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Chapter 20

"Endeavor reports that they've corrected their drive stability problem and are proceeding toward rendezvous at Argus, Captain. Their ETA, eighteen hours after Columbia's."

Chandra Burtak turned to her com-officer. "Do they still have their shadow?"

"Still there."

"Are you still hailing our own shadow?"

"Affirmative. Still no response."

Chandra nodded, watching the holo-display where colored arcs traced out the anticipated flight paths of the colony ships toward rendezvous. The three ships had emerged from FTL hundreds of millions of kilometers apart, and it had taken the better part of a day to locate one another and sort out the status of the fleet. Right now, near each ship, one or more blue-green flecks indicated the presence of an unidentified companion. Circling the symbol for the planet Argus was another blue-green point, and Chandra wondered if there were still more that they hadn't yet seen.

She gazed into the holo-image, trying helplessly to extract information that was not there. Who are you, and why are you here?

"Captain?"

She turned to First Officer Holloway. "Yes?"

"Scout ship ready for launch."

Chandra nodded, thinking, I hope this isn't good-bye. "Permission to launch. Tell them good luck."

Holloway closed her eyes for a second, then opened them again. "Scout is away."

Chandra acknowledged with a flick of her eyebrows. She watched the scout's progress in the display for a few minutes, then announced, "Captain entering hard-rap. Lisa, you have the con." Holloway nodded. Stepping up to her station, Chandra took a breath and touched a switch. The rap-field coalesced around her, and she shifted her thoughts down into the sea of gnostic awareness. [Aggie?]

[Hello, Captain.]

[Show me our shadow, please.]

The AI responded with the long-range imagery—coded for inferences and levels of uncertainty—of the two objects that were now paralleling Aleph's course. The resolution was poor. To Chandra they looked more like pieces of driftwood than spaceships, full of asymmetrical curves and appendages. Analysis Group had made little progress in deciphering the meanings of their shapes. They appeared to change over time, as though they were living, growing things, or as though mechanisms within them were constantly shaping and rebuilding. The scout, she hoped, would return some clearer images.

[Aggie. What do you think? Did they originate in this system?]

There was a momentary silence. Then the AI said, [I see no indications to support a hypothesis of their originating here. However, the data remain sparse.]

[How about stardrive activity?]

[No evidence. But the question presumes a similarity between our stardrive and theirs.]

[Well, dammit, Aggie—] Chandra caught herself knotting her fists. Calm down now. She knew perfectly well what the AI was capable of and what it wasn't, and there was no point in asking it to be clairvoyant. [Just keep working on it,] she murmured.

She remained in rap, scanning the incoming telemetry from the scout. It was too early for anything useful to be coming in, so she turned her attention inward to strategic planning. Security was already at work trying to improve the ship's defenses—not that they had any reason to suppose that their company was hostile, but neither could they assume that it was friendly. Still, there was only so much that could be done. The fleet was not heavily armed; they had not been expecting to meet another space-faring race here—friendly or otherwise—and it was clear that in any sort of armed confrontation, the fleet would be in trouble. She had Aggie working overtime culling historical, anthropological, psychological, and linguistic banks in an effort to develop diplomatic enhancements. But what was the point, if their visitors refused to communicate?

Chandra could only hope for the best and prepare for the worst. And to do that, she was going to need help, which was why she had called for a series of department briefings, starting at 1300 hours . . .

 

* * *

 

Tony DeWeiler found Mung holding a perch for him high in the hemisphere auditorium, just as the meeting was getting under way. "Thanks," he whispered, floating through a jam of people to the perch. "Have I missed anything?" He twisted in midair, and a few kilos of pseudograv pulled him neatly into a seat. He peered about the auditorium in wonder. He hadn't seen the place this crowded since the day they'd left Earth orbit, and never had he seen so much nervous excitement.

"The captain is about to speak," Mung murmured.

Tony blinked, looking at the podium at the focal point of the auditorium. He hadn't noticed Captain Burtak standing there in the soft spotlight with the chief of sciences. He hadn't seen the captain in weeks, in fact, at least not in the flesh. Toward the end of FTL, she was rumored to have practically lived on the bridge. She was a slender, sinewy woman with a dark Indarab complexion and black hair tightly coiled and pinned. When she cleared her throat to speak, the murmur of the gathered scientists subsided. The last few arrivals found perches or places to hang.

"Thank you," she said graciously. "I won't take up much of your time, and I'll try not to repeat what you already know. As I speak, we are still being shadowed, and there has been no response to any of our signals. We still know next to nothing about the ships or their occupants, and although we hope, obviously, that the scout will bring back data, we can't sit idly by waiting for it. We need to start planning now for a range of contingencies."

