Foster, Alan Dean - The Dig

197 Pages·2016·1.11 MB·English

by  Foster Alan Dean

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THE

ALAN DEAN FOSTER

Based on a story by Sean ClarkWARNER BOOKS
A Time Warner Company1995 LucasArts Entertainment Company name and logo are registered
trademarks of Warner Books, Inc.

Warner Books, Inc., 1271 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 A Time Warner Company
Printed in the United States of America Hardcover Printing: January 1996.
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designby H. Roberts

To Steven Spielberg I waited forty years for those dinosaurs. Thanks.

CHAPTER 1

"It's a rock, Mr. President."
Warren Lyon Fraser—father, philanthropist, scion of a wealthy Illinois merchant family and at present
leader of the nominally Free World, glanced up absently from behind his desk. From behindthe desk,
Earle reminded himself. The Chief Executive was preoccupied, his thoughts on the Cabinet meeting
scheduled for one o'clock and the state dinner being readied for the Spanish Premier.
Knowing this in advance it was incumbent upon Earle, as chief science advisor to the White House, to
couch his report in terms sufficiently strong to penetrate the social and diplomatic fog that permanently
enveloped the President.That meant being straightforward and to the point while keeping complex
scientific terminology to a minimum. Words had to be chosen for immediate impact as opposed to
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accuracy. Something had to be done about the situation, and done soon.
While very much aware of the President's busy schedule, Earle had insisted on the meeting. The news
was tooimportant, the need for a prompt and appropriate response too critical, for the relevant
information to wend its way to the Chief Executive by means of the usual ruthlessly distilled and
bowdlerized written report. Not that Earle was a particularly forceful speaker, but there was no way he
was going to try to convey these particular details through emotionless print or stammering underlings.
No, not these details.They were too weighty.In every sense of the word.
So he'd used every ounce of pull he possessed to get five minutes of the President's time, confident that
when Fraser was made aware of the gravity of the situation, he would perk up and pay real attention.
After all, what Earle had to say would instantly render irrelevant the most important state dinner or
Cabinetmeeting.
"I take it you're referring to the 'object?" Fraser peered up at his science advisor out of kindly, heavily
lidded eyes that seemed never to blink. "Staff has been whispering about it since yesterday, but I didn't
see any point in wasting time on rumor and speculation.Thought I'd wait for the facts." The fingers of his
right hand idly rotated a formal memo in slow circles, as if he were absently polishing the desktop.
"I hope there aren't too many. Facts, that is. I've a partial Cabinet meeting in one hour.Nothing major;
just the usual assortment of crises and catastrophes." Earle smiled politely as the President eyed the
elegant brass clock on his desk. "It's just that I'd like to grab a bite to eat first."
"Yes, sir."The Science Advisor wasn't intimidated. His briefings were usually delivered elsewhere in the
White House, but he'd spent more than a little time in the Oval Office and was comfortable in its
surroundings.
"Well, come on, then, Willy. So it's a rock. What kind of rock?Big, small, purple ... what?" The
President waited, expectant but impatient.
Despite the prompting, Earle hesitated. Surely no similar report had ever been delivered in such august
surroundings, with the portraits of other presidents gazing down critically. That was why it was so
important for him to get it right the first time, to leave no room for uncertainty or equivocation.
"It's about a mile in diameter, Mr. President. My colleagues would chide me for not using metrics, but
the details of the final report are going to be in all the papers tomorrow, and that's a convenient size
reference to use.Makes it easy to come to grips with it."
"A mile-long rock," the President murmured."Or asteroid, rather."
"That's right, sir." Warren Lyon Fraser was no scientific sophisticate. His background and upbringing
had been in business and politics. But you didn't get to be President of the United States without knowing
a little something about everything. Or at least not without knowing how to fake it well.
"An asteroid, sir, that's right. That's the problem."
"I take it a mile in diameter is substantial, as asteroids go?"
"Substantial enough, sir."
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"I'm beginning to get the feeling, both from what I've been hearing whispered around and now from your
attitude,Willy, that this isn't going to be something I'm going to be allowed to ignore."
"I'm afraid not, Mr. President." The Science Advisor's expression was solemn.
