Nemesis (31 page)

“Not any more, I think,” said Fisher, smiling slightly. “I’ve heard enough. But since I’m finally allowed to see this—”

“Now don’t be hurt,” said Wendel, putting her arm around his waist. “It was all strictly on a need-to-know basis. There were times when they hated having
me
around. They kept muttering, I imagine, about this suspicious Settler who was entirely too nosy, and wishing that I hadn’t been the one who had designed the hyperfield, so they could kick me out. Now, however, things have lightened to the point where I could arrange to have you come and see it. You’ll be on it eventually, after all, and I wanted you to admire it.” She hesitated, then added, “And me.”

He looked across at her and said, “You know that I admire you, Tessa, without any need for anything like this.” And he put his arm around her shoulder.

“I’m continuing to get older, Crile,” she said. “The process simply won’t stop. And I’m also dismayingly satisfied with you. I’ve been with you seven years now, going on eight, and I haven’t felt the old urge to see what other men might be like.”

Fisher said, “Is that a tragedy? Perhaps it’s just the fact that you’ve been so absorbed in the project. Now that the ship is completed, you’ll probably have a feeling of release, and enough time to begin hunting again.”

“No. I haven’t the urge. I just haven’t. But how about you? I know I neglect you at times.”

“It’s all right. When you neglect me for your work, that suits me. I want the ship as much as you do, dear, and one nightmare is that by the time it is finally ready, you and I will be too old to be allowed on.” He smiled again, this time with distinct ruefulness. “In your awareness of oncoming age, Tessa, don’t forget that I, too, am no longer a lad. In less than two years, I’ll be fifty. But I have a question I’m reluctant to ask for fear of disappointment, but I’m going to, anyway.”

“Ask away.”

“You arranged to have me see the ship, to be allowed into this holy of holies. Somehow I don’t think that Koropatsky would have allowed this if the project weren’t near completion. He’s almost as diseased on security as Tanayama was.”

“Yes, as far as the hyperfield is concerned, the ship is ready.”

“Has it flown?”

“Not yet. There are still things to do, but they don’t involve the hyperfield itself.”

“There have to be test flights, I suppose.”

“With a crew aboard, of course. There’s no way of doing it crewless and still feel that the life-support systems will work. Even animals won’t give us the necessary assurance.”

“Who will go on the first trip?”

“Volunteers chosen from among those on the project who qualify.”

“How about you?”

“I’m the only one who won’t be a volunteer. I
must
go. I could trust no one else to make decisions in an emergency.”

“Then I go, too?” said Crile.

“No, not you.”

Fisher’s face instantly grew dark with anger. “The arrangement was—”

“Not on the test flights, Crile.”

“When will they be over, then?”

“It’s hard to say. It depends on what troubles may develop. If all goes as smoothly as possible, then two or three flights might suffice. A matter of months.”

“When will the first test flight be?”

“That I don’t know, Crile. We’re still working on the ship.”

“You said it was ready to go.”

“Yes, as far as the hyperfield is concerned. But we’re installing the neuronic detectors.”

“What are those? I never heard you mention them.”

Wendel did not answer directly. She looked around, quietly and thoughtfully, then said, “We’re attracting attention, Crile, and I suspect that there are people here who feel nervous about your presence. Let’s go home.”

Fisher did not move. “I take it you refuse to discuss this with me. Even though it happens to be vital to me.”

“We’ll discuss it—at home.”

Crile Fisher was restless, his fury increasing. He refused to sit down and towered over Tessa Wendel, who had shrugged and taken a seat on the white modular couch and was now looking up at him, frowning.

“Why are you angry, Crile?”

Fisher’s lips were trembling. He pressed them together and waited before answering, as though forcing himself to remain calm by sheer muscular effort.

He said finally, “Once a crew is made up without me, it will be a precedent. I won’t
ever
get on. It must be understood from the beginning that I am on the ship every time until we reach the Neighbor Star—and Rotor. I don’t want to be left out.”

Wendel said, “Why do you jump at conclusions? You won’t be omitted at the crucial time. The ship isn’t even ready to go yet.”

