“No doubt.”
“But that’s neither here nor there either. We’re not concerned about theological niceties tonight. We’re talking about keeping the peace.”
Jesus nodded. “May I ask a question, Proxinos?”
“Yes, you may. As long as it is not religious in nature.”
“Of course. How long have the Greeks been in Jerusalem?”
“What are we talking about, Prisoner?”
“How long have you controled this area?”
He frowned. How could the prisoner not know? “About sixty years.”
“Sixty years?”
“More or less.”
Jesus could not restrain a broad smile. “Actium,” he said.
Dimonides frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“Antony won at Actium, didn’t he?”
“Of course.” Dimonides looked baffled. “What are we talking about?”
“And the Greeks don’t do crucifixions.”
“Crucifixions? Of course not. We try not to execute anyone.”
“Very good. A humane policy.”
Dimonides laughed. “We are gratified that you approve.” His gaze tracked inward, and the hint of mockery went away. “We’ve executed probably fewer than twenty people over the last four hundred years. But one of them turned out to be Socrates.”
“I know.”
“It hasn’t helped our reputation.”
They stood silently for several seconds. Jesus heard voices in the corridor. Then everything was silent again save for the crackle of the fire.
“Well,” said Dimonides, “I can’t really allow a trouble-maker to simply run loose. I could put you in prison, I suppose.”
Jesus showed no reaction.
“You wouldn’t like that. Better might be exile. Get you out of here, so you can’t stir up problems. The place is already a cauldron.” He leaned forward and braced his chin on his hand. “How would you feel about the mines? In northern Thrace? The weather’s quite nice this time of year. No? Well, let me see what else I have available.”
Mary was waiting for him, holding a lamp. She threw herself into his arms. “I was so frightened,” she said. “All those things you were saying that were going to happen. You had us all terrified!” She was giddy.
“Tell me,” he said, “are you surprised there are now Greeks occupying the area?”
“I hadn’t noticed. Is that right?”
“But you remember the Romans?”
“Of course. Why do you say it that way? As if they’re gone?”
“They are.”
“Are you serious?”
“Am I not always?”
“No, my Lord, you are not.”
“It’s probably best if we keep it that way.” The air was cool and sweet. “He left your memory intact. Good.”
She held onto him as if fearful the mob would come again. “Don’t misunderstand me,” she said. “I’m so grateful things turned out the way they have. I don’t know how to react. But how does it happen you were so wrong about this night? You’ve always been right about everything else.”
He smiled. “It pays to have friends in high places.”
Her eyes were beautiful in the lamplight. “So what happens now?”
“I’m being exiled.”
“That’s an improvement over what we were expecting. Where to?”
“Alexandria.”
“Egypt?”
“Yes.” Her hand curled into his. “They want me somewhere out of the way. So I can do no damage.”
“Egypt’s as out of the way as any.”
“Mary, they need a librarian.”
“You? Working in a library?”
“I might get a chance to do a little writing.”
She uncovered a lamp. “Some philosophy?” she asked.
“Maybe that, too.”
“That too? What else?”
“I’d like to try my hand at theater.”
“I can’t imagine you doing a tragedy.”
“Nor can I. I was thinking maybe comedy. I like comedy.” He took the lamp from her. Held it high to illuminate the path. And thought how much better it was than a cross.
MAIDEN VOYAGE
For Priscilla Hutchins, it was the experience she’d always dreamed of: her qualification flight, a mission that would take her to seven planetary systems, and ultimately to her pilot’s license.
The most exciting destination, she thought, would be Fomalhaut, a white main sequence dwarf, about twice the size of Earth’s sun, and sixteen times brighter. But that wasn’t what had captured her imagination. Fomalhaut’s system contained the first extrasolar planet actually seen through a telescope. It was a giant world, three times the size of Jupiter. But the real news came when we’d actually arrived in the system: the largest satellite in its family of moons was home to one of the alien constructs that eventually became known as the Great Monuments. Put in place by an unknown entity thousands of years ago. By the time of her qualification flight, a total of eleven had been discovered, scattered around the Orion Arm. They are magnificent sculptures, set on moons and asteroids and small planets, and occasionally simply placed in their own orbits. The first was discovered long before we had achieved interstellar flight. On Iapetus. It depicts a lizard-like female creature believed to be a self-portrait of the sculptor. And it was a major factor in restarting a long-stalled space program.
Since she’d been a little girl, Hutch had wanted to see the Iapetus monument, but she’d had to settle for turning out the lights in her living room and looking up at a virtual representation. She’d felt a kinship with the alien creature gazing placidly across that destitute landscape at the ringed planet, which was permanently frozen on the horizon. Never rising, never setting. Priscilla had sat on her sofa sipping orange juice. She didn’t want to pretend to be at the site. She wanted to be there. To touch the stone image. To trace with her fingers the alien characters cut into its base.
No one had ever deciphered their meaning.
The monument at Fomalhaut was an abstract. A ring with an angled cross bar extending past the sides, mounted on a base. As always, the base had an inscription in unfamiliar characters.
