Starhawk (A Priscilla Hutchins Novel)

by McDevitt, Jack

  “Don’t know.” The base of the chair was torn apart, as if it had been wrenched out of the deck. “Explosion?” Priscilla asked.

  “I don’t think so. It’s not scorched. And most of it looks okay.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I have no idea. Myra, any theories?”

  “No, Jake. I do not understand it.”

  Whatever it was, Jake had no expectation of finding survivors.

  Isha, farewell.

  * * *

  THEY TOOK THE chair topside to the passenger cabin. Jake wedged it between cabinets and secured it with cable. Then he recorded an account of what they’d found, included some pictures, and sent it to Union. “They’re not going to be happy,” Priscilla said.

  Jake grunted his response. There was no way this was going to end well. He hadn’t actually ever been close to Isha. He’d taken her out a few times, and even slept with her once, but there’d been no real chemistry on either side. At least not as far as he could determine. But he’d liked her. She’d been a good woman. She’d loved telling stories about how her family had reacted to her career choice. Absolutely crazy. It was a common narrative for pilots. Her dad had been a policeman, and he didn’t think riding around on a rocket was a good idea. For one thing, it wasn’t safe. For another, he’d argued, there was no future in spaceflight. “It’s all going to go away; and then where will you be?”

  “How,” asked Priscilla, “can you explain any of this? How does this thing get torn out of the deck, but there’s no explosion?”

  “I don’t know,” Jake said.

  There was fear in her eyes. “At the moment,” she said, “I’m feeling a little bit spooked.” She stared at the chair. “What happened to you, anyhow?”

  It’s definitely not a good sign, he thought, when you start talking to the furniture.

  * * *

  “DO WE WANT to continue the search on the ground?” asked Myra. “Or should we concentrate on looking for other objects up here?”

  “Keep the sensors pointed down,” Jake said.

  They continued shifting from orbit to orbit, looking out at a relentlessly unchanging sky. They ate a listless dinner in the passenger cabin and went back onto the bridge. Priscilla eventually put a book on her display and tried to lose herself in it. Jake played poker with three AI partners. And then, when he was expecting Myra II to lay down a flush against his three queens, she surprised him: “We have lights.”

  “Lights?” Priscilla looked up from her book. Jake forgot about the game.

  “Where?” he said.

  They blinked on the display, glimmers in the cloud cover. Six glowing spots in the night. No, seven. In a line. “Off to starboard.”

  “It’s a storm,” Jake said. “Lightning. That’s all it can be.”

  “Jake,” said Priscilla, “it does not look like lightning.” For one thing, it was a steady glow.

  “Okay. Lock in the position. We’ll take a look next time around.”

  * * *

  CIRCLING A COMPLETELY dark world was, for Jake, a new experience. There was a different sense of movement than one would get while orbiting Earth, or any planet in a star system. You did not, as normally happened, pursue the sun across the sky, pass beneath it, and eventually leave it behind. There was rarely any horizon. Instead, you traveled across an apparently flat landscape, which revealed only shadows and mist. It was a flat landscape that went on forever, a place made for ghosts. He wouldn’t have admitted it even to himself, but he was glad he wasn’t alone.

  “The lights must have been reflections,” Priscilla said.

  “Okay. But reflections of what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s a pity,” he said, “we didn’t find their AI instead of just a chair.”

  “It would have helped. We should take McGruder on a flight like this. Maybe he’d change his mind about defunding the program.”

  Jake grunted. “I don’t think I’d want to spend a week or two locked in here with a politician.”

  “That’s a point.”

  “What were you reading?”

  “How Laura Kingman saved the space program. Back in the NASA days.”

  “The woman who took out the asteroid.”

  “And killed herself in the process.”

  “I thought,” said Jake, “the consensus was that it would have missed anyhow. That it was close, but it wasn’t going to hit anything.”

  “What’s the difference?” asked Priscilla. “At the time, she couldn’t be sure. So she took no chances.”

