Tuning William - Fuzzy Bones

"You got it," Bates said.

Ben Rainsford jerked his pipe out of his pocket and started to fill it. "What does that have to do with my assertion about random encounter with other star-travelers?" he asked, with faint irritation. "You" comparing me to this Fogleberg fella?"

"Heavens, no!" Commander Bates said.

"Great Ghu's ghost, Ben," Jack said. "Simmer down."

Lieutenant Gaperski slipped smoothly into the fray. "I think what Nels was leading up to was the current Navy Doctrine on such a random encounter, Governor. It's no secret or anything. It's just not widely publicized in the civilian sector."

"We have to have some very specific and uniform idea about it, though," Bates said, "in order to meet our own responsibilities to the Federation."

A look of realization flashed on Jack Holloway's face. "Oh, I know what you mean. It's fairly new, isn't it?"

"Yes," Bates replied, "and it proceeds from Fogleberg's theories, but along less-ah-presumptive lines."

"Somebody's Estimate," Jack said.

"McKettrig's Estimate. You brief them on it, Frank. I don't have my data terminal with me and I can't remember all the numbers."

Gaperski pulled his hand held data terminal from his hip pocket and punched up a code. He read the data as it scrolled.

"We 're pretty sure there are eleven or twelve billion stars in this galaxy that are very much like our own," he said. "I won't bore you with the

probability reductions, but they are very comprehensive.

"Given: a galactic volume of 5.3x10" cubic light years.

"Given: probabilities indication of 1,580 star-traveling races or races with enough technology to have a star-drive if they want it.

"Given: normalized distribution of stars and star-travelers across several drifts and age patterns that draw to a median expression.

"Then: each star-traveling race with have to itself a volume of space which is 3.34x10* cubic light years. Expressed as a sphere, its diameter would be 858

light years.

"If: during the course of normal voyages of discovery, charting, and colonial business such as trade and military traffic, a brand new star and its-perhaps-solar system of planets is examined closely each year,

"Then: in order for us or any other star-traveling race to examine the 'home sphere' and an equal-sized volume of space adjacent to the home sphere-at the rate of one star per year-the time to so examine our own territory and the territory next door will be close on to 33,000 years.

"Expressed as a probability, the odds of a purely random encounter with other star-travelers is thus about 1 chance in 1.7 million." There was a long silence.

Gaperski paused, still holding his data terminal, in case there were questions. "So, while you're waiting to accidentally meet the star-traveling aliens," he said, trying to break the tension of the moment,"don't give up sex or breathing." "Are you sure that's right?" Rainsford asked. "If the galaxy is put together more or less the way we think it is, and if the best minds in the business haven't made any mistakes in theory-although I '11 admit there was certainly a lot of argument over the past couple centuries as they crosschecked their own and earlier work-then it's right. It wouldn't be in the manual otherwise."

"It's an interesting perspective," Holloway said reflectively. "We've been industriously working away, colonizing hyperspace, and we've managed to push out a whole one hundred light years per century. Yet here we are, still in our own back yard."

"We may not even be in the yard yet," Bates said. "We may just be pushing open the screen door."

Gerd frowned. "I don't follow you."

"Well," Gaperski said, "scientists are given to differences of opinion when matters are still in the half-theory, half-observation stages."

"Like cops," muttered George Lunt.

"An early theorist-Smith, Smitt, Schmidt; something like that-came up with one notion radically different from McKettrig's Estimate. Without pulling out all the data for you; he calculated a 'home sphere' diameter of 2,400 light years and a one-star-per-year time to examine it of 720 million years.

Ben Rainsford chuffed on his pipe. "Then why do you use this McKettrig fella's arithmetic in your technical manual?"

"Good point," Gaperski replied. "We use it because it is the most ambitious and optimistic set of probabilities."

"That's like what we used to call 'Cheerful Charley Chemistry' when I was in school," Gerd said. "Coming up with experiment results that offered the least amount of thorny problems and alternates that had to be solved out."

"Oh, there are still plenty of variables," Bates said. "For example, the probability of encounter is higher in a long search than in a short one.

Another factor is the number growth of colony planets. As they get into the exploration act, the number of stars explored during a standard galactic year will grow steadily-even exponentially among colonies that are more curious about neighboring stars, or which are prone to just plain wanderlust."

"That's not what I asked you," Rainsford said. "Why do you use McKettrig as the official Navy doctrine?"

"McKettrig offers us the soonest possibility of random contact with other star-travellers," Gaperski said, "and, therefore, should such a random encounter occur, the least possible chance for the Navy to get caught with its pants down."

"Ummph," Rainsford grunted. "Now it makes sense."

Helton pondered. "He's right, of course, but that's not the main consideration."

"I agree," Rainsford said expansively. "The important thing is to direct ourselves toward shortening the odds and try to make such a contact as quickly as we can manage it." Helton smiled and shook his head. "Wrong. They may not be friendly."

The sun was down. The daylight was slowly failing. At the edge of the excavation two small figures stood together and regarded the huge object at the bottom, while the others were finishing a get-acquainted romp back and forth across the valley near the weirthorn thicket.

"What is?" Starwatcher asked.

Little Fuzzy stood with his hands clasped behind his back. "Greensuit Hagga say is ship-same as Hagga come this place in."

"How can be?" Starwatcher asked.

"No know." Little Fuzzy shrugged and dug his smoking pipe out of his shodda-bag. He began to tamp tobacco into it thoughtfully. "When some gashta-we all Fuzzies, now-on that place,"-He pointed to Xerxes, about 30

degrees above the horizon-"see round thing many, many times bigger than things Hagga fly here in." He pointed to the ground at his feet.

"Can be this one?" Starwatcher asked.

Little Fuzzy shrugged, again. "Hagga know many things-much as want. I ask Pappy Jack when he no busy."

The crew of Marines working nearby were preoccupied with their onerous task-onerous as all after-duty-hours tasks are-of setting up floodlights on skids so the dig could be tidied up after chow. They paid no attention to the Fuzzies talking. They were laMng Lingua Fuzzy, anyway, so only an occasional yeek was audible to Terran ears.

"I would think it'll be days before we can safely get inside," Bates said.

"What do you think, Phil?"

The group was walking across the dry creek to where the field mess was set up.

"Sounds right to me," Helton said. "We might have to stabilize after we date it and take samples. The whole thing might be ready to crumble. We have no idea how much of a beating it took in the landing."

"We'll transmit preliminary reports to Xerxes at 1930, and go on from there,"

Gaperski added.

"You 're still convinced that this is a hyperdrive vessel of some kind?"

Rainsford asked.

"Yes, sir," Helton said. He slowed his pace a moment and looked up at the sky, half whispering to himself, " ' . . . there is a country/far beyond the stars/where stands a winged sentry/all skilful in the wars.' " Then he jumped briskly across a little erosion gully and caught up with the others.