• • •
We got the suits. Alex spent most of our travel time going over everything we had on the cannon, what the layout of the control area looked like, where the power unit was, where the crew quarters were.
I’d expected the cannon would be easy to find. As artificial objects go, it was probably the largest ever put in orbit. Nevertheless we needed two days to locate it. But I guess a narrow tube six hundred kilometers long, in the kind of environment you can expect near a black hole, just doesn’t stand out much. But we found it.
We had thought there might be some researchers, but it was obvious from the moment we arrived that the thing was empty. Coordinating with its air lock presented a challenge because it was tumbling. But Belle locked it down and we changed into the armored suits. Then we went into the cargo bay. “You ready?” Alex asked.
“Let’s go,” I said.
We took cutters. We didn’t expect to need them to get into the cannon, but we couldn’t be sure. Then we strapped on air tanks and jetpacks. I put a link on my belt so Belle could follow us, and we added wrist lamps. Then Alex went into the air lock. Technically, we could both have fit despite all the gear, but it was something of a squeeze, so we elected to go one at a time. We had the jetpacks, by the way, as a safety measure. If either of us jumped and missed the target, we wanted to have a way back.
Belle took us closer to the cannon and Alex waited for her to clear us before he opened the outer hatch. Finally she said we were ready. “Be careful,” she added. “I can’t maintain a parallel position.”
Alex climbed out onto the hull—we had magnetic boots—closed the outside hatch, shut off the magnets, and made his jump. I entered the lock a few minutes later and followed. Belle had gotten within a few meters of the cannon’s air lock.
Alex opened the cannon’s hatch and was waiting on the hull, signaling with his wrist light for me to come ahead. The ultimate gentleman. I jumped across and landed smoothly. Their air lock was considerably larger than ours, obviously designed for people in armored suits. He stood aside until I got into the lock, then followed me in and closed the door. We started the pressurization and a minute later opened the inside hatch and watched lights come on. Followed immediately by a slow rise in gravity. We were in a relatively small control room.
There were no windows, of course, because of the radiation. I checked the reading on the air level. “Life support’s good,” I said. “But we need to give it a few minutes.”
We couldn’t do much while we waited. Alex wandered around, opening drawers and cabinets, looking for anything unusual. Finally life support got to normal and we took off our helmets. “Verona,” he said, “you active?”
“Verona is the AI?” I asked.
“Yes.” There was only silence. The blue light that would have signaled her presence stayed dark. We opened the cabinet where we expected to find her. But the device was gone. “I guess,” said Alex, “I didn’t really expect to find it, but I was hoping we might get a break.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but if there’d been a problem, the AI in the station could have passed information over here.”
“That wouldn’t have worked,” Alex said. “During the period the station’s communications were shut off by the black hole, the cannon was on the other side of the thing so they couldn’t have communicated with each other.” He shook his head. “Whoever, whatever, did this, they certainly timed it well. But that doesn’t mean the AI doesn’t have something.”
“How do you mean?”
“If there’d been trouble brewing, Charlotte would probably have heard some of the conversations. She and Housman were together in the cannon periodically. I’d be interested in hearing what they were talking about.”
“You mean hearing Verona tell us about the conversations.”
“Exactly.”
• • •
Two compartments were complete with washrooms, a galley, and a storage area. Both had clothes, linens, towels, and washcloths. We found combs, toothbrushes, and pills as well.
We went through everything, opening cabinets and closets, searching under beds, pillows, and sheets, examining clothes and shoes.
The galley had only eating utensils, prep and serving equipment, and frozen food. The storage area also provided nothing unusual. Finally we ran out of places to search.
“If Charlotte left a message,” Alex said, “I’d guess the investigators got it.”
“I don’t think there ever was a message. At least not here. I mean, how likely was she to use the name of the guy who’d designed the cabins? Karen Randall had no idea who the name referred to. In any case, why didn’t she just flat out tell Karen what was going on? It makes no sense.”
“I know,” Alex said, almost under his breath. “Let’s go home.”
“Yeah. Maybe we can get some help from Walton.”
• • •
Alex was not happy as we pulled away from the cannon. He sent a message to Gabe informing him that we had nothing.
After we submerged Alex sat for almost an hour just staring out into the darkness. Eventually he picked up a copy of Archie Womack’s Infinite Cosmos. I’d tried it on the way out but gave up pretty quickly. Physicists get off on extra dimensions and quantum echoes and I tend to get lost. The same thing happened with Alex. Eventually he put it down and shook his head. “Were you able to make anything of it?” he asked.
“No, it’s over my head. I can’t visualize most of that stuff he talks about.”
“I guess that’s the problem with a monkey brain.” He looked frustrated. “I’m sorry I wasted so much of your time, Chase.”
“Come on, Alex, if we hadn’t tried it we’d have been sitting back at the country house wondering what we might have missed. Relax.”
We didn’t try to watch any movies that first night, didn’t play any games, didn’t even talk about what we’d do when we got home. We sat and felt sorry for ourselves. I don’t know how else to describe it. “What we need,” Alex said, “is to take some time off. Go on vacation somewhere. In fact I think that’s exactly what we should do. Close down for a couple of weeks and maybe go to Surf City. You think Chad would be up for that?”