Fraser sighed resignedly and leaned back in the thickly padded chair. It squeaked ever so slightly."Why
not?"
"There are two problems with this particular asteroid, sir. The first is that nobody saw it coming. It's not
big enough to announce itself boldly, but once it crossed the lunar orbit, it should have been picked up by
half a dozen observatories, or at least a few of the hyperactive amateurs who do a lot of astronomy's
dirty work."
"And it wasn't?" the President inquired.
"No, sir.It just kind of showed up. Solar objects don't play trick or treat. It's against the rules. This thing
has broken a lot of rules. One minute the immediate terrestrial vicinity is empty and the nextit's home to
this rock. Somebody should have seen it coming long before it entered orbit."
"So it's in orbit?" The President's interest was clearly piqued. "Don't these comets and such just go
flashing past and then disappear?"
"Normally that's just what happens, sir.But not this thing. It came barreling in at God knows what
velocity, skimmed the outer atmosphere, and slowed down.Slowed down astonishingly fast, as a matter
of fact. We're very interested in how that happened. Initial observations indicate that it's not a pallasite
or—"
"Excuse me, Willy?"
"Sorry, sir.An exotic type of metallic meteorite.Preliminary analysis suggests that this one's composition
is unremarkable, except for an occasional odd blip on isolated readouts."
"I'm glad to hear it." The President had a wicked sense of humor, which he chose to display only in
private. Earle had been the recipient of it on more than one occasion.
"It's that occasional blip that has so many of my colleagues intrigued, sir. They wonder if it might explain
why no one saw this particular rock coming. It's not just our people either. The Russians, the Japanese,
the Europeans; they all missed it too."
"Maybe it's just that nobody was looking in the right place at the right time."
Earle nodded. "That's entirely possible, sir. In fact at the moment, that's the most reasonable explanation.
Especially when you consider that it came in over the Antarctic. Unfortunately, that doesn't help us with
the second problem."
"It better be a big one." Fraser glanced significantly at the clock.
Earle squirmed inwardly, wishing some of the big boys from Houston were there to back him up. None
of them could spare the time, however. They were all working furiously on the Problem.
"It's the orbit, sir. That's the trouble. It's a declining orbit.Rapidly declining, as a matter of fact. It really
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doesn't make any sense. Considering the speed at which the object must have entered the solar system, it
should have zipped on past instead of letting itself be captured. The calculations..." He fumbled clumsily
with the inside pocket of his jacket. "Here, sir: I sketched it all out for you. I thought it might make the
situation a little easier to understand." He smiled hopefully. "You know: a picture's worth...?"
Fraser straightened in his chair and took the drawing. With simple, straightforward lines it showed the
Earth, the Moon, and a tight ellipse encircling the Earth. At the far point of the ellipse was a small dot.
The President glanced up at his advisor. "This isn't the kind of orbit the shuttles use, is it?Or any of our
communications satellites?"
"No, sir.Those would be near-perfect circles, each representing a stable orbit. See how extreme this one
is?" Leaning forward, he touched the ellipse where it came nearest to Earth. "If something isn't done very
soon, this asteroid's orbit will decay rapidly, and it will enter our atmosphere, at which point it will crash
into the surface, either in one very large piece and many tiny ones or in a number of fairly large ones.
Again, much depends on its composition." He straightened. "I'm told we'll have more accurate figures
later this afternoon."
Warren Fraser nodded slowly and rubbed his lower lip with the forefinger of his left hand. He no longer
looked at the clock. The President of the United States, Earle noted absently, had hairy knuckles.
"What happens then?Worst-case scenario, Willy."
Earle considered. "I can't give you specifics, sir. No one can. Everything depends on the size of the
pieces, their chemical makeup, and where they strike. If they come down in the vicinity of, say, Easter
Island, we can expect possible tsunamis throughout the Pacific Basin.Middle of the Atlantic or Indian
oceans, more of the same. If a lot of it burns up on entry, the effects could be minimal."
"I see." The President's expression did not change. "What if these hypothetical pieces don't land in the
middle of the ocean? What if a big chunk were to come down somewhere near here?"
"Why, in that case, sir, no one would have to worry about which party is going to dominate the next
session of Congress. Or any other phase of government, for that matter. Personally, I've always thought it
would be more appropriate for the capital to be located in a more central location.Missouri, for
