"They have," Eesyan told him. "Long ago, when there seemed reason to feel optimistic about the Jevlenese, the Thuriens helped them establish their own autonomous world. It’s called Jevlen, on the fringe of our developed region of space, and it’s equipped with a system known as JEVEX, which is VISAR-like but independent of VISAR. Like VISAR, JEVEX operates across its own system of many stars. The surveillance system from Earth is coupled into JEVEX, and the reports that we receive are transmitted indirectly from JEVEX through VISAR."
"So it isn’t difficult to understand how the fabrications and distortions were engineered," Showm said. "So much for philanthropy. They should never have been allowed to operate such a system."
"But why did they do it?" Karen Heller asked. "We still don’t have an answer. Their reports were pretty accurate up until about the time of World War II. The problems of the late twentieth century were somewhat exaggerated, but for the last thirty years it’s turned into pure fiction. Why would they want you to think we were still heading for World War III?"
"Who can understand the contortions of human minds?" Showm asked, using the general term unconsciously.
Hunt just caught the look that she flashed involuntarily at Calazar as she spoke. There was something more behind it all, he realized-something that the Thuriens were not divulging even now. Whatever it was, he was just as certain in that same split second that Garuth and Shilohin didn’t know about it, either. But he didn’t feel this was the time to force a confrontation. Instead he steered the discussion back into technicalities as he remembered something else. "What kind of archives does JEVEX have?" he asked. "Do they go all the way back to the Ganymean civilization on Minerva, like VISAR’s?"
"No," Eesyan replied. "JEVEX is of much more recent vintage. There was no need to load it with VISAR’s complete archives, which concerned only Ganymeans." He studied Hunt curiously for a few seconds. "Are you thinking about the anomalies in the displacements of background stars that VISAR noticed in the shots of the Shapieron? "
Hunt nodded. "That explains it, doesn’t it? JEVEX couldn’t have known about the displacements. VISAR had access to the original design data for the ship; JEVEX didn’t."
"Correct," Eesyan said. "There were a few other anomalies too, but all similar-all to do with an old Ganymean technology that JEVEX couldn’t have known very much about. That was when we became suspicious." At which point everything that had ever come from JEVEX would be suspect, Hunt saw. But there would have been no way of checking any of the rest without bypassing the Jevlenese completely and going straight to the source of the information-Earth. And that was precisely what the Thuriens had done.
Calazar seemed anxious to move them away from the whole topic. When a lull presented itself, he said, "Garuth wanted me to show you another sequence that he thought you would find interesting. VISAR, show us the Ganymean landing at Gorda."
Hunt jerked his head up in surprise. The name was familiar. Danchekker was looking incredulous as well. Heller was looking from one to the other of the men with a puzzled frown; she was less conversant with Charlie’s story than they were.
Don Maddson’s linguistics team at Navcomms had eventually succeeded in deciphering a notebook of Charlie’s that had remained a mystery for a long time. It gave a day-by-day account of Charlie’s experiences as one member of a rapidly diminishing band of Cerian survivors making a desperate trek across the lunar surface to reach a base that offered their last hope of escape from the Moon, if any hope remained at all. The account had covered events up to the point of Charlie’s arrival at the place at which he had been found, by which time attrition of various kinds had reduced his band to just two-him, and a companion whose name had been Koriel. Charlie had collapsed there from the effects of a malfunctioning life-support system, and Koriel had left on a lone bid to reach the base. Apparently he had never returned. The base was called Gorda.
A new image appeared above the center of the floor. It was of a wilderness of dust and boulders etched harshly beneath a black sky thick with stars. The landscape had been seared and churned by forces of unimaginable violence to leave just the twisted and mutilated wreckage of what could once have been a vast base. Amid the desolation stood a single structure that appeared to have survived almost intact-a squat, armored dome or turret of some kind, blown open on one side. Its interior was in darkness.
"That was all that was left of Gorda," Calazar commented. "The view you are seeing is from a Thurien ship that had landed a few minutes before."
A small vehicle, roughly rectangular but with pods and other protuberances cluttering its outside, moved slowly into view from behind the camera, flying twenty feet or so above the ground. It landed near the dome, and a group of Ganymeans wearing spacesuits emerged and began moving cautiously through the wreckage toward the opening. Then they stopped suddenly. There were movements in the shadows ahead of them.
A light came on from somewhere behind to light up the opening. It revealed more figures, also in suits, standing in front of what looked like an entrance leading down to an underground section of whatever the dome had been part of. Their suits were different, and they stood a full head and shoulders shorter than the Ganymeans facing them from a few yards away. They were carrying weapons, but they appeared unsure of themselves as they looked nervously at one another and at the Ganymeans. None of them seemed to know what to do or what to expect. None of them, except one.
He was standing in front of the others in a blue spacesuit that was plastered with dust and grotesquely discolored by scorch marks, his feet planted firmly astride, and a riflelike weapon held unwaveringly in one hand to cover the leading Ganymean. With his free arm he made a gesture behind him to wave the others forward. The movement was decisive and commanding. They obeyed, some moving up to stand on either side of him, others moving out to cover the aliens from protected positions among the surrounding debris. He was taller than the others and heavy in build, and the lips of the face behind his visor were drawn back in a snarl to reveal white teeth that contrasted sharply with his dark, unshaven chin and cheeks. Something unintelligible came through on audio. Although the words meant nothing, the tone of challenge and defiance was unmistakable.
"Our surveillance methods were not as comprehensive then," Calazar commented. "The language was not known."
In the scene before them, the Ganymean leader was replying in his own tongue, evidently relying on intonation and gesture to dispel alarm. As the exchange continued, the tension seemed to ease. Eventually the human giant lowered his weapon, and the others who had taken cover began emerging again. He beckoned for the Ganymeans to follow, and as the ranks behind him opened to make way, he turned away to lead them down into the inner entrance.
"That was Koriel," Garuth said.
Hunt had already guessed that. For some reason he felt very relieved.
"He succeeded!" Danchekker breathed. Elation was showing on his face, and he swallowed visibly. "He did get to Gorda. I’m-I’m glad to know that."
"Yes," Garuth said, reading the further question written across Hunt’s face. "We have studied the ship’s log. They did return, but Koriel’s companion had already died. They left him as they found him. They did manage to rescue some of the others who had been left strung out along the way, however."
"And after that?" Danchekker queried. "Another thing we have often wondered is whether or not Koriel was among those who finally reached Earth. It seems now that he may well have been. Do you happen to know if he in fact was?"
In reply Calazar called up another image. It was a view of a settlement formed from a dozen or so portable buildings of unfamiliar design, situated on a river bank against a background of semitropical forest with the hazy outline of mountains rising in the distance beyond. On one side was what looked like a supply dump, with rows of stacked crates, drums, and other containers. A crowd of two or three hundred figures was assembled in the foreground-human figures, dressed mainly in simple but serviceable-looking shirts and pants, and many of them carrying weapons either holstered at the waist or slung across the shoulder.