The Devil's Eye ab-4

by Jack McDevitt

  Eventually, the audience subsided. "There's something else," he said. "The Coalition wants to recognize some of the people who made this night possible." An aide wheeled a table out, up an incline in the side of the rostrum, and placed it beside him. There were medals on the table. With ribbons. "The Grand Award of the Coalition is bestowed for outstanding service. It has been given to only four individuals during the entire thirty-year history of the Coalition. We will double that number tonight. "To Alex Benedict, who was first to grasp what had happened, and whose quick action to bring it to our attention made it possible to confront the problem. Alex, would you come forward, please?" Alex loved public recognition. Well, in all honesty, who doesn't? He strode through the crowd and up the three steps of the rostrum. The Administrator examined the medals, selected one, and placed it against his breast. He let go and took a moment to admire the award. "Thank you, Alex," he said. Kilgore invited him to speak. Alex looked out over the crowd. "It's an honor," he said, "to have been in a position to assist the people of Salud Afar." More applause. And the Administrator picked up a second medal. "Is Chase Kolpath in the audience, please? Chase, are you out there?" My heart stopped. Now, I'm not going to pretend I didn't think I'd made a major contribution to what was happening. But I didn't expect to get any recognition for it. Usually the recognition goes to Alex, Alex says something nice about me while he's accepting the award, and that's the end of it. And it struck me as I left Mash on the edge of the dance floor and walked forward that he hadn't mentioned my role. He'd known. I mounted the steps. Kilgore gazed happily out at the crowd. "I'm not sure where we'd have been without Chase. She did much to bring the Ashiyyur and the Confederates here tonight. And she was largely responsible for sidestepping efforts by a rogue unit of this government to keep the Callistra event secret." He smiled at me. "We'll always think of her as the lady who rode the taxicab into orbit." Of course I hadn't had the acceleration to achieve orbit, but that seemed picky at the moment. He pressed my medal to my gown and gave me the floor. I tend to get stage fright, so I just said thanks and hustled back down off the podium. "Next," said Kilgore, "the Coalition would like to recognize the lady who helped mobilize support for us in the Assemblage: Bon Selvan. Bon, would you come forward, please?" I hadn't realized she was there. The crowd quieted as she strode across the dance floor. The three steps up to the podium didn't fit her very well, so she simply ignored them and climbed up in one stride. It broke what might have been an awkward moment. There was some laughter, then a wave of applause. Kilgore held her medal and looked up at her. The audience laughed again, as did Kilgore. He couldn't reach an appropriate place on the robe, so she bent down, and he smiled and attached the medal. Then he got serious. "I don't know what to say, Proctor Selvan, except that we will always be grateful to you and your companions. We know it wasn't easy to do what you did. And that the Ashiyyur were willing to take a risk in sending their fleet here. I hope this will be the beginning, as someone once said, of a long and beautiful friendship." She turned to face the audience. "Thank you, Mr. Administrator. Thank you all. We share your sentiments. Unfortunately, our joint history has not been an admirable one. Let us begin today. Let us

  ***

  "The final award," said Kilgore, "recognizes the contribution of a young lady from Rimway, who came here seeking inspiration, and who discovered the terrible danger that was rushing toward us. She sacrificed her life and a brilliant career in an effort to warn us. This award will be placed in a special station in the Coalition Hall of Fame. Ladies and gentlemen, we all owe a great debt of thanks to Vicki Greene."

  The celebration lasted well into the night. I danced with Alex and Mash and half the males in the place, including several of the Mutes. I won't try to describe how that must have looked. You'd have had to

  see it. I talked with Proctor Selvan, and received an invitation to visit her whenever I could. "How did all this happen?" I asked her. "How is it possible?" She gazed serenely down at me. "It was too good an opportunity to miss. We knew that from the moment the situation first developed. But we needed someone to help us pull the trigger. To create the political wave. You did that rather nicely when you spoke to the Chief Minister." She drew back her lips. "That's the wrong word. Connected is as close as I can get. When you connected with the Chief Minister." "You mean the interview?" "Of course." "But I wasn't talking to him. I had the Director in mind. Whiteside." I got the fangs again. "You were talking to both ," she said. "And it appears both got the message."

