Saturn Run

47.

Zhang contemplated the surveillance vid playing on the bridge’s main screen. The American survey team had departed the artificial planetoid that appeared to be the primary alien base. They’d been making daily visits for as long as the Celestial Odyssey was close enough to observe them. Presumably the Americans had started sending over teams as soon as their ship had settled into position.

Zhang had positioned the Odyssey on the far side of that body from the Nixon but much closer in, just fifty kilometers from the alien base. Zhang could appreciate the Americans’ caution; they were the first ones to approach this enigma. He recalled an Americanism—the first pioneers were the ones with the arrows in their backs.

That was a benefit of being second on the scene: now Zhang knew that the aliens wouldn’t instantly initiate hostilities. In fact, given the repeated visits of the survey team, it appeared that they wouldn’t engage in hostilities at all. Further, it appeared, the Americans had found something worth making repeated trips for.

At this close distance, surveillance probes weren’t even required; not on this side of the planetoid, anyway. The ship’s telescopes could resolve centimeter-sized objects on its surface. First Officer Cui had joked, “From here, if they wave at us, we can tell if it’s a friendly greeting or if they’re giving us the finger.”

Nobody had waved. Until now, it had looked like the Americans were entirely ignoring the Chinese, continuing their predictable routine of visits. The new vids, though, showed a second shuttle vehicle arriving at the planetoid just as the survey team was about to depart. It landed and deployed four people, who took up stations in pairs at the landing pad and the access port to the planetoid.

Thanks to that centimeter-scale resolution, the vid clearly showed that all four were armed. It appeared that the Chinese presence was being acknowledged.

Cui pushed for a confrontation. “Sir, the Americans can’t lay unilateral claim to the planetoid. It violates the Law of Space Treaty. Not even considering that in all likelihood there are intelligent beings in that planetoid, with their own sovereignty. We need to press the issue.”

“Mr. Cui, before relying on space law to back your outrage, you might wish to recall that our original mission was to establish a sovereign colony on Mars. Also, this planetoid falls below the ten-kilometer limit for sovereign territory. While its resources must be shared, to some degree, any party can lay claim to it for such things as exploitation of mineral rights. I don’t believe we have a lot of legal push.

“Now, the local sovereignty issue, there may be something to that.” He thought a moment. “We don’t even know what the aliens’ desires are in this matter. They might be entirely happy having more than one group of humans visit them. They might have means to enforce those wishes, regardless of those of the Americans. We will send a party over. A diplomatic party. Let us see if we are welcomed.”

“Sir! May I volunteer to lead the party?”

Zhang shook his head. The last thing a possible first contact with aliens—and a definite contact with probably-antagonistic Americans—needed were the diplomatic talents of someone as temperamental as his first officer. He kept those thoughts to himself. Instead, he said, “Mr. Cui, I really need you here, capable of making on-the-spot decisions for the ship. Furthermore, we know nothing about the aliens, but it’s possible they might take umbrage if approached by less than the highest-ranking entity. This task falls on me.”

More importantly, he thought, I’m less likely to get us into a dustup with the Americans. Beijing had been clear to him on that point: keep the aliens’ knowledge out of the hands of the Americans at all costs… short of starting the next superpower war.

Two hours later, a short-haul tug departed from the Celestial Odyssey with five space-suited crew. A fifty-kilometer run didn’t require anything like the shuttle, and Zhang didn’t want to risk it on so uncertain a mission. Really, prudence dictated that he shouldn’t be there at all.

Unfortunately, there was no one on the ship who was better qualified to deal with this unpredictable and delicate situation. If worse came to worst, his first officer was entirely capable of commanding the vessel for a return trip to Earth. She’d not likely make any friends along the way…

And they had yet to settle the question of whether the ship was capable of bringing the crew home alive and whole.

Zhang had done what he could to minimize the potential for loss. He had a bare minimum complement accompanying him. The contact crew included Lieutenant Peng Cong, who was without question the best pilot on board and Zhang’s personal favorite. A short-haul tug did not usually require fancy piloting, but this was not a usual run, and evasive action might prove necessary.

Dr. Mo Mu was a research biologist and medical officer and one of the oldest and most experienced crew members. He might have some insight into the nature of the aliens and if there were an accident… or incident… his skills might save someone’s life. He was also, frankly, expendable; there were several other people on board the ship with advanced medical training. Dr. Gao Xing Xing was an astrophysicist, best in her class at Beijing University, smart as a whip, and very, very fast on the uptake. She was along to study alien technology and science. If first contact failed catastrophically, there’d be little for someone of her skills to study, and she served no function in the operation of the ship. So… also expendable.

