We did the
chores and split a fluffy omelet filled with farm cheese, fresh-brewed
coffee and bacon from the freezer. Bill cooked pretty damn well
for a,— I don't know. What do you call a man who has betrothed
himself to another man? Newlywed? Naw, that's too
simplistic; too accepting of the other sides way of looking at
things; however, that's almost what we done,— sort of,— on
the porch the night before. We almost married ourselves, not
before the law, but before God; which, I reckon, is a lot higher
authority than the Kansas legislature. I wish we could do it for
real,— marry, I mean. Not to piss off all the people who
might hate us, but to affirm our commitment to all folks before God, to
absorb the love and support of those who love us. Oh, well,— they
do it in Holland, according to the papers.
Church was the
usual. Bill sang in the choir at the eight o'clock service, his
bass voice clear and steady, not drowning anybody out, but combining
with the others' efforts to make magic in the soul. He sat with
me, Jerry and Elva for the main service at nine thirty. We don't
usually have a choir in the second service, because not all people can
take that much time from the farm for two services, and the second is
shortened to include only the Lord's Prayer, Apostle's Creed,
Communion, the Lesson and the Lord's Blessing. Reverend
Gottschalk had to get to Gove for the eleven o'clock second service, so
we never had to endure over-long Lessons, and Lord knows, there was
never a dearth of work,— Sundays included.
Elva invited us
for coffee and cake afterwards,— she makes applesauce cake that would
tempt Adam all over again, but we explained we had some things that
just had to be done at the shop before we started on Monday, and she
was all right with that. She understood the urgency I felt,— even
if it was about something else.
Jerry seemed
pretty alert, a lot better than the night before. Bill even
remarked on it as we left the front of the Church where we'd been
talking with Elva and Jerry, before we got to Bill's pickup.
"Your brother
Jerry's step had some spring to it," he mused. "He doesn't
seem so,— "
"I have taken
the liberty of making minor repairs," Groth said.
"Of what?"
Bill asked.
"Jerry's liver
and pancreas had unrestrained cellular growth,— Cancer you call
it. I altered one of the foods you ate last night so the
cancerous cells will be marked for attack by his body's own
defenses. They will die and be reabsorbed. It is a less
efficient way than the use of the optimizer. The process will
take several weeks, but he will be restored to full vigor."
"I appreciate
that, Groth. I really do." I had to say something to fight back
the wave of tears that threatened to overwhelm my defenses. My
voice broke, though. Bill took my hand and held it. He knew.
"He is important
to you,— " Groth answered, "therefore, he is important to
me."
"Are Rob and
Cory on their way?" Bill asked. I think he was just
asking to change the subject.
"No. They
are preparing a mid-day meal for the four of you. They will come
at one o'clock."
"You think of
everything," I said.
"Not
always," Groth said, "computers are as susceptible to error
as any sentient group. Besides, Cory is a very good cook, and
wants to show you his prowess. Rob wants to be part of
that. You all need to eat, and it is not yet time to devote
effort to food synthesis."
"Food
synthesis?" Bill asked.
"I am capable of
synthesizing almost any item of your food. This takes a very
small portion of processing power, but I prefer to concentrate on the
calculations, which are nearly complete."
We said little
more on the way to the hangar, although not apprehensive the spooks
were about. Groth said they were all in a meeting at the motel,
readying their plans for the next several days. The P.A. system
in their meeting room was connected to a P.C., through which Groth had
total access. Not to mention the phones, of course.
"When will they
try to get into the hangar?" I asked after I finished opening the
gate and got back into the Ram.
"They will
attempt to obtain a search warrant this afternoon at three, and will
serve it about an hour later."
"We won't be
done by then!" said Bill, "We have to stall them!"
"All the units
will be completed by three forty-six," Groth said. "There
should be an adequate window."
"And if they get
here before we've finished?"
"They will find
nothing," said Groth.
"How so?"
"There will be
nothing to find."
"That isn't a
particularly helpful answer, Groth," Bill said.
"You will
see," Groth said mysteriously. I think he was deliberately
obfuscating, trying to surprise us.
We were in the
optimizer a little before eleven, and shuttled units from the ship to
the drive at a a furious pace. After we had twelve in their
slots, I started soldering while Bill brought over more units.
Groth raised the drive a little, to make it easier for me to solder
without being bent over all the time, which may not have speeded up the
work, but certainly helped my back.
By the time Rob
and Cory arrived just after one with dinner, we'd already slotted in
thirty units, and I had done all but three of the solders. We
stripped off the clean-environ gloves and spent a minute or so in the
optimizer to get rid of sweat and fatigue.
We broke for
dinner, and I swear, that man Cory, can cook! He'd made a rich
beef and onion casserole,— not a stew,— because they wasn't any
vegetables, but with onions, garlic and beer. He cooked a mess of
home-made egg noodles, kept apart by a light tossing of butter and salt
& pepper, four green vegetables, fried green tomatoes, spinach and
mushroom salad, and a banana custard cream pie. We had to eat it
all, of course, and he made enough for a platoon.
Cory was beaming
as we devoured his meal, and blushed royally when we lavished
praise. Rob was as proud as a peacock. It was nice to
see. When we finished the pie, we quickly tossed the paper dishes
and stuff, and went back to work. We all donned gloves, and
plunged back into the work, but having fun, too. Rob did an
impersonation of a drunken ballet dancer at one point, while we were
waiting for another unit to come down the stairway. He had us all
in stitches. He's really quite a talented and warm guy,
underneath his hard, cold sneer he wears as armor sometimes.
By three, we had
all fifty-four units from the seventh ship installed, soldered, and two
of the remaining three came down the stairway at three fifteen.
Naturally, they were inside units, and took the longest to do. I
had to wait for Bill to do the surface neural hookups before I could do
the inside molecular fusing. I was just finishing the second one
when Groth announced our visitors.
"There are two
sheriff's patrol cars and two FBI vans approaching from the
North. They will be in front of the shop door at four-twelve,—
sixteen minutes from now."
"Is the last
unit ready yet?" Bill asked.
"It
arrives," Groth replied, and Rob and Cory ran to fetch it, like
two sprites of white light, almost skipping. It was already most
of the way down the stairway.
