In effect, a connecting path was created between the Gate and the Shapieron-somewhat like the filament of ionized particles that an electric field creates between a thundercloud and the ground, opening the path which a lighting flash will follow. The result was that the wave defining the probe that VISAR was in the process of launching, instead of going where it was meant to, followed the trail back. The probe's instruments quickly established the presence of the Shapieron and went into beacon mode to mark the location. VISAR was unable to raise ZORAC, however, and so resorted to establishing contact via the Minervan planetary net in the way that by now was routine.
So, they would be going home after all. But there was more. Mainly because of Eesyan's misgivings when the first full Gate test involving the Shapieron was due, VISAR had stored a backup copy of ZORAC-just in case. Now that contact to VISAR had been reestablished, restoration of ZORAC became first priority.
The part of the team who were down in Melthis were taken to the Agracon's communications room to follow the event via the link to the Shapieron. Reloading and linking took awhile because VISAR was restricted to operating via the beacon connection. It could have been carried out more quickly back at Thurien, but Garuth wanted to bring his ship back under the control of the entity he had known for years, and nobody was going to spoil it.
"Integration complete and checking indicators good," VISAR pronounced. "It's all yours." Everyone on the Command Deck looked toward Garuth.
He took a moment to prepare. "ZORAC."
"Commander?"
A wave of relief and elation surged around the company watching from the surface. Some Lambians and Cerians were present also. "Just checking on current status and the schedule for today," Garuth said. "What do you have?"
"Eesyan has approved the last series of raft tests to assess collapse of the local bubble after stabilization. All results affirmative. No anomalies detected. We're cleared for full-scale tests on the Shapieron. On Eesyan's insistence, VISAR has stored a backup of yours truly." Smiles went back and forth among those watching both in the ship and down on the surface. ZORAC was exhibiting the computer equivalent of amnesia, reporting what had been the situation months before. It hadn't realized yet that it was the backup.
"Would you care to analyze the surroundings of the ship, evaluate, and report?" Garuth invited.
A short silence ensued. Nobody expected that it would take a system of ZORAC's logical capability very long to arrive at the correct conclusion.
"I gather that I have some catching up to do," ZORAC responded finally. "And am hugely indebted to Eesyan, to put it mildly. Okay, you've got it. No more wisecracks about the pedantry of biominds." An outbreak of applause greeted the statement.
"Welcome back," Garuth said.
It was agreed that the Shapieron would remain at Minerva for a further week for the story to be explained in full. With the perspective that the mission was able to bring of the future that continued rivalry and escalating hostility would lead to, few doubted that Cerios and Lambia would quickly overcome the differences that had begun to emerge between them and devote themselves to the common goal that represented the only progressive future for all of them.
It was going to be a busy week. Besides providing the entire story of Earth, Thurien, and everything that had happened from the departure of the Giants from Minerva, to the decision to mount the Shapieron mission from Thurien, it would be necessary to advance their understanding of physics-the Minervans still hadn't been able to make any sense of quantum phenomena. On top of that there was insatiable curiosity among Minerva's public and news media to be addressed. Adopting a policy of starting the way they meant to carry on, the leaders of the two powers decided against any blackout of the aliens' presence. It would have been short-lived in any case. Even in its parking orbit a hundred miles above the surface, the Shapieron extended over half the diameter of the full moon and passed overhead several times a day as a brilliant pencil of light or a silhouette, depending on the position of the Sun.
But for now, all that the members of the mission really wanted to do was get away for a while, rest, and come to terms, each in their own way and in their own mind, with the feeling of sudden reprieve from the exile that they had inwardly been preparing themselves for. After staying for a dinner in Melthis that evening that Harzin and Perasmon insisted on, which could hardly be refused, the Ganymeans and the Terrans down on the surface boarded their craft to return to the Shapieron. Of course, the Minervans were all eager for a chance to visit the starship too. But not now. None of them pressed the point. That could come later, in the days they had ahead. They all understood.
It had been a long day at UNSA's Goddard Center too. Caldwell had tried to maintain an air of sanguinity commensurate with the spirit of the occasion as he smiled and nodded his way through rooms where staff dutifully explained their work to gum-chewing tourists in baseball hats and beach shorts, and past school groups depositing sticky fingerprints around the exhibit hall in the lobby and in the computer graphics room. He'd survived worse, he supposed.
One of the most popular items was the Thurien neurocouplers in the bay along the corridor from his office. All day long there had been a line of people waiting for their turn to walk among the towering cityscapes of Thurien, gaze in awe at real dinosaurs and jungles on another world, or be whisked through a virtual tour of the Galaxy, courtesy of VISAR. Within half an hour of opening, Caldwell had been approached by interests wanting to get in on the ground floor of a Terran commercial end of the operation. He wouldn't talk to them. That was what UNSA had a Public Relations department for.
"This is Mr. Caldwell, Director of the Advanced Sciences Division," Amelia, who had been doing a gallant job as tour guide, said to the couple in the matching shirts. Things were quieting down at last. They were among the last to be leaving. "ASD handles most of our dealings with the Thuriens."
"Do you think it's safe, allowing these aliens to come straight into people's heads here like this?" the woman accosted. "They could be setting us up for an invasion. After all, look what happened to the Jevlenese."
"We do keep a close watch on the situation at all times," Caldwell assured her.
"Psycho-socio sympathetic resonances," the man said. "Tuned to the cortical subliminal modes." He looked at Caldwell expectantly. Mercifully, Caldwell's phone beeped.
"Excuse me," he muttered.
It was Mitzi. "Gregg, I've got Calazar on the line."
"I'll be right there." Caldwell did his best to look apologetic. "Sorry, but I'm being called." He turned his head as he hurried away, still holding the phone in his hand. "I'm sure Amelia will be happy to answer your question."
He walked through the door of the outer office bearing its sign, no admittance, and closed it behind him. "What's up?" Mitzi gestured to a screen showing Calazar at the far end of the Thurien link. Caldwell pivoted it to face him fully. "Hi, Byrom." Caldwell was up to date on the news, of course.
"Gregg. How was your social day?"
"Almost over. I noticed that none of the administrators who dreamed it up were here to help deal with it. Anyway, what's new?"