Zhang hated planning this in terms of who he could afford to sacrifice. He’d just lost four crew members in the bay depressurization, including two engineers. That had been an unavoidable accident. It still ate at him. Consciously choosing who was dispensable, to put them on this mission, it didn’t sit well. It was especially difficult when he knew that the people he’d chosen for this trip thought that he’d honored them by doing so.

He was too soft. He needed to be more dispassionate.

Then, there was the fifth team member, one the captain wouldn’t mind seeing expended. Second Lieutenant Duan Me wore two hats on the under-crewed Celestial Odyssey. She was a plant biologist, in charge of the ship’s hydroponics, and as such she kept the crew well fed.

She was also the ship’s political officer, the voice, eyes, and ears of the Party. On first meeting, you’d be impressed by her charm and humor, Zhang thought: she was a compact, solidly built woman who liked a good laugh. She also liked digging in the dirt, of which, she complained, there was far too little of in hydroponics.

She was the kind of person you’d want to confide in… unless the conversation turned to politics. With her, it inevitably did. Then she gave old Mao a run for cultural purity.

She had made it entirely clear that while she might be a mere second lieutenant and he was captain, she would be going on this little jaunt. Strictly as an observer, of course, to ensure that Beijing got an accurate report of the behavior of the Americans. No interference, she wouldn’t think of it.

If Zhang could have thought of a way to release her tether and make it look like an accident, he would have been tempted.

Fifteen minutes in flight had them at the planetoid. Zhang had timed the launch so that the landing pad and apparent access port were facing the Celestial Odyssey. He preferred this encounter take place within sight of his ship, not to mention out of sight of the Nixon.

The four Americans took no action until the tug got within about a kilometer of the surface, when two of them unshouldered their weapons. Zhang signaled Peng to bring the tug to a halt. He toggled a common comm frequency, stood up, and held his arms far out from his sides.

“Gentlemen, I am Captain Zhang Ming-Hoa, commander of the Celestial Odyssey. May we have permission to land?”

One of the Americans, Zhang couldn’t tell which one, responded, “I am sorry, sir, but we must regretfully decline your request. We are under strict orders that no one is to land here without the explicit authorization of Admiral Fang-Castro. We have received no such authorization.”

“My apologies for my forwardness, but under the law of space, unless you have filed a claim on this body, we are entitled to land on it just as you have,” Zhang said. He discreetly signaled Peng to start moving the tug in. Slowly. Very slowly.

“Sir, I am not trained in space law. But we are under orders from our commander.” One of the Americans noticed the tug was approaching. He stiffened and nudged his companion. Very quickly, the other two Americans unshouldered their arms.

“Please, sir, stop your approach. Our orders are to take all measures necessary to prevent unauthorized landings.” The American who had first unshouldered his weapon began to raise it to the ready position. Slowly, the other three followed suit. “Sir, we are authorized to use force. Once again, halt. You will not be warned a third time.”

Ta ma de. They were going to push the issue. They must be bluffing. They were almost certainly bluffing. But he wasn’t a hundred percent sure. Zhang signaled Peng and the tug came to a halt.

The American said, “Sir, we have a remote relay point flying in station with the primary. We ask that you contact our commander, Admiral Naomi Fang-Castro, for permission to land. If she agrees, we will stand down here. We our transmitting the link, which is a standard inter-ship channel.”

The link came in and Zhang turned to Duan. “Your advice?”

Duan said, “They’re bluffing.”

“Probably. Almost certainly. But if they aren’t, they’ll kill us.”

Duan’s face was impassive, but she was sweating, Zhang thought. She didn’t want to make the call, because whatever call was made, there’d be criticism in Beijing. On the other hand, if she didn’t make the call, she would be showing an unseemly deference to the captain.

She said, “We should consult with the minister.”

Ah. Nice move, Zhang thought. Consulting with the minister would take hours, which they really didn’t have. “If we consult with the minister, we’d have to go back to the ship, which would appear to be a retreat, which would be undesirable,” Zhang said. “So. I will consult with Fang-Castro.”

“You must insist that we be allowed to land,” Duan said.

“Of course,” Zhang said. He nodded at Peng, who also served as comm officer. Peng picked up the link through the American satellite and called the American ship. The call was answered by the American comm officer, and a moment later, Fang-Castro appeared on the screen.

