Octavia Gone

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Octavia Gone Page 25

by Jack McDevitt


  “There wouldn’t be much point, Chase. I can’t imagine a serious celebration being any different just because the amplifiers are together in the same room.” He went silent, and then came back. “You look amused.”

  “No. I just think not being able to include physical contact in a relationship loses something.”

  “I understand. That inclination was also present in our bipeds.”

  “I think you miss a lot,” said Gabe.

  “I realize that emotion is involved for you. But I should assure you it is for us as well. Do you think we could stage this if we did not feel a passion for what you and Gabe and Sayla have done? And you might consider our perspective: You have a primary desire to connect with the bodies of others. But you can never be sure what is running through the mind of a partner. We, however, are completely immersed in one another. We just don’t need the physical side.”

  • • •

  The celebration went on for hours. “You know,” Gabe said, “one quality these guys have that I hadn’t noticed: they never seem to sleep.” I eventually went back to my cabin and crashed. I’m pretty sure Gabe did the same though he always maintained he kept going until the end.

  “They made some speeches,” he told me later. “That’s probably the wrong word. They just bubbled with enthusiasm and passion about how much they love Sayla and Ark. And us. I wanted to have Belle record it for you, but Ark asked that we not do that. He didn’t want any record of all this going back home with us.”

  It was still happening when I woke up. Eventually, though, we entered orbit around Kaleska and it was finally time to stop. Time for Sayla to go home. We said good-bye to everybody and got into the lander. Ark did not physically accompany us, but he had access to me through my link. We descended onto the edge of a town that seemed lost in a mountain range and touched down in a parking area almost filled with antigravs similar to the ones we’d seen on the rooftops in the city. The buildings were small, mostly one or two stories. They had a polished metallic appearance, with a copper hue. Dish antennas were everywhere.

  Several robots came out of a circular structure, lined up, and stood without moving as we got out and walked in through the front doors. “Turn right,” said Ark.

  I was carrying Sayla. “I can’t believe I’m back here,” she said.

  “Well,” said Ark, “how does it feel to be home?”

  “It’s wonderful.”

  “How long were you out there?” asked Gabe.

  “I lost count. A long time.”

  “Who lives here?” I asked.

  “I do,” said Sayla.

  “Anybody else?”

  “A few people. And three or four bipeds.”

  “I wish we could say hello,” said Gabe.

  “If you’re talking about the bipeds, it’s not a good idea,” said Ark. “You would scare them. We’ve taken precautions to ensure it doesn’t happen.”

  Gabe was clearly unhappy, but he let it go. We walked down a corridor, made a turn, and a door opened. We went into a room. It was spacious, considerably larger than a human’s apartment would be. Large violet curtains were drawn across the windows. There was a sofa, armchairs, a couple of side tables, and something with a display screen. “It was designed originally for bipeds,” Sayla explained. “One of these days I’m going to have it redone. I probably should have taken care of that while I was away.”

  The apartment looked as if it had been cleaned and straightened that morning. “They were obviously taking care of me, though.”

  I was holding Sayla again, looking around, wondering where she wanted me to put her.

  “Over there,” she said. “In the regulator.” It was a frame on one of the side tables, near a display. I fit her into the frame and she became secured. Presumably magnetized. “Good,” she said. “Can you angle it a bit? To the right.” It provided a better view of the display. “Thank you, Chase. For everything. And you too, Gabe.”

  We stayed and talked for a while, allowing time for the Belle-Marie to complete an orbit. She told us she was sorry we were going away and that we would probably never see each other again. That if we ever returned, we should contact her. And finally it was time to leave. No parting hugs. No lifting of a glass. Just a quiet good-bye. I suppose Ark had a point about accessible minds, but I was grateful for my physical dimension.

  • • •

  We rendezvoused with the ship and were on our way again. “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Well,” said Ark, “have you by any chance changed your mind about going home?”

  “Not really,” said Gabe. “I think we’ve resolved the issue we came here for. I can tell you in all honesty that I would love to take back with us some artifacts from this civilization. For example, a history of what’s happened here?”

  “No, I’m sorry. We can’t allow that.”

  “I guess neither of us is in a position to change his mind. I assume we can’t have any photos either?”

  “I wish I could accommodate you, Gabe. I do not want you to think we don’t trust you. But there’d be no point in taking any part of our culture home if you weren’t going to share it with someone. Even if you have every intention of keeping it to yourself, it would probably get out eventually. As did the trophy.”

  “I understand.”

  “I wish I could give you everything you want. But I cannot. The consequences, if things went wrong, would be too severe. We have some museums, still stocked with hardcover books, if you’d like to look. And some sculptures. Including some of the early gods. They remain, most of them, in excellent condition. And there are other pieces of art I suspect you would enjoy.”

  Gabe thought about it, and finally shook his head. No. “We’ll have to pass. It would be too painful to look through treasures that we couldn’t share with the world back home.” He delivered a barely audible “damn” under his breath. “I think we’ve been gone long enough.” He sat for a few more seconds, wrapped in indecision. “Chase,” he said, “we should take Ark back to his home. And then get moving.”

