The Lure Part 10

Svetlana, at her terminal again, said in a startled voice, 'Oh, my goodness. Whats this?

11.

The Bishop and the Chorus Girl 'It can only be a hoax. I mean, what else can it be?

David Maddox, President of the Royal Astronomical Society, twirled spaghetti on to his fork. 'The genuine article?

Lord Sangster, Minister for Science, gave a sceptical smile. 'David, lets keep our feet on the ground here. Let me look at it again.

A red London bus roared noisily past the restaurant door. Maddox waited until it had pa.s.sed, and handed the paper over. 'It was securely encrypted.

'Not against our friends in the NSA, if they got to know of it. Sangster put down his fork and read the e-mail, carefully, for the fifth or sixth time: Dear Professor Maddox, (1) In my communication of three days ago I forewarned you that we may have picked up an intelligent extraterrestrial signal with our Tatras cave facility. I requested that crypta.n.a.lytic expertise be arranged in the form of Dr Thomas Petrie, whose abilities in this area are outstanding.

(2) He arrived yesterday, and after an overnight session confirmed my opinion that such a signal has, in fact, been received by us. We are in the process of identifying the source of the alien message.

(3) We have so far decrypted only a tiny fraction of the signal. The information to this point is of a biological nature.

(4) In accordance with the SETI League protocol, paragraph 2, I request that news of this discovery now be pa.s.sed on to HMG.

(5) Once we have identified the home planet, I will proceed to paras 3 and 4 of the protocol, hopefully within the next three or four days. As princ.i.p.al investigator, I claim the right to make the first public announcement.

Yours sincerely, C.T. Gibson Sangster looked up, glanced again around the shabby little restaurant, its walls studded with paintings of rural Tuscany, and dust-covered Chianti bottles along the shelves. Near the bar, at the far end, an old man was picking at a plate of fish soup. Two waiters elderly men with grey waistcoats and faces, napkins over arms were standing dutifully, looking like extras in The G.o.dfather. 'Whats your opinion, David?

'A SETI signal? And from an underground dark matter facility rather than a radio telescope? It hardly seems credible.

'Can we ignore it, then?

Maddox wrinkled his nose. 'Suppose we ignore Gibsons message and the signal turns out to be real...

Sangster said, 'The tabloids would crucify us.

'And if we declare the signal to be genuine and it turns out a mistake?

'The tabloids would crucify us, and come election time wed be laughed out of office. Sangster sipped at his Sicilian wine and made a face. 'Quite native, I would say. Tell me, David, this SETI League...

'A league of respected bodies, the International Academy of Astronautics chief amongst them, but their SETI protocols have no legal force. They want the state that discovers the signal to inform the Secretary General of the United Nations as well as the public and international community.

'But, as you say, the protocols have no legal force.

'No, Simon. I looked into this. They would have to be endorsed by the United Nations and that hasnt yet happened.

'So the game plan is still open. Sangster finished his spaghetti al sugo and looked thoughtful. 'Biological information, David. I dont like the sound of that, not one little bit. What sort of information?

'Maybe something about their life history, or panspermia. I really cant say.

His lordship said, reflectively, 'Fee fi fo fum, look out humans here we come. Coffee?

'No thanks, I ought to be getting back. Im chairing a meeting.

Sangster said, 'David, I think we have to be very careful with something like this. There are all sorts of things to be taken into consideration.

The RAS President looked at Sangster with a tinge of apprehension. 'What are you saying?

'Leave it with me. Ill get someone out there to check the whole thing from A to Z. Meantime, the tightest security is called for. n.o.body n.o.body must know about this.

'Youre not going to keep the scientists in the castle quiet for long.

'Quite, quite. Still, this dark matter operation is financed by my ministry through PPARC, which means that I have the ultimate say, even if I hardly knew the d.a.m.n thing existed a week ago.

'Simon, this is an issue for the whole of humanity. Its too big for the Whitehall secrecy mindset, standard issue. You cannot and should not put the lid on this.

Sangster gave an urbane smile. 'Youre out of date, David. We have an ethos of open government these days, havent you heard?

Maddox persisted. 'Try to muzzle this and the international scientific community will come down on you like a ton of bricks.

'Unless we succeed in muzzling it, in which case no one will ever know.

'I doubt if you have any legal authority for blocking this result.

'Legal authority? Sangster was still smiling. 'Im talking about moral authority. Although governments do have other means of persuasion. Funding is always difficult these days.

'Am I being blackmailed here?

'Goodness, lets not get draconian. But if this discovery is real it touches on matters which go far beyond mere scientific interest.

'Indeed, Simon. Such as whether were here for a purpose, how the existence of other life affects the great religions and our views about G.o.ds purpose and where we fit into it, how our future would be bound up by a civilisation far in advance of our own...

'Ask the Mayans or the Navajo what happens when the weak and strong come into contact.

'Thats human history. This could lift us out of that.

'We will not rush to the media. Decisions about this will be made by HMG, not by some naive academics round a table at this Academy of Whatsit. Sangster snapped his fingers, and one of the waiters jerked into motion. 'Security is the first priority. Well probably have to bring MI6 into this.

'What on earth for?

'All sorts of reasons, David, Sangster replied vaguely. 'Because we ought to make sure that communication with this castle is secure. Because we dont want our American cousins jumping the gun on this one. And after all, if these aliens exist, we are dealing with a foreign power.

