CRADLE OF SATURN BY JAMES P. HOGAN

“Kronia’s future doesn’t need any assurance from Earth,” Gallian fumed from behind the table, where he had finally been induced to sit down. “That’s a pernicious myth that—”

“Please let Dr. Keene answer the question,” Voler requested.

Keene’s patience was getting close to its limit. “Yes, it’s true,” he replied curtly. “So what? Exactly what are you suggesting?”

Voler straightened up and moved forward so that while still addressing Keene, he was facing the auditorium. He raised the piece of imitation tablet aloft again. “Why was the specimen only delivered two days ago? The Osiris has been here for almost four weeks. Did somebody somewhere imagine that thorough physical tests wouldn’t be possible in that time? If so, they must be getting desperate. Or was it more a case of simple naiveté and inexperience in terrestrial geology?”

By now, Keene was totally flummoxed. “Look, I don’t . . . What is this? Will you just tell us what—”

Voler’s voice resounded suddenly, cutting him off. “By every test of composition, chemistry, isotope ratios, spectral, neutron activation, and thermoluminescent analysis to which it has been subjected, the original specimen corresponding to this replica that I am holding in my hand is indistinguishable from Lower Cretaceous sandstone laid down here, on our own planet, approximately one hundred and thirty million years ago. Yet we’re told it was found eight hundred million miles from Earth on a moon of Saturn. Now, how could that possibly be?”

“I . . . I . . . That’s not possible.” Keene shook his head.

The Kronians were in consternation. “But we brought them here ourselves,” Gallian insisted. “Your analyses can’t be as specific as you believe them to be.”

Voler nodded and looked pleased. “Yes, I was waiting for that. Of course, the Solar System is just awash with oceans that could have laid down sandstone. Or are our experts supposed to be so inept that they mistake igneous lavas for sandstone? But fortunately, we don’t have to rely solely on the word of our geologists. The script that I alluded to has been identified. It turns out to be a version of late Joktanian angular, clearly related to that found in the region of southwest Arabia and the African Horn in recent years, which is yet to be deciphered. In short, there can be no doubt that it came from the same planet that we are standing on, and the people who carved these symbols were of a culture that existed here and not out at Saturn.” Voler turned to face the dais again, finally. “And how, Dr. Keene, do you explain that?”

Keene couldn’t. Snippets of what Vicki had said flew disjointedly through his mind, but he was unable to assemble them into anything coherent. His thought processes had seized up. Farther along at the table, Gallian was looking dazed. “But how could it have?” he asked. “We brought them here ourselves, from Saturn.”

“From the same place as the probe data, maybe?” Voler suggested, stopping short of openly jeering but evidently enjoying himself.

“Are you trying to suggest that we faked that too now?” Gallian gasped. By now, the whole floor was listening in disbelief. The reporters at the back were having a field day, some already muttering into phones. At the central table, Schatz was shaking his head despairingly. This was unprecedented.

“I’m simply asking how objects from Earth could turn up on a moon of Saturn,” Voler replied. He walked back to the center table and set the tablet down on the wrapping that he had removed. Then he looked up again. “But then, of course, we don’t actually have independent, verifiable evidence that they ever were at Saturn, do we?” He turned to look back at the Kronians, as if half expecting an outburst. “The only indisputable fact is that they were brought down from the Osiris two days ago by the shuttle that returned a group of Kronians to the surface after spending a rest period up there. Everything else that we are told rests totally on assurances—just as with the data from the probes.” Gallian started to rise again, his face crimson beneath his white hair. Vashen and Sariena pulled him back down, but then Voler turned away abruptly, picked up some papers from the table, and moved back to the front of the floor to look once more up at Keene. “And for that one, simple, indisputable fact, I think maybe we do have a simple possible explanation. Do you not think so, Dr. Keene?”

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *