“Do you suppose that of all the destinations we could have chosen for our second jump, we chose this system solely based on eons-old Martian surveys? Or do you suppose that we may have had another, relatively newer point of interest?”
“Speaking of seeing things,” Lamont said, watching Ed’s face carefully as he sipped his coffee, “There’s something I wanted to ask you about. In your role, you must have a rather comprehensive grasp of United Space’s operations, yeah?”
The Chief Technician shrugged, taking a slow puff from his pipe.
Lamont forged ahead. “When I was on Mars, I spoke with a prospector who said that she had seen a giant radio array being constructed on Triton. I’ve also heard other accounts of United Space building radio dishes and the like. Radios pointed out of the Solar System, not into it.”
Ed regarded the newspaperman expressionlessly and, after an uncomfortable silence, said: “So what?”
“So ever since we came upon this tower, one question has been nagging at me,” Lamont explained. “What’s it for? Why build a giant antenna to transmit all that noise out into empty space?”
“That’s what we were all wondering,” Ed agreed, pulling his pipe stem out of his mouth, “Until we got distracted with more urgent matters.”
“Here’s what I’m curious about,” Lamont pressed, leaning forward. “The signals being sent by the tower are very strong. Are they strong enough that they could be picked in the Solar System—if there were a radio dish pointed in the right direction to receive them?”
Spratt pivoted his chair and lowered his feet from the desktop. “You’re forgetting something,” he said. “The Solar System is 3,000 light years away from here. Meaning that a radio signal from here would take 3,000 years to reach it.”
“We don’t know how old this tower is,” Lamont countered. “Could be that old. Could be older.”
“Okay, what’s your point?” Ed asked. His voice was starting to sound a little thin.
“I’m just curious, is all,” Lamont repeated, keeping his tone light and conversational. “Do you suppose that of all the destinations we could have chosen for our second jump, we chose this system solely based on eons-old Martian surveys? Or do you suppose that we may have had another, relatively newer point of interest?”
Ed stood up, straightening his uniform jacket. “I’ll tell you one thing,” he said flatly. “Whatever we were expecting from this system, it sure as hell wasn’t a crippling emergency. But that’s space for you. Unfortunately, it means all our resources are tied up with repairing the ship. Until that’s done, you’re going to have to do sleuthing on your own time.”
“I intend to,” Lamont said, gulping down the dregs of his coffee. “When’s the next shuttle?”
“Tomorrow, maybe the next day,” Spratt replied, tapping out his pipe. “Today we’ve got to make a run to the moon for raw materials.”
Lamont’s brow furrowed in momentary disappointment. Then he asked: “Do you have room for a tourist?”