I couldn’t save both. There was no way I could manage that. Might not be able to save either.
Make the call.
It had to be Alex. The woman waved at me with her good arm as I passed overhead. I cut to port, positioned myself directly over him, and came down almost on top of him. It was a dangerous maneuver, but I had nothing else. I needed him to grab hold of one of the treads. It was all I could do.
A police voice broke in: “Vamoso, are you crazy? Get out of there.”
I counted to five, thinking how either he was gone, or he was hanging on. Then I started up. We’d picked up some mass, so he was there. I could try the same method with the woman. There was just time, but if Alex was clinging to the treads, I’d almost certainly knock him loose.
But I knew what he’d have wanted.
The current had carried her past me. I came in behind her. The falls was so loud I could barely make out the police voices. “Be careful, Vamoso.”
The water ahead was filled with rocks. I came down above her, got as low as I could. Then the river was gone and I was looking down into that vast chasm. Mist swirled up.
I drifted over a grassy bank and got as low as I could until the extra pressure on the antigravs vanished, signaling he’d let go. Then I pulled up until I could see him. He was stretched out on the shore. On the river, an emergency vehicle was circling the edge of the falls. I landed a few meters from him.
He looked exhausted. “Thanks,” he said.
“I tried to get both of you.”
“I know.” He pulled himself into a sitting position. A police vehicle was coming down near us. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t enough time. I don’t think she could have held on anyhow. It looked as if she’d broken an arm.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
The thing about murder is, it’s so personal. War’s not good either. But in combat, at least, you only get killed because you’ve gotten in the way. Soldiers from opposite sides have even been known to get together after hostilities cease and toast each other. But chances are good that you’ll never raise a glass to someone who’s tried to take you out, you, by name, date of birth, and eye color.
—Racine Vales, Memoirs
“It was a fluxer,” Fenn said. We were in his office.
“A what?” I asked.
“Universal solvent. It was placed on one of the support beams. Held in place by a magnet.”
“What do you carry a universal solvent in?” I asked.
“It gets mixed as it gets sprayed, Chase.”
“I know who’s doing it,” I said.
Both men looked at me in surprise. “Who’s that?” asked Fenn.
“She’s tall, pale, thin. Looks like a mortician. I saw her on the train to Carnaiva, and saw her again the last time I ate at Tardy’s. She was there this morning.”
“You can identify her?”
“Absolutely.”
“All right. Why don’t you look through our files, and we’ll see if we can figure out who she is.”
He turned on a display.
“Before we start,” I said, “I have a question.”
“Sure.”
“The woman who died out there today. Who was she?”
“Her name was Mira Espy. She was twenty.”
Mira hadn’t lived long enough to accomplish much. She looked good, and she enjoyed parties. She was in school, and had a part-time job as a medical receptionist. Judging from the turnout at the memorial service, she had a lot of friends.
The Mortician was Petra Salyeva. She’d been denied a physics doctorate after threatening the life of a young man who hadn’t paid sufficient attention to her. Doctors had diagnosed her with Kalper’s Disease, which severely limits the ability to experience empathy. Authorities were contemplating a mind wipe, but she disappeared while they debated. She was a killer for hire. Current whereabouts unknown. Though not anymore.
She was, by the way, a pilot, although her license had been revoked.
“You’re sure that’s her?” Fenn asked.
“No question.”
“Okay. She’s good at what she does. So we’ll have to assign a security detail. Until we can lock her down.”
So I acquired a guard. Her name was Rhonda.
Entries in the Rainbow Cosmic Tour Contest began to come in, at first occasionally, but by the end of the week, we had more than six hundred, encompassing both stills and holograms, and even an audio that was simply a record of a conversation between a young girl, probably about nine, and a ship’s captain. It was from Barkley Tours, six years ago, and its description of the child’s admiration for the soft glow of a moon illuminated by a blue star was touching. We would, I decided, include it in Cosmic Wonders.
The vast majority of the entries were from recent voyages. Only a handful, about twenty, originated from World’s End and could be placed within the 1402-3 time period. None of those featured Rachel, but usually we didn’t know until we’d looked because hardly any of the tourists remembered what their captain’s name had been.
One woman recalled a flight she’d been on. “It was the ultimate romantic cruise. There were eight of us, four young couples. We went to one world where they had three moons and the most beautiful skies I’ve ever seen. The tour company had four cottages waiting. They cooked dinner for us over an open fire, and we sang songs, and listened to the noises in the woods. And at another place, we were able to swim in a stream—”
Another narrator, in an entry titled “Standing on the Shore,” remembered a world on which life was getting started. It was still confined to the oceans, and he recalled the eerie sensation of standing on a beach on a world teeming with living things, none of which was visible.
The days passed, and entries continued to arrive. And, finally, we got one with Rachel. Dated late winter, 1402.
