Warp Point

by Darrell Bain

  Dan considered the proposal for a moment. It was barely possible, he supposed, but so far there had been no problem with accessing the new data. The difficulty was in the fact that so much had been downloaded to their minds that it was taking a lot longer than either of them had thought it would to integrate the knowledge with the rest of the storehouse in their minds, archives which had taken a lifetime to accumulate. “I really don't think that would help. However, we'll keep your thoughts on the subject as a possibility in case we decide it's necessary."

  Wynona looked disappointed but took his refusal with good grace. “Certainly. In the meantime, can you tell us anything else about how the ship's computer works? Is it anything like our computers or is it more like the neurological wiring of our brains, where trillions of synapses among neurons enable us to process information more efficiently, or rather to intuit conclusions with fewer facts?"

  Stacey tried to answer the question and found herself foundering. “Well, hardware is not my specialty, but I can tell you it's like nothing we've encountered before. You know we're designing our software now using a lot of neurological comparisons with computers, even though the way each processes information is completely different. A computer may have to consider millions or billions of bytes of data to come up with a simple answer to a question, where the brain would do the same thing but do it with much less expenditure of energy. We fill in the blanks, so to speak, with much of our thinking while computers require a complete set of parameters. As an example, we might recognize a face we've seen before simply by the shape of the eyebrows, while a computer recognition program requires many more comparisons before arriving at the same conclusion.” She stopped for a moment, trying to arrange her thoughts. “I know I'm not explaining this very well, and I know I'm telling you things most of you know already, but ... well, the ship doesn't use either method. It accesses data it's stored in us, as if we're sort of a neurological folder for it, with files arranged in the folder to suit its unique method of accessing the data. And since the data is stored in arrangements that it likes to use, that makes it difficult for us to access it and integrate it into our normal memories and knowledge base.” She paused again, then spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Am I making any sense at all?"

  Wynona jumped in immediately. “The only way for any of us to understand would be to record your brain waves while you're in contact with the ship. Otherwise, you're speaking a foreign language."

  “But we'd be speaking one anyhow, wouldn't we?” Dan interjected. “Suppose you did record our brain waves. Unless you understood what you were looking at, the data would be useless to you, wouldn't it?” He neglected to mention that he and Stacey were always more or less in contact with the ship, through its defensive field. It was another piece of information they had decided to conceal for the time being, without really knowing why. It just seemed a good idea to hold some information in reserve.

  Wynona looked around the den as if seeking help from the others, but she was the only expert there in matters of the mind.

  “Why don't we table that for the moment and move on,” Hawkins suggested. “We can come back to it later if necessary."

  Defeated for the moment, Wynona let it be, but Dan thought she didn't intend to forget about it. She was being too insistent about gaining access to his and Stacey's mind for some reason. He tucked the notion away for consideration later.

  “Suppose we talk about propulsion methods for a moment,” Berlin Soundman suggested. “If we can get an inkling of how the ship managed to both accelerate and decelerate without us recognizing anything resembling thrust, and of how the ship came in so slowly through the atmosphere and landed so lightly, perhaps we could build ships that could be controlled mechanically rather than the way you do it. Then we wouldn't necessarily have to go back through the original warp point; we could pick our own places to explore. We'd also be able to exploit our own solar system, without risking lives going into what might turn out to be an uninhabitable universe."

  Dan truly wished he could help here but it was impossible. He simply didn't have the mathematical background necessary to explain what the ship knew. In fact, he doubted if anyone on Earth did. And it wasn't merely mathematical theory that was needed in order to comprehend the mechanism of the ship's propulsion and the way it manipulated gravity. A huge amount of engineering also went into the ship's drive and here again, he didn't have the language to interpret the data, even if he understood it, which he didn't. “It's not possible Dr. Soundman, though I sincerely wish it were."

  “You mean we'll never be able to understand it?” His dark face grew lines, like a man aging quickly while they watched.

  “Oh no, I didn't mean it that way. I imagine we can eventually worm the basics from the system, unless we kill ourselves trying, although I suspect much of the technology won't be learned in our lifetimes; it's simply too advanced in comparison to ours. For instance, it uses gravity for propulsion—the weakest force in the universe."

  “Why—oh, I see the problem. The ship will have to be in operation, with us having instruments aboard and in space studying and recording as the ship performs. But it's only going to perform one way at first, and that's by going back through the warp point.” The lines disappeared from his face and he laughed ironically. “A Catch-22, isn't it?"

  “That's about the size of it,” Dan admitted. “However, I see no reason why you and Dr. Blanco and perhaps some others can't begin designing or buying the instruments you need and getting them aboard the ship. Also, General Hawkins can get some satellites and the private spaceships he's contracted with into space and be ready to record when we do take off."

  Hawkins nodded agreement. “I'll take care of my end, and you others let me know what you need and I'll put the logistical team to work. In the meantime, can we dispense with the titles and use first names?"