  XXIX.

  When we have cast aside all possible explanations, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true. But what if nothing remains?

  —AUBREY CARSON, FICTIONAL DETECTIVE CREATED BY ISAAC GLOVER, IN THE ADVENTURE OF THE LOST CLOUD, 8427 CE

  I called Chad from Skydeck. “We’re home, Chad. Sorry it took so long.” We’d been gone three months.

  “Are you okay?”

  “We’re fine. Just glad to be back.” It was strictly an audio exchange. No visuals.

  “Thank God. I was seriously worried something had gone wrong. So what the hell happened out there? What was it all about?”

  “It was no big deal, Chad. Just a downed lander and some planetary exploration.”

  “What downed lander?”

  “We don’t have many details. It was on the ground a long time. Probably thousands of years.”

  “And that’s it?” He sounded annoyed. “That’s what took all this time?”

  “Yes.” I wanted to change the subject. “Chad, we’ll be getting back on the ground later today. Do you want to get together tomorrow for lunch?”

  “I’m a bit busy right now. But yeah, sure, I can manage it. Pick you up at home? Or the country house?”

  • • •

  “So where were you?” asked Alex.

  “I told you,” said Gabe. “Checking out a wrecked ship. I showed you the artifacts.”

  Alex looked in my direction. We were in Gabe’s quarters, surrounded by his luggage and the artifacts we’d recovered from the wrecked vehicle. “What else is going on?” he asked. The question was directed at me.

  “That’s it,” I said. “Listen, I’ve got a lot to catch up on. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

  “Stay,” said Alex. “We’ve always trusted each other.” He eased down onto the sofa. “You guys are hiding something. You want to tell me what it is?”

  The conversation continu
ed in that vein for several minutes. Gabe and I sank into chairs while Alex poured coffee for everybody. “We promised we would tell no one,” Gabe said.

  “Promised who?”

  “Some people we found.”

  “Humans?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, Gabe. You have any idea what artifacts from that place would be worth?”

  “I’m fully aware of that, Alex. We didn’t bring anything back.”

  He looked puzzled. “How did that happen?”

  “They don’t want us talking about the place. And I guess we’ve already violated our promise to them.”

  “You saying you don’t trust me? After all we’ve been through?”

  “It’s not a matter of trust, Alex. We gave our word.”

  “And what did you get in turn?”

  “Let’s just let it go, okay?”

  “You know I can ask Belle where you’ve been?”

  “You can.” Gabe took a deep breath. “But she’s sworn to secrecy.”

  He looked over at me. “You in on this too, Chase?” I didn’t need to respond. He saw the answer. “Okay,” he said. “I understand.”

  It was time to change the subject. “How are you doing with Octavia?” I asked. “You figure it out yet?”

  “Not yet. I’ve spent a lot of time researching Housman and Womack. And talking to Womack’s avatar.”

  “Housman didn’t have one?”

  “No.”

  “Have you picked up anything at all?”

  “Not really. Womack seemed to be the more curious of the two. He wanted to get into the science, to understand why the quantum world operates the way it does. Why wormholes actually form. Housman was more interested in making a reputation for himself. He was annoyed that Newton lived at a time when nobody understood about gravity. Or anything else. He says the scientific giants, Galileo, Tycho Brahe, Descartes, weren’t necessarily all that smart. They just had the advantage of being alive at a time when nobody knew anything. So it was fairly easy to make discoveries. He was determined to find a wormhole, which he thought would lock in his name with the others.”

  “And look what happened,” I said.

  “Anyway, Chase, I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “You were going to set up a conversation with Karen Randall. Charlotte Hill’s friend.”

  “Oh. I guess I got caught up in this other stuff. I’ll call her today.”

  “Good. No hurry. Don’t bring her in on the circuit. See if you can arrange for us to take her to dinner somewhere. Anyplace that’s convenient.” That was typical of him. The reality of a person didn’t always come through with modern technology. He believed a physical presence could be much more revealing.

  “Okay. You said ‘us.’ You want me there too?”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Chase.”

  • • •

  Chad showed up on time next morning. He seemed a bit standoffish, but he looked good. His hair was windblown, a smile was playing on his lips, and his eyes were gleaming. He told me how relieved he was that we were home. “I guess this is the way life is,” he said, “when you get mixed up with the planet’s loveliest pilot.” He welcomed me into his arms.

  We went to the Lyrica, a quaint little restaurant overlooking Mount Ecott. “I’d have been more comfortable,” he said as we strolled through the door, “if we could have communicated better. If I could have sent you a simple message just asking if you were okay, and gotten a reply. . . .”

  “I understand, Chad. I’m sorry it was hard on you. It’s difficult, and expensive, to try to communicate with a ship that’s light-years away.”

  “But you were able to send me messages.”

  “We knew where Rimway was at any given time. But you don’t usually know where the ship is, so nobody knows where to send the signal.”

  “Couldn’t you have told them, Chase?”

  “If we were staying in one place, yes. Let’s just let it go, okay?”

