Hawkins wasn't going to give up so easily. "Maybe they've got it deployed on board their space station. That would remove any interference from the atmosphere."
Pencak gave a soft laugh. "You still prefer the enemy you know to the unknown, don't you?"
"I prefer it to worse-case scenarios," Hawkins retorted. "To me the worst case is if the Russians are behind the destruction of Voyager; the transmissions out of the Rock; and, ultimately, the use of those two nuclear bombs." He tapped a finger on the easel.
"The one common denominator that I can come up with is Russia."
Fran had to admit his logic made more sense than anything else they'd heard so far. She felt the jet lag of the long flight finally starting to kick in and she also sensed that they were spinning their wheels and going nowhere.
"You have no concept of what we might be dealing with, do you?" Levy asked rhetorically. "It's not like in the movies and on TV. An extraterrestrial civilization that could cross space to other star systems would most likely be of a magnitude we could not comprehend." She looked around the room. "Has anyone here ever heard of the three levels of civilization based on energy as postulated by the Soviet astronomer Kardashev?"
Seeing that no one was ready to reply, she continued. "Kardashev laid out three levels of civilization we here on Earth are at the first level, which is the burning of readily available fossil and planetary nuclear fuels. A level-two civilization would be one that could tap the energy of its star, which most scientists on Earth concede is the next logical step for us in the next millennium if we make it that far. Tapping in to a sun increases the power potential by trillions. A level three society would be able to tap the entire energy of the galaxy of which it is a part. That amount of energy is almost incomprehensible."
"All right," Hawkins said. "If this is a message generated by a non-Earth source, what level of civilization do you think is sending it?"
"Obviously a level-two civilization," she said. "Whoever it is must have interstellar travel and it is most likely a carbon-based life-form."
"Why do you say that?" Fran asked.
"Because of the frequencies-bouncing between fourteen twenty and sixteen sixty-two-the water holes of interstellar communication. The hydrogen line is at fourteen twenty megahertz and the first hydroxyl line is only two hundred forty-two megahertz higher at sixteen sixty-two. Between the two lies the quietest part of spectrum. But it also is quite interesting that it lies between the lines of the molecular building blocks of carbon-based life-water.
"In fact," Levy said, "I think that-" She paused as Major Spurlock and Lamb appeared in the doorway to the shelter.
"We've picked up a third transmission," Spurlock explained as he quickly made his way to the computer. "Just like the second one, except shorter."
He typed in some commands and then gestured for Levy. "You broke out the first one. See what you make of this."
The rest of the team gathered around as Levy sat down at the keyboard and her fingers flew over the keys. She kept the others up to speed as she worked. "It's in digital format, sliding up the scale, from fourteen twenty just like the second one. In fact, it is exactly like the second one, with a disappearing center."
She hit the return key. "Here's the initial part that I can decode." Her face lit up with a wide smile as four words appeared.
DEBRA COME TO US
"Great," Hawkins muttered, glancing at Lamb.
Lamb turned to Spurlock. "Can you confirm that message?"
In response Spurlock replaced Levy at the computer. After a few minutes the same words came up.
"What does it mean?" Fran asked. "How do they expect you to come to them?"
Levy shrugged. "They will provide."
"Still nothing on the middle part?" Lamb asked.
Levy shook her head. "It disappears."
Hawkins pressed a hand against his left temple. "How long until we're through to the chamber in the Rock?"
Lamb checked his watch. "Six or seven hours."
Fran stood. "I don't know about all of you, but I'm beat. We can sit here all day and speculate and argue, but until something happens we might as well get some rest. We're going to need it once they get into whatever is in the Rock."
As she left the operations tent she was surprised to find that Hawkins was right behind her. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested.
Together they walked along the top of the Rock, the summer heat rising off the pitted surface. Hawkins halted near the edge, where concertina wire blocked the drop. Out in the distance, on the desert floor, the camouflage nets of Tolliver's marines dotted the landscape.
"What do you think of Levy's theory?" Hawkins asked.
Fran sighed. "I don't know. I do know I can't offer a logical solution for all that's happening."
"Do you think Levy's lost it?" he asked, twirling a finger next to his head.
"Maybe. If we buy the aliens theory, why would they contact her and not any of the rest of us? It's all too weird."
"Maybe because she is the only who seems to believe," Hawkins mused. "What about Don?" he asked.
"What about him?
"He's on edge."
"He does seem pretty high strung," Fran admitted.
Hawkins's voice was sharp. "Is that a nice way of saying he's drying out? You worked with him in Hermes. Did he dry out there, too, or did they let him drink?"
Fran remained silent.
Hawkins finally sighed. "All right. I guess I'm on edge too. We've all done the best we can with what we have. It's hard on all of us." An explosion reverberated through the rock under their feet. "Hopefully, we'll get some answers when they break through," Hawkins said. "You're right in saying there's not much we can do at present. I just hate waiting."
That was the first time Hawkins had ever expressed a personal opinion in front of Fran. She sensed he was uneasy about something and wanted to talk. "Do you have any idea why the four of us were chosen?"
Hawkins shook his head. "None. And I'm not sure I agree with Don about his being here because he's a geologist. And why would I be chosen-a military man? I think there's something else involved."
Fran studied Hawkins's face in the bright sunlight. "I don't mean to pry, but you made a very odd comment in the mess hall back at DSCC 14 about your wife. You said-"
"I know what I said," Hawkins snapped. He turned from her and stared out into the desert for a long moment. Fran shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, not sure what to say.
"My wife's been in a coma for the past four years. She's essentially brain dead."
"I'm sorry," Fran said quickly. "I didn't mean to… well, I just wondered if…" She trailed off into silence, surprised to see what she could have sworn was a tear merge with the lines of sweat on Hawkins's face as he turned back toward her.
"No. You have a right to ask anything. We're all in this together." He sighed. "We were in a car crash. Hit the back of a semi that was stopped on the road."
"You weren't hurt?"
"No. I had my seat belt on. Mary didn't." There was a pause. "The next question most people ask is, who was driving?"
"You can't blame yourself, can you? It was an accident, right?"
Hawkins closed his eyes briefly. "Yes, it was an accident." He opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. "But do you think that makes any difference in how I feel?"
"You said she didn't need you," Fran remembered. "Is that true?"
"I don't know."
"Do you see her?"
"I visit every evening when I'm not deployed. She's in a government hospital. They keep her body alive." Hawkins eyes lost their focus. "Sometimes I wonder if there isn't some part of her still alive in there-something of who she was. The doctors say the damage was too extensive, but if you're alive, then who's to say? Who's to say she isn't trapped in there by a body that won't respond and by a brain that's been damaged and not killed?"