III South Island
10 First Contact Perhaps I should have broken it more gently, Moses Kaldor told himself; they all seem in a state of shock. But that in itself is very instructive; even if these people are technologically backward (just look at that car!) they must realize that only a miracle of engineering could have brought us from Earth to Thalassa. First they will wonder how we did it, and then they will start to wonder why. That, in fact, was the very first question that had occurred to Mayor Waldron. These two men in one small vehicle were obviously only the vanguard. Up there in orbit might be thousands – even millions. And the population of Thalassa, thanks to strict regulation, was already within ninety per cent of ecological optimum … ‘My name is Moses Kaldor,’ the older of the two visitors said. ‘And this is Lieutenant Commander Loren Lorenson, Assistant Chief Engineer, Starship Magellan. We apologize for these bubble suits – you’ll realize that they are for our mutual protection. Though we come in friendship, our bacteria may have different ideas.’ What a beautiful voice, Mayor Waldron told herself- as well she might. Once it had been the best-known in the world, consoling – and sometimes provoking – millions in the decades before the End. The mayor’s notoriously roving eye did not, however remain long on Moses Kaldor; he was obviously well into his sixties, and a little too old for her. The younger man was much more to her liking, though she wondered if she could ever really grow accustomed to that ugly white pallor. Loren Lorenson (what a charming name!) was nearly two metres in height, and his hair was so blond as to be almost silver. He was not as husky as – well, Brant – but he was certainly more handsome. Mayor Waldron was a good judge both of men and of women, and she classified Lorenson very quickly. Here were intelligence, determination, perhaps even ruthlessness – she would not like to have him as an enemy, but she was certainly interested in having him as a friend. Or better … At the same time, she did not doubt that Kaldor was a much nicer person. In his face and voice she could already discern wisdom, compassion, and also a profound sadness. Little wonder, considering the shadow under which he must have spent the whole of his life. All the other members of the reception committee had now approached and were introduced one by one. Brant, after the briefest of courtesies, headed straight for the aircraft and began to examine it from end to end. Loren followed him; he recognized a fellow engineer when he saw one and would be able to learn a good deal from the Thalassan’s reactions. He guessed, correctly, what Brant’s first question would be about. Even so, he was taken off balance. ‘What’s the propulsion system? Those jet orifices are ridiculously small – if that’s what they are.’ It was a very shrewd observation; these people were not the technological savages they had seemed at first sight. But it would never do to show that he was impressed. Better to counterattack and let him have it right between the eyes. ‘It’s a derated quantum ramjet, adapted for atmospheric flight by using air as a working fluid. Taps the Planck fluctuations – you know, ten to the minus thirty-three centimetres. So of course it has infinite range, in air or in space.’ Loren felt rather pleased with that ‘of course’. Once again he had to give Brant credit; the Lassan barely blinked and even managed to say, ‘Very interesting,’ as if he really meant it. ‘Can I go inside?’ Loren hesitated. It might seem discourteous to refuse, and after all, they were anxious to make friends as quickly as possible. Perhaps more important, this would show who really had the mastery here. ‘Of course,’ he answered. ‘But be careful not to touch anything.’ Brant was much too interested to notice the absence of ‘please’. Loren led the way into the spaceplane’s tiny airlock. There was just enough room for the two of them, and it required complicated gymnastics to seal Brant into the spare bubble suit. ‘I hope these won’t be necessary for long,’ Loren explained, ‘but we have to wear them until the microbiology checks are complete. Close your eyes until we’ve been through the sterilization cycle.’ Brant was aware of a faint violet glow, and there was a brief hissing of gas. Then the inner door opened, and they walked into the control cabin. As they sat down side by side, the tough, yet scarcely visible films around them barely hindered their movements. Yet it separated them as effectively as if they were on different worlds – which, in many senses, they still were. Brant was a quick learner, Loren had to admit. Give him a few hours and he could handle this machine – even though he would never be able to grasp the underlying theory. For that matter, legend had it that only a handful of men had ever really comprehended the geodynamics of superspace – and they were now centuries dead. They quickly became so engrossed in technical discussions that they almost forgot the outside world. Suddenly, a slightly worried voice remarked from the general direction of the control panel, ‘Loren? Ship calling. What’s happening? We’ve not heard from you for half an hour.’ Loren reached lazily for a switch. ‘Since you’re monitoring us on six video and five audio channels, that’s a slight exaggeration.’ He hoped that Brant had got the message: We’re in full charge of the situation, and we’re not taking anything for granted. ‘Over to Moses – he’s doing all the talking as usual.’ Through the curved windows, they could see that Kaldor and the mayor were still in earnest discussion, with Councillor Simmons joining in from time to time. Loren threw a switch, and their amplified voices suddenly filled the cabin, more loudly than if they had been standing beside them. ‘ – our hospitality. But you realize, of course, that this is an extraordinarily small world, as far as land surface is concerned. How many people did you say were aboard your ship?’ ‘I don’t think I mentioned a figure, Madame Mayor. In any event, only a very few of us will ever come down to Thalassa, beautiful though it is. I fully understand your – ah – concern, but there’s no need to feel the slightest apprehension. In a year or two, if all goes well, we’ll be on our way again. ‘At the same time, this isn’t a social call – after all, we never expected to meet anyone here! But a starship doesn’t delta-vee through half the velocity of light except for very good reasons. You have something that we need, and we have something to give you.’ ‘What, may I ask?’ ‘From us, if you will accept it, the final centuries of human art and science. But I should warn you – consider what such a gift may do to your own culture. It might not be wise to accept everything we can offer.’ ‘I appreciate your honesty – and your understanding. You must have treasures beyond price. What can we possibly offer in exchange?’ Kaldor gave his resonant laugh. ‘Luckily, that’s no problem. You wouldn’t even notice, if we took it without asking. ‘All we want from Thalassa is a hundred thousand tons of water. Or, to be more specific, ice.’
11 Delegation The President of Thalassa had been in office for only two months and was still unreconciled to his misfortune. But there was nothing he could do about it, except to make the best of a bad job for the three years it would last. Certainly it was no use demanding a recount; the selection program, which involved the generation and interleaving of thousand-digit random numbers, was the nearest thing to pure chance that human ingenuity could devise. There were exactly five ways to avoid the danger of being dragged into the Presidential Palace (twenty rooms, one large enough to hold almost a hundred guests). You could be under thirty or over seventy; you could be incurably ill; you could be mentally defective; or you could have committed a grave crime. The only option really open to President Edgar Farradine was the last, and he had given it serious thought. Yet he had to admit that, despite the personal inconvenience it had caused him, this was probably the best form of government that mankind had ever devised. The mother planet had taken some ten thousand years to perfect it, by trial and often hideous error. As soon as the entire adult population had been educated to the limits of its intellectual ability (and sometimes, alas, beyond) genuine democracy became possible. The final step required the development of instantaneous personal communications, linked with central computers. According to the historians, the first true democracy on Earth was established in the (Terran) year 2011, in a country called New Zealand. Thereafter, selecting a head of state was relatively unimportant. Once it was universally accepted that anyone who deliberately aimed at the job should automatically be disqualified, almost any system would serve equally well, and a lottery was the simplest procedure. ‘Mr. President,’ the secretary to the cabinet said, ‘the visitors are waiting in the library.’ ‘Thank you, Lisa. And without their bubble suits?’ ‘Yes – all the medical people agree that it’s perfectly safe. But I’d better warn you, sir. They – ah – smell a little odd.’ ‘Krakan! In what way?’ The secretary smiled. ‘Oh, it’s not unpleasant – at least, I don’t think so. It must be something to do with their food; after a thousand years, our biochemistries may have diverged. “Aromatic” is probably the best word to describe it.’ The president was not quite sure what that meant and was debating whether to ask when a disturbing thought occurred to him. ‘And how,’ he said, ‘do you suppose we smell to them? To his relief, his five guests showed no obvious signs of olfactory distress when they were introduced, one at a time. But Secretary Elisabeth Ishihara was certainly wise to have warned him; now he knew exactly what the word ‘aromatic’ implied. She was also correct in saying that it was not unpleasant; indeed, he was reminded of the spices his wife used when it was her turn to do the cooking in the palace. As he sat down at the curve of the horseshoe-shaped conference table, the President of Thalassa found himself musing wryly about Chance and Fate – subjects that had never much concerned him in the past. But Chance, in its purest form, had put him in his present position. Now it – or its sibling, Fate – had struck again. How odd that he, an unambitious manufacturer of sporting equipment, had been chosen to preside at this historic meeting! Still, somebody had to do it; and he had to admit that he was beginning to enjoy himself. At the very least, no one could stop him from making his speech of welcome … … It was, in fact, quite a good speech, though perhaps a little longer than necessary even for such an occasion as this. Towards the end he became aware that his listeners’ politely attentive expressions were becoming a trifle glazed, so he cut out some of the productivity statistics and the whole section about the new power grid on South Island. When he sat down, he felt confident that he had painted a picture of a vigorous, progressive society with a high level of technical skills. Any superficial impressions to the contrary notwithstanding, Thalassa was neither backward nor decadent, and still sustained the finest traditions of its great ancestors. Et cetera. ‘Thank you very much, Mr. President,’ Captain Bey said in the appreciative pause that followed. ‘It was indeed a welcome surprise when we discovered that Thalassa was not only inhabited, but flourishing. It will make our stay here all the more pleasant, and we hope to leave again with nothing but goodwill on both sides.’ ‘Pardon me for being so blunt – it may even seem rude to raise the question just as soon as guests arrive – but how long do you expect to be here? We’d like to know as soon as possible, so that we can make any necessary arrangements.’ ‘I quite understand, Mr. President. We can’t be specific at this stage, because it depends partly on the amount of assistance you can give us. My guess is at least one of your years – more probably two.’ Edgar Farradine, like most Lassans, was not good at concealing his emotions, and Captain Bey was alarmed by the sudden gleeful – one might even say crafty – expression that spread across the chief executive’s countenance. ‘I hope, Your Excellency, that won’t create any problems?’ he asked anxiously. ‘On the contrary,’ the president said, practically rubbing his hands. ‘You may not have heard, but our 200th Olympic Games are due in two years.’ He coughed modestly. ‘I got a bronze in the 1000 metres when I was a young man, so they’ve put me in charge of the arrangements. We could do with some competition from outside.’ ‘Mr. President,’ the secretary to the cabinet said, ‘I’m not sure that the rules – ‘ ‘Which I make,’ continued the president firmly. ‘Captain, please consider this an invitation. Or a challenge, if you prefer.’ The commander of the starship Magellan was a man accustomed to making swift decisions, but for once he was taken completely aback. Before he could think of a suitable reply, his chief medical officer stepped into the breach. ‘That’s extremely kind of you, Mr. President,’ Surgeon-Commander Mary Newton said. ‘But as a medperson, may I point out that all of us are over thirty, we’re completely out of training – and Thalassa’s gravity is six per cent stronger than Earth’s, which would put us at a severe disadvantage. So unless your Olympics includes chess or card games..’ The president looked disappointed, but quickly recovered. ‘Oh, well – at least, Captain Bey, I’d like you to present some of the prizes.’ ‘I’d be delighted,’ the slightly dazed commander said. He felt that the meeting was getting out of hand and determined to return to the agenda. ‘May I explain what we hope to do here, Mr. President?’ ‘Of course,’ was the somewhat uninterested reply. His Excellency’s thoughts still seemed elsewhere. Perhaps he was still reliving the triumphs of his youth. Then, with an obvious effort, he focused his attention upon the present. ‘We were flattered, but rather puzzled, by your visit. There seems very little that our world can offer you. I’m told there was some talk of ice; surely that was a joke.’ ‘No, Mr. President – we’re absolutely serious. That’s all we need of Thalassa, though now we’ve sampled some of your food products – I’m thinking especially of the cheese and wine we had at lunch – we may increase our demands considerably. But ice is the essential; let me explain. First image, please.’ The starship Magellan, two metres long, floated in front of the president. It looked so real that he wanted to reach out and touch it, and would certainly have done so had there been no spectators to observe such naive behaviour. ‘You’ll see that the ship is roughly cylindrical – length four kilometres, diameter one. Because our propulsion system taps the energies of space itself, there’s no theoretical limit to speed, up to the velocity of light. But in practice, we run into trouble at about a fifth of that speed, owing to interstellar dust and gas. Tenuous though that is, an object moving through it at sixty thousand kilometres a second or more hits a surprising amount of material – and at that velocity even a single hydrogen atom can do appreciable damage. ‘So Magellan, just like the first primitive spaceships, carries an ablation shield ahead of it. Almost any material would do, as long as we use enough of it. And at the near-zero temperature between the stars, it’s hard to find anything better than ice. Cheap, easily worked, and surprisingly strong! This blunt cone is what our little iceberg looked like when we left the solar system, two hundred years ago. And this is what it’s like now.’ The image flickered, then reappeared. The ship was unchanged, but the cone floating ahead of it had shrunk to a thin disc. ‘That’s the result of drilling a hole fifty light-years long, through this rather dusty sector of the galaxy. I’m pleased to say the rate of ablation is within five per cent of estimate, so we were never in any danger – though of course there was always the remote possibility that we might hit something really big. No shield could protect us against that – whether it was made of ice, or the best armour-plate steel. ‘We’re still good for another ten light-years, but that’s not enough. Our final destination is the planet Sagan 2 – seventy-five lights to go. ‘So now you understand, Mr. President, why we stopped at Thalassa. We would like to borrow – well, beg, since we can hardly promise to return it – a hundred or so thousand tons of water from you. We must build another iceberg, up there in orbit, to sweep the path ahead of us when we go on to the stars.’ ‘How can we possibly help you to do that? Technically, you must be centuries ahead of us.’ ‘I doubt it – except for the quantum drive. Perhaps Deputy Captain Malina can outline our plans – subject to your approval, of course.’ ‘Please go ahead.’ ‘First we have to locate a site for the freezing plant. There are many possibilities – it could be on any isolated stretch of coastline. It will cause absolutely no ecological disturbance, but if you wish, we’ll put it on East Island – and hope that Krakan won’t blow before we’ve finished! ‘The plant design is virtually complete, needing only minor modifications to match whatever site we finally choose. Most of the main components can go into production right away. They’re all very straightforward – pumps, refrigerating systems, heat exchangers, cranes – good old-fashioned Second Millennium technology! ‘If everything goes smoothly, we should have our first ice in ninety days. We plan to make standard-sized blocks, each weighing six hundred tons – flat, hexagonal plates – someone’s christened them snowflakes, and the name seems to have stuck. ‘When production’s started, we’ll lift one snowflake every day. They’ll be assembled in orbit and keyed together to build up the shield. From first lift to final structural test should take two hundred and fifty days. Then we’ll be ready to leave.’ When the deputy captain had finished, President Farradine sat in silence for a moment, a faraway look in his eye. Then he said, almost reverently. ‘Ice – I’ve never seen any, except at the bottom of a drink …’ * * * As he shook hands with the departing visitors, President Farradine became aware of something strange. Their aromatic odour was now barely perceptible. Had he grown accustomed to it already – or was he losing his sense of smell? Although both answers were correct, around midnight he would have accepted only the second. He woke up with his eyes watering, and his nose so clogged that it was difficult to breathe. ‘What’s the matter, dear?’ Mrs President said anxiously. ‘Call the – atischoo! – doctor,’ the chief executive answered. ‘Ours – and the one up in the ship. I don’t believe there’s a damn thing they can do, but I want to give them – atischoo – a piece of my mind. And I hope you haven’t caught it as well.’ The president’s lady started to reassure him, but was interrupted by a sneeze. They both sat up in bed and looked at each other unhappily. ‘I believe it took seven days to get over it,’ sniffed the president. ‘But perhaps medical science has advanced in the last few centuries.’ His hope was fulfilled, though barely. By heroic efforts, and with no loss of life, the epidemic was stamped out – in six miserable days. It was not an auspicious beginning for the first contact between star-sundered cousins in almost a thousand years.