The Devil's Eye ab-4

by Jack McDevitt

  even lead to a lasting peace." I'd never seen Alex look overwhelmed before. His face had gone pale, and his lips had pulled back until I was looking at his bicuspids. "Mr. Administrator, you're asking us to persuade whom-? I don't know any of their upper-tier people." Kilgore showed that he understood. "Alex. We've had no diplomatic relations with the Mutes for a century or more. And that was the Bandahriate. Which tried to rob them. But that's another story. We've traded public insults. And yes, we were responsible for some of that. Most of it unfairly, I am now learning. We've launched an investigation. It appears that the reports of Mute incursions in our space over the last few months were all concocted. By Barikay and his people." "Who's Barikay?" "Wexler's boss. Now in custody and on his way to prison. As Wexler will be when we find him. But at the moment none of that matters. Look: I don't much like Mutes, and I don't know many people who do. But we need them. We need somebody to go in and pick up the pieces. That's you. Nobody else can do it. Nobody else would have a chance. At least nobody I know. So I want you to go there. Apologize to them for us. Win them over. Get the war stopped." "That's good," said Alex. "What on earth makes you think I can do anything remotely like that?" "All right." He looked toward me. "The truth, Alex. I doubt you can do it. Probably nobody can. But you're our most realistic shot. You can represent us, and at the same time you can point out that you're not part of us. You share no responsibility for what we've been doing. But our world needs their help. We only ask that they make a commitment not to wage a war that they probably don't want to wage in any case. You'll be giving them an excuse to do what they want to do anyhow." "Mr. Administrator," said Alex, "even if we could get the pledge you want, the Confederacy would probably not be willing to take their word." DeVrio said quietly, "We think we can persuade them to go along with a pledge." "We hope so," said Kilgore. "To be honest, it's up in the air." He waited for Alex to accept. Instead, Alex simply looked at him. "Why?" "Why what?" "Why all the animosity? Toward the Ashiyyur?" "Hell, Alex, you know what they look like. And how they get into your brain." "Mr. Administrator-" "Hold it. Okay? Spare me the standard lecture on tolerance. They have the same effect on people that bugs do. You want to step on them. My God, Alex, they make your stomach churn. And that's without the mind reading. No. Look, we're never going to like them, and they're never going to like us. But we need to find a way around that. For now." Alex remained silent. Kilgore got to his feet. "We're doing everything we can to save the world, Alex. We need your help. Can we count on it? "Okay." "You'll do it?" "Of course." "Good. We owe you one." "I'm glad to help, Mr. Administrator." "Yes. Now, as I understand it, you know one of the mayors." "You've done your homework. But he's the mayor of a middle-sized town. He doesn't really have any influence at the top of the Assemblage." Nobody moved for a long time. I could hear noises elsewhere in the building. Voices. A door closing. The hum of the ventilation system. Finally, Kilgore straightened. "Well. You have a better connection than we do. And, Alex-?" "Yes?" "I think you're underestimating yourself." "I hope so. Have you cleared it with the Mutes?" "We've informed them." He became hesitant. "We've made overtures in the past. So far, they've refused

