He made an uncertain gesture. "That's hard to say."
"Wouldn't it be neat if there were?"
He swallowed and stroked her hair back, studying her face, loving and envying the innocence in those eyes. "Yes, honey, I suppose it would be. I suppose it would be, at that." He beckoned to Mary to come in and join them, and then he gently but firmly steered the conversation onto another topic.
* * *
"There won't be any public response from here, as far as I know," Joe Kelly said. "Whatever he's onto, he hasn't crossed into classified territory, as far as we're concerned." He jotted a note, and glanced back up at Jonders. "That's all you said to him? To contact the information office?"
"That's right. I meant to call you, but it slipped my mind in all the confusion," Jonders answered.
"Well, let me know if he contacts you again. We can't forbid him, but we can try to discourage him."
Jonders nodded and returned to his office. It seemed as though last night's newscast was being taken with equanimity here; the assumption seemed to be that the best way to deal with the reporter was to ignore him. Later in the day, however, when Jonders walked into the transmission center for a scheduled link with
Father Sky
, he saw Kelly again. The security chief was standing in the doorway of the engineering booth, talking with a tall, dark-haired man in a military uniform. Jonders did not approach them, but went straight to his console to check over his control settings. A few moments later, he felt a touch at his elbow. It was Kelly.
"No time to introduce you right now, but he's from Space Services Intelligence, here on orders from the Oversight Committee," Kelly said. "Name's Delarizzo." Jonders followed Kelly's glance. The uniformed stranger was walking away from the engineering section, a cup of coffee in his hand. "He'll be here a while, observing, checking over security procedures. Advising, and so on."
Jonders looked at Kelly. "Advising?"
"Well." Kelly pursed his lips. "He doesn't have carte blanche. On the other hand, Marshall's orders are to cooperate with him."
"He's with the military," Jonders said. "Does that mean we do whatever he says?"
Kelly shrugged. "Within the bounds of reason. It's all a bit hazy at the moment." Jonders grunted, snapping three toggle switches in sequence, much harder than was necessary. "He won't interfere," Kelly reassured him, with a clap on the shoulder. "He's an observer and an advisor. Now I'll get out of your hair and let you work."
Jonders nodded, and closed his eyes for a moment to quiet his thoughts, before lifting the linkup helmet onto his head. He tried to put the matter out of his mind, but his last thought before launching himself into swirling darkness was a vision of Delarizzo sipping his coffee and watching Jonders, his arm moving with smooth, military precision as he lifted the steaming cup to his lips.
The radar and optical images had grown stronger with the passage of time, but still displayed the shimmering quality which stumped even Homebase's technical experts. Worse still, Mozy and Kadin couldn't for the life of them get an accurate fix on the object's flightpath. The most painstaking measurements produced course projections that invariably diverged from later observations of the object's position and velocity—a situation that forced them to continually correct their own course, in an effort to match orbits.
Particularly annoying to Kadin was their inability to trace the problem to any defect in their own instruments. Mozy had already given up trying. (Maybe it's not a malfunction at all,) she said. (Maybe that's what it's actually doing.)
(Perhaps,) Kadin said. (But we've seen no propulsion activity or exhaust, and no mechanism I know of would cause that kind of image-smearing.)
(It
is
an alien spacecraft, after all.)
(Well, that's the real question,) Kadin said. (I mean, perhaps we're lunatic to expect it to behave according to our assumptions.)
(I'm not sure
lunatic
is the right word.)
(You know what I m—)
(ANALYSIS CAN-, CANNOT BE PERFORMED EXCEPT IN CONTEXT OF KNOWN PARADIGMS,) Mother Program interjected.
(The paradigm may have to be changed,) Kadin said. (Even the most fundamental of assumptions must be discarded when they prove contrary to observation. A paradigm can only explain reality; it cannot command reality's obedience.)
Mozy offered no further opinion; it all seemed rather theoretical to her. She silently continued making her course corrections as they closed on the speck that was the alien spacecraft.
* * *
As the hours passed, Mozy focused on piloting and translating, leaving other worries to Kadin. Her linguistic skills were improving, unlike Mother Program's. Several tentative translations indicated that they were being welcomed to match orbits with the alien craft. There were no clues in the messages to the peculiar movement of the alien ship; but they would be rendezvousing in the next twenty-four hours, and presumably they'd have learned something by then.