Bill and I
waited inside the drive. Of course, the last card was an inside
unit, just to keep things complicated, but quickly slotted it into
position. While Bill was doing the hookups, Rob and Cory stripped
off their gloves and threw them on the stairway, then went back to the
shop to work on the IH in the second bay. I stood poised with the
soldering frame ready to slide into position as soon as he was done.
Bill finished
the hookups, and I jumped in front of the unit, sliding the frame over
the foot or so to line up with the half inch space between the new unit
and the left-hand companion, trying not to get rattled when Groth
announced the arrival at the front gate of the four vehicles.
They didn't bother to knock. They just cut the chain with heavy
bolt cutters and drove in.
"Stall
'em!" I hollered to Bill, as he threw his tools and gloves on the
stairway.
"Gotcha!"
he said, sprinting for the shop.
There were seven
solders to do on the last unit. I still had three to go when the
roll-back doors were shut by one of the lads, and the bolts on either
side thrown.
"Groth, tell me
when I gotta’ run," I said, as I slid the frame to the other side
of the unit, at the same time trying to line up the fifth weld.
"You need not
run," Groth said. "You will be cloaked as soon as you take
off your gloves. The hangar now appears empty, except for the
probe, the drive, the destabilizer and you."
"Tell me what's
happening!" I pressed the ‘clear’ button for the line-up, and the
ship. Groth made the final adjustments and did the spot sub
molecular weld. Two to go.
"The sheriff is
opening the shop door. Bill is asking to see the warrant."
I lined up the
next to last weld, tried to confirm, but was out of alignment and got
an ‘error’ reading on the screen. Barely able to keep calm, I
loosened the clamps and readjusted.
"The sheriff has
given Bill the warrant. The FBI is walking towards the hangar
door."
I pressed the
button, got the white light on ‘Clear.’ The penultimate weld was
done.
I moved the
frame up the inch or so for the last weld. Just as I heard the
bolt on the sliding doors being twisted.
The frame went
into position, and I fine-tuned the positioning with the lasers, just
as the right bolt on the doors to the shop slipped back. A shiver
went down my spine. Someone tried to open the doors without
taking the other bolt out, and I heard a curse. I pressed the
button, saw the tiny flash of the sub-molecule fusing. After the
white ‘clear’ lamp lit, I switched the frame to ‘off.’
"Take the frame
off," said Groth in a cool, steady voice.
I loosened the
toggles, and the frame came off in my hand.
I didn't even
see the drive outer ring move. One second it was there, the next
it disappeared. Right in the middle of the blink of an eye, it
had leapt up into position inside the ship. I looked up, and it
was there. No longer dull, but alive with ghostly blue-violet
light, rippling over the surface, thousands of points of white and
green and yellow flashes.
"The
gloves," Groth said, and they were off almost at once, despite
the wet of my arms, sucked along with the gravity platform and the
soldering frame, directly into the tube that stuck down from the ship,
the same one that ‘ate’ the defective units as they were
replaced. Then the destabilizer moved up into the hole it created
and was swallowed by it,— and the hole was gone. The ship was no
longer vulnerable. Only the probe was left,— the rusty old
jackhammer and a three foot cubic tool box were cloaked, however.
The connecting cable was also cloaked. The floor looked bare all
the way across the hangar.
The doors
opened, just after the light around me faded. Four burly men
appeared, guns drawn. All were wearing suits and ties, like
they'd just come from Mass or something. The men in uniform,
whether sheriffs or agents, walked directly towards me, looking to the
left and right, at the expanse of the hangar, up at the ceiling,
‘through’ the ship. They stopped maybe thirty feet from me.
"Do not
move," said Groth, "in close quarters, your moving presence
can be detected visually as a shimmer in the air. The cloak will
not stop a bullet if someone panics and fires at an imaginary ghost."
Now, ‘that’ was
not a good piece of news.
"Like I told
you," said one of the older sheriffs, "Andy was out here a
couple of days ago,— said they weren't no drug lab or growing field in
here. Andy's a good man, he don't make shit up."
"I want those
doors secured," said one of the suits, paying absolutely no
attention whatsoever to the sheriff, "Riley,— get the sealing
padlocks from the van,— do the front door."
"Yes,
Sir!" said the smallest, youngest suit.
"Do it!"
the first suit shouted, "Now!"
"Sir!" the
lackey shouted back. Must have been a recruit directly out of the
Marines’ induction graduating class. He took off in a trot for
the shop doors.
"Fox-glow, you
copy?" the first suit said.
"They have
personal radio devices," said Groth, "Another lackey has
been dispatched to lock the rear doors from the outside."
"What
next?" I asked. I don't know if I was asking myself or
Groth.
"Testing and
final alignments of the drive is under way. The process will take
no more than three hours. As soon as alignments are complete,
both ships will leave."
"Without
damaging anything? Anyone?"
"If
possible. There is no further threat to the ships' security, but
yours may be compromised, and that would not be desirable. If
necessary, I may have to permit some collateral damage."
"What does that
mean?"
"I may have to
simulate a very large natural gas explosion under the hangar,
destroying it completely and moving out under the cover of the
explosion. I can not guarantee there will be no casualties.
My first priority is the mission, but my second is to ensure your
safety, both short and long term."
"I don't want
anybody's hurt on my head, Groth."
"Explain."
"I don't want
anybody hurt just so I won't get hurt."
"And Bill?
Rob? Cory?" Groth said quietly.
"I,— I see your
point,— but try not to."
"Of course."
"I need to get
back into the shop, make an appearance, so I can keep on top of this."
"Walk directly
past them to the door. They are no longer alert. They feel
that this is all under control, that there is nothing here, it has been
a waste of their time. I am reinforcing their opinions."
I did as Groth
suggested. Not a soul paid the slightest attention to the faint
current of air, the swirl of a dust mote for no apparent reason.
When I got to the doorway, I rounded the corner so I was out of sight,
and asked Groth how I could control the cloak. In case I had to
disappear quickly. He wouldn't tell me, just turned it off.
I was visible again, back in the shop. Bill and the boys weren't
there, so I went outside. When I walked out the door, three suits
and four sheriffs were standing in a group around them, and several
spun around when I came into view.
"Where the hell
did you come from?" asked one of the suits.
"The can.
Who the heck are you?"
"F.B.I.
Who are you?"
