Echo

by Jack McDevitt

“You’re talking about the tablet.”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s annoyed. It’s turned into something of a challenge with this Rachel woman. You’ve met her, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “What did you think of her?”

  “She seems okay. Didn’t take kindly to our poking into what she considers her business.”

  “I guess not. She went to a lot of trouble to send us out on a pointless chase.”

  “I know.” I heard Alex coming down the stairs.

  “So what’s she hiding?”

  “I’ll give you a call when we find out. I’m inclined to think we try a break-in.”

  She laughed. “Chase, you’d look good in a mask.”

  Alex came into the room. “Fortunately,” he said, “some of us are still law-abiding, principled citizens of high character.” He wore dark brown slacks and a white pullover that read RAINBOW ENTERPRISES. We’d given a hundred of them away a month before at a gala for antique collectors. “Good morning, Chase,” he continued. “It seems a trifle early for you to be here. Everything okay?”

  “More or less.” I paused, and we all looked at one another. “Have we decided to walk away from this thing?”

  “Did I say that?”

  “I was hoping you would.”

  “Well, no. I don’t plan to. But there’s no reason for you to be involved.”

  “Right.”

  Audree took a large bite of the toast. “You sound skeptical, Chase.”

  “Alex likes company.”

  He opened the refrigerator and got some orange juice. “Where would the world be without women?” he asked.

  “So, boss, where do we go from here?”

  “We’re not going to be able to get our hands on the thing. So we have to find another way to track down its origin.”

  “How?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  TEN

  Let us then seek truth, and pray that, when we come upon it, we do not break a leg.

  —Nolan Creel, The Arnheim Review, XLII, 17

  I spent that evening with Robin at the Top of the World. While I poked at a steak, he looked out over the lights of Andiquar and asked whether we really wanted to find aliens.

  “How do you mean?” I asked.

  He looked good in the candlelight. He was subdued, happy to be with me, and supportive at a time when I felt I needed it because I was spending a lot of my working time supporting Alex, who was becoming increasingly frustrated. “Life’s pretty good right now,” he said. “Who knows how a race of high-tech aliens might change things. They could be a serious threat. It might be one of those cases of being careful what you wish for.” He stirred his drink, tasted it, and sat back, a guy for whom wisdom consisted in knowing when to cash in your chips. “They might think that rum is a negative force and decide that we shouldn’t have any. For our own good.”

  “Robin—”

  “Or they might be against sex. Except for reproduction.”

  “Ah, yes. Now we get to the heart of the matter.”

  I needed him that night, so I took him home.

  We were into the weekend. Normally, I don’t work weekends, but that time around I was inclined to make an exception. I arrived at Rainbow in the morning, bright and happy in spite of everything. The world was a playground, and I was on the swings, baby. Jacob greeted me at the door, told me he was surprised to see me arrive once again when I wasn’t expected, adding that I seemed to be making a habit of it, and assuring me that Alex wouldn’t approve. He asked whether he could help with whatever assignments had brought me in on a day off. I said thanks, but I was just going to hang out for a bit.

  Alex came down, and I explained again that I knew what day it was but it was okay. We drank our usual morning coffee and talked about some assorted tasks that, since I was there, I might as well take care of. Neither of us mentioned the tablet.

  The day, which had started with the promise of sunlight and warm temperatures, turned cool. The sky lost its light, the wind picked up, and a mild rain began to fall. I completed the paperwork for several services we’d rendered, including the transfer of a floor lamp that dated back to the Librano period six thousand years ago. The lamp didn’t work anymore, of course. Oddly, it probably would have been worth less if it did. But it was in exquisite condition. We’d also succeeded in confirming that one of the voices in a radio transmission intercepted near Belarian belonged to the immortal essayist Edouard Melancamp, who had been sitting at home on Barkley Lake, chatting idly with his son-in-law, who was approaching in the Alexia. The Alexia, a few years later, would explode, killing four hundred people, one of the worst superluminal accidents in history.

  Alex spent the rest of the morning upstairs in his office. When, finally, he came down, he offered to take me to lunch. I’d committed to Robin, so I had to pass.

  After an entertaining hour at Mojack’s, I settled in for a long afternoon, working on contracts and tracking the provenance of several artifacts at the request of clients: A desk that, its owner maintained, had once been the property of Indio Naramatsu. (It hadn’t.) A captain’s chair that was supposed to have once been installed on the bridge of the Ranger. (It also had not.) A communication device that had originally been the property of Clair Pascha—even though the instrument belonged to a different era. And so on. We get a lot of that. People aren’t satisfied with having an antique. They want it to be a piece of history.

  The rain didn’t so much stop as gradually exhaust itself, leaving behind a skyful of listless gray clouds. Jack Napier, our delivery guy, brought some shipments that had to be inventoried and added to our available stock. We didn’t keep much on hand. Generally, Rainbow made its money by putting buyers and sellers together. But we didn’t shy away from marketing whatever antiques we were able, through good timing, to acquire.