It was made of rock extracted at the site, but the monument possessed an ethereal strain, heightened by multiple sources of moonlight, as if its natural habitat included trees, water, and the sounds of insects.
But before Hutch and the Copperhead could get to it, there’d be a routine stop at Groombridge 1618 to drop off supplies and passengers. Her parents had been unhappy when she’d announced her intention to pilot interstellars. Even her father, who’d arranged for her to touch the sky, had urged her to find, as he put it, a more rational life. She’d been disappointed in him, and it had caused a temporary split between them. In the end, he’d conceded, and he and Mom had thrown an unforgettable party for her. Lou Cunningham, the boyfriend of the moment, had attended, and at the end of the evening, as they stood outside on the lawn of the family house, he’d asked her not to go, but instead to be his wife. She liked Lou, even though the long-term chemistry wasn’t there.
“I love you, Hutch,” he’d said. “Will you marry me?” He’d stared at her, and she’d watched the dismay fill his expression as he read her answer in her eyes. And the frustration. She’d thought how this might be one of those decisions she’d revisit over the years, and eventually come to regret.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Jake. It brought her back to the bridge of the Copperhead. She was in the pilot’s seat. The scopes were picking up only the gray mist that filled the transdimensional space that allowed vehicles to move among the stars.
“Nothing,” she said.
Jake Loomis let her see his disapproval. “All right, Hutch. Six minutes to jump.” He was sliding into the seat beside her.
“Okay.”
“Best keep focused when stuff is happening.”
“I’m focused,” she said.
“Benny’s good.�
�� The AI. “But don’t assume nothing will ever break down. If something goes wrong out here, it tends to happen very quickly.”
“Okay, Jake.”
He waited. Was he expecting her to say more? Then it came to her. The passengers. She touched the allcom pad, trying to look as if she’d been about to do that anyhow. “Professor Eddington,” she said, “Dr. Andrews, Isaika, we’ll be transiting back into normal space in five minutes. If you need to do anything, this would be a good time. Then belt down.”
She glanced over at Jake. He pretended to be looking at the fuel gauge. “Benny,” she said, “start engines.”
Jake was a true believer. She suspected he was one of those guys who’d never walk away from the interstellars. He was a big man, with dark skin and black hair and an easy-come easy-go attitude. His eyes had a kind of whimsical look, implying that he did not take her seriously. Did not really trust her. “Benny can get you through most missions,” he told her, “but if a problem develops you need to be ready.” There was something in the way he stressed the last word that underscored his doubts about her.
Hutch had no reason to question her own capabilities. She had done well through the eight-month program leading up to this final mission, in which she would be expected to function as the captain, while Jake served purely as an observer. The guy who filled out the score sheet.
“Jump in one minute,” said Benny. The panel was showing a red light. One of her passengers had not yet belted in.
“One minute, everybody,” she said. “Larry, get into your harness.” Dr. Larry Andrews preferred being addressed informally.
“Doing it now, Captain,” he said.
They all thought, or pretended to think, she was actually captain of the Copperhead. Jake had been good that way. He’d implied he was just along for the ride. That Hutch was in charge. It had boosted her confidence. She loved being called “Captain Hutchins.” But she understood that her reaction was a clear demonstration of her immaturity. Larry’s lamp turned green.
“Thirty seconds,” she said.
She activated her own harness, and Jake settled back in his seat. He’d been about to remind her. But she hadn’t forgotten. Almost, but not quite. The engines changed tone. “Transit initiated,” said Benny. The gray mist dissipated. The navigation display went dark. And a multitude of stars blinked on. Moments later, the AI broke in: “Hutch, we have a message from the Academy.”
“What is it, Benny?”
He put it onscreen:
Jake, FYI: We just got word that the hold on the Quraqua terraform is going to be rescinded. That means you may be bringing a couple of people back with you. Frank.
Frank Irasco was the director of operations. And Quraqua, of course, was an Earth twin. An ideal colony world. But it had ruins dating back thousands of years. It was dry, and the corporates wanted to make it attractive to settlers. Terraforming would mean a cool pleasant climate, with modular beachfront homes. And sure it would put a lot of the ruins underwater. But what the hell?
Hutch stared at the message. The battle over revamping that world had been going on for years. Archeologists wanted to preserve the ruins. But Quraqua would be a priceless asset as a colony. She sighed. “Welcome to Groombridge, Jake,” she said.
Technically, it was Groombridge 1618. Eight light-years from Earth. An orange-red main sequence flare dwarf. Hutch had done her homework. The star was still young, less than a billion years old, and though it was smaller and less luminous than the Sun, it threw off flares that were far more intense than anything seen at home. And the eruptions were frequent. That was, indirectly, the reason it was of particular interest to biologists. Because it was so much cooler than the Sun, the Goldilocks zone, where liquid water could exist, was much closer to it, running from thirty-eight to seventy million miles. That brought any potential life-bearing world within range of the flares, where no terrestrial-style life was likely to exist. Groombridge II, Hibachi’s World, was right in the center of the zone. It had two moons, a big one and a small one. And, remarkably, it also had tangled jungles and as wide a diversity of animals as existed at home. No deserts or open plains presented themselves. The only land areas that were not overgrown were at the poles. Biologists loved it, and had spent the past five years on the planet trying to figure out how it had happened. “We have most of the answers now,” Larry told her. “We’re at the point where it’s just a matter of filling in the blanks.” He floated behind her, holding onto the back of her chair, watching the planet grow gradually larger on the display.
