Octavia Gone

by Jack McDevitt

  “You know, you can be a son of a bitch.”

  “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  “What do you propose?”

  “Call off the interview, agree to keep it to yourself, and I’ll make the AI accessible.”

  • • •

  The sun was just sinking into the horizon when we arrived over the three-story white building in Hanover and descended into the parking lot. We climbed out, walked in through the front door, and were greeted again by the young woman in the green uniform. “Dr. Benedict,” she said, “and Ms. Kolpath, please step inside. The director will be with you in a moment.”

  She led us into a conference room with a long center table. We’d barely sat down before Lashonda came in through another door.

  “Good evening,” she said. Her tone was decidedly cool.

  “I hope,” said Alex, “I haven’t caused you any trouble.”

  “No. I suspect if I were in your place, I’d have done the same thing.” We sat on opposite sides of the table. “The AI has been connected. Be aware that you won’t be able to record anything.” She handed Alex a link. “She’s right here. When you’re finished please ask her to let me know.”

  “One thing, Lashonda,” said Alex. “Can you show us evidence this is the AI from the cannon?”

  “Unfortunately not. At the time we extracted her and brought her home, we did not anticipate that anyone would question us on that issue. But she is an AI. Ask her where she was before she came here.”

  Everybody knows AIs are capable of exaggerating the truth, that they pick up the qualities of the people they represent. But theoretically they are unable to lie outright. “If you need me,” she added, “just touch the red button.” She got up and left.

  • • •

  Alex pressed the link. “Hello. Verona, you there?”

  A female voice responded: “Yes, I am here.”

  “Were you associated with the cannon and the Octavia space station?”

  “Yes. I was connected with both, although I was placed in the cannon.”

  “There was a black hole in the area. What was its designator?”

  “KBX44.”

  “Do you have a message from Charlotte Hill?”

  “There is substantial input from her.”

  “What is the subject?”

  “There are many. It would be helpful if you could narrow your questions.”

  “Do you have anything referring to a person named Poliks?”

  “I have no record of a reference to any such individual.”

  “Who are the persons who were communicating with you during your time there?”

  “Richard Harding, Charlotte Hill, Delmar Housman, and Archibald Womack.”

  “Was there any indication of tension among them?”

  “Please elaborate.”

  “Did you hear any disagreements? Arguments? Anything like that?”

  “Yes. Quite often.”

  “What were the disagreements about?”

  “Sometimes they disagreed over whether to eat before launching a mission. Sometimes it was details on how to run the mission. Or where they should look for the pods that were being cast into the disturbance created by the black hole. Sometimes it was about politics. There was a wide variety of topics.”

  “Did they get emotional?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “You mention the disturbance created by the black hole. Are you talking about the tunnel? The wormhole?”

  “That among other conditions created by the local environment.”

  “Who were the participants in the emotional discussions?”

  “Everybody. Disagreements were frequent.”

  “Did you have access to the discussions in both the station and the cannon?”

  “No.”

  “How did you learn about what was happening in the station?”

  “Herman and I talked frequently.”

  “Herman was the AI in the station?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Herman ever indicate there was any serious level of anger by anyone in the station?”

  “No.”

  Alex was beginning to look frustrated. “What can you tell us about the most common disagreements? What were they about?”

  “Where they should look for the pods.”

  “Those were between whom?”

  “Delmar Housman and Charlotte Hill, primarily. Those were the two who visited the cannon most frequently.”

  “Would you describe, in general terms, what happened?”

  “Dr. Hill lost patience when they got no results after several months. She wanted to move the search farther out from the black hole. Much farther out. By more than a million kilometers.”

  “Why? Did she say?”

  “She maintained that there was no point in continuing to look in the same place when they were getting no results. Professor Housman said that the pods were easily concealed in the space-time disruptions. That they should abide by the theory and be patient.”

  “What was the outcome of all this?”

  “Eventually, Charlotte told him she was going to look where she thought it would do some good, and she shut down her radio. She was in the shuttle at the time.”

  “And was she successful? Did she find the pods?”

  “Not at first. But she persuaded the professor to allow her some time. It took several weeks, but eventually, yes, she located them.”

  Alex sat back in his chair. “None of that,” he said, “is in the essay Housman submitted to Cosmic. He mentions that Hill was the pilot of the shuttle when the discovery was made, but there’s nothing more. She must have been furious when she saw it.” He shook his head. “Chase, do you have any questions to ask?”

  “Yes.” I needed a moment to organize my thoughts. “Is there anything else connected with this that we should know? Did either of these people ever issue any threats?”

  “No. Not that I’m aware of.”

  “I understand they both saw the Cosmic edition that had Housman’s prizewinning paper. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Verona, were you ever aware of a conversation concerning who got credit for the success in locating the wormhole?”

  “I was not.”

  “After they’d succeeded in finding the pods, did they continue the experiment?”

