A voice he had not heard before—young, rather self-assured—came out of the air behind him.
“But this is all old material, familiar to everyone in the field. Sandemann and Koralski showed that those signals were almost certainly relaxation oscillations, probably in a plasma cloud near one of Saturn’s Trojan points.”
Duncan felt his façade of instant expertise rapidly crumbling; he should have guessed that there would be someone in his audience who would know far more about his subject than he did—and possibly, for that matter, even than Karl.
“I’m not competent to discuss that,” he replied. “I’m only reporting Dr. Helmer’s opinions. He believed that there was a whole new science here, waiting to be opened up. After all, every time we have explored some new region of the spectrum, it’s led to astonishing and totally unexpected discoveries. Helmer was convinced that this would happen again.
“But to study these gigantic waves—up to a million times longer than those observed in classical radio astronomy—we must use correspondingly gigantic antenna systems. Both to collect them—because they’re very weak—and to determine the directions from which they come.
“This was Karl Helmer’s Argus. His records and sketches contain quite detailed designs. I leave it to others to say how practical they are.”
“Argus would look in all directions simultaneously, like the great missile-tracking radars of the twentieth century. It would be the three-dimensional equivalent of CYCLOPS—and several hundred times larger, because it would need to be at least a thousand kilometers in diameter. Preferably ten thousand, to get good resolving power at these ultralow frequencies.”
“Yet it need contain much less material than CYCLOPS, because it would be built in Deep Space, under weightless conditions. Helmer chose as its location the satellite Mnemosyne, outermost of Saturn’s moons, and it seems a very logical choice...”
“For Mnemosyne is twenty million kilometers from Saturn, well clear of the planet’s own feeble ionosphere, and also far enough out for its tidal forces to be negligible. But most important of all, it has almost zero rotation. Only a modest amount of rocket power would cancel its spin entirely. Mnemosyne would then be the only body in the universe with no rotation at all, and Helmer suggests that it might be an ideal laboratory for various cosmological experiments.”
“Such as a test of Mach’s principle,” interrupted that confident young voice.
“Yes,” agreed Duncan, now more than ever impressed by his unknown critic. “That was one possibility he mentioned. But back to Argus...”
“Mnemosyne would serve as the core or nucleus of the array. Thousands of elements—little more than stiff wires—would radiate from it, like—like the spines of a sea urchin. Thus it could comb the entire sky for signals. And incidentally, the temperature out around Mnemosyne is so low that cheap superconductors could be used, enormously increasing the efficiency of the system.”
“I won’t get involved in the details of switching and phasing that would allow Argus to swing its antenna spines electrically—without moving them physically—so that it could concentrate on any particular region of the sky. All this, and a great deal more, Helmer had worked out in his notes, using techniques evolved with CYCLOPS and other radio telescopes.”
“You may wonder—as I did—how he ever hoped to get such a gigantic project started. He planned a simple demonstration, which he was certain would provide enough evidence to prove his theories.”
“He was going to launch two equal, massive weights in exactly opposite directions, each towing a fine wire, several hundred kilometers long. When the wire had been completely deployed, the weights would be jettisoned—and he would have a dimple dipole antenna, perhaps a thousand kilometers long. He hoped that he could persuade the Solar Survey to do the experiment, which would be quite cheap, and would certainly produce some results of value. The he was going to follow it up with more ambitious schemes, shooting wires out at right angles, and so on...”
“But I think I’ve said enough to let you judge for yourselves. There’s much more I’ve not had time to transcribe. I hope you can be patient, at least until after the Centennial. For that, as you are well aware, is what I really came for—and I have work to do...”
“Thank you for your moral support, Bob,” said Duncan, when he and His Excellency the Ambassador for Titan had emerged into the bright sunlight of Virginia Avenue.
“I never said a word. I was completely out of my depth. And I kept hoping that someone would put the question I’m still anxious to see answered.”
“What’s that?” Duncan asked suspiciously.
“How did Helmer think he could get away with it?”
“Oh, that,” said Duncan, mildly disappointed; this aspect of the matter seemed so unimportant now. “I think I understand his strategy. Four years ago, when we turned down his project for a simple long-wave detecting system—because we couldn’t afford it, and he wouldn’t say what he was really driving at—he decided he’d have to go directly to Earth and convince the top scientists there. That meant acquiring funds, somehow. I’m sure he hoped that he’d be vindicated so quickly that we’d forget any minor infractions of the exchange laws. It was a gamble, of course, but he felt it so important that he was prepared to take risks.”
“Hmm,” said the Ambassador, obviously not too impressed. “I know that Helmer was a friend of yours, and I don’t want to speak harshly of him. But wouldn’t it be fair to call him a scientific genius—and a criminal psychopath?”
Rather to his surprise, Duncan found himself bristling at this description. Yet he had to admit it contained some truth. One of the attributes of the psychopath—a term still popular among laymen, despite three hundred years of professional attempts to eradicate it—was a moral blindness to any interests but his own. Of course, Karl could always produce a very convincing argument that his interests were for the best of all concerned. The Makenzies, Duncan realized with some embarrassment, were also skilled at this kind of exercise.
“If there were irrational elements in Karl’s behavior, they were at least partly due to a breakdown he had fifteen years ago. But that never affected his scientific judgment; everyone I’ve spoken to agrees that Argus is sound.”
“I don’t doubt it—but why is it important? ”
“I’d hoped,” said Duncan mildly, “that I’d made that clear to our invisible friends.”
And I believe I have, he told himself, to at least one of them. His most penetrating questioner was certainly one of Terra’s top radio astronomers. He would understand, and only a few allies at that level were necessary. Duncan was certain that someday they would meet again, this time eye to eye, and with a pointed lack of reference to any prior encounter.
“As to why it’s important, Bob, I’ll tell you something that I didn’t mention to the Committee, and which I’m sure Karl never considered, because he was too engrossed in his own affairs. Do you realize what a project like Argus would do to the Titan economy? It would bring us billions and make us the scientific hub of the Solar System. It might even go a long way to solve our financial problems, when the demand for hydrogen starts to drop in the ’80s.”
“I appreciate that,” Farrell answered dryly, “especially as my taxes will go toward it. But let nothing interfere with the March of Science.”