'But look at what Gibson says here. Theyre about to activate paras three and four of the protocol.

'Which are?

'Theyll inform observers worldwide through the Central Bureau for Astronomical Telegrams, Commission 51 of the International Astronomical Union, and a dozen other bodies of that sort. And the Secretary General of the United Nations.

Sangsters eyelids half shut; to Maddox, he was now looking positively reptilian. His lordship murmured, 'Will they, indeed?

They made their way on to the pavement outside while the busy Piccadilly traffic roared past. An empty black taxi appeared and the Minister waved at it. It U-turned smoothly to a halt. Sangster opened its door and turned. 'Give you a lift?

'No, thanks. Im only going to Carlton House Terrace.

The Royal Society, Sangster thought. Full of d.a.m.ned chattering scientists. 'David, unless and until I say otherwise, you must forget about this whole business. Consider that to be an order. In the back of the taxi, he wound the window down. 'And we never had this conversation.

'Joseph? Sally Morgan here.

Joseph Pembroke could never quite hide the surge of pleasure he felt whenever he heard her voice. He had known Sally Morgan from the remote past, when his hair was long and her skirt, he remembered well, was short. She was a cheerful, pet.i.te high-flier in Christs College who could down a pint with the best of them. Her voice was twenty years older now, and its carefree tone was tinged with something he couldnt identify, but it still triggered distant memories picnics by the Cam, dangerous winter climbs in Glencoe, the Flying Club, and of course that unforgettable overnight berth in the ferry to Dieppe ... 'Good afternoon, Sally.

'Id like to speak to the PM, Joseph.

The Prime Ministers PPS pulled a large black desk diary towards him. He glanced at his watch it showed 3.40 p.m. before running a manicured fingernail down the afternoon schedule, pencilled in by Anne Broughton, the Diary Secretary, with a couple of entries made by one of the Garden girls.

'But you saw him this morning.

'Somethings turned up in the interval.

'And it cant wait until your next Wednesday session?

'No, I must see the Prime Minister today.

'Youre an audacious little minx. Pembroke said it lightly, but there was something in her voice. 'The PMs with Nicole at the moment, then hes straight into a session with Sir Crispin and the Foreign Secretary to discuss the Iraq campaign. Theres not a gap in his diary.

'What about the evening?

'Hes at the Guildhall dining with the Lord Mayor and the director of the new opera house, along with a.s.sorted actors and s...o...b..z types. Then he formally opens the opera house and sits through an evening of modern ballet.

'He doesnt strike me as a ballet lover, Joseph.

'I dont know which he loathes more: modern ballet or the Lord Mayor.

'Dear Joseph, who could take offence? Some day youll be stuffed and exhibited in the Victoria and Albert.

'Then hes back to Number Ten and, I a.s.sume, a stiff whisky and bed. I dont see how to squeeze you in.

'Youve never had any problem squeezing me before, Your Grace.

Pembroke laughed. It was a reference to The Bishop and the Chorus Girl, a bawdy undergraduate play in which they had played the princ.i.p.al parts. The nicknames had stuck for years.

'I have to see him. Again, that undertone in her voice.

'Maybe after he gets back. Ill have a word with him.

'Id be very grateful.

'Consider it done. Be in the Private Office at ten oclock tonight.

'Ill use the Garden entrance.

'By the way, Sally...

Cautiously: 'Umm?

'How grateful is "very grateful"?

The Head of MI6 gave a deep-throated chuckle. 'Oh sir, Oi be a simple country la.s.s.

12.

Icosahedron 'It must be their home planet. Svetlana was waving them over impatiently, her face lined with excitement.

There was a rush to her terminal, and a collective gasp. Shtyrkov laughed, shouted 'Ne figa sebe! and clapped his hands. Petrie, looking over her shoulder at the image, shouted, 'Wow! Wow! Wow!

The image was roughly spherical, like a dimpled ball. It was made up of thousands of tiny spheres touching each other. The little spheres were red, yellow or blue. Two enormous blue starry eyes stared at them, along with a big round blue mouth. The spherelets lining the eyes and mouth were yellow, making the face look as if it had yellow eyeshadow and lipstick.

'Its like the Man in the Moon, Svetlana said. She pressed some keys and the round head shook slowly from side to side, then nodded up and down. Finally it turned slowly through a full rotation, showing an upside-down face on the far hemisphere.

The terrain was deeply sculptured with canyons and mountains, the cavities being filled with the blue spherelets, the mountain peaks the red ones; the little yellow spheres occupied the middle heights.

'How did you do this?

'I just ran your program. I stacked the time slices as far as the next big gap in the flow.

'The little b.a.l.l.s are these my dots?

'No, Tom, its more complicated than that. There are hundreds of your dots inside each ball. But they were combined in just four basic ways, four patterns. So to simplify things, to get an image we could visualise, I replaced each pattern by a ball. Four patterns, four colours. I chose red, yellow, green and blue at random, and I expanded the b.a.l.l.s until they touched and thats what I got.

'Not bad for a wiring technician, Svetlana.

She smiled happily.

'But there were four colours, you said. Wheres the fourth? The green?

'Inside the planet. You cant see the green spheres.

'A planet with life needs water, Gibson a.s.serted. 'So the low areas are probably oceans. Blue was a lucky choice.

Petrie said, 'Six oceans, regularly s.p.a.ced, all the same size. It seems artificial somehow.