A Simple Truth (3 page)

Lincoln's own speciality was the search for extraterrestrial life.  He had no doubts about the universality of intelligent life, the only problem was the very high probability that immense distance and time would separate intelligent races.  But now the search was over.  Humanity had been contacted directly by an alien race.  And what a contact
it was
.  A clear, deliberate, unmistakable message, transmitted in a way that was certain to be received.  A con
tact from Procyon of all places;
in astronomical terms Procyon is practically
a next-
door neighbour.  That two intelligent civilisations should exist so close together in both space and time was utterly incredible. 
It was a
momentous revelation that poured scorn on the predictions of distance and time separation.

Lincoln gradually recovered his powers of reasoning and deduction.  He considered all these things and tried to measure their implications.  Whoever or whatever these people were he could not guess, but that they knew of humanity's existence there was no doubt.  Lincoln realised that years ago they had detected radio signals from earth.  They had decoded them and learned the meaning of human words.  They must by now know practically all there was to know of our planet, our way of life, our successes and failures, our loves and hates.  Knowing all this they had decided to make a direct contact, to reveal to us that they knew.

Lincoln suddenly felt a cold shiver run down his spine.  There was a very sinister aspect to this contact.  Here we were, confronted by a technological race of unknown power, certa
inly they must be our superiors;
to have detected and decoded our messages was strong evidence for that.  And they knew all about us, we could not and had not kept any secrets from them.  Surely the entire collective knowledge of the human race had been transmitted at one time or another.  We had laid bare our very soul to these aliens, and that soul was not pleasant.  They must know all about our wars, our behaviour towards our own kind and to our companions the animals.  How would the aliens react to us?  Indeed how had they reacted?  Any fair, just race of beings must surely be offended at the history of the human race.  Humanity would no doubt find out very soon for good or ill.

The quiet period was over.  Lincoln had needed to reflect on what had happened but now there were things to do.  No matter what happened from now on this had to be a turning point in the history of the world.  No longer could we act purely for ourselves, for ever onwards we would know that we were being watched.

He hurried back to the control room.  His mind had cleared and once again he was in control.  He felt angry with his former need for tranquillity.  What had he been thinking of?  Mankind was in a situation of staggering implications.  We could be on the brink of unimaginable knowledge and progress, or of annihilation.

Back at working level the uproar could be heard before the elevator doors opened.  It seemed that the entire
staff of the
base was
either
in
,
or trying to get into
,
the tiny control room.  Everyone was talking at once and Lincoln was reminded of a large retail store on the first day of a sale.

"Out
,"
he yelled.  "Come o
ut;
go back to your own sections."

He seldom had to pull rank on anyone but when necessary he could play the tough guy.  People began to move away reluctantly.  A few more sharp orders and all unnecessary personnel had departed.

"OK Dag, what's the latest?"

"The same signal was repeated a couple of minutes ago, a longer gap than Jack Arnold said."

"Anything on one
gig
yet?"

"Nothing:
  I hope the signal isn't too weak to pick up, we might be missing the most important broadcast in history."

"No, sur
ely not
:
i
f they can send such a high energy signal to attract our attention the other can't be so much weaker.  Besides, if they understand our language they must know our capabilities.  We'll just have to keep monitoring and hope something comes in eventually."

***************

Lincoln
didn't sleep at all that night.  He stayed in the control room, patiently listening to the haunting message each time it came in.  Disappointingly there was nothing on the promised one
giga
hertz.

Procyon would be in the lunar sky for only another
eight
days.  After that
she
would be below the horizon and stay there for
two weeks
.  Any signals received then would be by terrestrial instruments only.  There were other bases on the moon but none had the necessary equipment to receive signals from a star.   Lincoln hoped desperately that the one
gig
ahertz signal strength would be adequate for terrestrial reception when and if it materialised.

He had no other thought than to stay right there waiting.  Whenever the proper transmissions began he intended to witness them personally.  He had no inkling of the role his background had uniquely suited him to play in the
unfold
ing drama.  He could never have known that his quiet, patient, research scientist life was over, and that his true worth to the world was soon to become very apparent.

3
   
F
amily
R
eunion

"A c
all for you Arthur,
Priority One, m
ust be important
,"
announced Sergio Baldoni.  It was Sergio's shift at the
communication
console which regulations stipulated had to be manned continuously; a duty usually undertaken by the radio staff since the console was located in their control room.

Lincoln sat up abruptly.  Sergio probably wasn't aware how important Priority One was.  No call higher than Priority Three had ever before been received at the base.  In the few seconds it took to
reach
the console he had considered about four different reasons for the call and dismissed them all.

"Lincoln here
, over
."

"Hello again Arthur, glad I've managed to get you so quickly.  Thought you might have been asleep
,"
said a vaguely familiar voice that he struggled to place.  'Get on with it
,'
he thought impatiently, still weighing possibilities.

"George Dent here, I have a proposition for you."

George Dent!
How could he not have known that
voice?
  George Dent, President of the World Space Administration.

