Starburst

3

THERE WAS A LULL IN THE URBAN GUERRILLA WAR IN Washington that week. Dr. von Knefhausen's chopper was able to float right in to the South Lawn of the White House—no sniper fire, no heat-seeking missiles. No one was even throwing rocks from the fence. Of course there was a demonstration going on. When was there not? But only a small demonstration, only a tiny newborn puppy of a dem­onstration: a knot of tired pickets trudging in the rain under the eye of twice as many police. They did not look militant. Probably Gay Lib or, who knew what, maybe nature food or single tax, there was no limit to the concerns with which these foolish people obsessed themselves. At any rate there were no rocks, as there would be from the peace people or the race people. All that came from them was a little disorganized booing as the helicopter landed.

Knefhausen hopped nimbly out of the chopper, bowed sardonically to Herr Omnes, and got out of the way as the aircraft took off again. Which it did at once. You did not risk a valuable machine for long on the South Lawn.

There was here a question of pride, so Knefhausen did not trouble to run to the White House. He strolled. He did not fear these simple people, even if the helicopter pilot did. Also he was not really eager to keep his appointment with the President.

The aide de camp who frisked him did not smile. The orderly who conducted him to the West Terrace did not salute. No one relieved him of the dispatch case with his slides and papers, although it was heavy. You could tell right away when you were in the doghouse, he thought, ducking his head from the rotor blast as the pilot circled the White House to gain altitude before venturing back across the untrustworthy city streets.

It had been a lot different just a few months ago! How soon they forgot! But Knefhausen did not forget. It was right here, this portico, where he had stood beside the President before all the world's press and photographers to tell them about the Alpha-Aleph Project. He had seen his picture on all the front pages, watched himself on the TV newscasts, as he filled their eyes with stars and shared his own glorious vision. Or part of it. A New Earth! An entire planet to be colonized by Americans, four light-years away! He remembered the launch into low orbit, foreign statesmen and scientists eating their hearts out with envy, American leaders jovial with pride. The orderlies saluted then, all right. His lecture fees had gone clear out of sight. There was even talk of making him the Vice Presidential candidate in the next election—and it could have been serious, too, if the election had been right then, and if there hadn't been this question of his having been born in another country. Then, six weeks ago, the actual launch of the interstellar spacecraft itself, from its parking orbit, spiraling down toward the Sun; yes, even then there had been many expressions of congratulation and joy, even though it was not quite the same as the Cape, and now—

Now it was all different. They took him up to the meeting in the service elevator!. Astonishing. It was not so much that Knefhausen minded all of this for his own sake, he told himself, but by what means did the word get out so quickly that there was trouble? Was it only the newspaper stories? Was there a leak?

They showed him to a washroom—a public washroom!—and he ran a comb through his thinning hair, tightened his plump cheeks, nodded once, and was ready. "Come, let us go in," he said sternly to the Marine orderly. The private knocked once on the big door of the Cabinet room, and it was opened from inside. Knefhausen entered, stern and self- assured.

There was no "Come in, Dieter, boy, pull up a pew," from the President. No Vice President jumping up to grab his arm and slap his back. His greeting was thirty silent faces turned toward him. Some were frankly hostile. Some were only reserved. The full Cabinet was there, along with half a dozen department heads and the President's personal action staff, and the most hostile face around the big oval table was the President's own.

Knefhausen bowed. No, he thought justly, I was wrong; it is better when he smiles. Such teeth! An atavistic longing for lyceum-cadet jokes made him think of clicking his heels and adjusting a monocle, but he didn't have a monocle and, in any case, did not yield to such impulses. He merely moved toward the foot of the table. There was an empty chair but he chose to stand. When the President nodded, Knefhausen said, "Yes, good morning, gentlemen. And ladies. I assume you want me to clarify the record as to the stupid lies the Russians are spreading about the Alpha-Aleph program."

Roobarooba, they muttered to each other. The President said in his sharp tenor, "So you are certain they are lies."

"Lies or mistakes, Mr. President, what's the difference? We are right and they are wrong, that's all."