"Graham
Baker. This is my garage. What can I do for you?"
"Got a fourth
subject," said another guy, I presume into a mike he had on his
collar or something. "Owner."
"Says he was in
the can. No, I didn't. Old guy, maybe sixty or sixty-five.
Yeah."
He looked at me
and said, "We have a warrant to search these premises for drugs,
drug paraphernalia, and stolen property. You have the right to
remain silent,— "
I got the full,
boring recitation of my rights. None of which would do me any
good at all, because they knew perfectly well, not only was I
completely clean of any drugs, but they weren't even looking for what
they said they were looking for. Anything I said about the real
reason they were here to search the hangar would very definitely be
held against me.
"Groth, are they
finding anything?"
"They have found
nothing. One of the brightest ones has sensed there is something
different about the hangar, but he’s not sure of what. I believe
he can somehow sense the slight pressure of the Plastri. I have
seen this ability before, in several dozen individuals. Most
curious. None of the others believe their search will produce any
result."
I was herded
towards Bill, Cory and Rob.
"Any idea what
this is all about, Boss?" Rob asked. He gave me a wink.
"Ya’eah, Mr.
Baker," said Bill. "Wassup?"
"Now you boys
jus' be patient," I drawled as hick as I knew how. "These
here fellahs gotta’ make it look like they's earning their money.
They'll jus' look 'round, find they's ain't no hippie stuff hereabouts,
and just mosey on out."
The leader of
the suits came out of the shop.
"Mr. Baker?"
"Ayuh?"
"Sorry if we're
disturbing you, Sir. My name is Terrance O'Donnell, of the
FBI. Have you had any indication of drug use or production
anywhere near these premises?"
"Naw."
"Seen any
strangers hanging around your hangar over the past couple of weeks?"
"Matter of fact,
I have," I said, "They was a fake Coca-Cola truck hanging
'round here this week, and they's been a passel a gangster-looking boys
driving around town in pairs in brand new city cars, last couple a’
days. Then they’s you,— I reckon you's kinda strange to these
here parts."
Mr. Terrance
O'Donnell was lacking in the sense of humor department.
"Not funny, Old
Man," he sort of spit out, "you know damn well those were
my vehicles."
"Naw, Sir,— I
didn’t? Humm,— your vehicles, ya’ say?"
"Tell me about
the aircraft you saw last week, the one that landed on the Ahmandsen
property."
"Well," I
started out pretty cautiously. I had to be sure the story I gave
him wouldn't conflict with the stories I'd given out before on the
sighting. "I seen this silvery fuselage lookin' like it was no
more'n maybe half a mile North a' Katy. Couldn't see no tail or
nothin' like wings on 'er, but I remember that plane what went down in
California what lost its tail, so's I figure maybe this 'uns the
same. I drives Jeep over to the old Ahmandsen spread, which is
where I figured the plane might be tryin' for, 'cause it done went past
this here airfield. I drove all over tarnation up there, but I
never seen no plane, or nothin,'— not even one a them weather balloons,
which is what I figure it must a’ been,— to just disappear and
all. Got myself fired on account a' it, I did."
"You notice
anything odd about the ground at all?"
"Like what?"
"Like a bowl
scooped out of the soil?
"Nope.
Warn't lookin' at the ground. Was lookin' fer a plane."
"This is a
pretty big bowl. Maybe a hundred fifty feet across, thirty feet
deep,— in hard clay."
"Nope.
Didn't see no bowl, not one foot, not a hundert foot. Heard 'bout
the kids' prank, though. Goldarn waste of time, you ask me."
"Any idea why
there's been some big power surges round about here?"
"Ayuh," I
said. "I just set me up my new tractor and farm garage in there,
like you sees. Lights, machines and tools is bound ta' run
up the 'lectric meter."
"I'm talking
about big surges, Mr. Baker. Like hundreds, even thousands of
kilowatts."
"We ain't got no
big factories round here," I said, slightly overplaying the
ignorant hick. "No big power lines, neither. Big surge like
that's more'n all of us could use all together with everythin' runnin'
at once. More'n KP&L kin deliver these parts, I reckon."
O'Donnell wasn't
even listening to me. Figured I was a dead end, know-nothing hick
mechanic. Which I guess I am, in a way.
"You use the
hangar for anything besides the garage in the side room?"
"I got a few
things stored. Mostly over the top of the shop," I
said. "An' if'n I get a harvester in, I gotta’ bring it through
the hangar to get it into the shop, on account of them front doors are
only ten feet tall, and the doors from the hangar into the shop are
eighteen foot."
"How many times
you use the hangar?"
"None, yet,— but
I gotta’ bring one in tomorrow mornin' from Ralph Dreeson." Of
course, Ralph knew nothing at all about this, but he'd cover for me, no
problem.
"Well, we ought
to be out of here by tonight. You don't mind if we bring in some
equipment for a couple of hours, do you?"
"Groth, what are
they up to?" I asked, a mild touch of incipient panic pushing at
my backside.
"Vacuum cleaner
to analyze particles on floor, electronic monitors to search for
electronic emissions, magnetic fields, electrical fields. All
quite primitive. I can manage all data so no suspicion is raised."
"What happens
when the vacuum runs into the probe."
"We will move
the probe itself. It will be directly under the power
distribution panel in the hangar, inside the rest room."
"When?"
"Before the
monitoring equipment gets here."
"No, I don't see
no problem,” I told him, “‘cept I gotta’ stay here until yer done, so's
I can lock up." I said to O'Donnell. "How long afore you
can get it here?"
"Ten
minutes," he said quickly, then spoke into the mike on his collar
thing, where a carnation would go for a wedding. "Andy, we're go
on the sweep."
He started to
say something to me, looking up at me with a little gleam in his
eye. "Mr. Baker, I,— "
He didn't finish
his sentence. Stopped right dead in mid-stream.
"That enough
time?" I asked Groth.
"When I give the
signal, Graham and Bill go into the hangar, set up the ladder to reach
the power box. Bill, catch the cable from the ship and run it up
the ladder to Graham, so he can staple the cable down the wall from the
power box," Groth said. "Bill, you pull the cable straight
down as far as the top of the partition in the toilet, then feed it
through the hole Rob will have drilled through. Rob, grab the
Makita portable drill on the first workbench, then the stool next to
the door to the toilet to drill a hole in the back corner of the room,
through the metal bar of the top partition support.
