The Trigger

  THE TRIGGER

  by

  Arthur C. Clarke & Michael Kube-McDowell

  * * *

  Contents

  Prologue: The Chosen

  I: Trigger

  1: Anomaly

  2: Mystery

  3: Secrecy

  4: Inquiry

  5: Chemistry

  6: Journey

  7: Strategy

  8: Amity

  9: Colloquy

  10: Exigency

  11: Military

  12: Apostasy

  13: Enginery

  14: Opportunity

  15: Trickery

  16: Perplexity

  17: Festivity

  18: Equity

  19: Guaranty

  20: Publicity

  21: Piracy

  22: Alchemy

  II: Jammer

  23: So Much Madness

  24: Weapons to Kill

  25: The Progress of Reason

  26: Forever Our Destiny

  27: Summons to Greatness

  28: Not Made for Defeat

  29: To Promote Peace

  30: Harder than War

  31: From Savage to Scholar

  32: Never a Bad Peace

  III: Killer

  * * *

  THE TRIGGER

  Arthur C. Clarke was born in Somerset in 1917. He is a graduate of King's College, London (where he obtained a First Class Honours in Physics and Mathematics), a past Chairman of the British Interplanetary Society, and a member of the Academy of Astronautics, the Royal Astronomical Society, and may other scientific organizations. He served in the RAF during the Second World War and was in charge of the first radar talk-down equipment during its experimental trials. He wrote a monograph for Wireless World in 1945 predicting satellite communications, and did it so well that when the first commercial satellites were launched twenty years later they could not be patented. Arthur C. Clarke has for many years made his home in Sri Lanka. He is chancellor of a university there and founder of the Arthur C. Clarke Centre for Advanced Technology. He was awarded the CBE in 1989 and knighted in 1998.

  Michael Kube-McDowell was born in 1954 and grew up in southern New Jersey. He holds a master's degree in science education from Indiana University and was honoured for teaching excellence by the 1985 White House Commission on Presidential Scholars. Novelist, teacher, photographer, musician, screenwriter, Kube-McDowell is a father of three and a 'spaceflight geek'. He has written scripts for the tv series Tales From the Darkside. His novels include the thousand-year Trigon Disunity future history and the Star Wars trilogy The Black Fleet Crisis. His novel The Quiet Pools was nominated for the Hugo Award.

  * * *

  Also by Arthur C. Clarke

  2001 A Space Odyssey

  2010 Odyssey Two

  2061 Odyssey Three

  3001 The Final Odyssey

  Islands in the Sky

  Prelude to Space

  Against the Fall of Night

  The Sands of Mars

  Childhood's End

  Expeditions to Earth

  Earthlight

  Reach for Tomorrow

  The City and the Stars

  The Deep Range

  The Other Side of the Sky

  A Fall of Moondust

  Tales of Ten Worlds

  Dolphin Island

  Glide Path

  The Lion of Comarre

  The Nine Billion Names of God

  The Lost Worlds of 2001

  The Wind From the Sun

  Rendezvous with Rama

  Imperial Earth

  The Fountains of Paradise

  1984: Spring

  The Sentinel

  The Songs of Distant Earth

  Also by Michael Kube-McDowell

  The Trigon Disunity future history

  Star Wars: The Black Fleet Crisis trilogy

  Alternities

  The Quiet Pools

  Exile

  * * *

  Voyager

  ARTHUR C. CLARKE

  and

  MICHAEL KUBE-McDOWELL

  THE TRIGGER

  HarperCollinsPublishers

  * * *

  Voyager

  An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

  www. voyager-books.com

  Special overseas edition 2000 This paperback edition 2000 987654321

  First published in Great Britain by Voyager 1999

  Copyright © Arthur C. Clarke and Michael Kube-McDowell 1999

  The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  ISBN 0 00 648383 6 Set in Meridien

  Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  * * *

  Dedication

  To the memory of

  The children of Dunblane, Scotland

  And Jonesboro, Arkansas

  * * *

  Acknowledgements

  Any project of this size and scope owes much to people whose names do not appear on the cover. At the top of the list is an indispensable team of publishing pros including agents Russell Galen and Danny Baror, Bantam Spectra editors Tom Dupree and Pat Lobrutto, and HarperCollins editors Jane Johnson and Joy Chamberlain. Without their contributions, we would never have been able to start this journey, much less hold on to see our journey's end.

  With the principals scattered across twelve time zones, the Internet was an essential tool for keeping in touch and staying on the same page. It also proved to be a superb research tool. The Web provided round-the-clock access to an amazing wealth of information and opinion (a partial bibliography of Web sites is available at http://www.sff.net/people/K-Mac/trigger.htm). At the same time, a variety of Internet newsgroups (from rec.aviation.military to talk.politics.guns) offered both an international cast of volunteer experts and a rich tapestry of passions and philosophies in conflict.

