Chap. 398 Incognito

The Division Chiefs at Landing didn’t normally call for a Landing wide meeting with the Council of Six. It was always the other way around-the Council met with Lord Holders, Weyrleaders and Craft Hall Masters, and allowed Administration and the various division chiefs to deal with smaller tasks. Of course, anyone on Pern could approach the Council with a petition, but it took weeks to get to Landing from the farther flung corners of the planet. Very few people could afford a dragonflight and their Holders or other masters took a dim view of their people jumping the chain of command.

Many groused that there should be a Landing North, but none of the Holders or other landowners had any desire to give up part of their land or hold to support a Northern Landing facility.

The logistics, too, were untenable. The vast majority of Pern didn’t care where Landing was and most of them would never, ever go there. Especially with the advent of datalinks, many problems were solved electronically.

But one morning, the word went across the entire Landing network that all division chiefs were to meet with the Council of Six in the council chamber, as well as Lord Lytol, Councilman Emeritus, for disturbing news.

The room was filling up with anyone who was free to escape their work station. As it did the decibel level began to rise.

“It’s supposed to be just division chiefs,” Jansen said, trying to hear above the clamor, “but I’d sooner go a week without eating than to miss this.”

K’ndar followed Jansen to take a seat as far from the front as possible.

“What’s going on?” K’ndar asked as he sat down next to her. He saw Raylan take a seat next to Evvelin, the Admin Chief. A woman sat on her other side.

“I think I know, but the Council called it, not us,” Jansen said.

“Who’s that sitting next to Evvelin?” he asked.

“I didn’t catch her name. She’s the chief of the new division, Communications. They’ll be taking care of all the incoming and outgoing datalink calls, mostly, for which I am so grateful. Dealing with datalink calls takes up so much of my time,” Jansen said. “Here comes Data, he looks like he’s got vespids in his hair.” Data’s Division Chief was pacing like a caged wher, waiting for the Council to enter and take their seats on the stage.

“You said your computer gave you a warning? I’m sorry, I didn’t fire up my computer as I’m on the duty roster all week, and was going out to report to Engineering to get an early start. Then I saw this, I have time, but I’ll have to go by nine.”

“What was your task for the week?”

“That’s what’s a bit odd, I was originally tasked to help Engineering dig up a leaking water pipe. But Admin snagged me as I was heading out, told me the task had changed and to report to Orlon in Maintenance to help open up a building. I don’t mind, really, Orlon has taught me a lot, he’s a good bloke. And I don’t care much for digging, you know. The soil here is all rock.”

“Well, I see him over on the other side, so I dare say you won’t be late,” Jansen said, nodding. I wish I could hear what he said, she thought. It’s so noisy in here, the acoustics are dreadful. Other people don’t seem to mind, but it’s giving me a headache. I hope it quiets down soon.

“You said it was a message on your computer?” K’ndar asked.

She shrugged. “It’s the weirdest thing, K’ndar, and I really don’t understand it. I was working on Turing when a red warning sign popped up. Usually when that happens it means the database is about to shut down for backup or maintenance, or something’s really, really wrong, but in this case, it just said, “Incognito stage advised within 24 hours.”

“Incognito? What does that mean?”

The young man sitting next to Jansen leaned past her to address K’ndar. His badge said “Apprentice, Communications”

“I’m sorry to eavesdrop, but incognito means to be disguised.”

“Disguised?”

“Aye. It’s a noun. It means to change one’s appearance or assume a false identity.”

Jansen grinned despite her dismay. “That’s interesting,” she said, then read his badge. “You’re Commo’s new apprentice?”

“Yes ma’am, I am, I got here almost a week ago, and I’m still baffled by this place. I’ll be learning to how to handle traffic, as we call it, you know, datalinks, stuff from the starship, the satellites, that sort of thing,” he said.

“What do you think of Landing?”

“Um, I am so confused. I am not quite sure where I live, everything here is so, um, like, square? I’m used to living in caverns, I’ve never seen a place like this, it’s like living on a chess board.”

K’ndar laughed. “Don’t feel bad, the only reason I was able to navigate at first was due to my fire lizard. You’ll get used to it. Just learn the names of the crossroads your quarters are on and that helps. Everything east and west is alphabetical, everything north and south is numbered.”

“Oh! I wish I’d been told that. My quarters, they’re so big, I’ve never had a place all to myself. It’s four zero three Hyperion.”

“That’s all you need, really, to find your quarters,” K’ndar said.

“And I’ll be happy for you to take the datalink calls off my desk,” Jansen said. “I’ve never heard the word incognito, the warning is something new for me.”

“It’s okay, ma’am. I…I, um, well, I know this sounds weird, but I read, a lot. When I got here the first place I asked to go to was the library. I love to read and I think the reason I wanted to work here at Landing was so I could get into the library. All the things I heard about the Library, they’re true! So many books! Maps on the wall, now I can see what Pern really looks like.

