Boundary

  He indicated a petite blonde woman to his left. "Madeline Fathom, security liaison. You are already acquainted with Mr. Baker and Ms. Secord."

  The Fathom woman smiled brilliantly, an expression Joe couldn't help but echo.

  She's one cute package. And I think she knows it. And if she's doing security liaison, she's not just ornamental, that's for sure.

  "Ms. Diane Sodher, Information Analysis." The redhead in the lab coat waved.

  Was that the one A.J. mentioned? If so, I'm impressed—I don't think I'd be keeping my mind on my work with her flirting with me.

  "Dr. Satya Gupta, Senior Engineer." Dr. Gupta gave a courteous nod, his dark eyes studying Joe.

  A.J. called him right. Face like a prophet, eyes like magnets. He's got that presence thing going.

  "Dr. Wen Hsien Wu." Dr. Wu was a young, round-faced Chinese-American who resembled a youthful Buddha or an Asian cherub. He smiled and bowed slightly from his seated position.

  I think Jackie said Wu is the top contender for physician on board Nike. He must be hell on wheels to be that good at his age. He can't be much older than A.J.

  "Everyone, Dr. Joe Buckley, Senior Engineer at Ares." Joe was torn between a nod, a wave, and a bow. He wound up more or less doing all three at once, which probably looked incredibly stupid. Fortunately, no one laughed.

  "Colonel Kenneth Hathaway, Acting Director, Project Nike," General Deiderichs concluded. The name immediately brought Joe's memory in focus. The colonel was one of the best-known and most experienced astronauts in the U.S. space program. Joe had seen his photograph several times, although this was the first time they'd ever met in person.

  The stocky Hathaway smiled at Joe and gestured for him to sit down. Joe realized he'd reached a seat, right across from A.J. and Jackie, but hadn't sat down yet. He did so quickly.

  "Now that we are all introduced," the general continued, "let's get to business. I know most of you have some idea of the subject of this meeting, but in my opinion it will not hurt to go over it again, and this will bring our new members up to speed. Colonel, if you would?"

  The general seated himself, and Hathaway took over. "As we all know, the ISMs—Independent Sensor Modules, what Mr. Baker calls his 'Faeries'—were released at a distance of slightly over one hundred and sixty kilometers from Phobos at 1600 hours local time on the 14th of this month. ISM-1, code-named Ariel, reached Phobos vicinity at 1745, the other three arriving an hour or so later. A survey to map possible water vapor outgassing sources from Phobos was begun as planned at 2100 hours. This survey indicated two potential sources for this outgassing, as seen here."

  A 3-D projection appeared in the display at the center of the table, showing a false-color plot of vapor concentrations and likely emission points.

  "Verifying the existence of native sources of water is deemed to be of great importance for the Phobos Base component of the Nike mission. Accordingly, at 0130 on the 15th, Ariel was directed to examine both locations to determine the possibility of tracing the source of the outgassing material. The first location was a small crack in the surface of the moon, but the second proved to be a much larger fissure—sufficiently large to permit one of the ISMs to enter. As all other ISMs were functioning properly, Mr. Baker decided that the potential risk of losing one of the four was outweighed by the possibility of verifying the existence of water sources within the moon, and possibly discerning other important information about Phobos' structure and composition. Therefore, at 0335, Ariel descended into the interior of Phobos to search for the source of outgassing."

  Joe noticed that even though no one else had been speaking, the room seemed to have gone even quieter. Whatever the others knew, they seemed to be almost holding their breaths.

  "A little more than two hours later—to be precise, at 0552 local time—Independent Sensor Module-1, named Ariel, recorded this image."

  The central display blanked, to be replaced with a large, detailed color image of a bronzish, three-sided plaque covered with strange symbols.

  Joe just stared at the image for a moment. "What the hell is that?" he muttered.

  "Precisely what we would like to know, Dr. Buckley," the general said bluntly.

  "Well, in one sense we know exactly what it is," A.J. stated. "It's an artifact of a nonhuman civilization. Yeah, we don't know if it's an underground street sign, their equivalent of a historic marker like 'George Washington Alien slept here,' or a radiation warning. But the important thing is that we didn't put it there, and it's been there a really long time, and it's not natural."

  Joe knew he sounded slow, but he couldn't help it. "Hold on. You found an alien artifact on Phobos?"

  Dr. Wen Hsien Wu apparently shared his reaction. "I had known something unusual had been discovered in the survey, but this . . . General, why is this not in the news? It is not at all a matter for debate, as I see it. This is wonderful news! We are not alone! Why are we not broadcasting this image for all to see? And what other images have we acquired? Why—"

  General Deiderichs raised his hand. "Dr. Wu, you are not alone in asking these questions. In fact, it is specifically to address these issues that we have called this meeting. Ms. Fathom?"