Roobaroobarooba. The Secretary of State looked inquiringly at the President, got a nod, and said, "Dr. Knefhausen, you know I been on your team a long time. I don't Want to disagree with any statement you care to make, but are you so sure about that? They's some mighty persuasive figures comin' out of the Russians."

"They are false, Mr. Secretary."

"Ah, well, Dr. Knefhausen, I might be inclined to take your word for it, but they's others might not. Not cranks or Commies, Dr. Knefhausen, but good, decent people. Do you have any evidence for such as them?"

"To be sure. With your permission, Mr. President?"

The President nodded again. Knefhausen unlocked his dispatch case and drew out a slim sheaf of slides. He handed them to a major of Marines, who looked to the President for approval and then did what Knefhausen told him. The room lights went down, a screen slid out of the ceiling at the back of the room, and, after some fiddling with the focus, the first slide was projected over Knefhausen's head. It showed a huge array of Y-shaped metal posts, stretching away into the distance of a bleak, powdery-looking landscape.

"This picture is our radio telescope on Farside, on the Moon," he said. "It is never visible from the Earth, because that portion of the Moon's surface is permanently turned away from us. For this reason it was selected for the site of the radio telescope. There is no electrical interference of any kind. The instrument is made up of 33 million separate dipole elements, aligned with an accuracy of one part in some millions. Its actual size is an approximate circle eighteen miles across, but by virtue of the careful positioning its performance is effectively equal to a telescope with a diameter of some twenty-six miles. Next slide, please."

Click. The picture of the huge radio-telescope array swept away and was replaced by another similar—but visibly smaller and shabbier—construction.

"This is the Russian instrument, gentlemen. And ladies. It is approximately one quarter the size of ours in diameter. It has less than one-tenth as many elements, and our reports —these are classified, but I am informed this gathering is cleared to receive this information, yes?—our reports indicate the alignment is very crude. Even terrible, you could say.

"The difference between the two instruments in information-gathering capacity is roughly a hundred to one, in our favor. Lights, please.

"What this means," he went on smoothly, smiling at each of the thirty persons around the table in turn as he spoke, "is that if the Russians say no and we say yes, bet on yes. Our radio telescope can be trusted. Theirs cannot."

The meeting shifted uneasily in its leather armchairs. They were as anxious to believe Knefhausen as he was to convince them, but they were not sure.

Representative Belden, the Chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, was near Knefhausen at the foot of the table. He spoke up for all of them. "Nobody doubts the quality of your equipment. Especially since we've still got the bruises from paying for it all. But the Russians made a flat statement. They said that Alpha Centauri can't have a planet larger than three hundred miles in diameter, or nearer than eight hundred million miles to the star. I have a copy of the Tass release here. It admits that their equipment is inferior to our own, but they have a statement signed by twenty-two academicians that says their equip­ment could not miss on any object larger or nearer than what I have said, or on any body of any kind which would be a suitable landing place for our astronauts. Are you familiar with this statement?"

"Yes, of course, I have read it."

"Then you know that they state positively that the planet you call Alpha-Aleph does not exist."

"Yes, that is what they state."

"Moreover, statements from authorities at the Paris Observatory and the UNESCO Astrophysical Center at Trieste and from England's Astronomer Royal at Herstmonceux all say that they have checked and confirmed their figures."

Knefhausen nodded cheerfully. "That is correct, Representative Belden. They confirm that if the observations are as stated, then the conclusions drawn by the Soviet installation on Farside at Novy Brezhnevgrad naturally follow. I don't question the arithmetic. I only say that the observations are made with inadequate equipment, and thus the Soviet astronomers have come to a false conclusion. But I do not want to burden your patience with an unsupported statement," he added hastily as there were stirrings all around the table and the Congressman opened his mouth to speak again, "so I will tell you all there is to tell. What the Russians say is theory. What I have to counter this is not merely better theory, but also objective fact. I know that Alpha-Aleph is there because I have seen itl Lights again, Major, and the next slide, if you please!"

