Observer Effect somehow makes it impossible for them to perform temporal displacement on whatever planet is the scene of their operations? Or—which somehow seems more likely—it’s impractical for them to build a displacer on that planet in the present? The solution would be obvious: find a planet like this one, that isn’t and never has been inhabited—let’s call it ‘Planet A’—and build a displacer large enough to send back interstellar transports, which could then proceed to . . . ‘Planet B.’”
Rojas frowned intently. “But why go to the colossal effort of coming all the way out here to build this displacer? Why not somewhere closer?”
“You don’t fully appreciate the Underground’s obsession with security, Major. They’d want a planet altogether outside the sphere of human exploration, in a worthless system.”
“But,” Mondrago objected, “humans will eventually explore out here. The Transhumanists’ privacy won’t last.”
“Maybe it doesn’t need to last very long,” said Jason slowly. “Remember, we don’t know when The Day is.”
The temperature in the overcrowded control room seemed to drop a few degrees. It was the cloud under which they all lived. The most closely guarded secret of the Transhumanist Underground remained as secret as ever. The moment when all their elaborately laid plans came to catastrophic fruition at once could be tomorrow. It was worse when one was in interstellar space, because for all anyone could prove to the contrary The Day might have already have occurred on Earth. Although, Jason reflected, the fact that this interstellar/transtemporal transshipment operation here on what he decided he must call Planet A was still a going concern indicated that the moment was not quite yet.
“Well,” said Rojas briskly, “be that as it may, we’re now in a position to abort whatever it is they’re doing. We’ll return to Earth with our knowledge of the location of this system, and the Deep-Space Fleet will come here and blast this installation into its component atoms! Or, rather,” she hastily amended, recalling the nightmarish political delays involved whenever the Deep-Space Fleet was called upon to do anything, ”it ought to be possible to do it as an independent IDRF operation—I’ve seen no defenses here.”
“Not so fast,” said Jason. “We still don’t know where this, ah, Planet B is, or how far back in its past they’re operating, or what they’ve done there—or if that operation has already become self-sustaining even if we cut off their supply line here. We can’t leave yet.”
“But we’ve obtained all the information we can.”
“Not by a long sight!” Jason grinned wolfishly. “For one thing, we can deduce how far into the past they’re displacing these ships.”
“How?”
Instead of answering Rojas directly, Jason turned to Tomori. “Your sensors can measure the output of that antimatter reactor, right?”
“Of course.”
“And when we got a sensor lock on their ship, in orbit around Zirankhu, you got a mass reading on it?”
“Yes.”
Jason turned back to Rojas. “There’s your answer, Major. It is a truism that the energy expenditure required for temporal displacement is a function of two factors: the mass being displaced, and how far back in time it’s being sent. The Transhumanists’ displacers are equally subject to this tradeoff, even though their overall energy efficiency is incomparably higher than ours. And now that we’ve been able to study their captured displacer on Earth, we know the energy figures to feed into the equation. Knowing that, and the mass, it’s just a matter of simple substitution to get the temporal ‘distance.’”
“And you know these energy figures?”
“Approximately. I’m no specialist, you understand, but I’ve naturally taken an interest in the subject. If we can observe the displacement of one of these ships, I can tell you roughly how far into the past it’s
Rojas frowned intently. “But why go to the colossal effort of coming all the way out here to build this displacer? Why not somewhere closer?”
“You don’t fully appreciate the Underground’s obsession with security, Major. They’d want a planet altogether outside the sphere of human exploration, in a worthless system.”
“But,” Mondrago objected, “humans will eventually explore out here. The Transhumanists’ privacy won’t last.”
“Maybe it doesn’t need to last very long,” said Jason slowly. “Remember, we don’t know when The Day is.”
The temperature in the overcrowded control room seemed to drop a few degrees. It was the cloud under which they all lived. The most closely guarded secret of the Transhumanist Underground remained as secret as ever. The moment when all their elaborately laid plans came to catastrophic fruition at once could be tomorrow. It was worse when one was in interstellar space, because for all anyone could prove to the contrary The Day might have already have occurred on Earth. Although, Jason reflected, the fact that this interstellar/transtemporal transshipment operation here on what he decided he must call Planet A was still a going concern indicated that the moment was not quite yet.
“Well,” said Rojas briskly, “be that as it may, we’re now in a position to abort whatever it is they’re doing. We’ll return to Earth with our knowledge of the location of this system, and the Deep-Space Fleet will come here and blast this installation into its component atoms! Or, rather,” she hastily amended, recalling the nightmarish political delays involved whenever the Deep-Space Fleet was called upon to do anything, ”it ought to be possible to do it as an independent IDRF operation—I’ve seen no defenses here.”
“Not so fast,” said Jason. “We still don’t know where this, ah, Planet B is, or how far back in its past they’re operating, or what they’ve done there—or if that operation has already become self-sustaining even if we cut off their supply line here. We can’t leave yet.”
“But we’ve obtained all the information we can.”
“Not by a long sight!” Jason grinned wolfishly. “For one thing, we can deduce how far into the past they’re displacing these ships.”
“How?”
Instead of answering Rojas directly, Jason turned to Tomori. “Your sensors can measure the output of that antimatter reactor, right?”
“Of course.”
“And when we got a sensor lock on their ship, in orbit around Zirankhu, you got a mass reading on it?”
“Yes.”
Jason turned back to Rojas. “There’s your answer, Major. It is a truism that the energy expenditure required for temporal displacement is a function of two factors: the mass being displaced, and how far back in time it’s being sent. The Transhumanists’ displacers are equally subject to this tradeoff, even though their overall energy efficiency is incomparably higher than ours. And now that we’ve been able to study their captured displacer on Earth, we know the energy figures to feed into the equation. Knowing that, and the mass, it’s just a matter of simple substitution to get the temporal ‘distance.’”
“And you know these energy figures?”
“Approximately. I’m no specialist, you understand, but I’ve naturally taken an interest in the subject. If we can observe the displacement of one of these ships, I can tell you roughly how far into the past it’s
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