THE TRIAL Chapter 6: DEVOURER OF WORLDS Chapter 43 Thought Experiment
When one spends months with a small, isolated group of people, one becomes very sensitive to the moods and emotional states of all its members. Floyd was now aware of a subtle change in attitude toward him; its most obvious manifestation was the reappearance of the greeting 'Dr Floyd', which he had not heard for so long that he was often slow to respond to it.
No one, he was sure, believed that he had really gone crazy; but the possibility was being considered. He did not resent that; indeed, he was grimly amused by it as he set about the task of proving his sanity.
He did have some slight supporting evidence from Earth. Jose Fernandez still maintained that his wife had reported an encounter with David Bowman, while she continued to deny it and refused to speak to any of the news media. It was hard to see why poor Jose should have invented such a peculiar story, especially as Betty seemed a very stubborn and quick-tempered lady. From his hospital bed, her husband declared that he still loved her and theirs was only a temporary disagreement.
Floyd hoped that Tanya's present coolness toward him was equally temporary. He was quite sure that she was as unhappy about it as he was, and he was certain that her attitude was not a matter of deliberate choice. Something had happened that simply would not fit into her pattern of beliefs, so she would try to avoid any reminders of it. Which meant having as little to do with Floyd as possible - a very unfortunate situation now that the most critical stage of the mission was fast approaching.
It had not been easy to explain the logic of Tanya's operational plan to the waiting billions back on Earth - especially to the impatient television networks, which had grown tired of showing the same never-changing views of Big Brother. 'You've gone all this way, at enormous cost, and you just sit and watch the thing! Why don't you do something?' To all these critics Tanya had given the same answer: 'I will - just as soon as the launch window opens, so that we can leave immediately if there's any adverse reaction.'
Plans for the final assault on Big Brother had already been worked out and agreed upon with Mission Control. Leonov would move in slowly, probing at all frequencies, and with steadily increasing power - constantly reporting back to Earth at every moment. When final contact was made, they would try to secure samples by drilling or laser spectroscopy; no one really expected these endeavours to succeed, as even after a decade of study TMA-1 resisted all attempts to analyse its material. The best efforts of human scientists in this direction seemed comparable to those of Stone Age men trying to break through the armour of a bank vault with flint axes.
Finally, echo sounders and other seismic devices would be attached to the faces of Big Brother. A large collection of adhesives had been brought along for the purpose, and if they did not work - well, one could always fall back on a few kilometres of good, old-fashioned string, even though there seemed something faintly comic about the idea of wrapping up the Solar System's greatest mystery, as if it were a parcel about to be sent through the mail.
Not until Leonov was well on the way home would small explosive charges be detonated, in the hope that the waves propagated through Big Brother would reveal something about its interior structure. This last measure had been hotly debated, both by those who argued that it would generate no results at all - and those who feared it would produce altogether too many.
For a long time, Floyd had wavered between the two viewpoints; now the matter seemed only of trivial importance.
The time for final contact with Big Brother - the great moment that should have been the climax of the expedition - was on the wrong side of the mysterious deadline. Heywood Floyd was convinced that it belonged to a future that would never exist; but he could get no one to agree with him.
And that was the least of his problems. Even if they did agree, there was nothing that they could do about it.
Walter Curnow was the last person he would have expected to resolve the dilemma. For Walter was almost the epitome of the sound, practical engineer, suspicious of flashes of brilliance and technological quick-fixes. No one would ever accuse him of being a genius; and sometimes it required genius to see the blindingly obvious.
'Consider this purely as an intellectual exercise,' he had begun, with most uncharacteristic hesitancy. 'I'm quite prepared to be shot down.'
'Go on,' answered Floyd. 'I'll hear you out politely. That's the least I can do - everyone's been very polite to me. Too polite, I'm afraid.'
Curnow gave a lopsided grin.
'Can you blame them? But if it's any consolation, at least three people now take you quite seriously, and are wondering what we should do.'
'Does that three include you?'
'No; I'm sitting on the fence, which is never terribly comfortable. But in case you're right - I don't want to wait here and take whatever's coming. I believe there's an answer to every problem, if you look in the right place.'
'I'll be delighted to hear it. I've been looking hard enough. Presumably not in the right place.'
'Perhaps. If we want to make a quick getaway - say in fifteen days, to beat that deadline - we'll need an extra delta-vee of about thirty kilometres a second.'
'So Vasili calculates. I haven't bothered to check, but I'm sure he's right. After all, he got us here.'
'And he could get us away - if we had the additional propellant.'
'And if we had a Star Trek beam transporter, we could get back to Earth in an hour.'
'I'll try and rig one up the next time I have a spare moment. But meanwhile, may I point out that we have several hundred tons of the best possible propellant, only a few metres away in Discovery's fuel tanks.'
'We've been through that dozens of times. There's absolutely no way of transferring it to Leonov. We've no pipelines - no suitable pumps. And you can't carry liquid ammonia around in buckets, even in this part of the Solar System.'
'Exactly. But there's no need to do so.'
'Eh?'
'Burn it right where it is. Use Discovery as a first stage, to boost us home.'
If anyone except Walter Curnow had made the suggestion, Floyd would have laughed at him. As it was, his mouth dropped open and it was several seconds before he could think of a suitable comment. What finally emerged was: 'Damn. I should have thought of that.'
Sasha was the first they approached. He listened patiently, pursed his lips, then played a rallentando on his computer keyboard. When the answers flashed up, he nodded thoughtfully.
'You're right. It would give us the extra velocity we need to leave early. But there are practical problems -'
'We know. Fastening the ships together. The off-axis thrust when only Discovery's drive is operating. Cutting loose again at the critical moment. But there are answers to all of these.'
'I see you've been doing your homework. But it's a waste of time. You'll never convince Tanya.'
'I don't expect to - at this stage,' Floyd answered. 'But I'd like her to know that the possibility exists. Will you give us moral support?'
'I'm not sure. But I'll come along to watch; it should be interesting.'
Tanya listened more patiently than Floyd had expected, but with distinct lack of enthusiasm. However, by the time he had finished, she showed what could only be called reluctant admiration.
'Very ingenious, Heywood -,
'Don't congratulate me. All the credit should go to Walter. Or the blame.'
'I don't imagine there will be much of either; it can never be more than a - what did Einstein call that sort of thing? - "thought experiment". Oh, I suspect it would work - in theory, at least. But the risks! So many things could go wrong. I'd only be prepared to consider it if we had absolute and positive proof that we were in danger. And with all respect, Heywood, I see not the slightest evidence of that.'
'Fair enough; but at least you now know that we have another option. Do you mind if we work out the practical details - just in case?'
'Of course not - as long as it doesn't interfere with the preflight checkout. I don't mind admitting that the idea does intrigue me. But it's really a waste of time; there's no way I'd ever approve it. Unless David Bowman appeared to me personally.'
'Would you even then, Tanya?'
Captain Orlova smiled, but without much humour. 'You know, Heywood - I'm really not sure. He'd have to be very persuasive.'
2010 Odyssey Two
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