Emprise by Michael P. Kube-McDowell

Author:Michael P. Kube-McDowell [Kube-McDowell, Michael P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

* * *

In the Absence of Negative Proof…

Seated in the enclosed courtyard adjoining his office, Rashuri listened raptly as Moraji recounted Eddington’s extrapolations.

“My friend, where would I be today without your vigilance and circumspection?” he said affectionately when Moraji finished.

“You rise on your own great spirit, Devaraja, not on my poor assistance,” Moraji answered.

“Modestly ill suits you, good Jawaharlal.”

Moraji beamed. “Then no doubt you would be farming the Thai Desert now without the benefit of my wisdom and guidance.” Rashuri laughed gently. “Eddington is safely in our custody, I trust.”

“He is.”

“And you have a copy of his work?”

“I took the precaution of retaining one.”

“Then see that it’s copied and delivered to all who were at this morning’s gathering. I will draft a note asking them to evaluate its usefulness to us.”

“It will not find favor with Dr. Driscoll.”

“Then have him come see me, and perhaps we can resolve our differences in private.”

Driscoll arrived within the hour, bearing a copy of Eddington’s treatise. His eyes seethed with anger.

“What land of a fool are you?” he demanded without preamble. Flinging the report into a rattan waste container, he shot Rashuri a challenging look. “That’s where that belongs. I can’t believe you’ve given it even a moment’s consideration.”

“I don’t wish you to misunderstand me,” said Rashuri calmly. “I’ve given it more than consideration. I hope to use it as part of our general announcement.”

“You know that not a word of it is true.”

“I know nothing of the sort.”

“It isn’t science or the product of science. It’s fantasy, the product of an obsessed and unstable mind. A dedicated numerologist can come up with anything with enough numbers and enough time. But it has no more validity than if I were to try to divine your personality by running my fingers over the bumps on your head.”

“That may be,” said Rashuri. “But his is a concrete, benign vision. It answers the questions—and the fears—an unadorned announcement would raise. His aliens are everything we would want these strangers to be.”

“But the whole business is totally chimerical! Eddington’s invented it all!”

“You mean to say that in every detail, from the specific to the general, Eddington is wrong. You’ve reviewed his methods in detail and found them wanting.”

“I’ll put it this way—the woods behind my home have a better chance of arranging themselves into a log cabin during a windstorm than he has of being right.”

“Very well,” said Rashuri. “Then tell me what the Senders are like.”

Driscoll stared at Rashuri with open surprise. His mouth worked noiselessly. “You know I can’t do that,” he said at last. “You need not match Eddington’s detail. Just provide me with a demonstrable fact or two which contradicts his account.” Concern creased Driscoll’s forehead. “You know that the only objective fact is the message. Anything else is guesswork.”

“Then it’s on the basis of guesswork that you reject Eddington’s conclusions.”

Driscoll drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head. “Arguing with you is like fencing with a goddamn ghost. Look, if you want absolute proof that he’s wrong, no, I don’t have it.

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