Chindi

by Jack McDevitt

  The smile went whimsical. “So the crazies pulled it off, didn’t they?”

  “They’re not crazy, Kurt.”

  “I understand completely. But are you going on? Beyond this place?”

  “I don’t know. Probably.”

  “How far?”

  “I don’t know that either.” Bill was trying to get her attention. “Just a second, Kurt.”

  “We have an outgoing signal,” he said.

  “Is it a relay?”

  “Do you mean, does it have the same characteristics as the other transmissions? Yes, it does. But it angles off at 133°.”

  “This thing really wanders around.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  Another puzzle. Hutch thanked him, switched back to Kurt, and told him what Bill had reported. “Footprints of another civilization,” she said.

  “I guess. So will you follow it?”

  “It’s not my call.”

  “Whose call is it?”

  “George. George Hockelmann.”

  “Oh.” And, after a moment: “Who’s he?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “I understand you’ve lost some people.”

  “A shipload. And two from our own passenger list.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know. Thanks.” She hesitated. “I’ll be asking you to take the remains back with you.”

  “I can do that.” He looked at her as if he expected her to say more. Then: “Do you want to continue with this? The mission?”

  “You want the truth, Kurt?”

  “Don’t I always?”

  “I wouldn’t want to admit it to George, but I’m getting kind of fascinated. Somebody planted these things more than a thousand years ago. Except maybe one of them which the Academy tells us is less than a century old.”

  “That doesn’t make much sense.”

  “Sounds as if they have some sort of ongoing maintenance. I’d like to see where it all leads.” She was looking at the Wendy’s position on the navigation screen. “When do you expect to get here?”

  “Midmorning tomorrow.”

  “Want to come with us? On the next step?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You could send the Wendy back with the AI.”

  “Hutch, I really wish I could.” He shook his head, signifying he wouldn’t do it under any circumstances he could imagine. “But I’ve got this bad ankle that’s been bothering me, and, anyway, you know how Bill gets when he’s left alone. By the way—”

  “Yes?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Sure. What can I do?”

  “The Academy wants a sample stealth. They got kind of miffed at Park when he reported he only had a few parts on board.”

  “Had they asked him to bring one back?”

  “No, but they thought he should have used some initiative. Anyway, they want me to pick one up. I’d be grateful for some assistance.”

  THEY CHRISTENED THE new world Icepack and made as complete a record as they could. Bill measured or estimated density, equatorial diameter, mass, surface gravity, inclination, rotation period, and volume. He took the surface temperature at various locations. It was always a couple of hundred degrees below zero. He recorded the various proportions of methane and hydrogen, ammonia ice and water ice.

  He also took extensive pictures of the moons, which were sent into mission control and studied relentlessly. Nowhere did they find any indication why the stealths were present.

  Meantime Hutch set about selecting one of the units for disassembly.

  “Are you sure you wish to do this?” Bill asked.

  A red flag went up. “What’s your reservation, Bill?”

  “Each change you make degrades the signal. We removed one unit from Point B. And parts of another. Now we propose to remove another one here. Whoever is on the receiving end of the transmission may resent what we’re doing.”

  “Whoever’s on the receiving end isn’t going to know about it for a long time.”

  “Then let me try it another way: Isn’t there an ethical issue involved?”

  “No, there’s no ethical issue. We lost people. We’re perfectly justified in doing what’s necessary to find out what happened. Anyway, they’re a thousand years old. Or more.”

  “But they’re working artifacts, Hutch. And I hope you won’t object if I point out that a thousand years is only relatively a long time.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Bill. We’ll get one for Kurt, which I have to do because I promised it, and that’s it. We won’t touch any more after this one. Okay?”

  The AI was silent.

  SHE PICKED THE one they would take apart and sat up late that evening, talking about it with Tor and Nick. “I half suspect,” said Tor, “that when we find who’s on the receiving end of all this, we discover there’s nobody there.”

  “How do you mean?” she asked.

  “That the project that launched all this is long forgotten. That these signals are bouncing around, and somewhere they’re being funneled down to a receiver and stored for somebody who really doesn’t care anymore. Who may not even still be at the old storefront. I mean, how much time would you spend watching a neutron star?”

  Nick agreed. “They’re probably dead and gone,” he said. But neither of them was an archeologist. Neither was she, for that matter, although she’d worked with archeologists all her life. She understood their reverence for artifacts, for the objects that used to be buried in the ground, but might also be found in orbit. The term had been expanded to include radio signals. Bill was right: These were operational artifacts, and she could not shake the sense that she was about to destroy something of value.

  “On the same subject,” she told Tor, “I’ll be going outside tomorrow to do the deed. I’d like to have it disassembled and ready to go when Kurt gets here.”

  “You need help?” he asked.

  “Yes. If you’re available.”

  “Am I available?” He flashed a broad grin. “Count on me.”

  In the morning, Kurt was on the circuit before Hutch was fully awake. “I’ve loaded the shuttle with your stuff,” he said.

