She hesitated, not sure what she’d learned. Something, certainly. “No,” she said. “Still no trace.”
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked. “I read the accounts. You almost lost your life.”
“It was a wild ride,” she admitted.
He sipped his drink. “We always wondered whether Yoshi had been injured in some way, wandered off, who knew?”
There were two framed pictures of her in the room: one as a child of about four standing outside in the patio, holding Sheyel’s hand; and a graduation photo, displaying all her elegance.
“For whatever consolation it may be,” Kim said, “it appears she died quickly.” The preliminary police report had not yet been officially released, and Kim really didn’t know whether Yoshi had suffered. Nevertheless it seemed like the right thing to say.
Sheyel gazed at her through watery eyes. “It’s a terrible thing to be cut down so young.”
Kim said nothing.
He gazed steadily at her. “I take it you didn’t just come to see how I was getting on. What have you to tell me?”
She looked steadily at him. “I have a question first.”
He leaned forward.
“When you originally came to me with this, you told me there was something loose in the Severin woods. That if I doubted you I should just go up and spend a few hours in the area.”
“Yes. I probably said something like that.”
“After dark, I think you said.”
“I don’t recall the conversation in detail.”
“‘I’ve felt it…. Go look for yourself. But don’t go alone.’ That’s what you said.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve done that, Sheyel.”
A chill settled into the room. “And—?”
“You were right. There is something there. What do you know about it?”
“Only that the area is oppressive. I saw lights in the woods a couple of times. There was never anything I could lay hands on though.” His eyes dropped to the floor. “There were some accounts that that was the real reason people left.”
“How could anyone have stayed in the village?” asked Kim. “They were taking down the dam.”
“They decided not to repair the dam because people were clearing out. It wasn’t the other way around.” His eyes were hooded. “There’s a lot of history about it. Check any of the sources.” He went to his shelves and took down several volumes. He tapped his finger on one with a gray cover and artwork depicting a moonlit phantom. “I especially recommend this: Kathryn Kline’s The Specters of Severin.” The phantom looked nothing at all like the apparition Kim had seen.
He went through the others, commenting in a similar manner, laying them before her. “People tend to get overwrought. But the evidence is striking.”
She glanced through them while he refilled their glasses. “I was up there several times. This was years after I’d talked with Kane. The dam was long gone and the place was deserted. You’ve been there, you know what I’m talking about.
“It’s disquieting. Maybe because I knew it was connected with Yoshi’s disappearance. I thought I could feel things moving in the dark. The valley scared me. I don’t think I scare easily, but that place did the deed.” He seemed to withdraw into himself. “Why don’t you tell me what it was you saw?”
“Not really anything,” she said. “It’s just very quiet out there. You understand what I mean?”
He nodded. “Have you learned anything about the Hunter? Was there a contact?”
She showed him the pictures. “I think they encountered another ship, and I think this might be what it looked like.”
He leaned forward, opened a cabinet drawer, and took out a viewing lens. He held it over the images. “You really think so?” he said. The moroseness which had marked the conversation to this point was swept away by a wave of excitement.
“Yes. I think so. There’s no proof. Probably not even strong evidence. But yes, I think it happened.”
His eyes widened as he gazed at the mural. “Why,” he said, “that’s Emily.”
The Conciliar Medal of Valor glittered in the midday sun. Tora Kane held out her hand, took it from Kim, and studied it. She read her father’s name from the obverse. “Where did you get it?” she asked.
“In the Severin Valley.”
Tora’s mood visibly darkened. “You can’t leave it alone, can you?”
“I thought you’d want to have it.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
They were standing on the beach at Wheeling Bay, at the same point where they’d talked before. Kim’s hands were pushed into her jacket pockets. The tide was out, and a few gulls patrolled the wet sand. “It depends on what else you have to tell me. When you’re done with all this poking around, are you going to be making accusations against my father?”
“Do you think he did anything wrong?”
“Look, Kim—” Her teeth bit down on the name. “Markis wasn’t perfect by any means. He had a short temper, and he wasn’t very tactful, and sometimes he forgot he had a daughter. But he was essentially a decent man, and I know he wouldn’t have been mixed up in anything ugly.”
“Did you ever see the inside of the villa?”
“The one in the valley? Sure.”
“Were you inside it at any time after the Mount Hope explosion?”
“Yes,” she said. “I visited my father from time to time. I lived there while I was growing up. When I came of age, my parents let the marriage lapse. But I went back when I could.”
“May I ask when that was?”
“I left the villa in 569. After that I visited occasionally, once or twice a year.”
“Did you happen to notice whether there was a mural in the den?”
“In the den? No, not that I recall.”
“Would you have seen it if there had been?”
“Of course. Listen, what’s this about?”
“There’s a mural there now.”
“So what?”
“The woman in it is my sister.”
“Oh.” She gazed briefly into the sun. “Well. It’s hard for me to see what inference can be drawn from that.”
