Dark as Day cai-2

by Charles Sheffield

  He was ignored as the other went on, “I will not say welcome to Pandora, since that would be gross insincerity on my part. I will, however, ask if you have dined.”

  Alex hadn’t eaten, nor did he particularly want to; but since this seemed like an unexpected attempt at politeness, he shook his head and said, “I didn’t eat.”

  “Nor did I.” The other man threw back the cowl, to reveal a round shaven head. “I am, of course, Rustum Battachariya, and you of course are Alex Ligon. You may find it easier to call me Bat, though this should not be presumed to indicate any desire for a closeness of relationship between us. And when I invite you to share my afternoon repast, it is only because a failure to do so would display a churlish lack of civility and hospitality on my part.”

  He led the way toward the far end of the room. Alex, who wondered if he had understood what the other was saying — it sounded, improbably, like he was inviting Alex to eat lunch — followed close behind. He could not help glancing from side to side as they went. The artifacts lining the walls or standing mounted on the floor formed a bizarre collection. None was new, many seemed from a much earlier generation of technology. Some bore the marks of fire, great force, or heavy impact.

  Rustum Battachariya must have had eyes in the back of his head, because without turning he asked, “Are you perhaps interested in relics of the Great War?”

  “Not particularly.” Alex actually had no interest at all in the Great War.

  “Hmmph.”

  They proceeded in silence to the end of the room, then around an opening in a wall partition that did not run all the way to the ceiling. It led into a kitchen as elaborate as any that Alex had ever seen. The equipment included pots and pans big enough to serve a dozen people, although only two chairs stood by the solidly-built table. As an additional feature — odd for any kitchen — a small communications center was built into the wall next to one of the chain. The display was turned on, but offered only white noise.

  As they entered, as though greeting their arrival, the screen became a flickering mosaic of colors and a woman’s calm voice said, “Confirmation of the Masters’ conference call, to take place within one hour. The purpose is to finalize the Beston agreement with the Puzzle Network.”

  Bat scowled. “Noted and accepted.” He saw Alex’s questioning look. “That channel is specifically for Puzzle Network interactions. Is it possible that you are interested in, or perhaps even a member of, the Puzzle Network?”

  “No, I’m not a member.” Alex, convinced that another “Hmmph” was on its way, added, “I was very much into the Puzzle Network when I was younger, and I thought I had a chance to reach the Master level.”

  “But you were unsuccessful?”

  “Not exactly. My family didn’t think it was the sort of thing I should be interested in. My mother put a lot of pressure on me to give it up.”

  “Ah. The problem of parents.” The round black head nodded. “I too had such difficulties, until we parted company when I was a teenager.”

  “You left home?”

  “To be rather more accurate, they threw me out. My parents, like yours, considered my level of interest in the Puzzle Network inordinate and inappropriate.” Bat waved a fat hand toward one of the chairs. “Please be seated. Few things in the universe must be delivered precisely on time, but a perfect souffle is one of them.”

  Alex sat down with no great expectations. The other man could clearly put away a mountain of food, and from the look of him he often did, but quantity was no guide to quality. And Alex had eaten meals prepared by the best chefs in the System. Prosper Ligon had no interest in food, but the rest of the family insisted on the highest quality of cuisine.

  Bat quickly produced from half a dozen different ovens a giant souffle, three different cooked vegetables, five sauces, and a loaf of bread which he sliced with amazing speed and dexterity. Alex filled his plate, began to eat, and after a few moments stared at his companion. He shook his head. “This is sensational. I think it’s the best food I’ve ever had.”

  “Probably.” Bat was tasting carefully, a frown on his pudgy face. “It is better than average. I feel, however, that I was perhaps a trifle heavy-handed with the tarragon.”

  Alex didn’t know if he was supposed to agree or disagree. He decided that it was safer to eat in silence. So far they had managed to agree on nothing except the problem of having parents. Rustum Battachariya also showed no inclination to conversation, eating steadily and thoughtfully and in quantities that established a need for outsized cooking utensils.

  Finally Bat pushed away his plate, sighed, and said to Alex, “We have dined together, which will perhaps ensure a degree of civility in what follows. Or perhaps not. Let me be frank. I agreed to meet with you for one reason only: I was warned that should I refuse to do so, strong tactics might be used against me. Specifically, I was warned of physical violence or even murder. What is your reaction to such warnings?”

  “They are absolute nonsense. I would never consider any sort of threat.”

  “That is gratifying to hear. Are you confident that you speak for your whole family? If so, this meeting may be concluded at once, and we can return to our respective interests.”

  Alex was on the spot. If he was confident of anything, it was that he could not speak for the whole family. At last he said, “I think it might be a good idea if you and I were to continue our discussion.”

  “Very well. Let us do so. But I roust ask, on what basis? You would like me to give up or share my lease on Pandora. Why? And what inducements can you offer me, other than the not inconsiderable one that my life and physical well-being might otherwise be in jeopardy?”

  “I have the authority to offer you a considerable amount of money, far more than the cost of your lease on Pandora.”