  “No. At least not in the same vein. Not using the cannon.”

  “What did they do?”

  “Professors Housman and Womack took turns going out with Dr. Hill in the shuttle. I was left out of the conversations because there was seldom anyone in the cannon’s control area after they stopped. I think Dr. Hill was taking them inside the wormhole, but I’m not even certain of that.”

  I thanked her and Alex stepped back in: “After the disappearance, did you speak to the investigators? From DPSAR?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you tell them what you told us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have they removed anything that was on the original record?”

  “No. Everything that was made available to them is available to you.”

  Alex frowned. “They had this, but they never bothered to see that Hill got any credit.”

  “It sounds,” I said, “as if they were trying to protect Housman’s reputation. If this got out, maybe the people who make the award would have canceled Housman and given it to somebody else, somebody not associated with DPSAR.”

  “It’s possible, Chase.” His eyes were looking directly through me. Then he turned back toward the table. “Verona, what other questions did the investigators ask you?”

  “They wanted to know if I could account for the disappearance of the station. Did I have any idea what had happened?”

  “And did you?”

  “No. I did not.”

  “At some point you must have been aware that something had gone wrong.”

  “That is correct. Herman
checked in with me every day at 0700 hours. It was the standard routine, just to be certain I was still active. When the time passed one day and I didn’t hear anything I tried to reach him but could get no response. At that time I knew something was out of order.”

  “You never heard anything from any of them again?”

  “Yes. That was the end.”

  “When was that last day?”

  “Orkon eleventh, 1424, on the Rimway calendar.”

  • • •

  We stayed another hour, repeating questions, rephrasing them. But we got nothing more. And we were back to the original issue: If Charlotte was going to leave a message that was specifically for Karen Randall, and she couldn’t send it directly because the black hole was in the way, how would she have done it? We’d searched the cannon. What was left? Was there someone else named Poliks?

  I had no idea.

  More to the point: What was the message? That Charlotte had taken offense that she’d received no credit for her work? That she was planning to take out the station? Did that make any sense at all?

  We sat for several minutes staring across the table at each other. Finally Alex signaled for Lashonda. The director’s voice requested we go to her office. “Did you learn anything?” she asked.

  “Only that Hill was upset because she was left out by Housman.”

  “Alex, we all knew about that before this thing happened. Well, some of us did. Archie sent a couple messages back, telling us about it.”

  “You never mentioned it.”

  “We had enough to deal with. People were looking for a scandal. We had Greene, Hill’s stalker, on our hands. All we needed was something else, one of our own people cutting her short. You know how that would have played out? The media would have claimed that Hill did it as an act of revenge. That she’d taken the shuttle out and rammed it into the station. Or that maybe Housman was responsible. They might have decided he didn’t want to lose credit for the discovery, that he desperately wanted the Exeter and knew he’d lose his shot if we found out it was Charlotte who actually found the pods. So he killed her and himself and everyone else to keep it quiet.”

  “How do you know that’s not what happened? That it wasn’t either Hill or Housman?”

  “Because I knew both of them. Housman wasn’t the most considerate human being on the planet, but there’s no way he would have killed anybody. Nor would Charlotte. No, the truth is somewhere else. And I didn’t want to ruin the reputations of two decent people because we didn’t have an answer.”

  XXXVI.

  Sometimes there is nothing that so evades vision as an object resting in plain sight.

  —REV. AGATHE LAWLESS, SUNSET MUSINGS, 1402

  Rain was falling when we came out of the DPSAR building. The weather matched our mood. Alex didn’t say much on the way home. I’d committed to going out on the Riverwalk that evening with Chad. And the reality was that I was going to need him that night. “Charlotte just never sent the message,” I said. “I guess it’s time to face that.”

  Alex stayed silent but he let me see that he agreed.

  “What are we going to do about The Colson Show?”

  He pushed back in his seat. “I’m going to tell them that we thought we had something, but it fell through.”

  “Where do we go from here, Alex?”

  “Good question. I think there was a conflict between Housman and Charlotte. There must have been a confrontation about the way he wrote the Cosmic paper. I can’t imagine any way it wouldn’t have happened. Charlotte wasn’t someone who would have backed off and let him take all the credit. She probably told him if he didn’t rewrite the thing she’d dispute his claims. And she had witnesses on board who’d have backed her up.”

  “So he goes nuts, takes the shuttle, and rams the station?”

  “If he did that, what are his chances that the place would wind up in the black hole?”

  “I don’t know. It certainly seems possible. Housman would have been able to put the numbers together.”

  “If he can bring it off, he leaves a mystery behind, and nobody has any answers. Certainly nothing to refute his ambition to walk in the footsteps of Galileo.”

  “Alex, you really think he’d have been willing to sacrifice his life, and kill everybody else on the station, to do that?”

  “The only thing I can say, Chase, is maybe.”