  The Memphis was too small to support a dock, other than the space-saving arrangement in the cargo bay for its lander. The designer had assumed that any arriving vehicle would simply come alongside and transfer passengers directly through the main airlock. In this case, however, they were taking on supplies, and it seemed more rational to take the lander outside and make room for the Wendy’s shuttle.

  “How big a job,” asked Kurt, “is it, taking apart a stealth?”

  “Nothing we can’t handle.”

  “Okay. Are we on for dinner?”

  “If you get here with the sauerbraten.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have sauerbraten, Hutch. How about roast pork?”

  “That’ll do fine.” She signed off and went down to the common room, where breakfast was in progress. “We need to decide whether we’re going to move on,” said George. “Do we know yet where the stealths are aimed? Where the next relay point is?”

  Hutch passed the question on to Bill, who appeared in a corner of the navigation display. “It passes directly through a pair of gas giants in this system and then goes all the way to GCY-7514.”

  “Where’s that?” asked Nick.

  “It’s a galaxy,” said Hutch.

  George looked distraught. “That can’t be right.”

  “Bill’s pretty accurate with stuff like this. He doesn’t make mistakes.” She sat down and looked at Bill. “You said a pair of gas giants. What do you mean?”

  “There are two of them locked in a fairly tight gravitational embrace. Unusual configuration. The signal goes right through the system.”

  Everyone fell silent.

  “They’re quite beautiful, I would think,” he added.

  “End of the track,” said Nick. He looked unhappy, too. They all did.

  Hutch wa
sn’t sure how she felt. It would be an unsatisfying conclusion. But maybe it was just as well that they’d be forced to call it off and go home. It seemed like a good time to change the subject. “The Wendy’ll be here with our stores in a few hours,” she said.

  Tor nodded. “Doesn’t seem to me that we’ll need them.”

  “You’d get pretty hungry going home.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I know this is a disappointment for everybody. But try to keep in mind what you’ve accomplished. You’ve discovered the aftermath of a nuclear war. And you’ve got a living world that may or may not have intelligent life. That’s not bad for a single mission.” She clumped George on the shoulder.

  “What are you hearing from Sylvia?” asked George.

  Hutch collected a breakfast and sat down beside him. “It sounds as if we’d’ve become the spearhead of a fleet,” she said. “If there’d been a continuation of the net. She hasn’t said anything, but I’ll bet they’re looking at the other end, at the incoming signal at 1107. Who knows what’s on the other side of the network?”

  HUTCH HAD SELECTED the stealth that was easiest to reach and the Memphis had been navigating toward it throughout the night. It was one of the three receptors.

  Hutch and Tor slipped into e-suits, added go-packs, and went outside. It was a far different experience from Safe Harbor, which was sunlit, Earth-like, familiar. This world was dark, cold, remote, its sun lost among the stars. They saw the surface only as a vast blackness.

  Bill had used night-vision equipment to find the stealth, and they wore goggles that allowed them to distinguish its outlines. “It’s identical to the other ones,” said Tor. “Looks as if they only have one kind of satellite. I mean, it doesn’t need stealth capabilities to be invisible out here.”

  The Memphis lit up the unit as they came out through the airlock, using go-packs to cross the forty or so meters separating them from the target.

  “Can anyone hear us on this circuit?” Tor asked.

  “Yes,” she said, “although I doubt anyone’s listening. Except Bill.”

  “Oh.”

  She explained how to switch to a private channel, heard the click in her phones, and then he said, “Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “I wanted you to know, when we get home, I’m going to ask you to have dinner with me.”

  “We have dinner every night, Tor.”

  “You know what I mean. Just you and me. With candles and wine.” He paused. “Just one dinner. No commitment. And afterward I’ll disappear out of your life unless you ask me not to.”

  He was wearing a green pullover shirt with a stenciled image of Benjamin Franklin. And his famous comment, If at first you don’t succeed. She smiled, thinking, You of all people. If at first you don’t succeed, quit before you get in trouble.

  “Look out you don’t hit your head,” she said.

  “Where?”

  “Here.” She wrapped on an invisible panel, and then directed her lamp toward it. “Things stick out all along here, and they’re hard to see.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “And the dinner?”

  She was hanging on to one of the dishes. “Are you asking me now? I thought you were going to wait until we get home?”

  “You’re playing games with me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “that I was playing games. I didn’t mean to. I’d love to have dinner with you, Tor.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’m glad we got that settled.”

  THEY CLIMBED ABOARD and flashed their lamps around. The reflections were wrong, jumbled, confused, but she could make out the general shape of the object, a dish here, another opposite, the central section directly ahead. There, in the forward part of the diamond, would be the panel that gave access into the stealth controls.

  The Memphis floated alongside them, its lights periodically playing across them, silhouetting them, casting shadows. The cargo hatch was open and brightly lit. Hutch had found a bar along the central axis of the diamond, and she was using it as a handhold. Beneath her, everything was dark.

  They drifted through the night, and it seemed suddenly as if they were utterly alone. His eyes were hidden, but she could sense the tension in his body. “Would you feel more comfortable,” he asked, “if I went back with the Wendy?”