The accompanying vids were mostly set inside the ship, which was identified as the Silver Comet. People looked out the viewports, stood smiling beside their captain, pretended to study star charts, embraced, offered toasts, danced, and sang. But there were also images of planets, moons, asteroids, and rings. And an enormous world, almost but not quite massive enough, according to Captain Rachel, to ignite and become a star. It threw off occasional jets.
She was easy to like. She paid attention to the passengers, was especially good with the two kids on board, never allowed herself to get annoyed even when the questions were dumb.
They partied, literally cheered when the Comet drew close to an abandoned space station somewhere in the Veiled Lady, raised their glasses to a beautiful blue world that bore a remarkable resemblance to Earth, and drew to within two hundred meters of a real comet. It was a fireball, and Rachel got giggles from the kids when she asked whether anyone would like to go down and look around.
All told, we collected holograms from three of her missions. The other two were dated in 1399, and in the early spring of 1403. We didn’t have an exact date of departure for Rachel’s final mission, but we knew she’d quit in the spring. The system they’d visited had received one of the standard-issue names assigned by World’s End to attract the interest of potential customers. It was Echo, so called, according to the company, because its soft light, on two terrestrial worlds, would “remind you of your youth.” It was billed as the most romantic spot in the Veiled Lady.
But nobody knew, three decades later, where Echo was, or which star it had been. So we sent the visuals to Shara, who had agreed to try to pinpoint the system.
I took advantage of the opportunity the following day to stop by her office. I was accompanied by Rhonda. Shara said she hadn’t had a chance yet to look at the data. But she was clearly impressed by my security. “The little green men getting that dangerous?” she asked.
I told her about the attack on the river. “I saw something about that,” she said. “I didn’t realize you and Alex were involved.”
Rhonda stayed at a substantial distance. Either because she felt she’d get a better view of the surroundings
that way, or she was allowing me a modicum of privacy. “We almost lost Alex,” I said.
Shara motioned me toward a conference room. “It’s more comfortable in here, Chase.”
Rhonda checked the room first, then took up a position at the door.
“Do you think,” I asked, “you’ll be able to figure out where the ship was?”
“Probably.”
“What’s the method? You going to use a spectroscope?” I was showing off a little. I’d expected she’d try to use spectroscopic analyses to identify the sun.
“Wouldn’t work,” she said. “An imaging system doesn’t give you an accurate gauge of the light. It would be easy if we could, but we’re going to have to do some pattern-matching. But we should be able to make it happen. As long as you sent us some decent shots.”
“So how do you do it?”
She got some coffee out of a machine, handed me a cup, and tried to give another one to the guard. Rhonda smiled and declined. “We want wide-angle shots where possible,” Shara said. “Then all we have to do is identify one star. Once I’ve done that, I can put together a spherical 3-D map with that star as the center. The image will give us a kind of pie-slice wedge cut out of the map with the ship at the point of the wedge. There’ll be just one spot in the map that matches the image.”
“Okay,” I said, not entirely sure I got it. But she seemed to know what she was talking about. “Sounds good to me.”
“If we can identify additional stars, it’ll go even faster.” She smiled. “Okay?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“How about lunch?”
“Where do you suggest?”
Rhonda insisted we eat in the cafeteria.
When I got back to the country house, another Rachel hologram was waiting. But it was dated 1399, too early to be helpful. I watched it anyhow. Watched as she managed the tourists with aplomb and the controls with a steady hand. I got a better close-up of her operational skills with this one than I had with the others. She knew her way around the bridge, and she was as emotionally caught up in the tours as the clients.
Her voice deepened with emotion as she arced her ship around the curve of a terrestrial world while the tourists watched a golden sunrise. She took them over placid oceans, and clouds drifting in moonlight. She descended into canyons on rugged lunar surfaces and glided just above the atmosphere of a gas giant while showing her passengers an enormous, vaporous creature that moved silently through the haze. They watched it suck up gases, and she told them it was a gobble, and they all laughed.
When I got to the country house next morning, Jacob was waiting. “Shara called. She has some results.”
“Good. See if you can get her, Jacob.” He’d already informed Alex, but star positions meant nothing to him, so he’d set it aside until I arrived. Now he came into the office just as Shara blinked on. “Hi, Chase. I’ve sent the details over with the visuals.”
“Thanks,” I said. “What did you get?”
“The system’s catalog number is YL69949. It’s a class-G sun. Located in the Veiled Lady, out toward the Jordanian Cloud.”
“Okay.”
“Margin of error is less than two percent.”
Alex was delighted. “Excellent, Shara. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“We’ll be going out there once we get everything together. You want to come?”
“No, thanks. I like stuff that’s predictable.”
I worked late that evening, doing a survey: None of the touring companies were going to YL69949. None had a record of ever having been there. When I was about to leave, I opened my channel to Alex to say good night, but Jacob alerted me that he was outside the house.
We were keeping the blinds down, as a security measure. I went over and looked through them. Alex was standing in the moonlight near the edge of the forest. Just standing there. I knew his security guard couldn’t be happy about it.
Considering the mood Shara’s success had engendered, I was surprised to see him out there. I hung on until he and the guard came back inside. “You okay?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said. “Just going for a walk.”
