“Thanks, Jack.”
“Something I can’t resist telling you. My boss is in step with the president on this. He didn’t like my bringing you in to defend interstellar travel. He thinks it’s a crazy idea.”
“You mean Harold Billings?”
“Yes.”
“So, why’d he allow it?”
“Ratings. You come on the show and the viewers go through the roof.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I never kid, Priscilla. I shouldn’t be telling you this, and if it goes any farther, I’ll deny it. He had a hard time giving us a go-ahead. But at heart he’s a good guy and he did the right thing. Next time, though, we should probably change the subject.”
THE WORLD REVIEW
Wednesday, February 13, 2256
We’ve come a long way. A century ago famine was a global problem of monumental dimensions. Population continued to increase throughout the underdeveloped world; regional violence, spurred by desperation, and whatever political or religious differences that extremists could exploit, occurred with stunning regularity; and armies of people, fleeing lethal conditions, were beginning to destabilize China, Japan, Russia, and the Western world.
Next week, on February 26, we will celebrate the one hundredth anniversary of the launch of the Gehringer Project. Ahmad Gehringer spent his early years in desperate circumstances, but he has emerged as one of the great leaders of the twenty-third century. He understood that, in order to build a more reasonable world, we needed to find a way to eliminate famine, to replace ideology with open minds, to control the growth of world population, to prevent unfettered capitalism from wrecking the world. And to make liberal education possible around the planet. Not until people could question not only local dogma but also their own beliefs, and accept the possibility they may be wrong about some issues, not until we learn to consider whether someone else may have a valid point even when it conflicts with our own perspective, only when we reach that day can we hope for a peaceful planet.
Gehringer was confronted by a world that believed a widespread liberal education impossible. The notion of world peace was a joke. He argued that until we made the effort, we could not hope that people would put the guns down. That maybe it was impossible, but that we wouldn’t know unless we tried. In his celebrated Berlin address in 2247, he argued that the general notion that the problems are not curable was poisoning us. If that was true, he said, all the advances of the previous century would prove short-lived. Extended life spans were futile; interstellar vehicles, once thought to be impossible, would be of no value even if they were developed. Communication technologies, artificial gravity, and modern energy production would not save us. Ironically, he pointed out, the conquest of disease in virtually all its forms, and the reversal of the aging process, which was then just on the horizon, had become part of the crisis.
There is no question, Gehringer said, that undeveloped areas desperately needed food shipments. And clean water. The stark reality was that they also needed open minds. Let us, on this happy anniversary, be aware that we also needed Ahmad Gehringer.
3.
O pilot! ’tis a fearful night,
There’s danger on the deep.
—T. H. Bayly, “The Pilot,” 1844
The Calliope transmission was all over the media. Hutch sat in her Woodbridge, Virginia, home watching it play again and again. The accompanying rhythm was perfect, capturing precisely the mood of a waterfall high in a mountain chain. The entire clip ran for just forty-seven seconds. It didn’t feel like something she’d have expected from aliens. The music was precisely what she would have selected. The signal had bounced in from somewhere, and she had no doubt we’d figure it out, given a little time.
Jack Crispee’s guest was Lauren Millani. Hutch had heard of her. She was a physicist, had won a couple of prizes, and Jack considered her an expert on the Hynds radiotelescope, or possibly on alien life forms. She’d tuned in late and Millani’s specialty never quite became clear. Millani did not share the idea that the transmission had originated from a human source. “It’s possible,” she said, “that we just intercepted an errant signal from a station or a ship somewhere. But I don’t think it’s likely. It almost had to originate from something orbiting that star—what did they call it? Calliope? I would have thought they’d be able to come up with a less flamboyant name. Just look at it, Jack.” It was playing onscreen, the water pouring into the canyon. “The waterfall’s not terrestrial, and nobody’s been able to identify the vegetation. You ever see anything like those long stalks before?” She was referring to a pair of oddly shaped trees on either side of the falls. “This is very big news, Jack. What we need to do is get a mission together and go out there and see what’s going on.”
“Do you think that’s likely to happen, Lauren?”
“No. If we’re dumb enough to reelect Proctor and she really does shut down the interstellars, twenty years from now we’ll still be wondering what it was about.”
• • •
“She’s good,” said Charlie. “She’s got it right. Some of these people who want to shut everything down need to get off their rear ends and go take a look around.”
“You’re right, kid. She’s on point.”
He still hadn’t calmed down from the Saturn trip. “I wish we had rings. Maybe we’d be a little more realistic about deep space travel.” He sounded as if he could no longer take seriously anybody who hadn’t gotten out past the atmosphere.
“It’s the way we are, son. You might as well get used to it.”
“It’s not the way you are. Or the way Dad was.” Charlie was about an inch taller than his mother. He had his father’s wide shoulders. “Why were you guys so different from everybody else, Mom?”