If they lasted that long. Mother Program's navigational functions were degrading rapidly. There was some discussion with Homebase about the possibility of a "virus" contamination in the programming that could be causing a progressive breakdown, but there was nothing for Mozy to do about it, except to keep flying. She was far too busy now to maintain an image of a body or a ship's bridge. She
was
the ship.
Flying, walking, or crawling, she felt as though she were battling against a growing vestibular disorientation. Not quite vertigo, but heading in that direction. Well . . . she might be staggering a bit, she thought, but she was damn straight going to get there, regardless.
* * *
It moved across the starfield, brightening steadily. Under optical magnification, it looked like a reddish brown stone, almost crystalline in appearance, yet pulsing fluidly like a drop of water in weightlessness.
The range was closing rapidly, and it was time to prepare for rendezvous and docking. The rendezvous programs were intact, for the moment—unused and undisturbed by the deterioration which was crippling the autopilot functions. Mozy feverishly studied the encapsulated approach and docking routines, hoping to learn their proper functions before they, too, began breaking down. Was she finding it harder to concentrate, or was it just her imagination, fed by overwork and stress? Did those terms apply anymore?
(David, I have to watch this thing like crazy, just to keep us on course.)
(You're doing fine. There'll be a medal in it for you if you can get us into an orbit around the thing. I have to finish working out our greeting protocols.)
(Orbit. Right. I'll do my best.)
* * *
It was close enough now to see clearly. It was not a spaceship at all. It was an asteroid—a scarred, pitted rock, more or less shaped like a potato, and dozens of times larger than the spaceship Mozy had been expecting. Its surface was indeterminate in color, though brighter and more reflective than Kadin could explain. One moment it appeared to be dusted with a silvery powder, and the next, it was all maroon browns and shadows.
The shimmering effect subsided as they approached. Mozy fired the maneuvering jets and steered into a parking orbit around the asteroid. She noticed that as the asteroid became clearer, other images, such as the stars, began to blur. Kadin noted this also, but offered no comment as he switched on instruments to probe the asteroid.
(What do we have, Mother?) Kadin said. (Mother Program?)
(TARGET OBJECT OBJECT ISSSSSS . . . IRON-NICKEL ASTEROID; ELONGATED SPHEROID IN SHAPE, ECCENTRICITY 0.17; LENGTH, MAJOR AXIS, 1.2 KILOMETERS; LENGTH, MINOR AXIS . . .)
(Yes, yes, but what about the honeycombs, and the funny effects we've been seeing?)
(ESTIMATE TWO-THIRDS OF VOLUME NON-SOLID. NOT SOLID. ANOMALOUS EFFECTS NO LONGER OBSERVABLE; HOWEVER, UNCERTAINTY LEVELS IN THAT REGARD ARE HIGH. MASS-DENSITY READINGS INCONSIS-, INCONSISTENT WITH KNOWN MATERIALS AND OBSERVED SOLID VOLUMES. PLEASE PROVIDE NEW . . . NEW . . .)
(Go on.)
(PLEASE PROVIDE NEW ASSUMPTION SET FOR ANALYSIS.)
(Um . . . yes. A little later, perhaps,) Kadin said. (You keep working on it. Mozy, I'm scanning for fixtures, windows, instruments, propulsion unit, anything like that. Can you go on autopilot for a while? I think your vision is more acute.)
(We're sharing the same eyes. How—?)
(I don't mean your eyes. I mean your visual perception.)
(Oh. Well . . . all right. As long as we're in an unpowered orbit.) Mozy released the override, and took a look around.
On first impression, it was terribly lonely out here beside this dimly lit asteroid, a quarter of a light-year from home. Sunlight was just bright starlight at this distance. Still, with enhancement, she could easily view the asteroid's surface rolling beneath them as they orbited. Had she thought before that it looked like a fluid crystal? Now, it just looked like normal, well-behaved rock, doing nothing out of the ordinary. If it was honeycombed as Mother Program said, then someone or something must be inside. You wouldn't know it from the outside, though. It looked as natural as the day it congealed out of the primordial dust—no visible markings or signs of construction—and no emissions of hard radiation.
But how, she wondered, does it move?
(Mozy,) Kadin said, in what was almost a drawl, (The mass of this thing is about right for a solid asteroid. But it's not solid, it's hollowed out. I think maybe Homebase is in for a few surprises.)
