Diablo Mesa(92)
After a moment, one of the tanks drew closer. Again, there was a flash that blew out the film’s exposure.
“Anyway,” Rush added as the flash died away, “humans don’t seem to have the technology to damage it. Or even look inside it. It has repulsed every effort. We’ve never been able to extract or derive any meaningful technology from it.”
The film moved forward in time. The aspect ratio changed, and color was introduced. It had the faintly blurred look of videotape. The craft was in the hangar where they now sat, except the space was far barer, with less equipment and fewer monitoring devices. Scientists in white coats and support staff in street clothes—from which she guessed the era to be the 1970s—worked busily around the craft at a safe distance. As she watched, a rack with a DEC minicomputer cabled to measuring equipment was slowly lowered toward the object via overhead wires. The video now sported audio, and she could hear, in various languages, messages being piped toward the craft, telling it that no harm would come to it and that communication was the only goal. The minicomputer rack kept inching down, like a huge spider descending on its spinnerets. Moments later, the flashes began again. This time, filters had apparently been placed on the camera lens, and it was possible to differentiate three separate bursts of light—but beyond that, nothing more.
“We tried every possible means of signaling to it,” Rush said. “Every means of studying it, reverse engineering it, even merely examining its technology. But every attempt, no matter how novel or advanced, ended in failure. Approaching too close inevitably triggers its weaponry.”
“It’s probably just a self-defense mechanism,” Tappan said.
Rush glanced at him. “Indeed? If this device is so advanced, don’t you think it would have learned by now, adapted, the same way its weapons have adapted to graphite? No. It’s implacably hostile. It kills or destroys anything that gets close. We believe that if it weren’t damaged—you saw that odd detent in its side—it would be far more lethal. The entire planet might be at risk.”
Once again, the film jumped forward in time. Now the hangar looked much closer to its current configuration. Nora watched for perhaps five minutes as a series of mobile robots approached the craft using a variety of tactics, followed by several small drones. Each met the usual end.
“We tried everything, even inert compounds,” Rush said. “We understand from remote measurements how the weapon works, more or less—but we’ve made no progress at all on how to stop it.”
“Those flashes,” Tappan says. “Why can’t you film them in slow motion and see what’s going on?”
“We have. It appears the weapon analyzes the atomic makeup of what it perceives to be a hostile object, then inverts its atomic structure.”
“Inverts? How?”
Again, Rush sighed in frustration. “Performs a logical OR on its natural state—that is, a logical disjunction applied to matter. The technology is far beyond our understanding.” The monitor went blank as the film ended, and he turned to Nora and Tappan. “These questions you’re asking—they’re pitifully ignorant. We’d moved beyond them before you were even born. Maybe soon, you’ll have the time to examine the thousands of pages of research papers, test results, theories, lab notes, and terabytes of data we’ve accumulated. Now, under the circumstances, I’ve been remarkably patient—especially given all the trouble you’ve caused us. The point you must understand is a simple one. All our painstaking lines of analysis have led to one conclusion: that craft is a weapon, from an alien civilization intent on destruction or conquest. At the very least, it’s a recon vessel searching for targets. It’s so dangerous that this base has an integrated self-destruct system so the probe, should it suddenly become mobile again, can’t unleash itself upon humanity.” Again he glanced from one to the other. “Look at you. You’re so fascinated by the device, you’ve been blinded to the bigger picture. Who knows when the next one might come along, undamaged and perhaps even more advanced? That’s why Atropos has made it our lifetime duty to thwart attempts to contact aliens or attract their attention. We can’t do anything about the damned electromagnetic radiation streaming from Earth, at least not now, but there are other steps we have taken.”
The colonel rose from his chair. “You’ve seen the evidence. I’ve shown you the history. I’ve kept nothing back. We can use people like you: your expertise, Dr. Kelly; and your money and reach, Mr. Tappan. We need you. We know of your relationship, of course—and there’s no reason that can’t continue. Now: Will you take up the cause?”
61
BY VIRTUE OF her position, Corrie had to be the first out of the vent. There was no way to pass one another in the narrow space. That meant she had to be the one to take out the guard.
Watts held out a knife. “Cut his throat,” he whispered. “Otherwise, he’ll make noise.”
Corrie felt sick. She’d never killed anyone—certainly not in a way as cold-blooded as this.
Watts sensed her hesitation. “It takes a lot more force than you might think. If you don’t cut all the way through the cartilage on the first swipe, he could still manage to scream.”
The guard in the doorway had finished his fries and was now just standing, slouched, marking time. He was surprisingly old, close to fifty, a sad sack of a soldier.