“Dr. Kane, my understanding is that your father sealed off part of the house after the last Hunter mission. Did you know anything about that?”
“Part of the house?”
“The den.”
“That was his private space. There was nothing unusual about that.”
“Did you have access?”
Kim could see her considering her answer. “No,” she said at last. “Not in the later years. He kept it locked.”
“Did he say why?”
“No. I really didn’t concern myself with it. And I don’t see what business any of this is of yours anyway.”
Kim nodded. “Thank you,” she said.
“Now if you don’t mind—”
“I’m sorry,” said Kim. “Listen, I know you don’t approve of me very much.”
Tora remained silent.
“For what it’s worth, I admire your father.”
“Thanks.”
“I don’t think you need fear for his reputation.”
Tora took a deep breath and turned away.
Kim watched her walk. She was reasonably sure she believed what she had just said.
She had an afternoon engagement next day at the Mariners’ Club, which had nothing whatever to do with boating, but was rather a group of older citizens. The name referred to the members’ view of themselves as persons who had sailed through life, and who had now arrived at safe harbor, and who planned on enjoying the time they had left.
The club seal, displayed on a banner, depicted an anchor and five stars, one for each of the club’s guiding principles, and its motto Keep the Wind at Your Back. Kim had taken time to read the guiding principles and she wove them into her remarks. They were mundane feel-good truisms, like Always walk in the surf, and The only real failure
is failing to try.
The Institute is a lot like the Mariners, she told them. “It’s about stretching horizons and splashing around in the cosmos. And we don’t always succeed on the first try. Life is like that. Science is like that. Like the Mariners, we’re not afraid to fail, and in fact that’s the way we learn.”
As usual, she played her audience well and when she was finished she got an enthusiastic ovation. The emcee thanked her heartily for coming, a number of individuals lingered to ask questions or deliver compliments, one tried to ask her out, and the organization’s president took her aside: 50 percent of the proceeds from the Mariners’ spring fund drive, he explained, were customarily donated to a worthy organization, usually an educational institution. He wanted her to know that he had been impressed by her presentation, that the other board members shared his feeling, and that the Institute could expect to be the recipient of this year’s gift.
It would be no small amount, she knew, and she was delighted to carry this piece of good news back to the Institute.
Matt was waiting. Kim knew it wasn’t good news by the general mood in the office. Something had happened. She suspected her coworkers didn’t know the details, but they felt the boss’s tension.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked, standing in his doorway.
He’d been talking to the AI, something about anticipated cost-benefits, and they continued the conversation while he waved her in. He managed not to look at her while doing so, but his voice took on a cooler note. When he’d finished he turned, shook his head in a gesture that suggested he lived in a universe that was out to get him, signaled for her to close the door, and without a word started the VR.
Kim sat down as an image of Ben Tripley took shape.
“This was received about an hour ago,” Matt said.
Tripley was seated on the edge of his desk. He looked unhappy. “Phil,” he said, apparently speaking to Philip Agostino, the director, “I asked you to request Dr. Brandywine to stop involving herself in my affairs. She has now caused a police interrogation, and has unfairly called the character of my father into question.” Over Tripley’s shoulder, Kim could see the forward section of the Valiant. “I have to inform you that I am reevaluating my support for the Institute, as your organization seems to have too much free time on its hands, and a propensity for chasing down discredited rumors. Be advised that if any damage comes to either my property or my reputation as a result of this incident, I will regrettably have no choice but to seek legal redress.”
It blinked off.
“Want to see it again?” Matt asked.
“Yes,” she said. “But kill the sound.”
He stared at her, taken off guard, waiting for her to cancel the request. When she didn’t he reran it. She went over to the desk where she could stop it at the point she wanted.
“The director has instructed me,” Matt said angrily, “to ask for your resignation.”
“Tripley’s a crank,” she said.
“He’s an important crank, Kim.”
She froze the image, Tripley leaning forward, mouth open, index finger jabbed in their general direction. “Matt,” she said, “look at this.” She tried to adjust the image so they’d get more of the Valiant, but it was already full frame.
“Yeah. Looks like a bookend. So what?”
“It’s a model starship.”
He shrugged. “And—?”
“Matt, I’m pretty sure the Hunter did have an encounter with a celestial.”
“Kim—”
“I can’t prove it, but I’d bet on it.” She pointed at the Valiant. “And this is what it looked like.”
“The model.”
“Yes. Look, I know it sounds goofy but I’m almost positive it’s so.”
“If it’s so, why is Tripley keeping it quiet?”
“I don’t think he knows anything about it. Not about the mission. Not about the model. I think his father had it made in one of the local tech shops immediately after he got back. After the explosion, Ben’s grandmother found it at the villa, thought it was only a toy and gave it to him.”
Matt looked as if his shoes were too tight. “What evidence do you have?”
She told him about the fraudulent log and showed him the pictures of Kane’s submerged wall. She said nothing about the vision in the passageway.