  It's certainly okay with me,” Matt said, his first contribution to the day's conversation. His mind had been wandering, thinking of a computer program he had initiated. It produced star maps of the Milky Way galaxy from the perspective of various trans-earth spots in the galaxy. He couldn't get the idea out of his mind that they might go through the warp point then not recognize where they were. They might not anyway, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. “And if you're including Tara and me in the ones bringing instrument packages, we'll begin getting you a list together. I can think of lots of measurements we'll want right off hand. Some of them should help Berlin and Terrell with their studies as well."

  “Keep it all in small packages if you can,” Hawkins said, “and check with either Dan or Stacey first to be sure you're not duplicating instrumentation already accessible by them. “By the time we get a crew together, the ship is likely to be crowded, big as it is to start with."

  “Why do you say that?” Susan asked.

  “Because we'll have to carry along supplies essential to colonizing another world, just in case it turns out we can't come back."

  That statement effectively ended the conference.

  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  Marvin Stanforth, the president's science advisor, couldn't make up his mind whether information was being withheld from him or not. It seemed to him that after more than a month, the Saddlers should have reported more progress. And yet, how was one to know? They were certainly cooperative. At his insistence, they had given him a guided tour of the ship that lasted half a day, yet he was little wiser.

  The spaceship was huge, and contained a great amount of storage and living area in comparison to the engineering and propulsion spaces, which he had been primarily interested in. He could make little sense of either and had to take the word of Dan and Stacey Saddler concerning its one destination. They even pointed it out to him on the screen in the control center, but that meant nothing; other destinations could be hidden by simply not being listed.

  Progress was already being made in equipping the ship for a voyage by humans. He had watche
d while one compartment underwent renovation at Saddler's command. He sat and placed his hands into padded slots and stared into a screen that seemed to have endless depth. In it, another room appeared. The walls and shelves and compartments began flowing as the rearrangement took place, turning what might have once been an alien living area into an astronomical observation center. A list of specifications describing the equipment to be moved into the room appeared and the area changed again, apparently making space for the instruments when they were ready. It took little more than a half hour, then Dan Saddler smiled at him.

  “See? The ship'll turn itself into a vehicle specifically functional for humans. Some of it is happening without instructions, but places like these have to be done over to accommodate our equipment. That was a speeded up scenario, by the way. The complete renovation won't be finished for a couple of days. Don't ask me how it's managed, though. All I can tell you is that a lot of the interior living and working areas are composed of an extremely malleable material."

  “Doesn't the ship come with its own equipment and instruments?"

  “Some, but not all. And a lot of it is so far in advance of our technology that it'll take lifetimes of study before we learn to use it properly. The ship's computer is a wonderfully designed mechanism, but it can't do everything."

  Stanforth left the Saddler property with a better appreciation of how much work was being done to prepare the ship for flight with humans aboard. A tremendous number of objectives must be accomplished within a limited amount of time, as both Saddlers pointed out. At his next meeting with the president, he recommended they be given an additional two months past the three already allocated before flight.

  The president looked grim. “They'll be lucky to get their three, and there's damn little I can do to change it. Tell General Hawkins to step it up. I'll give him all the money and personnel he needs but he has to hurry. I've got demands from all over the world to find out about that ship. They won't wait forever while we're fiddling around."

  “Yes, sir. I'll tell him."

  As Stanforth was leaving, he caught a glimpse of the president's next visitor. He was an Arab, and looked very familiar. Then he made the connection. That was King Alhusain of Saudi Arabia. No wonder the president seemed so harried and worn lately. Already, some oil shipments had been embargoed, and there were threats of more to come. Dan and Stacey Saddler had better get a move on, he decided, even as busy as they already were.

  * * * *

  Dan and Matt were out walking in the late evening, trying to relax after a long day, but inevitably the talk turned to business.

  “This still seems like a dream to me,” Matt said, unavoidably glancing back at the bulk of the spaceship. It rose high from behind the first tree line past the house, dwarfing everything else in the vicinity by its massiveness. They walked toward the back of the property, following an old logging road that had been kept free of intruding brush.

  “You? What about me? Dan Saddler, spaceship commander, intrepid astronaut, and totally without a clue about where we're going or what we're going to do when we get there."

  Matt had to laugh at his friend, even though he knew the responsibilities thrust on him must be wearing. “Dan, suppose we had discovered a method of finding a warp point and building a ship ourselves and taking it through. Even if we didn't know what was waiting on us, wouldn't you have loved to be one of the first to go?"

  Dan thought about it a moment then conceded. “Yeah, you're right, I would have. I guess it's the empty ship, with only a single destination, that's giving me the willies. It had to be created or built by someone or something intelligent; probably more intelligent than us. Certainly they're far more advanced technically than we are. So what do they want with us or from us?"

  “Not but one way to find out, old buddy. Go and see."

  As if they had suddenly stepped into a scene for a war movie, a series of shots and screams erupted nearby. The whiz of a bullet passing over their heads catapulted Dan back into the past, when he had served as a communications officer in one of the gulf wars where combat could erupt at any moment, from any direction. He flung himself at Matt, who stood as if paralyzed, his lack of combat experience keeping him from understanding what was happening. They tumbled to the ground together in a tangle of hands and feet.

  “Goddamn me for a fool for not bringing a weapon with me!” Dan cursed, even while his agile mind was analyzing the situation. “Come on, Matt, crawl! Head back toward the house. Some fucking bandits're trying to break through and capture us."

  As if to emphasize the point, the clatter of an automatic weapon drowned out the sounds of individual rifle and pistol shots, then an explosion overwhelmed those noises.

  “RPG.” Dan looked behind him and saw his friend was lagging behind. “Crawl faster, Matt! That explosion was probably them going after a vehicle bringing reinforcements. Matt, a few yards further on, we'll come to a narrow little cattle trail. As soon as we do, get up and take off. Run like a bat out of hell. The trail'll take us back to the house. Come on, hurry!"

  Matt finally recovered from his initial befuddlement and scurried after Dan with the urgency of a crab running from a pelican on a beach. Voices coming nearer gave him more speed on hands and knees than he thought possible.

  “Now!” Dan was up and running.

  Matt gained his feet and followed, ignoring overhanging branches that slapped his face and upper arms, leaving deep scratches.

  Dan knew where he was going and only hoped they wouldn't get shot by their own people when they broke from cover where the trail would emerge near one of the outbuildings. As they neared it, he began shouting. “It's me! Dan Saddler! Don't shoot!"

  A series of bullets chewed into a tree trunk uncomfortably close to his head, making him think their pursuers had abandoned the idea of kidnapping him and now thought having him dead was better than letting him get away. As he broke into the open, he saw a guard he recognized. “Joe! They're behind us. Watch yourself!” He continued running, taking only a bare instant to be sure Matt was following. As he passed the guard he saw puffs of burnt cloth and dust erupt from the man's chest. He fell. Dan thought he was almost surely dead but nevertheless he made himself stop to see if he could help. At that instant a gunman holding a Kalashnikov rifle burst from the brush at the end of the cattle trail. He aimed and fired a full clip directly at Dan.

  A second later, Dan realized he should be dead; instead he had heard the whine of rifle bullets being deflected by the ship's defensive field. It was only then that he realized he, and most likely Matt, had been protected all the time—though he doubted that he would have trusted the field that far.

  More troops were coming up and taking defensive positions. A few minutes later Dan and Matt were well beyond the last vestiges of the firefight, where enveloping troops corralled and killed their pursuers when they refused to surrender.

  Dan leaned over, hands on his knees and breathing hard, thinking that he'd better start exercising again if this kind of thing was an example of future events.

  Stacey appeared at the back door but was prevented from exiting by a guard. Dan rose and walked as fast as he could toward her, with Matt by his side. Before they got to the house, Tara was behind Stacey, waiting with her.

  Dan pushed the guard aside and took Stacey in his arms, holding her so close he could feel the rapid beat of her heart. “It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not hurt.” He backed away a few inches. “Matt? How bout you?"

  “Just some scratches from branches and brambles, I think. Damn, I didn't know I'd wind up in a war out here."

  “Get inside, you two,” Stacey ordered. “Don't stand here in the doorway like dummies. There may be more of whoever it was.” Inside, she asked “Dan, did you see? Who was it shooting at you?"

  “I never saw them, but they were speaking Arabic, I think. Whatever, that was a little too close for comfort. But the defensive field works; I can testify to that for sure now. Bullets just bounced off me. I don'
t care, though. From now on, when I leave the place I'm going armed. You, too, sweetheart.” He realized he was speaking too fast and closed his mouth before he said something that didn't even make sense.

  Hawkins came through the back door, not bothering to knock. He overheard the tag end of their conversation. “I doubt if you'll be allowed outside again after this. Goddamned crazy bastards. What did they think they'd do if they killed you?"

  It wasn't until that night, while Stacey was asleep that a sudden thought caused him to sit up in bed. How had the intruders known he and Matt were going for a walk? It was a long time before he fell asleep.

  General Hawkins had thought of the same thing long before. Even after Dan finally dropped off to sleep, Hawkins was still in conference with his intelligence officer, going over personnel files and trying to narrow down the list of possible spies. Or traitors, as he thought of them.

  * * * *

  The Reverend Murray McCoy was pushing hard to be named chaplain for the upcoming flight of the spaceship, even though such a post hadn't been formally announced yet. As yet, no admission had been made that there would even be a flight, though there were few people in the world who thought there wouldn't be.

  “I've got a chance, now that the Pentecostals have opted out,” he said.

  “I'd have thought they'd insist on a seat,” James Calvin said. He was chairman of the new interfaith committee that religious denominations in the United States had organized in response to the appearance of the alien ship. He leaned back in his chair, trying to get comfortable. Old age was catching up with him, otherwise he would have volunteered for the seat himself.

  “I talked to Mike yesterday. It hasn't been made public yet, but they've voted on a stance that links the spaceship with Satan."

  “Hmm. That General Hawkins has the final say, doesn't he?"