  Among the many individuals who extended themselves as a courtesy to the authors were Georgia Whidden at the Institute for Advanced Study; Dr Rick Langolf; Daniel K. Jarrell; Commander Cole Pierce, USN (retired); Dr Graham P. Collins; Major Billy Harvey, USAF (retired); Jeff Crowell; Lieutenant Colonel Les Matheson, USAF; Paul J. Adam; Robert Brown; Todd Elmer; Scott Rosenthal; and Urban Fredriksson. They are not at all responsible, of course, for any abuse of their kindness and expertise, nor for advice not taken.

  Finally, the most heartfelt thanks go to those closest to hand, to the dear friends and family who provided aid and comfort throughout the long gestation of The Trigger. Their contributions to our endeavors have been - and continue to be - innumerable and inestimable.

  Michael P. Kube-McDowell, May 1999

  * * *

  Dramatis Personae

  At Terabyte Laboratories:

  Karl Brohier, senior director

  Jeffrey Alan Horton, associate director

  Gordon Greene, electrical and mechanical engineer

  Leigh Thayer, experimental information systems specialist

  Donovan King, director of site security

  Eric Fleet, security officer

  Val Bowden, engineering physicist at the Annex

&
nbsp; In Washington, D.C.:

  Senator Grover Wilman, founder of Mind Over Madness

  President Mark Breland

  Richard Nolby, Chief of Staff

  Roland Stepak, Secretary of Defense

  Devon Carrero, Secretary of State

  Attorney General Doran Douglas

  Aimee Rochet, director of public relations

  Edgar Mills, FBI Director

  Jacob Hilger, director of the Defense Intelligence Agency

  Elsewhere:

  Aron Goldstein, owner of Aurum Industries and principal investor in Terabyte Laboratories John Samuel Trent, president of the NAR Jules Merchant, president of military contractor Allied

  General

  Philby Lancaster, attorney for the NAR Robert Wilkins, regional commander of the People's Army of Righteous Justice

  * * *

  PROLOGUE: The Chosen

  With resignation, Jeffrey Horton surveyed the clutter in the hardware-filled second bedroom he and his roommate self-mockingly called The Black Hole.

  Data disks and tapes were scattered under and across the several tables, and a mortally wounded CD-ROM was pinned under the caster of one of the chairs. Assorted first-generation computer components and test gear formed precarious mounds of metal and plastic in the corners. There was a jumble of cables on the seat of Horton's chair, and a sagging, badly overloaded shelf of books and manuals loomed over the large monitor like a sword of Damocles.

  The normal level of chaos in The Black Hole was one that only another gearhead could love - most of Horton's friends had at least one room like it. But it was obvious from the overflowing cardboard boxes in the middle of the floor that Hal had been hitting the Silicon Valley electronics swap meets in the weeks Horton had been away.

  'If it's broken, I can fix it. If it works, I can use it,' was Hal's self-proclaimed motto. It was hard for him to say no to any flea-market bargain, whether it was a $50 refractometer, a $100 argon laser, or a complete Windows-era computer for $25. Somehow, the Black Hole absorbed them all.

  Resisting the temptation to paw through the boxes to appraise Hal's latest finds, Horton retreated from the room and firmly closed the door after him. The mound of dirty clothes on his bed and the accumulation of recyclables on the apartment balcony deserved higher priority than beating back entropy in what their landlord grumpily called 'an unlicensed salvage yard'.

  It was then that Horton heard someone knocking on the apartment door. The knocking was sharp and impatient, as though it had been going on for a while - which it might have been, since it was competing with the white noise of the elderly dishwasher whooshing and rumbling away in the tiny kitchen.

  Hastening to respond, Horton only glanced at the corridor monitor long enough to see that the caller was a silver-haired man in a long cloth coat. Releasing both locks, he opened the door to the floor stop.

  'Hello - I'm looking for -' the caller began. Then he straightened his shoulders and smiled broadly. 'Well, and here you are.'

  Horton was staring dumbly at a face that had no business appearing at his door. 'You're Karl Brohier,' he said, blinking and shaking his head. He had no precedent for how he should act when a Nobel Laureate appeared at his door like a campus missionary, and fell back on repeating himself. 'You're Karl Brohier.'

  'I know,' said the older man, his head cocked at a slight angle. 'And you're Jeffrey Alan Horton.' He gestured with the bottle of wine he was carrying. 'May I come in?'

  'Uh - of course, Dr Brohier,' Horton said, retreating a step and allowing the door to open fully.

  'Karl,' the visitor corrected.

  Horton could not allow himself such presumptuous familiarity, and so simply nodded acknowledgement. 'I have to apologize for the mess. I just got back from being away for most of three months -'

  'Yes, I know,' said Brohier as he brushed past. 'How did you like it in the Midwest?'

  'Uh -I wasn't ready for snow in the spring.'

  Brohier grunted in amusement as he searched for a place to sit down. 'And Marsh Tolliver - how did you find him?'

  Tolliver was the director of the National Superconducting Cyclotron Laboratory at Michigan State University, where Horton had gone to trade months of service as a volunteer intern for sixty minutes of cyclotron time in support of his doctoral thesis. 'He has high expectations,' Horton said.