She paused and scanned the audience that half-surrounded her in the hollow hemisphere. "Ladies and gentlemen, I don't like operating in the dark—none of us do. We all understand that, as a first contact, this could be a terribly important encounter; and that puts a great responsibility on us for all of humankind. But first and foremost, we need to know what this means to our mission, which is to settle a world. We came expecting to find an empty solar system; that is what the probes told us. If that was ever true, it is no longer.

"We don't know if they are friendly or unfriendly. We don't know if we can communicate with them, or if we'll have any values in common with them if we do. We have no idea what they are thinking about us. In short, we don't know if our mission is in jeopardy, or what to do about it if it is. And that's why I need, not just answers, but alternatives. I need suggestions for alternate means of communication. I need assistance in judging their intent, whether friendly or hostile."

Tony took a breath as a realization popped into his mind.

"And I need recommendations for either eventuality—including how best to defend ourselves if that should prove necessary." The captain cleared her throat delicately.

Tony closed his eyes, thinking. It was just possible . . .

"Debate among yourselves. Present your findings to me through your department heads . . ."

. . . if he and Mung accelerated their testing . . .

". . . this is not a military vessel, but it might have to become one. Your lives and the lives of others may depend upon your cooperation . . ."

Tony scarcely heard the captain's final remarks. He took out his notepad and typed a message. He nudged Mung and handed him the pad. "Nobblies could be USEFUL. What do you think—go public to the captain?"

Mung was dividing his attention, still trying to listen to the captain; but he took the pad, frowned, and typed, "More tests needed, yes?"

Tony grunted silently. Mung was right, technically—the nobblies and their programming were far from perfect—but the captain's words about needing a way to judge the aliens echoed in his mind. If his intuition was correct, their little project might have to prove itself sooner than they had imagined.

 

* * *

 

There were few words on the bridge as the scene was played out in the display-holos. The scout was five thousand kilometers from the alien and closing. The alien made no response to the scout's hailing.

The alien ship looked more and more like a growing thing as the latest images came back to Aleph. Several features on its surface had been observed to change and twist, with movements like a time-lapse image of a growing plant. There were blisters on its hull, and more blisters at the ends of bumps and stalks. They looked like eyes; probably they were sensor-ports. A similar craft was visible at a greater distance. Chandra was hoping for some cross-sectional scans soon.

The rap-field rippled, deepening the connection. Aggie spoke. [Captain, indications of energy buildup in the nearer alien craft.]

Chandra's pulse quickened. [Propulsion or weapons?]

[Attempting to analyze,] the AI said. [I'm conferring with the scout gnosys now.]

[Get me voice from the scout.]

There was a movement near Chandra, blurred by the field. "Captain?" The field dimmed. Lisa Holloway was pointing to one of the side displays. "We've got a change in the status of one of Endeavor's shadows. It's pulling away."

Chandra called to the com-station, "Are you in contact with Endeavor?"

"Yes, Captain. They report that they have taken no action and do not know why the alien has changed course. It appears to be moving before them toward Argus."

So their friends were going to lead the way. To welcome them? Or to defend the planet against . . . intruders?

"Captain! Report from scout—"

The field was already rippling back around Chandra, immersing her in the data flow from the scout and the voice of the scout com-officer. [Something happening here, Aleph—] An image of the alien vessel leaped back into her mind as the voice cut off—and then things happened quickly: an unfocused blaze of light as something stunned the scout's sensors; then, through the distortion, as though in a shadow-and-light show, two cones of brilliance erupting against the shadow, and the two alien craft dwindling.

Holloway's voice pierced the field. "We're losing them from the screen."

[Com, do you still have the scout?]

[Aye—]

[Still here, Captain,] answered the scout's com.

[Was that an attack?] Chandra demanded.

The distant voice hesitated. [Unknown. We have sensor damage, and our propulsion system took a jolt. Still checking—] Chandra held her breath. [No apparent structural damage,] the voice continued. [And no injuries.]

Chandra began breathing again. At the periphery of her awareness, Analysis Group was working with Aggie to form conclusions. Chandra had already drawn hers: the alien had seen as much of the human ship as it cared to, and it didn't want the humans seeing any more of it, or them. The implications were troubling, to say the least.

She took a breath. [Agnes, at your earliest convenience, I'd like to start reviewing your progress on the diplomatic enhancements.]

[Of course, Captain,] said the AI.

[I also want a log summary placed on a sentry unit. Prepare to leave it out here, in solar orbit.]

[The distance from Argus will diminish the probability of its ever being found, even with a beacon—]

[But will improve its chances of surviving . . .]

She was interrupted by a call from the First Officer. "Captain, do you have instructions for the scout crew?"

The field evaporated, and Chandra scanned the visuals. Lisa Holloway was gazing at her expectantly. There was a palpable air of frustration about the bridge. The display-holo showed the scout alone against the emptiness of space.

Chandra swallowed her own feelings of disappointment. "Bring them in," she said quietly. "And continue on course to Argus."

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