Octavia Gone

by Jack McDevitt

  He knew there was no way I’d back off that kind of proposal. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But I was in a corner. “Belle,” I said, “do you see a planet in the habitable zone?”

  “I do not. But that doesn’t mean much. I’ve been concentrating my attention on the Dyson Sphere. Is that really what it’s called?”

  “Yes,” said Gabe.

  “Interesting. If you wish me to search for planets, we will need some time.”

  Gabe couldn’t take his eyes off the display. “Let’s concentrate on the Dyson Sphere for now.”

  “As you wish.”

  Gabe could not have looked happier. “The additional transmissions. Can we tell if they’re in the same language?”

  “I haven’t really had time to do a general analysis. But judging from what I’ve seen so far, I suspect they are one language. Or at least, they were.”

  “What do you mean, ‘were’?”

  “They have been shutting down over the last few minutes.”

  “Since we arrived . . . ?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “Gabe,” I said, “I think it would be prudent to leave.”

  He crunched down on his teeth again. I hate it when he does that. “Belle, are you detecting any movement anywhere? Any vehicles?”

  “Negative, Gabe.”

  “It’s only been a short time since we got here,” I said. “They haven’t really had time to react.”

  “Other than close off their communications. What blows my mind is how whoever lives here could have put those things so close to the sun.”

  “The transmissions are now stopping,” said Belle. “The sky is going silent.”

  “They want us to leave,” Gabe said.

  “I agree. Absolutely. If they’d wanted to say hello to us they’d have done so. I think we should take the hint.”

  “I didn’t mean we should just bail out.”

  “Oh.”

  “Chase, you don’t really want to leave, do you?”

  I did. I saw no way, if we proceeded to poke around, that this could end happily. But I’d already let Gabe know how I felt, and I couldn’t bring myself to insist that we pull out. If I did that, he’d always remember that I’d screwed up what should have been a historic discovery. “Your call,” I said.

  “Thank you. I know this isn’t easy for you, Chase. But we’ll take every precaution, okay?”

  “I’ve located two planets so far,” said Belle. “One is in the habitable zone. But it’s on the other side of the sun.”

  XXIII.

  Oh, to have a cabin on some lonely world,

  A quiet place beneath a distant sun,

  Where news of politics

  And appeals to purchase medications

  And reactivate my life with youth-restoring creams

  Can never touch my aerial.

  That is where I would live the rest of my days.

  —WALFORD CANDLES, “TIME AND TIDE,” 1214

  The planet was on the outside edge of the habitable zone, a world that probably would have been considerably more chilly than Rimway. We were still hearing nothing as we approached. “I don’t think many, if any, of the transmissions were coming from here,” said Belle. “There seemed to be numerous locations.” It was rocky and barren, not much bigger than a large moon. There was no snow or ice, but it looked cold. And dismal. We saw no sign of life, no greenery, nothing moving. “Do we wish to establish an orbit?” she asked.

  “I don’t see any point in it,” said Gabe. We were just turning away when Belle told us she’d found a second world in the zone. “It’s considerably closer to the sun,” she said. “Temperatures will be better. And it has a large moon.”

  We needed an additional few days to reach it. The radio transmissions didn’t come back. Whatever the source, it was clear they weren’t comfortable with us in the area. We spent our time trying to distract ourselves, reading, working out, while we let Belle watch for activity. We didn’t waste any time pretending we weren’t worried about what lay ahead. But Gabe’s position remained rock solid: “We just don’t have a choice about this.”

  As we got closer, we saw several large dish antennas drifting through the night. “I can’t know for certain,” said Belle, “but I suspect they are at the Lagrange points.” Those were stable positions maintained by the gravity of the moon and the planet. And they were probably receivers connected to the Dyson objects orbiting the sun. They’d have been picking up solar energy, which was then relayed to collectors on the ground.

  Gabe seemed increasingly less sure of his decision to come in close. I suspected that, if I weren’t along, he’d have canceled the project and gone home. But he didn’t want to play the quitter in front of Tori Kolpath’s daughter. The truth, probably, was that neither of us, traveling alone, would have gone any closer.

  The world was green. It had oceans and ice caps and, no surprise, cities. But we did get a jolt: we were coming in from the sunlit side, but a portion of the dark side was visible. It was completely dark. No lights whatever. “It’s probably jungle. Or ocean.”

  The planet was about the same size as Rimway, with large mountain ranges, a lot of rivers, and some enormous lakes. As we drew closer, we focused on the cities. They were dominated by tall, polished buildings that sometimes narrowed gradually along the upper stories, transforming into spires. Others topped off into landing pads. The buildings were surrounded by streets and smaller structures and broad parks. “They have power,” said Belle.

  We noticed also that as the planet rotated and cities fell into darkness, no lights came on.

  We saw more dish antennas on the rooftops. “There doesn’t seem to be anything moving,” Gabe said. “The streets look empty.” So were the skies and the ocean, mountain roads and harbors and rivers. There was no sign of activity.

  “It has some satellites,” said Belle. “Not many, though. I’d estimate about fifty.”

  “Anything sending us a message?”

