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He needed a few more billion dollars for operating costs and research-there were hundreds of thousands of asteroids to survey-and he was sure the "Big Find" would occur soon. He had to get the Minister of Finance on his side, and to believe in SMD.
Then they could take their case to CEO Dolbeau.
Over the past two months, however, Michael had been unable to arrange a meeting with Ian Pocatello. The minister would not take private meetings with the VP of SMD, and had not returned any of his calls. When Michael discovered that the Minister of Finance was on the attendance list for the night's charity, he had seen to it that he and the Minister would cross paths.
Another man was approaching, and hearing the last words spoken, commented in a wry voice.
"We have a Canadian on the Orcus 1 Orcus 1. Did you know that? I'm following the story closely, myself." He laughed. "And I saw a tabloid on the Mesh just today promising that landing on Pluto will mean the end of the world. 93% of readers agree."
Which is why they perform extensive mental competency and personality tests before someone can buy a share of the country corp. and can then vote on national matters, thought Michael. thought Michael.
The others curled their lips at the comment as the Minster of Energy, Mines and Resources-Michael's direct co-superior-joined them. He and the Minister of Canadian s.p.a.ce Exploration shared the joint-chairmans.h.i.+p portfolio of the s.p.a.ce Mining Division.
"Michael, how are you?" Alliras Rainier asked. A gray-haired man of seventy-one, Alliras was the foremost champion of the SMD, having made it a personal crusade to pa.s.s the bill ten years ago to create the Division, and pus.h.i.+ng to have long-time friend Michael Sanderson appointed VP and director of the effort. Michael's meteoric rise through the ranks of EMR could be attributed, to some extent, to his a.s.sociation with Alliras Rainier, a long-time advocate of Michael's philosophies on energy and conservation.
Michael himself had just pa.s.sed his fifty-third birthday a week before, spending the weekend with his family at his home outside Hull, Quebec. He kept fit by jogging two miles every morning, avoiding animal fats, and eating grains, fish, rice, and plenty of fruits and vegetables. At his last check-up, his doctor said to him, "I have some bad news; you only have about fifty or sixty more years to live."
Family was the most important thing in Michael's life, but a close second was the welfare of his fellow humans, not just Canadians, but everyone in the world. He gave to charity, and did what he could to help the environment, which was why he had gotten into the field of environmental energy at McGill University, where he had met his wife, Melanie, a Humanities Major.
Some small successes early in his career had garnered him the notice of Canada Corp.'s Department of Energy, Mines, and Resources. He had been climbing the ladder of the governmental corporation for the past thirty years, and was near the top, where he had gained more influence than he had ever hoped or dreamed.
He was in a position to effect great changes in the way the world found and used energy, and the possibilities excited him. The pa.s.sion that had sent him into Environmental Studies in University had not dissipated over the years.
His energy level, and tolerance for political maneuvering, however, was fading fast.
When Michael nodded that he was fine, Alliras prompted, "And your lovely wife, Melanie?"
The conversation from this point was ch.o.r.eographed; the two had gotten together at Michael's house the night before to discuss tactics.
"Melanie? She's here, somewhere. I think she's cornered Angela and the two are probably deep in debate over the aesthetics of pre-Columbian art."
"I never should have encouraged her to take that U of Carleton course. I think I've spent over a hundred big ones on ugly statues of pregnant G.o.ddesses in the last six months." He laughed, and the other three men joined in obligingly.
Michael could tell that Ian Pocatello was starting to feel more than a little cornered himself, with three pro-mining lobbyists surrounding him. The Minister was tense, as if waiting for the concerted attack.
The whole charade reminded Michael of tigers stalking a polar bear.
They would have to be careful, or enrage the bear.
Turning to Ian, Michael smiled. "I understand congratulations are in order over your last budget?"
"Yes. It was simple, really..."
If there was one thing Ian Pocatello liked, it was listening to the sound of his own voice.
The others settled in to listen, luring the Minister into a false sense of security. They smelled victory.
USA, Inc. Exploration Site : Mission Orcus 1 Orcus 1 : : Pluto :
Twelve kilometers from the landing site, Justine, driving the ATV, pulled short. from the landing site, Justine, driving the ATV, pulled short.
In front of her was an alien artifact.
Ekwan Nipiwin took a step toward it.
"Stop!" Justine roared.
As one, they turned toward her.
She got off the ATV and picked her way down to them. It was a difficult task, considering the treacherous path, and her inability to take her eyes off the artifact for more than a couple of moments at a time.
As she came closer to it, she realized she could see through the semi-transparent surface of the monument. A hectare large at its base, and easily sixteen floors high, it was a ma.s.sive structure of alien construction.
Justine stared at the behemothic artifact, her imagination running away with her. Thoughts of other life in the galaxy filled her mind. She had no doubt about it. They were not alone in the universe.
What were they like? Where did they come from? How long ago did they visit Sol?
Was this monument a calling card?
Here is where we are...come visit us.
Or a flag?
We were here.
Or some kind of warning?
Go no further puny humans!
She was sure the thinkers back on Earth would be up twenty-four hours a day trying to answer those same questions, once she transmitted her report. As mission exec., Justine had little in the way of scientific background, compared to the others in the science crew, each of whom had no less than two Ph.D.'s. Her training was more technologically based, but even that education did nothing to help her solve the puzzle in front of her.
"It ain't doing nothing, Captain." Helen broke off from the group to join Justine. "Just sitting there. Could have been here for a hundred million years, doing nothing."
