The Hunter team talked about what they hoped to find in the Golden Pitcher. The Dream.
Nothing else mattered.
Tripley’s recurrent assertions, “We’re going to do it this time, Markis; I know it,” took on special poignancy.
She saw again Kane’s infatuation with Emily. And hers with him.
She watched moodily, not expecting the record to deviate from the one she remembered until Hunter arrived off Alnitak. And probably even then it would not happen until just before they encountered the celestial. She was wrong.
It was almost three A.M. on day six when Kane, wearing a robe, appeared in the pilot’s room with a cup of coffee. He sat down, checked his instruments, looked at the time, and activated his harness. “Okay, everybody, buckle in.”
Voices broke in over the intercom.
Yoshi: “Would somebody please tell me what’s going on?”
Emily: “We have a surprise for you.”
Yoshi: “In the middle of the night?”
Tripley: “Yes. It’s worth it.”
Yoshi: “So what is it? Markis, what are we doing?”
Kim froze the picture, sat back in her chair, and stared at Kane’s image in the glow of his instruments. In the doctored version, this hadn’t happened.
No surprises for Yoshi.
And she knew now why Walt Gaerhard, the Interstellar technician, had been reluctant to talk about the jump engine repairs to which he’d signed his name.
There had been no repairs.
There’d been no damage.
28
We value Truth, not because we are principled, but because we are curious. We like to believe we will not tolerate manipulation of the facts. But strict knowledge of what has occurred often inflicts more damage than benefit. Mystery and mythology are safer avenues of pursuit precisely because they are open to manipulation. Truth, ladies and gentlemen, is overrated.
—E. K. WHITLAW: Summary in the Impeachment Trial of Mason Singh, 2087 C.E.
The Hunter Logs: February 17–19, 573
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” It was Yoshi’s voice. But only Kane was visible, relaxed in his chair. He was looking off to his right, gazing out beyond the view of the imager. Kim, recalling the design of the Hunter, knew he was looking through large double windows. The overhead screen depicted the Alnitak region, the vast roiling clouds, the dark mass of the Horsehead, the brilliant nebulosity NGC2024, the giant star itself, and the sweeping rings of the Jovian world.
“We thought you’d not want to miss it.” Emily this time. “There’s nothing quite like it anywhere we’ve been.”
She came into the picture now and sat down in the left-hand chair. “I think,” she said, “we should have dinner tonight out on one of the terraces.”
“Precisely what we had in mind.” That was Tripley. Kim judged from the body language of Emily and Kane that their colleagues were not physically present in the pilot’s room. “In fact, we’ve made it a tradition to do that whenever we’ve been out here.”
Something on the control board caught Kane’s eye. He made adjustments, looked at his screens, and frowned. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“What is it, Markis?” asked Tripley’s voice.
“I don’t know. We’re getting a return—”
“What kind of return?”
“Metal. Moving almost perpendicular to the plane of the system.”
Emily leaned forward to get a better look at the screen. “Is that significant? I wouldn’t think a chunk of iron’s that much out of the ordinary.”
“This one appears to have some definition.” After a pause: “But don’t get excited. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Nevertheless, Emily’s face took on an aura of hope.
“Markis.” Tripley again.
“It’s on your monitor now, Kile. We’re still too far away to make anything of it.”
“You think it might be an artificial object?”
“I think it’s a chunk of iron.” He pressed a key on the control panel. “So everybody knows,” he said, “the Foundation requires us in any unusual circumstance to record everything that happens throughout the ship until we resolve the situation. Save for private quarters, of course. We will go to full recording mode in one minute. So get your clothes on back there, kiddies.”
“Can we get a picture of the thing?” asked Yoshi.
“It’s still too far away.”
“How far is that?”
“Seven hundred thousand kay. It’s in orbit, about to drift behind the planet. We’ll lose it in a few minutes.”
“Not altogether, I hope,” said Emily.
“No chance,” said Kane. They watched it drop down the sky, disappearing finally behind the rim of the big planet.
“Kile, I assume we want to take a closer look?”
Tripley laughed. “Sure. Why not, as long as we’re here?”
“How long before we see it again?” asked Yoshi.
“Don’t know. We didn’t get enough to plot an orbit.”
“Just stay with it,” said Tripley.
“All right.” Kane gave directions to the AI. “If we’re going to pursue we should get rolling. Everybody belt down.” Hunter rotated, realigned itself, and the mains fired.
They’d been running for almost three quarters of an hour when the object reappeared. Kane tried unsuccessfully to acquire an image. “It’s still too far,” he said.
“Markis.” It was the AI. “The object is in a long irregular orbit. It’ll decay quickly. Within about six weeks, in fact.”
“When will we catch up with it?” asked Tripley.
Kane put the question to the AI.
“Late tomorrow morning,” came the answer.
Two lamps burned dimly in the pilot’s room.
Rings and moons dominated the windows. At 2:17 A.M., the AI woke Kane. “We have definition, Markis.”