  “Money?” Bat dismissed the word with a wave of his hand. “I happen to know that you work for the Outer System government, at a salary which is by the standards of your own family members ludicrously low. Am I supposed to believe that your own principal motive in life is money? If it is not, why should you assume that I am any different? Come, Mr. Ligon, if as a young man you approached Puzzle Network Master level, you cannot be without intelligence. Surely you can make an argument stronger than that?”

  Greedy and arrogant seemed to be about right. Alex had watched Bat put away enough food for six people, and now the haughty part was showing through. Alex remembered Kate’s words. He’s so fat and obstinate you can’t push him. You have to mow him some other way.

  Alex was saved from the need for immediate reply by the chime of the communications unit set in the wall by Bat’s left hand. The same woman’s voice said, “Conference will begin five minutes from now. Elect visual or voice-only mode.”

  Bat said, “Voice only,” and then to Alex, “I may require privacy for a brief period. This is a matter of great practical significance.”

  “That’s all right. I brought my programs and some recent results. I’ll have plenty to do — if you can provide computer access.”

  “Of course. You may have access to the Seine, or if you prefer it you may use the Keep, which is my wholly internal and protected resource. If the latter—”

  Bat’s next words were drowned out by a grating klaxon that sounded all through the Bat Cave. Alex felt a series of heavy vibrations, carried through the floor.

  As the klaxon ended, the woman’s voice spoke again. “We are registering interference on all incoming communication channels. A foreign body which offers no identification is approaching Pandora and seeking forcible entrance. All external access has been sealed. Habitat separation of the Bat Cave from outside influences is complete.”

  Alex saw Bat’s questioning glare and shook his head. “Not my doing. I have no idea what is happening.”

  “No more than do I. The timing of this is extraordinarily inconvenient. Unless, of course, it was expressly designed to interfere with my planned activities; My conference call is minutes away. Who
would attack Pandora, and why? This is not the best location to address those questions. Come.” Bat led the way, out of the kitchen and along the length of the Bat Cave.

  Alex, following, understood Bat’s final remark when they reached the other end of the great rectangular chamber. The communications center in the kitchen had been small and primitive. The one they approached was as elaborate as anything controlled by Ligon Industries.

  Bat plumped himself down on a massive padded chair. “We are, of course, in no danger of any kind. We are sealed and shielded, from both material and electromagnetic interference.” To Alex he seemed as much intrigued as annoyed as his fat fingers rippled over a console. “No ship in the solar system is capable of doing significant material damage to Pandora. Which leaves the question, who would want to come out here, jam all incoming signals, and try to blunder in? All system communications are monitored. A man would have to be an utter fool to imagine that such a situation could be maintained for any length of time, or that he and his vessel would not promptly be taken into custody.”

  A man would have to be an utter fool…

  Alex had no trouble thinking of a candidate. Hector! His cousin knew that the Ligon family wanted the current leaseholder out of Pandora. Lucy Mobarak had asked Hector to perform some great deed. Could his cousin be such an idiot as to think that threatening Rustum Battachariya on his home ground would qualify — at the very time when Alex himself was out here to negotiate?

  Easily. It was exactly the kind of pea-brained action, with never a thought as to consequences or what he himself would do next, that Hector had specialized in since he was old enough to walk. The irritating thing was that his cousin seemed able to get away with it. Aunts and uncles said, “Oh, that was Hector. You know what Hector’s like…” and left it at that.

  It wasn’t something that Alex could easily explain to anyone who was not part of the family. Instead, he said, “You mentioned that you feared aggressive action unless you came to some arrangement. Is the conference call that you’ll be missing connected with that?”

  Bat finished running his fingers over the console. “We’re totally blacked out so far as incoming or outgoing signals is concerned,” he said. “No estimates as to how long it will last.” And then, “My conference call is on a different subject entirely. Have you been following the recent news leaks about alien messages?”

  Aliens again! The word went into Alex like an electric shock. He’d had aliens on his mind for weeks. They formed part of some of the high-probability predicted futures, in strange and confusing ways. But Bat couldn’t possibly be referring to that.

  Alex said cautiously, “Well, I’ve seen a blurt or two about alien messages. But you don’t believe what you hear on those.”

  “Normally, you should not. In this case, however, the situation is rather different.” Bat composed himself on his chair. With head bowed forward and hands placed palms together in front of him, he reminded Alex of some ancient carved idol. Alex stood and fidgeted uncomfortably.

  “I believe that I can divulge this to you without compromising confidentiality,” Bat said at last. “The time for the official news release is very close. Puzzle Network members, as you are surely aware, do not seek or enjoy the company of others. We do not cluster, we do not congregate, we rarely make group decisions. However, some years ago it was agreed by the Master level players of the Network that there might be one notable exception. The ultimate challenge as a puzzle would surely be the deciphering of a signal from an extraterrestrial intelligence. For such a thing, we would sacrifice privacy and anonymity. We would work together, we would even, if necessary, meet.”

  “Here, in the Bat Cave?”

  “I think not.” Bat’s expression revealed his repugnance at the thought. “This is — or was once, and should be — my private retreat.”

  “But if you don’t meet here, you’d have to go somewhere else.”

  “Your statement, although undeniably true, is hardly a triumph of abstract deductive thought.”