  “Try to imagine your buddy McGruder doing what she did.”

  “He’s not my buddy, Jake. But actually, we have no way of knowing what he would do.”

  Jake tried to laugh, but it didn’t happen. He wondered whether he would have done it himself. He knew how he’d have answered that question a couple of months ago. Not so sure anymore. “Myra,” he said, “have you seen any more lights?”

  “Be assured, Jake,” Myra said, “I’d have told you if I did.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why’d you ask?”

  Because it had been time to change the subject. He saw that Priscilla understood it as well. “So how’s Roanoke treating you?” she asked.

  * * *

  WHEN THEY RETURNED to the site, the lights were still there, seven of them emitting a soft, golden glow. “Are they moving?” asked Priscilla.

  “I don’t think so,” said Jake.

  There was a pause. Then Myra: “Negative movement.”

  Jake split the screen. Compared the lights in the two sightings. “They’re brighter now.”

  Priscilla took a long look. “I think you’re right,”

  “We are at the same range,” said Myra.

  It could have been a line of stalled cars in a heavy rainstorm. But the lights in the rear were growing brighter. Then they dimmed, and the enhanced illumination passed like a wave along the group toward the front. And faded.

  “Holy cats,” said Priscilla. “Did you see that?”

  The process started again. The rear of the line of lights brightened, and the effect once more moved forward.

  “It’s a signal,” said Jake.

  “You mean for us?”

  “I have no idea, Priscilla. Myra, is there any way that could be a signal from the Vincenti?”

  “Jake, I cannot conceive how anyone on board could have created those images.”

  “It’s probably just a variation of ball lightning or something,” said Priscilla.

  “I can’t imagine ball lightning in this kind of climate.”

  “Well, I’m open to a better explanation.”

  “Check with me later.” They were drawing abreast of the lights now. “We’re going to have to go down and look,” he said.

  “Okay. We should be able to catch it on the next round.”

  “Myra, transmission for Union.”

  “Ready when you are, Jake.”

  “Ops from Baumbachner. We are seeing lights below, in one area only. They’re included in the transmission. We have no explanation for them. On next orbit, I’ll take the lander down, and will let you know what they are.”

  Priscilla took a deep breath. “They’re just going to be some sort of electricity generated by the atmosphere.”

  “You’re probably right.” He was still looking at the images on the display. “I’ll send everything back, and you can relay it to Union.”

  Priscilla frowned and shook her head. No. “Jake,” she said, “I’m not going to let you go down there alone.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think there may be some confusion here, Priscilla, about who’s in charge.”

  “Come on, Jake. You going to pull rank?”

  “Yes, since I apparently ha
ve to. Look, Priscilla, it’s just not smart for both of us to go. You know that as well as I do.”

  “Jake—”

  “I’ll stay in contact with you the whole time. If anything happens, if we lose touch, give me an hour or so. If you still don’t hear from me, clear out. Understand?”

  “This feels like what happened last time.”

  Jake sucked in air. “I hope not, Priscilla.”

  * * *

  BAUMBACHNER LOG

  This is a futile effort. Whatever dragged the captain’s chair off the bridge and out of the ship could not have done it without wrecking the vehicle. It’s been almost a week since they were last heard from. Even if someone had made it to the lander and managed to launch, there would not have been enough air to keep him alive all this time. But nobody’s going to say we didn’t try.

  Priscilla thinks it’s not a good idea for me to go down alone. Let the record show that she demanded to go along. I have had to order her to stay with the Baumbachner.

  —Jake Loomis, February 8, 2196

  Chapter 39

  THE BAUMBACHNER LANDER entered the atmosphere and rode down through clear dark skies. The lights were still there, floating lazily in the dark. They were still rippling in that same melodic way. A visual symphony. There was an elegance to it, a glowing softness, as if he were watching an HV show in which they were getting ready to roll the credits.

  “Jake.” Priscilla’s voice. “Can you make out what they are?”

