Seymour shook his head. "As far as I know we've got nothing out there, and the Aussies haven't told us anything."
"Well, sir, there's a very high-power transmitter out there and until we get it off the air, we're not going to pick up anything in a twelve-degree arc from the horizon."
Seymour ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. "I'll get a helicopter up. If it's that strong they ought to pick it up pretty quickly and get it shut down. Contact Goddard and inform them of the situation." Seymour left the room.
Spurlock cleared the computer and accessed the direct satellite modem link to the Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland.
<GSFC, THIS IS DSCC 14. WE' VE GOT COMPLETE SYSTEMS OVERLOAD HERE FROM A TRANSMISSION AT 223 DEGREES AND AN ARC OF PLUS 12 FROM ZERO ON THAT AZIMUTH. WE'RE LOSING OUR DATA AND REQUEST THE OTHER STATIONS PICK UP THE DOWN LINK.
There was a long pause-much too long. Spurlock grew worried and repeated his message. The reply was not what he had expected.
<DSCC 14, THIS IS GSFC, WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING?
Before he could react, a new message from Maryland appeared.
<DSCC 14, THIS IS GSFC REPEAT. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WE'VE GOT REPORTS FROM ALL STATIONS OF HIGH-FREQUENCY TRANSMISSIONS ORIGINATING FROM AN UP LINK FROM YOUR AREA.
Spurlock reflexively checked his screens.
THIS IS DSCC 14. WE ARE NOT TRANSMITTING. REPEAT. WE ARE NOT TRANSMITTING. ALL OUR RECEIVERS ARE ALSO OVERWHELMED BY THIS WHEN THEY ALIGN IN THE INDICATED DIRECTION.
< WHO IS SENDING, THEN? WE'VE GOT IT COMING DOWN OFF METEOR BURSTS ALL OVER THE PLANET AIMED AT SPECIFIC LOCATIONS. ARE YOU GUYS PLAYING A GAME?
< NEGATIVE, GSFC. WE ARE NOT, REPEAT, NOT TRANSMITTING.
Spurlock paused and rechecked the other screens and the dish alignments. He tapped the keyboard.
<WE'RE RECEIVING FROM THE GROUND, NOT THE SKY.
A new message from Goddard Space Center.
<DSCC 14, THIS IS THE 6SFC COMMANDER. I DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF GAME YOU PEOPLE ARE PLAYING, BUT WE'RE GETTING IT ALL ON TAPE AND WE'RE GOING TO FIND OUT WHAT IS HAPPENING.
Spurlock typed in another rebuttal with sweaty fingers.
<THIS IS DSCC 14. WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS. IT IS HITTING US TOO. I WILL FORWARD OUR TAPES AND COMPUTER PICKUPS FOR YOUR VERIFICATION.
The person on the other end seemed slightly mollified but more confused.
<ROGER THAT, DSCC 14. WE'LL CHECK IT OUT. THAT TRANSMISSION IS GOING ALL OVER THE PLACE IN TIGHTLY CONTROLLED BEAMS. WE'VE GOT MULTIPLE DOWN LINKS AND INTELSAT SAYS THE UP LINK IS IN YOUR LOCATION OR CLOSE TO IT. IF YOU AREN'T SENDING, THEN WHO IS?
Spurlock turned and looked out of the large plate-glass windows at the eight dishes and then beyond that to the beginnings of the Simpson Desert that stretched westward for almost a thousand miles. As if drawn by a string his eyes looked upward at the pollution-free air.
Something out there in the desert was sending a message, but what? What had the capability to overwhelm their receivers here at DSCC 14 on the ground and at the same time bounce radio waves off the belt of meteors out in space and back to Earth? Spurlock knew that meteor burst was a capability that only the military used-it was the same as bouncing a message off a satellite except the military anticipated few satellites to be up there in case of an all-out conflict. Therefore in the late seventies they'd begun using the belt of meteors farther out in space for the bounce points. As far as Spurlock knew the Australians did not have the capability to do multiple messages with such power.
Spurlock slowly typed in his answer.
<GSFC, WE HAVE NO IDEA WHO OR WHAT IS TRANSMITTING. WE HAVE A HELICOPTER INVESTIGATING. WILL REPORT AS SOON AS WE FIND ANYTHING OUT.
Spurlock leaned back in his seat and stared at the screen. Whatever was transmitting this was powerful and very quick. No human hand could be sending that data without the aid of a computer. The figures danced in front of him, continuously changing. There was something about parts of the message that seemed tantalizingly familiar.
Spurlock went to work. He copied a portion and slowed it down, reading the figures, trying to make some sense. He attempted a few simple transfiguration codes. None worked.
Some of it looked almost like mathematical equations, but none that he'd ever seen. Another part had what appeared to be a rhythm. That last word stuck in Spurlock's mind and he tried something different. He fed a portion of the data into a different program on his computer.
Turning the volume up he ran the program.
He almost dropped his coffee cup when classical music, played at an extremely rapid beat, piped out of his computer. Why was someone sending out classical music in digital form on a frequency reserved for space communication?
The music suddenly changed into a country-western beat played at breakneck speed. Then rock. Then back to classical. Then it turned to unintelligible garbage.
Suddenly a mechanical voice spoke. It was speaking so quickly, he could understand none of what it was saying. Spurlock reran the tape, this time slowing it down so it was intelligible. The machine-generated voice rasped out of the computer.
"Dos vadanya. An yong haseo. Maasalama. Hello… " Spurlock listened amazed as numerous languages, most of which he couldn't even identify, whispered greetings.
It struck him suddenly. He spun around and raced over to the bookcase on the far wall, his eyes flashing along the shelves until he found what he was looking for: the master data binder on Voyager 2. He ran his finger down the index and turned to the appropriate page.
There was no doubt about it-he was hearing the record that had been placed on Voyager 2 being played back in digital form at high speed. But why was it coming from land to the west?
He had no more time to puzzle over the problem as an extremely perturbed Colonel Seymour burst in the door and stormed over to the radio in the room. Spurlock started to explain what he had found, but Seymour cut him off.
"Listen to this crazy son-of-a-bitch!" the colonel exclaimed as he turned the set on. He picked up the mike and keyed it. "Rover Two, this is DSCC fourteen. Repeat your message, please. Over."
"DSCC, this is Rover Two. I say again. I have located the source of the interfering transmission. It is two hundred miles from your location directly along the azimuth you gave us. We are hovering directly above. Over."
Spurlock frowned. "Why haven't they shut it down?" Seymour hissed at him to be quiet. "Tell me again where the source is located. Over."
"Ayers Rock. Over."
Spurlock frowned. Ayers Rock was the most spectacular of the three great tours of Central Australia, rising out of the desert floor as if some giant had accidentally dropped it there. Spurlock had visited it on a tour after he'd first arrived on station.
"You must mean someone on Ayers Rock. Over." Seymour shook his head at the idiocy of the helicopter pilot as he released the send button.
"Negative. I mean Ayers Rock. I've got my skids less than ten feet above the top of this damn thing and that signal is coming out of solid rock directly below me. The needle is off the gauge on my receiver. I don't know what is going on, but something inside the rock itself is sending you a message. Over."
THE PLAYERS