“But those talks weren’t about me. Sure, I had a crush on Tommy Wallace . . . a boy in the next grade, shy, cute, and totally nova.”
“I remember you chatting about Tommy and being quite taken with him.”
“Yeah, well, I used him as an excuse to understand you better. Esther too.”
Kate’s stomach flipped. Mary was remarkably bright, kicked ass at everything she put her mind to, and no one got into the Space Internship Program without serious ability and high scores on the Aptitudes. But this was peculiar. Only now did she realize the depth of Mary’s latent intelligence and photographic memory.
That’s why Marshall Whitt pursued her for his new Spacer program back then.
When she spoke, it was barely a whisper. “So, all this time when you asked about boys and dating and such, you wanted to test me, and Esther too?”
“That’s about right.”
“Shit.”
Mary shook her head. “It’s nothing, really. I learned years ago how to find answers to every question I had: the Calnet, of course, and my dad knows a lot of stuff too even though he’s old. So, yeah.” She leaned over and patted her arm. “That’s why I’m pretty sure Dad like felt something for you, but Janet’s ghost kept getting in the way. Esther was a diversion of sorts.”
The sides of the habitat closed in on her. The panic that began as a distant shadow had become one of those compactors that squeezes in closer and closer until, at some point, it crushes the life out of you. She was an old piece of machinery waiting to be ground into a cube.
“Can we get back on track, Mary? I can’t process this talk and honestly, I hate where it’s heading. So, putting that aside, what will Jim do next?”
The smile never left Mary’s face. “My guess is he’ll tell Esther. For a few reasons. First, she’s responsible for getting me the internship here, and he worries way too much about me. Second, he’ll need to talk to someone, and he trusts her. Third, he’ll want to figure out what she knows.”
“I don’t think she has a clue about this ship.”
“But he doesn’t know that.”
Kate clenched her teeth. “Yeah, telling him was a huge mistake.”
“No, not a mistake, Kate. He’ll overreact, then chat with Esther, and she’ll calm him down. I’m not worried about Dad at all.” She lowered her gaze, and Kate studied her.
“Who are you worried about then?”
Mary considered the question for a moment and leaned in, lowering her voice. “Our biggest concern should be Titanius. They’re already pissing themselves because we haven’t sent any data yet, right? If they find out about the ship, they’ll go neural and crap all over everyone and everything.”
Kate frowned. “True, and that’ll be the end of my work on Luna.”
“And they’ll send me home, too.”
EIGHT
Terran Science Academy
San Francisco
California Congressional Republic
Esther
The spacious, windowless conference room on the third floor of the TSA, down the open hallway from Esther Tyrone’s office, buzzed with activity more so than usual. Representatives from the TSA’s Corporate and Policy, Space Operations, and Search for Extra-terrestrial Life divisions—the latter two under Esther’s leadership—prattled, laughed, and waited for her to bring New York online. A massive screen descended at the far end of the board table, and the lights dimmed as the color bars blinked, followed by an image of a smaller boardroom at Titanius Headquarters. When CEO Clayton Carter appeared on the monitor with his sidekick Ed Mitchell and a scribe, she called the meeting to order.
“Good morning, Clayton, how is the link today?”
Carter gazed up at the camera, showed off his perfect teeth in a wide smile, and boomed in baritone, “Much better, Esther, thanks again for looking into that. Your team is first-rate there. Everything’s crystal clear.”
“Glad to hear it.” She sipped on her coffee. The problem with these cross-continent meetings revolved around food. The East Coasters were awake and sharp at 10:00 their time. Her crew had just arrived and looked half asleep. Advantage Titanius. That’s why she’d been at the office a couple hours already to prepare.
“Clayton, let’s get down to it, shall we? We’ve paid great homage to the protocols of effective negotiations by dancing politely around the maypole defining the scope of what’s on the table.” She stared right into the camera, ignoring the scientists and various corporate bodies in the room. “So . . . can we cut through the niceties and boil this down?”
Carter glanced at his colleague Mitchell, the one with the annoying grin that never disappeared. “I’m listening. How do you wish to proceed?”
Esther twirled her pen in her fingers. She peeked at her notebook and the three key issues she’d sketched out. When negotiations began a few months ago, she understood the impossibility of out-foxing Clayton Carter. He had more experience putting trans-national, private-public agreements together than she had, and his success running a major space resources company proved he knew what he was doing. So, finesse and layering wouldn’t work with him. She preferred an upfront, honest approach anyway, one that emphasized in broad terms what the TSA needed and what they were willing to give up or share in return. If they could not reach an agreement, so be it.
“Sorry, Esther, are we still connected?”
She peered up at the screen and smiled. “Yes, but stand by for a second.” Time to make her play. She punched the mute button on the microphone and looked around the conference room at the mix of confused and sleepy faces. Mark Jefferson’s eyes met hers and held them. He sat straight up, alert, and loyal. He also knew the history first hand when the former head of Space Ops, Marshall Whitt, died at Mount Sutro and she took over the division. Mark had been there as a grad student, had worked on the Ross 128 signal, and most importantly, had kept his mouth shut about it all.