“We were not that different. I suspect we just got lucky. Your father used to claim he got started because he read a lot of science fiction. My dad worked for SETI, and I guess I caught the bug from him.” She glanced at the notebook. “Did you get the assignment done?”
“Yes.” It had been an essay for his history class. If given an opportunity to meet and talk with a historical character, who would he choose? And why?
“Who’d you pick?”
“George Washington.”
“Why?”
“Are you kidding, Mom? He’s the most important person in the country’s history.”
“Okay.”
“You sound as if you think that’s a dull choice.”
“No. It’s good.”
“Who would you have gone with?”
“The Iapetus angel. The sculptor.”
“I guess that’s not a big surprise.”
She looked up at the time. “It’s getting a bit late.”
“On my way.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the door.
She watched him go. He wanted to follow her career path. But it probably wasn’t going to happen. Not that the interstellars could be shut down permanently. Eventually, she thought, we’ll have to leave the planet and move out. But it will probably take too long to come to our senses. By then, Charlie might have to settle for a career as an architect. Or a journalist. She smiled, recalling her mom’s efforts to talk her into a more rational course than the one she’d been bent on pursuing. Become a lawyer, she’d advised. Or maybe get into real estate. That was where the money was.
• • •
She wandered into her office. The wind was moving tree branches back and forth. She read for a half hour, and then turned on the news. Melinda Allen, a friend and associate, was scheduled as a guest on Cosmic Broadcasting’s The Morning Show. Melinda was the director of astrophysics at the American Museum of Natural History.
“—your take on all this?” the moderator asked.
“It’s much too early to make a call,” Melinda said. She seemed amused at the excitement the sighting had caused. But that was typical. She was the ultimate cynic. “There’s still a possibility that the whole thing is just a glit
ch in the telescope.”
“That doesn’t seem likely, does it?”
“I can’t think of a good explanation that sounds likely, Marvin. Look, we’ve seen things before that we thought were evidence of an advanced civilization, but they don’t usually amount to much. One thing we’re learning about the universe: Intelligence is rare. And when it does show up, it turns out not to be good at survival.”
Cosmic went to commercial. When the show came back, Melinda had been replaced by the campaign director for one of the presidential candidates.
• • •
Her daughter, Maureen, called. “I thought with that waterfall in the news you’d be back on TV this morning. I haven’t missed anything, have I?”
“No. How are the classes going?” She was in her first year as a high school history teacher.
“It’s a challenge.”
“Why?”
“We’re doing the Civil War, and it’s taken us back to talking again about the Founding Fathers. Nobody can understand all the talk about freedom from people who owned slaves.”
“It was a different culture. I think most of them would have gotten rid of the slavery issue if they thought they could do it and still hold the union together. I suspect you’ve been a bit critical of them.”
“It’s hard not to be.”
“You might want to cut them some slack. They were trying to put a country together.”
They talked for a couple of minutes before she saw an incoming call from Derek Blanchard. The guy who was connected with the Calliope sighting. Holy cats. She could only think of one reason he’d be calling. “Gotta go, Maureen,” she said. “I’ll get back to you.” She switched over. “Hello, Professor Blanchard. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, Ms. Hutchins. I’ve wanted for a long time to find an excuse to meet you. You’ve been a singular asset for the WSA. I assume you’re aware of what’s been happening? The waterfall?”
“Sure. You have any information that hasn’t been released?”
“No, we’ve put it all out there. But I’d like very much to talk with you. If you’re free this evening, I wonder if I could stop by and say hello.”
“Sure. What time’s good?”
“How about eight o’clock?”
“I’ll be here.”
Blanchard was a major figure, an astrophysicist who’d been near the forefront of half a dozen breakthrough discoveries. He’d written thirteen books on various aspects of cosmology and astrophysics, had been science advisor to President Crandall, and was a consultant for the World Space Authority.
She looked up at the framed photo of the Iapetus angel that dominated the wall over her printer. “Here we go, kid.”
• • •
Blanchard arrived precisely on time, with a smile and a bottle of champagne. She’d seen him once before, at an Academy conference. He’d been one of the people who had tried to salvage the Academy when it was going under. But the political forces were too strong.
“Hello, Priscilla. I doubt if you remember me, but we met a few years ago.”
“I remember, Professor Blanchard. Please come in.” He gave her the champagne. She led him to an armchair and sat down on the sofa. “It’s good to see you again. What can I do for you?”
“Priscilla, please call me Derek. We need your help.”
“The WSA?”
“Of course.” If there’d been any doubt about the purpose for Derek’s visit, it went away. He looked down at the champagne. “Look, before we get into this, how about a drink?”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
She carried the champagne into the kitchen, opened it, and poured two glasses. Her trip to the galactic center the previous year had been the first actual mission performed with the Locarno drive. It had a capability to cover almost 286 light-years in a day. So travel time tended to be short. At least, shorter than it used to be. But there was a downside: The transdimensional world through which the ships had to pass was absolutely without light. There was no sense of movement by the vehicle. If he was going to extend an invitation to head out for Calliope, which seemed the only reasonable purpose for his visit, she’d be stuck inside the thing for almost the better part of a month with nothing to do but watch movies and read. That would get old pretty quickly. She sighed, took the glasses back into the living room, and handed one to Derek.