There is a bit
already in the in the drill that will suffice. Once the hole is
drilled, remove the bit from the chuck, and leave the bit in the hole
to allow Bill to find it more easily. Move the stool a foot away
from the wall, up against the stall door. Cory, you go to the
stairway and ferry the new probe into the toilet in the shop. It
weighs only one thousand pounds, but is on a grav platform. As
soon as it is in position in the corner directly in front of the stall,
Rob will take the cable end Bill feeds through the hole and plug it
into the probe. The probe will tighten the cable and attach
itself to the wall and floor, then absorb the grav platform. Take
the bit and reinstall it in the Makita chuck. You will both leave
the toilet, putting the stool and the Makita back and return to exactly
where you are right now. Your footprints will be visible to
you. Graham and Bill will put the ladder back against the wall
and come back to the exact spot where they are right now as soon as the
cable is fed through. Everybody got it?" Groth asked, like
a drill sergeant.
Nobody said "no."
O'Donnell was
looking right into my eye, but his gaze was lifeless.
"Go!" said
Groth.
Nobody forgot
what they were supposed to do. We worked together like a well
oiled clockwork. It went like Mission Impossible. The new
probe took exactly two minutes forty-two seconds to install. None
of the agents or sheriffs so much as batted an eye as we ran through
the shop and hangar. Just as we got back to the spots we were in,
there was a ‘thump’ as the probe fired into the earth, through the
concrete, and McDonnell was still looking up a little. I aligned
my eye with his.
"Switchover
complete." Groth said, "The old probe has been resorbed.
Good work, gentlemen!"
" . . . think
you should stay out of the hangar for a while." It was not a
suggestion.
"Can we at least
get a little work done in the shop while you do your spy thing? I
gotta’ pay these boys double time fer Sunday, and I gotta have the shop
ready for business tomorrow mornin," I said.
"Yeah, yeah, go
on," O'Donnell dismissed the ignorant hicks with a wave of his
hand.
While we
finished the two tractors, cleaned up the shop, and generally pretended
we weren't even slightly concerned or interested, they brought in what
looked like nothing more than a concrete floor washer/buffer and
another Coke truck with no coke on it. Groth assured us all
readings were completely normal, they would find nothing at all, even
though the instruments detected excess magnetic field,— they were
‘adjusted’ by Groth so the readings looked normal.
Rob lost two
teeth,— the top front ones. So did Cory. They just fell out
while they were talking. They both got a kick out of smiling at
the suits and sheriffs and playing corn-pone hicks, after Groth dropped
the upper visual part of their cloaks.
Finally, at
almost seven-thirty, the invaders packed up and left, having found
nothing. I got O'Donnell to at least take the padlock off the
front doors, so I could get Ralph's combine in. He was
disdainful, disgusted and according to Groth a little
disheartened. Tough.
"They left the
surveillance vehicle in front of the feed store on Katy," Groth
said, "It is no longer of importance. Please bring your
trucks into the hangar, underneath the ship. I am moving the ship
out in eight minutes. I want you all aboard. My promise
will be kept."
Bill and Rob
moved their trucks into the hangar, under the center of the ship, and I
opened the front hangar doors, then joined the others on the
stairway. There was a tense anticipation of an adventure about to
begin. We all felt it. We went on board, and spent a few
minutes in the optimizer. This time, Rob and Cory got the red
cloths, and most of the rest of their teeth came out. They also
both had new ones already jutting through, and said they felt no pain
at all. Groth said Bill and I felt the pain because we had bigger
teeth, more deeply rooted. I only half believed him. Mine
were about grown in, and Bill's were about two thirds done.
Beautiful,— they were just like my guy. I'm still in wonder every
time I chew something and feel no slippage at all.
Groth appeared
in a new doorway, next to where the one which went to the control room
appeared .
"I will prepare
a meal in the dining room for you," he said, "It will have
an observation window you can see out."
We followed him
as he walked down the corridor only a few yards, then through a doorway
into a very fancy room, wedge-shaped, with natural dark woods, cream
colored linen on a large table. There was just one table, right
up against a huge window looking out into the hangar. There was
no food or plates or anything visible. The window was twelve or
fourteen feet high, and maybe thirty feet long, bulging out, tinted so
darkly we could barely make out the lines of the hangar and the seventh
ship. The table was shaped oddly, as if an elongated diamond
shaped table had been cut, from corner to corner on the narrow width,
then two feet of the remaining end corner sliced off, so when the four
of us sat down in the fancy wooden chairs with seat pads, we could all
see and talk to each other as well as look out.
The window
wasn't made of glass. It didn't reflect light at all, but it was
smooth to the touch like glass.
"It is the hull,
made transparent to visible wavelengths of light," said
Groth. "It can not break or be penetrated by anything other than
a singularity or extremely powerful radiation of very short
wavelength. Please take your seats."
"Speaking of
singularities," I said, "what is the probability that the
ship would be hit by one?"
"One in several
thousand millions," said Groth.
"Thank you for
not calculating it to the fifth decimal point," Bill said,
"That can get really annoying."
"So the
probability that one singularity would strike two ships at once is
what?"
"One in,— ten to
the twenty-fourth power, or one in one septillion."
"And yet it
happened."
"Yes, there are
a number of events which have occurred during this mission that in
combination seem to defy probability. It is very disturbing, as
the probabilities of all events happening is as close to zero as I am
able to calculate, roughly one in one times ten to the thousand
millionth power."
"Such as?"
"That there is a
civilized sentient race, previously unknown, who has progressed from
hunter gatherer savagery to the use of computers in less than a few
thousand years, whereas no other race has done it in less than several
tens of million years. That we were less than half a parsec from
the system when that race developed its first critical fissionable
mass, just enough to register through the gravity well. That
there is not one, but four sentient races on a single planet.
That an extremely rapidly evolving race has been found at exactly one
moment before events make further galactic evolution predictably
impossible.
That we located
not one or two, but several tens of individuals capable of direct
communication with digitized intelligence, and that thirty-two of these
individuals have been found which are not only sufficiently genetically
endowed to provide a viable gene pool for their race, but are potential
willing participants in a revised mission. Each of these facts is
an independent condition that requires complete recalculation of the
mission. All together, these conditions, coupled with other
improbable events, have changed the mission entirely."