  “Are you saying that the blurt is right — an alien message has really been received?”

  “Your skepticism matches my own feelings when I first heard rumors over the blurt outlets. I generally dismiss as preposterous any claims of alien signals. That remained my position for several recent weeks, as confirmation of the blurt failed to appear. Four days ago, the situation changed radically. A group of high-level Masters of the Puzzle Network, of which I happen to be one, were contacted by a man named Philip Beston. He is head of the Odin Station at Jovian L-5. Beston asserted an alien signal has in truth been received — he forbore to call it a message, since no interpretation has as yet been performed. However, he did offer convincing evidence of both signal detection and verification. Moreover, he invited selected senior members of the Puzzle Network to join his group in a high-level collaborative effort, aimed at taking the first steps to transform a meaningless data stream signal to an intelligible message. As you might imagine, such an invitation proved irresistible. Network members normally work in isolation. Now, for the first time ever, we would pool findings and conjectures. The purpose of today’s conference call was merely to finalize a venue for that cooperative effort, since close proximity seems essential.”

  “So you are going somewhere else.”

  “Since I decline to convert the Bat Cave into a hotel for Puzzle Network Masters, that unfortunately appears to be the case.”

  “Where?”

  “I cannot be certain. However, the probabilities strongly favor Ganymede. It forms a home to more than half the Puzzle Masters.”

  “I don’t believe this. I just came from Ganymede. You dragged me here, across half the solar system—”

  Bat’s eyebrows rose high on his rounded forehead. “Excuse me? I dragged you? I dragged no one. Your presence was imposed on me, by extreme pressure from your family and a senior member of the Ganymede government.”

  “You’re right. Forget I said that. I didn’t want to come, any more than you wanted me here. But why didn’t you tell me you might be on Ganymede in the near future?”

  “For the best of all possible reasons. At the time when your journey began, I had no idea of any of this. I was still an extreme skeptic on the subject of SETI messages. By the time that my doubts were dispelled by Philip Beston’s call and accompanying evidence, you were already on the way.”

  “I’m sorry.” Alex decided that blowing off steam at Bat would get neither of them anywhere. “I could have figured out the timing for myself. Assuming that you do go to Ganymede, how long will you be there?”

  “I have no idea. Some weeks, or perhaps even months. The desire to be here, surrounded by the creature comforts and privacy of my own home, is very large. At the same time, suppose that we make significant progress in deciphering a message from the stars. That is probably unrealistic optimism, but how could one then resist staying, at least through the initial phase of discovery. It is a true case of Buridan’s famous ass.”

  “I can see that.” Alex thanked whatever gods may be that he recognized the reference to Buridan’s donkey, starving to death because it was unable to choose between two equal bundles of hay. Cousin Hector would no doubt have said that he didn’t know this woman, Buridan, but from the sound of her he’d like to meet her.

  But Alex saw a rare opportunity to come out a hero with his own family. “You are going to be away from Pandora for at least several weeks. In your absence, it would be easy for Ligon Industries to set up their operations center for helium-three mining from Saturn’s atmosphere at the other end of Pandora — so far away, you would never be aware of its presence. And the whole Starseed-Two project won’t be of long duration — it can’t be, without substantial penalty clauses. If we guaranteed that the installation would be done in your absence, with guarantees that nothing would affect the Bat Cave…”

  Bat nodded, and for one moment Alex dared to hope they might have a deal. But then Bat said, “It is premature for any su
ch discussion. I do not yet know where the Puzzle Masters will assemble, and already you have me off on Ganymede. Perhaps something can be arranged — if and when my own movements are more defined.” He waved a slab-like hand, dismissing the subject. “Enough of that speculation. I have explained to you the reason for my interest in aliens. What is the basis for your own? — I sensed more enthusiasm for that topic than for any other subject we have mentioned.”

  Alex shook his head. “My interest is complicated and relates to my work on predictive models. It would take time and computer access to explain.”

  “Time, apparently, is available in ample measure.” Bat waved his hand again, this time at the displays which showed all external communications still blocked. “Why are you interested in aliens? And why might the computers be relevant?”

  Alex was hesitant at first. How much, if anything, did the other know of computer modeling? He began slowly, giving the sort of general explanation that would suffice for upper management, until Bat scowled and said, “Details, please, root and branch. Generality and vagueness are the refuge of scoundrels, politicians and bureaucrats.”

  Put that way…

  Alex began to describe his work at a deeper level, encouraged by Bat’s close attention and occasional nods. When he reached the tricky subject of the predicted extinction of humanity, and the dependence of that on exogenous variables, Bat blinked and nodded.

  “I, too, have had intimations of approaching catastrophe throughout the solar system. The evidence I have seen is tenuous, but it suggests disaster much closer than a century away. Did your program take account of the possible effect of new weapons left over from the Great War?”

  Alex shook his head. “I didn’t include them, because I have never heard of any such thing.”

  “Very well. There are two other anomalous factors that you might wish to take into consideration. First, a small group of genetically modified humans was created as a by-product of the Great War. So far as I know, they live quiet and productive lives, but their possible impact on future events cannot be discounted.”