Ravi scoffed. “We could do that work just as well back on Alcyone. We will find out soon enough what they want. But I tell you now – somebody is going to ask for false precision. What if I go pee now instead of later, how will that affect the valuation of the discovery?”
“I’m sure there’s a good reason,” Sonia offered.
“They think they can read the clouds. An augury.” Ravi pointed out the large picture window at a wisp of nebula, part of the cluster in which they lived and were now departing. “You can see what you want in the image. Maybe it is the shape of conquest and triumph of new markets, or perhaps it looks like a monkey’s paw. We calculate the clouds of probability, for the effects of this action or that. And we dress the charts up in our colors, happy green or warning red, add textures and shades, so it all looks like it makes sense. And so scientific.”
“But the latest results are very clear,” objected Merriam. “We found the scenario where the value flies off the charts. The model’s not lying about that.”
Ravi set his hands together with fingers pointing in several different directions. “How many dimensions are in the model? We all know, it is sixteen. And in any portrayal, we can show only three. Maybe four or even five with some tricks.”
“But the De Beers method sure is working, for a recent example,” Merriam pointed out.
Several years ago, Sonia and her team had pioneered a new algorithm that had greatly increased the value returned from the exploration of new hyperspace glomes and new planets. A few simple insights, and some very complex math, had led to a strategy that had yielded trillions for her sponsors. Instead of racing each other to publish their glome discoveries in a haphazard manner, the Sisters had all agreed to an orderly method and timing for publication of the discoveries, to maximize all of their gains.
“Yes, it is working,” Ravi grudged. “For a certain purpose, during a certain time. Still, it is not the same as knowing. To imagine that we can really know, when we only look at a few dimensions at a time, is like taking a thin slice of your brain and trying to figure out what you are thinking.”
Sonia couldn’t resist. “That’s easy. If a slice of your brain is missing, you’re not thinking much anymore.”
“Very funny, Sonia. You know what I mean. We make the clouds for our sponsors, but no mortal can truly read them. The reason is obvious – because we are talking about the future.”
The captain of the yacht entered the room. “The security review has been waived,” he told them. “Getting you to Kelter is some kind of emergency. So I’m going to kick in full acceleration to our exit glome. Please settle back and don’t try to get out of your seat.”
The captain left, and moments later they all felt the extra weight, more than a full gravity. It might be as many as two. Sonia raised her right arm a few centimeters, then carefully let it settle back to the padded armrest. The yacht could move when it needed to.
Sonia reflected. She had not been given a choice about leaving Alcyone, but she had extracted a concession. A large one. She and her domestic family would be receiving coverage for the Parrin Process. Decades more added to their lives. Perhaps even centuries.
In theory, anyone could buy the treatment. In reality, there was no way to pay for it. Tens of millions of credits per year, per person. The only way to afford the Parrin Process was to get it on your health plan. Parrin coverage was reserved for executives and heads of state.
And now, for Sonia and those she loved.
There had been hints that it was coming. A reward for her work. She had forced the issue, but her wrangler had given in quickly. It might have been planned for her anyway.
Alcyone was the best possible place to live. The best environment for her children. When you came right down to it, the only problem was knowing of the places you could never go, and people you would never see again. Friends and relatives you would never even communicate with, for the rest of your life.
For her daughters, it was different, perhaps better. They had been born on Alcyone. To them, other worlds were just a theory. And now they might get to live, in that place, for centuries.
Assuming that Sonia was able to see this mission through.
Beg, Borrow, or Steal
Mira stopped at the door in front of her. DelMonaco Shipping. The last place in all of known space she ever imagined she would go voluntarily.
Mira knew that she had no choice. There were no ships to be found, not for her. Except, perhaps, in this office.
For the past two years, Mira had been a model citizen. As model as she could ever be, anyway. Maintaining her licenses. Following regulations, when she got a chance to fly. Nurturing her credit.
But memories were long, and the algorithms were implacable. When it came to the question of running her own charter, Mira didn’t rate. Not by hundreds of points.
She had flown often in those two years, most of the time as lead pilot. It was a position of considerable responsibility, but still just crew. An employee. Pilot, not captain, even of a shuttle to Top Station and back.
To get the ship she needed, Mira would have to beg. She wondered if she had it in her.
It was time. Mira took another step forward and the door slid aside for her, revealing a reception area with a high ceiling. Directly in front of her was an enormous painting of a desert scene, on a shimmering high-resolution screen. By Kate, of course. If you come to her office, you have to admire her art, Mira thought to herself.
An ostentatious fish tank lined the entire wall to her right to a height just below her chin, while a sheet of water flowed down a steep slab of sandstone to the left. The displays were an intentional waste of resources, as was the human receptionist, who now looked up at Mira expectantly.
“I’m Mira Adastra,” she told the man, “and I need to see Kate. Right now. I called ahead.”
“Ms. DelMonaco has been in a meeting the entire time since you called,” he told Mira. “I’ll see what I can do, but we’ll just call it a busy day.”
“I’ll wait,” Mira told him. “But I need to see her as soon as possible.”
