That should get them some off-planet attention.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Finger on the Button
The observer did not understand the strange ring at the edge of the Solar System. The ring should have been perfectly familiar, its actions as familiar as the Observer’s own. Yet the stranger seemed to break every law, every control that should have been burned into its very being.
Why did it behave so strangely? Why did it orbit a frozen, useless world at the very borderlands of this system? Why did it not hide itself? Why, indeed, did it radiate wasted, dissipated power, advertising its presence? Hourly, the stranger permitted cumulative leakage greater than what the Observer had allowed in the last million years.
And in spite of the leakage, the stranger radiated uselessly small amounts of effective gravity power. Why did it do so with such clumsiness, such inefficiency?
So many things were quite unlike a proper ring. Only in its shape, size, and attempt to use gravity did the stranger truly resemble the Observer.
But the obvious conclusion that this was a new thing, unknown to the Observers heritage memory, never occurred to the Observer.
The Observer was congenitally incapable of asking the rather obvious question, Where did it come from? It knew, beyond any possibility of contradiction, that there was only one possible ultimate source for a gravity ring.
The Observer knew, to a certainty, that the mystery ring was at least in some degree akin to the Observer itself.
That was the error that wrecked its entire edifice of logic.
It assumed that this alien structure was of its own kind. But then why was the mystery ring so strange? Why were its procedures, its behavior so wildly unknown ?
The answer was suddenly clear, brought up from some ancient memory of a forebear lost to time.
The alien was a massively modified derivative model, a mutant. Built by a related or ancestral sphere system long, long ago.
That was the Observer’s second error.
On this was based its third error, which would, in time, send its entire universe reeling, and threaten a way of being millions of years old.
But for it, disaster was yet far off.
Earth was not as lucky.
“Well, Dr. Berghoff, it’s a pity we could only arrange such a late-night experiment time, but I think you have matters well in hand,” Dr. Webling said. “It should be a fairly straightforward experiment run. Quite routine. I think I might as well head on off to bed. I’ll be looking forward to seeing your results in the morning. I suppose we won’t have the last return signals from Earth until after lunchtime.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sondra said distractedly. She had her mind on other things than pleasantries.
“Treat yourself to that extra cup of coffee tonight,” Webling said playfully. “You’ll need it. Good night, then, Dr. Berghoff.”
“Good night, Dr. Webling.”
Dr. Webling cautiously eased her way out of the lab, as if she were afraid of a fall. A lot of the older scientists never did master the tricks of moving in low gravity.
Sondra watched the door close behind Webling and breathed a sigh of relief. She had thought the old girl would never get moving. She stood up and locked the door behind Webling. Sondra definitely did not want to be disturbed.
She glanced up at the main control display. Just four hours until the scheduled start of Webling’s experiment. Damn! Barely time to scrap the preliminary setup for Webling’s run and reset the center’s controls to replicate Larry Chao’s results. And there was no slack time in the system tonight, either. The other three control rooms were full and busy. Control Room One was running a test now, and Two and Three were waiting their turns to get command of the Ring. Sondra’s, Control Room Four, got its shot at the ring only after Three was done—and there was an experimenter already signed up for the 0300 slot in Control Room One.
Once she got command of the Ring, she would have an hour to make her run. No time to correct mistakes if she got it wrong.
Of course Webling would discover the change and see to it that Raphael handed Sondra her head the next morning, but that couldn’t be helped. Nor would it matter. After all, the station was shutting down. What could they do? Fire her?
This experiment run might well be her only chance to replicate Larry’s results. That was important.
Maybe others would try to duplicate his run, but this was her only shot at it. She couldn’t trust the cowering sheep-scientists of this place to take the risk of pursuing this line of inquiry.
Even if she had known for certain of other runs, she still would have had to know for herself that it really worked, that the million gees were really out there waiting to be controlled. That could happen only if she set the run herself, trusting no one else to get it right.
She sat down and started to adjust the controls, reprogramming the system to Larry’s specs. Larry’s notes were thorough and complete, but it was a highly complex setup. She almost immediately found herself getting wrapped up in the job. Working down there at the level of controls, of meters and dials, she began to understand Larry’s thinking. She had never been strong on theory— but hardware was something she could deal with.
She was so focused on the job she jumped nearly into the ceiling when the door chime sounded. Earth reflexes could be downright hazardous under such light gravity.
She punched the intercom switch. “Who… who is it?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. She glanced quickly at the control panel and allowed herself a reassuring thought. It would take an expert to tell she was cross-setting the system. Everything was fine. Nothing to worry about.
“It’s me, Larry,” a muffled voice replied. He was talking through the door rather than using the intercom. Was he afraid of Raphael bugging the place?
Sondra let her breath out, not even realizing that she had been holding it. The feeling of genuine relief that swept over her told Sondra how much she had been kidding herself a moment before. She stood up and unlocked the door.
Sondra knew she should not have been surprised that Larry had shown up. He had a brain, after all. He could look at a schedule sheet and know she’d be here. And she had offered herself as an ally—even if he had not immediately accepted the offer.
Larry stepped into the room and looked around thoughtfully. Sondra stepped back from him, more than a bit taken aback by his manner. There was something more determined, harder edged, more self-assured about him than there had been a few hours ago.
Larry went to the front of the control panel and glanced over the settings. “You’re halfway through dumping Webling’s run settings,” he announced. It was not a question.
“Ah, well, yes,” Sondra said, awkwardly fidgeting her hands. Well, here was the expert.
“Well, we’ve got to put it back,” Larry said.
“But I need to confirm your results,” Sondra protested. “That’s a hell of a lot more important than the graser right now.”
“Where are the gravity-wave detectors you’ll be sending to?” Larry asked.
There was something in his tone of voice that told her she had better give a direct answer. “Ah, Titan, Ganymede, VISOR—that’s the big Venus orbital station—and the Jet Propulsion Laboratory on Earth. Ten minutes of pulse sending to each. A millisecond pulse every second.”