"I want to know for certain. If there is even the remotest possibility of danger to the crew, then I'm going to declare this area off limits until we get instructions from Earth."
"Don't be so dense!" Ekwan's lips twisted. "I'll show you." He reached down and grabbed a sizeable chunk of ice and hurled it at the artifact before Justine realized what he was doing.
"Stop!" she commanded, but the ice ball, hurled with a human's strength on a planet with a gravity base a fraction of Earth's, shot like a rocket into the artifact.
-And shattered into a million tiny fragments.
The artifact remained a n.o.ble, immovable object.
"See, Captain! I already tried that before. It's just there, like Helen said, doing nothing. If you are going to report this to Earth, the least we can do is take some surface measurements, spectrometer reading; the usual stuff."
The pain-in-the-a.s.s geologist was right, as usual. The immensity of the artifact itself, and the deep-seated awareness that there were others out there, numbed Justine, slowed her reactions. This discovery shook her to her core.
"What do we call it?"
"Dis Pater, of course." This from George Eastmain.
The name was apropos. A rough translation of Dis Pater Dis Pater from Latin was "Lord of the Dark Realms." The Romans had called their G.o.d of the underworld from Latin was "Lord of the Dark Realms." The Romans had called their G.o.d of the underworld Dis Pater Dis Pater, and later changed it to Pluto. Justine had done her homework on all things Plutonian.
Henrietta mimed blowing George a kiss.
Glad that her helmet obscured the sour look on her face at the two of them, Justine nodded. "Very well. Let's get as much data as we can in one hour. Then we'll have to return for oxygen, and I'll transmit my report."
Like wind-up toys, the team jerked into action and began to set up their instruments.
They spent the rest of the hour taking measurements, readings, still photos, videos, and forming hypotheses. Within minutes, Dale Powers yelled out.
"What is it?" Justine asked, out of breath from running to his side despite the chance of slipping.
The astrogator raised his arm, and pointed his finger. Centered on one sloping face of the monument, Justine could see thousands upon thousands of etched glyphs. When she moved to another of the bubbles, she saw it also had strange writing on the surface.
"My G.o.d!" Justine turned, looking for the engineer. "Henrietta! Get over here. I need you to get a picture of this. And tell me what you think."
With her camera, Henrietta took a few stills, and then ran the data through her palm puter.
"Forty-nine columns on this bubble," she announced. "One-hundred and seventy-five rows. I can't make anything out. I have to take a closer look." She waited for Justine's nod before turning on her anti-magnetos.
The engineer repelled off the planet's surface and hovered before the engraving, taking photos and video.
"Each column and row represents a unique set of glyphs, maybe like a sentence or something. I can't make out anything here."
"How many sets?" Justine asked the group as they all peered up at their floating compatriot.
George, the astrophysics genius, replied, "Eight-thousand, five-hundred and seventy-five lines of glyphs." The figures came to him with little effort. "On each face."
Taking a quick spin around the circ.u.mference of the nucleus, George counted, "At least thirty-five neutrons. That's over thirty thousand lines."
"Yeah," confirmed Henrietta. "And I think each line is in a different language; each style is markedly different, and I don't recognize any of them." She measured a few with her palm puter. "Each row is twenty centimeters in height, and each column is seventy-one centimeters in width, separated by forty-two millimeters of blank s.p.a.ce. The whole encryption encompa.s.ses a square area on the face 35 meters by 35 meters. Here, I'm transmitting the image to your puters."
They all pulled out their palm puters, and reviewed the images. Each line had a varying number of symbols, ideograms, dots, squiggles, or glyphs, from ten to a few hundred characters. Some specimens were simply a thousand or so straight lines inscribed side by side.
At the bottom of the last column, by itself, was a single line of glyphs. Justine thought it might be a signature of sorts.
Justine knew in her heart it was a Rosetta stone of an interstellar collection of languages.
Imagine! Over thirty thousand other species out there in the vastness of s.p.a.ce! Over thirty thousand other species out there in the vastness of s.p.a.ce!
Justine shook her head.
"Alright. We have to get back and send a report. Besides, our oxygen is low. In ten hours, we should have a reply to our report. And then we'll go from there."
Justine had to cajole every member of the team to return to the s.h.i.+p.
She, most of all, was the hardest to convince to leave.
[Event Report : Form ER-102]
Date: 21-08-2091 / 13:23 GMT.
Filed by: Captain Justine C. Turner, Orcus 1 Orcus 1 Navigator Helen Buchanan (CSE)
Scientific Team: Joahanne Belcher (ESA), Ekwan Nipiwin (j.a.p), Dale Powers (NASA), Henrietta Maria (NASA), George Eastmain (NASA), Sakami Chin (PRC)
Nature of Event: Discovery of unknown artifact. Scientific team named it "Dis Pater" after the Roman G.o.d of the underworld, who was later renamed Pluto.
Origin: Unknown-not of human manufacture.
Age: Unknown.
Location: Pluto. Longitude 120:14:04. Lat.i.tude 42:98:31.
Composition: Unknown. Specific gravity of 100+. Impenatrable by ion bombardment (laser drill ineffective). Spectroa.n.a.lysis inconclusive despite repeated test. Uncharted, or uncharteable atomic composition.
Dimensions: 35.02 meters NS by 49.38 EW at base of nucleus. 168.27 meters in diameter including electron cloud. 75.91 meters in height.
Remark: Foundation/base rests on surface of planet; no indentation identified.