  Madeline Fathom stood. "First, Dr. Wu, I'd like to make clear that in an ideal world, and in my own heart, I'm of your own opinion. I'd like nothing better than to throw the informational gates wide and let the world see it all. But this isn't an ideal world, and neither General Deiderichs nor myself are free to act just on what we feel."

  She made a smooth, rippling gesture which Joe found jarringly familiar. After a moment, he recognized it as very similar to A.J.'s, when he was using a VRD display interface for controlling various peripherals. The display in the table's center faded to show a slowly-moving tunnel scene.

  "The wonderful nature of this discovery, unfortunately, has become part of the problem. What we appear to have here is a fairly intact alien space installation. A.J. Baker, and others, are of the opinion that it's very unlikely any of the actual devices we may find there will be functional. However, many of them may be intact enough to be studied."

  "And it wouldn't do to have just anyone studying such things, would it?" A.J.'s voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  Fathom sighed. "Mr. Baker, I understand your hostility, but would you mind terribly much not directing it at me? Please? We're not making these decisions."

  As A.J. opened his mouth, she interjected: "And if you make some smartass geek comment about 'just following orders' in a stupid German accent, I will actually get annoyed."

  A.J.'s mouth snapped shut. Joe's estimate of the delicate-looking blonde woman shot upward. It wasn't easy to cut off A.J. at the pass, but she'd done it.

  "The simple fact is that unless these aliens did everything exactly as we do, and never got past our own level of technology, the potential discoveries awaiting us in that base are revolutionary. We may not be at war with anyone, but we also have had many reasons to suspect the completely benign intentions of many other countries. Not to mention any number of paranational organizations. Therefore this project now falls under the category of a national security matter."

  Joe shook his head. "Sorry, Ms. Fathom, but you know that's not going to work very long. You can't fake up the data that good. Hell, I got here because I knew something funny was up."

  That unexpectedly brilliant smile flashed out again. "You're quite correct, Dr. Buckley. Some of the truth—most of it, I imagine—will be revealed immediately. But critical information must be controlled, and that is where I come in. General Deiderichs will be directing the overall operation, but I've been assigned to help sort the released information into categories we can release and those that will be kept restricted, at least until careful study has been concluded."

  Joe nodded slowly. If done by someone who really understood how the different investigations of the projects were carried on, it just might work, at least for a while. There would be knowledge of the existence of the alien base, but
the artifact analysis could take an indeterminate amount of time.

  "We were debating how to contact Ares and discuss the situation, when Mr. Baker informed us that you were coming over here. While, in a way, we might have preferred to talk to Glenn Friedet, the two of you actually constitute a considerable proportion of the 'guiding lights' of Ares. So we will at least discuss the basics with you, and then get into details with the rest of the main staff later. I think you can understand that, at this point, the government can no longer afford the risk of independent private flights in a potential security situation such as exists on Phobos."

  Chapter 18

  Joe and A.J. both stood up. A.J. looked so threatening that General Deiderichs seemed about ready to rise from his own seat. To her credit, the diminutive security official did not so much as twitch.

  "You are not saying what I think you're saying," A.J. snarled, before Joe could get out something similar. "I did not design and build the Faeries, map out Phobos, and walk through a fucking fire storm just to hand it over to the government to screw up. You can't stop us!"

  "Mr. Baker, we most certainly can stop you; and if we have to, we will." Fathom's voice was calm and level. "But we would much rather work with you."

  "And just how do you think that's going to happen? No offense to some of the people here, but NASA's brand of 'build the worst compromise we can think of' is exactly what we're trying to avoid."

  Joe cut in to prevent A.J. from expressing something in even stronger terms. "Ares' approach is completely contrary to NASA's, Ms. Fathom. And it shouldn't matter to you, anyway. Ares really, honestly, has no interest whatsoever in Phobos. If you want to declare it off limits, that's fine with us. We're going to Mars."

  "How I wish it were that simple, Joe—can I call you Joe? That's a very nice argument if we look at it narrowly, but the government can't afford to do that. To be blunt, we have no idea where these aliens came from—or come from, since for all we know they're still around. Maybe from Mars itself. And even if they weren't, there's no reason they might not have settled Mars. At this point, we have to assume that Mars may also be a critical site for investigation, at least pending our full exploration of this base."

  Joe opened his mouth to protest more, as did A.J., but neither of them could get a word out. The ludicrous idea that Mars—an entire planet whose surface area was equal to that of all land masses on Earth combined—was a 'site for investigation' simply beggared speech. Phobos itself was potentially huge, depending on how many aliens had lived there, and how many tunnels they'd carved over their time of residence. Putting Mars off limits because there might be something down there was like an Egyptologist insisting that no one visit North America because it happened to be on the same planet and might have vital Egyptian relics hidden on it . . . somewhere.

  But it was equally clear that the decision had already been made—probably not by Fathom, or Deiderichs, but someone else. Fathom might even understand how ridiculous it was, but she wasn't about to say so.