She swung one of the scopes toward the sun. It looked tranquil. Sedate. “Just how serious are the flares?” she asked.
Larry was tall, thin, self-effacing. He was probably in his early thirties, but his hair had already begun to gray at the temples. He spoke in a relaxed, amiable tone. “Pretty severe,” he said. “Fortunately, you normally get some advance warning before the thing goes off, so that gives everybody time to get under cover. But it limits what you can do.”
Jake pushed back in his seat. “You wouldn’t want to be out walking around in it, I assume.”
“Probably not, Jake. I was glad to see they put the extra armor on the Copperhead. I doubt we’ll need it, but you never know.”
Hutch suppressed a smile. The extra armor lining the ship was for Palomus, a pulsar, where they’d be dropping off supplies in a few weeks. “How long will you be staying?” she asked. She knew Larry had two young kids.
“Probably a year.”
“The vegetation’s not green.”
“Can’t have chlorophyll. Not in this kind of environment.” Had she made the same comment to Eddington, she’d have gotten a detailed explanation, filled with descriptions of protective coatings, energy collection methods, alternative genealogical systems, and who knew what else? Eddington was an oversized guy, big and unwieldy in every sense of the word. He could barely make it through the hatches. He’d been out here before, and he talked constantly about his previous experiences, retelling the same stories.
Isaika Nakamura, the third member of the party, was an engineer. She was middle-aged and bored. She’d come along to inspect, upgrade, or repair—Hutch wasn’t sure which—the systems protecting the shelter. She had no apparent interest in the mission itself, and she let everyone know that she was part of the mission because she’d lost a coin toss.
They had emerged about eight hours out from Hibachi’s World. The passengers slept and read. The ground station was the Erik Acharius Complex, named after the nineteenth-century Swedish botanist. Hutch opened a channel. “Acharius,” she said, “this is Copperhead. We have arrived and will enter orbit around midnight your time. Over.”
A burst of static. Then: “Welcome to Acharius, Copperhead.” The voice sounded energetic. It belonged to a young male. “Looking forward to seeing you. Who am I talking to?”
“Priscilla Hutchins.”
“Nice to meet you, Captain Hutchins. I’m Ollie Evers. It’ll be good to have some company. We don’t get many visitors out here.”
“How long has it been?”
“Since the last supply ship?” She heard him turn the question over to someone else. Then he was back. “Seven months.”
“Well, Ollie,” she said, “the glories of working for the Academy.”
“Absolutely.”
“How’s the weather?” She was referring to flares. The station maintained a satellite in geostationary orbit to monitor Groombridge.
“You’re clear. If we see any problems, we’ll let you know post haste.”
“How reliable are the predictions? You get a reasonable advance warning?”
“Usually. Shouldn’t be a problem. We’ve never lost anybody.”
“Glad to hear it.”
There was a long pause. She was about to ask if he was still there when he came back: “When you get here, Captain, we’ll have a surprise for you.”
Jake was signaling her, pointing back into the cabin. The meaning was clear enough.
Invite Eddington and the others to participate in the conversation. “Hold on, Ollie.” She activated the allcom. “Guys, we have Acharius on the circuit. Anybody want to say hello?”
Eddington took over and immediately began asking questions about genealogical strains in local amphibians. Hutch shut off the mike and turned down the sound. Jake folded his arms and sighed. “He does like to talk.”
She nodded.
Jake was quiet for a minute. Then: “What made you decide to do this for a living, Hutch?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“Idle curiosity.”
She considered the question. “My dad’s an astronomer.”
“Oh,” he said. “Jason Hutchins. I should have realized.”
“Yes. He’s pretty well known.”
“He’s the guy who heard the artificial signal.”
“It’s a lot of years ago now.”
“And that’s what got you interested in piloting interstellars?”
“It helped.”
“But nothing ever came of it.”
“That wasn’t the big thing.”
“What was?”
“When I was about six or seven, he took me to the Moon. That was before the signal came in.”
“You must have enjoyed that.”
“I loved it. Never forgot it. I remember standing out there with him on the rim of a crater. ‘How old’s the crater, Daddy?’ ‘Millions of years, kid,’ he said. I don’t think I knew what a million was, but he described a place that never changed. I still remember his saying that time stood still out there. And I could feel it. A place where clocks didn’t run. It was incredible, Jake. When I got home, I kept thinking about it. You know, the other kids, they played ball and sat on swings and never looked above the rooftops. Later, they were all talking about becoming lawyers or getting degrees in business management. Me, I never wanted anything other than what I’m doing right now.”
Jake smiled. “I think you’re going to find it’s not as romantic as it sounds, Hutch.”
A Voice in the Night Page 20