  “Still just lights, Priscilla. If it weren’t for the wave, I’d say they were Chinese lanterns.”

  “That would be a shock. Can you tell how high they are?”

  “Looks like ground level. Andrea, what do you think?” Andrea was the lander AI.

  “They are close to the surface, Jake. But they are not on the surface.”

  “Can you see anything else?” Priscilla asked. “Anything on the ground?”

  “Priscilla, I can’t see the ground. It’s pretty dark down there.”

  “Are they moving at all?”

  “No. As far as I can tell, there’s no movement whatever.” The sensors gradually acquired the landscape. It was hilly, with a couple of ravines, and everything rimmed by a circle of mountains. He was descending into a bowl. “Priscilla, whatever the lights are, I don’t see how they can be natural. Something’s down there.”

  “They seem,” said Andrea, “to be clustered over a fairly small area, Jake.”

  “How small?”

  “I cannot tell with precision.”

  “Give me a guess.”

  “I would say perhaps three kilometers in length. And they do not appear to be on the ground. But I would say they are only a few meters above it.”

  * * *

  THE BRIGHTENING AND dimming still ran from one end of the series to the other, which he could not avoid thinking of as rear to front. Accept that logic, and the line was pointing directly at one of the hills. In fact the lead light was almost resting on the crest.

  He circled the area and trained a spotlight on the hill. The top consisted of a slice of flat ground. “Something’s there,” he told Priscilla.

  “What, Jake?”

  “Hold on.” He got one of the scopes on it. “It’s the lander.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Do I sound as if I’m kidding?”

  “Okay. Good. It’s the one from the Vincenti?”

  “I can’t really tell yet. But it’s hard to imagine where else it might have come from.”

  “What kind of shape’s it in, Jake?”

  “Actually, it looks okay. Except that the wings are off.” How in hell had it gotten there? There was no way a lander could have come down intact on that hilltop. Even had its wings been in place. One was lying in the snow halfway down the slope. “I don’t understand this,” he said. “It looks as if it landed without incident. Except for the wrecked wings.”

  He descended past the lights and looked for an area to land. He got lucky: There was an unbroken stretch of ground about a kilometer away. It was, however, covered by snow or ice, and it was surrounded by mounds and rocks. Getting into it would be a squeeze, but he could see no easy alternative. “What do you think, Andrea? Can we manage that?”

  “I am not comfortable with the selection. The surface will be icy, Jake. We might easily end as part of the real estate. I recommend we abort.”

  “We can do it,” he said.

  “I have logged my view on this matter,” said Andrea, in a disapproving voice.

  “Okay.”

  “Keep in mind, Captain Loomis, that if this goes wrong, I will be left to shoulder the blame.” The AI, of course, was not really annoyed. It wasn’t a conscious entity although it was easy sometimes to forget that. This was simply the Authority’s way of warning against bad behavior.

  He swung wide over the battered surface. “Priscilla,” he said, “do you see that?”

  “Yes. I see it. Jake, it scares me.”

  “Have a little faith, kid.”

  “Are you going down?”

  “No way I can’t.”

  “Just be careful, okay?”

  He lined up for his landing and began his final descent. Gorges, rocks, crevices, and hilltops rose to meet him. He got a better look at the lights, which were only a few meters above the ground. The night was still. That was definitely good. He wouldn’t have wanted to attempt this with a crosswind.

  “You’re approaching too fast,” said Andrea.

  He eased in until the wheels touched down, but she was right and he pulled back, lifted off, and circled around for another try.

  Okay. Just take it easy. He cut forward speed as much as he could, dropped down toward the rocks, and came in so close his wheels must almost have touched them. Then he was on the ground again. He went into a skid, came off the brakes, and regained control. The rocks and clumps of ice on either side raced past and gradually slowed. The other end of the field was blocked off by more rocks. They came rapidly closer, slowed, and finally stopped as the lander swung to the side and almost tipped over. He took a deep breath. “Nice landing, boss,” said Priscilla. Her voice had been getting weaker as the distance between them increased.