  “So we’re left with that or the aliens?”

  “Or Charlotte.”

  “Yeah. Personally, I prefer the aliens.”

  • • •

  We canceled the Riverwalk stroll. Instead Chad took me to the Emporium dance hall. It’s located on a pier off the north end of the beach. Music gets piped in. It’s traditionally soft and warm, exactly what you’d want if you had the love of your life in your arms. We’d been out on the floor only a few minutes when he asked me what was wrong.

  “Nothing,” I said. “What makes you think there’s something wrong?”

  “You usually generate a lot of energy, Chase. You’re dialed down tonight.”

  “Oh. I guess I’m a bit tired. It’s been a long few days.”

  “You need to get out from under that Octavia business.”

  “Probably.”

  “You making any progress at all?”

  “I think we’ve hit a wall.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.” A gorgeous redhead swirled past and caught his eye momentarily.

  “She looks pretty good,” I said.

  He grinned. “Not in your league.”

  “Right.”

  He leaned close and let his lips explore my cheek. “I wish I could help. Do something.”

  “So do I, Chad.”

  We danced through the evening. Chad wasn’t great on his feet. He never had been, but he was okay. For some reason, though, on that night he was more relaxed and affectionate than I’d seen in the past. I was lost in his arms, and I got the impression for the first time that we weren’t simply two people on a date, but that we’d become a couple.

  “Chase,” he said, “you’re a sweetheart. I’ve never known anyone like you.”

  I’d heard it before, of course. Usually it sounds like a guy trying to set himself up for the evening. But there was a ring of intensity to it that night. He stopped short of saying he was in love with me, although I thought several times it was coming. However that might have been, I’d never seen him look happier. And simultaneously more nervous. He was trying to decide how far to go. Eventually he suggested we take a break. The walls were lined with chairs, so we went over and sat down. “I love having you back,” he said. “I wish you worked for me.”

  “That’s very nice of you, Chad.”

  “We could go riding around in your interstellar chasing down classic books.”

  “You’d have to buy a yacht. The Belle-Marie belongs to Alex.”

  “I was hoping it was yours.”

  “I don’t have that kind of money.”

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. “I know,” he said. “I was just kidding. Though I’d love to be alone with you in the Belle-Marie. You and I go out together and look at another star. Maybe we could lease a vehicle.”

  I was thinking that Alex would let me take Belle out, but the prospect of explaining why I wanted it made me feel a bit squirmy. “Eventually,” I said, “we could probably arrange something.”

  “You know, there’s a good side to all this, if the hunt for that space station is really over.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Maybe you won’t be disappearing anymore for weeks at a time.”

  • • •

  When I got to the country house in the morning, Gabe was seated in the dining room enjoying pancakes. I’d eaten breakfast at home, but I always start my workday with a cup of coffee, which gives me an excuse to wander into the dining area and join the conversation. That usually tells me what’s coming up. On this occasion, though, Alex was apparently still asleep. “I haven�
�t heard anything from him yet,” said Gabe. “He was wandering around the building during the night. What happened yesterday? He went over to McGill’s bar and spent half the evening there. That’s totally unlike him.”

  “Veronica wasn’t with him?”

  “No. Not that I know of. You guys were gone most of the day. Did something happen?”

  “Not really. But I think the Octavia project is over.”

  “You mean, without a resolution?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? What happened, Chase?”

  “We got access to the cannon AI.”

  “And there was nothing?”

  “Well, we suspect Charlotte Hill was upset because she didn’t get any credit for what she’d done. She was the person who located the pods. And she did it by ignoring Housman’s instructions. He might have been concerned that she was going to make an issue of it when they got back home.”

  “Which meant he’d lose his reputation.”

  “It wouldn’t help.”

  “So you think the animosity between them led to what happened?”

  “Probably.”

  “Which one did it?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Gabe.”

  “There would have been time for one of them to arrange for someone to come to the rescue.”

  “You think Housman or Charlotte could have gotten picked up by an accomplice and is still alive somewhere now?”

  “It would have been a bit tricky to set up, but I don’t see why not.”

  “That’s possible, I guess. In any case, yes, Alex thinks Housman’s behind it. When’s the last time he’s been wrong about something like this?”

  “But the AI didn’t provide anything definitive?”

  “No.” I’d been taking too much time off and had gotten behind in my work. So I said good-bye to Gabe, went back to my office, and started putting together the month’s accounting statement. I was still working on it when Jacob informed me there was a call from Karen Randall.

  She appeared in my office, dressed in white khakis and an amber blouse. A crimson neckerchief hung across her shoulders. “Chase,” she said. “Did you guys ever find Charlotte’s message?”

  “Not really, Karen,” I said. “Truth is, we got nothing.”

  “I heard something on HV a few minutes ago that might connect.” She gave me a weak smile. “Maybe.”