49.
With the Americans leaving, there was no particular reason to rush to the alien planetoid. A number of critical repairs were being completed on the Celestial Odyssey, and Zhang wanted them done before they were distracted by the larger mission. Too many people had already died because of problems with the ship.
The American printer and the extra supply of carbon fiber could be crucial to the effort: the maintenance crew, what was left of them, told Zhang that they could probably repair one of the badly damaged reaction-mass tanks.
They already had plans, the result of a flash-design program in Wenchang. They were also looking into the possibility of fabricating tankless tanks out of water-ice taken from the rings, that could be attached to the exterior of the ship, cut up with lasers, and fed into the internal tanks as those emptied on the way back. That was iffy.
Still, things were looking up.
Finally.
So they took it slow.
Wenchang ground control was understanding; the politicians, less so. The Americans carried on board a very effective and attractive female propagandist who had given the alien information-bot a cute name, which had inspired a number of retail efforts and three copyright and patent lawsuits. She had also subtly and with humor created the impression that the Americans were the generous, idealistic ones, even providing the Chinese with repair equipment. The Chinese had no answer to that: their own trained propagandist had been off-loaded at Earth, part of the weight-reduction program when the ship was being stripped for speed.
Beijing pressed for action. Since the Americans had investigated only the primary, the Beijing brain trust suggested that Zhang’s crew investigate the rest of the constellation of alien artifacts, as well as the planetoid.
The thinking went like this: Zhang’s crew should gain access to one of the moonlets, taking care not to interfere with its operation, while collecting as much data as possible. If the Americans were to be believed, there would be no aliens there—but then, the Americans hadn’t looked.
If there were aliens aboard the moonlets, let the anthropologists and the diplomats do their job. The military was absolutely not to engage unless they were attacked first and retreat was impossible. First Contact was worth a few human lives.
Absent an alien presence, they should pursue a secondary, and more aggressive, goal. The alien facilities deployed uncountable numbers of small autonomous spacecraft. Some of them scavenged Saturn’s rings, apparently for water ice, and brought it back to some of the moonlets. Others shuttled between moonlets. They appeared to lack armament, or even much in the way of tools.
Ground-based analysis suggested that they were simple collection and transport devices—but however simple they were, they deployed alien tech. The large number of such craft, their small size, and their swarm-like behavior, strongly argued that they were not individually important.
They were the station’s equivalent of ants foraging in the grass. The analysts also guessed one ant would not be particularly missed, as long as the rest of the hill was not disturbed. Capture an ant, preferably alive rather than dead, but either way, get one aboard a tug and get the tug and its treasure back to the Celestial Odyssey.
Because the Americans would be periodically watching the Chinese activity around the alien planetoid, it would be best if they never got a hint that one of the ants had been captured. The ant, after all, would probably become the major piece of alien tech actually back on Earth.
After two days of repair work, Zhang signaled to Beijing his willingness to move toward contact. It seemed little enough to get the politicians off his back, especially since the repairs were going well. He directed Cui to draw up plans for two contact parties, one to investigate the planetoid, the other to look at the rest of the constellation.
Cui: “Sir, I would request that I be allowed to lead the first contact to the planetoid.”
Zhang said, “I was thinking of doing that myself. However, you may be right: we need decisive short-term thinking there, rather than a more leisurely process. Put yourself down to lead the planetoid team. What about the other team?”
Cui leaned almost imperceptibly toward Zhang and lowered her voice just a notch. “Sir, thank you for allowing me this opportunity. For the other team leader, I would suggest Duan Me, as a way of forestalling, mmm, personnel difficulties.”
Zhang nodded: “Do that. Your recommendation suggests to me that you may actually have a future in the navy.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“How long will it take you to draw up your crew list and give me a prospectus on your investigations?”
Cui held up her slate. “Sir, I need to put my name at the head of the planetoid list. Otherwise, you could have it in ten seconds. As is, it will take me perhaps a minute to transmit it to you.”
“Excellent, Cui. You do that. I’m going down to the maintenance bay.”
Because the crew didn’t do just one thing at a time, Cui had managed to signal to the prospective members of her crew, and Duan’s, to make themselves ready for their separate missions.
There wasn’t much to do, other than to check the EVA suits and vehicles. Cui would take the tug to the planetoid: they had measured the extruded landing shelf and determined that the tug would fit.
Duan would take a separate group in the shuttle to investigate the antimatter storage units and the service modules known as ants.
They waited until the Nixon disappeared behind the bulk of Saturn, on one of its outward spirals, and launched the shuttle and the tug within minutes of each other. All communications would be deeply encrypted.
Cui took the tug directly into the landing shelf and put it down. Having watched the news broadcasts from the Nixon, they knew the process, and Cui led the crew members through the air lock, and into the main room.
Ahead of them, they saw a machine that resembled an old-time jukebox, such as those they’d seen in museums in Shanghai. Letters formed in the air above the jukebox, and without waiting for the Chinese script to form, Cui said, “We bring you greetings from the People’s Republic of China.”
The jukebox said, “Mandarin. I speak Mandarin. What do you wish to know?”
“Do you have anything to say to the people of China?”
“Yes.”
“What would that be?” Cui asked politely.
“Hello, people of China.”
Zhang watched the shuttle go with some apprehension. Duan was not impetuous, but she was terribly ambitious. An ant would be coming back with them, whether or not it wanted to. He was not sure that an ant was worth the risk. Duan had been told emphatically that she was not to insist, but Duan was ambitious.
Zhang went back to the bridge to watch.
The scopes and radar watched as Duan and the shuttle attempted to match speeds with one of the ants. If they could do that, they could simply pull the alien craft aboard, and bring it back. The ants, however, eluded the shuttle, apparently with an effective proximity control that steered them away whenever the shuttle got too close; and the ants were much more maneuverable than the Chinese craft.
After a few fruitless attempts, the shuttle moved on to investigate one of the moonlets. A few minutes later, there was a burst of traffic from Duan. “Arrived, no incidents. Unpacked. All fine.”