Fade Out (7 page)

‘Fantastic,' said Wedderkind. ‘This could change our whole concept of Man, his origins, his place in the universe – everything.'

‘Yes – well, that's something we'll have to think about.' The President looked at Samuels. ‘Gene?'

‘I'll feel a lot happier when we know more about it,' said Samuels.

‘We all will,' said Connors. Having got over the first numbing shock of the Russian announcement, he felt apprehensive. He wasn't worried about little green men. It was the whole host of practical problems arising out of such a situation, affecting all kinds of things – including himself. But at the same time, he felt excited at the prospect of the imminent contact with something from up there.

Maybe it would only be an extraterrestrial version of a message in a bottle. It didn't matter. It would be proof that Man was not alone in the Universe. A sign, perhaps, that the nations of the world should join together. But would they? It was a nice idea, but Connors knew that anyone stepping off a spaceship would have both halves of the world giving him the hardsell on the merits of their own way of life.

On the other hand, if they were going to be hit by an H. G. Wells-type Martian invasion, there was the depressing prospect that the Russians might try to rip off a tactical advantage in the following confusion. And if
they did, the US would have to get in on the action too…

‘Bob…'

The President's voice brought Connors back to earth. ‘Sorry, I was – '

‘That's okay. Listen, this is one headache I can do without. I'm assigning you the responsibility for setting up a special task force to deal with this thing. Any objections?'

‘No, none at all.'

The President looked at the others. ‘I want to set this thing up so everything goes through Bob. He'll report directly to me. Anybody see any problems?'

Apparently nobody did.

‘Good. Then I take it I can count on your unqualified co-operation and support.'

Connors watched them all say ‘yes' – even those who didn't mean it.

‘Great.' The President turned to Connors. ‘Arnold will be able to help you on the scientific side, and I think you'd better tie in with the Air Force for logistic support. They're into the space business anyway. That okay, Mel?'

‘Yes, I guess so,' said Fraser.

‘Chuck?'

‘Yes, fine. But what about NASA? Won't you want to bring them in on this?' Air Force General Clayson was great on protocol.

‘Maybe later. I think we ought to hold back on this for a bit. Those boys have tied themselves in so tight with the media to hustle more money and enthusiasm for their space programs, they'd never be able to sit on this. It'd be banner headlines in tomorrow's press handouts.'

‘They'd be selling grandstand seats,' said Connors.

‘So until we know what we're getting into, let's keep this on an “Eyes Only” basis. Is that clear?'

It was. Nobody wanted to start a run on Wall Street.

‘Good.' The President swung his chair round to face Connors. ‘Bob, as from now, I want you to start active preparations for dealing with a possible landing.'

‘In co-operation with the Russians?'

‘I think we have to look into that area. Maybe you could have a talk with them about it. But starting tomorrow, I want a daily progress report. From here on in, your team will have first call on the scientific, technological and manpower resources of America. Don't worry about red tape. Just get the show on the road.'

Just get the show on the road
… It must be marvellous to be the President of the United States. To be able to swivel round in a big blue high-backed chair and come out with lines like that. You just drew yourself one hell of an assignment, Connors. The big one…

‘It's on the way,' said a voice.

Connors dimly recognized it as his own.

Apart from the seven of them in the President's study, only nine of the top men in the Kremlin knew that the world had a visitor from outer space. Both nations had agreed, for the moment at least, to maintain total secrecy on the whole affair. The American military and civilian organizations involved were to be encouraged to accept Jodrell Bank's statement that the orbiting craft was the ailing Jupiter probe. Conversely, the Russian personnel involved would be allowed to think that the craft was American. Because they were heavily insulated from the Western press and radio, there was a minimal chance of anyone over there catching the double play.

The Russians had agreed not to make any statements to the Western press. Since their past space-flight mishaps and, more recently, the catastrophic accident at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant had been characterized
by the same tight-lipped approach, it would reinforce the conviction that they had another failure on their hands. In return, the President had promised to play down any reports linking the spacecraft with the fade-out. With the ‘spacelab' satisfactorily identified and now predicted to descend and finally bum up as it entered the denser layers of the atmosphere, civilian observatories would turn their attentions elsewhere, and public interest would quickly wane. What happened after that would depend very much on what was up there.