  Toward the end of the evening, I found myself back in Alex's arms. "Brilliant performance, Chase," he said. "From start to finish." "Thanks." "I guess you'll be wanting a raise." "I could live with it." He grinned. "We'll figure it out on the way home." "Okay." Kilgore must have noticed Alex was getting ready to leave. He came over and shook his hand. "Thank you, Alex," he said. "We'll never forget what you've done." Alex looked around. And ushered us-himself, the Administrator, and me-toward a corner. Kilgore signaled his security people, and they formed a wall to keep everyone at a distance. "What is it, Alex?" "Mr. Administrator, I was surprised you mentioned the rogue element." "The crisis is over, Alex. Anyway, there's really no way to keep something like that quiet. Best to get out in front with it." "Yes, sir. Of course. You know Wexler made an attempt on our lives." "Of course." "But he wasn't in it alone. May I ask whether you've acted against those who were involved with him?" "We've found some. Perhaps all. To be honest, we can't prove criminal intent against any of them because we don't think they knew why they were getting the warnings." "Mr. Administrator, you can't really believe that." "No, of course not, Alex. But knowing it and proving it-" He shook his head. "Those who were involved have been terminated from their positions. Sent quietly away." "I see." He gazed into Alex's eyes. "Was there something else?" For a long time, Alex stared back. There was more he wanted to say. Maybe about power and responsibility. Maybe simply about paying attention. "No," he said finally. "Nothing else." "Good. I'm glad you and Chase were there to help set things right." He shook Alex's hand and turned on his heel and walked off, but got only a dozen strides away before several of his guests approached him. One held up a drink to him as we watched, and offered a handshake. His smile returned.

  FORTY-THREE

  People like to say, during a journey, that only the journey matters, and not the destination. Believe me, Lia, the destination matters. Oh, yes, it matters.

  - Dying to Know You

  Even with the Salvation Fleet, as it became known, combining the naval forces of both sides with a vast number of private and commercial vehicles, escaping the Thunderbolt was still a near thing. It was never clear that the shield could be assembled in time, or, if it were, that it would be possible to synchronize its arrival at Salud Afar at the exact hour it was needed. No task had ever seemed more daunting. The decision to go ahead with the shield stopped all evacuation attempts. When it became firm, it provoked worldwide criticism. The Administrator was put under extreme pressure, and there were even two assassination attempts. But he stayed with it, and when the critical hour arrived, so did the wall to block off the deadly gamma-ray burst. Today he stands not only as a towering hero, but he has also become a symbol of the interspecies peace movement. No one, they will tell you, has done more to promote a reasonable rapprochement between the two civilizations.

  We did not see him again, in person, after the awards ceremony. When we checked out of the hotel the next morning, we found flowers waiting for us, with a text message that he wished us well, and informing us that we would always be welcome on Salud Afar. I spent a rousing weekend in Kayoga, the city of romance, with Lance Depardeau. He'd recognized me from the news accounts and told me he would never have believed anyone would be crazy enough to take the chances I had in the taxicab. A few days later he showed up unexpectedly at another celebratory luncheon, and proposed to me. "It's short notice, and I know it's not smart to commit myself so quickly, and I'm risking losing you. But I'm also going to lose you if I stand b
y and watch you go back to Rimway." He was right, of course. We'd be too far apart to carry on a serious relationship. So I said thanks, but let's wait and see. I fell in love with him, and left him. I entertained for a while a dream of eventually going back, or maybe of his coming to Rimway. But it never happened. And he recently let me know he'd met somebody.

  I tracked down Jara, who was assigned to the Traffic Control station in East Quentin, outside Marinopolis. Unlike Lance, she hadn't gotten a good look at who was riding in the taxi. She was too busy trying to hang on to the door. I arrived as her shift finished, and said hello. She, too, knew me immediately as the woman who was getting all the attention in the media. But she didn't connect me with the runaway cab. When I told her, her face darkened. "You could have gotten us both killed." "I had to keep going," I said. I told her about the asteroid. "Why didn't you just explain?" "Because the CSS was after me. I couldn't afford to-" "Look"-she wanted no nonsense from me-"I haven't been following the story that close. But I don't appreciate what you did. Next time, you might try trusting us." And she turned away.

  Reporters found the young Ashiyyurean male who'd followed me out to the raft. The interview that followed was translated into standard and made available all over the Confederacy. He gallantly denied any special claim of heroism, but admitted he'd thought twice about going into the water with both me and the vooparoo running loose. The reporter, also a Mute, asked without a trace of humor which of us had been scarier. I'm happy to report he gave first prize to the vooparoo . But he had to think about it.