  “Why no. Of course not, Tor. Why would you do that?”

  He hesitated a long time. “I thought it might be a little easier on you.”

  “I’m fine. I’m glad to have you here.” What kind of guy is this?

  He hoisted himself around the central axis, bringing them face-to-face. “You know why I came,” he said.

  “Because of me.”

  “You knew from the start.”

  “No,” she said. She was no longer sure what she’d known. “But I’m glad you came.”

  He nodded and squeezed her shoulder. Then she turned her attention to the stealth effects. The panel was precisely where she knew it would be. She lifted it and shut down the circuitry. The satellite blinked into visibility.

  The Wendy was considerably larger than the Memphis, and her cargo doors were twice as big. Even so, the dishes would be a tight fit. They were mounted on shafts that would have to be cut as close as possible to the antenna.

  She didn’t really need Tor’s help. He was with her as a safety factor, because the regs prohibited one person from going outside alone. But since he was available, she had him use light line to secure the three units that comprised the vehicle to each other, so nothing would drift off.

  “Hutch.” Bill’s voice. “The Wendy is on final approach.”

  “How long?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay. Patch me through.” She waited through a series of electronic connections, then heard the carrier wave. “Kurt?”

  “Good morning, Priscilla. Bill tells me you’re out slicing up my artifact.”

  “Yep. It’ll be wrapped and ready for delivery when you get here.”

  “Okay. I have two loads of supplies for you. If you’ve no objection, I’m going to move one of those over first. Then we can stow the satellite.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “I’ve got enough stuff to keep you going another eight months. I hope they’re paying you overtime.”

  Hutch selected the point of separation, fired up her laser, and cut the dish free. “Oh, yes,” she said. “The pay is generous. As always.”

  chapter 15

  I spoke of most disastrous chances,

  Of moving accidents by flood and field;

  Of hair-breadth ’scapes i’ the imminent deadly breach.

  —SHAKESPEARE,

  OTHELLO, I, 1604

  HUTCH WANDERED THROUGH the storage section with Tor, making mental notes. The meat would go here, perishables there, snacks in the upper cabinets. Bill’s voice sounded on the allcom: “Hutch, Captain Eichner is on his way.”

  They joined the others outside the cargo bay and waited while Bill launched the lander to make room for the incoming shuttle.

  The Wendy Jay, floating in the distance, was gray, angular, utilitarian, not much for looks. Pods stuck out fore and aft. It was normally a survey vessel, loaded with sensing gear.

  Hutch turned off the artificial gravity. Nick made a face, signaling that he didn’t like zero gee, that his organs had begun to move around.

  “It’ll go away in a second,” she told him.

  “Hutch, it never goes away in a second.”

  Bill picked up the approaching shuttle and put it on-screen.

  Hello, Kurt.

  As if he were reading her thoughts, it blinked its lights.

  “I’ve got the goodies,” he said. “You really only have four passengers?”

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “They sent enough stuff to take you to Eta Carina.”

  He needed only a few minutes to cross the two kilometers or so between the two ships, easing into the bay and settling against the cradle. Clamps lock
ed the shuttle in place, the door closed, and gravity came back. When air pressure was restored, he opened up, looked around the launch chamber, and climbed down.

  Hutch did the introductions. Kurt, it turned out, had ferried Tor to Outpost. “I was sorry to hear that Herman was one of the casualties,” he added.

  “You knew Herman?” asked Tor.

  He released the cargo hatch and opened up. “I met him at an Academy function. He seemed reasonable for a—” He hesitated, suddenly realizing where he was headed. For a contact nut. For a fanatic. “—For a man who’d already put away several drinks,” he finished. Hutch thought it a good recovery.

  They began unloading. It was easy work, especially in the light gravity. When they’d finished, they collected the satellite core and the supports for the dishes and loaded them. They were too long for the compartment, but as long as he left the hatch open it would be okay. The other pieces would go back to the Wendy on the second trip. Hutch thanked everybody at that point and said she and Kurt would take care of the rest. She was talking about moving the bodies.

  “I’ll help,” said Tor.

  George looked grateful to get away from that part of the job. “Okay, good,” he said. “I have some work to do in mission control.” It sounded pompous, and he knew it, so he flashed a weak smile and cleared out.

  Hutch led the way to the freezers. She opened up, and Kurt looked at the bodies and shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

  They were wrapped in plastic envelopes. It was a long walk back, so Hutch killed the gravity again. Tor carried one and Kurt took the other. Hutch trailed behind. She’d already filled in the other captain on the details of the attack, and she could see that he wondered how she could let such a thing happen. But he didn’t ask that question so she made no effort to answer it, other than to say, on a private channel, that she’d seen it coming.

  They stowed them in the shuttle cargo compartment, where they’d left room.

  Kurt climbed into the vehicle, and Hutch jumped in on the passenger’s side. “We’ll be back in a bit,” she told Tor.

  “You have anybody over there to help?” Tor asked.

  “We can manage,” said Kurt.

  Tor was holding the door and gazing at Hutch. “Why don’t I come along and lend a hand?”