The Andromeda Strain (19 page)

“What about voice communication during the critical period?”

“There were linkups between Sydney, Kennedy, and Grand Bahama, all routed through Houston. Houston had the big computer as well. But in this instance, Houston was just helping out; all decisions came from Scoop Mission Control in Vandenberg. We have the voice communication at the back of the file. It’s quite revealing.”

TRANSCRIPT OF VOICE COMMUNICATIONS

SCOOP MISSION CONTROL

VANDENBERG AFB

HOURS 0096:59 TO 0097:39

THIS IS A CLASSIFIED TRANSCRIPT.

IT HAS NOT BEEN ABRIDGED OR EDITED.

Hall said, “What about the deleted passages?”

“Major Manchek at Vandenberg told me,” Stone said, “that they had to do with the Russian craft in the area. The two stations eventually concluded that the Russians had not, either accidentally or purposely, brought down the Scoop satellite. No one has since suggested differently.”

They nodded.

“It’s tempting,” Stone said. “The Air Force maintains a watchdog facility in Kentucky that tracks all satellites in earth orbit. It has a dual function, both to follow old satellites known to be in orbit and to track new ones. There are twelve satellites in orbit at this time that cannot be accounted for; in other words, they are not ours, and are not the result of announced Soviet launches. It is thought that some of these represent navigation satellites for Soviet submarines. Others are presumed to be spy satellites. But the important thing is that Russian or not, there are a hell of a lot of satellites up there. As of last Friday, the Air Force reported five hundred and eighty-seven orbiting bodies around the earth. This includes some old, nonfunctioning satellites from the American Explorer series and the Russian Sputnik series. It also includes boosters and final stages—anything in stable orbit large enough to reflect back a radar beam.”

“That’s a lot of satellites.”

“Yes, and there are probably many more. The Air Force thinks there is a lot of junk out there—nuts, bolts, scraps of metal—all in more or less stable orbit. No orbit, as you know, is completely stable. Without frequent corrections, any satellite will eventually decay out and spiral down to earth, burning up in the atmosphere. But that may be years, even decades, after the launch. In any event, the Air Force estimates that the total number of individual orbiting objects could be anything up to seventy-five thousand.”

“So a collision with a piece of junk is possible.”

“Yes. Possible.”

“How about a meteor?”

“That is the other possibility, and the one Vandenberg favors. A random event, most likely a meteor.”

“Any showers these days?”

“None, apparently. But that does not rule out a meteor collision.”

Leavitt cleared his throat. “There is still another possibility.”

Stone frowned. He knew that Leavitt was imaginative, and that this trait was both a strength and a defect. At times, Leavitt could be startling and exciting; at others, merely irritating. “It’s rather farfetched,” Stone said, “to postulate debris from some extragalactic source other than—”

“I agree,” Leavitt said. “Hopelessly farfetched. No evidence for it whatever. But I don’t think we can afford to ignore the possibility.”

A gong sounded softly. A lush female voice, which Hall now recognized as that of Gladys Stevens of Omaha, said softly, “You may proceed to the next level, gentlemen.”

13
Level V

LEVEL V WAS PAINTED a quiet shade of blue, and they all wore blue uniforms. Burton showed Hall around.

“This floor,” he said, “is like all the others. It’s circular. Arranged in a series of concentric circles, actually. We’re on the outer perimeter now; this is where we live and work. Cafeteria, sleeping rooms, everything is out here. Just inside is a ring of laboratories. And inside that, sealed off from us, is the central core. That’s where the satellite and the two people are now.”

“But they’re sealed off from us?”

“Yes.”

“Then how do we get to them?”

“Have you ever used a glove box?” Burton asked.

Hall shook his head.

Burton explained that glove boxes were large clear plastic boxes used to handle sterile materials. The boxes had holes cut in the sides, and gloves attached with an airtight seal. To handle the contents, you slipped your hands into the gloves and reached into the box. But your fingers never touched the material, only the gloves.

“We’ve gone one step further,” Burton said. “We have whole rooms that are nothing more than glorified glove boxes. Instead of a glove for your hand, there’s a whole plastic suit, for your entire body. You’ll see what I mean.”

They walked down the curved corridor to a room marked CENTRAL CONTROL. Leavitt and Stone were there, working quietly. Central Control was a cramped room, stuffed with electronic equipment. One wall was glass, allowing the workers to look into the adjacent room.

Through the glass, Hall saw mechanical hands moving the capsule to a table and setting it down. Hall, who had never seen a capsule before, watched with interest. It was smaller than he had imagined, no more than a yard long; one end was seared and blackened from the heat of reentry.

The mechanical hands, under Stone’s direction, opened the little scoop-shaped trough in the side of the capsule to expose the interior.

“There,” Stone said, taking his hands from the controls. The controls looked like a pair of brass knuckles; the operator slipped his own hands into them and moved his hands as he wanted the mechanical hands to move.

“Our next step,” he said, “is to determine whether there is still anything in the capsule which is biologically active. Suggestions?”

“A rat,” Leavitt said. “Use a black Norway.”

The black Norway rat was not black at all; the name simply designated a strain of laboratory animal, perhaps the most famous strain in all science. Once, of course, it had been both black and Norwegian; but years of breeding and countless generations had made it white, small, and docile. The biological explosion had created a demand for genetically uniform animals. In the last thirty years more than a thousand strains of “pure” animals had been evolved artificially. In the case of the black Norwegian, it was now possible for a scientist anywhere in the world to conduct experiments using this animal and be assured that other scientists elsewhere could repeat or enlarge upon his work using virtually identical organisms.

“Follow with a rhesus,” Burton said. “We will want to get onto primates sooner or later.”

The others nodded. Wildfire was prepared to conduct experiments with monkeys and apes, as well as smaller, cheaper animals. A monkey was exceedingly difficult to work with: the little primates were hostile, quick, intelligent. Among scientists, the New World monkeys, with their prehensile tails, were considered particularly trying. Many a scientist had engaged three or four lab assistants to hold down a monkey while he administered an injection—only to have the prehensile tail whip up, grasp the syringe, and fling it across the room.

The theory behind primate experimentation was that these animals were closer biologically to man. In the 1950’s, several laboratories even attempted experiments on gorillas, going to great trouble and expense to work with these seemingly most human of animals. However, by 1960 it had been demonstrated that of the apes, the chimpanzee was biochemically more like man than the gorilla. (On the basis of similarity to man, the choice of laboratory animals is often surprising. For example, the hamster is preferred for immunological and cancer studies, since his responses are so similar to man’s, while for studies of the heart and circulation, the pig is considered most like man.)

Stone put his hands back on the controls, moving them gently. Through the glass, they saw the black metal fingers move to the far wall of the adjoining room, where several caged lab animals were kept, separated from the room by hinged airtight doors. The wall reminded Hall oddly of an automat.

The mechanical hands opened one door and removed a rat in its cage, brought it into the room, and set it down next to the capsule.