Fisher said, “You said the ship was ready. What are these neuronic detectors you’re suddenly speaking of? It’s a device to keep me quiet, to keep me distracted, and then sneak the ship away before I realize I’m left out. That’s what they’re doing. And you’re playing along with it.”

“Crile, you’re mad. The neuronic detector is my idea, my insistence, my desire.” She stared at him, unblinking, daring him to do something about it.

“Your idea!” he exploded. “But …”

She held out her hand as if to silence him. “It’s something we’ve been working on concurrently with the ship. It’s not something that falls within my expertise, but I have driven the neurophysicists onward rather mercilessly to have it. And the reason? Precisely because I want you on the ship when it leaves for the Neighbor Star. Don’t you see?”

He shook his head.

“Figure it out, Crile. You would if you weren’t blind with rage for no sane reason. It’s perfectly straightforward. It’s a ‘neuronic detector.’ It detects nerve activity at a distance. Complex nerve activity. In short, it detects the presence of intelligence.”

Fisher stared at her. “You mean what doctors use in hospitals.”

“Of course. It’s a routine tool in medicine and in psychology to detect mental disorders early on—but at meter distances. I need it at
astronomical
distances. It’s not something new. It’s something old with a vastly increased range. Crile, if Marlene’s alive, she’ll be on the Settlement, on Rotor. Rotor will be there, somewhere, circling the star. I told you that it would not be easy to spot. If we don’t find it quickly, can we be sure that it’s not there—and not that we just somehow missed it, like missing an island in the ocean or an asteroid in space? Do we just continue searching for months, or years, to make sure that we haven’t just missed it, that it’s really not there?”

“And the neuronic detector—”

“Will find Rotor for us.”

“Won’t it be just as hard to detect—”

“No, it won’t. The Universe is overrun with light and radio waves and all kinds of radiation, and we’ll have to distinguish one source from a thousand others, or from a million others. It can be done, but it’s not easy, and it may take time. However, to get the precise electromagnetic radiation associated with neurons in complex relationship is quite unique. We are not likely to have more than one source exactly like that—or if we do, it’s because Rotor has built another Settlement. There you have it. I am as intent on finding your daughter for you as you are for finding her for yourself. And why would I do that if I
weren’t intent on having you on the flight with us? You’ll be there.”

Fisher looked overwhelmed. “And you forced the entire project to do this?”

“I have considerable power over them, Crile. And there’s more to it as well. This is highly confidential; that’s why I couldn’t tell you at the ship.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

Wendel said, and there was a softness in her voice, “Crile, I spend more time thinking of you than you think. You don’t know how strongly I want to spare you disappointment. What if we find nothing at the Neighbor Star? What if a sweep of the skies tells us definitely that there are no living intelligent life-forms anywhere in its vicinity? Do we go straight home and report that we found no sign of Rotor? Now, Crile, don’t go into one of your moods. I’m not saying that failure to find intelligence at the Neighbor Star will necessarily imply that Rotor and its people have not survived.”

“What else can it imply?”

“They might have been so dissatisfied with the Neighbor Star that they decided to move on elsewhere. Perhaps they stopped long enough to mine some asteroids for new materials they would need for construction and for refurbishing the micro-fusion motors. Then on they would go.”

“And if that were so, how can we know where they would be?”

“They’ve been gone almost fourteen years. With hyper-assistance, they can travel only at the speed of light. If they have reached any star and settled in its neighborhood, it would have to be at a star within fourteen light-years distance of us. There are not very many of those. At superluminal velocity, we can visit each of those. With neuronic detectors, we can quickly decide whether Rotor is in the neighborhood of any of them.”

“They might be wandering through space between stars at this very moment. How would we detect them then?”

“We wouldn’t, but at least we increase our own chances just a bit if we investigate a dozen stars in six months with our neuronic detector, instead of spending that much time investigating one star in a futile search.
And if we fail—and we have to face the fact that we might fail—then at least we will return with considerable data on a dozen different stars, a white dwarf, a blue-white hot star, a Solar look-alike, a close binary, and so on. We’re not likely to make more than one trip in our lifetime, so why not make it a good one, and go down in history with a huge bang, eh, Crile?”

