Voyagers 1 by Ben Bova

Author:Ben Bova [Bova, Ben]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Published: 2011-10-23T11:22:35+00:00

CHAPTER 25

So if it is possible to communicate, we think we know what the first communications will be about: They will be about the one thing the two civilizations are guaranteed to share in common, and that is science.

- CARL SAGAN, Murmurs of Earth: The Voyager Interstellar Record Random House 1978

Stoner paced back and forth across the hot, stuffy control center, threading his way around the jumble of chairs and standing men and women. A dozen technicians sat at their humming electronics consoles, headsets clamped over their ears, eyes riveted to their green-glowing screens.

The room was dark except for the glow from the screens and the lighted buttons on the console keyboards. There were too many people standing around, radiating heat and anticipation, overpowering the rumbling air conditioners.

Stoner prowled ceaselessly, like a caged jungle cat, scowling at the backs of the seated technicians and the shimmering numbers on their readout screens.

The outside door opened and a painful spear of sunlight lanced into the room. Everyone flinched and squirmed. Vampires, thought Stoner. We’re like a pack of goddamned vampires, hiding from the light of day.

It was Markov. He closed the door quickly and tiptoed, in his gangly, loose-jointed way, to Stoner’s side.

“Anything?” he whispered.

“Zilch,” Stoner said. “It’s been damned near six hours and no reaction from them at all.”

Markov peered at the nearest screen. “I don’t know whether to be happy or sad”

“Sad,” snapped Stoner.

The Russian shrugged. “I have a message for you from the photo lab. They have received the latest high-resolution photographs from Greenbelt.”

Stoner pulled his attention from the screens. “From Big Eye? Did they take a look at them? How do they look?”

“They said . . . not good.”

What did you expect? Stoner asked himself. Nothing is going right. Not a goddamned thing.

“I’d better go over and take a look at them.”

Markov said, “They told me that the photos still don’t show anything except a blur. It looks almost like the head of a comet”

“Christ! Don’t say that around McDermott. That’s all hell need to renege on the rendezvous mission.”

Dr. Marvin Chartris leaned back in his padded swivel chair and looked through the heavily barred window of his ground floor office. Outside on the scruffy, patchy lawn of the museum, a pair of dogs were enthusiastically humping, tongues lolling out of their toothy mouths, while a dozen children stood around watching.

Ah, springtime in Manhattan, thought Dr. Chartris.

His phone rang.

Chartris glanced out the open office door. As usual, his secretary was nowhere in sight He had once replied to a visitor’s question as to how many people worked at the museum, “About a third of the staff.” His secretary was among the majority.

With a sigh, he picked up the phone. “Planetarium,” he said.

“Marv,” crackled the voice on the other end, “this is Harry Hartunian.”

“Hello, Harry. How’s everything in San Diego?”

“Great. Getting good crowds. How about you?”

“Almost breaking even.”

“Been mugged lately? I hear New York’s worse in good weather.”

“When do we get good weather?” Chartris countered.

Hartunian chuckled. “Hey, Marv, you

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