Octavia Gone

by Jack McDevitt

  “So what did he say?” I asked.

  “The pilot was Harding. And yes, we may have gotten some results. I recorded the call. You want to watch?”

  Big Jonathan didn’t appear to be very big. I’d have guessed he was not quite Gabe’s size. He’d been around awhile. His face and hair were gray. He was spread out in a large armchair, and he looked tired. He was wearing a blue pullover shirt and light fatigues.

  Gabe asked him about the world with the scary animals.

  “The pilot,” he said, “Captain Harding, told us the animals weren’t the only problem. He thought the atmosphere might have been poisonous. He said it had oxygen and everything but there was something else. Something toxic. He said other worlds can be like that.

  “We got the radio signals while we were on the mountaintop. He told us there shouldn’t be any out there. It was a voice transmission, but we couldn’t understand what it was saying. It’s the only time I’ve ever heard a different language.”

  “Did he mention any possible source?”

  “No. He said he had no idea. But he was interested. Anyway we lifted off and he tried to figure out where it was coming from. There was nothing below us except forests and jungles, big plains and deserts. And swamps. There was a lot of swamp country. But there was absolutely no sign of anything. Harding finally said he thought the source was offworld. Probably one of the moons.

  “He asked if we wanted to look, or if we’d rather leave. We said absolutely, do it. Let’s look. So we spent another day just cruising around looking at the moons. But we never saw anything. They were just rocky landscapes and craters. I don’t think any of them even had any air.

  “He worked out which direction the signal was coming from. It was just coming out of the sky. He said eventually he was going to come back and look around. When he could make time. He promised that, if he found anything, he’d let us know. But after we got home we never heard from him again. I checked with two of the other passengers. They never heard anything either. So I assume he didn’t find anything. Or probably never bothered.”

  • • •

  We went through the Orion Express advertising. It was concentrated on the tours conducted from Chippewa, although we found out they had operational sites on two other stations, at Dellaconda and Fishbowl. But that was irrelevant. Eventually Gabe sighed. “I don’t see any mention of a New Worlds Tour.”

  We went back down to the Orion Express Center. There were a few customers this time. Bentley was gone, replaced by a woman. That was good. He’d pretty obviously decided we were troublemakers. “Hello,” Gabe said. “We’re interested in the New Worlds Tour. Are you still running it?”

  The woman was taller than either of us. She wasn’t young, and she delivered a tired frown. Her eyes turned to the screen on her right side. She tapped a key and, without looking away from it, asked what the New Worlds Tour was. “I never heard of it,” she added.

  “They used to go out past the frontier. By way of Elysium. They took people to worlds hardly anyone had been to before.”

  She bit her lower lip. “Hold on a second. Let me take a look.” She touched more keys. Behind us, two customers started looking restless.

  “Yeah,” she said, pressing the screen with her index finger. “We used to have one of those. But not anymore. It’s been gone a long time.”

  “Why did they discontinue it?”

  “They decided it was dangerous. There was a series of destinations, but some of the places had hazards. Sudden storms out of nowhere, wild animals. A couple places had biological issues. Bugs that might have been infectious.”

  “That’s rare,” said Gabe. “Usually we’re immune to diseases from other worlds.”

  She shrugged. “I guess.”

  I jumped in: “One of the worlds they used to visit had nine or ten moons. Can you check to see where it is? Which system it’s in?”

  Somebody behind me groaned.

  “I don’t have access to anything like that,” she said. “I’m seeing that the farthest flight was to Zenora 46, about two hundred light-years out. But that’s all I have.” She looked over my shoulder and held up a hand, reassuring the people behind us we were almost finished.

  “You have any staff people,” Gabe asked, “who might be able to help?”

  “No. I’m sorry. I’m the only person on duty.”

  • • •

  We went back to the hotel and Gabe discovered there was a Chippewa Travel Adviser. He called and she blinked on moments later in the center of the room, wearing a blue uniform with a white shoulder patch carrying the outline of an interstellar yacht. Golden hair fell down onto her shoulders. She could have been Chad’s sister. But she wore a smile that suggested she had a no-nonsense personality. “Hello,” she said, “how may I be of service?”

  “We understand,” said Gabe, “there’s a terrestrial planet with approximately nine moons that’s within a hundred light-years of Elysium. It’s a living world, not a gas giant. Can you identify it for me?”

  “Can you hold for a minute?”

  “Sure. Take your time.”

  She was back in twenty seconds. “The world you’re referring to is probably Coladia. It’s a living world and it has between nine and seven satellites. Be aware, though, that numerous systems within that section have never been visited.”

  “Can you tell me where it is? Coladia?”

  “It’s in the RK617 system. The sun is a yellow dwarf. The planet is obviously in the goldilocks zone. Third orbit. Do you wish us to send navigation details?”

  “Yes, please. To the Belle-Marie. It’s docked at the space station.”

  “Very good. Your vehicle will have the data in a minute or two.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. If you’d care to make a contribution to the Chippewa Travel Advisory Group . . .”

  Gabe agreed to give them thirty markers, which, I thought, was unduly generous. But I left it to him. The adviser thanked us and was gone.

