Libby Trask, who had found her way to Gulf City not long before Sy and his friends, said, “Isn’t that exactly what their message was proposing?” “Not quite. They are telling us we have to identify the first star that changed — changed in a rather short period of time, say a few thousand years — from some other spectral type into a red dwarf. If we can find that one, we’ll know where the stellarforming started. Then it’s a good working assumption that whatever did it was and is still near that star.”
“And we are supposed to discover that star — how?” Judith Niles had called the meeting, but Charlene sensed that she was no longer running it. Somehow Sy had taken over.
“I don’t know, but if Peron and Elissa say they’ve combed the existing data base received from Kermel Objects, I believe them. That’s the bad news. The good news is that new data are received here all the time, and we never know until it arrives and we’ve analyzed the geometry of stellar positions whether it portrays this galaxy as it was last week, or ten million years ago.” He turned to Emil Garville. “You have the most experience time-ordering the Kermel Object image data. What do you think?”
Garville was a huge man, slow-moving and slow-talking. He was one of the Gulf City residents who didn’t bother to wear a wig, and at some time — almost certainly in a Planetfest accident — something had fractured his skull with a frightful blow just above the forehead. He rubbed at the scar-tissued fissure while he took his time answering Sy’s question.
“I’ve tried the obvious tricks,” he said at last. “I have all the images we’ve ever received, and the stellar geometry allows me to assign an age to each one. The times themselves seem random. I’ve used the images and their ages to plot out the number of red dwarfs in the whole affected area of the spiral arm as a function of time, and it’s monotonically increasing. The numbers go up, and once a star has changed to a red dwarf it never changes back.
“I’ve analyzed the plots, number of red dwarfs against time, but they don’t follow any smooth function. The most you can say is that the rate of increase with time is somewhere between linear and quadratic, which is bad news for the future. I’ve done my best to extrapolate backwards, and I can make rough estimates of the time when the fraction of red dwarf stars to total stellar population in our local spiral arm is the same as in other arms of our galaxy. What we don’t have are pairs of Kermel Object images corresponding to those times, which might show the first stellarforming change taking place and allow us to pinpoint the star involved. We have a couple of images showing the situation from long ago — thirty million years and more — and the star counts from those give me confidence that at one time this galactic arm had the same stellar type distribution as everywhere else. But that’s all. I’ve never seen a way to use the results.”
Sy was nodding. “You’re not alone in that. I believe you’ve squeezed out of the data all there is to be squeezed. We could all take another look, but I doubt we’ll add to what you have.”
“So you have nothing to add?” Judith Niles made an attempt to recapture control of the meeting. “In that case — “
“I didn’t say I had nothing to add.” As Sy continued, Charlene could feel the tension returning. “I believe I know exactly what we must do. It’s simple, it calls for huge patience, and it’s going to be enormously frustrating for people like me — because it’s totally passive.”
He became silent, until finally Judith Niles betrayed her own lack of patience and said, “Well, then?”
“We do what you established Gulf City to allow us to do. We remain in S-space, or even in T-state, and we wait. While we wait, our instruments eavesdrop on the whole sky, listening all the while for more signals from the Kermel Objects. Eventually we will acquire the pair of images that we need, a pair which Emil assures us are not in the current data bank. We’ll find two consecutive images in which exactly one star has changed to become a red dwarf in the interval between the two. And that star will be the one we want.”
Judith Niles said, “Eventually! How long might that be? By the time that the images you’re asking for come in, we might be millions of years into the future. The whole spiral arm might be red dwarfs.”
“True.” Sy sounded casual as he stared around the little group. “The Director is quite right. ‘Eventually’ could also mean ‘too late.’ That’s always a possibility. But I still propose to do what I’ve suggested. And if somebody comes up with an idea that’s definitely better, while I’m watching and waiting, then I’ll be delighted to switch.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Charlene had done none of the work herself, which was perhaps why the results so fascinated her.
She pressed the button again, and in front of her, in all its sprawling orange-red splendor, lay the local galactic arm. It hung for a few moments, glowing and static; then the change began. Here and there, at scattered points within the display, specks of orange-red were replaced by points of cyan, magenta, blue-white, and luminous green. At the same time, the whole spiral arm shifted, creeping to a slightly different configuration.
It was a slow process, because the stars were so numerous; but in the time it took to blink, somewhere in the image a spark of orange-red was turned off and a mote of some other hue took its place.
Blink. Another star was transformed.
Blink: another star.
Again and again and again. Now the display was no longer predominantly orange-red. Other star colors were becoming more numerous, even starting to dominate. The lost stars formed no pattern, but somehow the eye discovered a shrinking circle. As the display proceeded farther, that circle became an explicit overlay, a colored ring whose center might shift but whose size always diminished.
The end came swiftly. The circle narrowed and narrowed, until finally it formed a halo around a single spark of orange. Nothing happened for a few seconds, and then, suddenly and surprisingly, that spark changed from orange to green. The slow crawl of the spiral arm to a different geometry continued, and there were still orange-red stars to be seen; but there were no more color changes. “There it is.” A voice spoke from the darkness behind Charlene. “The Ur-star. Less than three light-years away. Tell me what we will find there.” Charlene touched a button, reversing the time flow in the display. Now it would move forward, from the distant past to the present and then at last to a future where the orange-red glow of red dwarf stars would dominate the spiral arm. She swung around in her seat. “If I knew what we’d find, we wouldn’t need to go. That’s a question for someone smarter than me.”
“As usual, you underestimate yourself.” Emil Garville, a head and a half taller than Charlene and twice her width, squeezed into the chair at her side. “I don’t think so.” She smiled at him. He was unfailingly polite and considerate, and she was always glad to see him. “You know, Emil, I’m not one of your supercompetent Planetfest winners. I’m just an underqualified lab technician who happened to get swept up in this at the very beginning, eighty-one thousand years ago.” Charlene nodded at the display in front of her. “For instance, I could never have done what you did, building that display from bits and pieces of Kermel Object data.”
“You give me too much credit.” Emil rubbed at the fissure on his skull, in what Charlene had decided was an unconscious attempt to hide it. His refusal to wear a wig that covered the scar was a deliberate statement — look all you want to, it said, it doesn’t bother me — but somewhere inside him that wasn’t true. He had a hang-up that made him display what he would most like to conceal. Charlene wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to feel embarrassed, that in an odd way his craggy, fractured skull made him more attractive. Unfortunately, her hang-ups wouldn’t ever permit any such statement.