The Lure Part 11

'Theyve terraformed their planet, Gibson suggested.

'Can you zoom in on it? Petrie asked. 'Anywhere on the surface.

A little wedge of lip grew until it filled the screen: a ma.s.s of coloured ping-pong b.a.l.l.s.

'Now can you do a contour map on that? They must have given us a graph-drawing package.

Svetlana created a fresh window on the screen and threw up a long list of programs. 'I dont recognise anything there.

'Mathematica. I can work it. Svetlana vacated her chair, which creaked slightly as Shtyrkov sat on it. He typed at the keyboard for a minute, then redisplayed the wedge of planet. Now the ping-pong b.a.l.l.s disappeared and were swiftly replaced by an irregular, contoured surface.

'Its amazingly mountainous, Svetlana said. 'Look at those cliffs.

'Where is this planet? Gibson wanted to know.

Freya moved back to her terminal. 'The zones are still narrowing down. At the moment theyre constellation-sized. Okay, if the particles came through the lake from above, their source is somewhere in Ursa Major. If they came up from below, its in maybe Tucana or Phoenix.

'How long before you get a definite answer?

'A couple of hours, Charlie.

'Two hours?

'Its a big job.

'Is there anything interesting in the two zones so far?

'Plenty. The Whirlpool galaxy, the 47 Tucanae cl.u.s.ter, Nubecula Minor...

'I mean from the ET point of view, as well you know.

'Charlie, I cant rule out anything right now.

'Guess, will you? Gibsons tone was exasperated.

'I suppose theres 47 Ursa Majoris, Freya said doubtfully.

'Which is?

She spoke while she typed. 'Its a G1 main sequence star, like the Sun only slightly hotter. It has two known planets around it. Too far away to see directly and we only know theyre there because they make the star wobble. But the planets are gas giants, bigger than Jupiter, and they certainly wont look like that.

'It could have other planets?

'Yes, Charlie, but so could millions of other stars in the zones.

'How far away is it?

'Let me see. A slender finger skimmed down the screen. 'Forty-six light years. Not too distant.

'47 Ursa Majoris, Gibson said. 'It sounds good. I have a gut feeling about it.

'My gut is bigger than yours, Shtyrkov said. 'And it tells me the odds are against this star.

'Before I contact the government I want a positive identification of this planet.

'And youll want it for the press release, Shtyrkov suggested. 'It will enhance the drama.

'The press release, yes. I must put something together. Gibson scurried towards a corner desk, leaving Petrie to wonder if the Russian had cunningly manoeuvred Gibson out of their hair.

Petrie sat at a terminal and hacked into the enormous file, randomly entering about halfway through. He ran the movie briefly; more swirling dots appeared, but now he knew, if not the mind of the signallers, at least the way they dumbed the message down. He sliced time, stacked it and this time it didnt work; there was no picture, no pleasing shape, just a haphazard swarm of dots.

'Theyre sending a different sort of message. Shtyrkov was leaning over his shoulder.

'I think so, Vash. Something that doesnt lend itself to geometric visualisation.

'Like something in four or more dimensions?

'Maybe.

The Russian laid a sympathetic hand on Petries shoulder. 'Back to the theological library, young man.

'To h.e.l.l with the theological library. Petrie started to hack randomly into other points in the file, a small boy lost in an Aladdins cave of mysteries.

After an hour he rubbed his face, stretched, and went out to the castle grounds. The sky was blue. Icicles of lethal size were hanging down from the high rooftops and he wondered idly if the warming air would send them hurtling down. He wandered across to the parapet, looked out over the countryside and almost immediately had a disturbing thought. He turned smartly back into the office. Gibson was scribbling; the others were doing their things at terminals and there was an air of quiet concentration.

'Svetlana, can you throw up those canyons and mountains again?

She obliged.

'The regularitys amazing. Can you go back to the full view now?

The Man in the Moon reappeared.

'Look at the edges. Its not exactly spherical. There are flattish plains, like continental plates, as well as b.u.mps all over.

'Obviously. Gibson had rejoined them. 'Its a very mountainous planet.

'Theres more to it than that, Petrie said.

Freya was looking at the screen with narrowed eyes. 'Ive been thinking that, too, Tom. In fact, Im way ahead of you.

Petrie said, 'Yes! Its bizarre.

'I dont want to interrupt your private telepathy, Gibson said, 'but would either of you people care to let me in on the secret?