She sensed something, but there was nobody else in the room. Where? Through the water of the tropical tank, she saw the distorted shapes of people walking in the hall beyond. Parts of rainbow-hued arms, torsos, and legs refracted off the dividers in the tank. Could that be her? And then Mira was sure.
She took three long steps, then bent down for a clear view through the tank. Looking back up, she saw the underside of Kate DelMonaco’s chin.
Mira saw Kate take one more step forward, and then suddenly stop. Kate’s face turned slowly down and toward Mira.
For the world’s longest three-second interval, they simply looked at each other. A parrotfish swam slowly between them, eclipsing their connection. Then Mira saw Kate turn and walk briskly forward.
The door opened and Kate hurried out.
Quickly Mira reached to shake hands. It was better than the alternative, she remembered well.
If it was costume day, then Kate was playing an executive. A spotless charcoal suit. Her black hair was tightly up in a bun. Mira recalled how Kate always liked it to flow wherever it would. Kate might even be wearing makeup, which she had always disdained.
“Mira! It’s wonderful to see you, but I’m deep in a project right now. Can we get together soon?” As if they would ever visit socially.
“I’ll only take a minute, and it’s important. Kate, I need a ship, and I need it now. Anything that will fly.”
Kate stopped dead and just looked at her. “A ship.”
“Yes.”
“Are you planning anything in particular? With the ship, I mean.”
Mira plowed ahead. “I’ve got a job that’ll cover all the costs. Bringing some samples to Top Station.”
“Samples. Mira, you’re a wonderful pilot. I’m grateful for all the times you took Evan and me to Foray and back. But really, I’m not sure that …” Kate’s voice trailed off and her eyes widened as s
he studied Mira with terawatt intensity.
Kate turned abruptly. “Come to my office,” she said, and bounded to the door, only briefly holding it for Mira to catch up. A short hallway and they were in Kate’s office.
Kate waved an arm. “Out!” Three men and a woman scurried from the space, the last one closing the door behind him.
This was a different Kate than Mira remembered. Kate was a dilettante writer and artist, living off the riches that had been left to her. Always wanting to connect with people and find insights into timeless truths. A patron of the arts and sciences, especially exoarchaeology.
But not today. A lot had evidently changed in the last two years.
Kate fixed her eyes on Mira. “What do you know? Tell me!”
“Know? About what? I just need a ship.”
There was no hiding the bone from this dog. “You know something,” Kate asserted. “The ship. Was he on board like they’ve been saying on the news?”
Mira cast around. What should she say? Was it even safe to speak here? “I have a contact at Top Station. Who might have something. That’s all I know. And I have to get there.”
“So, just get a seat on a shuttle. They leave every hour.”
Mira was still trying to reconcile her image of Kate with the woman she was seeing in front of her. In her actual physical features, she was not so different after two years. Same nose, slightly turned up, same full lips, same wide smooth cheeks.
And then Mira had it. Kate had tidied up. The mole she had always said was part of what creation had given her – it was gone. The freckles that had always seemed at odds with her dark hair, either covered up or removed.
“The suggestion was to bring my own ship.” It was all Mira could come up with.
Kate appeared to turn inward. “A ship. On the worst possible day. Okay, this is solvable. That’s what Evan would say.” Then she looked back up. “How soon can you be ready?”
“Lead me to her.”
“Get your cargo and meet me in Bay Nine in fifteen minutes. But you’re not getting off that easy. I’m going with you.”
Mira should have known. She could think of lots of adjectives to describe Kate, but cowardly wasn’t one of them. Nor stupid. She had quickly figured out that the request related in some way to Evan.
Mira headed out of the office to get her kit.
Twelve minutes and thirty seconds later, she stood at the gates to Bay Nine. No sign of Kate.
Thirteen minutes.
And then Kate was there, sporting a shoulder bag. “Let’s go,” was all she said. Mira followed her, scanning through the gate.
Inside, a group from the CoreValue Family awaited them. “Ms. DelMonaco,” the apparent squad leader intoned, “we have been instructed to accompany you in completing the inventory of your family’s space-going vessels as part of the −”
“Merger discussion,” Kate interrupted. “I thought we had another day to complete that, but as you like. Just let me dispatch my tech to get some work done.” She turned to Mira. “Here, let me opt you the PIN for Shuttle AL-44.” She typed on her tablet and held it up. Mira reflexively pulled out her tablet and held a corner out, almost touching Kate’s, in the standard pose for receiving an optical transmittal.
In the moment that the transmittal was in process, Mira saw Kate staring hard at her, clearly desperate to convey something. But what? Then the mask was back on.
After the expected beep, Kate was already pivoting away. “This way, gentlemen,” she called, and walked off down a lane between ships. Mira was reminded of a scene in a show she had once seen, of a duck on old Earth, pretending to be injured to draw predators away from the nest.
What in the world was Kate doing now? Sending her out to turn a wrench?
There was one way to find out. Mira asked her tablet to locate AL-44. It was a longish walk to a far corner of the bay. She found herself walking past shuttles of diminishing size and increasing age.