“Sounds like a good idea,” I said. But I couldn’t imagine it happening.
• • •
We stopped at Cormoral to refuel and return the armored suits, had dinner on the space station, and wandered through the concourse for a couple of hours. They had a bar with a stand-up routine. The comic was a woman, Gladys Evans, whom I’d never heard of before. She was brilliant, had everybody laughing, and sometimes in tears. It was a performance we both needed.
XXXIV.
Vision is the art of seeing things invisible.
—JONATHAN SWIFT, THOUGHTS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS, MORAL AND DIVERTING, 1706 CE
We arrived home at the start of a weekend, and Alex wasted no time sending Lashonda Walton a message: We just returned from KBX44. When convenient, I would like very much to speak with you.
Two days later, Jacob informed me we had a call from DPSAR. Alex was out of the building. “Put them through,” I said.
A young man appeared in my office. “Good morning. My name is Arthur Camden,” he said. “Is Alex Benedict available? I’m calling for the director.”
“Hello, Mr. Camden. Alex isn’t here at the moment. Can I help?”
“Can you connect with him?”
Alex didn’t like taking calls when he was out. He carried a link, but if I used it, I usually had to explain myself. “He’s in the middle of an interview.”
“Would you have Mr. Benedict call me when he gets in?”
“I will. He should be back shortly.”
Camden told me that would be fine and disappeared out of the room. I suspected this might be our last chance at moving forward.
He got back an hour later without having responded. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention,” he said. He made the call from my office. Camden apologized and explain
ed that the director wasn’t available.
“I’d like to set up an appointment with her when convenient. Can we arrange that?”
“Yes, sir. She should have some time tomorrow. Eleven o’clock sound okay?”
“Good. I’ll be there. And please inform her that my associate Chase Kolpath will also be present.”
“I’ll let her know.”
After they disconnected, I asked why he’d included me.
“In case I miss anything else, Chase.”
• • •
The Department of Planetary Survey and Astronomical Research is located in Hanover, about sixty kilometers south of Andiquar. When one considers the influence and sheer size of the organization, spread across eleven worlds, the structure that houses its Rimway branch comes as a surprise. It’s a three-story white marble building about the size of a small courthouse, surrounded by open fields. Doric pillars line its entrance beneath a gabled roof supporting several antennas.
Seven or eight skimmers were in the parking area when we arrived. We climbed out, passed between the pillars, and went inside. The doors closed behind us and a young woman in a green uniform blinked on and invited us to sit down. We were in a lounge. “How may I help you?” she asked.
Alex gave her our names and explained we were there to see Dr. Walton.
“I will inform her you are here,” she said. “Please make yourselves comfortable.”
She blinked off. The walls were covered with pictures of interstellars, space stations, planetary rings, nebulas, and, surprisingly, Walton standing arm in arm with a couple of Mutes. Side tables had displays that would have allowed us to watch approaching comets and docking starships. But we were given only a couple of minutes before a door opened and Arthur Camden entered. In the flesh this time. “Ms. Kolpath, it’s good to see you. And Dr. Benedict. Please come with me.”
Alex was about to correct the title but we were already on the move. Camden took us up one floor into an empty office. “The director,” he said, “will be with you in a minute.”
He went out and closed the door. Moments later a second door opened and Walton entered. “Hello, Alex,” she said. “It’s good to meet you. And Chase. Please make yourselves at home.”
“Good morning, Director,” Alex said.
She waved it away. “Lashonda, please.” She smiled at us, and there was no evading her amiability. She was not at all like the woman I remembered on The Bruce Colson Show. “So the two of you went out to the black hole. I assume you visited the cannon.”
“Yes, we did,” said Alex.
“I wish we could dissuade people from doing that. We’ve not really had a problem, but I’m just not comfortable with sightseers hanging around a black hole. Not that I’d think of you in that way.” She managed a smile that implied she’d appreciate it if we didn’t do it again. “Can I get you some coffee?”
That brought Arthur back in. When he was gone and we’d all started on the coffee, she sighed, signaling she knew what was coming and had long since tired of the subject. Nevertheless she asked what had brought us to see her.
“Do you have any theories,” asked Alex, “that would explain what happened to Octavia?”
She bit down on her lower lip. “You don’t waste any time getting to the point, do you?”
Alex didn’t reply, but simply sat with his coffee cup raised halfway, inviting her to respond.
“Let me turn this around, Alex,” she said. “You’ve been out there. I haven’t. Do you have any idea what happened?”
“Lashonda, if I knew the answer to that, we wouldn’t be here wasting your time.”
“I’m sure that’s true. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked about it. Over the last twelve years Octavia has come to dominate my life. The truth is, I don’t know why it disappeared. I have no idea. None whatever. Can I make that any clearer? If it was some sort of government plot, I was kept out of it. And I can tell you, if I knew what really happened, I would gladly go on HV, call in the media, tell everyone I see, do anything I could to get the word out. There is nothing I would like more than to get rid of this thing.”
