Nemesis (48 page)

Wu said, “Am I to take it, Henry, that you are suggesting that there is an alien intelligence underground everywhere on the land surface?”

Jarlow said, “I don’t see what other conclusion we can come to unless we want to conclude that Blankowitz’s device is completely meaningless.”

“In that case,” said Wendel, “I wonder if it’s safe to go down and investigate. An alien intelligence is not necessarily a friendly intelligence, and the
Superluminal
is not equipped to make war.”

Wu said, “I don’t think we can give up. We must find out what kind of intelligent life is present, and how it might interfere—if at all—with any plans we may make to evacuate Earth and come here.”

Blankowitz said, “There
is
one place where the response
is a tiny bit more intense than it is anywhere else. Not much. Shall I try to find it again?”

Wendel said, “Go ahead. Try. We can examine the surroundings there carefully and then decide whether to descend or not.”

Wu smiled blandly. “I’m sure it will be entirely safe to do so.”

Wendel merely scowled unhappily.

The peculiar thing about Saltade Leverett (in the opinion of Janus Pitt) was that he liked it out in the asteroid belt. Apparently, there were some people who truly enjoyed emptiness, who loved inanimacy.

“I don’t dislike people,” Leverett would explain. “I can get all I want of them on holovision—talk to them, listen to them, laugh with them. I can do everything but feel them and smell them, and who wants to do that? Besides we’re building five Settlements in the asteroid belt and I can visit any one of them and get my fill of people and smell them, too, for what good that does me.”

And then, when he did come to Rotor—the “metropolis,” as he insisted on calling it—he would keep looking from one side to the other as though he expected people to crowd in on him.

He even looked at chairs suspiciously, and sat down on them with a sidewise slide as though hoping to wipe off the aura that the previous backside had left upon it.

Janus Pitt had always thought he was the ideal Acting Commissioner for the Asteroid Project. That position had, in effect, given him a free hand in everything that had to do with the outer rim of the Nemesian System. That included not only the Settlements in progress, but with the Scanning Service itself.

They had finished their lunch in the privacy of Pitt’s quarters, for Saltade would sooner go hungry than eat in a dining room to which the general public (meaning even a third person who was unknown to him) would be admitted. Pitt, in fact, felt a certain surprise that Leverett had agreed to eat with
him
.

Pitt studied him casually. Leverett was so lean and leathery, and gave such an appearance of whipcord and
gristle that he didn’t look as if he had ever been young or would ever be old. His eyes were faded blue, his hair faded yellow.

Pitt said, “When was the last time you were on Rotor, Saltade?”

“Nearly two years ago, and I take it unkindly of you to put me through this, Janus.”

“Why, what have I done? I certainly haven’t summoned you here, though since you are here, old friend, you’re welcome.”

“You might as well have summoned me. What’s this message you sent out to the effect that you were not to be bothered with little things. Are you getting to the point where you’re so big you want only big things?”

Pitt’s smile grew a trifle strained. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Saltade.”

“They had a report for you. They detected a small bit of radiation coming in from outside. They sent it to you and you sent back one of your special memos about how you couldn’t be bothered.”

“Oh, that!” (Pitt remembered. It had been that moment of self-pity and irritation. Surely he was allowed to be irritated at times.) “Well, your people are watching for Settlements. They shouldn’t bother me with minor matters.”

“If that’s your attitude, fine. But it so happens they’ve found something that’s not a Settlement and they don’t want to report it to you. They’ve reported it to me, and they’ve requested me to pass it on to you despite your order that you are not to be bothered with minutiae. They figure it’s my job to handle you, but I’d rather not, Janus. Are you becoming a cantankerous fellow in your powerful old age?”

“Don’t rattle on, Saltade. What is it they’ve reported?” said Pitt, with more than a touch of cantankerousness about him.

“They spotted a vessel.”

“What do you mean—a vessel? Not a Settlement?”

Leverett held up a gnarled paw. “Not a Settlement. I said a vessel.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand? Do you need a computer? If so,
yours is right there. A vessel is a ship making its way through space, with a crew on board.”