  to accept a diplomatic initiative. They don't like us very much." "So how-?" "You and Chase will be going as private visitors. Talk to the mayor. Or however it is you communicate. Explain the problem. Giambrey will be going with you. As will Circe. She'll be the science liaison. Your job is to help get access for them. If help is required." "Okay." "We haven't time to send a request and wait for an answer." "I understand." "Good." He pressed his fingertips against his forehead. "I guess that's it. That's all you need to do." "We'll do what we can, Mr. Administrator." "There's one more thing you'll be interested in. We'll be announcing it tonight." He looked from Alex to me, and there was a plea in those eyes. "I'll confess it's an initiative I'd keep quiet if I could, but it's not possible." He signaled Circe. Circe's somber gaze locked on Alex. "The stakes first," she said. "If the evacuation plan goes smoothly, if the Confederates send their entire fleet, if private and corporate vehicles from the Confederacy arrive in the numbers we're anticipating, if our manufacturing capability runs without a hitch, and we are able to construct shelters and ships at predicted rates, and if the general population cooperates and does not become disruptive, if all these things happen, we will still lose almost two billion people." My stomach felt cold. I looked out the window. It was a bright, cool day. Spring not far away. The sunlight drew a series of rectangles on the carpet. "Consequently," she said, "we've tried to develop an alternative to evacuation and hiding out in shelters. Given adequate resources, we might be able to build a shield." Alex's brow creased. "A shield?" Circe nodded. "It won't be easy, but it might be possible." "What kind of shield are we talking about?" "A wall. A planetary wall that we will put between the gamma-ray burst and the world." She saw that neither of us understood what she was talking about. "Let me show you," she said. She touched her link, said something to it, and the room went dark. A few stars appeared in the background. Then we were looking at an asteroid, tumbling gently through the night. A ship trailed behind it. It was an Akron Lance VK2, a vehicle used locally for tourists. As we watched, the Lance closed in on the asteroid and touched down. Minutes later, ship and asteroid began to change course. "Those are our building blocks," said Circe. The Lance and the asteroid shrank as we drew back. There was a second ship with a second asteroid. We watched as they adjusted the vector and velocity of the rocks. Then they released them. We followed them through deep space. Toward a long band, with tiny lights hovering around it. As the asteroids approached, it expanded across the room, stopping just short of the main door on one side and the windows on the other. We kept going, angling toward one end. The band continued to grow, and the lights became moderately brighter. It became a wall. We angled toward one end, near the windows. The lights were like so many insects. And we saw finally that they were navigation lamps. Hundreds of them. Mounted on ships. The ships were dwarfed, made minuscule, against that vast fortification. We were looking at Circe's shield. Narrow beams, again in the hundreds, flashed everywhere along the shield's flanks. Lasers. An armada of vehicles intercepted incoming asteroids, sliced them into pieces, and delivered the pieces to other ships, which set them into the wall like pieces in a jigsaw. "Of course," Circe told us, "none of this will happen without your assistance. And maybe not even then." "Why?" "Unfortunately, we don't have hordes of asteroids readily available in any one place, let alone in a strategically correct place. But we've been able to find an optimum site to begin construction of the barrier. And to begin moving that barrier toward its rendezvous, three years from now, with Salud Afar. And the gamma-ray burst."

  "How big would it have to be?" "The planetary diameter is twenty-eight thousand kilometers. So the shield will be roughly thirty thousand kilometers top to bottom. The gamma-ray burst will require seventy-six hours to pass through the area. Unfortunately, we can't arrange for the shield to stop in front of Salud Afar. It will keep moving." "How fast?" I asked. "We believe we can slow it down to about two thousand klicks per hour. That means it will have to be one hundred eighty thousand kilometers long. At a minimum." "Is that really possible?" asked Alex. "Oh, yes. Certainly it's possible. Anything's possible. If we can get enough ships. There are a sufficient number of asteroids, but some of them are remote. So we'll see. Fortunately, the shield need not be thick. A hand's width will be more than sufficient." She looked back at Kilgore, who was watching her with flickering hope. "We can do it. Given the resources." Kilgore took over. "We're in the process now of manufacturing specialized lasers and clamps, which we'll be able to affix to whatever ships we have to work with." "The problem," DeVrio said, "is the ships." "How many do you need?" The lights came back on. The Administrator got out of his chair, walked across the room, stared at the fireplace. "Lasing the shield together will be a monumental task. But collecting and herding the asteroids is even more daunting." "How many, Mr. Administrator? Do you need the entire Confederate
fleet?" He laughed. "The fleet plus pretty much every private and commercial vessel in the Confederacy. Plus everything we can manufacture in the next three years. That's what we need. Anything less than that, and this world dies." Again the room fell silent. Kilgore came back to us and sat down on the edge of his desk. "The problem, of course, is that if we're using these ships to construct a barrier, we can't use them to evacuate anyone." "So what are you going to do?" "We're going to assume success with the Mutes. That they'll hold off. Make some sort of deal. So we'll start the planning. And start fitting the ships that have been moving people out to Sanctum. If we do not get a break with the Mutes, then we'll cancel the shield immediately and go back to hauling citizens." He sucked his lower lip. "Now, do you understand why we need you?" Alex got up. "I'll do what I can." "Thank you, Alex. And Chase." Kilgore sounded vastly relieved. I felt sorry for him. Weight of the world, as the old saying went. It took on new meaning that day.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  It was not, finally, the appearance of the thing striding out of the surf toward us, but the bloodred moon that seared my soul.

