Emprise by Michael P. Kube-McDowell Read Free Book Online

of Cassiopeia.”
    The room was filled with a chirping electronic duet accompanied by a background symphony of static. Having heard it a dozen times already, Eddington watched their faces. Anofi sat forward and listened intently, her head tilted and the corner of her mouth curled in the beginning of a smile. Winston looked at his hands, calmly picking at the dirt under his fingernails, his face as impassive as ever. Aikens gazed dreamily at the ceiling, rubbing absently at the bristly gray growth on his upper Up.
    When he heard a sequence that sounded vaguely like the “One-Note Samba,” Eddington turned off the tape and looked expectantly at his visitors.
    “Did you make that recording?” asked Aikens.
    “Yes.”
    “And the conditions were good?”
    “Yes.”
    “No chance of it being an interference pattern?”
    Eddington opened his mouth to say that Allen Chandliss had received the same signal in the United States, but somehow all that came out was, “In my judgment, no.”
    “Don’t you think that might be jumping to conclusions?” Winston asked. “What observatory were they kind enough to open up for you, Larry?”
    “The equipment was adequate,” Eddington said. “Where doesn’t matter.”
    “He may have a point,” Aikens began.
    “It was the SKYNET dish at Duxford. The equipment was up to it. Does that mean you think I’m not?”
    “Of course not. I’m simply trying not to leap to conclusions. It’s bloody hard, too, when I want you to be right.” He sniffed and shook his head. “SETI. Where are the charts?”
    “I haven’t any.”
    “Good lord, lad, didn’t you think ahead? We’ll need them. There’s not much we can do with that,” Aikens said, gesturing toward the tape deck.
    “Do?” Winston sat forward. “I don’t see what there is to do, with or without charts.”
    “Simpleton. If it’s a beacon, it’s bound to contain information in some coded format,” Anofi said impatiently. “The charts will help us find the patterns. Lord knows it’s going to be hard enough. Frank proved that with his sample message back in ’73.”
    “Frank? What message?” Eddington asked. “I don’t recall the story.”
    “Frank Drake—an American. I don’t think he came to Mullard any time you were there. He came up with an idea for a picture message using binary numbers—here, give me a piece of paper.”
    She quickly scrawled a line of numbers: 0010‌0001‌0011‌1110‌0100‌0010‌000100. “See anything in that?”
    “Wait a minute—is this what you called a Drake picture?” he said to Aikens. “How many characters—ten… thirty. Give me the paper. Let’s see—this could be a 2 x 15, a 3 x 10—let’s try 5 x 6.”
    On the paper, he wrote:
    00100
00100
11111
00100
00100
00100
    “A cross,” he pronounced.
    “Right. Drake’s message was quite a bit more complex, but the point is, that code was devised by a human and distributed to another group of humans that knew Drake well and were very bright to boot—and only one, Barney Oliver, figured it out. In other words, the message was not only from the same planet, but from the same species, social group, and education level. Assuming that that”—she pointed at the reel of tape—“is what I hope it is, we’ve got quite a task facing us.”
    Aikens crossed the room and plucked the reel of tape from the machine. “You did think far enough ahead to duplicate this?”
    “Yes,” said Eddington.
    “I’ll get charts made.”
    “How?”
    He dismissed the question with a wave of the hand. “I’ll need about a week. Meet here again Tuesday?” Ti l be here,” Anofi said quickly. ‘Terence?” Winston struggled to his feet. “I’ll be here. But don’t think for a minute I believe one word of this!” he said, waggling a finger at them. “It just happens to be more interesting than what I usually do on Tuesdays.” He stumped out of the room.
    And that was all. When the others had left, Eddington wandered from room to