Charles Sheffield - Resurgence

“So Councilor Graves suggested. Yet tests of the Marglotta living quarters on the Polypheme ship suggest that they were not segregated because they breathed different air from the Polypheme. In fact, they could have breathed the same air with no difficulty. And the Chism Polyphemes—who also developed in the Sag Arm—can breathe the same air as humans and Cecropians. Analysis of material in the Marglotta digestive tracts shows that they were also able to eat the same kinds of food as humans. Now, you are of course familiar with the ancient theory of panspermia?”

Darya groaned mentally. One problem in dealing with E. Crimson Tally was the embodied computer’s built-in urge to acquire as much information as possible—no matter how old, no matter how useless. She shook her head.

“Really? Then I will explain.” E.C. Tally casually fitted a neural cable from the room’s terminal to the socket on his chest, and went on without missing a beat. “Panspermia posits that life on many worlds was seeded there from outside. This leads at once to a question: Could such seeding take place not merely among the neighboring stars of a galactic arm, but clear across the Gulf?”

“I have no idea.”

“But I do. I performed the necessary calculation of Gulf crossing-time for spores of living matter when propelled by light pressure. I made plausible assumptions as to the mass/area ratio of such spores. And the result I obtained was a survival probability so close to zero that it can for all practical purposes be ignored.”

“And?”

“I decided that interstellar seeding can indeed take place, but not across so great a span as the Gulf. From which one would conclude that any living beings who inhabit the Sagittarius Arm must have arisen as and be descended from independent life. And yet we can breathe the same kind of air as the Marglotta and Polyphemes.”

“That’s because of the Principle of Convergence.” It was rare for Darya to find simple facts of which Tally remained ignorant. “We have good theoretical grounds for expecting all worlds within the habitable zone of a star eventually to tend to develop one of just two kinds of atmosphere. Either they remain hydrogen-rich, or photosynthetic forms develop and they become oxygen-nitrogen rich. Taskar Lucindar proved that principle using very general arguments, more than three thousand years ago.”

“Indeed she did. She also pointed out that the Principle of Convergence applied to biospheres as a whole, but not to the living forms that might inhabit them. To explain observed similarities in edible materials, Taskar Lucindar invoked the principle of panspermia; which, as I have proved to my own satisfaction, cannot operate across any empty space as wide as the Gulf.”

Go away, Tally. You make my head ache. What was the old comment about the ancient who knew everything? “He not only overflowed with learning, but stood in the slop.”

Darya said mildly, “So what’s your question, E.C.?”

“Why, it is as I said: the Builders. They occupied our spiral arm long ago, and they filled it with their artifacts. Did they also occupy the Sag Arm, and perhaps the whole galaxy? Were they, rather than panspermia, the instrument by which life forms with similar metabolic requirements were able to appear on both sides of the Gulf?”

E.C. Tally now had Darya’s full attention. For years it had been her conviction that the Builders would not have confined their presence to a single galactic arm. Her unplanned and uncontrolled trip to Serenity, the huge Builder artifact thirty thousand lightyears out of the plane of the galaxy, had supported her belief, although Professor Merada and others at the Artifact Research Institute on Sentinel Gate still regarded the story of that journey as a pure flight of fancy. Proving that the Builders had been active in the Sag Arm (and beyond) required access to that arm—which had until now been impossible. True, there were the wild tales told by the Chism Polyphemes. But Darya, like Hans Rebka, lacked faith in Polypheme pronouncements on that or any other subject.

She said, “If the Builders were active all over the galaxy, that explains a lot of things.” She added, “Kallik and Atvar H’sial can tell you—” Then she paused.

She had been going to say that the Hymenopt and the Cecropian probably knew as much about the Builders as she did. Unfortunately, Kallik and Atvar H’sial were aboard the Have-It-All , along with Nenda, J’merlia, and the hulking Zardalu, Archimedes.

She glanced up to the display. The flashing beacon of the other ship was pulsing at a higher rate.

“E.C., that’s a Bose entry signal. They’re about to make another transition.”

“That is correct. Another, and the final one.”

“So soon?”

“As I said, this last stage of the journey is short and simple. Unless they return a warning drone after Bose node entry, our own transition is only a few minutes away. However, as to my earlier question, and our discussion of it—”

“Not now, Tally. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk.”

Unlike E.C., Darya definitely did have circuits for emotion. At the moment they were close to shorting out with overload. So many elements were converging. Louis Nenda was about to take a leap into unknown dangers—she found it hard to forgive herself for refusing his simple request for a meal together; mixed with worry for Louis came the excitement of encountering a new stellar system that sounded like nothing anyone had ever seen; and finally, most powerful of all, there was the promise of renewed Builder interaction. That hit her like strong wine after a two-year drought.

Darya watched and waited until the beacon of the Have-It-All vanished, then watched and waited again through the long minutes preceding their own Bose transition.

The moment came at last. The universe blinked. Darya sighed, leaned forward, and opened her eyes wide.

And saw nothing. She felt bewildered. The records left by the Chism Polypheme and the dead Marglotta should have brought the Pride of Orion to a system where the central primary was a greenish-yellow star alive with hydrogen prominences. Before her eyes lay nothing but darkness, lit by the wan gleam of far-off stars and galaxies.

At her side, E.C. Tally was not limited to wavelengths visible to humans. The embodied computer was in direct contact with all the sensors of the Pride of Orion , which had completed a first full-sky survey within milliseconds of transition. Darya heard Tally’s exclamation of surprise.

“What is it, E.C.?”

“One star, but many planets—more than forty of them.”

“Where? I can’t see a single one.”

“Nor can I, even with the superior eyes of my body. But the Pride of Orion reports the presence of a central star less than two hundred million kilometers away from us, orbited by a large train of planets.”

“Then why don’t we see them?”

“Because they are all, even the central star, at low temperatures. The Pride of Orion employs bolometers, able to detect and measure the radiation from objects only a few degrees above absolute zero. This is ridiculous!”

“What is?” Darya had heard—or imagined—excitement in Tally’s voice.

“Why, the readings. The star and most of the planets are cold, no more than a couple of hundred degrees absolute. But one of those planets—a big one, in a close-in orbit—is at only 1.2 kelvins. That is lower than the temperature of the universe’s microwave background radiation.”

“Isn’t that physically impossible?”

“According to the accepted theories of human and Cecropian scientists, it is. But perhaps the scientists of the Sag Arm employ different theories.”