  ***

  Rob Peifer wrote Callistra: The Hunt for the Devil's Eye , recounting the entire story. It's won awards and has made Peifer one of the most visible journalists on Salud Afar. At least that's what he says. He is currently working on a biography of Vicki Greene. The book made celebrities of Orman and Shiala, who'd rescued us from the crash after our escape from the plateau. They were recognized by a local civic group as the Citizens of the Year. Alex and I attended the ceremony. We took Ivan and his wife to dinner the night before we left for home. We owed them a major vote of thanks. Alex has since sent him a comm link that was once owned by Karis Timm, the legendary physician.

  When I finally got back to Rimway, Ben told me there was no point going any further, and we became an ex-couple. It was a pity. I liked Ben.

  Alex brought the Churchill book home with us. He admits that yes, it was a theft of sorts, but Kilgore didn't know what he had, had no appreciation for it, and, anyhow, he would never have made sense of what Churchill stood for. And technically, we'd found it lying loose. It sold recently for an amount that would have covered double our expenses for the entire Salud Afar mission.

  A new recreation center was recently erected in Moreska, and named for Edward Demery, who lost his life trying to warn the world. His partner in that effort, Jennifer Kelton, is also remembered. Travis University, where she once taught math and physics, has named its science lab for her.

  Years after the publication of her last novel, Vicki Greene remains a major figure in the literary world. The people who decide such things maintain that it is too early to know for certain, but most seem to be betting that she will reign with Teslov, Bikai, and Gordon as the giants of the age. And, of course, on Salud Afar, she will always be remembered as the woman who put things together, who figured out why someone thought it didn't matter whether an obscure wedding ceremony had a religious dimension, and how it connected with a forgotten asteroid.

  EPILOGUE

  The skimmer began its descent through the late-autumn sky. Below, the town was indistinguishable from a thousand others on the vast prairie that separates the western mountain chains from the eastern forests. It was located on a river, a tributary of the Myakonda, in an area of moderate temperatures. The climate was pleasant. Snowstorms were rare, tornadoes nonexistent. Cory Greene looked down from the skimmer. He saw the school, two churches, and several hundred houses set along quiet streets, surrounding parks, and ball fields. Several ball games were in progress. "Nice area," he said. Obermaier was still sitting with his eyes closed. He wasn't happy. "You understand, Mr. Greene, I do not approve of this." "I understand, Doctor." "Ordinarily, I would not even have considered your request. To my knowledge, this has never been done before." "I understand." "It's a clear ethical violation." "I know." "I'd much prefer we simply leave things as they are." "That would be unfair to her." "So is disrupting her life." Greene was weary of the conversation. How many times were they going to go over it? "Doctor, I've signed the protocol. I won't identify myself to her. After today, I will never return to this town. I will tell no one about what we are doing here. And I will, under the most severe torture, not reveal the location." Children were jumping rope in the streets. Kids were playing on swings and chasing one another through backyards. Several people glanced up from a bench as they passed overhead. They started down. Greene's heartbeat picked up. "We've informed her we're coming," said Obermaier. "She knows we have news, but she has no idea what that might be." "Okay." "She'll recognize me. She thinks I'm an uncle. So please let me do the talking. If questioned, you should inform her you're here strictly as an observer. They were descending toward a modest single-story home at the end of a tree-lined drive. It had a lawn, a picket fence, and a large flowering bush in front. "Is that where she lives?" he asked. "Yes. She's a music teacher now." "That's hard to believe." "I suppose so."

  They drifted down and landed on a pad shared with the house next door. Cory opened the hatch just as church bells began to ring. Obermaier looked at him. "You're sure now you want to do this? There'll be no going back." "I'm sure."

  "She's quite happy with her present existence. She has a family, which we've gone to quite a lot of trouble and expense to put together. You're going to disrupt all that." "I know." "Okay." Obermaier took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The church bells stopped and the town seemed very quiet. "You understand this won't restore her mind. It won't set everything back as it was." "I understand." He opened the door and admitted a cool breeze. There was a light on in the living room. He gripped the rim of the hatchway, slipped out of his seat, and stood on the pad. "Even if she can't remember, she deserves to know who she was. Who she is ." He led Obermaier across the front of the house. A lamp came on in the entrance, and an AI asked who was there.

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