Warp Point

by Darrell Bain

  “How in hell did that happen? How did you learn so quickly? What ... no, I'm asking questions too fast. Why don't you talk and we'll listen."

  Again, Dan and Stacey alternated telling their story of entering the ship and having their minds imbued with all the data brought to Earth with the ship, including sole control over its operation.

  “No damn wonder you feel like Atlas, Dan, and I guess Stacey must feel the same way. What do you plan on doing with the ship? Have you decided yet?"

  “I guess we'll have to take it back through the warp point, since it's programmed to do that first and won't deviate from it at all,” Stacey said. “However, we're going to be subject to the government's plans for us. I don't see a way of avoiding it other than taking the ship and running—and what would we do then?” She spread her hands in a gesture of futility at the lack of choices they had.

  “What would you like to do?” Tara asked, curious about how ordinary people were reacting to sudden, overwhelming power and knowledge.

  Dan answered. “We'd really like to sit here for a couple of years and study the innards of the ship with a big scientific contingent to help us. There's an incredible amount of data that could help America and the rest of the world too, if they'd just let us do it our way. But they won't. In fact, Chet is coming over for a conference in a little while to let us know what the president has in mind."

  “What's the matter? Does our beloved leader think he's too good to talk to you himself?"

  “He's ruled by the constraints of his office, too, you know. He can only do so much in situations like this. If he doesn't cooperate with what Congress and the military want, they'll simply impeach him and get someone in office who will."

  “Christ almighty, Dan. Isn't there any alternative to jumping the gun and going back blind through that congruency? Hell, we never realized there was such a thing until now. God knows what's waiting on the other side of it."

  “Just having you here is a help, Matt, believe me. However, you and Tara can start earning your money tomorrow after you've had a chance to unwind. We'll give you all the data from the ship about the warp point, as its being called, and see what you think.” He grinned. “You may as well start calling it a warp point, too. That's what the public has named it and that's what its designation'll be, inaccurate as it may seem to you."

  Matt and Tara's faces both brightened, but it was Matt who spoke for them. “Hey, we can live with calling it a warp point so long as we get all your data on it. That's great! We've been talking about it between ourselves, and of course we've kept up with what other good people in the field are thinking, so we might be able to come up with some ideas. In the meantime, is there a chance of another pitcher of this stuff? I feel the need of a good hangover to get my mind working right tomorrow."

  “Sure, but take it easy until after Chet comes over. You and him are the only two people we trust right now. God only knows who else we'll be saddled with."

  * * * *

  Chase Redglove was finding it hard to cope with all the decisions he was having to make in areas he knew absolutely nothing about, though he tried to pretend he was as knowledgeable as anyone else. However, President Berne wasn't as big a fool as he had thought he was. More and more he found himself being cut out of the loop and Gene Flanders being listened to. Even when he attempted to chop Flanders’ legs off at the knees, it didn't work; General Binds liked his assistant and saw what was happening. He told the president and that was that. Redglove knew the only reason he hadn't been fired already was because the president didn't want the hassle along with his other problems. He simply left him to deal with the picayunish political and economic affairs while Flanders concentrated on melding the State Department and military into a functioning team handling everything concerning the spaceship—and it appeared as if he were succeeding.

  Redglove decided there was only one option left to him if he wanted to retain his power in Washington and reap the benefits later on as a lobbyist and consultant. He would have to defect to the opposition and take his knowledge of how the president's inner circle worked with him. When he left his office at the end of the day, he carried what few personal belongings he had there with him—as well as several little data cubes chock full of political dirt and a list of where the slush fund accounts were kept, all to be revealed at the proper time. Every political party and individual in Washington had their little accounts that lubricated the business dealings with American and foreign companies, as well as financing shady political deals. The dirt on dealings overseas wouldn't be worth much, he knew. There was no other way to operate in foreign countries anymore; corruption in the rest of the world made American politicians look like children robbing their piggy banks. Knowledge of the accounts was common; the subject just wasn't talked about. But once he leaked the names of contributors to the hidden money, it would be.

  Chase Redglove was whistling to himself as he drove home, running a list of candidates through his mind and trying to decide which one to contact first. What happened with the spaceship no longer concerned him.

  * * * *

  President Berne felt tired to his very bones. He knew he was going to have to get more sleep if he intended to make rational decisions, but God in Heaven, what president ever had to deal with a problem like this? A spaceship from the stars; possibly even from beyond the stars, if some of the speculation about alternate universes was correct. He didn't understand how such a thing was possible, but General Binds and his science advisor assured him it was. Possible, that is; not necessarily a fact. Other so-called experts talked of the “warp point” as if they really knew how such a thing worked and what lay on the other side of it.

  “What's your opinion, General? Any idea at all of what'll happen when we take the ship back through the point it came from?"

  Binds shrugged and gave the president a faint smile. “Sir, no one knows for certain we can even find that spot again, although the Saddlers assure us the ship can do it. In fact, they say its programmed to do nothing else until that's accomplished. As to what lies beyond—they don't know, the scientists don't know and the ship isn't talking."