  'You are too polite,' said Brohier, settling on the one kitchen chair not piled high with mail. The student disease. You will get over it.'

  'I-'

  Tolliver is a tin-god bureaucrat masquerading as a scientist -unfortunately, all too common for the top post at government sites. All of the good work that comes out of the NSCL nowadays is due to Ginger Frantala, the assistant director. I'm sure that she's the one Professor Huang spoke to to arrange your visit. Did you get what you needed out of your time there?'

  There seemed to be nothing about him that Brohier did not already know. 'The results supported my thesis.'

  'Excellent. I look forward to seeing them. Are you going to publish?'

  'In a refereed journal? I'm not sure it merits -'

  'Oh, I think it does. From what the old tiger told me - the old tiger. He loves that nickname, you know. It would do you no harm at all to arrange to let him overhear you calling him that.' Brohier chuckled to himself. 'Send your paper to Physical Letters B. I'm on the referee list there. I'd give it a fair reading.'

  'Dr Brohier -'

  'Karl,' the visitor insisted.

  Horton flashed a quick grimace, then nodded. 'Karl,' he said. 'Karl, you are looking at one very confused person. I mean, it's a great honor to meet you. I've read your papers, I was delighted when you won your Nobel Prize. I consider it a privilege to be having this conversation -'

  Brohier waved off the praise. 'I'm already sixty-seven years old, Jeffrey. Get to your point.'

  Gesturing with both hands, Horton asked, 'Why are you here? Forgive me, but it's sort of like having Miss April show up at a frat house.'

  An easy surprised laugh softened Brohier's dramatic features. 'And ask the president out on a date,' he said.

  'Yeah,' Horton agreed. 'About that improbable.'

  'Life is improbable - but real. I came here to ask you what you're doing for the next ten years,' said Brohier. 'If you have nothing better to do, I wonder if you might consider coming to work for me.'

  'Excuse me?'

  'The Nobel Prize does open doors - not only yours,' said Brohier. 'Not quite a year ago, a very forward-thinking man named Aron

  Goldstein approached me about establishing a new research center. I told him there was only one way I'd be interested - if he would let me collect as many of the top young minds as I could and give them the tools and freedom to pursue whatever they thought promising.'

  'Sounds like grad school without grades.'

  Brohier smiled. 'I told him I didn't want to run a bottom-line-driven gadget factory, that I thought what we needed was an idea factory, working at the boundaries, pushing back the boundaries.'

  'New science creates new opportunities.'

  'Yes, it does,' said Brohier. 'It always has. I told him I wouldn't sign off on a business plan, couldn't tell him what we would come up with or how much it would be worth, couldn't promise him anything concrete. Then he asked me how much money I've made from my patents and licenses on solid-state memory, and I told him. He said that was good enough for him, and we shook hands.

  'In about five months, Jeffrey, I will put on my administrator's hat and open the doors of a state-of-the-art research campus being built on fourteen hundred acres outside Columbus, Ohio. I'd like to have you there from day one. Are you interested?'

  'Just tell me who I have to kill,' Morton said.

  Brohier grinned broadly. 'This bottle contains a cork,' he said, gesturing at the wine. 'Does this apartment contain a corkscrew?'

  'It did when I left.'

  Then endeavor to locate it, arid you and I will kill this fine Bordeaux - and a few of our gray cell
s - together,' said Brohier. 'Welcome to Terabyte Labs, Jeffrey. Start thinking about what you want to work on next.' Brohier's eyes glowed with an undisguised prideful delight. 'And start adjusting to the idea that you're about to become the envy of all those who wish they could call themselves your peers.'

  * * *

  I: Trigger

  1: Anomaly

  'Vox,' Jeffrey Alan Morton said to his car. The voice-command indicator glowed on the instrument panel, and a heads-up menu appeared on the windshield. 'News, national.'

  '- Attorney General John Woo is expected to release final plans for the twice-postponed murder trial against Melvin Hills and eight other members of the "God's Assassins" anti-abortion group. The defendants face five counts of murder in the deadly rocket attack on the Planned Parenthood facility in San Leandro.

  ' "We promise the defendants a fair trial, the court a safe trial, and the victims a just conviction."

  The unusual virtual trial is expected to be conducted entirely on the high-speed G2Net, with judge, jurors, prosecutors, and defendants at widely scattered secret locations. In January, the first jury was dismissed when several members received death threats -'

  'Vox,' said Horton. 'News, local.'

  '- Women's health services providers in the Greater Columbus area were reluctant to discuss any additional security measures, but Deputy Police Commander Jeanne Ryberg promised "maximum vigilance" throughout the high-profile trial.

  '"We know what the Assassins are capable of, and we're not going to allow it to happen here -"'

  Horton sighed. The San Leandro trial hadn't even started yet, and he was already tired of hearing about it. But the story was receiving saturation coverage, and the only relief available was to stay away from broadcast media for the next month. 'Vox. Radio off,' he said, spinning the wheel for a right turn onto Shanahan Road.