  “We’re getting complete silence, Captain.”

  “Okay. If you see anything coming our way, let us know immediately.”

  “Of course. I can see no indication of danger. But this is only at first glance. And there’s something else.”

  “What’s that?” asked Gabe.

  “There appears to be a habitation on the moon.” She put it on the display. There was a dome and, connected by a tube, a small rectangular building. What was probably a launchpad lay off to one side. Three large dish antennas were located on the ground about three hundred meters away. There was nothing on the launchpad.

  “Where do you want to go first, Gabe? Down and look at the cities, or check out the moonbase? Or maybe just clear out and head for home?”

  “Why would we head for home?”

  “I think we’ve answered the question we came here to resolve. Harding found an advanced civilization. Do you think we should stop and say hello?”

  “Of course we should. Chase, they probably gave him an award. They were apparently excited to receive an offworld visitor.” He grinned. “Maybe we’ll get some recognition too.”

  “I’m serious, Gabe.”

  “So am I. But okay, you have a point. Let’s just be careful. Take a look at the moonbase before we do anything else. We’re less likely to run into an angry crowd there.” He was mocking me, though he was as concerned as I was.

  “Belle,” I said, “are we getting any sign of activity from the moon?”

  “There is electrical power in the dome.”

  The sun was in the sky so, even if lights were on, we might be missing them. “All right,” I said. “Let’s go take a look. I’ve got the controls.”

  We were about two hours out. I checked to make sure the ship’s blasters were functional. They were there primarily as a defense against asteroids. I’d never used them. An asteroid should never get close enough that it’s necessary to use blasters. If it happens, they told us at flight school, it’s a signal for the shi
p’s owner to get rid of the pilot.

  Gabe stayed on the bridge with me. We drew closer without arousing any visible reaction either from the dome or from the planet.

  Eventually we went into orbit around the moon. The sun and the planet floated in the sky amid a mass of stars. When we got to the back side of the moon, where neither the sun nor the world could be seen, the stars brightened. We sat quietly, not saying much. When the dome reappeared, we turned the scopes on it and went back to watching for a reaction. Anything: lights coming on, radio transmission, somebody opening one of three hatches and looking up at us. But we saw nothing. The power levels inside the dome didn’t change. The hatches never opened.

  It was located on flat ground, close to a crater. “What do you think?” Gabe asked.

  “If we’re going to go down, let’s do it on the next orbit.” Get it over with. We sat on the bridge for a while, looking down as the lunar surface passed underneath. Then finally we went down to the cargo bay and got into our pressure suits. We took our seats in the lander, put the helmets behind us, and depressurized the cargo bay. When we were ready to go, I told Belle.

  “Launch time approaching,” she said. “About eight minutes.”

  “Good. If you see any activity on the planet, especially anything coming this way, let us know.”

  “Will do, Captain. The dome should be coming up over the horizon shortly.”

  I turned to Gabe. “You ready, boss?”

  “I guess that makes this officially my decision, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh yes.” We climbed into the lander and belted down.

  Belle informed us that the dome was again visible.

  “Any lights or anything?”

  “Everything looks the same, Captain.”

  I fastened a link on my belt so Belle would be able to see whatever we did. Gabe and I were wishing each other luck when she came back. “Recommend launch in two minutes.”

  “Make it happen, Belle. We’re ready to go.”

  The launch doors opened; the cradle lifted the lander and moved us outside. I started the engine. “Release in thirty seconds,” she said.

  She did a countdown for the final ten seconds while I activated the antigravs. Then she turned us loose. We began descending through the vacuum. Gabe was leaning forward, trying to watch the moonbase. I spent my time thinking about what I’d do if, at the last second, one of the doors opened. “It depends on whether they point something at us,” said Gabe.

  “I didn’t realize I was thinking out loud.”

  “I suspect we’ve both had the same issue on our minds.”

  Moons look pretty much the same everywhere. Rocks, craters, ridges, flat gray terrain, and not much else. Finally we touched down. We were about a hundred meters from the dome. Close enough.

  We got out of our seats, put on helmets, and checked the radios. Then we went over to the air lock and I opened the inner hatch. We both got in. I closed the door, depressurized, and Gabe opened the outer hatch. There was still no movement from the dome as we climbed down out of the lander. I left the outer hatch open in case we had to leave in a hurry.

  We kept a close eye on the ground but there was no sign of footprints or of anything else.

  Both the dome and the rectangular structure connected to it were gray, a somewhat darker tint than the surface. We chose the closest of the three dome hatches and walked toward it. It was probably four and a half meters high, suggesting that the occupants might be considerably taller than we were. It looked as if it had originally been white, but it was somewhat smeared and had become a dusty gray.

  “Holy cats,” said Gabe. He was inclined in this kind of situation to check conditions in all directions. He’d been looking behind us.

  That was all I needed. I jumped and turned around to see if we were being attacked. One of the antennas was moving. I stood with a dropped jaw and watched it swing toward the sun.

  I can’t answer for Gabe, but I froze at that point. Nothing else was happening. The antenna stopped, remained still for two or three minutes, and then resumed its original position. “Well,” said Gabe, “we finally have a sign of life.” We started again for the door. When we got close, he held out his left arm. “Stay behind me,” he said.