When my Hold got a datalink and the library was established, I found this database called a ‘dictionary’. It’s a compilation of all the words from Earth, as well as from Aldebaran, Vulcan, Earth, even words from the Nathi language. I started reading the dictionary! There are so many words we don’t use anymore. What surprised me most is how MANY languages there were on Earth. We have only one. Global is a lot easier, I think, than trying to learn a bunch of different languages. I wonder how did anyone on Earth communicate?

“Me, too,” K’ndar said.

“There was only one problem with reading the dictionary.”

“Oh?”

“I’d find a word, it intrigued me, and I would have to ping the database for more information. That database is called the ‘encyclopedia’ and it is hard to tear yourself away from it. You go from one topic to another and suddenly realize it’s midnight.”

They laughed. “How far did you get in the encyclopedia?”

He shook his head, ruefully. “Not far. I’m still only in the C’s. I’m reading about ‘codes’, not coding, like for a computer, codes for conveying information that you don’t want other people to read. You and your reader have to agree on what words and symbols mean. Then you can write what you want and if someone doesn’t know the codes, they can’t read it. You disguise it, you know, like this incognito warning. People have been using codes to transmit information for almost ten thousand years, information they don’t want just anybody to…”

“Here comes Headman Grafton,” Jansen said, relieved to be able to stop the young man. He’s a nice kid, but he is too verbose for me.

Good night, K’ndar thought, I thought my sister was a nonstop river of speech. This person makes her look positively laconic.

He grinned to himself. I’ve done a little bit of dictionary reading myself, he thought.

The noise abated in respect for the man. It didn’t take long for a newbie to learn that, despite being ‘only’ the Headman of Landing, Grafton was as highly regarded (and in some cases, more so) as any of the Council, for his vast knowledge of everyone who worked there-or had worked there. His blindness unnerved many because despite being sightless, he could easily discern what one was thinking as well as make his way through the complex.

“He’s bloody telepathic, like any dragon,” K’ndar had been told when he was just an apprentice himself, “you can’t keep a secret from ‘im. I think his fire lizard watches what every one is doing and snitches.”

The small man’s bronze fire lizard launched from Grafton’s shoulder and perched at the top of a small platform in front of the podium.

It’s been a while since I was last here, he thought, and someone must have thought it appropriate for Fafhrd to have a perch. The bronze was the only fire lizard allowed inside Landing Main, and only because he served as Grafton’s eyes.

Siskin sent him a feeling of jealousy.

It’s okay, Siskin, he sent to the blue fire lizard, he’s a bronze. You’re still the best of all fire lizards in all of Pern.

Siskin subsided. In a way, K’ndar thought, I’m glad that a bronze’s rank has its privileges amongst dragons-and fire lizards. Dragon culture can be useful at times.

The bronze’s gaze swept the room, his eyes glowing a studied orange. His eyes met K’ndar’s-and without thinking, K’ndar nodded. He might be a small fire lizard but there is no doubt he knows he’s a bronze fire lizard.

He says, Good day, dragonrider Raventh said.

And to him, and his master, good day K’ndar sent back.

Hearing him through Fafhrd, Grafton ‘looked’ at him from the front of the chamber. Again, K’ndar nodded in respect.

The chamber door whooshed open, and without turning his head, Grafton called “All Rise.”

The audience went silent as it rose to its feet.

The lords of the Council of Six entered, Lord Lytol, Councilman Emeritus, followed slowly. The Council then formed a corridor to allow the elderly Lytol to climb the three steps to his seat first.  He gripped a handrail that had been recently added for this very purpose. Only when he was seated did the Council members then file onto the stage and take their seats one level below that of Lord Lytol.

He shakes, K’ndar thought, he must be almost a hundred years old, and time seems be catching up to him.

The thought that the man might die sooner than anyone feared shook him. Lord Lytol, dying? No. It would be like Lessa or F’lar dying. Or what it must have felt like when Master Harper Robinton had died. I wasn’t even born yet, and to this day, that death affects us all.

What will it be like when Lord Lytol dies? It will be like Mt. Garben collapsing into the sea.

Hearing that the Council was seated, Grafton called out, “Please be seated.” The audience obeyed, expectantly.

Lord Cecilia was serving as Master Councilman this month.

“Data, if you please?” Grafton said, then moved to his seat alongside the podium. Fafhrd flew down to his shoulder.

At that moment, the screen behind the council lit up. K’ndar knew that someone from Data was in charge of projection.

The screen lit up with the warning sign Jansen had mentioned.

Incognito stage advised within 24 hours, it said, in bright red letters with exclamation points.

Incognito, K’ndar thought. Disguise. What in the world?

Data’s Chief saluted the Council and began.

