At the L3 point, directly opposite the first vessel across the drive, was an irregular sphere of plated metal. It looked … incomplete. The coloring was not uniform, and there appeared to be nothing purposeful or special about it. There was no reason to believe he could tell anything from first appearances, but to him it looked like nothing so much as a junk heap. It was easily twice the size of the first vessel, but if this really was a Lagrangian configuration, it would have to be much less massive.
At the L4 and L5 points, 60 degrees ahead and 60 degrees behind the first vessel in its orbit about the drive, were the last two constructs. Similar in size and basic shape to the junk pile at the L3 point, these appeared in no way incomplete. These were nothing less than the cathedrals Gordon had spoken of in his last words.
The one orbiting at L5 was somewhat spherical or polyhedral, and was covered with long, curving chambers defined by angular ribs, adorned with almost gothic arches. The structure appeared to be made of dark gray, polished stone blocks, accentuated by copper and silver edgework and statuary. There were no lights to reveal its darkly shadowed alcoves, but half of the structure was illuminated by the deep carmine glow from the drive. Nothing about it seemed practical or spaceship-like. Instead, it appeared to be the illegitimate offspring of Notre Dame and Westminster Abbey as interpreted by Salvador Dali or M. C. Escher.
L4 sported a construct similar in purpose to the gothic structure at L5 (in so far as it bore no relation to either of the two main bodies or the junk heap at L3), but completely different in style and appearance. It was also somewhat spherical, but appeared lumpy and organic. Domes, spires, and hollows adorned the structure, configured in a pleasant, orderly fashion, but which seemed to have been extruded naturally rather than built. It looked to be made of an off-white plastic or polyp, lit on one side by the drive’s reddish-purple glow, while complex geometric designs of intersecting whorls of color and dark, looping lines broke up the uniform surface coloring. By the way the light played over the designs, they appeared to be cut into the surface of the construct vice merely drawn upon it.
The four structures of the Deltan “system” revolved slowly around the equator of the drive, rotating about their common polar axes so that no one side was tidally locked toward the star-like sphere of plasma. Whether this system was indeed gravitationally bound like a planetary or solar system, or whether there were other forces at play, Nathan would have to wait for the telemetry analysis, but he felt himself making his own assumptions about the system regardless.
The drive seemed to be an enormously powerful and skilled manipulation of several forces, well beyond Earth’s own capability, but it did not feel magical or beyond all understanding. The drive was apparently controlled by the lobster-like ship, and produced a massive thrust in order to slowly accelerate its immense bulk from star system to star system. The other constructs were then dragged along behind, bound to it by gravity, electromagnetism, or some other force unknown to humanity. The constructs themselves inspired a number of different interpretations, none of which had any validity other than the feeling in Nathan’s gut.
For the junk heap at L3, Nathan felt nothing. It was a non-entity, neither alluring nor threatening. For the ornate structures, gothic and organic at L5 and L4, Nathan felt a sense of wonder and enticement. They practically invited exploration as works of art and design—design along two completely different aesthetic frameworks. The whole system was alien, and every part of it seemed alien to every other part.
Only the lobster-like control ship carried with it any negative connotation. It looked menacing, though not one element of it could be pointed out as threatening, and it did nothing but revolve about the drive, same as the others. Staring at it, though, he could not help but feel a sense of dread. Perhaps he attributed too much to it because of what happened to Gordon, but the plated vessel appeared to be vaguely threatening.
The view devoted to the sub-probes came to life as one or another made a close flyby of each structure. More detail was seen of the individual vessels, but nothing indicated any life aboard. The vessels cruised on, dragged by the forces of the drive to an eventual rendezvous with the solar system, but they did so without change or response. They appeared to be either dead or asleep. Nathan wondered what the telemetry would show.
Getting nowhere with the sub-probes, Promise would move to the next step. Lights came on around the probe—with flashing indicators above the auxiliary communication disk and the lidar transceiver, declaring its presence for all to see in case any potential viewers had missed it. He could not tell from the video, but he knew the probe would now begin transmitting to the four vessels, attempting to make contact.
Nathan began to tap a rhythm on the desk—one, two … one, two, three … one through five … one through seven, and so on. It was the classic “first contact” transmission, the first thirty-three prime numbers, from 2 to 137, the inverse of physic’s fine structure constant. It was a decidedly nonrandom set that would communicate a variety of things to any potential extraterrestrial visitors. Namely, that humanity knew what a prime number was, and its significance, that we were a mathematical, reasoning species, and could thus be seen as potential peers to the advanced race dropping by for a visit. Whether or not this implied message would get across to these particular aliens, Nathan had no idea, but it always seemed to work in the movies.
Promise would broadcast the prime transmission at a number of different frequencies and rates, from long wavelength radio, to microwaves, visible light, and ultraviolet, hoping to come across something the Deltans would notice. It would keep this up for 24 hours, repeating the sequence over and over again until some response was received. If a response came in, it would reply in kind and then broadcast the greeting message on the appropriate frequency, thus beginning the long process of forming a primer for common communication. If no response was received during that first 24 hours, Promise would release additional adjunct probes, this time attempting a physical touchdown and contact with one of the alien structures.
Nathan tapped out the twelfth prime (37) when the Deltan system stopped revolving.
He sat up straight in Gordon’s chair. There had been no other change in radiance or activity, but the four structures suddenly ceased their ponderous orbits about the drive. They stood still, frozen in their positions, belying the necessities of orbital mechanics. Obviously, there were other forces involved than mere gravity and inertia. He wondered how it worked, how much sheer energy it must have taken to stop the motion of those enormous masses.
Then, even more rapidly than they had come to a stop, the system spun in the reverse direction until the main, arthropod-like vessel was aligned closest to Promise, whereupon it stopped again. Nathan shook his head, in awe of this moment. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ear. Was this sudden activity what had led to Gordon’s attack?