“Part of your exercise routine?”
“Pretty much.” The guard retired to his station, which was directly across the corridor from my office. Alex looked at the clock. “What are you doing in here at this hour?”
I told him. Checking to see whether anybody goes out to Echo.
He nodded. “Go home.”
“Okay.”
He stood near the foot of the staircase. “Chase,” he said, “I’m sorry I got you into this.”
“It’s okay. Not your fault.”
“I wish we’d never seen the damned thing.”
PART III
Echo
TWENTY-EIGHT
There is nothing that quite captures the spirit as does that which stands alone, a lighthouse on a rocky shore, an observatory on the dark side of a moon, an eagle perched on a rocky shelf at dawn.
—Yashir Kamma, At the Edge of the World
When you make the jump from hyperspace into the middle of a system that is uncharted, it takes a while to figure out what the system looks like. We had nothing on the star that was recorded in Shara’s catalog as YL69949. The contest submission had shown us an asteroid, a gas giant and a set of rings, and, most spectacularly, a pair of comets. I’d never seen twin comets before, and of course they were gone. Maybe they’d be back in a couple of centuries. Fortunately, all these pictures had also given us a starry background.
Other than that, it had been all partygoers, people wearing funny hats and offering toasts to Uncle Albert and somebody who kept saying I told you so.
We were on the edge of the Veiled Lady. The sun was a class-G yellow dwarf, like the suns found in the home systems that had given birth to the two known technological civilizations. What else actually orbited Echo, the number of planets, their parameters, and so on, was of no interest. Save those worlds that were warm enough for life to have evolved.
The sun floated serenely off to starboard. About twenty minutes after emergence, Belle reported it was somewhat more than three hundred million klicks away. We were on the outer edge of the biozone.
“Any planets yet?” I asked.
“Working on it,” she said.
Alex let me see that he perceived the question as of little consequence. “Are we getting anything that might be an artificial radio signal?”
“Negative,” she said.
“Let us know if you hear anything.”
“Of course, Alex.”
It was a bad beginning. Had there been a technological civilization anywhere in the system, we would almost certainly have been picking up electronic signals of one kind or another. Belle needed almost five hours before she could report a planet. “It’s a gas giant. A sun skimmer, barely twenty million klicks out. No rings. It doesn’t seem to have any moons.”
“Probably pretty warm at that range,” I said.
“What else can you see, Belle?”
“That’s all for the moment. Trying to confirm other possibilities. But it’ll take a while.”
We sat quietly in the cockpit. The sky was filled with stars, and the Cricket Nebula floated directly overhead. “Where’s Rimway’s sun?” asked Alex. “Can you tell?”
“It’s not visible from here,” I said.
If we continued to explore the Veiled Lady and its neighborhood for the next million years, I suspected we still wouldn’t have seen half its worlds. And with so much real estate, it was impossible to believe there was no place anywhere that did not provide a haven for somebody. Something out there was looking at the same spectacle we were. Had to be.
The hours crept past. We sat listening to the vents and the just-audible flow of power and the bleeps and clicks of the various systems. Alex was reading while I played cards with Belle. I leaned over but couldn’t see the title.
“Down and Out on Radford III,”
he said.
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s about six hundred years old.”
“What’s Radford III?”
“It was an early colonization attempt that went wrong.”
“Oh.”
“At the beginning of the Interstellar Age, more than half of them failed during the first thirty years.”
“Why?”
“Usually bad planning. Lack of foresight. Relying on luck. Don’t worry about it; God will see us through. That sort of thing.”
Then Belle had more news: “We have one world eighty-five million klicks from the sun, and I suspect another one is in the biozone on the far side.”
“Okay,” said Alex. “How long to confirm the one on the far side?”
“We need to change our angle.”
“We could be talking a few days, Alex,” I said.
Alex nodded. “All right. Let’s take a look at the one we can see.”
It was a terrestrial world, a little bit larger than Rimway, lots of clouds and storms. It appeared to be mostly dry land. No globe-circling oceans. A few big lakes and a lot of small ones.
While we made our approach, a message arrived from Robin. I went back to my cabin and started it. He blinked on, sitting on the sofa in his living room, one leg crossed over the other. “Wish I’d been able to go along,” he said. He looked good. “Life around here just isn’t the same without you. I’ll confess I have a date this evening with a woman I’ve known on and off for years. Her name is Kyra. We’re going to have dinner at Bacari’s, then probably go to a show. I keep thinking it’s really not fair to her, because the whole time I’m with her I’ll be thinking of you.”
The message was six days old. I responded that I was sure he and Kyra had enjoyed themselves, but I hoped not too much. (I tried to turn it into a joke, but in fact I was annoyed. And he knew I would be.) “We’ve arrived at our destination,” I said, “but at the moment we don’t know anything about the place. Right now we’re just afloat, looking around. It might take a couple of days before we really know what our prospects are. And by the way, I miss you, too.”
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