  “Coladia,” said Gabe. “That’s not a good sign.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s the name. Sounds like a place where a lot of stuff collides.”

  “Maybe we should have asked Blondie.”

  XIX.

  I know those dark streets,

  The moonlit park

  Where the fountain glitters,

  And the silent benches

  Where once we sat

  And watched the world go by.

  All empty now,

  Holding only echoes of you.

  —AUDREY KARAS, “ECHOES OF YOU,” 1417

  We thought about checking out of the hotel and getting an early start. But we’d paid for the rooms so we decided to use them. We spent the evening wandering the concourse, visiting gift and book shops, looking down at Chippewa where its lights glittered through the night, and downing a couple of drinks at a café called The Last Stop while a guitarist played and sang. Apparently there’d been a wedding earlier, and what was left of the party was hanging on. The happy couple, we were told, were ironically on their way to Elysium and the Oceanside Hotel.

  Nonetheless, Gabe was happy to become part of the celebration. In the midst of it, he joined a young woman and the guitarist to sing a couple of numbers, including “Echoes of You.” I’d forgotten how good his voice was. Near the end of the evening, he commented that the place needed a piano. “Maybe,” I said, “we should get one on board the Belle-Marie.”

  “Good idea.” He said it with a smile. “Let’s mention it to Alex.”

  • • •

  It wasn’t entirely a joke. The flight to the system that was home to Coladia would be short, but when you added the time to track down the world, it would extend to several days. A piano would help. “You still writing?” I asked as we belted in and got ready to launch. The exit gate in the overhead was opening.

  “Music?” he asked.

  “Yes.”


  “I don’t write music.”

  “You were writing some songs when my mom was your pilot.”

  “That was strictly an experiment, Chase. I don’t have any talent. Ask your mother.”

  “That wasn’t what she told me.”

  Before he could reply, comm ops was on the circuit: “Belle-Marie, you there?”

  I opened the channel. “We’re here.”

  “Captain, you are clear to go.”

  • • •

  I didn’t think there was much chance of getting a repeat of the transmission that Rick Harding had heard.

  “Why not?” Gabe asked.

  “There’s been a history of artificial transmissions going all the way back to the beginning of the space age. Somebody hears something but they never hear a follow-up.”

  Gabe nodded. “I guess. But we knew before we came out here that it would be a long shot. What else have we got?”

  “So we go to this place, listen, and when we don’t hear anything, we launch your portable radio telescope and go back home. Is that the plan?”

  “Yes.”

  • • •

  Transit time to the RK617 system was less than an hour. We surfaced about 400 million kilometers from a dim sun and immediately asked Belle to check for radio signals that might be artificial.

  She needed a minute. Then: “Nothing.”

  Coladia would have taken some time to locate. But there was no point in going there. “Keep listening,” I told Belle. “Let us know if you hear anything.”

  We spent the next several days reading, watching shows, doing workouts, and talking. I can’t remember much about the conversation. Mostly, I think, it was centered on what we’d do if we actually came across a living civilization somewhere. “It’s funny,” Gabe said at one point. “There’s something about sitting out here in the dark that brings reality front and center. The notion that Harding might have found aliens somewhere, and that it somehow resulted in their seizing Octavia, now seems even more ridiculous.”

  “I never thought we had a serious chance of finding anything.”

  He let me see that he was in full agreement. Moreover his lips pulled back, revealing teeth that were clamped down. Like a guy in pain. Or more likely feeling a sense of guilt. “Then why’d you come?”

  I laughed. “Gabe, if you discover an alien race, there’s no way I don’t want to be with you.”

  • • •

  Belle eventually located Coladia and we decided to take a look. “It’s not as if we have anything more compelling to do,” said Gabe.

  I aimed us in the general direction of the planet and Belle took us under again. We came out within 2 million klicks. Close enough.

  We’d overshot it and were on the daylight side. Coladia is a beautiful world. We approached it, looking out at wide oceans, drifting clouds, green continents, and vast mountain ranges. We counted seven moons. “How large is it?” asked Gabe. “The planet?”

  “A little bigger than Rimway.”

  “I wonder how something that small can possess so many moons? I guess we were right about the name. Belle, do you have its source?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I ran it while we were docked. It’s named after Wendy Coladi, the team leader of the first exploratory unit that came here. At the end of the last century, I believe.”

  “Oh,” said Gabe. “Then Rick Harding wasn’t the first guy to come out here?”

  “Apparently not,” Belle said.

  “Did they report any unusual radio transmissions?”

  “Nothing on the record.”

  I was concentrating on the cluster of moons. “It is a crowded sky, isn’t it?”

  Gabe nodded. “Yes.”

  “At the moment,” Belle continued, “we are still not hearing anything.” I almost got the impression she was smirking.

  “You think it’s a waste of time, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Do you really wish to know what I think?”

  “I suspect we know what you think,” said Gabe. “Why do you feel that way?”

  “All we have is a claim by a passenger that the pilot of his tour ship picked up a transmission that no one could account for. But the pilot never reported anything about a transmission. It seems clear there is nothing here for us.”