example."
"As bad as that," the President muttered.
"Yes, sir, as bad as that.We might lose everything as far north as Philadelphia.Baltimore, certainly."
"So much for waterfront redevelopment."Fraser stared evenly at his advisor. "There's no way you can
predict where it will come down?"
"No, sir.Nor in how many pieces, nor how big orsmall they'll he.Just that it's likely to make an awful
mess of wherever it strikes. Remember, we've only been on this for less than twenty-four hours. The
astronomy people have to coordinate observations with the chemists and so on. If it's mostly nickel-iron,
well, that's not good. It means most of it's liable to come down in one piece. We don't have a lot of time."
"But itcould break up into small pieces, disintegrate on entry?"
"Yes, sir.Though I don't see much of an advantage in being tagged by a shotgun as opposed to a rifle."
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The President grunted softly."All right.So much for wishful thinking. What do we do about it? Is there
anything wecan do about it?" He was reaching for the phone.The phone that could command legions, or
dollars. "I'm going to get on this myself. We'll appoint a top-flight committee—"
"Please, sir." Earle put forward a restraining hand. "I'm afraid that the standard congressional speed of
response isn't going to be adequate in this case. We have to do somethingright away."
Fraser left the phone in its cradle and steepled his fingers. "You wouldn't talk like that unless thereis
something that can be done. Well, let's have it. I hope it won't cost too many votes."
"Waiting isliable to cost voters, sir.Thousands of them." Earle swallowed. This was really why he'd
sought the meeting with the President. Across the country, dozens of scientists and engineers were
depending on him to sell the idea. He hoped he'd be able to. So far, it was theonly idea.
"Preliminary modeling suggests that it should be possible to adjust the asteroid's orbit, to nudge it into a
stable position."
"I see. I presume this can't be done by landing a few hundred players from the NFL on one side of the
object and having them all jump up and down simultaneously?"
Earle smiled, relieved that the President was able to find some levity in such a terribly serious situation.
"No, sir." Now came the difficult part. "Actually, it would involve the use of low-level nuclear explosives.
Calculations show that they could be placed—"
Fraser interrupted."Just a minute, Willy. Nuclear?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I know how controversial this is going to be. But nukes are really the only things with
enough kick to affect an object of this size. There are no alternatives. And it has to be precise. We don't
want to bust this thing up. We just want to adjust its attitude."
"I'm going to have the same problem with Congress.Nukes." The President shook his head slowly. "Can
you see me going to a bunch of senators with this?"
"You have to, sir. Tell them that if we don't, and don't do it fast, a number of representatives are liable to
lose something more than a few votes. Like entire districts, for example."
Fraser sighed."All right. That's my job. If I can't get authorization, we'll have to do it by presidential
decree. Assuming the procedure can be cleared, do we have anything suitable with which to do the
work?"
"We have very little experience with anything but weapons-grade nukes, Mr. President. But the Russians
have been using them for decades and—"
"Oh, wonderful.Congress is going to love this."
"It's not as bad asall that, sir." Earle tried to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. "We've been sharing
information with them for years, especially as regards long-term space missions."
Fraser considered. "A cooperative enterprise could be useful to both sides." He smiled thinly. "It would
also allow us to share the blame if this thing flops."
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"We've already been in contact with the appropriate people in Moscow and Khabarovsk. They assure
us that not only can their devices do the job cleanly and on the first try but that they have the necessary
kilo tonnage on hand."
"These 'devices,'" the President murmured. "They'll fit on a shuttle?With no danger to the crew?"
"Yes, sir.Fully shielded and ready to be armed. Actually, compared to some of the payloads we've been
putting in orbit recently, this one will be comparatively small. I've scanned the schematics, and the
mechanics are pretty basic. The Russians have always tried to keep things simple."
The President's voice was soft. "It's a long way from using cherry bombs to blow up pop bottles on the
Fourth.Used to do that when I wasa kid. We won't be able to hide this one, Willy."
"No, sir.Everyone will be watching.Everyone on the planet. We can do this, Mr. President. The Russians
have the package, and we have the delivery system."
"Can't we just shoot the 'package' up there and avoid exposing our people to the possible