‘What are the chances of having one of our SAINTS look this thing over?' asked the President.

Fraser told him exactly what the chances were. Nil. There is always a risk to the bringer of bad news, but to Fraser it was worth it just to see Connors' face.

Considering the other shocks he'd had to absorb, the President took it rather well. He gave his nose a slow, sliding pinch but kept his eyes wide open. ‘Arnold, how soon could we send up a manned space shot to look this thing over?'

‘The short answer is “we can't”,' replied Wedderkind. ‘The whole shuttle programme was knocked for a loop when we lost Challenger. NASA's still trying to sort out the latest batch of design faults that have come to light.'

‘So there's nothing on the pad at Cape Canaveral…'

‘Nothing we can put a man in.'

‘Okay, but there must be duplicate Apollo modules around that were used for tests and training.'

‘There are. We could probably blow the cobwebs off one of them. The problem is we don't have any Saturn 5 rockets ready to lift it into orbit. We might be able to get something rolling but it'll take at least three months to get it off the ground.'

The President took a slow bite at his bottom lip and
considered Wedderkind's news. Connors caught his eye as his chair swivelled towards the window.

‘In one sense, a manned flight is not a bad idea,' said Connors. ‘But everybody in Houston Control and at the Cape is going to be in on this mission. They would have to be. It's the way the setup works.'

‘Yes, you've got a point there,' said the President. ‘Can you see a way round that, Arnold?'

‘Well, I know you feel a little sensitive on this issue because they've been pressuring you for funds, but we have to face up to the fact that we can't lock NASA out of this much longer. We're going to need their know-how. A lot of good people have left, but they still have some of the best brains in the business. I admit they've been laying on some heavy PR, but let's also remember that for years they launched a lot of hardware for the Air Force and the CIA that a lot of people, including me,
still
know nothing about.'

McKenna looked at Connors and smiled.

‘Security is not really the problem,' continued Wedderkind. ‘The spacecraft is orbiting one thousand miles out – slap in the middle of the inner Van Allen belt. When we had Skylab up there, it was orbiting at a height of 270 miles – well below the bottom layer of radiation.'

‘But the Apollo module has flown through the Van Allen belt on its way to the moon,' said Connors.

‘And back, too,' said Wedderkind. ‘Flying through it is a lot different than orbiting for an extended period inside it. Even under normal conditions there would be a definite radiation hazard to the Apollo module and the crew. At the moment, the energy levels in the Van Allen belts must be fantastically high. Since Telstar One and Two, all our satellites have been equipped with radiation shields. For all of them to be put temporarily out of action like that means they've taken a big shot of gamma
rays. We could overcome the problem, but we'd have to measure the radiation levels with sounding rockets before we could modify the Apollo. And the shuttle would present an even bigger problem. We'd have to put in extra shielding to protect the crew and instrumentation, and if they're going to do any EVA to inspect our friend, we'll need to build some additional protection into their space suits. And that's going to take time.'

‘Friend may be the wrong word,' said Connors. ‘If he's knocked out all our satellites, and everything the Russians have put up there, he may knock out the Apollo mission too. This fade-out could be an uncontrollable side effect, or its use could be deliberate.'

‘As a weapon.' It was Fraser. As warlike as ever.

Connors shrugged. ‘The point is, if we do launch an Apollo, that thing up there isn't going to know there are men inside. Do we want to get into that kind of situation?'

‘What are we suddenly talking about weapons for?' asked Wedderkind. ‘Okay, we've got a few problems – '

‘A few?' Fraser snorted. ‘Jesus, Arnold, where have you been the last three days?'

Wedderkind blinked rapidly but didn't look at Fraser. “That doesn't mean that the world is being circled by a malevolent intelligence. And why would anyone out there wish us any harm? For God's sake – even to reach us, they have to be more advanced than we are. In every way. To the point, perhaps, where communication – on our level – is impossible.'