“Dr. Jefferson, you stay. Everyone else out.” The group froze in silence, staring at her. “Now, ladies and gentlemen.”
They hauled themselves up and grumbled out of the room. Lizzy from Finance, holding her notebook against her chest, said, “I don’t advise doing this, Dr. Tyrone. Dr. Kapoor wants me in the negotiations.”
Esther raised her eyebrows and sighed through her teeth. “I promise, I won’t be giving away the farm, so the Big Boss has nothing to fear. No numbers, okay?”
Lizzy slid around the end of the table, scowling, and left.
“Mark, come sit beside me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The lanky scientist climbed out of his chair at the back and took the one next to hers.
Esther adjusted the camera angle to focus in on the two of them, then opened the microphone. “That’s better. If we’re going to do this, it’ll be me and you doing it together. Not a bunch of pointy-headed bureaucrats and underlings, agreed?”
Clayton smiled and opened his arms wide. “By all means. I’m thrilled to talk this way. Seeing all those scientists and engineers around your table is a bit intimidating.”
He understood how to play the game, and it was on. “Well that’s difficult to believe. No one achieves what you have without courage and confidence.”
He grinned. Mitchell whispered something in his ear.
“Esther, unlike a diplomat, I have no patience and I suspect you don’t either. We both want to work more intimately together, correct?”
“True.”
“So, it’s no surprise we’d like access to your research in space science, and share your group’s innovative tech, develop it, and apply it to further our mineral resources exploration program in the solar system.”
Esther mused to herself, nothing new yet, but I smell an end game here, somewhere. “That’s the impression I got from the last two days chatting about how we might team up and to what extent we’d be in bed together, so to speak. We’re not interested so much in resource exploration, but we are looking for a dance partner.”
“Good, and if
I may, I understand you need something from us, too. Specifically, access to our fleet to further your space objectives . . . hunting for aliens and such, correct?” Even across the continent, Carter’s dark brown eyes pierced into her. He was skilled asking questions to which he already had the answers. She was glad that Mark sat beside her, scribbling notes.
“Yes, that’s right. The search for alien life is part of my mandate, and we simply don’t have the operational capacity to take it off-planet where we need to be.” She drained the last of her coffee. “But there’s more. Something I haven’t talked about yet.”
“Oh?” Carter leaned forward toward the camera, fingers interlaced together.
“The cold war between the NDU and the Confederate States affects us both in different ways. I’ll be honest with you, Clayton, and I expect the same courtesy in return.” He nodded. “I am concerned about internal security here at the TSA, and I wonder how we might initiate a space exploration program without worrying about hostile nations or corporations, or any other rogue group out there.”
“Are you anxious about anyone in particular?”
Esther pursed her lips. “No, but we’ve had spies of all stripes in our organization over the years, and it’s a real problem. The need for security around our research is paramount.” She locked eyes with him. “I want to be certain I can trust you to keep our work together out of the hands of those who would harm us.”
“You mean the Chinese?”
“Possibly, but there’s a greater danger here at home. I just haven’t figured out who it is yet.”
Carter leaned back. “I see.” He threw a cursory glance at Mitchell, almost imperceptibly, but she caught it. The game, indeed, was on.
“Esther, would this have anything to do with that Rossian signal?”
And there it was, exposed. He’d picked up the rock and peeked underneath it. She’d made the right decision kicking everyone else out. Only she and Mark understood the details of the tap code that Jim Atteberry discovered floating through the subspace bands one night all those years ago. Mark and Marshall Whitt undertook some off-the-record early communication attempts with the ship in the Ross 128 system with limited success. After the investigation into the incident, she purged all the files associated with Ross 128 and, over time, the alien voice from beyond grew into just another rumor, one more false alarm, a dead end, a breadcrumb for the conspiracy theorists.
But Esther understood Carter was no fool, and there he beamed innocently on the other side of the continent, his dark skin and cold eyes radiating confidence.
“What have you heard about that, Clayton?” Her voice sounded stronger, louder than she had wanted.
“Nothing more than anyone else. Only the rumors, like how it was a false signal. But somewhere in there, that damn tower collapsed in a heap, wiping out the only subspace transmitter on Earth, and nothing’s been built to replace it. Curious, no?”
“What are you saying?” Esther looked at him nervously.
His face grew serious, the smile disappearing. The game shifted to another level and intensified. “Only this. If the Rossian alien encounter was real, and you know where they are, I want to help you. Titanius has the fleet and the resources to provide, er, security if you ever feel compelled to share the aliens with the world. We can take you where you need to go.”
“And in return? What’s in it for you, hypothetically speaking.”
“What I covet is access to their faster-than-light technology. Nothing more.”
Mark looked over at her and pointed to his notebook. He’d written a series of giant exclamation marks over it. She nodded.
“Very interesting, Clayton, and perhaps something we could discuss further, in time. Unfortunately, there was no real alien signal.”
