor can Doctor Hughes wear metal. Doctor Hughes is expected to bring food and drink sufficient for three days. No other items are required. No other humans shall approach the landed craft closer than a fifty mile radius.”

  The quiet in the control room was so complete that the cooling fans of various electronic devices sounded like roaring in the background. Sandra turned her head to the two behind her. “Damn, I'm going to have to row out there to them.” Then she added a wan smile.

  After catching her breath, the scientist continued communications with cooperating observatories, partly to keep gathering information on the six orbiting objects, and partly to give little or no clue that the Kecks had received a message. As before, the information had been directional, unreadable anywhere but on the top of Mauna Kea. They stayed busy until about eight o'clock, talking little, when the replacement team was summoned to the control room. In Washington, the assembled team was evaluating the message, word by word.

  The six retired down the hall to a conference room. Françoise made another pot of coffee during the transition, giving each person at the table a steaming cup of Kona's best. A pair of video screens continued showing various images. Fragment Five itself was nearly out of range.

  Madeleine Vigola assumed a moderator's role and said, “Any comments from any of you?”

  Carl was looking exhausted. It had been a long day for him. But he was first to speak. “For reasons we might guess could be valid, our alien friends want to avoid metal. I am concerned that Sandra may have some difficulty in reaching the expected location.”

  Sandra scratched her hair. “Surely the aliens know they are establishing severe ground rules.” She seemed almost to be talking to herself. “We're talking crossing about 48 miles of open ocean without a engine. Sailing is the only way. What about the prevailing wind out there? Do you know, Jason?”

  The young man rubbed at his chin. “It's from the northeast as usual, I suppose.”

  “As the aliens would know,” Sandra said. “Well, they'd know if they've studied our atmosphere, and I'll wager they have.”

  Joseph Carstairs said, “The meteorologists will certainly be looking at the weather day after tomorrow. But I suspect Jason is right.”

  The Chief of Staff said, “Sandra, is that something you can do? Sail?”

  “I sailed little boats on Texas lakes back in high school and college. Never in the ocean.”

  “Is sailing the only option?” continued Vigola.

  “Unless someone knows about a marine engine with no metal in it,” Sandra replied. She turned back to Jason. “I could start out at our fifty mile point exactly down wind of the proposed two-mile meeting location, and let the wind blow me there. Probably will take four or five hours.”

  Vigola nodded. She knew, of course, that the experts would be busily evaluating all conceivable options. Sailing in, however, seemed the only option to her as well. “Do you think you can handle a sailboat on the ocean, Sandra?”

  “Damned if I know. Guess I'll have to. What kind of boat are we talking about?”

  Carstairs, who apparently had a little knowledge in this area, said, “There are a number of fiberglass boats available, but all have some kind of metal components in their rigging, if I remember correctly.”

  “Molded fiberglass,” Jason nodded. “Maybe the body of the boat itself would be no problem. The rigging, however, might have to be re-done without metal. I suppose that's possible.”

  “It will have to be,” said the Chief of Staff. “Let me call Washington and be sure they're thinking about that part of the problem.” She extracted a cell phone from her purse and went out into the hallway to make the call.

  Sandra, attacking this as she would any problem, went to the white board in the room, beginning a sketch. “Probably the masts easily available are going to be aluminum,” she said. “So we'll need fiberglass poles. Better would be carbon fiber composite, but I don't know if its conductivity will be a problem. Let's stick with fiberglass composite. The hardware could be molded plastic – nylon, if it can be found. Otherwise, some lab somewhere is going to have to fabricate it and get it here in a day or so. Doable.” Again she seemed to be talking as much to herself as the others. “It has to be wind. I can't imagine another way to get out there without metal.”

  “I can't either,” Carstairs said.

  Jason said, “There's PVC pipe, used for plumbing and such. It might be work.”

  Carstairs nodded. “Probably is strong enough,” he agreed.

  Sandra rubbed her hair a moment, then said, “Who would have ever thought they'd put that kind of restriction on us?”

  Madeleine Vigola entered as Sandra was asking the question. Her eyes were bright with energy. “Washington is very skeptical about this,” she said. “They are considering whether to contact the fragment and say we can' t do it.”

  Carl asked, “What do you think, Ms Vigola?”

  “I'm reluctant to tell the aliens no,” Vi
gola said.

  Sandra said, “We have to assume they know what they're asking. The business about the metal may in fact be accurate. On the other hand, there is absolutely nothing we know about the morality or honesty of these beings. If they have assessed us in some sophisticated way, it could be that they are taking advantage of what they've learned.”

  “What do you mean, Sandra?” Vigola asked.

  “Look at it this way, Madeleine. If a human being goes out there to meet them taking no metal, then we take no weapons, no radios, no recorders, nothing but our human body and maybe a plastic pen and paper. And the closest other human will be 48 miles away.”

  “I see the point,” Vigola said. “Washington's reluctance is certainly based on that situation. They have their minds locked into the idea that you will be instrumented and in constant contact with us.” She looked slightly forlorn, an unusual appearance for Madeleine Vigola.

  “Has no one in Washington a better approach,” Carl asked Vigola, “than sailing into the designated location?”

  Vigola gave a shrug of her shoulders. “No one has thought of another way. Compressed gas cylinders were suggested by someone, making a kind of jet boat. But no one knows of a cylinder that doesn't have metal fittings. It would require a re-design there is no time for.”

  Sandra asked, “Can we find the proper boat to use tomorrow, for sailing lessons?”

  “I think we can,” Vigola said. The non-metallic hardware is going to be the hardest thing. But I think they're already calling boat dealers in Honolulu. There's a kind of fiberglass sailboat called a Sun Devil Fish. It's ...” She glanced at a piece of paper where she'd taken notes. “It's fairly large, so might be adequate on a calm ocean. By the way, meteorologists don't predict any rough seas for the 18th. The Sun Devil Fish is eighteen feet long.”