“How do you know the log is fraudulent?”
“We had it analyzed.”
“By whom?”
“By experts.”
“You don’t want to tell me.”
“Not really.”
He stopped to catch his breath. “Kim, I’m sorry. You’re a valuable member of the organization and I’d have preferred not to lose you, but you don’t really give me any choice. I want you to go back to your office and write out your resignation. Make it effective thirty days from now. That way I can give you a month’s pay. But don’t come back.” He stared at her across the top of his desk. “You know I’d change this if I could, but I warned you, damn it. I did warn you this was going to happen.”
He scowled and waved her out of the room. But when she started for the door he stopped her. “Kim,” he said, “if you need a reference, make sure it’s addressed to me personally and not to the organization.”
The words didn’t register. “Matt, this isn’t fair. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve violated no procedure—”
“You disobeyed a directive. I told you to stay away from this—” He stuttered a couple of times and waved one hand in a frustrated circle.
She glared at him. “Don’t you care what the truth is?”
“Okay, what is the truth? We’ve got one woman dead and one missing. If Kile Tripley did it, it doesn’t much matter because he’s also gone to a better world. So it’s not as if we’re looking for justice.
“You find a bookshelf model and a sketch on a wall and on the basis of that you think somebody met a celestial. If they did, why the goddamn hell didn’t they tell somebody? Anybody?”
“I don’t know, Matt. But if there’s nothing to the story, why’d they gundeck the logs?”
“I don’t know that they did.”
“You can check them if you want. When you do, and when you find out that what I’ve told you is true, I’d like very much to borrow the McCollum.”
His eyes widened. “You’re a remarkable woman, Kim, I’ll say that for you. But maybe you didn’t hear me earlier: You’re not working for us anymore.”
“How’d it go?” asked Solly.
“They fired me.” She had a blowup of Tripley’s Valiant taped to her wall.
“Goddammit, Kim, I told you that would happen.”
She was trembling, with anger, frustration, with a sense of the sheer injustice of it all.
“Maybe it’ll blow over,” he said. “Just sit tight for a bit. Give them a chance to calm down until they discover they need you.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
They embraced and neither spoke. “Look,” he said at last, “I have some friends at Albestaadt.” Albestaadt was a major research facility on Pacifica. “I can’t promise anything, but I could put in a word. I think there’d be a decent chance. And you could go back to being a researcher.”
“Thanks, Solly. Maybe later. I’ve got a point to make first.”
“You’re going to continue to push this thing?”
“Might as well. I’ve nothing to lose now.”
“You could get sued. Anyhow, what more can you do? Where can you go from here?”
“I’m going to prove the encounter happened.”
“How will you do that?”
“The Hunter’s radio, Solly. It was omnidirectional, remember? With a booster.”
She saw his features brighten. “You really think it would work?”
“Why not? All we need is the right equipment.”
Solly’s eyes met hers. “You’ll need a starship. I don’t guess Matt agreed to let you have
the Mac?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“So—How do you plan to manage it?”
“I was thinking about stealing it.”
“Kim—”
“I mean it, Solly. I’ll do what I have to.”
“I believe you would.”
“Solly, I can’t just walk away from this. If we’re right, it’ll be the prime scientific discovery of all time. We’ll be famous, immortal, whatever you like.”
“Rich?” said Solly.
“I’d guess rich beyond imagination.”
“Yeah. Well, rich is good. But the risk is a little high. You’re going to have to count me out, Kim. I’m sorry, but I draw the line at grand theft. Which is what this would be.” His features were flushed, his lips pressed tight together, his eyes hard. “I’m sorry. But this is way out of line.”
Yeah. How could she have expected anything else? “I understand, Solly.”
“How about chartering a ship? Better yet, rent one. I’ll pilot.”
She’d considered it. But she needed the specialized communication equipment of the Institute vessels.
“I’ll help you pay for it,” he said.
“Won’t work. We need FAULS.” That was the Flexible Array, Unified Long-range Sensing System. If somebody did a radio broadcast a hundred light-years out, FAULS would pick it up.
“Kim,” he said. “Let it go.”
Hyperyacht, Inc., had an assortment of interstellars ranging from sleek executive models to economy-class buses. But the cheapest were not licensed for voyages outside the Nine World bubble, and the better ones were impossibly expensive. Worse, even if she could somehow meet the cost and persuade the Institute to let her have the communication gear, it couldn’t be installed.
She put it aside and went home to stare at the ocean.
And to send out résumés. They went to a dozen research institutions around the globe, but she had little hope any would respond favorably. There wasn’t much to put in the Current Projects and Recent Accomplishments blocks.
I am on the verge of making contact with an intelligent species.
Sure I am.
She could have undoubtedly gotten a job somewhere as a fund-raiser, but she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life pleading for money. Might as well simply retire to a leisurely existence like the majority of the population. Accept her monthly government allotment and sit on the porch.
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