Neptune Crossing
Page 64
*
They first had to program Napoleon and get him on the job. Then they powered up the long-range comm, to see if they could raise Triton. Bandicut nervously waited as the computer initiated the call and monitored for an answer. At this distance from Neptune, the signal lag was going to be almost half an hour each way. Time had never crawled quite so slowly. After a few minutes of that, Bandicut decided to transmit blind; they didn’t have time for back-and-forth chitchat, anyway. He sent a focused beam to Triton, and a weaker omnidirectional signal as backup. “Triton Orbital, or any other station, this is Neptune Explorer, John Bandicut speaking. I do not know if you are picking up this signal, so I will just say what I have to say, and hope that it gets through.”
He hesitated, clicking his teeth. All his carefully rehearsed speeches had evaporated from his mind. He struggled for words. “I—apologize for the theft of Neptune Explorer. If there had been any other way, I would never—but really, there wasn’t. I guess by now, you all know what I said in my letter to Julie Stone. It was all true. I’m—sorry, Julie, I didn’t mean for it—” His voice caught. This wasn’t coming out right.
He drew a breath.
“To repeat: The reason I took Neptune Explorer is to prevent a . . . catastrophe . . . to Earth. I know that sounds crazy. But you must . . . well, ask exoarch, they know where the alien artifact is. Perhaps you’ve found it by now.”
He squinted, thinking—if that damn translator hides itself, they’ll never believe me. He took another raspy breath. “I just want to be clear. It is through that alien . . . presence . . . part of which is still with me here . . . that I learned of the comet which is on a collision course with Earth. I am on my way to intercept it.”
/// Perhaps if you tell them where you are . . . ///
/Huh? Why?/
/// Could you have gotten here yourself? ///
/Oh./ Bandicut cleared his throat. “My present position—” He leaned to check the nav and read off the numbers. He was almost halfway across the distance between Neptune’s orbit and Uranus’s. “You understand that I could not possibly have traveled this distance using only the fusion drive. If you doubt that I am using a nonhuman technology—” He hesitated. “Oh, Christ, just believe me!” He rocked back in his seat, growling helplessly to himself.
/// It’s not an easy thing to convey. ///
/I had this all worked out in my head! I should have recorded it!/
He sighed and continued: “Please convey the following to Julie Stone, exoarch department, Triton Surface: ‘Julie, I’m sorry I couldn’t have told you sooner. If you find the artifact, you will know that everything I told you is true. If you don’t find it, keep looking. It is capable of . . . hiding. And please believe me. I don’t know what else I can say. You probably all saw me vanish into space like some kind of goddamn holo effect. Maybe you all thought I was dead. Well, I’m not—yet, anyway. I will return—if I can—after Earth is . . . safe. I . . . I lo—, I miss you.’ ” He hesitated, trying to swallow back the lump in his throat. “Unquote,” he muttered. After a moment he added, “Just for the record, Julie Stone had nothing whatever to do with this. She didn’t know.”
He paused again. “Oh, and Julie, could you please pass on everything I’ve told you to my niece, Dakota Bandicut, in Iowa City? Tell her . . . that I am not a criminal, and that I miss her, too. Thanks.” He pondered saying more, and finally croaked, “End transmission.”
Something was tingling in the back of his mind, the quarx’s reaction to something he had said. Even without hearing it, he felt his stomach knotting tighter. /What?/ he muttered.
/// Well . . .
I just want to be honest with you. ///
He waited, words frozen in his throat, in his mind.
The quarx stirred, and he thought he sensed guilt.
/// I don’t really think . . .
that there’s any chance you’ll ever return.
I wish . . . I could say differently.
But I can’t. ///
Bandicut closed his eyes, hard. He couldn’t speak. This was hardly news to him. Except, there had always been a tiny grain of hope remaining.
/// It’s not as if I told you otherwise.
Did I? ///
/No,/ he whispered. /I don’t know. I don’t remember./ He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut harder, but he couldn’t keep the tears from leaking out.
Finally he gave up, wiped his eyes, and got back to work.