“Thank you, my lords, for this unscheduled meeting. I know there are Holders and others waiting to petition you, but I felt the need to bring this to your attention as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Data. I’m assuming this is the message you referred to that appeared on our computers this morning?” Lord Cecilia asked.

“Aye, my lord. Allow me to explain what is about to happen. In a nutshell, I’ll say what the database is advising first, and then I’ll tell you why it is imperative that we do so.”

He cleared his throat. I hope I don’t sound as scared as I am, he thought. I don’t know which I am more afraid of-the Council or the warning?

“My lords, “Incognito, in this case, is an alarm system that none of us had any idea was in the database. It is obviously from Aivas, although he is no longer communicating. But we know that Aivas is still in the database somewhere, allowing us to blunder about without his managing. We also know that he, well, it, no, he, is capable of defending himself, itself, oh, dear, you know who I mean, he responds to attacks,” he said, nervously.

“There has been no attack on the database, but the alarm is real and we are taking it seriously. What this warning means is that the Yokohama– and all that she controls: the satellite transmissions, datalink transmissions, the scans for asteroids, the daily pings we make for information of all sorts, like volcanic activity and weather forecasts, all that, it means-and we’re still really only now figuring it out, but what it means is that the Yokohama is going to shut down operations in twenty four hours.”

I’m running on, he thought, I sound like a blithering idiot. But I’m scared.

The audience gasped. Many of them moaned.

“For…forever?” someone called out, her voice quavering.

The Council’s reactions were identical: dismay. How quickly we’ve come to depend on datalinks, the computers, the starship herself, Lord D’nis thought. It will mean, going back to what we were before Aivas introduced computers and his vast store of knowledge. No more electronic  communications and knowing to stay out of the sky when there’s a chance of lightning.

Maybe, he thought, this won’t be a bad thing.

Fear ran through everyone’s spines at the thought. No Yokohama meant no satellite views, no datalink communications, nothing. It would be as if electronic communication and computers had never existed.

Jansen felt her whole body go cold. Forever? What will I do without my job? This is my home. I don’t want to leave.

Data sighed, relieved. “That’s the first thing we asked. Yoko said, no. Not forever. Maybe a month.  Mind you, we’re as sideswiped as you are, we’re still digging out precisely what it means. But, based on what it knows about the situation, will be out for about a month. Going incognito is her way of protecting herself, and, by extension, Pern itself, our civilization, our world, from attack.”

“Attack? From space?” Lord Cecilia asked. “That’s the only venue I can think of.”

“Yes, my lord, from space. As far as we can tell, because the Yokohama can’t identify it yet, she’s detected something coming right at us with  astonishing speed.”

“Not another asteroid!!” a man shouted, more of an accusation than a question.

“No. At least she isn’t saying it’s an asteroid, as I just said, she sees it but can’t identify it yet. And while I was just a kid and far from any coastline,  the fireball that hit Pern came in from high up in the sky, above the ecliptic. The Yokohama saw it, too and predicted to the moment when it would hit. My apologies for not knowing if that’s the right word, I’m not an astronomer.  

Yokohama and the weyrs scan the skies, the starship does it every day, every hour, for incoming asteroids.  It’s why she saw it as soon as she did. At this moment, she’s reporting it as an “incoming anomaly.” What’s odd, and I believe it’s part of the warning, is she is NOT pinging it to find out what it is. She’s also using the two telescopes on Western Continent to triangulate where and what it is.”

“Well, if it is an asteroid, does Yoko give us a timeline of when it hits?”

“I don’t know if it is an asteroid, yet,” Data said, now even more nervous. I hate doing this, there’s always some lout who doesn’t listen and hits me with questions I just answered. I’d rather be sitting going through the most boring database rather than fielding questions I haven’t even thought of myself yet.

“She’s indicated that she will be shutting down for ‘about a month’,” a disembodied voice said, “meaning we have that amount of time to prepare.”

Data smiled, shooting his unseen projectionist a grateful look. She’s my right arm at times, he though.

“I would agree,” he said, his nerves slowing, “The warning hit us, what, half an hour ago?”

“So, Data, what DO you know?” asked the same man, in just barely civil tones. “Don’t you think you should have come in later with more information? You’re scaring us half to death.”

The tone of the man strengthened the chief’s nerve. Sharpshooting jerks I can handle.

“The longer I would have waited, the less time all of us will have to prepare,” he said to his heckler.

“Personally,” someone said from behind the man, “I appreciate being told this early. Now my team will have time to manage this shutdown.”

A murmur of voices agreed with him. Data gave the person a thumb’s up.

“I know that Yoko has determined that it’s enough of a threat, to her AND us, to shut down. WHY, I don’t know, yet, but I do know two things: it’s big and it’s fast. It’s coming straight at us at full gallop.”

“Is it a comet?”