"Now
what?" asked Bill.
"I have promised
you answers and a tour," Groth said. "I will combine all
into one program. The ship is fully repaired, prepared, and I
will take the ships out now."
The window
became clear, not tinted, and we saw the interior of the hangar, the
seventh ship directly in front of and slightly below us. We were
in the ‘stern’ of our ‘ship.’ We watched as the funnel extended
straight out from around us through the open hangar doors, and we
watched spellbound as the other ship moved away from us, fading from
view, then floating out, the only connection the thin blue white energy
beam, which thickened and became much more intense as the ship cleared
the front of the hangar. The beam suddenly broke, disappeared,
and the other ship drifted out a few yards and disappeared into a
tableau of the barely visible horizon and the still Sun drenched sky
above, visible because the ship, our ship, moved to the mouth of the
hangar. The ship suddenly added red dots around its smaller
companion, and we watched it drift away a few hundred yards more,
hugging the ground, then stopping over the runway, swiveling around to
face East.
The funnel
suddenly winked out, and we were moving, too. There was no
sensation of motion. Nothing, not the slightest sound other than
my heart beating, rapidly. I wasn't breathing, I don't think.
"The seventh
ship broadcast sixteen megawatts of energy for one point three seconds
between clearance of the hangar doors and full cloak," said
Groth. "The ship will generate almost fifty-eight megawatts over
twenty-one seconds, as there is no further connection to the probe for
an energy sink. The heating of the ground by the passage of both
ships will be impossible to conceal. Probe converted."
"Converted?"
Cory asked before I could get my mouth open to ask the same thing.
"The functioning
components have been multiple fissioned into energy sunk into the probe
roots in the crust, leaving behind only hydrogen gas and carbon
dust. The roots will degrade to carbon and methane gas over the
next ten minutes, now that there is no further energy source. The
only remaining evidence of our occupation of the hangar will be the
empty and non-operational dispenser of condoms."
"Condoms!"
I said, "Condoms?"
"Oh,
yeah," said Cory. "I forgot to mention it. We don't
use them any more."
We all broke out
in relieved but slightly nervous laughter.
We broke out of
the hangar doors, and floated close to the seventh ship, then turned,
until we were looking back at the hangar, softly lit inside, with the
red flashing light on the top, massive and slightly gray against the
dark horizon. Then we tilted. Or the view tilted.
Down was still down to the floor. We were looking at the weeds
and old cracked asphalt. There was no shadow under the ship.
"Ooooh
shit." Rob said softly. "Here we go."
Bill grabbed at
my right hand, and I had Cory's right hand in my left, somehow.
There was no
sense of movement at all, but there was a slight vibration? And we were
catapulted up at incredible speed. It couldn't have taken more
than a second or two for us to be so high we could see not only Katy
and its surroundings, but Gove, Grainfield, the trace of the
Interstate, even Salina. In what seemed like no more than another
second, we could make out the lights of Chicago, then the East Coast, a
swath of pale light against the black of the ocean. We were
headed East Southeast.
"I'm gonna
barf," Rob whispered.
"No," said
Groth. "We are now outside the atmosphere. There is no
further threat to the ships."
"Thanks,"
said Rob. Groth had quickly tended his patient.
We could see the
curve of the earth to the West, as the Sun first rose with our ascent,
then fell rapidly as we moved to the East.
The seventh ship
was to our right, slightly behind us, so we could see almost two thirds
of its length when it winked back into the visible. Sunrise was
instantaneous, this time from behind us, in front of the ship.
The other ship was briefly lit in silver, then dimmed to a flat black,
barely visible where it was above the globe of Earth.
We drew away,
probably accelerating faster, but the Earth was slow to recede, only
gradually becoming a full globe, blue and white and smudges of brown
where the sun struck, as we seemed to continue circling it, bringing
more and more of the sunlit part into view.
"We are
approaching fifty thousand miles distance from the planet," Groth
said after a few minutes of silence while we ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ over
this detail or that, the Red Sea, Antarctica, India and the edge of
Australia.
"How fast are we
going?" Cory voiced for us.
"Only two
hundred and thirty thousand miles per hour," Groth said.
"We will stop at a distance of four hundred thousand miles, Sun-ward of
the planet."
I chuckled
inside. We accelerated from nothing at all to two hundred
thousand miles an hour in a few minutes and felt nothing.
"Not
quite," said Groth to me, then added for the others. "The
Earth moves around the Sun at a speed of thirty-three thousand miles
per hour, and the system is moving through space at seventy-three
thousand miles per hour, including its rotation around the core and the
vector of the galaxy in the universe. Our speed in relation to
the Earth is only one hundred twenty-five thousand miles per hour."
"Only?"
Cory said laughing. "Only,— the man says! How fast can this
ship go?"
"Maximum design
speed was theoretically point seven six light speed, or roughly five
hundred million miles per hour. I believe it can achieve point
nine, nine eight."
We just looked
at each other, the smiles gradually waning.
"That speed can
not be utilized within the plane of the Galaxy, as there is too much
matter, and there is too long an acceleration/deceleration delay.
Within the core, speed is generally limited to ten percent light speed,
and outside the core but within the galactic plane, about twenty
percent. Long voyages, such as that which brought us here, permit
faster speeds, and we reach almost forty percent light speed."
"How long did it
take you to get here?" Bill asked.
"From where?"
"From your home
world."
"I have been on
survey for one hundred ninety-four thousand seven-hundred ninety-two
years."
"I think it's
time for you to tell us about your mission," I said, "We're
all full of questions, and many more will likely come in your
presentation."
"First, eat and
refresh yourselves. Afterwards, there will be enough time before
we reach the observation point to show you our history,— or, the
history of our voyage. After we have completed the viewing of
your home world, we will return to Kansas, and during the return
voyage, I will tell you of our mission."