‘If that's the case, why bother to get in touch with us?' asked Fraser.

‘The contact has to have some purpose.' said Wedderkind.

‘What form do you think it will take?' asked Samuels.

Wedderkind hunched up his shoulders. ‘If we're lucky, we may find someone has made us a gift of a harmless
piece of hardware. We have to look, to listen – and above all, try to understand.'

‘Yeah, well, that all sounds great, Arnold. But meanwhile, what are we going to do back at the ranch?' Fraser was playing the Philistine, but it was a practical question – and one Connors would have asked, but less belligerently.

Wedderkind's lips pinched together. He looked towards Fraser but not at him. ‘I think we should do all we can, without doing anything stupid.'

‘So what's the final decision on the Apollo shot?' asked Connors.

‘I think we'll hang fire on that for a while,' said the President. He stood up abruptly. ‘I'm hungry. Do any of you fellas want to eat? All I've had since eight this morning is one lousy chicken sandwich.'

Silvermann had brought up two, as ordered, but the President had made the mistake of offering Connors the second one.

After dinner, the President called the Kremlin and discussed the situation for nearly thirty-five minutes. Connors handled the translation. The President began by commiserating with Premier Leonovich over the probable loss of the cosmonauts manning the two Russian space-stations. He then reviewed the various options available and told the Russians that an Apollo flight was under consideration. The Russians agreed not to take any action against the spacecraft without prior consultation with the United States.

After the call, Fraser and the others joined Connors in the President's study. The President told them that in exchange for the Russian agreement to hold their fire he had given an assurance that, if it was launched, any information gathered by the Apollo mission would be made immediately available to the Russians.

‘I know I already said this over dinner,' said Fraser, ‘but I'm going to say it again. I think this whole idea of wait-and-see is crazy. I think we and the Russians should blast off a couple of big ones and blow the damn thing – '

‘No!' It came almost as a shout from Wedderkind. Then in a quieter voice he said, ‘We have no right to do anything like that. An event like this might never happen again in the whole history of the human race.'

‘Maybe the history of the human race is about to end right now,' said Fraser. ‘Maybe that thing up there has been sent to wipe us all out.'

‘One of our problems is that we've all seen too many bug-eyed B movies,' said Wedderkind. ‘I think it would help a great deal if we remembered that every science fiction monster we ever read about was created right here – on earth.'

‘Nevertheless,' said Clayson, ‘I think we must be prepared for the worst and be ready to hit back.'

Wedderkind hunched up his shoulders and spread out the palms of his hands. ‘Look. Be reasonable. Why all of a sudden does it have to be Armageddon? Maybe it will just take a look at us and go away. If I was up there and I could see what I see happening down here with my own eyes, that's what I would do. Believe me.'

‘But what do we do if it decides to land?'

Another shrug. ‘Let it land. Would that be so terrible?'

‘And suppose it comes down in Times Square?'

Wedderkind turned to Fraser. ‘If you were up there with the whole world to choose from, is that where you'd come down?'

Fraser didn't answer.

Two USAF helicopters took Connors and the others back to Hamilton AFB where Air Force One stood gassed up
and ready to go. It was nearly 11 P.M. As they climbed aboard, the US Navy Sea Queen chopper carrying the President and his wife settled into the nearby landing circle under the watchful eyes of the Secret Service. A small posse of station brass waited attentively in their best blues.

From his window, Connors watched the President and First Lady run the gauntlet of good-bye handshakes from the helicopter to the foot of the boarding ramp. He lost sight of them as the President followed his wife up the steps but he knew the scene by heart. They paused at the top. She turned. He turned, in front, but a step lower down. A brief straight-arm wave from her. A two-stroke, bent-elbow one from him plus a warm smile, with the lips just breaking clear of the teeth. They were both good on smiles. Then a light hand on her back, guiding her in through the door. Slight duck of the head. Curtain.