“Thank you,” Fang-Castro said. She looked down—at a slate, Zhang thought—then continued. “The AI has established an I/O link on which to transfer this data. We have been accepting data for six days. The AI tells us the transfer of certain kinds of scientific information will be complete in two days. When it is complete, we will leave this station, and you will be free to access it. The reason we refuse access now, quite frankly, is that you frighten us. Our intelligence agencies tell us that you have a military crew—even your scientists have military status. We have very little military aboard, which creates a problem for us, as I’m sure you recognize.
“We are not refusing you access because we want to keep you away from the AI computer, but because we want to keep you away from our crew and the equipment we have on board the primary, and because we want to finish downloading the scientific information. If we allow you on board, we would essentially be at your mercy, since you can stay here longer than we can. So, that is our position. In two days, we will depart this station, and will leave it to you.”
She continued: “As an indication of our goodwill, we will further tell you that this station is a refueling depot for the alien ships, and also a trading station. We have asked the computer if we are allowed to trade, and have been told that we are. Trade values are assessed by an alien onboard computer. Each species is allowed to leave items valued at eight points by the aliens, and once we leave eight points in value, we will be allowed to take away alien items valued at eight points. We were granted a full eight points. This ship will take four points in value and we have indicated to the trade computer that you should be allocated the other four points and the computer has agreed that this would be appropriate. So, as a gift, we give you those points, in the hope that you will accept our difficult position with goodwill. We ask you to wait two days. Then, the station will be yours.”
Zhang said, “This will require some consultation. I am sorry that we frighten you, for I assure you, that is not our purpose here. We have questions, however, which our experts in Beijing will want answers to. Have you met the aliens?”
“No. There are no aliens here. The primary is a remotely controlled station that creates antimatter as fuel, and stores the antimatter in the fleet of smaller moonlets that accompany the station. Trade goods are exchanged purely through a computer-mediated barter system. Alien visits are extremely rare. We have found the onboard AI to be extremely forthcoming on all these matters, and our experts tell us this is so simply because the aliens have no reason not to be, and some reasons why this… position… may benefit them.”
“So the planetoid contains nothing but this cooperative AI and the trade goods?”
“That is correct. It’s essentially a warehouse. The I/O interface is complicated, but we have managed to establish one. If it had been simple, we would have already finished downloading the alien information, and would have gotten out of your way already. Since ours—American and Chinese I/Os—are compatible, and we will have no further use for our gear when we leave, we will leave our connection intact for your use, if you wish to use it.”
“Understood,” Zhang said. “I will return to my ship now for consultation, which will take some time. I will contact you when we finish.”
Fang-Castro said, “Captain Zhang, I would point out to you that if your consultations are anything like ours, this will take quite a long time, because of the light-speed lag. By the time they are done, there should be very little time left before the Nixon departs. Perhaps we could both suggest to our governments that slightly prolonged consultations on Earth… would obviate our problem. If they last long enough, the Nixon will be gone.”
Zhang said, “I will point this out.”
Fang-Castro: “Assuming that everybody sees the wisdom of that, I would tell you that the Nixon has excellent fabrication and repair facilities. If there is anything we can fabricate for you, or any repairs that we could assist you in, we would be happy to do so.”
“Thank you. We need to finish our assessment of the damage we have taken. I will call you personally if we have need of your aid.”
Back aboard the Celestial Odyssey, Zhang ordered the contact crew into a conference room, and called First Officer Cui to join them. The video of the encounter with the Americans was already on its way back to Earth, and now he said, “Feel free to speak your minds.”
Cui and Duan glanced at each other—the video of this conference would be on its way to Beijing as they spoke. Zhang said, “I’m serious about that. We need to plan our next move, and I want more than just the thoughts in my own head. We also need the thoughts of our experts back home, and quickly.”
Cui spoke first. “Sir, I think it was a mistake not to push the issue and attempt a landing. I do not think there is any doubt that the Americans were bluffing. They can’t afford to initiate an attack.”
Zhang shook his head. “Officer Cui, I am nowhere so free from doubt as you are. I believe your assessment is correct, but I also believe we both might be wrong. The consequences of an error in judgment are so severe that I want us to pursue all other options before we force a confrontation with the Americans. Be assured, I will force that as our last resort. Not as our first. We explore other options before we risk even the smallest, most unlikely possibility of… an international difficulty.”
“Sir?” Dr. Mo, the biologist, spoke up. “There is a great deal more to this complex than the planetoid that the Americans have sequestered. There are myriad smaller moonlets that are clearly alien constructions, and uncountable numbers of small autonomous spacecraft traveling between them and the rings and the planetoid. The Americans can’t be everywhere at once.”
“True,” interjected Cui, “and the Americans have no force of authority beyond a physical presence. They could order us away, but they would have no means of backing up their order. They would never risk initiating an attack by their ship on ours. Their vessel is obviously fragile, it’s a flying bundle of twigs. Even our light armament could permanently disable it in a matter of minutes. Their poorest tactician would understand this.”
“That, I entirely agree with,” replied Zhang. “Still, they may devise some kind of a response. We may not get more than one chance at this. Do we just pick a target at random? I’d rather spend that chance on better than the flip of a coin.”
“I have a suggestion.” Dr. Gao, the astrophysicist, looked at her data slate. “Our instruments picked up low levels of radiation from many of the moonlets. I mean really low, nothing that would be hazardous to people, not even with prolonged exposure. But the interesting thing is that some of the spectra show a slight energy spike at 511 KV. That means positrons. Antimatter. Not much, just a handful of particles, but something has to be generating those positrons. That technology has to be associated with this antimatter storage that Fang-Castro spoke of. If we should go examine one: it would establish our right to work among the alien artifacts, and there’d be nothing the Americans could do to prevent it.”
Zhang punched through to Comm: “Put a chart of the planetoid and its accompanying fleet on the conference room screen.”
The map popped up a moment later, a complicated skein of artifacts encircling the planetoid, the moonlets flying in a steady formation, other, smaller ones moving between the moonlets and the rings.
“There’s the one we want,” Gao said, tapping one of the smaller vehicles, which was moving toward the nearest of the moonlets.
Zhang turned to the political officer. “Mr. Duan, do you see any aspects of this plan which conflict with our orders from Beijing?”