  - Love You to Death

  "Make it happen." It was Kilgore's final instruction as we left his office. When we got back to Samuels, the Belle-Marie was waiting. I literally collapsed into the pilot's seat, thinking how I'd not expected to see her again. "How you doing, Belle?"

  "Good. I missed you."

  "You've been having a big time."

  "I carried a group of infants and mothers to Sanctum. Got back yesterday."

  "How'd it go?"

  "Sanctum is not much more than a few modular buildings on a barren plain."

  "That'll change."

  "I hope so."

  "Has the luggage come on board?"

  "Ten minutes ago."

  "All right. Let's go through the checkoff."

  "Before you start, we have a transmission from Number 17 Parkway. Written text. For Mr. DeVrio."

  I passed it back to the cabin. Minutes later, Giambrey sent it forward:

  Giambrey, There's been another shoot-out. Ships destroyed and fatalities on both sides. The situation between the Confederacy and the Assemblage has deteriorated to the point that I wanted to caution you to use extreme care when you approach them.

  Circe asked if she could sit on the bridge during launch. "Sure," I said. "You enjoy spaceflight?" She laughed. It was a pleasant sound, the laughter of a much younger woman. She seemed a different person from the one I'd met in Kilgore's office. "This is the first time I've tried it," she said. "Really? You haven't been out before?" "No," she said. "I've always wanted to, but somehow I never got around to it." She laughed again. "You're looking at me as if I said something funny." "Just surprised, I guess." "Why?" "Because you're helping put together the most ambitious space project I've ever heard of." The launch doors opened and a black-and-white Benson-class yacht came in, moved slowly through the docking area, and tied up at the pier opposite. It carried Dellacondan markings. I wanted to cheer. "Thank God for them," she said. We watched while the pilot debarked. He was apparently alone. "So why didn't you go out on one of the tours?" "I've always wanted to. Just never found the time." "I understand." "Chase," said Belle. "Operations on the circuit." "Okay, Belle. Put them through." "Belle-Marie." A woman's voice. "You are cleared for departure." They gave us a heading. It hadn't happened when I'd left with Ivan. "More incoming traffic," the operator told me. "Wouldn't want you to bump into anybody."

  "On my way, Samuels. Thank you." I released the clamps and eased away from the dock. We moved through the launch area and out into the void. Below us, Salud Afar was a golden globe, vast oceans of clouds illuminated by sunlight. "It's a beautiful world," Circe said. "You know, you make your living out here, Chase. So you assume everybody else gets to go for a ride, too. But the reality is that hardly anyone on the surface has even been up to Samuels. Places like this"-and she indicated either the interior of the ship or the greater universe outside-"you've made into your home. And it seems natural to you that everybody lives the same sort of life. But most people down there probably couldn't even tell you how many planets there are in the system." "But that's not you." "No, it isn't. Chase, I've had a good life. Gone a lot further than I'd ever thought possible. But if I had it to do again, I think I'd follow the path you took. You're a very lucky young woman, but I don't think

  you know it yet." Through a break in the clouds, I caught a glimpse of blue ocean.

