I didn’t want to get Bill in trouble, so I hung a dumb look on my face and waited.
“The alien creatures you encountered with Shara Drummond have been seen again. They appear to be in a parking orbit around the planet Saturn. They have been there for approximately three weeks. They show no sign of any intention to move, nearer to or farther from us. Radio signals have been sent, but they have elicited no response. Will you kindly tell me when I come to information that is new to you?”
I knew I was caught, but I kept trying. In low gee, you chase spilled milk—and often catch it. “New to me? Christ, all of it’s—”
He smiled again. “Mr. Armstead, there is a saying in the UN. We say, ‘There are no secrets in space.’ ”
It is true that between all humans who choose to live in space, there is a unique and stronger bond than between any of them and anyone who spends all his life on Earth. For all its immensity, space has always had a better grapevine than a small town. But I hadn’t expected the Secretary-General to know that.
Norrey spoke while I was still reevaluating. “We know that we’re going to Saturn, Mr. Secretary-General. We don’t know how, or what will happen when we get there.”
“Or for that matter,” I added, “why this conference is taking place in Skyfac cubic.”
“But we understand the personal implications of a space trip that long, as you must have known we would, and we know that we have to go.”
“As I hoped you would,” he finished, respectfully. “I will not sully your bravery with words. Shall I answer your questions, then?”
“One moment,” I interjected. “I understand that you want our entire troupe. Won’t Norrey and I do? We’re the best dancers—why multiply your payload?”
“Payload mass is not a major consideration,” Wertheimer said. “Your colleagues will be given their free choice—but if I can have them, I want them.”
“Why?”
“There will be four diplomats. I want four interpreters. Mr. Stein’s experience and proven expertise are invaluable—he is, from his record, unique. Mr. Brindle can help us learn the aliens’ response to visual cues designed by computers which have seen the Stardance tapes—the same sort of augmentation he provides for you now. A sort of expanded vocabulary. He will also provide a peaceful excuse for us to judge the aliens’ reaction to laser beams.”
His answer raised several strong objections in my mind, but I decided to reserve them for later. “Go on.”
“As to your other questions. We are guests of Skyfac Incorporated because of a series of coincidences that almost impels me to mysticism. A certain ballistic transfer is required in order to get a mission to Saturn at all expediently. This transfer, called Friesen’s Transfer, is best begun from a 2:1 resonance orbit. Skyfac has such an orbit. It is a convenient outfitting base unequalled in space. And by chance Siegfried, the Saturn probe which was just nearing completion, is in a precessing ellipse orbit which brought it within the close vicinity of Skyfac at the right time. An incredible coincidence. On a par with the coincidence that the launch window for Saturn opened concurrent with the aliens’ appearance there.
“I do not believe in good fortune of that magnitude. I suspect personally that this is some kind of intelligence and aptitudes test—but I have no evidence beyond what I have told you. My speculations are as worthless as anyone’s—we must have more information.”
“How long does that launch window remain open?” I asked.
Wertheimer’s watch was as Swiss as he, exquisite and expensive but so old fashioned that he had to look at it. “Perhaps twenty hours.”
Oof. Now for the painful one. “How long is the round trip?”
“Assuming zero time in negotiation, three years. Approximately one year out and two back.”
I was pleasurably startled at first: three years instead of twelve to be cooped up in a canful of diplomats. But then I began to grasp the acceleration implied—in an untested ship built by a government on low-bid contracts. And it was still more than enough time for us all to adapt permanently to zero gee. Still, they obviously had something special and extraordinary up their sleeves. I grinned again. “Are you going?”
A lesser man would have said, “I regret that I cannot,” or something equally self-absolutory—and might have been completely honest at that. Secretary-Generals don’t go chasing off to Saturn, even if they want to.
But all he said was, “No,” and I was ashamed that I had asked the question.
“As to the question of compensation,” he went on quietly, “there is of course none adequate to the sacrifice you are making. Nevertheless, should you, upon your return, elect to continue performing, all your operating costs will be covered in perpetuity by the United Nations. Should you be disinclined to continue your careers, you will be guaranteed unlimited lifetime transport to and from, and luxury accommodations at, any place within United Nations jurisdiction.”
We were being given a paid-up lifetime plane ticket to anywhere in human space. If we survived to collect it.
“This is in no sense to be considered payment; any attempt at payment would be laughable and grotesque. But you have chosen to serve; your species is grateful. Is this satisfactory to you?”
I thought about it, turned to Norrey. We exchanged a few paragraphs by facial telegraph. “We accept the blank check,” she said. “We don’t promise to cash it.”
He nodded. “Perhaps the only sensible answer. All right, let us—”
“Sir,” I said urgently, “I have something I have to say first.”
“Yes?” He did me the honor of displaying patience.
“Norrey and I are willing to go, for our own reasons. I can’t speak for the others. But I must tell you that I have no great confidence that any of us can do this job for you. I will try my best—but frankly I expect to fail.”
The Chinese general’s eyes locked onto me. “Why?” he snapped.
I continued to look at Wertheimer. “You assume that because we are Stardancers, we can interpret for you. I cannot guarantee that. I venture to say that I know the Stardance tapes, even the classified ones, better than any person here. I shot them. I’ve monkeyed with speed and image-field until I know every frame by name and I will be damned if I understand their language. Oh, I get flashes, insights, but…
“Shara understood them—crudely, tentatively, and with great effort. I’m not half the choreographer she was, nor half the dancer. None of us is. No one I’ve ever seen is. She told me herself that what communication took place was more telepathy than choreography. I have no idea whether any of us can establish such a telepathic rapport through dance. I wasn’t there; I was in this oversized donut, four bulkheads away from here, filming the show.” I was getting agitated, all the pressure finding release. “I’m sorry, General,” I said to the Chinese, “but this is not something you can order done.”