We heard a faint
tinkle of a bell, from the wall at the left of the entry door, and
looked over to see a sort of buffet, in a niche brightly lit from
above. We got up and went over, to find china plates, heavy
silver, linen napkins, and plates of seafood, cheese, macaroni with
what looked like pesto, tossed salads, mineral water, ice tea,— all
presented like a fancy hotel. I picked lobster tail for the first
time in my life, and a couple of big shrimp, bigger and sweeter than
any I'd ever eaten. We ate our fill, realizing we were all
hungry, ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ over the view. The lobster tail was
probably the most delicious new thing I ever ate. We all made
second trips to the bar for cheese and crackers, a great-tasting
pudding cake, hot coffee from a silvery thermos-like jug.
We talked about
the departure, pointed out to each other all sorts of details. Lord
God, we live on a beautiful planet.
I know this
sounds ridiculous, but eventually we started talking farming. How could
we, you might well ask, faced with a view that most men would sell half
their souls to see? I guess the attention span is only so
long. We were all incredibly impressed, flabbergasted,
overwhelmed, but you can only keep that up for so long. We kept
looking back at it, as it slowly receded.
As we were
talking about something or other, Bill says it was about genetically
modified corn, I caught a glimpse of something out of the left corner,
just as Groth told us to look to our left, and let my mouth drop.
Bill grabbed my hand again, as the lads turned their heads to see .
It was the
Moon. Not distant. Close. Ten miles away,
maybe. Huge, blue-grays, grays and not much more, at first lit
only by the reflected light of Earth. Obvious craters, the
mountains, flashing past, barely visible until we were already
receding, the Moon rapidly becoming a disk, the part that was lit by
the Sun so crisp and clearly visible, but completely unfamiliar, mostly
smaller craters, not any large seas like you see on our side, the side
that faces the Earth.
Groth
interjected as we watched in awe. "The far side of the Moon, as
you call it, is much different because the Moon's Face was frozen
towards the Earth early in its existence, while it was still semi
molten, and only the great craters remained following lava flows.
Over the billions of years since, the far side has taken most of the
hits from debris from the formation of the solar system as well as
interstellar gravel, because the Earth draws matter away from direct
collision with the face."
We watched for
another twenty minutes or so as the Moon receded, hanging above the now
distant Earth, which looked only three or four times the size of the
Moon as seen from Earth. There wasn't much said.
"Let me show you
my voyage so far," Groth said, "We are an hour from the
farthest point of your orientation trip."
The window went
blank, deep black, still no reflection at all. Then the familiar
disk of the Galaxy appeared, indescribably beautiful.
"My voyage began
on the planet Kreeut, which means ‘Earth’ in English. This is a typical
resident of the planet."
We saw in the
top left corner of the window a pair of humanoid figures, with hairless
large craniums on long heads, short necks, tall slender thorax,
three-fingered hands on long arms that went almost to the floor, deep
eye sockets, small compound eyes and fairly large ears. The
mouths were similar to ours, but smaller, and I saw no teeth when they
opened as they talked or smiled or whatever they were doing. They
were bipedal, with short stumpy legs, broad hips. They were
dressed in flowing fabric of some sort, iridescent white, covering
everything from neck to hip with one piece, a second piece a short
skirt. There were shoes, apparently of the same material as the
rest of the outfit. I couldn't tell if they were of the same or
opposite sex. They moved gracefully, a little slowly.
"The Makers, or
Grez, were of similar construction as yourselves, descended from
omnivorous mountain dwellers on the fourth planet of the main sequence
star they called Hrub,— their Sun. It is located here."
A violet arrow
appeared near the center of the Galaxy.
"Kreeut evolved
slowly in comparison to Earth, as have all other recorded ecosystems
close to the Core. The planet did not develop life until it was
well over five billion years evolved. The long period in
comparison with Earth is probably due to the higher incidence of debris
at the center of the galaxy, which resulted in many more cataclysmic
collisions which ended or postponed evolutionary progress. Even
after life was rampant, and the collision rates reduced, it was another
two billion years before the first primates evolved.
"The Grez
evolved over another half billion years from these primates, in
incremental steps, and in a fairly small enclave on a
sub-continent. About a hundred million years before my
construction, the Grez began the first tribal society, conquering the
planet after several tens of million years, discovering wheeled
transportation only long after they spread over the planet. For
more than a million years, the agrarian society held sway, similar to
your society in the period of six to seven thousand years ago.
The period was stable until mechanical energy was harnessed, and the
printing process developed. It took less than a million years to
harness electricity, considered remarkable in comparison with other
civilizations, which have taken thirty million or more years to develop
an electrically powered society. Your race has eclipsed all
records. It only took you a few hundred years.
"Electronics
took another million years, and off-world exploration began five
hundred thousand years after that. It took another million years
to develop the grav drive, and almost five million years to discover
the method of instant communication via gravity wells now used.
The Grez began exploring the systems surrounding Hrub about thirty
million years ago, and it was another five million years before the
‘drive’ was developed, permitting gradual Galactic exploration.
All exploration has been conducted by groups like this, as the natural
life span of the Grez is only about one thousand years, and after
optimization can not be extended beyond fifteen hundred,— not long
enough to complete a long voyage. Genetically, the Grez can not
be placed in any slower state of existence,— what you term suspended
animation,— as their stem and brain cells simply wither and die in a
matter of days, and all other cells within weeks.
"This system,—
your Solar system,— was last visited some fifteen million years ago,
and no evidence was found of any intelligence higher than instinctive
stem cell brain systems. Although exciting and promising, because
you have a Moon and fluid water, it was not expected to produce
anything approximating rudimentary sentient life for at least another
hundred million years. As that was the only visit, and the data
on the rapidity of development of life on your planet not considered to
be worthy of in-depth study, given the remoteness of Earth from Kreeut,
the Grez failed to understand the significance of Earth."
"It took a
million years to go from the train to the television?" Cory
asked. "Why so long?"
"My calculations
indicate human inventiveness is roughly two thousand times that of
other sentient races. Also, humans are, like all life on Earth,
extremely fecund. All other known races, sentient or not,
reproduce at a rate much closer to replacement. They maintain a
stationary level, increasing population only at very low rates.
It took the Grez nearly fifty million years to dominate their planet,
once they began to move out of their ancestral savagery of several
hundred million years. It has taken humans, Homo sapiens, only
one or two tens of thousand years.
The Grez are the
only surviving omnivores on their planet, the only eaters of protein
from other plant-eating species,— other than bacteria and yeast-like
organisms. There was only one other, which fed on carrion only,
and had no true brain. Also, there are far fewer species than on
Earth. You have many hundreds of thousands. The average is
a few thousand on all other known life-bearing planets. The high
number of species was noted on the first visit here, as well as the
short lifespan, but this was not considered to be significant. In
fact, it was considered to be an impediment to the development of
sentience."
"Why is
that?" Bill asked. "Why do we have so many species in
comparison?"
"That is not
clear. There is a definitely higher rate of mutation on Earth,
which may result from the somewhat high incidence of radioactive
elements within your planet, even after all these billions of
years. It may be that a large nova occurred in the near environs,
and the planet was struck by a shower of newly created radioactive
debris. But the other planets of the Solar system do not have the
same rate of radioactive composition. They are more similar to
the rates of other planetary bodies."
"Let's hear the
rest of the voyage, before we get into discussions of details," I
said, "we could spend a year on that alone."
"Yes, perhaps a
lot more," said Groth, "I departed the Hrub system bound
for this spiral arm, but to first map a promising planetary system here
(Groth drew a line in an arching path from the arrow to a point a
little more than halfway from the center of the galaxy, indicated by
another violet arrow. There was a third violet arrow, perhaps two
thirds of the distance out, and a yellow arrow just beyond that.)
"This system had
a viable ecosystem, with more than two thousand species, plus the usual
bacteria and viruses, but nothing pointing to sentience within the next
hundred million years or so. It took only a few years to
catalogue the entire planet, and I left to go here (the yellow arrow
blinked on and off), passing through your arm of the galaxy along this
path."
Another arching
path traced out on the scene, and stopped right next to the point of
the third violet arrow.
"It was here
that I detected the gravity well fission evidence, and diverted a scout
to the solar system. The detection was in your year 1936. I
dispatched the fifth ship to do an initial evaluation survey, which
confirmed the need for an immediate full survey. By that time, I
already detected the signs of a technologically developed society, and
overrode the directives to begin the full survey. I arrived here
in 1949. Since then I have catalogued, gathered samples, and
redefined the mission. All has now been changed."
"To what?"
I asked. "Why the mystery?"
"I will explain
as soon as you see this."
The Galaxy faded
into black, and the Earth and Moon appeared together. The full Earth
was mostly blue, but also green and tan globe, swathed in wisps of
white over the blue, more heavily over the green and tan areas. It
looked to be two or three times the size of the Moon as seen from
Earth. Hanging near it, almost full, not quite half the size of
Earth, was the Moon, crisp White-Gray, almost as white as the clouds of
Earth. Nobody said anything, we just stared, Bill holding onto my
arm, leaning a little into me, my hand on his leg. I will never
see a more beautiful thing than our home, brilliant and pristine,
hanging against the infinite black of space, peppered with myriad
brilliant points of the brighter stars. It is an image I will
never lose. We just stared, spell-bound, for what might have been
ten minutes or forty.
"It is time to
return." Groth said.
The Earth
started to move to our left, as Groth turned the ship. As it
moved behind the hull, we saw only the stars, until the window turned
dark, and they almost disappeared, just before the Sun appeared, still
too brilliant to look at for long. The window got darker and
darker, until it was black, nothing visible at all.
"It is time for
me to tell you of the mission and its origin," Groth said,
"It will not be particularly uplifting."
The Galaxy
appeared again on the window, and we seemed to move towards and into
the center.
"The total
number of main sequence stars in the galaxy is five hundred seventy six
million. The total number of known water and carbon-based living
ecosystems within the galaxy is forty-eight thousand, of which fewer
than twenty thousand are outside the core. There are six water
and silicon-based living ecosystems. The total number of known
ecosystems in which a sentient race has developed is ninety-one.
All are water/carbon based. Only one technologically competent
sentient race has been located outside the core of the Galaxy.
Here, on the planet Earth.
"Of the
ninety-four sentient races found in the last thirty million years, four
are located on this planet. No other ecosystem is known to have
fostered more than one segregate sentient race. Yours has
constructed a civilization, while the other three on your planet have
not progressed beyond their ocean habitat. Of the ninety other
sentient races, seventy-four have developed civilizations. Eleven
of these regressed into sentient but non-civilization status.
Sixteen destroyed themselves through ecological self-contamination or
terrorist warfare. Twenty-three were destroyed when their systems
were drawn in to the ever-enlarging black hole at the center of the
galaxy, before they could evolve a technology to emigrate.
"The Grez have
estimated several thousand sentient races have so perished, unable to
develop in time a functioning drive which would permit emigration from
their home world to a suitable planet farther out in the disk of the
galaxy, and thus billions of years from being sucked into the core
hole. The Grez themselves planned on emigrating sometime in the
next hundred million years or so, just to ensure they were not
annihilated like all their predecessors. Hrub was far enough from
the core hole to survive another two hundred thirty-four million years.
"Of the
remaining twenty-four known civilizations, twelve progressed to
off-planet travel, but regressed to isolative cultures. Seven
progressed to local interstellar travel. One, the Grez, has
progressed to potentially extra-galactic travel capability, but no
attempt was made to travel to another galaxy, due to the extremely long
time requirements.
"Of the known
civilizations, as of this moment in time, two survive."
"Two?" I
said, stunned. "Only two? What happened to the others?"
"All have been
destroyed by the ‘event.’"
"What
event?" we all four seemed to cry out at once.
"Wait. Watch."
We zoomed to a
point directly in front of the core, stars packed so closely together,
it looked almost as if it was a single white sphere, then we plunged
back into the galaxy, the stars taking shape as individual points of
light, then we passed through a cloud, a ring of fire and saw it,— the
core hole.
Rather, we saw
around it. Great ripples of light, bursts of energy as points of
light elongated, became ribbons of violet and beyond-violet-white
light, edging ever closer to the center we couldn't see, the black of
nothingness. The ribbons of light winked out as soon as they
approached the blackness. Just disappeared. The center of
the galaxy was a black hole of indescribable proportions and
mesmerizing beauty. Suddenly, the blackness collapsed,
instantaneously, disappeared, followed by a gigantic, titanic explosion
of light, just a pinpoint at first, rapidly expanding, stars exploding
like Chinese firecrackers as the sphere of gas at the leading edge of
the sphere hit them, the sphere gradually reaching out until the entire
globe of light we had seen exploded in turn, as we pulled away, far
above the galaxy again. The entire center of the galaxy was now a
pearly-white cloudy mass. The expansion stopped.