He raised it and smiled. “To the world’s best interstellar pilot,” he said.
Hutch allowed her discomfort to show. She touched his glass with her own, thanked him, and sipped the champagne. It was dry, with a slightly sour touch and a lot of bubbles. He’d spent some money on it. “So, what can I do for you, Derek?” she asked.
“I’m sure you know that the Barry Eiferman is out on a mission, but we expect it back in a few days. We’ll need a little time to service it, and then we’re going to turn it around.”
“You’re sending it out to look for the source of the waterfall?”
“Yes. We want you to be its captain.” He glanced around the room. At pictures of her and Tor seated on the Memphis bridge. At pictures of Maureen at her college graduation and Charlie in a baseball uniform. “We’ll make it worth your while.”
“How much?”
“Three hundred thousand.”
She tried not to let her surprise show. She’d never received anything remotely like that before. A sudden burst of wind rattled the windows. “They’re expecting snow tonight,” she said. Then: “When will it be leaving?”
“In a couple of weeks. Can we count on you? You’re our first choice. We need somebody who’s had experience with the Locarno.”
“Derek, you have other people who’ve operated with it.”
“Yes. We have. But it’s more than that. You’ve had a few tricky encounters and come through them in pretty good shape. We have no idea what’s out there at Calliope.” He paused. “We need someone with a history of making the right calls under pressure.”
“What actually would be the objective? Just find out what’s there and come home?”
“That’s it. Go take a look. We’d like to know whether there’s an advanced civilization out there. Define advanced as anything with offworld technology. Considering that they had a pretty strong beam seven thousand years ago, we’re expecting that they’ll be far down the road by now. If there are some radio signals, we’ll try to intercept them. Record them, of course. But we’ll keep our distance. We do not want to make contact. Not with a civilization that’s thousands of years ahead of us. If we get any sense that they’ve figured out we’re there, we clear out. We want to make sure they don’t follow us back here.”
“You’re going along?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss this.”
“How do we make sure they don’t follow us home? We’ve assumed that nobody can track a ship in transdimensional space, but we don’t really know that.”
“We’re working on it.” He finished off his champagne and reached for the bottle. “Want more?”
They refilled both glasses. Okay. Hutch was interested in making the flight. And the money was far more than she’d make going around talking at luncheons. But it would mean a lot of time again away from Maureen and Charlie. “This place is seven thousand light-years out,” she said. “So we’re talking almost a month to get there.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I know this is kind of sudden.”
“Why such a hurry?”
“You know the politics. There are a lot of people who think the mission is not a good idea. We want to get moving before somebody can shut us down.”
“Can you give me a couple of days to think it over?”
“Sure. How’s Monday sound?”
“All right.”
“Priscilla?”
“Yes, Derek?”
“We need you on this.”
• • •
Chances were that the news she’d been offered the assignment would get out, and she didn’t want her mother to hear about i
t before Hutch could let her know. Mom still lived in Hutch’s childhood home in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. She called within minutes after Derek had left. “Hi, Priscilla,” she said. “Everything okay? You sound a bit tense.”
“I just had a visitor, Mom. You been watching the news?”
“You mean those crazy people who blew up that dam in Colorado?”
“Not exactly.”
“I hope you’re not going to tell me they want you to go out to that place with the waterfall.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what’s happening.”
“You’re not going to do it, are you? Or am I being naïve?”
“It’s hard to turn down, Mom.”
“You don’t spend a lot of time with your kids.”
“They’re adults now.”
“How long? I mean, how long will you be gone?”
“A couple of months.”
“Wonderful. I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you that, since nobody knows what’s out there, it could be dangerous?”
“We’ll be careful. In fact, they’re telling us to take no chances. If there’s actually somebody there, we won’t be going anywhere near them. We’ll just take a look and come home.”
“Answer a question for me, Priscilla: Don’t they have any other pilots? Why are they coming to you again?”
“Probably because I have the most experience with the drive unit. You don’t need to worry, Mom. We won’t take any chances.”
“I hope so, Priscilla.”
• • •
The kids weren’t exactly excited about the prospect of her leaving again either. Charlie pointed out that she’d miss Left at the Altar, the comedy at Washington University in which he would be playing a supporting character. And Maureen reminded her that she’d promised to talk to a couple of her classes. “When you get out there, you’re probably going to stay awhile, right?”
“Long enough to look around. I doubt we’ll stay much more than that.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do this.”
“I’ll be fine, Maureen.”
“Be careful, okay?”
“Of course.”
The Long Sunset Page 3
