The appeal of the assignment was enhanced by the fact that Tsiolkovsky was located on the far side of the Moon. The Earth would never rise over the Array.
None of this should be construed to suggest that Coldfield was a misanthropist. He most definitely was not. In fact he liked people, felt he had been fortunate in his acquaintances over the years, and made good use of the relay circuits to a dozen points on Earth to talk with old friends. The truth about him was complicated. It involved a degree of self-doubt, of discomfort with strangers, and a thoroughgoing dislike for crowds, combined with a genuine love for remote places and a strong meditative inclination. (He would never have admitted to the latter.)
The Tindle was to have consisted of one hundred eleven fully steerable antennas, each sixteen meters in diameter. They would occupy an area forty kilometers across, and be set on individual tracks ranging from eight to sixty meters long. The project was only two-thirds constructed, but the government had run out of money. No one seriously believed that it would ever be finished. But it added up to tens of thousands of moving parts, which had to be kept operational under extreme conditions. It would not have been correct to say there was always work, but repairs were needed often enough to justify Coldfield's presence.
The tasks were simple enough. When something went down, the systems isolated the problem for him, and usually all he had to do was trek out to the offending unit and substitute a microboard or a crystal.
He had even become involved in the operational side of the Tindle. Harvard-Smithsonian had requested his help in entering values directly into the machines, and had asked him in some cases to execute programs manually. Coldfield understood, despite his operators' denials, that they wanted to increase his contact with other people. He was the first person to come alone to the Array, and they were watching him closely.
He had passed the evening with a biography of Evelyn
Lister, who was enormously popular in her time, but who was now widely perceived as the architect of the catastrophic conditions which had overtaken and ultimately leveled the old United States. The biography showed no mercy, and it warmed Coldfield to read the attacks. He objected on principle to the powerful. Even when they were dead.
The Array was listening to OQ 172, a quasar ten billion light years out. Col.dfield took his work seriously, and had acquired some rudimentary astronomy. But he did not understand the peculiar significance of quasars, nor could he make much out of the analytical readouts. Still, he knew it had something to do with creation. And he was curious about that. He had grown up in a family of religious skeptics. But, on the back side of the Moon, the supernatural seemed very possible.
The brief chime of the commlink startled him. He swung away from the windows, stabbed the receiver. "Coldfield."
Michael Surina's image blinked on. "Hello, Alex. How are you doing?" Surina was the project coordinator. He made it a point to call once a day. His concern for the Big Array's lone inhabitant both warmed and touched its subject.
"Fine," Coldfield said.
"No problems?"
There was a coupling that needed replacing on No. 17, and the plumbing in one of the bathrooms was backing up. (He had three.) But there was nothing that could be described as a problem. "Negative, Mike. Everything's quiet."
"Okay. We're changing the program, so don't be surprised when things start to happen."
"What's going on?"
"We want to listen to a new target. A series of new targets."
"When?"
"We'll wrap up the quasar exercise in a little over six hours. At 1922 Zulu. Then we're going to adjust the entire schedule. The operation will take several days."
"Several days! There'll be hell to pay."
"Doesn't matter. We'll do it."
"What are we going to tell McHale and Abrams and the rest of them? They've been waiting a year and a half for their time."
"We're taking care of it. You won't have to deal with them at all."
"Damn right I won't." Surina was young, but would probably irritate too many people to move up. Now he sat watching Coldfield, and his expression implied that he understood, but that Alex knew how bureaucracies were. It's no concern of ours if they screw up, his eyes said. Naturally, on an open link he wouldn't make those sentiments overt. "This is a hell of a way to run an operation, Mike," said Coldfield.
Surina shrugged. "Somebody at the Academy is pulling strings, and favors are owed."
Naturally. Surina could say what he liked, but Abrams and the others would bitch at him. "What kind of targets?"
"Short range. Local stars. You're going to do a search for patterned radio signals."
That was unusual. The Tindle had never, to his knowledge, examined anything closer than the galactic core. "Why?" he said. "What are we looking for?"
"LGMs."
"Beg pardon?"
"LGMs. Little green men."
THE WORLD REVIEW COMMENTARY
The European Commonwealth is informally floating a proposal that we announce our presence to the inhabitants of the earthlike world Inakademeri, and begin negotiations with a view to assisting the natives technologically, and to securing territory which would serve as a homeland for populations of undeveloped nations.
This may be an idea whose time has come. Inakademeri is sparsely populated, wracked by global war, depleted of natural resources. The «Noks» need help. In fact, there are groups among them who claim to know of our presence, who say they have seen our aircraft and shuttles. Whether in fact they have is of no consequence. What is significant is that these unfortunate creatures, who think we may exist, literally pray for our intervention.
There would be some inconveniences. Settlers would have to become accustomed to an eleven-hour day/night cycle. The climate on the whole tends to be wetter than ours. But it is livable.
Biosystems on Nok are sufficiently like our own that we could subsist quite well on that world's food supply. It may well be that we have a second Earth available, that we need not wait decades for Quraqua to develop.
The World Council should give careful consideration to this proposal. If no more serious objections exist than those already advanced, it should be approved, and action taken within the shortest possible time.
— "The Observer"
Wednesday, January 26, 2203
Carson called her in on her birthday, February 1. "It's Beta Pacifica," he said.
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