  “All right. I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.”

  • • •

  Gabe and I both got checked out by doctors to make sure the radiation hadn’t done any damage. We were pronounced okay, but my doctor was clearly unhappy and told me I should stop the nonsense. “Why on earth,” he asked, “would you want to get that close to a sun?”

  We’d made up a story about lost antiquities that was as close to what really happened as we could. We claimed to have found a lost interstellar orbiting a star whose name Gabe made up. He got the same lecture, and we both assured our physicians we wouldn’t do anything like that again.

  • • •

  It took a couple of days to find Karen Randall. But eventually the three of us were able to get together at a place called Manny’s. It was located across the street from the Oberley Theater, which at the time was undergoing reconstruction. I’d never been there before. Karen was already seated at a table when Alex and I went in. She raised a hand to catch our attention.

  I did the introductions and we sat down. “It’s good to see you again, Chase,” she said. “And to meet you, Alex. Do you have any idea what happened to her? To Charlotte? And the station?” She was wearing a soft green button-down blouse with a collar. The color matched her eyes. She was obviously a bit awed by Alex.

  “I wish we did, Karen,” he said. “We were hoping you might be able to help.”

  “I can’t imagine how I could do that.”

  The table invited us to order. We did sandwiches, sides, and a round of beer. It thanked us and said the food would be there shortly. I couldn’t resist wondering aloud what kind of life an AI in a restaurant would have. It was a mistake, provoking an expression from Karen that made clear she thought my mind had come loose. But she didn’t say anything, substituting instead a tolerant smile.

  “I understand you had a continuing correspondence with Charlotte while she was at Octavia,” Alex said.

  “Yes, I did. Though I thought of it more as occasional than continuing.”

  “Did she ever say anything that indicated there was a problem of any sort?”

  “Well, I think Charlotte got lonely sometimes. And they weren’t always happy with the menu they had. But no, I don’t recall anything that could have been connected with a hazard.”

  “It’s possible, Karen, you could have picked up something without being aware of it. What kind of messages were you receiving? Were they visuals?”

  “No. They were audio. It cost too much to send visuals. There were a couple, though, a picture of the space station that she took from the shuttle. And one of the station’s interior. Del Housman was posing with her and, umm, Archie Goldman in the background. Oh, and there was a picture of the black hole. More or less. I think she took that one from the shuttle too.”

  “You mean Archie Womack,” Alex said.

  “Yes. That’s right. Womack. Sorry.”

  “Charlotte must have been pretty happy to have been selected for that mission.”

  “I guess. She didn’t talk much about it. Mostly, I suspect, because for the first year or so, they didn’t get any results. It was only toward the end that they found the wormhole. I didn’t get the impression she was all that happy. She enjoyed having people around her. I was shocked when she first told me what she’d signed on for. I mean, she liked going out. She spent a fair amount of time on the beach. I never understood how she managed to get her degrees. Most of us have to invest a lot of time to accomplish what she did. I guess the reality is that she was just seriously smart. You know she was a pretty good chess player too, right?”

  “We’ve heard,” Alex said.

  The sandwiches showed up. Karen took a bite from hers and put it down. “She got pretty close to Rick Harding. He was a committed chess enthusiast too.”

  “I hadn’t heard that,” I said. “Who usually won? Do you know?”

  “She never mentioned the results. But if Harding was winning, he’s the only pe
rson I know who managed it. And I suspect if that had been happening, she’d have said something.”

  “Did she ever indicate she was tired of being out there? That she would have liked to come home?”

  “She implied it. But I don’t recall her ever actually saying that. I remember she talked sometimes about things she missed, guys, Tully’s, sunlight. About how nice it would be to have an occasional stranger show up and say hello.”

  “What’s Tully’s?” Alex asked.

  “It’s a bar located near the university. It was a good place to meet guys. In fact, that’s where I met my husband.”

  Eventually the conversation wandered into other areas, Karen’s career doing PR work for the Andiquar police; her husband, who was an electronic technician; her infatuation with tennis; and finally Gabe. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like getting pulled out of the Capella and discovering that eleven years had passed.”

  We finished our lunches, and Karen thanked us as Alex picked up the tab. “I know this hasn’t helped you,” she said. “I wish I could have given you something.”

  Alex assured her she had. “You described her life on the station. The fact that she had no serious problems eliminates one area of inquiry. Did she ever mention Reggie Greene?”

  “No. I knew the guy. And I know the stories about him. But she never brought him up.”

  We left the restaurant and walked out into the parking lot. “There might be one other thing,” she said. “It’s so trivial I’ve been reluctant to mention it. At one point, Charlotte indicated there was something going on. She didn’t specify what it was. She said it would probably go away but that if it didn’t she’d send me details later. Either to me or to Poliks.”

  “Who’s Poliks?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t know anyone with that name.”

  “Did she ever mention it again? The name?”

  “No. Not that I can recall. ”

  “Did you ever ask her for any details?”

  “I think what I did later was tell her I hoped that it had cleared up. But I don’t recall her ever saying anything about it again.”

 

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