  We sent a message to Selotta and Kassel to let them know we were coming. Then, approximately an hour after we'd left the station, I lined up on Borkarat, their home world, told Alex and Giambrey to buckle in, and slipped between the dimensions. One drawback about this kind of travel is that you can't send or receive traffic en route. Should the Mutes respond by telling Kilgore to stick his diplomatic initiative in his ear, he'd have no way of contacting us to let us know. Circe stared out at the long gray twilight of the transdimensional world and told me how she'd always wanted to do this. "Not under these circumstances, of course. But it's so strange out here." "How was life under the Bandahriate?" I asked. "I was a teenager when he died. A lot of people hated it, of course. Hated him . I'm sorry to admit this, but I didn't pay much attention to public affairs. People were out there risking themselves, trying to get rid of Cleev. And I was drifting through school. Boys and physics. It was all I cared about. And not necessarily in that order." She gave me a shy smile. "It must have been a relief when he was gone." "To be honest, I think things ran better under Cleev than they do now. For one thing, Kilgore's government is more corrupt. "Don't get the wrong impression. I'm not saying I'd want Cleev back. But it isn't as black-and-white as everybody pretends." She was a study in contrasts, upbeat and happy most of the time, but she had an existential dimension as well, deepened, no doubt, by the responsibilities she carried. Although, as I got to know her better on that long, lonely flight, I realized it wasn't merely the consequences of failure that weighed on her. She seemed, in fact, confident of success. If these creatures could really see into each other's minds, and into hers, then they would see what was at stake. And they had to possess a degree of empathy well beyond anything you found in humans. How could such a species possibly stand by and watch a catastrophe on this scale wipe out hundreds of millions when they needed to do so little to help prevent it? No, it was something other than her mission. It was, oddly enough, the more mundane aspects of existence that sometimes broke through and affected her, the sense of passing time, of opportunities missed, of the ordinary losses one incurs in life. Young no more. Where do the years go? While I probably spent too much time thinking about the incoming gamma-ray burst, she was quite capable of commenting that, succeed or fail, the day would come when we'd give almost anything to be able to return to such hours on the bridge, to sit with each other and munch jelly sandwiches, which we'd been doing at that moment. And I don't mean to suggest she was not concerned about the bigger picture. But she lived in the moment as much as anybody I've ever known. Giambrey also managed not to allow the importance of the mission to weigh on his mind. "We do what we can," he said. "If the Mutes are reasonable, they'll take advantage of the opportunity to help us. This is an opening for them, as well. A chance to establish better relations and head off a war. They'd be damned fools not to cooperate." He was originally from the City on the Crag. His physician father had visited Salud Afar as a young man, fallen in love with its wide oceans and vast forests, and maybe its sense of solitude, and eventually persuaded his wife to vacation there. She came to share his love for the place, and, after Giambrey's birth, they'd made what he described as the ultimate big move. "Doctors were more in demand there," he said. "There was always a shortage. Not sure why. But the result was that the pay was better. Though my dad always insisted that wasn't the reason." His smile left me feeling everything would be okay. This was a guy who'd been around a long time, and his manner suggested he knew what he was about. His presence provided a balancing point in the storm. "I start
ed out as a journalist," he said. "But I wasn't tough enough for the job. Couldn't ask the hard questions. Didn't like offending people. So eventually my boss suggested I should find another line of work. What I was good at was writing speeches. And one thing led to another." "Tell me about the Administrator," I said.

  "What do you want me to say, Chase? He's been good. He tries to do the right thing. He doesn't have the organizational skills that other chief executives have. And he's got a huge organization to run. We've only had self-government for less than thirty years. Look at where you come from, for example. Rimway. It's still a world of nation-states. But they've a long tradition of cooperating. Working together. On Salud Afar, all the nation-states are brand-new. Nobody knows what they're doing. Everybody thinks that the way to stay in power is to climb over the other guy. "There's even a sizable portion of the population that wants the Cleevs back. You ask what I think of Kilgore? I'm amazed he's been able to hold everything together. Then, of course, to get hit with this"-the upbeat exterior faded a bit-"Thunderbolt." He sighed. "I feel sorry for him. I'll tell you, I wouldn't want his job."