The object was smooth, not the rugged piece of rock and iron one would have expected. It was shaped somewhat like a turtle-shell.
Kane studied it for almost ten minutes, enhanced it, tapped his fingers on the console, nodded to himself. Eventually he opened the intercom. “Friends,” he said quietly, “we have an anomaly.”
They padded one by one into the pilot’s room, in bare feet, all wearing robes. All cautiously excited. Emily looked at the overhead, the others turned to the windows, into which Kane had placed the image. “It’s an enhancement,” he explained. “But I think this is close to what’s really out there.”
They stared quietly. Yoshi stood near Tripley and they seemed to draw together. Emily’s face shone.
“It’s not very big,” Kane said.
“How big is that?”
“A little more than a half meter long, maybe two-thirds as wide.”
Kim could almost feel the room deflate.
“It looks like a toy,” said Yoshi. “Something somebody just tossed overboard.”
It was tumbling, turning slowly end over end.
Tripley stood near a desk lamp. He turned it off so they could see better. “Just for argument’s sake,” he said, “is there any possibility of a local life-form?”
Emily shook her head. “Alnitak puts out too much UV.”
“But we don’t really know that it couldn’t happen,” Tripley said.
“Almost anything’s possible,” said Emily. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”
Antennas and sensor pods were becoming visible. Kane tapped the window. “It has a Klayson ring.”
It might have taken a minute for the implication to set in. A Klayson ring indicated jump capability.
“Aside from the size,” said Emily, “anybody ever seen this kind of design before?”
Kane shook his head. “I’ve run a search. It doesn’t match up with anything.”
“It’s a probe,” said Emily. “Probably left by the survey unit when it was here.”
“Can’t be,” said Kane.
/>
“Why not?”
“The Klayson ring.”
“Some probes have Klayson rings,” insisted Emily.
“Not this size. It’s too small. We wouldn’t know how to pack a jump system into a package like this. Unless there’s been a major advance in the last few months.”
“Are you suggesting,” said Yoshi, “it’s a celestial artifact?” She barely breathed the conclusion.
Kane got up, went over to the window, and studied the object. “I don’t want to get everybody excited, but I don’t think we, or anybody we know, left this here.”
They looked at one another. Tentative smiles appeared. Emily pressed her hand to her lips. Tripley glanced around the room as if he feared someone would have a more straightforward explanation. Yoshi stood unmoving in front of the windows, beside Kane.
“Don’t be discouraged by its size,” said Kane. “It might still be possible to talk to it. There might be an AI of one sort or another on board.”
“Let me ask a question,” said Tripley. “Does intelligent life have to be big?”
Emily nodded. “Theoretically, yes. Got to have big brains.”
“Theoretically. But is that really true?”
No one knew.
Kane looked up from his console. He seemed to be alone in the pilot’s room. “Kile,” he said to the commlink.
Tripley and the others showed up literally within seconds.
“We’re getting power leakage,” he told them. “It’s not dead.”
“Magnificent!” Tripley jabbed his right fist in the air and turned toward the women. “Ladies,” he said, “I do believe we’ve done it!”
They embraced all around. Emily kissed Kane’s cheek while he pretended to be annoyed, and Yoshi threw her arms around him.
“From this point,” said Tripley, “we will proceed on the assumption that they’re alive over there.”
When they overtook the turtle-shell they were looking down on the rings from a point somewhere over the north pole. Kane closed to within forty meters of the object. He’d arranged the approach so that Alnitak was behind the Hunter, to prevent its blinding the imagers.
Everybody was in the mission control center, save Kane, who stayed in the pilot’s room. Tripley sat down at a comm console, looked at his colleagues, and signaled to Kane, whose virtual image occupied a chair. Kane nodded and Tripley put his index finger on the transmission key. Kane had pointed out that the AI could handle all the transmissions, but the moment was a bit too historic for that.
“Okay,” said Kane. “When you’re ready—”
Tripley pressed the key once. Then twice. He looked up at his colleagues and beamed. “Maybe,” he said, “the first communication—”
He tapped it again, three times.
“—between humans and their starborn siblings—”
Four.
“—has just been sent.”
They looked at one another expectantly. In the windows, the turtle-shell tumbled slowly across a moonscape.
“It’s dark over there,” said Kane.
Emily shook her head. “It’s too small. It’s a pity. But I’ll settle for the artifact.”
“You give up too easily,” said Yoshi. “Try again, Kile.”
Tripley resent. One, two, three, four.
The room glowed with the colors of the rings.
“I think Emily’s right,” said Tripley. “If anybody were there, they’d certainly want to respond.”
They tapped out the signal a third time. Then Yoshi sat down at the key and continued patiently to send.
“Something to consider,” said Kane, studying the image. He pointed at an object mounted in the nose of the turtle-shell. It looked like a bracket or fork. “It might have an attack capability.”
“Why would they attack?” asked Emily.
“You’re poking a strange animal. What I’m saying is that it could happen. It might be a good idea to think about it.”
“They’re not going to shoot at us,” said Tripley. “Why would they bother? They don’t even know us.”
