“Important to the nation’s security?” Stoner echoed, incredulous. “How can ETI be…?”
“ETI?” Tuttle asked.
“Extraterrestrial intelligence,” Thompson explained. “Astronomical jargon.”
“Let’s not get carried away here,” McDermott rumbled. “All we’ve really got is these anomalous low-frequency radio signals and a few photographs showing what’s most likely a sixteenth moon of Jupiter.”
“Even if that’s all there is to it,” Stoner countered, icily, “we should publish the information. In Science. Or Nature. Before somebody else scoops us.”
The old man glowered from behind his pipe. Tuttle clasped his hands behind his back and stared at his shoe tops.
Stoner felt the glacial calm that always descended upon him when he grew angry. Very quietly he asked, “What in hell happened to freedom of speech around here? Whatever happened to Faraday’s dictum: ‘Physics is to make experiments and to publish them’?”
“I’m not going to put my reputation on the line for some radio pulses and a couple of photos!” McDermott blurted. “I’m not going to make a jackass of myself claiming that we’ve discovered ETI and then be forced to retract it all when it turns out to be completely natural.”
“Then publish what we’ve got,” Stoner said in a cobra’s whisper. “Forget the ETI conclusion, but at least let Jeff publish the radio pulses. He deserves that much. Get the priority. In print.”
Thompson’s eyebrows went up hopefully.
“The problem is this,” Tuttle took over again. “If there’s any chance at all that we have discovered extraterrestrial intelligence on the planet Jupiter, we’ve got to keep it confidential. It’s important to the national security.”
“How can intelligent life on Jupiter affect the national security?” Stoner asked.
Tuttle responded immediately, as if rehearsed. “If there is intelligent life on Jupiter, it must have a level of technology far ahead of our own to launch a spacecraft against a gravity field that’s much more powerful than Earth’s. We can’t allow other nations—Russia, China, others—to get their hands on that technology. We’ve got to make certain that the free nations of the West get it.”
Stoner felt his shoulders slump. “The same old shit,” he muttered.
Undeterred, Tuttle went on, “Moreover, we’ve got to consider the possibility that the Jovians, whoever they are, might not harbor peaceful intentions. Maybe they intend to…well, invade us.”
“Sure,” Stoner said. “Maybe all those flying saucers the UFO freaks have been seeing for the past thirty years are really scouts from Jupiter, checking us out before they come here to rape and pillage.”
“UFO’s do exist,” Tuttle said seriously. “And if there’s intelligent life on Jupiter…”
“I’m starting to wonder if there’s intelligent life on Earth,” Stoner snapped. He got up from the sofa and headed back toward the stairway.
“Dr. Stoner!” Tuttle called. “You can’t leave this house, you know.”
Stoner glanced back over his shoulder and saw that Dooley was scrambling out of the pool. He stopped and stood where he was, seething.
Thompson was suddenly at his side. “Come on, Keith. Sit down and hear them out. It’ll all work out, one way or another.”
Clamping his teeth together so hard that his jaw throbbed, Stoner went back to the living room with Jeff Thompson.
“What you’ve got to realize, sonny,” said McDermott once he was seated on the sofa again, “is that if you’re right, if we have found extraterrestrial intelligence, the implications are enormous. Enormous!”
“The social impact alone could be incredible,” Thompson agreed.
“And the psychological effects,” McDermott went on. “The religious effects!”
“And the military implications,” said Tuttle.
Stoner frowned at him.
“The gravity on Jupiter is more than three times higher than Earth’s, isn’t it?” the lieutenant commander asked.
“Not quite three,” Thompson corrected, “at the top of the cloud deck.”
“Okay,” Tuttle said. “But down below the clouds the gravity must be even stronger. Do you have any concept of the technology it would take to loft an artificial satellite against that gravity? And that spacecraft you found is in a very high orbit, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Stoner admitted.
“We couldn’t launch a satellite under those conditions. Take it from me, I know that for a fact.”
Grimacing, Stoner said, “And while we sit around here stamping everything Secret, some other observatory stumbles onto the radio pulses and publishes the data. So then where are we?”
“But we’re the only ones who know about the spacecraft,” Tuttle said, excitement shaking his voice. “Nobody else has access to Big Eye and nobody will, I can guarantee that!”
“But somebody else could beat us into print with the radio pulses,” Thompson said glumly.
McDermott shook his head. “Who? Haystack? Goldstone? They’re not working down below six hundred megahertz, the way we are.”
“What about Arecibo?” Stoner asked. “That’s the biggest radio telescope of them all, isn’t it? And Sagan’s connected with it. Him and Drake. They’ll be into print in ten seconds flat.”
“Get yourself an ephemeris,” said McDermott, smirking. “Arecibo can’t point anywhere near Jupiter for another four months.”
Stoner blinked and then remembered that the huge Arecibo radio telescope—a thousand feet across—was carved into a hillside and couldn’t be steered or aimed the way the smaller radio dishes were.
“But we owe it to the rest of the scientific community to let them know what we’ve found,” Stoner insisted. “It’s only fair…”
“I am not going to risk my reputation, or my observatory’s reputation, or the university’s reputation,” McDermott said, his voice steadily rising, “on the million-to-one chance that you’re right!”
Tuttle added, “And there is the pressing military necessity to keep this under wraps. You can understand that, can’t you?”
The hell I can, Stoner thought. But he said nothing.
“There’s one additional factor,” Thompson said. “Somebody overseas might have already picked up the pulses. The Australians, the Russians, Voorne at Dwingeloo…”
Tuttle nodded curtly. “We’re looking into that.”
“And what do we do in the meantime?” Stoner asked. “Go to Leavenworth and wait until the Navy decides it’s okay for us to return to work?”
“Nosir,” said Tuttle. “The radio telescope observatory will continue to work as normal. All the staff have signed security oaths, and we’ve briefed them all on the need to keep this information absolutely secret. You’ll have to agree, too.”
“No, I won’t,” Stoner said flatly. “I’m just a consultant on this job. NASA pays my salary, not the Navy.”
“Dr. Stoner, you are in the Air Force reserve. You could be recalled to active duty. This is an extraordinary circumstance. A real emergency.”
McDermott chuckled. “They’ll probably ship you to Greenland. Or maybe the South Pole.”
“If you co-operate,” Tuttle went on, “we’ll set you up right here, in this house. You’ll be incommunicado for a while, until we move the entire project staff to a more secure, government-owned facility.”
Stoner realized they had him; there was no use arguing.
Glancing at his wristwatch, Tuttle said, “Well, I’ve got to get back to Washington. Lots to do. Dr. Stoner, I hope you appreciate the seriousness of this situation.”