“Rock,” she said.
It exploded directly ahead and to starboard. The detectors should have picked it up and canceled the jump. “They may not be properly correlated with the new system,” said Jon. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Nice reflexes, Phyl,” said Matt. He was embarrassed.
“That’s what you can expect with a top-of-the-line model.”
Antonio had urged that Jon should be first to speak on arrival, and that he think of something historic to say, a timeless remark that would not only play well during the newsbreaks, but that people would always remember as signaling the first shining moments of the real interstellar age. But that moment had also been blown away by Phyl’s particle beams. “I don’t think the profanity works,” he said over the allcom. “Can we just rewrite the moment?”
“Not without breaking the law,” said Matt. “It went into the log.”
“So we’ve got goddam as our giant leap comment?”
“I’m sorry, Antonio.”
He shook his head. “Make your apology to history, compagno.”
A BLINDING SUN dominated the sky. Matt activated the viewport filters. They helped.
“Too close,” said Rudy. “It’s not as precise as a Hazeltine.”
Jon apologized and said he’d figure it out in time. They told him it didn’t really matter, not now. “Time to make it official,” said Rudy. He climbed out of his chair and disappeared in back. He returned a minute later, brandishing glasses and a bottle of French champagne.
They recorded the TOA, 1723 hours ship time. Transit time, five hours, thirty-five minutes, seventeen seconds. Matt printed a copy of the log entry, along with his unfortunate remark, and they all signed it. Jon Silvestri. Priscilla Hutchins. Rudy Golombeck. Antonio Giannotti. Matthew Darwin.
“So now that we’re here,” said Antonio, “what’s next?”
“I take it we’re not very close to Seabright,” Hutch said.
Matt shook his head. “I doubt it.” She smiled back at him, two pilots exchanging an unspoken understanding. It’s big out here. Brand-new propulsion system. Lucky we got close to the star at all.
It was good to be back. Matt gazed out at the stars, thinking how there was no career like it. “Phyl,” he said, “how far are we from Seabright?”
“Two hundred thirty-six million kilometers, Matt. Ten days by standard drive.”
“Can’t we do better than that?” asked Antonio, with a smile.
“I think it might be possible.” Matt grinned.
“I’ve never seen Seabright,” said Antonio.
Despite his claims, Matt doubted Antonio had seen much of anything out of the ordinary. The journalists had usually traveled the standard routes. They were rarely found with the exploration missions.
Jon nodded. “Doesn’t seem as if we should come all the way out here and not see the sights.” He glanced at Matt. “Why don’t we take a look?”
“Sure.” Matt nodded. “Okay by me. We’ll have to kick the pony a bit to recharge. Figure a half hour. I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”
HUTCH SPENT THE time thinking what it would mean if the Locarno could be made to work with real precision. Travel across the solar system in seconds. She wondered if there might be a groundside application? Climb onto a train in Boston and step off an eye blink later in Los Angeles. Or Honolulu. Possibly even private vehicles doing the same thing? She wasn’t sure she’d want to live in such a world. She liked riding the glide trains, liked cruising through the skies over DC. The whole point of travel was, after all, the ride and not the destination. Like people’s lives.
She was engaged in a conversation with Antonio about the state of the world, and the tendency of the general public to pay little attention until conditions deteriorated severely, when Matt announced they were ready to make their jump.
Jon had replaced her up front, tinkering with the settings. “I don’t want to go in too close,” he said. “We can’t trust the mass detector.”
That sounded a little too casual for Hutch. She’d have felt more comfortable if she were at the controls.
Matt’s voice came over the allcom. “Buckle in.”
She activated her harness. Antonio’s belt locked him down.
“Ten seconds,” said Matt.
Antonio’s eyes slid shut. He seemed to be somewhere else. “Go, baby,” he said.
She closed her own eyes, felt a momentary tug in her belly, saw the glare of light against her eyelids dim and come up again.