They both fell silent. Then Alex leaned forward. “What did the AI, the one in the cannon, say?”
“I’m sorry. What do you mean?”
“When you listened to Verona, what did you learn?”
“Nothing. I never even heard more than a few minutes of it. There was nothing there. She reported on the efforts to locate the pods, and finally how happy everyone was when they were located. Otherwise it was mostly just her reactions to idle conversations.”
“Between Charlotte and Housman?”
“Mostly, yes.”
“And you only listened to a few minutes of it?”
“My people sat and played the rest of it out. I had work to do. They found nothing of concern.”
“I can’t believe you’d have trusted them that much. Lashonda, you were running the investigation at the time. You wouldn’t have pushed listening to the AI off to your assistants.”
“I trust my people.”
“Oh, come on. If we’re going to get anywhere, let’s stay with the truth.”
“I’m telling you the truth. Why would I lie?”
“Maybe because you’re hiding something.”
Her eyes hardened. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Okay. If Verona revealed nothing, I assume you wouldn’t have a problem letting us sit down with it for a while.”
“I’m sorry, Alex. I can’t make it accessible to you. The rules prohibit it.”
“Lashonda, you’re the boss here. You write the rules.”
“Actually, I don’t, Alex. The rules have been on the books for a long time, and they apply to everybody.”
“All right. If you insist, I have no choice.”
“To do what?”
“To go to the media and tell them you’re hiding the truth about Octavia.”
“Alex, that’s crazy. I’m not hiding anything.” She looked in my direction. Bail us out here, Kolpath.
“Then,” I said, “show us what you have.”
“I can’t do it. I’m sorry. There’s really nothing to hide, but I’m concerned about doing more damage to the families.”
“Explain,” said Alex.
She held up both hands. “That’s as far as I can go. If you guys want to make a mess of this thing, go ahead. But don’t expect me to help or to protect you.”
“All right,” said Alex. “Have it your way.” He got up. “I’m sorry, Lashonda.”
I was inclined to cave. Lashonda had bright, intense eyes, which she turned on me, looking for an intervention. I just sat there and watched Alex go out the door. Behind us, she sat staring at the ceiling.
XXXV.
Decisions between prudent and popular are easy. They seldom consist of the issues that keep us awake at night. Rather, it is making the call in which there is no clarity that ultimately haunts us.
—GABRIELLA TELLER, A LIFE IN POLITICS, 5664 CE
“Was that really necessary?” I asked.
Alex looked smugly satisfied as we climbed into the skimmer and lifted off. “She’s hiding something.”
“Maybe she has reason to.”
“I’m sure she does.” He looked down at Winfield Lake. A couple of sailboats were on the move, and two kids in a canoe.
When we got back to the country house, he asked Jacob to connect him with Morris Enwright. Enwright was Bruce Colson’s producer.
“Then you weren’t bluffing about going public?”
“No.”
“But we don’t really have anything.”
“Sure we do: Lashonda has the cannon AI. And she’s claiming it has nothing of value.”
“And you think that if that were true, she’d make it available.”
“Of course.”
He was about to head upstairs when Jacob got back to us. “Ellen Carmichael for you, Alex.”
Alex sat down. “Hello, Ellen.
”
Ellen is an associate on The Colson Show. She’s methodical, strictly business, let’s get to the point. “Hi, Alex,” she said. “Morris isn’t in the building at the moment. May I be of assistance?”
“I was wondering if you guys were interested in doing another show on the Octavia incident?”
“I’ll have to pass that along. But I’d be shocked if we’re not. I hear you’ve been out to the black hole. Did you come back with anything?”
“We’re not sure yet. But if you decide to do the show, and to invite me, I’d like to make a suggestion.”
“I’m listening, Alex.”
“It would work best if Director Walton were there too.”
“I’ll tell Morris.”
• • •
We had a fairly busy afternoon. We’d placed a lamp on auction before going over to talk to Lashonda. The lamp had belonged to Will Hancock, a comical genius in ancient times. Drama tends to hold on to its impact through the ages. Crowds still show up in substantial numbers to see Hamlet and An Evening with Musgrove. But the material that makes people laugh changes from generation to generation. Nobody yet, at least no one I know of, has been able to explain why this happens. But it does. With an occasional exception. Hancock is one of the exceptions. It’s been seven thousand years since he performed, but his reruns are still popular. The lamp, Alex predicted, would bring a small fortune.
We’d had fourteen decent offers already, and we were in the process of watching the turmoil picking up when Jacob indicated we had an incoming call. “From Dr. Walton,” he said.
We were in the conference room. Alex directed me to a chair that would keep me out of the picture. When I’d moved over and sat down, he told Jacob to forward the call.
The director blinked on. “Good afternoon, Alex,” she said with a vaguely accusatory tone. She was seated behind her desk.
Alex smiled pleasantly. “Hi, Lashonda.”
“I’ve heard from the Colson people.”
“Are you going to do the show?”
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