She spoke in Mandarin: not the best Mandarin, but good for an American: “Captain Zhang. I hope you managed the aerobraking without damage or injury. There was cheering on our bridge when you came through intact.”

Zhang smiled. “I appreciate that, Admiral. Alas, we did not. We have suffered a number of casualties, and substantial damage, which we are still assessing, as I’m sure you know. At the moment, however, we wish to approach the alien planetoid, but we have been met by armed members of your crew, who are refusing us access. As you know, this is a violation of basic space law, and we must insist on access.”

“And you shall have it, Captain Zhang,” Fang-Castro said. “But not immediately. I will be frank with you. Inside the primary, or planetoid, we have found an AI computer which is willing to divulge a substantial amount of information on alien science. We have broadcast a vid of this AI—”

“I have seen this,” Zhang said.

Fang-Castro said, “Captain, your English is far better than my Mandarin. Might we switch to English?”

“If you prefer, of course,” Zhang said. Duan nodded: she’d matriculated at UCLA.

“Thank you,” Fang-Castro said. She looked down—at a slate, Zhang thought—then continued. “The AI has established an I/O link on which to transfer this data. We have been accepting data for six days. The AI tells us the transfer of certain kinds of scientific information will be complete in two days. When it is complete, we will leave this station, and you will be free to access it. The reason we refuse access now, quite frankly, is that you frighten us. Our intelligence agencies tell us that you have a military crew—even your scientists have military status. We have very little military aboard, which creates a problem for us, as I’m sure you recognize.

“We are not refusing you access because we want to keep you away from the AI computer, but because we want to keep you away from our crew and the equipment we have on board the primary, and because we want to finish downloading the scientific information. If we allow you on board, we would essentially be at your mercy, since you can stay here longer than we can. So, that is our position. In two days, we will depart this station, and will leave it to you.”

She continued: “As an indication of our goodwill, we will further tell you that this station is a refueling depot for the alien ships, and also a trading station. We have asked the computer if we are allowed to trade, and have been told that we are. Trade values are assessed by an alien onboard computer. Each species is allowed to leave items valued at eight points by the aliens, and once we leave eight points in value, we will be allowed to take away alien items valued at eight points. We were granted a full eight points. This ship will take four points in value and we have indicated to the trade computer that you should be allocated the other four points and the computer has agreed that this would be appropriate. So, as a gift, we give you those points, in the hope that you will accept our difficult position with goodwill. We ask you to wait two days. Then, the station will be yours.”

Zhang said, “This will require some consultation. I am sorry that we frighten you, for I assure you, that is not our purpose here. We have questions, however, which our experts in Beijing will want answers to. Have you met the aliens?”

“No. There are no aliens here. The primary is a remotely controlled station that creates antimatter as fuel, and stores the antimatter in the fleet of smaller moonlets that accompany the station. Trade goods are exchanged purely through a computer-mediated barter system. Alien visits are extremely rare. We have found the onboard AI to be extremely forthcoming on all these matters, and our experts tell us this is so simply because the aliens have no reason not to be, and some reasons why this… position… may benefit them.”

“So the planetoid contains nothing but this cooperative AI and the trade goods?”

“That is correct. It’s essentially a warehouse. The I/O interface is complicated, but we have managed to establish one. If it had been simple, we would have already finished downloading the alien information, and would have gotten out of your way already. Since ours—American and Chinese I/Os—are compatible, and we will have no further use for our gear when we leave, we will leave our connection intact for your use, if you wish to use it.”

“Understood,” Zhang said. “I will return to my ship now for consultation, which will take some time. I will contact you when we finish.”

Fang-Castro said, “Captain Zhang, I would point out to you that if your consultations are anything like ours, this will take quite a long time, because of the light-speed lag. By the time they are done, there should be very little time left before the Nixon departs. Perhaps we could both suggest to our governments that slightly prolonged consultations on Earth… would obviate our problem. If they last long enough, the Nixon will be gone.”

Zhang said, “I will point this out.”

Fang-Castro: “Assuming that everybody sees the wisdom of that, I would tell you that the Nixon has excellent fabrication and repair facilities. If there is anything we can fabricate for you, or any repairs that we could assist you in, we would be happy to do so.”

“Thank you. We need to finish our assessment of the damage we have taken. I will call you personally if we have need of your aid.”