consequences?"
"I'm afraid not, sir. In order for them to be maximally effective, the explosives have to be sited precisely
on the asteroid's surface. It means a shuttle trip, matching orbits, hand placement. There's no getting
around that."
"I'll take your word for it, Willy."
"It's not my word, Mr. President. Several hundred people have been working overtime to put this
together. It's the best chance we have."
Fraser was quiet for a long moment, gazingat something unseen. Eventually he looked again at his visitor.
"You know what the hallmark of a successful politician is, Willy?"
"No, sir."Earle forced himself to listen. The President had a tendency to ramble.
"It's the ability to find some good even in the most godawful situation. For example, we're not talking the
end of the world here."
"No, sir," the Science Advisor murmured."Only a meaningful portion of it."
"That's right; encourage me. Our people are sure the Russian nukes will work?"
"Reasonably sure, sir.In science nothing is certain. But they have used them before, to dig tunnels for
canals and expose large, deep ore bodies, and they've refined them over the years."
"Assuming they do, think of the possible benefits. It means that America can once again lay claim to
being the world's savior. I realize that when I say something like that, it may sound unnecessarily cold to
you, Willy, but as President I have to take everything into account. I do hope to be reelected in two
years."
"Of course, sir."Earle kept his expression carefully neutral. In the previous election he had voted for
Fraser's opponent.
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"Now, let me see if I understand something correctly. If this rock can be properly stabilized, it will go
into more or less permanent orbit around the Earth?"
"That's correct, sir."
"Then we could use it to replace many of our existing communications and scientific satellites, couldn't
we?"
Earle smiled in what he hoped wasn't a patronizing manner. "Not entirely, sir. It would be a stable orbit
but not a geosynchronous one. But it could serve as a useful base for many scientific programs. A cheap
space station, and far larger than anything we could put up."
The President was nodding approvingly. "Good enough. The Earth will acquire a second moon.With
potential economic benefits."
"Perhaps, sir.However, I don't think that should be our first priority."
Fraser swiveled slightly in his chair. "You don't have to justify expenses to Congress, Willy. I do. Wait
and see. If we go through with this, there'll be half a dozen senators insisting we claim the rock asU.S.
territory. Then I'll have to mollify Kubiltov and his gang, and the Europeans will sulk, and ... well, you get
the picture. There's more than science involved here."
"Yes, sir."Earle was growing impatient. "However it's handled, sir, we need to move on this right away.
Falling rocks know no politics."
"Rocks and politics both involve leverage, Willy. You've worked in Washington long enough to know
that."
"I have, sir. I'm just trying to emphasize the need for speed in this matter. Every moment is important. If
we wait too long, the asteroid's orbit will decay to the point where no amount of explosive, nuclear or
otherwise, will be able to affect it."
"I'll do the best I can, Willy. I promise I'll sign the necessary authorizations as soon as the Cabinet has
been consulted. We'll clear this afternoon's agenda so we can deal with this. NASA will be the
beneficiary of a presidential decree by five o'clock this evening." His eyes bored into the Science
Advisor. "God help you, Willy, if your people are wrong about these nuclear explosives and they don't
work properly."
Earle met the President's gaze evenly. "God help us, Mr. President, if they don't work, period." He
turned to leave.
"One more thing, Willy."
The Science Advisor paused."Yes, sir?" From the wall, Andrew Jackson seemed to be watching him
intently.
"If this doesn't come off as planned, we could get the blame for whatever angle of approach the object
eventually takes."
"I know that, sir. This is an unprecedented situation. There are no guarantees. The only thing we know
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for certain is that if we don't do something, and do it quickly, the asteroid will eventually strike the
surface. It's only a question of where, and of how many will die."
Fraser nodded. "Then you'd better get going. You have people you need to talk to, and I have to make
some phone calls."
"Right, Mr. President." Earle left the Chief Executive reaching for one of the three telephones on his
desk. It was the direct line to Moscow. Not that it mattered what he and President Kubiltov said to each
other. All that mattered now was setting off the right-size packages in the proper places on the surface of
a fast-moving rock the size of a small Iowa town.
The immediate priority was finding the best people to deliver those packages.

