Voyagers I Page 6

  “He’ll do it,” McDermott promised.

  “He hasn’t called for a lawyer or tried to get away from the house where we’ve stashed him?”

  “No. He’s going through a divorce; I think he’s kind of glad to be safely tucked away where the lawyers and his ex-wife can’t find him.” McDermott chuckled to himself. “And underneath it all, he’s got that old scientific curiosity—a fatal dose. It’s an itch he can’t scratch unless he plays ball with us.”

  “I don’t want to call in anybody else if we can avoid it,” Tuttle said. “God knows there’s enough people involved in this project already. I don’t want to let anybody else know what we’re onto. Not yet.”

  “Stoner will co-operate.”

  “And he can get more photographs from Big Eye?”

  “He helped design and build it. The telescope is being checked out by the NASA people at Goddard, before they officially turn it over to the university consortium that’ll run it. The official hand-over date is January first. Until then, the Goddard people are happy to help out an old pal. Stoner worked with those people for five years. They think they’re just helping out a guy who got laid off by shipping him some photos of Jupiter.”

  “And Stoner himself won’t cause any trouble for us? He’ll stay where we’ve put him?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure? Absolutely certain?”

  McDermott leaned his heavy forearms on the wobbly little table. “Listen to me. He’s got everything he needs up there at the house. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll get a girl for him—one of the students, a kid named Jo something-or-other. Hot stuff. She’ll go prancing up there and we’ll let nature take its course. She’ll keep him busy. And happy to stay where he is.”

  Tuttle scowled disapprovingly. “That’s sinful.”

  “It sure is.”

  “Well,” the Navy officer said, “I hope she’s signed a security agreement, at least.”

  Markov drowsed in the back seat as the car hummed through the gray October afternoon along the endless highway, kilometer after kilometer of flat, empty countryside. A thin coating of snow lay over the ground. The fields were bare. The trees stark and leafless against the dull sky.

  Mother Russia, Markov mused, half asleep. The real strength of our nation: the soil, all its vastness, all its timeless power.

  The sun was a dull yellowish blotch on the horizon when the car finally stopped at a chain link fence. A pair of soldiers stood by the gate. Except for their little wooden sentry house, Markov could see no structure anywhere. The fence seemed to be guarding emptiness, as far as the eye could roam.

  The driver exchanged words with the soldiers and Markov opened his briefcase to show them his papers. They were very polite to him and quickly swung the gate open.

  As the car accelerated along the blacktopped road, Markov realized that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. The dreary landscape stretched in all directions, empty and gray. His stomach rumbled. I might as well be going to Siberia, he thought. This land is exile for a Muscovite like me.

  It was fully dark by the time they came to the second fence. The guardhouse there was bigger, and made of stone. Again soldiers looked over his papers, by the glow of a flashlight.

  “Professor Markov, you are expected. One moment, please.”

  The guard disappeared into the stone building. In a few seconds a young lady came bouncing out to the car, long hair flying, fur-trimmed coat unbuttoned.

  “Professor Markov!” she exclaimed, opening the car door and scrambling in beside him. “We were getting worried about you; you’re quite late.” She tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Go straight ahead and take the second left.”

  Before Markov could say anything, she turned back to him. “I am Sonya Vlasov…I am only a graduate student here, doing my doctoral thesis work, but the director asked me to be your guide.” She was almost breathless with excitement.

  Markov paid no attention to the row upon row of huge radio telescopes that glinted metallically in the lights from the road. He saw only that Sonya Vlasov was young, eager, a little plump, and had enormous breasts.

  “My personal guide?” He smiled at her in a fatherly way.

  “Oh yes. Whatever you want or need, it will be my pleasure to see that you get it.”

  “How very thoughtful.”

  She pushed back her long, light brown hair with one hand, a motion that made her coat open even more.

  “Welcome to the Landau Radio Astronomy Institute, Professor Markov!” she said happily.

  Markov nodded graciously. Exile might not be so bad after all, he thought.

  * * *

  I must now mention God—otherwise quite properly unmentioned in these scientific studies—and must go a step further and pose the question: Can a religious person, or even more, a theologian, possibly be legitimately involved in, even be excited by these discussions of the possibility of other intelligent creatures and free creatures out there?

  As a theologian, I would say that this proposed search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI) is also a search of knowing and understanding God through His works—especially those works that most reflect Him. Finding others than ourselves would mean knowing Him better.

  THEODORE M. HESBURGH, C.S.C.

  President, University of Notre Dame

  The Search for Extraterrestrial

  Intelligence (SETI)

  National Aeronautics and Space

  Administration

  NASA SP-419

  1977

  * * *

  CHAPTER 8

  Stoner looked up from his frozen dinner and saw Jo standing in the kitchen doorway, a thick manila folder clutched in her mittened hands.

  For a moment he didn’t know what to say. Dark anger rushed through him; he could feel its heat in his face.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She stood her ground. “I brought the latest packet of photographs from Goddard Space Center.” Her voice was low but steady.

  “Brought me my homework. Thanks a lot.”