Then she saw AL-44. It must be some kind of joke. An AL class, as the designation suggested, which meant the craft was not exactly new. It dawned on Mira that the 44 might mean it was the 44th ever built in the series. Which would make it over a half-century old.
Mira figured she might as well find out what Kate had in mind, sending her on this goose chase. She asked her pad to display the content of the transmittal from Kate. It read:
PIN = Elanas42 ---- GO!!!!!
Go? On this shuttle? Seriously? And what had happened to Kate’s avowed intent to ride along with her?
She would be better off alone. If Kate said “Go,” then that was fine with her.
Mira entered the PIN on the ship’s keypad, and climbed aboard the junker.
Part 2: Fly Casual
Foray
There was no need to check the math yet again. Evan, in his EVA suit, had entered an elliptical, but stable, orbit around Foray, moon of Kelter Four.
Evan looked out on the vista. The amber cube rotated, so slowly, directly in the middle of his field of view. He played focus games, creating two amber blobs by looking out to Foray, then splitting the enormous moon by directing his vision inward to the cube, just thirty centimeters away. He had figured out that Foray was farther away than the cube by a factor of about one million.
He should have put the cube away some time ago. Any kind of radiation, including sunlight, could degrade the information inside. Over the course of a few thousand years, anyway. Another little while wouldn’t hurt.
Evan could acquire a far better image of his surroundings than the direct visual, at any time, by asking the suit to display an image in front of him. He could ask to see in any direction, at magnifications greater or lesser. Color enhancement. Vector overlays with the recent and projected courses of other vessels. Any movie ever made.
And so he mostly just looked out.
Evan wondered if there was something inherently relaxing about extending his vision to focus on infinite distance, as opposed to staring at the screen just in front of him.
Perhaps there was no need for a reason.
Foray had continued to grow, revealing features that Evan had seen many times while commuting between the Valley of Dreams on Kelter and the surface of Foray. The Twin Rivers. Sea of Galilee. Great Western Ocean.
There was an obvious theme to the names. They were all based on a longing for what was most treasured, and most scarce, on the surface of Kelter.
Now, his orbital track was taking him around Foray, swinging away from the bright gem of Top Station until it was occluded from view.
“Suit, is there any way to land on Foray?”
“No. We cannot leave orbit of Foray.”
The suit did not sound impatient, but Evan had noticed that the answer had grown progressively shorter over the times he had asked. Perhaps, somewhere in the suit’s algorithm, there was a point where it would be time to tell him, “Give it a rest! It’s not going to happen!”
Was it time to give up and call for help? If he was going to do it, it would be ironic if he then failed to send out the SOS in time. Even those who might be adversaries would need some time to get to his location.
It was far past time. There must be some way to call in the right manner, to the right destination, that would be safest. Evan had considered the possibilities endlessly in the past few hours. There was still no choice that he believed in.
“Ship approaching,” the suit told him. “Accelerating at one point four five gravities to match your course.”
No matter what approached, it had to be better than spending his last minutes entombed in the EVA.
“Provide the best available image of the ship,” Evan told the suit. “Use the entire screen.”
It was small, and that was good news. It was not a missile, even better. Over a few endless and silent minutes, the image grew larger and began to resolve in detail. Evan began to hope.
Then he was certain. Beat up and scorched. It was a wonder that thing could fly. He knew only one person wh
o would even consider taking a craft like that into space.
The small ship sidled up, now only a few meters distant. It rotated to show its airlock, then was stationary in relation to Evan’s position.
A minute later, he saw the airlock dilate. A suited figure emerged. Evan saw his rescuer gracefully step into empty space between their vessels, safety line trailing. They drifted closer together.
It would be good not to blow this one. As they came within a meter of each other, Evan decided to let the other person take the action.
As it turned out, it was simple. With practiced ease, the other sent out a weight on the end of a line, just past his hip and then wrapping around him. A quick clip by his rescuer, and Evan had been lassoed.
Just one thing! As he felt the tug, Evan reached out with his thick left mitt to capture the cube in front of him. No time to go back to the thinner glove and put it away properly. The object was somewhere inside the glove now. Evan clenched his hand on the fabric of the inner liner.
He was pulled along as a weightless, although hardly massless, sack of potatoes.
There was only just room for both of them in the lock. Evan found himself folded up with a close view of the other’s knees.
The inner lock opened, and they spilled out.
She pulled off her helmet, and of course it was Mira.
Mira said, “Strap in and don’t talk to me,” then she focused on the controls. The drive kicked in, more than a full gravity by the feel of it. The old bucket could move when it needed to.
Evan unstrapped his left glove and pulled it off, taking care not to lose track of the cube that was clenched within. Then he removed his other glove and his helmet. His hands now free, he tucked the cube into his outer suit pocket.
That taken care of, he looked around. The ship looked a little better on the inside than it had from without. Decently clean. Well used, but functional. Drunk but still standing, as they used to say.
The ship didn’t smell that great. Oh wait. That was him.
The Great Symmetry Page 5