Oh, please, not a guessing game, the chief thought, I have information to pass on and once again, a few people have to nitpick their way to understanding.

His rescuer came from out of the back.

“It’s not a comet,” the elderly man said. K’ndar turned, recognizing the voice as that of Rahman, the Master Astronomer. I had no idea he was back from Western Continent, he thought. His heart warmed. What a wonderful teacher you have been.

“My lords, may I approach the bench?” Rahman said, and without waiting for the expected “of course,” he made his way to the podium. He bowed deeply to the Council, then turned to face the audience.  Data gratefully moved behind him, glad to be out of the firing zone.

“I am Rahman, Master Astronomer for Pern,” he said, although most people knew him.

“As Data mentioned, Yokohama is tied in to my two telescopes on Western continent. She alerted me late last week to this ‘’thing’’ approaching Pern. At first, I thought it might be a rogue planet or a runaway brown dwarf star, mostly due to its speed.”

“What’s a runaway brown dwarf star?” someone asked.

Lord Cecilia raised her hand to quell the question. “Please. Hold all questions for now, as we do have a full slate of petitions to handle today. I remember Master Rahman drilling constellations into my totally disinterested head when I was just a boy crazy lass. When you encourage Master Rahman to talk about the stars, he’ll talk your hind leg off.”

Rahman turned, smiling, and bowed low to her, as the audience roared.

“You know me well, my lord, and were a better student than you give yourself credit for,” he said. Then he turned back.

“Our librarian, Master Elene, can help you research runaway stars and rogue planets. For now, though, as the Council has implied, we all have a lot of work to do in the next twenty four hours before shutdown. Because I promise you, Yoko will keep her shutdown date to the millisecond. So, allow me to explain a little, then we all need to get to work.”

He took a deep breath.

“As I said, Yokohama alerted me last week about this fast approaching ‘thing’. On first reflection, I believed it to be, as you all did, that it is an asteroid. But it’s not. It’s not moving like an asteroid, which normally tumble and spin, and as they approach a star, begin emitting gasses. Nor is it a rogue planet. Several days of historical observations see it coming fast, straight and true. And I do mean fast. It’s astonishing.”

““How fast?”

The projectionist was three thinks ahead of her audience. Numbers flashed on the screen.

The audience gasped.

“What? Does that say ‘over three hundred and ten THOUSAND kilometers per hour?”

“For now, yes, over three hundred ten thousand kilometers per hour,” the woman’s disembodied voice said, “That’s a rough estimate. Yoko will nail it down as it gets closer.”

“Impossible!” shouted the same man who’d dogged, Data. He jumped to his feet, victorious in finding an error in snooty Data’s math. “You’re wrong, that’s faster than light speed!”

For one long moment, there was shocked silence, then people began to giggle.  

Rahman pinned the man’s eyes. Then, sighing, he shook his head, ruefully.

“Sir, apparently, you slept during science class. Light speed is three hundred thousand kilometers per second. This thing is dawdling in comparison,” he said, scornfully.

There wasn’t a sound for three heartbeats.

“Oh. I knew that,” said the man, flushing as he plopped down onto his chair.  

The audience laughed, releasing some of the fear and anxiety. Which Rahman promptly restored.

“Will it hit us?” someone asked.

“I don’t know. It’s so far out right now, but as I said, it’s closing the gap with frightening speed.”

“The fireball hit us,” someone argued.

“Aye-and it was from our very own system’s asteroid belt. Nor did it come so fast. And, as Data said, it came from above our heads, not on the ecliptic.”

He saw them beginning to comprehend.

“Think of it. The universe is so big, so infinitely big, it’s been expanding for millions of years. At last count, there are over two TRILLION galaxies, and those are just the ones we can see. Our galaxy alone has over three hundred BILLION stars, and a thousand times more in planets, and a thousand million times more in asteroids. And yet, out of all that room, this thing is coming right at us, as if we’re it’s target.

Which I am convinced we are. Think of it.  What are the chances an asteroid, a rogue planet or star would choose this precise trajectory, out of an infinite number of alternate directions? What are the chances? I’m not a gambler. The chance of it being random is ZERO.”

Finally, one woman’s voice broke the awful silence.

“It’s someone, isn’t it. Someone is coming here,” she said, her voice quavering.

“No, not the Nathi, please, no,” someone moaned in barely contained terror.

“More colonists from Earth?”

Rahman shook his head.

“Not the Nathi. They were defeated only because of our alliance with Vulcan. Not Terran colonists, Earth never was able to build anything more sophisticated than a lunar cargo transport. Remember, Yokohama and her sister ships were Nathi built, and were relatively small.

He paused for a moment.

“This thing coming at us is a starship, one of stupendous proportions, and at a speed that suggest a technology that even the Vulcans never acquired.

I fear, I fear that it knows we’re out here somewhere, and it’s coming to find us.”