  Taking a step into the kitchen, Jo said, “Professor McDermott needed somebody to carry things from the observatory to you. He told me to do it.”

  Stoner said nothing.

  “I had to get special clearance from the Navy.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Look—I didn’t think they’d do this to you.” Jo’s voice didn’t tremble, but he could sense the tension in it. And there was something in her face, something in those dark eyes of hers: guilt, or fear, or…what?

  “What did you think they’d do?” he asked.

  She shrugged inside her heavy wool coat. “I don’t know. I tried to warn you…to tell you that McDermott was uptight about you going to Washington…”

  “How’d he find out, Jo?”

  Her face fell. In a voice so low he could barely hear it, she answered, “I told him.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “He pressured me. I’ve been cutting a lot of classes to be out at the observatory. He said he’d flunk me out if I didn’t tell him what you were up to.”

  He studied her. If she’s lying, she’s good at it. Anger was seething inside him. Or was it something else, something more? Anger usually left Stoner cold, his mind became as unemotional and unfeeling as an electronic computer. But now his hands wanted to grab and tear, his insides were jumping, blood pounding. Jesus, Stoner realized, it’s been months since I’ve gotten laid.

  “Come on in,” he said, trying to make it sound calm. “Take your coat off. Sit down. Have some coffee.”

  Hesitantly Jo entered the kitchen. She put the thick manila folder on the Formica-topped counter, pulled off her mittens, slipped out of the coat. Stoner went to the range, where the glass coffeepot sat, half empty.

  “No coffee for me, thanks.” She took the stool across the counter from his and watched him pour himself a cup. “Are they treating you all right here? Is there anything I can bring you?”


  “My car and the keys to it.”

  “They won’t let me.”

  He carried the steaming mug back to the counter and sat down facing her. “That old car’s the only thing I’ve got to show for sixteen years of marriage.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ve become kind of attached to it.”

  “But they’re treating you okay? They’re not giving you any hassles?”

  “Sure. Everything’s fine—once I signed the security agreement. Now I’ve got the run of the house. Eight rooms. Or is it nine? I’ve lost count. Plenty of food. I have to cook it for myself, though. I’m a lousy cook.”

  “I could cook for you, sometimes.”

  He ignored it. Reaching for the manila folder, Stoner pulled out the latest stack of photographs. They showed the fat, flattened, gaudily striped beach ball that was the planet Jupiter. He could see exquisite details of the streaming bands of clouds that flowed across the planet: eddies and whirlpools the size of Earth, in burnt orange, brick red, dazzling white.

  “Where are the background field pictures I asked for?”

  “In the next batch,” Jo replied. “They’re still being processed.”

  “I need them,” he said. “And a computer terminal.”

  She nodded. “Anything else?”

  “Books. Every book on extraterrestrial life you can find. Empty the libraries. I want everything on the subject.”

  Another nod. “Anything else?”

  He looked into her deep, lustrous eyes. “Why did you come here tonight, Jo?”

  “Professor McDermott told me to. I’m a courier now.”

  “Why did you accept the job? You didn’t have to.”

  For a moment she didn’t answer. Then, “I wanted to see you. To tell you I’m sorry. If I’d stood up to Big Mac…maybe…” She looked away from him. “I’m sorry it turned out this way. Truly I am.”

  He reached across the table and grasped her wrist. “Prove it.”

  Without another word he led her out of the kitchen, through the tiny, close rooms of the old part of the house, up the narrow stairway to his bedroom.

  He closed the door firmly. No need to turn on a lamp: cold moonlight filtered through the gauzy curtains of the window.

  For a moment Jo stood in front of the bed. Then she turned toward him. Stoner leaned his back against the heavy wooden panels of the door. Neither of them spoke.

  He could see her face etched by the moonlight. She wasn’t smiling. Her expression was strangely placid, tranquil. She began unbuttoning her blouse. Stoner watched. She unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. Reaching down, she pulled off her shoes, then slithered the jeans down her long legs. And finally the skimpy flowered bikini panties.

  “Is this what you want?” she whispered.

  His throat was dry. “Yes,” he said, with an effort.

  She stepped to him and started to unbutton his shirt. He stood there and let her do the work. Finally she was on her knees in front of him and he was naked. She kissed his erect penis.

  “Is this what you want?” she asked again. But she didn’t wait for an answer.

  Just before he thought he would explode, Stoner dug his fingers into her thick black hair and pulled her away from him. Bending down, he scooped her into his arms and carried her the four strides to the bed. He put her on the coverlet and tented his body over hers.

  Jo twined her arms around his neck and pulled him down onto her. He kissed her as he entered her and she was warm and ready and moving in rhythm with him.

  It was like being in space again, floating weightlessly, drifting, drifting through the dark eternities while the stars solemnly, silently gazed down.

  She clung to him as they convulsed together and then gasped out a single word: “Keith!”

  For long moments they lay locked together, hearts racing, breath gasping. He lifted his face from the tufted coverlet and looked into her eyes again.

