After the discoveries of first the Lunarians and then the Ganymeans, the notion that other races besides Man had evolved to an advanced technological level was firmly accepted. But this was something different. Just five miles away from them was not some leftover relic from another age or the hulk of an ancient mishap. There was a functional, working machine that had come from another world. Right at that moment, it was under the control and guidance of some form of intelligence; it had been maneuvered surely and unhesitatingly to its present orbit and it had responded promptly to 15’s signals. Whether it contained occupants or not, these events added up to the first-ever interaction between modern Man and an intelligence that was not of his planet. The moment was unique; however long history might continue to unfold, it could never be repeated.
Shannon stood in the center of the bridge gazing up at the main screen. Hayter was standing beside him, running his eye over the data reports and other images being presented on the row of auxiliary screens below it. One of them showed a view of Gordon Storrel, the deputy mission director, standing by in the emergency command center with his own staff of officers. The outgoing signal to Earth was still operating, carrying complete details of everything that happened.
“Analyzers have just detected a new component,” the communications officer called out frdm his station on one side of the bridge. Then he announced a change in the pattern of signals being picked up from the alien craft. “Tight-beam transmission resembling K-Band radar. PRF twenty-two point three four gigahertz. Unmodulated.”
Another minute or so dragged endlessly by. Then, another voice: “New radar contact. Small object has separated from alien ship. Closing on 15. Ship maintaining position.”
A wave of alarm, felt rather than sensed directly, swept over
the observers on the bridge. If the object was a missile there was little that they could do; the nearest ramship was fifty miles away and would require half a minute, even under maximum acceleration, to intercept. Captain Hayter did not have time to juggle with arithmetic.
“Fire Ram One and engage,” he snapped.
A second later the reply came to confirm. “Ram One fired. Locked on target.”
Beads of perspiration showed on some of the faces staring at the screens. The main display had not yet resolved the object, but one of the auxiliary screens displayed a plot of the two large vessels and a small but unmistakable blip beginning to close the gap between them.
“Radar reports steady approach speed of ninety feet per second.”
“Ram One closing. Impact at twenty-five seconds.”
Shannon licked his dry lips as he scanned the data on the screens and digested the flow of reports. Hayter had done the right thing and placed the safety of his ship above all other considerations. What to do now was a problem that lay solely with the mission director.
“Thirty miles. Fifteen seconds to impact.”
“Object holding course and speed steady.”
“That’s no missile,” Shannon said in a tone that was decisive and final. “Captain, call off the interception.”
“Abort Ram One,” Hayter ordered.
“Ram One disengaged and turning away.”
Long exhalations of breath and sudden relaxing of postures signaled the release of the tensions that had been building up. The Vega streaking in from deep-space made a shallow turn that took it into a pass at twenty miles’ distance and vanished once more into the infinite cosmic backdrop.
Hunt turned to Danchekker, talking in a low voice, “You know, Chris, it’s a funny thing. . . . I’ve got an uncle who lives in Africa. He says there are some places where it’s customary to greet strangers by intimidating them with screams and shouts and brandishings of spears. It’s the accepted way of establishing your status.”
“Perhaps they regard that as no more than a sensible precaution,” Danchekker said drily.
At last the optical cameras distinguished a bright speck in the middle-distance between 15 and the alien ship. A zoom-in revealed it to be a smooth, silver disk devoid of any appendages; as before, the view gave no clue of its true shape. It continued its unhurried pace until it was a half-mile from the command ship; there it came to rest and turned itself broadside-on to present a simple, unadorned egg-shaped proffle. It was just over thirty feet long and appeared to be of entirely metallic construction. After a few seconds it began showing a bright and slowly flashing white light.