Crile said thoughtfully, “I suppose you’re right, Tessa. To comb a dozen stars and find nothing will be bad enough, but to search a single star vicinity and return thinking that Rotor might have been somewhere else that was reachable but that we lacked the time to explore would be much worse.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” said Crile sadly.

“Another thing,” said Wendel. “The neuronic detector might detect intelligence
not
of Earthly origin. We wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Fisher looked startled. “But that’s not likely, is it?”

“Not at all likely, but if it happens, all the more reason not to miss it. Especially if it is within fourteen light-years of Earth. Nothing in the Universe can be as interesting as another intelligent life-form—or as dangerous. We’d want to know about it.”

Fisher said, “What are the chances of detecting it at all if it is not of Earthly origin? The neuronic detectors are geared for human intelligence only. It seems to me that we wouldn’t even recognize a really odd life-form as being alive, let alone as being intelligent.”

Wendel said, “We may not be able to recognize life, but we can’t possibly fail to recognize intelligence, in my view, and it’s not life but intelligence that we’re after. Whatever intelligence might be, however strange, however unrecognizable, it has to involve a complex structure, a very complex structure—at least as complex as the human brain. What’s more, it’s bound to involve the electromagnetic interaction. Gravitational attraction is too weak; the strong and weak nuclear interactions are too short-range. And as for this new hyperfield we’re working with in superluminal flight, it doesn’t exist in nature as far as any of us knows, but exists only when it is devised by intelligence.

“The neuronic detector can detect an elaborately complex
electromagnetic field that will signify intelligence no matter the form or chemistry into which that intelligence may be molded. And we will be ready to either learn or run. As for unintelligent life, that is not at all likely to be dangerous to a technological civilization such as ourselves—though any form of alien life, even at the virus stage, would be interesting.”

“And why must all this be kept secret?”

“Because I suspect—in fact, I
know
—that the Global Congress will want us back very quickly so that they can be sure the project is successful and so that they can learn to build better models of superluminal vessels based on our experience with this prototype. I, on the other hand, if things go well, would certainly want to see the Universe and let them wait. I don’t say I’ll definitely do it, but I want the option held open. If they knew I was planning that—even thinking it—I suspect they would try to crew the ship with others whom they would consider more amenable to orders.”

Fisher smiled weakly.

Wendel said, “What’s wrong, Crile? Suppose there’s no sign of Rotor or its people. Would you then just want to go back to Earth in disappointment? The Universe at your fingertips, but given up?”

“No. I’m just wondering how long will it take to put in the detectors and all the other things you might dream up. In a little over two years, I’ll be fifty. At fifty, agents working for the Office are routinely taken off field duty. They get desk jobs on Earth and are no longer allowed to take spaceflights.”

“Well?”

“In a little over two years, I will no longer qualify for the flight. They’ll tell me I’m too old, and the Universe won’t be at my fingertips after all.”

“Nonsense! They’re going to let me go and I’m over fifty right now.”

“You’re a special case. It’s your ship.”

“You’re a special case, too, since I will insist on you. Besides, they won’t find it so easy to get qualified people to go on the
Superluminal
It will be all we can do to persuade anyone to volunteer. And they’ll have to volunteer; we can’t risk placing the trip into the hands of unwilling and frightened draftees.”

“Why wouldn’t they volunteer?”

“Because they’re Earthmen, my good Crile, and to almost all Earthmen, space is a horror. Hyperspace is a greater horror still and they’re going to hang back. There is going to be you and me, and we’re going to need three more volunteers and I tell you we’ll have trouble getting them. I’ve sounded out many, and I have two good people with a halfway promise: Chao-Li Wu and Henry Jarlow. I haven’t got my third yet. And even if, against all likelihood, there are as many as a dozen volunteers, they’re not going to cut you out in favor of anyone else, for I will insist on your going with me as my ambassador to the Rotorians—if that becomes necessary. And if even that is not enough, I promise you that the ship will take off before you’re fifty.”