A proposition to consider he had said.  A proposition from George Dent was an irrefutable order.  This man with his indomitable drive and enthusiasm had conceived the seemingly naive possibility of a world space organisation, independent of political, military
, commercial
or any other prejudiced interest.  The sheer weight of his personality and dogged persistence had mown down all objectors.  He achieved his goal and now ran his empire with efficiency and purpose.  Yet for people who shared his vision he was an approachable man.  His disposition was as warm
to those who were committed to his goals as it was cold to those who were not.  He inspired confidence and fired enthusiasm, and his influence had radically altered world attitudes to space research and exploration.  He had founded an unparalleled organisation, an interconnected mesh of investigation into all fields of science and technology.  And all with just one clear aim, to bring about what he believed
to be the birthright of mankind -
the freedom of the universe.  There was no-one anywhere more respected, honoured or admired.  Within the WSA his word was law, not because he would punish disobedience but because he was right.  He had the best interests of humanity at heart and everyone knew it.

"I want you to come and have a chat about this signal from Procyon.  We've been taken very much by surprise by the directness of the contact and I think we should put our heads together to sort out a plan of action.  What do you say?"

"Well I'm not sure how I can help but I'd be glad to try.  I'll come over on the next shuttle.  I'll have to check transport times and let you know but I can probably be at the WSA inside ten days."

"Thought you'd say that
.  I
n fact a ferry from Clavius is on its way over right now to pick you up.  I believe it will be there within the hour so you've just enou
gh time to pack your essentials;
your other gear can be sent later.  It might be a while before you're back with your telescopes."

Lincoln was speechless.  This was a bit sudden.  But then that was Dent, he would have an idea and set the wheels in motion immediately.  "Well...
right... I'd better get sorted out then."

"You do that Arthur, I'll be expecting you, see you soon
, o
ut."

Last minute instructions were unnecessary.  Lincoln's team was a highly trained and professional group of people who knew exactly what was expected of them.  In the short time available and with the shock still scrambling his thoughts he would not have been able to give any sensible directions in any case.  He did manage to dash round saying a brief farewell and
,
"See Sergio, he knows as much as I do
,"
in reply to the looks of bewilderment that met him.  An overnight bag was all he needed to pack.  All his working clothes and equipment were left at the base and his personal belongings were few.

A surface vehicle was quickly prepared to take him over to the launch pad.  A last word with his closest friends who had gathered to wish him well, a final wave and he was gone.  His friends watched the car slowly disappear into the distance towards the pad twenty kilometres away and a deep sadness pervaded the little group.  They knew they might well never see Arthur Lincoln here again.  A close family-like atmosphere had developed as it did in all closed communities, and the loss of any member changed that atmosphere for all the rest.  He had been well liked and would be missed.

In the car Lincoln's thoughts turned to home.  In all the rush and bustle he hadn't had time to feel any excitement.  But within a few days he would be with his family again
.  Only four months of his nine-
month tour of duty had been completed and thoughts of earth had waned.  A lunar astronomer's life was not an easy one for a family man.  Nine months on base and three months home had been the pattern for the past five years and he fully intended to continue for another five.  The emotional strain was hard to take sometimes, especially for his wife, but she had adjusted to it.  The worst part was when some family crisis occurred and his support could only be given by radio.  Emma had only once given full vent to her feelings of frustration.  It had been two years ago when their eldest son needed an emergency eye operation after an accident.  Lincoln would have given anything to be with his family just then.  To suffer the anguish from such a distance was intolerable.  He had resigned his post and was ready to leave on the next shuttle but even so could not have reached home for almost two weeks.  As luck had it the surgery was a complete success.  William went home and progressed rapidly.  Emma pleaded with him to withdraw his resignation and finally he changed his mind.  He knew what it had cost her, but she also knew what his work meant to him.  Since then things had been easier.  She knew that he would give up his work if she really needed him to, and could accept his absence more calmly on that basis.

He took out the photog
raph he always carried with him; h
is happy smiling wife and two cheerful mischievous boys.  William was t
en
now and David eight.  Suddenly he couldn't wait to be with them all.  Only two hours ago he had firmly believed that another five months would pass before he would be home again, but now the thought of waiting just a few days was almost unbearable.

He was shaken out of his reverie by his driver's call.

"Ready to transfer now Doctor Lincoln."

"Oh...
right... thank you."  He unfastened his safety straps and gently eased himself through the exit hatch.  He was a tall, well built man and always found these manoeuvres tedious.  He frequently complained that lunar engineers were a race of sadistic midgets bent on maxi
mising the discomfort of normal-
sized people.

The ferry was already waiting for him so he quickly walked through the tiny lounge to the departure gate.  Transport had improved enormously in recent times.  All vehicles had compatible docking arrangements so there was no longer any need to don bulky vacuum suits or wait for the time consuming procedures of
airlock
depressurisation and repressurisation.  He was soon settled in the little craft and ready for lift off.  It had taken the car nearly half an hour to travel just twenty kilometres but the ferry would be in orbit in only twelve minutes.  Such were the paradoxes of space travel.  The twenty kilometres were necessary to cut down interference from ferry movements on the sensitive instruments at
Mendeleev
.  There were still many, Lincoln included, who considered even this separation too small.  Like everything else it was a compromise.