  The president slammed his hand down on his desk in frustration. “Damn it, this is ridiculous. Two perfectly ordinary people, and a space ship lands in their back yard and turns itself over to them and won't work for anyone else. It makes me wonder what kind of damn fools the little green men are! If it weren't for the pressure from every damn organization in the world, I'd say keep it on the ground for a year or two before doing anything else."

  “It could have been worse,” General Binds sympathized. “It might have landed in China, or one of the Middle Eastern countries controlled by the fanatics. Or Russia; they're doing their damnedest to assimilate an empire again."

  The president sighed. “Well, what about the Saddlers? They seem to be the key to everything. What do they want to do?"

  “They'd prefer to spend a long time studying the data downloaded to their minds before starting anything else, just like us. They want to help our country recover some of its lost wealth and power if possible, and dissuade the fanatics from trying to horn in on the process. They're no dummies; they can see the potential of the ship as clearly as anyone else."

  “They're idealists. Have you made it plain to them that the pressure to go see why that ship came here is steadily increasing, and that every government in the world wants to know about the beings who sent it and what they want from us?"

  “They've been told, but there's only so far we can go in ordering them to do anything, considering their position. On a side note, I have taken the precaution of protecting their immediate relatives, and it came barely in time. There was already a plot being set up to kidnap Dan Saddler's sister and Matt Selman's father. We stopped it, but it was a close thing."

  “Goddamn those ragheads! That's who was behind it, wasn't it?"

  “Yes, sir, we think so, but they committed suicide as our people closed in. We're trying to tra
ck their origin now, but the terrorists have gotten far more sophisticated than back at the beginning. The identification found on the bodies is almost certainly false."

  President Berne ran his fingers through his mane of silvery hair, tousling it but not detracting significantly from the distinguished appearance that had helped get him elected. “All right, General, here's what we'll do. Tell the Saddlers they have a maximum of three months to do whatever studies they think are needful. In the meantime, also inform them that we'll be selecting a crew for the ship and that we expect them to be ready to take it back through the warp point when the study period expires.” He paused for a moment, running various scenarios and possibilities through his mind, then went on. “Warn them that it's possible they'll have to take the ship out sooner than three months. We'll try to hold off that long, but there's no guarantee."

  “Yes, sir. I'll get to work picking a team for the selection process. I'd be grateful if you'd keep me informed on political considerations as we go along."

  “I'll have Gene set up a weekly meeting for you and I and any other parties we think necessary to be present. Will that suffice?"

  “That's fine, sir. Thank you."

  “Thank you, General. And be careful."

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Dan and Stacey and their guests were having another conference, the third in the month following the spaceship's descent. This was the first time it was attended by some of the scientists recruited to study the ship and possibly go with them when it departed. Dan scanned the den. The furniture had been rearranged and two more loungers and tables added to accommodate all the attendees.

  Chet was there, of course. He dropped by almost every day with reports from outside and to pick up any new data Dan or Stacey were ready to divulge.

  Dan felt somewhat guilty about asking Chet not to reveal facts about the defensive field or the weapons capability of the ship yet. It felt as if they were withholding information which might be vital to the nation, but so for it didn't seem to be hurting anything. When he and Stacey talked about it with the general, they all agreed that letting the world know might subject them to a missile strike by nations feeling threatened by such powerful arms. They also agreed that it might be useful later on and it was nothing vital to operating the ship in any case, or it wouldn't be once they did reveal it. In the meantime, progress in understanding the physical mechanisms of the ship was proceeding much slower than the world at large thought it should, leading to charges of secrecy, discrimination, withholding of data vital to the world and even accusations from Grand Imam Ashrah of blocking access to the very word of Allah, sent to believers on Earth directly from heaven.

  Once everyone was seated, General Hawkins introduced the newcomers, some of whom they had already met, but he went through the formalities anyway in case Matt and Tara hadn't encountered them yet. He went around the room, naming each in turn.

  “Terrell Blanco. He's a physicist, formerly with the University of New Mexico and a specialist in quantum theory. He's on a leave of absence at present.” Blanco had copper-colored skin and was in his mid forties, with a rapidly receding hairline. He wore slacks and a brown sports jacket.

  “Susan Cadler. Most of you have probably heard of her. She's responsible for the Cadler Algorithms used in the new line of computers being built for Boeing and IBM. She and Dr. Blanco worked together on an astronomy project a few years ago.” Cadler was tall and slightly overweight but still attractive despite being a couple of years past fifty. Strands of gray glistened among the blond tresses she wore coiled into a short braid. She sat with legs crossed and one hand on her knee, clutching the hem of her skirt.

  “Wynona Golden. She's a research neurologist at Texas A&M, on loan to us for the duration. We're hoping she can be of help in determining how the ship's computer, if that's what it is, managed to convey and input data to Dan and Stacey with so little a physical interface.” Golden was only in her thirties, very young to be at the top of her profession, an indication of considerable intellect and drive.