Freya unconsciously flipped her hair back over her shoulder. 'Charlie, the Earth is eight thousand miles across and Mount Everest is six miles high. Its a tiny blip on the surface. Thats because gravity is too strong to support a taller mountain. If Everest was pushed up much higher, the rock at its base would crumble. She pointed at a couple of places on the screen. 'Look at the height of these mountains. They couldnt exist on an Earth-sized planet.

'So gravitys weaker there. Its a small planet.

'Yes, a very small one. It couldnt be more than a thousand kilometres across, say like a giant comet or an asteroid. Thats your reasoning, Tom?

Petrie nodded.

Freya continued. 'But an asteroids gravity is too weak to hold on to an atmosphere. Any body of liquid water would long since have been lost to s.p.a.ce. And youve been telling us that water is essential for life.

Svetlana looked meditatively at the screen. 'How could any sentient being be content to live on a dry airless hunk of rock?

Freya said, 'Its not a hunk of rock, Svetlana.

Shtyrkov looked at the image, and then at Freya and Petrie. 'Is it possible?

'Let me in on it, Gibson pleaded.

Petrie squeezed Svetlanas shoulder. 'Make it tumble.

Svetlana typed a few symbols and the Man in the Moon, mouth agape, tilted and disappeared, reappearing from time to time in random orientations.

'Look closely, Petrie said.

Svetlana said, 'Its not a sphere.

'No. Its an icosahedron.

'A what? Gibson was looking blank.

'Its made up of twenty triangular plates joined together. Look at it. See how it keeps coming back to the same shape. Thats because it looks exactly the same from sixty different orientations. Its one of the Platonic solids.

'Plato? Gibson repeated in exasperation. 'Tom, are we on different planes of reality or what?

'Charlie, an icosahedron is one of the most beautifully symmetric solid forms. Plato wanted to understand the world in terms of mathematics and harmony. He believed that tetrahedron, cube, octahedron and icosahedron made up earth, air, fire and water. Its all there in his Timaeus.

'So what are you saying? That the signallers have read Timaeus? That theyve shaped their planet like a Platonic b.l.o.o.d.y solid?

Petrie shook his head. 'Thats not a planet, Charlie. Its a virus.

13.

Moscow Chatline Phone ringing.

Its rasp penetrated layers of sleep and merged with a bizarre dream in which she was floating above a TV quiz show. An uncomprehending eyelid dragged itself open; green numbers on a bedside clock read 2.10 a.m.

Phone ringing, at ten past two in the morning.

Dasha! Theres been an accident!

She dragged herself fully awake. A sense of dread was.h.i.+ng over her, she threw back the blankets and stumbled through to the tiny living room.

Phone still ringing.

The window was partially open and a black electric cable snaked through the gap down to the battery of a silver Niva five flights below: it was the only way to ensure that her car would start in the minus thirty degrees of a Moscow winter. But the night air from this Moscow winter was drifting in through the gap and she gasped as she opened the living-room door and hurried towards the telephone. The sound of traffic, still rumbling at this hour, came up from the street below.

Still ringing.

Dont stop!

She banged a s.h.i.+n painfully on the edge of a low table. Keep ringing. Im almost there!

She found it, dropped the receiver, picked it up, trembling.

Professional voice, deep male: 'Tatyana Maranovich? A doctor or a surgeon. Dasha was in some hospital bed. No. This was a policeman. Her daughter was lying on a mortuary slab somewhere.

Tanyas voice and hands shook uncontrollably. 'Yes?

'My name is Vas.h.i.+slav Shtyrkov. I want to speak to Professor Velikhov. The duty clerk at the Academy referred me to you. May I have his home phone number?

Relief and anger struggled in her head, and relief won: Dasha was all right, probably tucked up with Alexei somewhere. Suddenly the bitter cold, which she had ignored, became an issue. 'Vas.h.i.+slav Shtyrkov, its two oclock in the morning.

'I know.

'I cant give the Professors name out to a stranger. I could lose my job.

'Let me give you an a.s.surance on that: you will lose it if you dont.

'Can you tell me what this is about?

'No.

'At least tell me who you are.

'A colleague, from the old days.

Something stirred in Tanyas mind. 'Are you the one who called the Professor about that castle in Slovakia?

'I am the one. Now will you give me his number?

'No, Im not allowed to do that. But if you give me yours Ill relay it to him.

'That will suffice. But you must give it to him now.

'At this hour? The Professor will not thank me for that. She was now s.h.i.+vering inside her thick flannel nightgown.

'On the contrary, Tanya Maranovich, if you call him now he will bring you lilies from the Nile and suns.h.i.+ne from Mexico.