Back aboard the Celestial Odyssey, Zhang ordered the contact crew into a conference room, and called First Officer Cui to join them. The video of the encounter with the Americans was already on its way back to Earth, and now he said, “Feel free to speak your minds.”

Cui and Duan glanced at each other—the video of this conference would be on its way to Beijing as they spoke. Zhang said, “I’m serious about that. We need to plan our next move, and I want more than just the thoughts in my own head. We also need the thoughts of our experts back home, and quickly.”

Cui spoke first. “Sir, I think it was a mistake not to push the issue and attempt a landing. I do not think there is any doubt that the Americans were bluffing. They can’t afford to initiate an attack.”

Zhang shook his head. “Officer Cui, I am nowhere so free from doubt as you are. I believe your assessment is correct, but I also believe we both might be wrong. The consequences of an error in judgment are so severe that I want us to pursue all other options before we force a confrontation with the Americans. Be assured, I will force that as our last resort. Not as our first. We explore other options before we risk even the smallest, most unlikely possibility of… an international difficulty.”

“Sir?” Dr. Mo, the biologist, spoke up. “There is a great deal more to this complex than the planetoid that the Americans have sequestered. There are myriad smaller moonlets that are clearly alien constructions, and uncountable numbers of small autonomous spacecraft traveling between them and the rings and the planetoid. The Americans can’t be everywhere at once.”

“True,” interjected Cui, “and the Americans have no force of authority beyond a physical presence. They could order us away, but they would have no means of backing up their order. They would never risk initiating an attack by their ship on ours. Their vessel is obviously fragile, it’s a flying bundle of twigs. Even our light armament could permanently disable it in a matter of minutes. Their poorest tactician would understand this.”

“That, I entirely agree with,” replied Zhang. “Still, they may devise some kind of a response. We may not get more than one chance at this. Do we just pick a target at random? I’d rather spend that chance on better than the flip of a coin.”

“I have a suggestion.” Dr. Gao, the astrophysicist, looked at her data slate. “Our instruments picked up low levels of radiation from many of the moonlets. I mean really low, nothing that would be hazardous to people, not even with prolonged exposure. But the interesting thing is that some of the spectra show a slight energy spike at 511 KV. That means positrons. Antimatter. Not much, just a handful of particles, but something has to be generating those positrons. That technology has to be associated with this antimatter storage that Fang-Castro spoke of. If we should go examine one: it would establish our right to work among the alien artifacts, and there’d be nothing the Americans could do to prevent it.”

Zhang punched through to Comm: “Put a chart of the planetoid and its accompanying fleet on the conference room screen.”

The map popped up a moment later, a complicated skein of artifacts encircling the planetoid, the moonlets flying in a steady formation, other, smaller ones moving between the moonlets and the rings.

“There’s the one we want,” Gao said, tapping one of the smaller vehicles, which was moving toward the nearest of the moonlets.

Zhang turned to the political officer. “Mr. Duan, do you see any aspects of this plan which conflict with our orders from Beijing?”

Duan considered the matter for a double handful of seconds before replying. “Sir, I don’t see anything in this plan that contravenes the Party’s instructions. But I feel I must register an objection to your actions at the planetoid. We had clear instructions not to engage with the Nixon.”

“Which, Mr. Duan, I followed to the letter. I did not engage the American ship directly in any fashion. I tested the waters… and their resolve. The verbal exchanges were meaningless theatrics. We learned what we needed to know without engaging.” He turned to Cui. “Mr. Cui, I want you to work up a list of personnel for the shuttle mission to the moonlet. I want everyone on that trip who could possibly be of any use in investigating the alien technology. If we’re fortunate, this won’t be the only opportunity to study their technology, but we can’t count on that. Assume the worst about the Americans: that is our one and only chance.”

He then turned and spoke directly with the camera that was recording and transmitting the conference. “To you experts in Beijing, I would suggest that the American commander was probably telling the truth, and that her assessment of the balance of power between our two ships was accurate. Therefore, I believe that the Nixon will be leaving in two days. I don’t believe that she was being entirely candid with us: there may be other issues here, but we can’t know what they are, unless there is some special intelligence of which I’m not aware. I believe that there would be some profit in investigating the moonlets, and perhaps some legal precedent would be set by doing such an investigation. However, I will suspend any further action from this ship until we have time to confer with you in Beijing. We have much work to do in repairing this ship, and we will do that, starting immediately. We await your counsel.”