“How large?”

“It could carry half a dozen people, I suppose.”

“Then it must be one of ours.”

“It isn’t. Every one of ours is accounted for. This one is simply not of Rotorian manufacture. The Scanning Service may have been reluctant to talk to you about it, but they did some work on their own. No computer anywhere in the system has been involved with the construction of any ship like that vessel, and no one could have built a vessel like that without computer involvement at some stage.”

“Then you conclude?”

“That it’s not a Rotorian vessel. It comes from elsewhere. As long as there was the slightest chance that it might have been produced by us, my boys kept quiet and didn’t disturb you, per your instructions. When it appeared, definitely, not to be one of our own, they passed it on to me and said you should be told, but that they wouldn’t do it. You know, Janus, past a certain point, trampling on people is counterproductive.”

“Shut up,” said Pitt peevishly. “How could it be non-Rotorian? Where would it come from?”

“I suppose it had to come from the Solar System.”

“Impossible! A vessel of the size you describe, with half a dozen people onboard couldn’t possibly have made the trip from the Solar System. Even if they discovered hyper-assistance, and it is certainly conceivable they did, a half-dozen people at close quarters for over two years could not complete the trip alive. Maybe there are some exemplary crews, well-trained and unusually suited to the task, who could make the trip and end up at least partly sane, but nobody in the Solar System would risk it. Nothing less than a complete Settlement, a self-contained world occupied by people accustomed to it from birth, could possibly make an interstellar trip and do well.”

“Nevertheless,” said Leverett, “we have here a small vessel of non-Rotorian manufacture. That’s a fact, and you have no choice but to accept that, I promise you. Where do
you
say it came from? The nearest star is the Sun; that’s a fact, too. If it didn’t come from the Solar
System, then it came from some other star system and the journey was a good deal longer than two years and a bit. If two years and a bit is impossible, everything else is certainly impossible.”

Pitt said, “Suppose it’s not human at all. Suppose these are other forms of life, with other psychologies, that can endure long trips at close quarters.”

“Or suppose they are people this big”—and Leverett held his thumb and forefinger a quarter of an inch apart—“and that the vessel
is
a Settlement for them. Well—it’s not so. They’re not aliens. They’re not teeny-weenies. That vessel isn’t Rotorian, but it
is
human. We’d expect aliens to look completely different from human beings, and they ought to build ships completely different from those of human beings. That vessel is a human vessel right down to the serial code along its side, which is in the terrestrial alphabet.”

“You didn’t say that!”

“I didn’t think it needed saying.”

Pitt said, “It could be a human ship, but it could be automated. It could have robots onboard.”

“It could,” said Leverett. “In that case, should we blow it out of the sky? If there are no human beings onboard, there are no ethical problems involved. You destroy property but, after all, they’re trespassing.”

Pitt said, “I’m considering it.”

Leverett smiled broadly. “Don’t! That vessel has not spent more than two years traveling through space.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you forgotten the condition Rotor was in when we arrived here? We
did
spend over two years in passage, and half of that time we were in normal space going at just under the speed of light. At that speed, the surface was abraded by collision with atoms, molecules, and dust particles. It took polishing and repairs, as I recall. Don’t you remember?”

“And this ship?” said Pitt, without bothering to say whether he remembered.

“As shiny as though it had traveled no more than a few million kilometers at ordinary speeds.”

“That’s impossible. Don’t bother me with these games.”

“It’s not impossible. A few million kilometers at ordinary
speeds is all they passed through. The rest of the way—hyperspace.”

“What are you talking about?” Pitt’s patience was wearing thin.

“Superluminal flight. They’ve got it.”

“That’s theoretically impossible.”

“Is it? Well, if you can think of any other way of explaining all this, go to it.”

Pitt stared at him, open-mouthed. “But—”

“I know. The physicists say it’s impossible, but they have it, anyway. Now let me tell you this. If they have superluminal flight, they must have superluminal communication. Then the Solar System knows they’re here and it knows what’s happening. If we blow the ship out of the sky, the Solar System will know that, too, and, after a while, a fleet of such vessels will come out of space, and they’ll come shooting at us.”

“What would you do, then?” Pitt found himself temporarily unable to think.

“What else is there to do but to greet them in friendly fashion, find out what they are, who they are, what they’re doing, and what they want? Now it’s my idea that they plan to land on Erythro. We’ll have to land there, too, and talk to them.”

“On Erythro?”

“If they’re on Erythro, Janus, where do you want us to be? We’ve got to confront them there. We’ve got to take that chance.”

Pitt felt his mind beginning to tick over again. He said, “Since this seems to you to be necessary, would you be willing to do it? With a ship and a crew, of course.”

“You mean you won’t?”

“As Commissioner? I can’t come down to greet some unknown ship.”

“Beneath the official dignity. I see. So I’m to face the aliens, or the teeny-weenies, or the robots, or whatever, without you.”

“I’ll be in constant contact, of course, Saltade. Voice and image.”

“At a distance.”

“Yes, but a successful mission on your part would be suitably rewarded, after all.”

“Is that so? In that case—” Leverett looked at Pitt, speculatively.

Pitt waited, then said, “Are you going to name a price?”

“I am going to
suggest
a price. If you want me to meet this vessel on Erythro, then I want Erythro.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want Erythro as my home. I’m tired of the asteroids. I’m tired of scanning. I’m tired of
people
. I’ve had enough. I want a whole empty world. I want to build nice living quarters, get food and necessaries from the Dome, have my own farm and my own animals if I can coax them to do well.”

“How long have you wanted this?”

“I don’t know. It’s been growing on me. And since I came here and have gotten a good look at Rotor with its crowds and noise, Erythro looks better than ever to me.”

Pitt frowned. “That makes two of you. You’re just like that mad girl.”

“What mad girl?”

“Eugenia Insigna’s daughter. You know Insigna, I suppose.”

“The astronomer? Of course. I haven’t met her daughter.”

“Completely mad. She wants to stay on Erythro.”

“I don’t consider that mad. I consider that very sensible. In fact, if she wants to say on Erythro, I could endure a woman—”

Pitt held up a finger. “I said ‘girl.’ ”

“How old is she?”

“Fifteen.”

“Oh? Well, she’ll get older. Unfortunately, so will I.”

“She’s not one of your raving beauties.”

“If you’ll take a good look, Janus,” said Leverett, “neither am I. You have my terms.”

“You want it officially recorded in the computer?”

“Just as a formality, eh, Janus?”

Pitt did not smile. “Very well. We’ll try to watch where that vessel lands, and we’ll make you ready for Erythro.”

Eugenia Insigna said in a tone that seemed to place her halfway between puzzlement and discontent, “Marlene was singing this morning. Some song about: ‘Home, home in the stars, where the worlds are all swinging and free.’ ”

“I know the song,” said Siever Genarr, nodding. “I’d sing it for you, but I can’t carry a tune.”

They had just finished lunch. They had lunch together every day now, something Genarr looked forward to with quiet satisfaction, even though the subject of conversation was invariably Marlene and although Genarr felt that Insigna might be turning to him only out of desperation, since to whom else could she talk freely on the subject?

He didn’t care. Whatever the excuse—

“I never heard her sing before,” said Insigna. “I always thought she couldn’t. Actually, she has a pleasant contralto.”

“It must be a sign that she’s happy now—or excited—or contented—or something good, Eugenia. My own feeling is that she’s found her place in the Universe, found her unique reason for living. It’s not given to all of us to find that. Most of us, Eugenia, drag onward, searching for life’s personal meaning, not finding it, and ending with anything from roaring desperation to quiet resignation. I’m the quietly resigned type myself.”

Insigna managed to smile. “I suspect you don’t think that of me.”

“You’re not roaringly desperate, Eugenia, but you do tend to continue to fight lost battles.”

Her eyes dropped. “Do you mean Crile?”

Genarr said, “If you think I do, then I do. But actually, I was thinking of Marlene. She’s been out a dozen times. She loves it. It makes her happy, and yet you sit here fighting off terror. What is it, Eugenia, that bothers you about it?”