“That’s it,” said Matt. He couldn’t avoid a snicker. They all laughed. “We’ve arrived.”
Hutch shook her head. It just didn’t feel right. A jump that had lasted a fraction of a second.
Antonio was looking up at the display. “Are we done? Is it okay to release this thing?” He didn’t like the restraints.
“One moment,” said Phyl. “Measuring.”
Whatever happened today, it was coming. Near-instantaneous travel would hit in the next generation, or somewhere close down the road. It struck her that the metaphor would itself become obsolete. People living perhaps in the next century would have no concept of road. Or maybe it would survive as a referent to spiritual journeys. It was a sad idea. She wondered whether the fears about a singularity waiting at a given point in scientific research, when too many breakthroughs came together, might not have some validity. Not in the classical sense that here was a rise of the machines or some such wild-eyed notion, but simply that maybe you reached a point where the downside of each technological advance outweighed the advantage. Where the price was too high. Where people fell in love with avatars instead of each other. But no one could stop progress, no matter how much damage it did, because it had become a kind of religion.
Phyl’s voice again: “Range to Seabright is 285 million kilometers.”
“We lost ground,” said Antonio. “How could that happen?”
Hutch released her belt. “Matt?”
Matt came off the bridge, looking chagrined. “I think we’re on the other side,” he said. “We jumped half a billion klicks. Maybe we were a bit too cautious.”
Antonio was making notes. “Best system in the world doesn’t do you much good if you can’t get where you’re going.”
Jon appeared in the hatch behind Matt. “I guess we missed,” he said. “It’ll just be a matter of making some adjustments. We have to feel our way. Can’t have everything overnight.”
ANTONIO WAS ANNOYED that he couldn’t report back. The Locarno couldn’t really be a success, he told Jon, until it included an advanced communication device.
“I haven’t had time to work on it,” said Jon. “Sorry. But it keeps everything we’re doing mysterious. That should be good. People will be wondering what’s going on out here.”
Antonio went back to his notebook. “I forgot about that aspect of things. I’m going to have to rewrite this,” he complained.
“Why?” asked Matt.
“‘As we stand here,’” he read, “‘looking out at this magnificent sun…’”
“It’s a little hyperbolic, isn’t it?” said Matt.
Antonio’s features darkened. “It’s supposed to be. Audiences like hyperbolic.”
“They’re nitwits,” said Matt.
Antonio shook his head. “Not exactly. But they do like over the top. That’s the reality. The Brits have a taste for understatement. But they’re pretty much in it alone.”
“They’re still nitwits.”
“You sound like somebody else I know,” said Hutch.
“Who’s that?”
“Gregory MacAllister.”
Matt nodded. “One of my favorite people.”
SHE FELT ALIVE. She looked out at strange constellations, configurations she hadn’t seen in decades.
Antonio came over and joined her. Gazed through the viewport. “Lovely,” he said.
“What’s the range of the Locarno?” asked Rudy. “Could we cross the galaxy with this thing
?”
Jon shook his head. “Not in one jump. I haven’t really worked out the details yet, but it’s not like the Hazeltine, where once you’re in hyperspace, you stay there until the system acts to bring you back. We don’t belong in Locarno space, if we can call it that, and it keeps trying to push us out. Sort of like an air-filled balloon trying to stay underwater. So the system uses energy throughout the transit. When it runs out of energy, the ship will pop back into normal space.”
“But obviously,” Rudy continued, “we can manage fifty or sixty light-years.”
“Oh, yes. And considerably better than that. I’d guess we could jump ten thousand or so. But that’s only a guess. We’re just going to have to try it and see what happens.”
Hutch could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Ten thousand light-years?”
Jon smiled. “Interesting to think about, isn’t it?”
“It sure is. It really does put the entire galaxy within reach.”
“Why stop there?” asked Rudy.
Matt took a deep breath. “You’re talking what? Andromeda?”