  In the midst of all this, Alex wandered into my office and sat down quietly, pretending to be absorbed in a silver locket that might have been worn by Lara Cheneau, but whose authenticity was not certifiable. I was looking at shipping schedules when he broke the silence: “Rachel called while you were out.”

  “Really? What did she have to say?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t here either.” And, of course, Jacob has orders not to relay calls. Alex doesn’t like being tracked everywhere he goes.

  “She leave a message?”

  “Just that she’d called.”

  “You going to call back?”

  “I think I’ll let her have the initiative. I’m tired of the mind games.”

  “Why do you think she’s calling?”

  “Because she knows we’re still looking around. I’ve been trying to find someone who knows what happened to Hugh Conover. I suspect that’s gotten back to her.”

  “No luck with Conover?”

  “Even his family doesn’t know where he is. He just said good-bye to everybody. Nine years ago. Every once in a while somebody gets a note from him. Says he’s doing fine. Hopes everyone’s okay. Leaves a code number they can reply to.”

  “Have you tried contacting him directly?”

  “I’ve tried. He hasn’t answered.”

  We were getting ready to close for the day when Jacob announced Rachel was on the circuit. Alex took the call in my office. “Mr. Benedict,” she said, “I’m not comfortable with what’s been happening, and I wonder if we might not reach some sort of agreement?” She looked frustrated and less sure of herself than she had been.

  “What did you have in mind, Ms. Bannister?”

  She was seated on her sofa. A lamp on the side table glowed softly. She was dressed casually in green and white, and wore a woolly white sweater. I was off to one side, out of the picture as far as she was concerned. But I could see her.

  “Did you find what you wanted?”

  “I think you know the answer to that.”

  “All right,” she said. “Look. I’d like to save us both some time. I’m going to
be honest with you. I’ve no interest in keeping the tablet.”

  “You’re willing to sell it to me?”

  “I’ve destroyed it.”

  “I hope you’re not going to tell me you dropped it in the ocean.”

  “No. I was simply trying to discourage you from proceeding.”

  “Why?”

  “Since you are the one on the hunt, Alex—Is it okay if I call you that? Since you are the one on the hunt, you’re surely better equipped to answer that question than I am.” Her eyes sparkled in the light. “I’ll tell you honestly that I wish you’d let things alone. You can do no good, and you might do a great deal of harm.”

  Alex was seated in one of the two chairs that faced my desk. “Explain that. Tell me where the danger is. I’ll hold everything you say in confidence, and if I agree, we’ll drop the investigation.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “You probably can’t. It depends on what you have to say.”

  Her eyes slid shut, and for a long moment, she didn’t move. “Tell me what you know,” she said, “and I’ll try to fill in the blanks.”

  Alex straightened himself, gave the impression he was considering whether he wanted to comply. Then: “The language on the tablet can’t be identified. It’s possible it has a human origin, but there’s a decent chance the source is something else. We don’t believe the Mutes are involved although we’re in the process of checking that out now.

  “It originally belonged to Tuttle. He’s only known for one thing.” A gust of wind rattled the windows. “So the tablet,” Alex continued, “gets advertised online, you’re surprised to see it, but you know what it is and what it means. I don’t know how that is, but you and he were friends. He confided in you. Hours later, your nephew shows up to collect it. Have I got it right so far?”

  “Go on,” she said.

  “Since that time, you’ve done everything you could to prevent my getting a look at it. And you seem baffled as to why my curiosity should be aroused.”

  She picked up a glass of wine from the side table, took some, and put it down. “And why do you think I’ve been doing all this? I mean, the tablet is essentially worthless. The pictures you have don’t depict the reality. It’s in much worse condition.”

  “This is not about money, Rachel. Although if it is what we suspect it might be, then its value would climb considerably.”

  “That’s certainly true.” She looked steadily at him. “Ah,” she said suddenly, “you think it’s all a con. You think I’m withholding the tablet to create the impression that yes, it is an alien artifact. Drive the price through the roof, sell the thing, then take the money and run.”

  “I don’t believe that at all.”

  “Very good. Because there’s nothing to it.”

  “Which brings us back to your motives. Why are you keeping it hidden?”

  “Keep in mind that I’m no longer hiding it. It has been reduced to rubble.”

  “I hope you are not serious.”

  “I am.” I was inclined to believe her.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’m sorry it was necessary.” She took a deep breath. “You’re recording this conversation, I assume?”

  “I am.”

  “Turn it off.”

  Alex told Jacob to comply.

  She waited, looking to her right, until she was satisfied she could speak freely. “I assume you’re not alone.”

  Alex hesitated. “No,” he said.

  “Please have her leave.”

  I got up and started to walk out. Alex signaled me to come forward where Rachel could see me, and to sit back down. “Anything you wish to say to me, you can say to her.”

  She thought about it. “All right. I’d promised myself to take this matter to the grave. But I don’t want you stirring things up. Asking too many questions. So I’ll tell you what it’s about, provided”—she looked from Alex to me—“provided it goes no further. Not to anyone.” She eased back into the sofa. “Are we agreed?”