The silence over the connection lasted several seconds, neither one saying anything, both staring hard at each other waiting for the other to blink, but Esther could hear nervous breathing over the line. Finally, she said, “Clayton, perhaps you and I should arrange a couple of private conversations. Just you and me. Would that be helpful?”
His eyes narrowed. The smile suddenly reappeared and his teeth flashed again. “Splendid idea, yes! Let’s do that.”
Her indie-comm vibrated, and she glanced down at it. Yet another urgent message from Jim Atteberry. She made a mental note to call him once the meeting with Titanius finished.
Atteberry
Over 24 hours had passed since the off-network call. He trusted Kate more than anyone else in the world to look after Mary and keep her best interests at heart. If she said they’re all fine and that there’s no danger from the alien ship, then he should accept that.
Except he couldn’t. Atteberry paced around his dusty office at the City College Oceanside campus, pausing once or twice to check his indie-comm. The uncertainty of Mary’s situation on the Moon gnawed away at his gut to the point where he failed to get any work done on his new literary paper. Summers were cruel that way, when his English classes were over but the weather and family made it challenging to start the academic research. The call presented another complication.
Esther lack of response to his messages was frustrating. It seemed as if the universe conspired against him, leaving him in the dark with only his prehistoric brain and imagination for company. He had to speak with her, with someone about that Rossian ship and what he’d heard six years ago on the amateur astronomy subspace bands.
A soft rap on his door interrupted him. Helen, the Native American Lit prof from down the hall, smiled at him over her reading glasses. “Deep in thought, Jim?”
He brushed the hair back off his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Yeah, having trouble concentrating today. Must be the nice weather.”
“I understand.” She leaned her thin frame against the door jamb, the cotton floral dress hugging her. “You look bagged. Want to take a break and grab a coffee?”
Jim checked the time on his indie-comm and glanced back at his computer console surrounded by file folders and a stack of worn books from the library. A part of him wanted to go with her, tell her about the Ross 128 signal and Kate’s call, but he suppressed that and instead, nodded toward his desk. “I’d better not. This mess won’t resolve itself on its own. Thanks anyway.”
“Maybe tomorrow?”
“Sure, sure, sounds good.”
Helen smiled and continued down the hall, her summer sandals clipping along the marble floor. Jim parked himself in front of his computer for a moment and stared at the screen, then got up and paced around again, the uncertainty and his own indecisiveness killing him.
When the indie-comm pinged, he almost jumped out of his skin. A message from Esther: meet me at Grinders 3:00? He messaged back: see you there . . . thanks.
Atteberry couldn’t recall the last time he saw her, but it might have been over the Christmas holidays. Cool and dark days, he remembered that. When she entered Grinders Coffee Shop and peered around, his heart leapt. He waved, and she caught his eye and smiled.
An autoserver cruised by their table and they pulled their drinks. Esther took a protein bar as well, managed a bite, and said, “Remember the first time we came here, Jim? You looked like you hadn’t slept in days!” She laughed.
“Yeah, because I hadn’t. That alien signal consumed me.” He sipped his coffee and grimaced at the bitter flavour.
“I’ve blocked out a lot of what happened, especially from the night at Mount Sutro. I do remember leaving the TSA with you and Kate and one of the CalRep soldiers, but it’s a blur after that.” She took another bite. “Just as well, I suppose.”
Atteberry leaned over the small table toward her. “I remember everything.” He stared at a spot of cream on the tabletop, paused, then looked up. “What happened between us, Esther? Seems like everything changed after that night.”
Esther’s smile disappeared, and her grey eyes bore into his. Atteberry said the wrong thing, but that was often the case with her. She was difficult to read.
“My ex-wife?”
“You were only separated, if I recall.”
He struggled to find the words, and she’d rendered him tongue-tied with the ex-wife comment. No question, he’d felt something for Janet at the time and in those moments of honesty with himself, realized that in a corner of his life, he still loved her. For him, love was not binary: it was a continuum.
Esther continued. “We also both recognize that even though you divorced her, it didn’t really change your heart, did it?”
Atteberry reflected on the evening he signed the divorce agreement and the overwhelming emptiness that smothered him. In truth, he hoped there’d be a sense of relief, the dawn of a new day, a new relationship with Esther. It never happened.
“You’re probably right.”
“Anyway,” she interrupted, “let’s not relive those days again. It took a lot of time and effort to recover from you and the death of Marshall Whitt, and I’m not convinced I’m fully healed.” She sipped the coffee, staring at him over the cup, and smiled. “So, what’s on your mind, Jim? What’s with all the urgent messages?”
Atteberry glanced around the shop, trying to curtail the paranoia that was as much a part of him these days as was his shadow. Grinders was only half-full at this time of the afternoon, with a couple of tables chatting, a young man reading by the window, and an older lady doing a crossword puzzle. He leaned in closer.
“I got a message from Kate yesterday . . . well, from Mary too.”
“Oh? How’s everything up there on Luna? Is she having fun?”
Echoes In The Grey Page 6