“Why not?”
THEY RELEASED A probe to take pictures of the Preston against the backdrop of Alioth. Phyl adjusted the lenses and filters so the probe wasn’t blinded. She also got pictures of the ship approaching Seabright, gliding past a gas giant, and running alongside a comet.
Phyl prepared a special meal, and they sat down to spaghetti and meatballs, not usually the fare you’d expect on a superluminal. “Things change,” said Matt, “when you only have to feed everybody once.”
They opened a fresh bottle of wine. Filled the glasses and did another round of toasts. “To real estate dealers,” said Jon.
Hutch raised her glass. “Realtors conquer the world.”
Jon watched Antonio writing something into his notebook. “Do you actually have a science background?” he asked.
“Me?” Antonio’s smile widened. It was self-deprecating, genuine, warm. “I was a journalism major,” he said.
“But you’re the science guy for Worldwide. How’d that happen?”
Rudy shook his head. “Jon, Antonio used to be Dr. Science.”
Jon frowned. “Who?”
“Dr. Science. You’re not going to tell me you don’t know who Dr. Science is?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Not at all.”
Jon stared hard at Antonio. “You know, I thought you looked familiar. More than from the Worldwide shows.”
“Hello, boys and girls,” said Antonio, mimicking the voice he’d used years before. “Today we’re going to be talking about event horizons and why we shouldn’t go near them.”
“But you were a journalism major?” persisted Jon.
“Worldwide gave me the science beat because they think I’m pretty good at explaining things so ordinary people can understand them.”
“But how do you do it if you don’t have the physics yourself?”
“I get somebody like you to lay it out for me, then I just translate it into plain English and relay it.” He finished whatever he’d been writing, closed the machine with a sweep of his right arm, and sat back in his chair. “So,” he said, “what’s next?”
Jon looked puzzled. “Next? This is where I wanted to go. Eighty light-years by dinnertime.”
“That’ll be a good title for your autobiography,” said Rudy.
Antonio agreed. “Absolutely right,” he said. “But where do you go from here? What are you going to do about licensing the Locarno? I think you’ve just become the richest guy on the planet.”
“Maybe. I hope so.”
“Has anybody bid yet for manufacturing rights?”
“Everybody in town. It looks as if tours are going to be big again. For a while anyhow. Luxuriat is talking about picking up where Carmody left off.” Carmody had run the luxury flights during the golden years.
“And you’re going to let them have it?” Rudy’s face had gone pale.
“I haven’t decided which one yet.”
“Depends on who makes the best offer?” said Matt.
“Yeah. Something like that.”
LIBRARY ENTRY
The Locarno is simply another novelty. We’ll be replacing the Hazeltine with it, and we’ll go considerably farther than we ever did before, and we’ll learn the same lesson: Life is a rare commodity in the universe. And intelligence even more so. I suspect it can do no harm, as long as we don’t start spending tax money on it again.
—Op-ed by Gregory MacAllister,
Worldwide News Service, Tuesday, September 18
chapter 20
THEY GOT THE good jump Matt had hoped for. Not good enough to make the late shuttle, but enough to bring them into Union in the morning. A crowd was waiting. Some carried signs reading ON TO ANDROMEDA and MOVIN’ OUT. One attractive young woman carried a banner stenciled MARRY ME, JON.
Other signs reflected different sentiments: LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE and SHUT DOWN THE LOCARNO and DON’T COME BACK. But the dissidents were outnumbered. There was some pushing and shoving, and a fight broke out. But the security people were there.
Someone, in a high-pitched voice, asked whether they’d made Alioth. The crowd held its collective breath while Jon paused for dramatic effect. “Yes,” he said, finally. “We’ve been there and come home.”
The crowd roared.
EVENTUALLY THEY GOT away into a room reserved by Rudy. Journalists showed up, and Foundation supporters, so the place quickly overflowed.