Kane’s voice was unemotional. “Think about our relative sizes. We’re what, several hundred times as big as they are. If there’s really something alive over there, I’d expect them to be nervous. If our situations were reversed, I sure as hell would be.”
“So what are you suggesting?” asked Emily.
“That we be prepared to back off on short notice. Which means if I say we’re leaving, I’ll want everyone to belt down quickly, and to do it without argument. I doubt that the occasion will arise, but I won’t want to get into a discussion if it does.”
“Okay,” Emily said, without bothering to conceal her amusement. “If they shoot, we run. I don’t think anybody’s going to argue with that.”
“So what’s next?” asked Yoshi. “They don’t seem to have their radio turned on. What else can we do?”
“Blink the running lights,” said Emily.
Tripley nodded. “Okay.”
Kane turned them off and then on again. Waited a few seconds. Turned them off. Turned them on.
They kept it up for a while. After a few minutes Tripley asked whether anyone else had an idea.
“Yes,” said Yoshi. “Why don’t we back away so they don’t think we’re pushy? Let them make a move, if they’re inclined. They have to be as curious as we are.”
They agreed it was worth trying, and Kane withdrew to a range of five kilometers and assumed a parallel orbit.
They spent the next few hours in a long, generally pointless and often circular discussion. The turtle-shell seemed unlikely to be a warship under any circumstances because the Alnitak region was a no-man’s-land, a place that could not conceivably be of strategic value. It was also probably not a trader or commercial vessel for the same reason. And that left only survey and research. If the vessel was not completely automated, and if it was in fact a vessel, then it should be staffed by scientists. But if that were so, why hadn’t they responded?
Tripley suggested they try the radio again. They changed the transmission to one-three-five-seven and put it on automatic. It ran for two hours before they gave up and shut it down.
“We need to start talking,” said Emily, “about what we do when they don’t answer.”
“That’s easy,” said Kane.
Everyone looked at him, surprised. Kane customarily avoided making policy suggestions that concerned the mission, as opposed to technical matters or the operation of the ship. “We take a lot of pictures and go home.”
“No,” said Tripley. “It’s out of the question.”
“Even if there were no other considerations,” Yoshi said, “they seem to be adrift and in a decaying orbit. If there’s anybody in there, and we leave them, they’ll die.”
“If we go back with nothing more than pictures,” said Tripley, “the scientific community would excoriate us.”
“I can think of three possible reasons why they aren’t responding,” said Kane. “One, it is automated. Two, they’re all dead. Three, they’re playing possum. Floating out here in a decaying orbit suggests they’re damaged. They can’t run and they probably can’t put up a fight. They’re looking at a vessel of monumental dimensions, probably by far the biggest they’ve ever seen. So they’re hoping we’ll go away. Or—”
“Or—?”
“That help will arrive.”
“You think they’ve been sending out a distress call?”
“Sure. If they can.”
“Do we have any way of intercepting it?”
“We don’t know enough about their equipment. If it’s hypercomm, which it probably would be, we’d have to be astronomically lucky to pick it up.”
Emily suggested they try the radio again.
“Why would it be any more likely to work this time?” asked Tripley.
“They’ve had time to see we mean no harm. They may feel more willing to take a chance now.”
Kane directed the AI to begin sen
ding, counting to four.
“I never considered the possibility,” said Tripley, “that anything like this could happen. We always assumed that, in the event of contact with celestials, they’d be just like us, curious, anxious to communicate, amicable.”
A new tone sounded in the speaker.
A blip.
And then a pair of blips.
And then three.
“Coming from the turtle,” said Kane.
Four.
And five.
Tripley banged a big hand down on the console.
They continued counting through to eight.
Joy reigned. They pumped fists, embraced, shook hands. And there were a few tears.
“My God, they’re really there,” said Tripley.
“Are we getting this?” Emily asked Kane. “For the log?”
The captain looked directly at the imager. “Yes,” he said. “They’ll be watching this in classrooms a thousand years from now.”
Tripley broke out four glasses and a bottle of wine.
And they got another blip.
Then a pair.
“They’re counting again,” said Tripley.
Three. Five.
Eight.
They looked at one another, waiting.
“Eight,” said Tripley. “What comes after eight? They’re waiting for an answer.”
Emily shrugged. “Thirteen,” she said.
“How do you figure?”
“Each number is the total of the two preceding.”
“That’s good enough for me,” said Tripley. He switched the transmitter to manual and tapped out the response.
The signals came again: One, two, three, five, seven.
“Primes,” said Emily.
Tripley grinned, enjoying the game immensely. “Eleven,” he said.
Emily stood near the window, looking out at the tiny craft. “I think it’s time for a visual.”
Tripley agreed. “Good. But what do we show them?”
“What are they most curious about?”
“Us,” said Yoshi.
“Yes.” Tripley was beaming. “Let’s have someone say hello. One of the women—”
“Why one of the women?” asked Emily. “I think everybody should get on the circuit. Let them see what we’ve got.”
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