(Shall we tell them now?)
* * *
Jonders's image was a hash of snow. Something was garbling the signal, and they thought they knew what it was. (I suspect that the shimmering we observed is a field effect surrounding the asteroid,) Kadin was saying. (We're on the inside of the field now, so when our transmission beams pass through the boundary, they get thrown slightly out of phase. It ought to be possible to compensate.)
(Did you measure the field as you passed through?) Jonders asked.
(No.)
(Oh.) Jonders sounded disappointed. (Well, we'll work on it.)
While Kadin reviewed the situation with Homebase, Mozy turned to other matters. A signal was coming in from the asteroid.
She listened intently to the whee'ing and warbling, and worried over their meanings. By the time she was ready with a translation, Jonders was gone, and Kadin was waiting impatiently. She compared her version to that of the translator program. Its version read: (TRAVELLED PATH LAND GO TO PEOPLES MEET.) Hers read: (IF YOU WISH FOR A MEETING WITH US, FELLOW TRAVELERS, PLEASE LAND YOUR CRAFT AND BE WELCOME.)
(Well,) Kadin said, (that's encouraging.)
(Shall we land?)
(We'll have to wait a bit.)
(Why?)
(Homebase says to remain in parking orbit and continue making observations.)
(Why?)
(They're waiting for Hathorne to arrive at the Center, to take authority for the go/no-go decision.)
(Go/no-go decision?)
(Right.)
(We came a quarter of a light-year to orbit here and wait,) Mozy said.
(Right.)
(Well, that answers one question.)
(What's that?)
(We're definitely in the army now.)
(Yes, ma'am,) said Kadin.
* * *
The spacecraft bucked, and began tumbling. Two attitude control jets were popping off erratically. Mozy quickly shut them down. As she was preparing to stop the spin, a maneuvering jet went off. (What's happening?) Kadin asked.
(Son of a bitch.) Mozy damped the jet and deactivated the automatic control. Now the orbit was going to be screwed up.
(Have you got a handle on it?) Kadin said.
(I've got it, I've got it,) she snapped. (Nav-control is gone. The rendezvous programs are starting to sizzle, too.) She measured the orbit. They were moving closer to the asteroid.
(How bad is it, Mother Program?) Kadin said.
He had to ask three times, before he got an answer. Then: (NAVIGATION CAPACITY IMPAIRED 73 PERCENT IN ATTITUDE AND MANEUVERING CONTROL, AND MAIN DRIVE STEERING. 82 PERCENT FUNCTION REMAINING IN RANGING, EE& DYNAMICCC DOCKLNG . . . .)
(Bad,) Mozy said. (And getting worse.)
(When will this start affecting
us?
) Kadin wondered aloud.
(So far, it's mainly in the autonomic processing circuitry.)
(But Mother Program—)
(Yes. If it's hitting her, it will hit us, eventually.) She didn't want to think about that too deeply right now. That had to do with mortality. Dying slowly.
(Our effective time could be limited.)
(I recommend landing now.)
(Homebase won't be ready for almost a day,) Kadin said.
(We'll never hold it together that long. I need computer backup for the landing. I can reroute some of the processing, but if the function keeps degrading . . .)
(Can't we compensate?)
(How would I know? I've never landed one of these things before. It won't do any good for us to wait in orbit like good boys and girls, if we crash going in.) She made some new calculations; they were swinging in an elongated loop around the asteroid. If she didn't do
something
to correct it, they would crash soon, anyway. (I'd say we have to either land, or get some distance. Maybe a lot of distance. We may not get back for another chance, though.)
Kadin seemed lost in thought. Finally he said, (I can call Homebase in sixty-five minutes. Can we hold on that long?)
(I don't know.) Mozy was recircuiting, checking functions. (It's going downhill fast.)
(Can you make it now? Right now?) Kadin said.
She scanned, estimating. (Yes. I think so. Yes.)
Kadin hesitated for one second, then said, (The midsection of the asteroid along the longer axis. Take her down.)
(Aye.) Mozy computed, then with great care, fired a braking burn. At first, nothing much seemed to happen. Then the asteroid began to turn more slowly beneath them, and then not at all, and it loomed steadily larger in the sky as they dropped toward it, and Mozy waited, steadying herself, timing for the correct moment to fire the landing rockets.