"What stops
it?" Rob asked.
"Time,"
said Groth, "this is the galaxy as it appears now."
"Now?" I
almost shouted, "We don't see anything like that!"
"It is yet
another one hundred and two thousand, six-hundred, three years before
the first light from the ‘event’ reaches Earth. Along with X-rays
of a power never before seen, as well as a soup of intense radiation."
"Will the entire
galaxy be consumed by the event?" Bill asked. His voice was
calm, quiet.
"Not at
all," said Groth, "the galaxy is being born, more
accurately, reborn. The new galaxy will have almost one hundredth
of one percent more free solid matter than its parent at birth.
The matter has been fabricated by the stars through fusion. First
from the fusion of hydrogen to helium, then the successive fusion of
helium and all other elements, all the way up the chain to the densest
elements of all. The Galaxy has been thus reborn countless
millions, probably billions of times."
"Why did the
core explode?" someone asked, "I thought black holes
were forever, the gravity was too strong for anything to ever escape."
"When the mass
of a black hole reaches that of several hundred billion suns and their
systems, the gravity becomes so intense it penetrates the fabric of
space, and in so doing the entire mass of the core is instantly sucked
through the hole and regurgitated outwards in an orgy of simultaneous
fission and fusion of infinitely small particles, which as they cool
are transformed and coalesce gradually into the much more commonly
known building blocks of electrons, protons and neutrons, among
others. These coalesce into the elements, primarily hydrogen, the
building material of the universe."
"But what about
the 'Big Bang' we've always heard about?" I said softly. I
was following the presentation pretty well, but . . .
"It did not
happen as your scientific circles postulate," Groth said,
"no black hole can possibly avoid penetrating the fabric of space once
it reaches critical mass. The mass of the known universe is at
least several thousand billion times the amount needed for critical
mass. When a black hole is consumed, it returns to the open
universe the total mass/energy/light it 'consumed' over the hundreds of
billions of years that created the critical mass. Almost all of
it. A small black hole remains, the core of the nascent
galaxy. It has been theorized for many generations that the
actual process is somewhat more complex, that the penetration of the
fabric of space involves a dual universe, mirror of this one, and that
there is an even matter exchange, because the sum total of matter and
energy must be the same; however, no proof has ever been found, one way
or the other such an anti-matter universe exists."
"All galaxies do
this?" I asked.
"All."
"Will Earth be
destroyed?" Rob asked.
"Yes"
Groth said.
"How long before
the explosion reaches us?" I asked.
"The light and
radiation will arrive in one hundred and two thousand, six-hundred,
three years, two hundred eighteen days, five hours. The physical
blast wave will arrive in one hundred and thirty thousand,
four-hundred, eighteen years, six days, three hours, and twelve
minutes. At the latest iteration."
"And the
radiation will destroy the Solar system?" Cory asked,
"Not
completely. The first wave will contain highly-charged particles
which will destroy any living organism, regardless of any
shielding. Total destruction will occur when the sun goes
nova. The material shock wave will make that inevitable, some
thirty thousand years later."
None of us could
think of anything to say, I think. It's one thing to say that the
Earth will be destroyed next week. A hundred thousand years is a
long, long time. Five thousand generations, more than a thousand
lifetimes; remote, unfathomable, but nonetheless real.
The projection
continued, and the opalescent sphere gradually consumed the entire
galaxy, kept expanding outwards, but more rapidly above and below the
main disk, turning the sphere into a rounded barrel, the ends of which
disappeared by gradually paling. The part along the disk, that
part of the sphere slowed, part of the upper barrel flattening down
into a disk, now spinning much more slowly, the light almost going
out. Points of light appeared in the dark clouds of the center,
more and more, and spread through the rest of the disk, until a whole
new spiral galaxy formed, much smaller than the original, at least at
first. Then, gradually, it grew, as the spiral whirled through
space. Movement stopped again.
"The time from
the core reaching critical mass and what you see now is approximately
twenty-eight point eight billion years. This is the beginning of
the period of stability, lasting from one hundred to four hundred
thirty billion years, as the core gradually accretes mass and energy
into the small but growing black hole at the center."
"And all
galaxies do this?" Bill asked.
"Presumably,
yes. The probability is more than ninety-eight percent that all
spiral galaxies, which are formed by the attraction of matter and light
into the black hole, undergo the cycles. The Grez have observed
seven galaxies which have fairly recently gone into the rebirth
cycle. In all cases, the new black hole at the center of the core
is exactly the same size. Roughly two point seven million times
as massive as your Sun."
"How long
between, . . . events?" asked Rob. Cory was pale.
"Frequency
depends upon the amount of matter available in the local quadrant of
space. Matter is, statistically, evenly spread throughout the
universe. The Grez found no indication of an end boundary of the
universe, and matter density varies only slightly from quadrant to
quadrant. Enough to make a difference in accretion rates
however. The Galactic Event probably occurs every three hundred
to six hundred billion years."
"How far out
have you looked?"
"Several
trillion light years. Beyond the point the red shift caused by
linear gravitational forces makes light no longer visible."
"Linear
gravitational forces?"
"The longer a
light wave travels through space, the more gravitational pull has been
exerted upon it along its path, and the greater the red shift.
After several trillion light-years, the red shift is total, the light
no longer visible, and the energy of the light is totally absorbed, so
it is no more."
"If the galaxy
is destroyed, what is your purpose here? What's the point?"
"My mission was
originally only to survey, and to bring back to Hrub the catalogue of
several living ecosystems, precursor to selection of a system that
would provide the Grez with a new home. I have modified it, in
light of the Event. My mission is now preservation of the
species."
"What
species?" Bill said, very softly.
"Intelligent
ecosystems."
"Of which two
remain," I said.
"And one of
which will be destroyed soon," Cory piped in.
"Because Hrub is
close to the core." I concluded.
"No. Hrub
was consumed. It went into supernova approximately a thousand
years ago. Two hundred years earlier, all living organisms in the
Hrub system were annihilated."
Oh,
Christ! The only other species,— gone. Like reading
about your newborn cousin who lives across country, hearing he will
soon be in Katy to visit you, and then his plane crashed on takeoff.