  It was Alex’s turn to think it over. “No,” he said. “I can’t possibly agree to those conditions. Not until I hear the explanation.”

  “Then we’ll simply have to leave things as they are.”

  “I’m sorry. Answer me this: Why is secrecy so important?”

  “Because the danger is so great.”

  “What danger?”

  “Alex, you’re not being reasonable.”

  “Tell me what the danger is.”

  “I can’t do that. I’ve already said too much.” And, incredibly, this woman, who had impressed me as being so tough, wiped tears from her cheeks.

  She looked in my direction. Then, as though I were of no consequence, back toward Alex. “All right,” she said. “I’m exhausted. I’m tired of carrying this burden on my own. Maybe it is best that you know.”

  “Know what, Rachel?”

  Rachel seemed to be having trouble finding words. “Alex, you were—” She swallowed. “You were right. I did find another civilization.”

  “Where?”

  “That’s of no concern. Other than myself, nobody knows. And I’m going to keep it that way.”

  “Why?”

  “Alex, they’re far in advance of us. Of anything we’ve ever imagined. Sunset thought they were possibly millions of years old. He had a tendency to exaggerate, but he might very well have been correct.”

  “How did Sunset happen to be with you?”

  “I was with him. We were friends. I went with him once in a while.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

  “They told us to go away. They didn’t want to be bothered by savages.”

  “Savages.”

  “That’s a direct quote.”

  “They speak Standard?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’d they manage that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The communication was by radio?”

  “It was voices in the ship. Or, rather, a voice.”

  Alex shook his head. “An actual voice? Or something you heard in your head?”

  “A voice. It told us to leave. Not to come back. And not allow any others ‘of your kind’ to intrude.”

  “That’s fairly hard to believe, Rachel.”

  “Believe what you want. Ask yourself what else would have kept Sunset silent. He knew what it would mean. Once the word got out, there’d be no keeping people away from the place. Even if we refused to make the location public, it would initiate a major hunt. Who knew what the outcome might be? Alex, these creatures were terrifying.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It was as if they got inside us. Took us over. Even today, so many years later, the mere thought of them—” She shuddered.

  “How did you respond?”

  Her gaze grew intense. “What do you think? Yes, sir. We’ll do what you say. Won’t see any of us around here anymore. Good day to you all.” She actually managed a smile. “How would you have responded?”

  “Where’d the tablet come from?”

  “They took over the ship. Took it down through the atmosphere and landed it in an open field.”

  “That must have been disconcerting.”

  “I know how this sounds. It’s nonetheless true. They told us we would not be harmed, but I’ll admit I wasn’t reassured.”

  “What happened when you were on the ground?”

  “The area was filled with ruins. Stone buildings. Magnificent architecture, but allowed to go to ruin. I asked what they were. Why they’d been abandoned.”

  “What did they say?”

  “That they were no longer needed. Then we were told to leave the ship.” Her eyes grew large, and she shook her head. “We opened up. Got out.”

  “And then?”

  “They told us they wanted to do an analysis.”

  “Of the ship?”

  “I guess. Maybe of us. Damn it, Alex, I don’t know the answers to most
of this.”

  “It sounds like a harrowing experience.”

  “There is no word.”

  Another pause. Then: “So what happened? On the ground?”

  “A stream ran among the ruins. We stood and watched the ship for a while, but we didn’t see anybody, anything go in. The tablet was set up in front of one of the buildings. A big place. Vaulted roof, what was left of it. Like a church. Or a temple.”

  “And Tuttle removed it?”

  “No. Not exactly.”

  “How did you come into possession of it?”

  “We asked them about it. What was it? What did it say? They indicated it was a date and dedication. They wouldn’t do a translation for us. Said we wouldn’t understand. But Sunset wanted to know if we could have it.”

  “And—?”

  “When we got back to the ship, it was waiting.”

  “Rachel, did you ever actually see them?”

  “No. We were alone the whole time. But not alone.”

  “Did you ask any other questions? Like, how did they learn the language? Who were they?”

  “I was too scared. It didn’t strike me at the time that I particularly wanted to ask questions.”

  “What about Tuttle?”

  “No. Not him either. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen him almost speechless.”

  “Okay.” Alex scribbled something on a notepad. “You never went back?”

  Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Are you serious? Would you have gone back?” For a long few moments, no one spoke. Then she continued: “Can I count on you to say nothing about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “And to drop your investigation, which can only call attention to the matter?”

  Alex leaned forward in his chair, propped his elbow on the arm, and rested his chin in his palm. “Rachel, I would certainly drop the investigation if your account were true. Unfortunately, I find it impossible to believe.”

  The color drained out of her face. She stared at Alex with such unalloyed venom that I almost expected her to materialize physically and attack him. “Then let it be on your head,” she said. “Whatever happens, it will be your responsibility.” And she broke off.