Chapter 2

It was Low's favorite place in the city.Down by the water, close to where the incomparable bridge
spanned the inconceivable crack in the exquisitely beautiful coastal mountains. To impoverished
immigrants from Asia and the Pacific Basin, it doubtless still was a golden gate. To the residents of Marin
County, it was a shorter commute.To tourists from around the country and around the world, the ultimate
souvenir picture.
Today the entire length was visible, devoid of mist. That would disappoint the tourists, he knew. More
than a few expected the fog to perform on cue, as if the city had giant fog machines installed outside the
gate to create just the right photo-op when the tour boats were cruising by.
Fog or not, Low loved the bridge. There was no more gracile public structure in the United States.
Simple and functional, the Taj Mahal of the Far West. He never tired of looking at it.
Off to his right, the Alcatraz boat was just leaving. A covey of gulls swooped low in search of edible
debris. Two harangued him raucously.
He held up the empty sack from the fast-food restaurant. "Sorry, guys. No more French fries. Try
something radical. Go look for fish." Thoroughly urbanized, the gulls refused to believe him. They settled
on a nearby wave-washed rock and eyed him petulantly, in spite of the fact that he'd finished his meal
twenty minutes earlier. He didn't blame the gulls. French fries were an easier catch than tuna fry.
There weren't many people out on the point today. Besides himself, he'd seen only two couples. The
point was inherently romantic, a fine place to smooch. Cold as it was, with the wind skipping in past the
Farallons, you naturally gravitated to your companion in search of body heat. In contrast, Low was
alone, unless one counted the fish and the crabs, the plovers and the gulls.
After morning rush hour, the bridge quieted down. He could see the first wall of fog, hovering well
outside the gate, waiting for the slight change in temperature that would allow it to roll in and smother bay
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and city. That business about creeping in on little cat's feet was baloney, Low knew. The fog was an
eager opportunist, charging forward to fill every crack and crevice the instant it was meteorologically
permissible.
He settled back in his heavy coat, altogether comfortable with his solitude and cholesterol-laden lunch.
He did not expect to be disturbed.
That's when he saw a familiar face coming toward him. Harry Page. The NASA representative looked
the same as he had the last time they'd met, at the conclusion of some inane official function.Low's last
official function. How long ago had that been? Well over a year, anyway.
Now he was here, picking his way awkwardly over the rocks, an anxious expression on his wide,
bearded face. It didn't bode well for the rest of the afternoon. It presaged formal conversation, which
Low wanted no part of.
He could get up quickly, pretend he didn't see the visitor, and make a dash for his car. Page could never
catch him. But Low knew there would be another car somewhere up above, on the access road,
probably parked right next to his own.A featureless black or white, wholly functional government car.
There would be a driver waiting for Page, and perhaps an assistant.
Resignedly, he wondered what Harry wanted. It must be important for them to send him all the way out
here instead of communicating by phone or fax.Important enough to disturb his retirement. He consoled
himself a little with the knowledge that Page probably wasn't looking forward to the encounter either.
Then it was too late to attempt a graceful exit, because the NASA rep was waving to him and calling his
name. Sensing coming awkwardness, the gulls took flight, deciding to try their luck down by the wharf.
An indifferent Low slipped the crumpled, greasy bag into a jacket pocket. It was the kind of sloppiness
that would never have been tolerated on a shuttle mission, and he luxuriated in it, delighting in his
Earth-bound status. He had an uneasy sensation that it was about to be disturbed.
"Boston!" Page waved again, with studied enthusiasm."How ya doin', Boz?"
"I'm fine, Harry. Pull up a rock." Page did his best, and Low watched him squirm uncomfortably. "What
brings you out to the edge of the continent?" Low already knew the answer: he waited to hear the
corollary.
Page winced. The rocks didn't suit him. Though the two men were about the same age, what was left of
the NASA rep's hair was streaked with gray. Low always believed the radiation in Washington was
more damaging than any to be encountered in space.
"Partly the food, Boz.I had breakfast down on Fisherman's Wharf this morning. Dungeness crab omelet.
Can't get that inside the Beltway."
Riding high in the water, a Liberian-registered container ship was entering the gate, steaming smoothly
beneath the bridge. On its way to pick up cargo bound for Yokohama, Low thought.Or Singapore, or
Djakarta. He sighed. There was no escape there either. The bureaucrats had conquered the planet, and
you had to coexist with them no matter where you lived.
"How long you been looking for me?"