Cixin Liu - Death's End

Cheng Xin introduced herself and expressed her pleasure at having a chance to study from him, and continued until Wade lifted his eyes to look at her.

Cheng Xin thought she saw exhaustion and laziness in those eyes, but there was also something deeper, something sharp that made her uncomfortable. A smile appeared on Wade’s face, like water seeping out of a crack in the frozen surface of a river; there was no real warmth, and it didn’t relax her.

She tried to respond with a smile of her own, but the first words out of Wade’s mouth froze her face and entire body. “Would you sell your mother to a whorehouse?” Cheng Xin shook her head no, but she wasn’t even trying to respond to the question; she was terrified that she had not understood what he said. But Wade waved at her with his cigar. “Thanks. Go do what needs to get done.”

After she told Vadimov what had happened, Vadimov laughed. “That’s just a line that used to be popular in our… trade. I heard it started back during the Second World War. Veterans would use it as a joke on novices. The point is: Our profession is the only one on Earth where lies and betrayal are at the very heart of what we do. We have to be… flexible when it comes to commonly accepted ethical norms. PIA is formed from two groups of people: Some are technical experts like you; others are veterans of the various intelligence agencies in the world. These two groups have different ways of thinking and acting. It’s a good thing that I’m familiar with both and can help you adjust to the other.”

“But our enemy is Trisolaris. This is nothing like traditional intelligence.”

“Some things are constant.”

Over the next few days, other new PIA staff members reported for duty. Most of them came from countries that were permanent members of the PDC.

They were polite to each other, but there was no trust. The technical experts kept to themselves and acted as if they were on guard against theft every minute. The intelligence veterans were gregarious and friendly—but they were constantly on the lookout for something to steal.

It was just like Vadimov had predicted: These people were far more interested in spying on each other than gathering intelligence on Trisolaris.

Two days after Cheng Xin’s arrival, PIA held its first all-hands meeting, even though not everyone had shown up yet. Other than PIA Chief Wade, there were three assistant chiefs: one from China, one from France, and one from the United Kingdom.

Assistant Chief Yu Weiming spoke first. Cheng Xin had no idea what kind of work he had done in China—and he had the sort of face that took multiple meetings to remember what he looked like. Fortunately, he didn’t engage in the habit—common among Chinese bureaucrats—of giving long, meandering speeches. Though he was just repeating platitudes about the PIA’s mission, at least he spoke succinctly.

Assistant Chief Yu said that he understood that everyone in the PIA was sent by their own country, and so they had dual loyalties. PIA didn’t demand, and didn’t even hope, that they would place their loyalty to the agency above their duties to their own nations. However, since the PIA’s task was the protection of the entire human race, he hoped that everyone present would at least try to balance the two appropriately. Considering that the PIA was going to work directly against the Trisolaran threat, they ought to become the most united of the new agencies.

While Assistant Chief Yu was giving this speech, Cheng Xin noticed that Wade was kicking the table legs and slowly maneuvering his chair away from the conference table as though he didn’t want to be there. Later, whenever anyone asked him to say a few words, he shook his head and refused.

Finally, after everyone who wanted to make a speech had done so, he spoke. Pointing at the pile of boxes and fresh office supplies in the meeting room, he said, “I’d like the rest of you to take care of these matters on your own.” Apparently, he was referring to the administrative details of getting the agency up and running. “Please don’t take up my time or theirs”—here he pointed at Vadimov and his staff. “I need everyone in the Technology Planning Center with experience in spaceflight engineering to stay. The rest of you are dismissed.”

About a dozen people remained in the now much less crowded conference room. As soon as the heavy oak doors closed, Wade dropped his bomb. “The PIA must launch a spy probe at the Trisolaran Fleet.”

The stunned staff members looked at each other. Cheng Xin was surprised as well. She had certainly hoped to get to substantive technical work quickly, but she hadn’t expected such directness or speed. Considering that the PIA had just been formed and there were, as yet, no national or regional branches, it seemed ill-equipped to take on big projects. But the real shocker was the boldness of Wade’s proposal: The technical challenges and other barriers seemed insurmountable.

“What are the specific requirements?” asked Vadimov. He was the only one who seemed to take Wade’s announcement in stride.

“I’ve consulted with the delegates of the permanent members of the PDC in private, but the idea hasn’t yet been formally presented. Based on what I know, the PDC members are most interested in one specific requirement—and this is something that they won’t compromise on: The probe must achieve one percent of lightspeed. The permanent members of the PDC have different ideas about other parameters, but I’m sure they’ll come to some compromise during formal discussions.”

An expert from NASA spoke up. “Let me get this straight. Given those mission parameters, and supposing we only worry about acceleration and provide no way for the probe to decelerate, the probe will take two to three centuries to reach the Oort Cloud. There, it will intercept and examine the decelerating Trisolaran Fleet. Forgive me, but this seems a project better reserved for the future.”

Wade shook his head. “With those sophons zipping about at lightspeed, spying on us constantly, and completely blocking all fundamental physics research, it’s no longer certain that we’ll make significant technological progress in the future. If humanity is doomed to crawl at a snail’s pace through space, we’d better get started as soon as possible.”

Cheng Xin suspected that Wade’s plan was at least partly motivated by politics. The first effort by humanity to make active contact with an extraterrestrial civilization would enhance the PIA’s status.

“But given the current state of spaceflight technology, it will take twenty, maybe thirty thousand years to reach the Oort Cloud. Even if we launch the probe right now, we won’t have gotten very far from Earth’s front door by the time the Trisolaran Fleet arrives in four hundred years.”

“That is precisely why the probe must achieve one percent of lightspeed.”

“You’re talking about boosting our current maximum speed a hundredfold! That requires a brand-new form of propulsion. We can’t achieve that kind of acceleration with current technology, and there’s no reason to expect a technical breakthrough within the foreseeable future. This proposal is fundamentally impossible.”

Wade slammed his fist down on the table. “You forget that we now have resources! Before, spaceflight was merely a luxury, but now it’s an absolute necessity. We can ask for resources that far exceed what was imaginable before. We can throw resources at this problem until the laws of physics bend. Rely on brute force if you have to, but we must accelerate the probe to one percent of lightspeed!”

Vadimov instinctively looked around the room. Wade glanced at him. “Don’t worry. There are no reporters or outsiders anywhere near here.”