  “You’re probably right, Belle,” Gabe said. “But if major discoveries always came with clear signals, they wouldn’t stay undiscovered very long.”

  I couldn’t help thinking that, if we did manage this, if we actually brought it off, it would be only the second time during the nine thousand years we’d had interstellar travel that we’d discovered someone else. Someone, that is, who was still alive and functioning and not back hanging out in caves. If it happened, Alex would be devastated that he had not accompanied us. Gabe and I would make history while he was at home playing around with a research station that had fallen into a black hole.

  “Well.” Gabe took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to retire for the balance of the night. Belle, let us know if you pick up anything.” He wished me good night and headed to his cabin. The Belle-Marie travels on Andiquar time, which was approaching midnight.

  I let my head sink onto the back of the seat. “You know, Belle,” I said, “you take a negative position on this, and I guess so do I. But I suspect you’re just like me.”

  “How would that be, Chase?”

  “I think we’d both love to see this mission succeed.”

  “Of course I would. But I’m just not inclined to get my hopes up.” She was silent for a minute. Then: “Are you going to go back to bed also?”

  “In a little while.”

  “You’re concerned that we might pick up something and you won’t be at the helm when it happens.”

  “You think that matters to me?”

  “Of course it does. I know you pretty well after all this time. I know what turns you on.”

  • • •

  The galactic silence remained unbroken. We got the portable satellite out and Gabe adjusted the settings. “I need a safe orbit for it,” he said.

  Belle responded: “I have been doing an analysis. A solar orbit would best serve for stability.”

  “Thank you, Belle.” He looked at me and shook his head. “She’s good.”

  “Gabe,” I said, “it can separate routine traffic from an alien transmission, right?”

  “Sure.” He tapped an index finger on the sphere. “At least that’s what the people at Datatech claim. I’m not convinced. I mean, they don’t have much call for these things. And the way they looked at me . . .” He took a deep breath. “It was pretty obvious they thought I was a nutcase. But that doesn’t mean their receivers won’t get the job done.” We took the Belle-Marie well away from the planet. When Belle informed us we were clear, we went down to the cargo bay.

  I ran a couple of tests first to ensure the sphere was in radio contact with us and that the hypercomm was working. If it detected anything, it would notify us if it could find us, and simultaneously send a message to Chippewa, which would relay it to Skydeck. Everything checked out. I placed it in the ejector and informed Belle we were ready to launch.

  “Very good,” she said. “Launch at your convenience.”

  We sent it on its way. “Where to next?” I asked Gabe, expecting to hear that we would start for home.

  “As long as we’re here,” he said, “Let’s take a closer look at the planet.”

  XX.

  Nature, red in tooth and claw

  —ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, “IN MEMORIAM,” 1849 CE

  We dropped out of orbit and came down over a sunlit sea. A few clouds drifted through the sky, and to the north there were flickers of lightning. We left the brewing storm behind, passed over a couple of small islands, and eventually came in across a shoreline. We were approaching a group of low hills covered with trees when we saw a creature that might make human settlement unlikely: It appeared to be a giant serpent. It was difficult to be certain because th
e head and maybe thirty meters of neck rose out of the branches. The rest of the animal was hidden from view.

  “I think we should probably leave this one alone,” I said.

  Gabe chuckled. “You don’t think this would be a good hunting location?”

  “Not unless they have some serious artillery.” Belle put a picture of a flying lizard on the monitor. And a commotion of some sort broke out in a cluster of treetops. We couldn’t determine what was causing it but we saw tentacles.

  The hills eventually subsided into a broad prairie. We passed over another ocean and strings of islands and then we were back over land again, marshes this time. One stretch of it was covered with giant worms. Something dived out of the sky and grabbed one of them.

  “Yuck,” I said.

  We left the sun behind and crossed over to the night side, where we spent most of our time staring at the moons. Moons are always a bit more spectacular from orbit than they are from a planetary surface. I’m not sure why that is, but the show that evening was breathtaking. Six of them were in the sky, a variety of sizes, ranging from a baseball to an oversized balloon. The big one looked so close that it was hard to believe it was stable.

  “I’d be interested,” said Gabe, “in hearing George Tindle explain how this happened. Astronomers claim there are limits to how many moons a terrestrial-sized world can have. I think they tend to get in each other’s way, and of course gravity is a factor.”

  “Who’s George Tindle?” I asked.

  “He’s an old friend. An astronomer at the Collier Array near Castleman’s World. He’d love this place.”

  Belle got pictures, but they wouldn’t be close to the experience of actually seeing the moons. We knew from our earlier perspective they were nothing more than cratered rocks. But on that evening they were bright globes floating through a starlit night sky. I remembered occasional evenings at home with guys who tried to bring one of Rimway’s two moons into a romantic frame. I can’t say whether Tindle would actually have loved that place, but I’m pretty sure the guys would have.

  • • •

  I couldn’t sleep that night. I sent a message to Chad informing him that the mission was getting longer than we’d expected. But that I was looking forward to seeing him when we got home, though I wasn’t sure when that would be. Eventually I got up and walked out into the passenger cabin. Gabe was already there, staring out at sunlight. He pointed at the scrambled egg breakfast he was eating. Did I want some?