  She smiled up at him. “That’s the first time you’ve kissed me,” she said.

  “It’s the first time you called me by my first name.”

  They laughed together.

  He sat on the edge of the bed. His insides still felt fluttery. Jo traced a fingernail along the length of his spine.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you, Dr. Stoner?” she teased.

  Turning back toward her, “Stay the night.”

  “I have a class tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh.” He frowned in the shadows. “Where in hell are we, anyway? Where is this house?”

  “In New Hampshire…not far from White River Junction.”

  “White River Junction? Then how in hell can you drive to campus in time for a morning class?”

  “So I’ll miss the class,” Jo said easily. “It won’t be the first time.”

  “That’s what got you under McDermott’s thumb, isn’t it?”

  “I can handle Professor McDermott. He’s just a big bully.”

  “White River Junction,” Stoner mused. “Maybe you ought to bring up a pair of skis the next time you come.”

  “We won’t be here for the ski season, from what Professor McDermott says.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He said the whole observatory staff will be heading south in a few weeks.”

  “Including me?”

  She nodded. “And me. I’m going too.”

  “Where?”

  “He wouldn’t say. Just that the climate wouldn’t be so cold.”

  “Green Bank?” Stoner wondered. “No, it’s just as cold in those West Virginia hills as it is here. It can’t be Arecibo. Not even Big Mac could swing Drake and Sagan out of there.”

  “What’s it like to be an astronaut?” Jo asked.

  He blinked at the sudden shift in subject. “Huh? I wasn’t really an astronaut…not like the real rocket jocks. They used me as a construction engineer. I just rode up into orbit and helped put Big Eye together.”

  “But you spent months in space, didn’t you?”

  Shrugging, “Sure. And once they got the telescope working, NASA figured they didn’t need an expensive astrophysicist who did construction work anymore. So I got RIFfed.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Reduction In Force. Laid off. Bounced. Fired.”

  “And that’s when you came to the observatory?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your family…where are they?”

  So she’s pumping me, Stoner told himself, knowing that sooner or later she would have asked him about his wife and children.

  “My wife took the kids back to her parents in Palo Alto,” he said flatly. “The day I got the RIF notice, as a matter of fact. Strictly coincidence; poetic timing. We hadn’t gotten along in years.”

  “How old…?”

  “Fifteen and twelve,” he answered automatically. “The boy’s the oldest. I don’t see them at all. Last time I flew out to Palo Alto they wouldn’t even come to the front door to say hello to me. Let’s change the subject.”

  Jo reached over and pulled him down to her and kissed him. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It must hurt a lot.”

  “It should, I guess. But mostly it just feels kind of numb.”

  “You’re covering it over.”

  “With work. Right. My work comes first. Doris always said that it did, and she was right.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I’m onto the biggest goddamned discovery in history. Nothing else matters. I’m going to prove that we’ve found extraterrestrial intelligence. No matter what Big Mac or the Navy or anybody else does—I’m going to prove it to the world.”

  Jo leaned her head against his shoulder and made long, soothing, soft strokes of her fingertips down his chest.

  “So fierce,” she said in a whisper. “Do you know, you’re just like me? We’re two of a kind.”

  “You? You’re kidding.”

  “I want them to notice me, too, Keith. I want to be somebody. I want to m
ake the whole world know who I am.”

  He found himself grinning. “Well, you’re on the right project for that.”

  But Jo said, “Who’s going to notice a little technical assistant, next to the famous Dr. Keith Stoner or Professor McDermott. No. I’m going to become an astronaut. A real one.”

  “NASA isn’t hiring.”

  “They will be, sooner or later. And women will get special preference, you’ll see.”

  “It’s not a romantic life. It’s more like being a bus driver. Just a lot of hard donkey work. And risk.”

  “But you went into space. You became famous.”

  “And unemployed.”

  “Imagine making love in zero gravity!”

  “Waterbeds are almost as good. Besides, astronauts don’t make love in orbit. They’re too damned busy. And scared. And exhausted.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s a dull life, I tell you.”

  “No duller than being a computer programmer.”

  “Is that what you’re studying?”

  He could sense her smiling in the darkness, cradled next to his body. “That’s what my parents think I’m studying. They want me to go to school and learn a nice, sensible trade until I meet a nice, sensible guy and get married and start having babies.”

  “And they’re paying your way…”

  “The hell they are! I got myself a partial scholarship. And I work weekends and summers. How do you think I got into the observatory? I get paid for helping out.”

  He grinned at the determination in her voice. “So now you’ve joined Big Mac’s supersecret ETI project. I hope he’s paying you well.”

  “I get a full technician’s salary.”

  “Not bad.”

  “And I’m transferring to the Astronautics Department,” Jo added. “I’m going to be an astronaut and nothing’s going to stop me.”

  “Fine,” Stoner said, fighting back a yawn. “But in the meantime let’s not freeze to death.” He peeled back the covers on his side of the bed.

  “Don’t worry,” Jo answered. “We’re going to be nice and warm this winter. We’re going to Arecibo. I’m sure of it.”