  Dan interrupted. “The initial download of data wasn't done using ... thought, I guess we have to call it, by mental means alone. We were connected to the ship's brain by the seats it designed for us and our hands on the console in front of us, then the interface was done by means of sight—or that's what we think, anyway. We were unconscious most of the time. Chet is right about the rest of it, though. We need only a minimum contact with the ship's controls to initiate action, though we do have to be inside the ship.” This wasn't strictly true, as Stacey noted by a very slightly elevated brow, but Dan wasn't yet ready to share the full extent of their ability to interact with the ship.

  “I'm glad you cleared that up,” Golden said with a beautiful smile aimed directly at him. She wore a pair of light red slacks almost the same color as her hair, with a white blouse that appeared to be under considerable strain from her generous breasts.

  Hawkins waited to see if anything else came of Dan's statement, then when no one spoke he continued, nodding in the next person's direction.

  “Berlin Soundman. He's a nuclear engineer, retired from the Navy and working for the AEC in the field of fusion energy and plasma physics.” Berlin had light coffee colored skin and black hair that wavered between nappy and curly as if it couldn't make up its mind. He wore it short and supplemented it with a small mustache and a little soul patch beneath his lower lip. He was casually dressed in jeans and cowboy boots, with a light, unbuttoned vest over a short sleeved white shirt.

  There were easy chairs facing the array of recorders and Hawkins sat down in the one that was placed in position to get the best view of whoever was speaking. A voice and sight recognition program had been activated the moment he began the conference and now had everyone in the room identified, by sight if not by voice.

  “I think that covers the introductions, for today at least,” Hawkins said. “Beginning with our next conference, I'll be gradually working the foreign scientists and observers into our group. We've also got some more specialists lined up, but they aren't needed immediately, as their fields are in biology, xenobiology, semantics, sociology, theology and the like. They'll be important later on but for now we want to concentrate on what's doable on the ground. And the first subject we want to get into is what we're calling a warp point."

  Dan saw Stacey frown the barest bit. It wasn't that she was dead set against taking the ship into space; she was as enthusiastic about space travel as he was. It was the thought of braving the warp point that had her worried, and the fact that whatever lay on the other side was so unfathomable that they had to send an empty ship. Stacey's expression induced him to attempt an explanation for the most worrisome detail.

  “Chet, you already know this, but I'd better explain one thing to the rest of you right now. The ship is programmed for only one flight at first: directly back to the warp point and through it. We thought at first we might be able to work around that problem, but the ship isn't going to budge. It's the warp point or nothing. However—"

  “Un momento,” Terrell Blanco interrupted. “Are you saying we go through, or into, the anomaly and that's it? There's no coming back?"

  “I was just getting ready to explain. The first excursion is through the warp point, no exceptions. However, both Stacey and I get the idea that once beyond that, the ship will be programmable to either come back home or undertake further exploration. In short, we'll be able to assume full control."

  “If we're allowed to return,” Stacey said, her frown deepening. “That's what bothers me. The empty ship, and only one destination at first. Why? I've read that since the ship came through the warp point, with astronomers and physicists able to measure and record the actual event afterwards, that they now understand space/time abnormalities enough to think they can calculate other warp points, too. Even so, that assumes the universe looks the same from the other side. We don't know that it does.” She glanced at Blanco to see if he agreed.


  “That's true. While we haven't discovered any other anomalies yet, we now know in general what to look for. I believe we could calculate our return from the other side once we've gone through it. However, Mrs. Saddler has brought up the one point we can't get around. Until someone has gone through what you call your warp point and returned, there is no evidence of what conditions may be like on the other side. It's entirely possible, judging only from theory, that the ship might arrive in another universe entirely, or even another dimension. In either case, physical laws may or may not be the same as here. It might also simply come out at another point in our own universe congruent with the position Earth occupies now. But there's no telling in advance whether it would be anywhere in our own neighborhood. It might be in our galaxy, but on the other side of it. It might be in another galaxy entirely.” He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “It might just be the next nearest star, or one in our spiral arm of the galaxy. The only way to determine these factors is to go and see."

  Stacey nodded. “That's what I thought. And that's why I'm worried. What if conditions here are so inimical to their form of life that they couldn't send a manned ship? If that's the case, then the reverse would be also true."

  Dead silence greeted her statement. It was something that obviously hadn't been considered before, not even by her husband. In retrospect, Dan didn't understand how it could have been overlooked, but ultimately decided it was a case of not being able to see the forest for the trees.

  “Didn't the ship download any data to you indicating what conditions we might encounter by going to its programmed destination?” Wynona Golden asked, again directing a smile at Dan.

  “No,” he said shortly, beginning to become annoyed at what appeared to be a blatant attempt at flirtation on her part when she should be devoting all her attention to the looming problems.

  “But perhaps it did and you simply have no recollection of it,” she persisted. “I could allot some time to a special session with you—or with you both, and do some EEG studies while questioning you. It might bring to light some data that's there but which you're unable to access."