"So it would appear," Heller replied.
Hunt thought for a moment. "So again, whoever is handling the surveillance isn’t talking to whoever is sending these messages," he said.
"Exactly," Pacey agreed, nodding. "The ones handling the surveillance could hardly have not known about the Shapieron while it was here if they have any access to our communications network. There were enough headlines about it."
"And that’s not the only strange thing," Heller went on. "The Thuriens that we have been in contact with seem to have formed a completely distorted picture of Earth’s recent history. They think we’re all set for World War III only this time interplanetary, with orbiting bombs everywhere, radiation and particle-beam weapons commanding the surface from the Moon. . . you name it."
Hunt had been growing even more bemused as he listened. He could see now why it looked as if the Shapieron couldn’t have been intercepted-at least not by the Thuriens who were talking to Earth; the Ganymeans from the ship would have cleared up any misunderstandings like that straight away. But even if the Thuriens who were doing the talking hadn’t intercepted the Shapieron , they had an impression of Earth nonetheless, which meant that they could only have obtained it from the Thuriens who were handling the surveillance. The impression they had obtained was wrong. Therefore, either the surveillance wasn’t very effective, or the story being passed on was being distorted. But if the messages had been coming in composed in English, the surveillance methods had to be pretty effective, which therefore implied that the Thuriens passing on the story weren’t passing it on straight. But that didn’t make a lot of sense, either. Ganymeans didn’t play Machiavellian games of intrigue or deceive one another knowingly. Their minds didn’t work that way; they were far too rational. . . . unless the Ganymeans who now existed on Thurien had changed significantly in the course of the twenty-five million years that separated them from their ancestors aboard the Shapieron. That was a thought. A lot of changes could have taken place in that time. He couldn’t arrive at any definite conclusions now, he decided, so the information was simply filed away for retrieval and analysis later.
"It sounds strange, all right," Hunt agreed after he had sorted that much out in his head. "They must be pretty confused by now."
"They were already," Caldwell said. "The reason they reopened the dialogue is that they want to come to Earth physically-I guess to straighten out the whole mess. That’s what they’ve been trying to get the UN people to arrange."
"Secretly," Pacey explained in answer to Hunt’s questioning look. "No public spectacles or anything like that. What it seems to add up to is that they’re hoping to do some quiet checking up without the outfit that’s running the surveillance knowing about it."
Hunt nodded. The plan made sense. But there was a note in Pacey’s voice that hinted of things not having gone so smoothly. "So what’s the problem?" he asked, shifting his eyes to glance at both Pacey and Heller.
"The problem is the policy that’s been handed down from the top levels inside the UN," Heller replied. "To put it in a nutshell, they’re scared of what it might mean if this planet simply opens up to a civilization that’s millions of years ahead of us. . . . our whole culture could be torn up by the roots; our civilization would come apart at the seams; we’d be avalanched with technology that we’re not ready to absorb. . . . that kind of thing."
"But that’s ridiculous!" Hunt protested. "They haven’t said they want to take this place over. They just want to come here and talk." He made an impatient throwing-away motion in the air. "Okay, I’ll accept that we’d have to play it softly and exercise some caution and common sense, but what you’re describing sounds more like a neurosis."
"It is," Heller said. "The UN’s being irrational-there’s no other word for it. And the Farside delegation is following that policy to the letter and operating in go-slow, stall-stall-stall mode." She waved toward the folder she had indicated earlier. "You’ll see for yourself. Their responses are evasive and ambiguous, and do nothing to correct the wrong impressions that the Thuriens have got. Norman and I have tried to fight it, but we get outvoted."
Hunt caught Lyn’s eye as he sent a despairing look around the room. She sent back a faint half-smile and a barely perceptible shrug that said she knew how he felt. A faction inside the UN had fought hard and for the same reasons to prevent the Farside transmissions being continued after the first, unexpected reply had come in, he remembered, but had been overruled after a deafening outcry from the world’s scientific community. That same faction seemed to be active again.
"The worst part is what we suspect might be behind it," Heller continued. "Our brief from the State Department was to help move things smoothly toward broadening Earth’s communications with Thurien as fast as developments allowed, at the same time protecting this country’s interests where appropriate. The Department didn’t really agree with the policy of excluding outsiders, but had to go along with it because of UN protocols. In other words, the U.S. has been trying to play it straight so far, but under protest."
"I can see the picture," Hunt said as she paused. "But that just says that you’re becoming frustrated by the slow progress. You sounded as if there’s more to it than that."
"There is," Heller confirmed. "The Soviets also have a representative on the delegation-a man called Sobroskin. Given the world situation-with us and the Soviets competing everywhere for things like the South Atlantic fusion deal, industrial-training franchises in Africa, scientific-aid programs, and so on-the advantage that either side could get from access to Ganymean know-how would be enormous. So you’d expect the Soviets to be just as impatient to kick some life into this damn delegation as we are. But they aren’t. Sobroskin goes along with the official UN line and doesn’t bitch about it. In fact he spends half his time throwing in complications that slow things down even further. Now when those facts are laid down side by side, what do they seem to say?"
Hunt thought over the question for a while, then tossed out his hands with a shrug. "I don’t know," he said candidly. "I’m not a political animal. You tell me."
"It could mean that the Soviets are planning to set up their own private channel to fix a landing in Siberia or somewhere so that they get exclusive rights," Pacey answered. "If that’s so, then the UN line would suit them fine. If the official channel stays clogged up, and the U.S. plays straight and sticks with the official channel, then guess who walks off with the bonanza. Think of the difference it would make to the power balance if a few heads of select governments around the world were quietly tipped off that the Soviets had access to lots of know-how that we didn’t. You see-it all fits with the way Sobroskin is acting."
"And an even more sobering thought is the way in which the UN’s policy fits in with that so conveniently," Heller added. "It could mean that the Soviets have ways that we don’t even know about of pulling all kinds of strings and levers right inside the top levels of the UN itself. If that’s true, the global implications for the U.S. are serious indeed."
The facts were certainly beginning to add up, Hunt admitted to himself. The Soviets could easily set up another long-range communications facility in Siberia, up in orbit, out near Luna maybe, and operate their own link to whatever was intercepting Farside’s signals out beyond the edge of the solar system. Any reply coming back would probably be in the form of a fairly wide beam by the time it got to Earth, which meant that anybody could receive it and know that somebody somewhere other than the UN was cheating. But if the replies were in a prearranged code, nobody would be able to interpret them or know for whom they were intended. The Soviets might be accused, in which case they would deny the charge vehemently . . . and that would be about as much as anybody would be able to do about it.