The screen lit up and showed glaring bare white with a sprinkling of black dots, like ink spatters on a blotter. A large one appeared in the exact center of the screen, with a few lesser ones sprinkled around it. Knefhausen picked up a flash pointer and aimed its little red arrowhead of light at the central dot.

"This is a photographic negative," he said, "which is to say that it is black, where the actual scene is white and vice versa. Those objects are astronomical. The picture was taken from our Briareus Twelve satellite near the orbit of Jupiter, on its way out to Neptune four months ago. The central object is the star Alpha Centauri. It was photographed with a special instrument which filters out most of the light from the star; the instrument is electronic in nature and performs somewhat like the well-known corona-scope which is used for photographing prominences on our own Sun. We hoped that by this means we might be able actually to photograph the planet Alpha-Aleph. We were successful, as you can see." The flash pointer laid its little arrow next to the nearest small dot to the star. "That, gentlemen and ladies, is Alpha-Aleph. It is precisely where we predicted it to be from radio-telescope data."

There was another buzz from the table. In the dark it was louder than before. The Secretary of State cried sharply, "Mr. President! Can't we release this photograph?"

"We will release it immediately after this meeting," said the President.

Roobarooba. Knefhausen pressed his advantage. "If I may just add," he said, "there arises the question the President has touched on, lies or mistakes? One hesitates to say 'lies,' but we are realists here, is that not true? And one can see a motivation. The Russians read our newspapers. They know what the polls say. They are aware that this project of ours, this Alpha-Aleph—this New Earth that we have and they do not—it is the single most significant source of pride for all we Americans. If they can tarnish it, how excellent for them! We live in gravely troubled times—"

"We are all aware of the Sacramento riots and the Toledo bombing, Dr. Knefhausen—and of the public-opinion polls, too," the President interrupted. "Perhaps we should stick to this one simple subject. Are there any further questions?"

Pause. These politicians were sensitive to unspoken strains and they could perceive that there was one here, even if they did not understand it. Then the committee chairman again, looking back and forth from Knefhausen to the President, but addressing his question to the head of the table: "Mr. President, I'm sure if you say that's the planet we want, then it's the planet. Bot others outside this room may wonder, for indeed all those dots look about alike to me. I wonder if Knefhausen could satisfy a layman's curiosity. How do we know that that thing is Alpha-Aleph?"

Knefhausen kept his face impassive, although his heart was filled with glee. "Slide number four, please—and keep number three in the carriage." The same scene, subtly different. "Note that in this picture, gentlemen, that one object, there, is in a different position. It has moved. You know that the stars show no discernible motion, of course. The object has moved because this picture was taken several months later —just a few days ago, in fact—also from our Briareus Twelve spacecraft; the computer-processing has just been completed, and we see that the planet Alpha-Aleph has revolved in its orbit. This is not theory, this is evidence, and I add that the original tapes from which the photoprint was made are stored in Goldstone, so there is no question that arises of foolishness." Roobarooba, but in a higher and excited key. Gratified, Knefhausen nailed down his point. "So, Major, if you will now return to slide three, yes— And if you will flip back and forth, between three and four, as fast as you can— Thank you." The little black dot called Alpha-Aleph bounced back and forth like a tennis ball, while all the other star points remained motionless. "This is what is called the blink comparator process, you see. I point out that if what you are looking at is not a planet, it is, excuse me, Mr. President, the damnedest funniest star you ever saw. Also it is exactly at the distance and with exactly the orbit velocity we specified based on the RT data. Now, are there any more questions?"

"No, sir!" "That's great, Kneffie!" "Clear as a cow's ass to the stud bull!" "I think that wraps it up." "That'll show the Commies where to get off!"

The President's voice overrode them all.

"I think we can have the lights on now, Major Merton," he said. "Dr. Knefhausen, thank you. I'd appreciate it if you would remain nearby for a few minutes, so you can join me in the study to check over the text of our announcement before we release these pictures." He nodded sober dismissal to his Chief Science Advisor and then, confronted by the happy faces of his cabinet, remembered to bare his overbite in a smile of pleasure.