Matt showed pictures from the flight, shots of Alioth, the five voyagers crowded onto the bridge moments after their arrival, Matt hunched over the instruments, Hutch and Jon gazing out the viewport, Rudy trying to look like Columbus, and Antonio taking notes.
Refreshments arrived.
One of the Orion Tours people came in, and Rudy watched with distaste as she curled up next to Jon. She was all smiles and casual talk, but she’d be offering a contract shortly. Come with us, and we’ll make you a better deal than anyone else can. He wasn’t sure why, but the notion of rich morons running around the galaxy sightseeing, oh, Jerry, look at the black hole, irritated him. He wondered if tourists from somewhere else had ever come to Earth, maybe watched the Roman circuses or sat in the Academy, the real Academy, with Plato and Socrates.
He was tired. It had been a long day, and he couldn’t take all-nighters anymore. He put down the drink he’d been nursing and said good night to Hutch and Matt. He was unable to catch Jon’s eye, gave it up, and left.
He’d just gotten into his room when the hotel AI announced he had a call. “From Dr. Silvestri, sir.”
“Rudy,” Jon said, “I didn’t expect you to leave so early.”
Rudy collapsed into a chair. “I was wiped out, Jon.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I guess it is a bit late.” He was standing, and it looked as if he was still at the party. But his features became suddenly serious. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m grateful for the Foundation’s support. For your support, Rudy. I won’t forget it.”
“You’re welcome, Jon. I’m glad the Foundation was in a position to help.”
“I have a question for you.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“Kosmik wants to run a mission to the core.”
“I’ve heard the rumors.”
“Rudy, they’re offering me a lot of money for licensing rights to the Locarno. So they can make the first flight. They want to equip a small fleet and go after the source of the omegas. See what they are. Where they come from.”
“It’s a worthy cause.”
“I know.” For a long moment he was silent. “I understand Epcott’s going to make an offer, too.”
“Congratulations, Jon.”
“Without you and the Foundation, Rudy, it would never have happened.”
Rudy managed a smile.
“I plan to split the money with the Foundation, Rudy. You’re a worthy cause, too.”
“
Thank you. That’s very generous, Jon.”
There was another long pause. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“That’s not the message I’m getting.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Jon.” Just let it go.
“Rudy, we can’t attempt a mission like that with one ship.”
“You’re right. That’s absolutely right.”
“If there was any kind of mechanical problem, everybody’d be dead.”
“I know. You’re absolutely right.”
“So then why are you annoyed with me?”
“Because you never asked.”
“Asked what?”
“Whether we could get a second ship.”
“Can you?”
“Of course.”
“You wouldn’t kid me?”
“Never.”
“You really want to go?”
“Jon, I’d kill to make that flight.”
“Good.”
“Thanks.”
“Hell, Rudy, it’s your ship. Your ships.” Someone stopped to talk with him. Then he was back. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“We’ll need two pilots. I want to ask Matt. If that’s okay.”
“Sure. Who else did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you’d suggest someone.”
“How about Hutch?”
He did not look receptive. “I don’t think she still has a license. Anyhow, she resisted making the Alioth flight. You think she’d consider something like this? Going to the core?”
“There’s one way to find out.”
ANTONIO’S NOTES
I knew something was going on. While everybody else was singing “The Rockaway Blues” and Harry McLain was playing the theme from the old Midnight Moon VR show, Jon, Hutch, and Matt were off to one side talking. Lots of excitement. When they broke up, they all looked pretty happy. Then Jon spotted me. He came over, grabbed my shoulder, and pulled me out of the room. He told me he had an exclusive for me, something to go with the story I’d filed about the flight to Alioth. “We’re going to the core,” he said. “We’re going to look for the source of the omegas.” And after I got through asking when they’d be leaving, and who else was going, and what they expected to find, he told me he had a question for me. “Yeah,” I said. “What is it?” And he said, “Antonio, you want to come? You’re invited.”
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