  "Well," he finally said, glaring at A.J. to keep him from detonating. "Look, then, what the hell are you offering? From what I'm hearing, you're telling us to shut down."

  "That, Joe, is because you and Mr. Baker didn't let me finish anything I was trying to say."

  When the two blinked and looked slightly apologetic, she gave about a half-power smile and continued. "Gentlemen, Ares is in this thing already. And this is the real world, not an idiotic conspiracy theory novel. Even if the U.S. government wanted to, we couldn't make people like A.J. just disappear."

  Again, the full-bore smile. Despite the animosity of the moment, Joe was a bit dazzled by the woman. And he couldn't help but notice the easy charm with which she'd just managed to segue into getting even A.J. on a first name basis.

  "If you think the government manages the space program ineptly," Fathom continued, chuckling softly, "I can assure you that it manages conspiracies even worse. Or have you forgotten Watergate and—" She waved her hand, still smiling. "And all the other—what was that marvelous expression of yours, A.J.? Oh, yes. And all the other brilliant conspiracies built by the worst compromise the conspirators could think of, which have dazzled the American electorate over the decades. Not to mention turning two Presidents out of office."

  That drew a laugh, even from A.J.

  Fathom shook her head. "So, please relax. Yes, we're having a dispute. But let's keep the melodrama out of it. As I said, even if the government wanted to, we can't 'disappear' a single individual like Mr. Baker or Dr. Buckley—let alone the entire Ares Project. Not without producing a fire storm, for a certainty. We need your cooperation, people, not your antagonism. We can't let you keep going exactly as you were. But we can do something else."

  She paused briefly. "Think, everyone. What is going to happen when this is announced?"

  "Uproar from every quarter of the world," Joe said. Similar comments were heard around the table.

  A.J., for once, didn't say anything, but his expression was that of someone having bitten into a chocolate-covered grasshopper and finding it didn't taste nearly as bad as he thought it would. His blue glare was fading—or perhaps sharpening—to a speculative stare.

  "You are all touching on the initial reaction, but missing the practical point," Fathom said. "What will happen is that every nation with even a pretense to a space program will, as you say, 'want in' on the investigation. And to make sure that no one beats us there, I think you can rest assured that there will be a quite unprecedented increase in NASA's budget, a streamlining of its mandate, and an elimination of a great deal of the political wrangling that is normal business in this realm. We will not be sending a relatively few people to Phobos and Mars to demonstrate that we can beat private industry. We will be sending an investigative team to stake out the entirety of that moon and wring every tiny secret we can from the remains of that alien base. We will want, at the very least, to make a start at investigating the planet that they, evidently, found of interest as well. And we will be doing it as fast as we possibly can, with a virtually unlimited budget."

  She smiled anew. "And as there is one other American organization that is already ready and able to prepare for landing on both Mars and Phobos, with trained and skilled personnel, we will naturally want to expend some of our budget in recruiting the assistance of the Ares Project."

  Fathom turned to face A.J. squarely. "A.J., how would you like to go to Phobos yourself—on board a new, much bigger Nike?"

  The expression on A.J.'s face almost made Joe laugh out loud. So that's what someone looks like when the Devil offers them their heart's desire for that little, insignificant trifle of a soul.

  "You can't promise that." A.J.'s voice was weak.

  "Not quite yet," Fathom conceded. "But I think we can if the new budgets we expect get passed. And if you keep giving us results like these"—she indicated the tunnel scene, where a closed, enigmatic doorway etched with unknown characters was just passing from view—"and can promise better on-site . . . I think you could bet on it."

  She looked down the table. "Unless you have an objection to the idea, Colonel Hathaway?"

  Hathaway had been quiet, just observing for the most part. Addressed directly, he shook his head. "In principle, no. It's true that

  A.J. Baker is no longer in prime physical condition, since the accident. But if, as you imply, we make Nike a much larger vessel with a larger crew—which means we can afford some redundancy in personnel—that shouldn't be a major consideration. Especially since his demonstrated skills clearly make him the best choice for sensor work."

  "Very good." General Deiderichs spoke up, taking control once more. "Thank you, Ms. Fathom. Ladies, gentlemen, you now know the basic concept. The government recognizes this story will break, and break very soon. When it does, we intend to pressure the legislature to give us the budget, priorities, and authority to proceed at maximum speed to assemble the hardware and personnel for a full-scale expeditionary mission to Phobos.
We consider this to be of paramount concern for the security and interests of the United States and of the world at large. The Ares Project will provide its specific expertise in rapid and efficient independent missions to assist NASA, not only in designing Nike and her auxiliary systems, but in designing, assembling, and launching multiple supply missions for both Phobos and Mars destinations. Am I correct in assuming, Dr. Buckley, that with a sufficient budget you could prepare and launch a number of large-payload missions which would reach Mars within a year to a year and a half?"