Death's End

“What are the specific requirements?” asked Vadimov. He was the only one who seemed to take Wade’s announcement in stride.

“I’ve consulted with the delegates of the permanent members of the PDC in private, but the idea hasn’t yet been formally presented. Based on what I know, the PDC members are most interested in one specific requirement—and this is something that they won’t compromise on: The probe must achieve one percent of lightspeed. The permanent members of the PDC have different ideas about other parameters, but I’m sure they’ll come to some compromise during formal discussions.”

An expert from NASA spoke up. “Let me get this straight. Given those mission parameters, and supposing we only worry about acceleration and provide no way for the probe to decelerate, the probe will take two to three centuries to reach the Oort Cloud. There, it will intercept and examine the decelerating Trisolaran Fleet. Forgive me, but this seems a project better reserved for the future.”

Wade shook his head. “With those sophons zipping about at lightspeed, spying on us constantly, and completely blocking all fundamental physics research, it’s no longer certain that we’ll make significant technological progress in the future. If humanity is doomed to crawl at a snail’s pace through space, we’d better get started as soon as possible.”

Cheng Xin suspected that Wade’s plan was at least partly motivated by politics. The first effort by humanity to make active contact with an extraterrestrial civilization would enhance the PIA’s status.

“But given the current state of spaceflight technology, it will take twenty, maybe thirty thousand years to reach the Oort Cloud. Even if we launch the probe right now, we won’t have gotten very far from Earth’s front door by the time the Trisolaran Fleet arrives in four hundred years.”

“That is precisely why the probe must achieve one percent of lightspeed.”

“You’re talking about boosting our current maximum speed a hundredfold! That requires a brand-new form of propulsion. We can’t achieve that kind of acceleration with current technology, and there’s no reason to expect a technical breakthrough within the foreseeable future. This proposal is fundamentally impossible.”

Wade slammed his fist down on the table. “You forget that we now have resources! Before, spaceflight was merely a luxury, but now it’s an absolute necessity. We can ask for resources that far exceed what was imaginable before. We can throw resources at this problem until the laws of physics bend. Rely on brute force if you have to, but we must accelerate the probe to one percent of lightspeed!”

Vadimov instinctively looked around the room. Wade glanced at him. “Don’t worry. There are no reporters or outsiders anywhere near here.”

Vadimov laughed. “Please don’t take offense. But saying we want to throw resources at the problem until the laws of physics bend is going to make our agency the laughingstock of the world. Please don’t repeat it in front of the PDC.”

“I already know you’re all laughing at me.”

Everyone held their tongue. The staff just wanted the meeting to be over. Wade looked at everyone in turn, then returned his gaze to Cheng Xin. “No, not everyone. She’s not laughing.” He pointed at her. “Cheng, what do you think?”

Under Wade’s keen gaze, Cheng Xin felt as if he were pointing a sword at her, not a finger. She looked around helplessly. Who was she to talk?

“We need to implement MD here,” said Wade.

Cheng Xin was even more baffled. MD? McDonald’s? Doctor of medicine?

“But you’re Chinese! How can you not know MD?”

Cheng Xin looked at the other five Chinese in the room; they looked just as confused.

“During the Korean War, the Americans discovered that even common Chinese soldiers taken as prisoners seemed to know a lot about their own field strategies. It turned out that your commanders had presented the battle plans to the troops for mass discussion, hoping thereby to find ways to improve them. Of course, if you become Trisolaran prisoners of war in the future, we don’t want you to know that much.”

A few of those present laughed. Cheng Xin finally understood that MD meant “military democracy.” The others in the conference room enthusiastically supported Wade’s proposal. Of course, these elite experts didn’t expect a mere technical aide to have any brilliant ideas, but they were mostly men, and they thought that by giving her a chance to talk, they would have a perfect excuse to appreciate her physical attributes. Cheng Xin had always made an effort to dress conservatively, but this sort of harassment was something she had to deal with constantly.

Cheng Xin began: “I do have an idea—”

“An idea for bending the laws of physics?” The speaker was an older Frenchwoman named Camille, a highly respected and experienced consultant from the European Space Agency. She looked at Cheng Xin contemptuously, as though she didn’t belong in the room.