  I did. There was no knob or latch, but the frame housed a button, high over my head on the right. Were they right-handed too? Gabe went up to it and knocked. It was one of the bravest things I’d ever seen. If the door had opened I think I’d have jumped a meter. I pictured the two of us trying to run back to the lander in the pressure suits. “Gabe,” I said, “there’s a button.”

  “I see it.” He made no move to use it.

  “Okay.”

  He knocked again. The thing was an air lock, of course, so it would take a minute or so before the door could be opened. But that would likely be preceded by activity inside. Which we would not be able to hear.

  We couldn’t see the other doors, so I backed away a few steps, which still didn’t provide visibility. But it could at least prevent a total surprise. I also kept an eye on the antennas. I couldn’t help wondering how the people at Earth’s moonbase would have felt had aliens shown up and come knocking. Which brought Octavia to mind.

  “I don’t think,” Gabe said, “anybody’s home. Or maybe they’re as scared of us as . . .” He went no further.

  “We could try the other doors.”

  He knocked again. “Let’s give it a little more time. Then maybe push the button.”

  I wondered how long it had been since anything had set down on the launchpad. The terrestrial moonbase, of course, was now a museum. When I was there with Alex a few months earlier, it had been crowded with visitors. This place didn’t look as if anybody had ever dropped by.

  We waited another minute or two and finally Gabe reached up and pressed the button. There was no immediate way to know whether it was working. Gabe held his left hand against the door in an effort to determine if anything was happening inside. Then without warning the door swung outward, revealing an air lock.

  If we’d been hesitant before, the sight of that empty cubicle, sealed off by a second door, introduced a sense that we were being careless. “What do you think?” asked Gabe.

  I had a cutter, so we didn’t need to worry about getting trapped in the air lock. “We’ve come this far,” I said.

  “I know.” I could hear the reluctance in his voice. Which told me he retained the good sense I’d always known. But we were committed, and the stakes were too high to walk away.

  He went in and I followed. The cubicle was large enough to provide space for about six people. The outer hatch closed with no help from us. A ceiling light came on. And I became aware of air pressure starting to build. Gabe was facing the inner door. He kept me behind him.

  I didn’t see another button anywhere. Presumably everything was automatic once you started the process. The inner door should open on its own as soon as the air pressure matched whatever was normal in the interior.

  It took about a minute. Then the door swung wide. More lights came on and we were looking across an empty room. There were a couple of oversized chairs. The interior was circular and lined with display screens and what looked like communication equipment. A few doors lined the walls. And on the other side of the dome a passageway opened probably into the other building. Nothing moved. The temperature was cool but much warmer than outside.

  We walked over and looked at the communication equipment: microphones, speakers, wiring, probably an amplifier, a keyboard. Gabe was studying the keys.

  “You recognize the characters?” he asked, thinking of the symbols on Rick Harding’s trophy.

  “Not really. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them.”

  “It’s possible.” We were both watching the exit from the passageway.

  “Let’s go look,” I said.

  • • •

  The attendant building dome was also empty. It contained eight sets of living quarters, a combined gall
ey and dining area, and a couple of large rooms that probably served simply for hanging out. There were clothes in some of the rooms, large sizes again. The owners were bipeds, but we found no pictures to reveal what they looked like. There was extensive electronic equipment. Washrooms had toilet and shower facilities, sinks and mirrors. Cabinets contained paste and medications. The paste might have been for teeth, or it was possibly a disinfectant. We opened faucets and got running water, though not much more than a dribble. And it was cold.

  We came out the same way we’d gone in. Neither of us was saying much. We returned to the lander, took a last look around, and lifted off. The world in the sky still floated in the same place, almost directly overhead. “It probably never moves,” said Gabe.

  “That is correct,” Belle said. “The moon is in tidal lock, which for satellites is quite common.”

  That night I sent another message to Chad: We’ll be a while yet. Sorry it’s taking so long. But everything’s okay.

  XXIV.

  O solitude! Where are the charms

  That sages have seen in thy face?

  Better dwell in the midst of alarms

  Than reign in this horrible place.

  —WILLIAM COWPER, VERSES SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK, 1782 CE

  The planet was lush and green and alive. We looked through the scopes and saw animals everywhere. Birds fluttered through the skies and four-legged creatures wandered in the sunlight. But there was still no sign of vehicles. No bipeds moved across the bridges linking skyscrapers. The roads were empty, no ships rode the vast oceans, and no planes were visible anywhere. Stranger still, nothing moved in the small villages scattered across the countryside.

  “What is going on here?” I said.

  Gabe nodded. “I thought at first that maybe they did underground transport, but that makes no sense. It wouldn’t even explain why all the beaches are empty.”

  His expression suggested his shoes were too tight.

  We were approaching orbit. Normally, I’d have told Belle to take us in, but we were still waiting for something to happen and I wanted to have my hands on the controls if we got a surprise. So I eased us into a low orbit just above the atmosphere and as much away from clouds as I could manage.