“Oops. Sorry, ma’am. Anyway, I was, uh… hanging out here… uh, just bullshittin’ with Wurly—”
Crow said, “Sandy…”
“Ah, sorry again, ma’am. For the language. Anyway, I thought of a couple of questions that nobody else has asked, and I asked them, and I thought I better get the answers back to you.”
Fang-Castro said, “Do you want to share the answers with us, Mr. Darlington, or do you plan to continue bullshittin’?”
“No, ma’am.” The toothy smile again. “I asked, ‘Wurly, when you said we get eight memory modules and eight readers, did you mean, we, from the ship here now? Or did you mean we, as a species?’ Wurly said, ‘You, as a species. We have eight memory modules to dispense and eight readers.’ I asked, ‘Can’t you make more?’ and he said, ‘We do not have the facilities here to fabricate more, although we have the information to do so. Therefore, the number of physical readers allotted to one species is limited.’ Then I asked, ‘When you said we get up to eight points, is that for our species, or for this visit?’ He said that it’s for our species. If we want more, we have to go to a different depot, or wait sixty-four years, when we’ll become eligible again.”
Fang-Castro and Crow looked at each other, then Fang-Castro asked, “You mean… if the Chinese show up and ask for the memory modules and readers, they won’t get any? Nor will they be able to trade?”
“That’s what Wurly’s saying, ma’am. Then I thought, ‘You know, old Crow’s gonna want to run off with both the memory modules and the readers, and all the trade stuff, leaving the Chinese holding an empty bag. More than that, he’s probably gonna want to slap a chunk of C-10 on Wurly and blow the shit out of him—sorry again, ma’am—so the Chinese couldn’t even find out what we’d done.’ So I asked Wurly if there were more Wurlys, and there are. It will take them ten hours to bring out a replacement, plus all the other computers can act as Wurlys if necessary. So we probably can’t go around blowing them all up, even if we knew they wouldn’t retaliate. Bottom line is, we’ve got all the hardware.
“They could get instructions for the reader, and maybe even the information that’s on the memory modules, through Wurly, but it would take them forever. I asked how long it would take to download all the QSU information through our I/O, and Wurly said it would take two hundred and twelve years. The Chinese can get the basic science over the I/O link. Hell, a lot more than basic science. But the complete manufacturing and engineering specs? Those’re on the QSUs.
“But here’s the key thing: Wurly answers all questions that he knows the answer to. If we run off with everything—the Chinese are going to find out. All they have to do is ask.”
Fang-Castro said, “Mr. Darlington, stay where you are. I’m going to run this by the brain trust, and see if there are more related questions for your old pal Wurly. Oh, and we’ll get Santeros and her people off their asses.”
Sandy said, “Ma’am, as you know, I served in a military intelligence unit…”
“Yes, I have been briefed on that.”
“Mr. Crow believes there is a spy on board. Or at least, believes it’s possible. I would suggest that you, mmm, hold this information very tightly. You need to know it, and Mr. Crow needs to know it, but if there’s a spy, and you talk to your brain trust, the spy is going to hear about it. I don’t think that would be good—though, of course, it’s your call, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darlington.” She went silent for a moment, looked at Crow, who raised an eyebrow.
Then: “I think perhaps you’re right, Mr. Darlington. We will hold this to the three of us.”
47.
Zhang contemplated the surveillance vid playing on the bridge’s main screen. The American survey team had departed the artificial planetoid that appeared to be the primary alien base. They’d been making daily visits for as long as the Celestial Odyssey was close enough to observe them. Presumably the Americans had started sending over teams as soon as their ship had settled into position.
Zhang had positioned the Odyssey on the far side of that body from the Nixon but much closer in, just fifty kilometers from the alien base. Zhang could appreciate the Americans’ caution; they were the first ones to approach this enigma. He recalled an Americanism—the first pioneers were the ones with the arrows in their backs.
That was a benefit of being second on the scene: now Zhang knew that the aliens wouldn’t instantly initiate hostilities. In fact, given the repeated visits of the survey team, it appeared that they wouldn’t engage in hostilities at all. Further, it appeared, the Americans had found something worth making repeated trips for.
At this close distance, surveillance probes weren’t even required; not on this side of the planetoid, anyway. The ship’s telescopes could resolve centimeter-sized objects on its surface. First Officer Cui had joked, “From here, if they wave at us, we can tell if it’s a friendly greeting or if they’re giving us the finger.”
Nobody had waved. Until now, it had looked like the Americans were entirely ignoring the Chinese, continuing their predictable routine of visits. The new vids, though, showed a second shuttle vehicle arriving at the planetoid just as the survey team was about to depart. It landed and deployed four people, who took up stations in pairs at the landing pad and the access port to the planetoid.
Thanks to that centimeter-scale resolution, the vid clearly showed that all four were armed. It appeared that the Chinese presence was being acknowledged.
Cui pushed for a confrontation. “Sir, the Americans can’t lay unilateral claim to the planetoid. It violates the Law of Space Treaty. Not even considering that in all likelihood there are intelligent beings in that planetoid, with their own sovereignty. We need to press the issue.”
“Mr. Cui, before relying on space law to back your outrage, you might wish to recall that our original mission was to establish a sovereign colony on Mars. Also, this planetoid falls below the ten-kilometer limit for sovereign territory. While its resources must be shared, to some degree, any party can lay claim to it for such things as exploitation of mineral rights. I don’t believe we have a lot of legal push.
“Now, the local sovereignty issue, there may be something to that.” He thought a moment. “We don’t even know what the aliens’ desires are in this matter. They might be entirely happy having more than one group of humans visit them. They might have means to enforce those wishes, regardless of those of the Americans. We will send a party over. A diplomatic party. Let us see if we are welcomed.”
“Sir! May I volunteer to lead the party?”
Zhang shook his head. The last thing a possible first contact with aliens—and a definite contact with probably-antagonistic Americans—needed were the diplomatic talents of someone as temperamental as his first officer. He kept those thoughts to himself. Instead, he said, “Mr. Cui, I really need you here, capable of making on-the-spot decisions for the ship. Furthermore, we know nothing about the aliens, but it’s possible they might take umbrage if approached by less than the highest-ranking entity. This task falls on me.”
More importantly, he thought, I’m less likely to get us into a dustup with the Americans. Beijing had been clear to him on that point: keep the aliens’ knowledge out of the hands of the Americans at all costs… short of starting the next superpower war.
Two hours later, a short-haul tug departed from the Celestial Odyssey with five space-suited crew. A fifty-kilometer run didn’t require anything like the shuttle, and Zhang didn’t want to risk it on so uncertain a mission. Really, prudence dictated that he shouldn’t be there at all.