  He couldn’t tell whether it was her cynical side, so he played it straight. “Thanks, Priscilla.” He turned the spacecraft around and aimed it back the way he’d come. “Always a good idea to be able to leave in a hurry,” he told her. But the only reply was static. He climbed out of his seat, pinned an imager to his vest pocket, and activated his Flickinger gear. A light breeze pushed against the lander. He pulled a radio transmitter out of one of the storage cabinets, to leave at the site so a future mission, should there be one, would be able to locate the downed vehicle.

  When he looked outside again, the lights that had guided him in were growing dimmer. Going dark. As he watched, they went out.

  What the hell was going on?

  He checked his wrist light, attached the oxygen tanks, went through the air lock, and opened the outer hatch. Carefully. He looked around to assure himself he was alone. The only movement came from the wind. After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped down onto the ice.

  The snowscape glittered. He left the outer hatch open and started toward the hill. He wouldn’t have admitted it to Priscilla, but he was scared. Something had led him here, and he wondered if it was the same something that had ripped the Vincenti apart and brought the lander down into this godforsaken place.

  Come into my parlor.

  But the night seemed empty.

  He was about to turn his wrist light on, but changed his mind. He didn’t need it, and there was no point drawing unnecessary attention to himself.

  Gravity was high. His weight had gone up by about twenty pounds. He lost his balance once and almost fell on his rear end. He recalled
Tracy Blesko, an engineer whom he’d known years before. Tracy had been walking on Europa, in a Flickinger suit, of course, when he slipped and fell. He’d damaged the control unit, the power had shut down, and that had been the end of Tracy. They’d redesigned the unit since then, and claimed a recurrence wasn’t possible. But Jake never trusted manufacturers’ claims. So, on that icy ground, he moved cautiously.

  The climb up the hill was longer than it had appeared from the ship. But eventually, and without incident, he got to the top. The downed lander lay dark and still, half-covered with snow. Nothing moved inside. One of the rear thruster tubes was missing. Cables and support rods hung loose. Jake stared at it. Add the missing wings, and there was no way this thing could have reached the ground without getting splattered.

  He looked around again, but in all that wide expanse there was no movement. He walked to the air lock and pressed the pad.

  * * *

  THE INTERIOR WAS warm, and still had power. He saw a body in the after section, lying behind the rear seats. There were no others. He was relieved to see that it wasn’t Isha. Death in the lander would have been slow. He looked at the pictures of the passengers and recognized Otto Schreiber, the young man from Leipzig who’d been working on his doctorate. He was about twenty years old. Looked as if he’d been dead for two or three days.

  “Hello,” said an unfamiliar voice on his commlink.

  His heart almost stopped before he realized who it was. “You’re the AI,” he said.

  “Yes. My name is Simon. I am very happy to see you. I was afraid we would never be found.”

  “You did manage to put yourself in a remote place, Simon. How did it happen?”

  “I do not know, sir.”

  “My name’s Jake.”

  “Greetings, Jake. I wish you could have gotten here in time to save Otto.”

  “I do, too. Did he suffocate?”

  “Yes. It was painful to watch.”

  “I’m sorry.” He looked out at the landscape, still, somehow, half-expecting to see something coming toward him. “You say you don’t know what happened?”

  “No, Jake. We were on the Vincenti. Otto was loading the lander. Preparing it for a descent. They were going to go down and take some soil samples, gather rocks for mineralogical purposes. Then, suddenly, I heard strange sounds, like metal tearing, coming apart. And people began screaming. The ship lurched, first left, then right. Otto was thrown against a bulkhead. Isha got on the commlink and ordered Otto to get inside the lander. He said he was inside the lander. So she closed the air lock and opened the launch doors. She must have overridden the protocol that prevents opening them until the bay is depressurized. The ship sounded as if it was coming apart.”