The captain matched velocity with the rock. Then he got up from the pilot’s seat.
“Mr. Brockmaier,”
he said,
“you have the conn.”
Brockmaier had the conn? He was a
lawyer
.
Alex grumbled something about what the hell was going on.
“He’s not really turning control over,” I said. “That would be crazy. The AI has it. Brockmaier knows it. Everybody knows it. It’s all part of the ride.”
Hugo produced an officer’s cap and, as he came forward, put it on at a jaunty angle. He lowered himself into the captain’s chair.
“Okay, April,”
he said.
“Ready to go.”
“At your command, Captain Brockmaier.”
Hugo couldn’t suppress a grin. That last line had a nice ring to it.
“Give ’em hell, honey,”
said Mira.
The passengers clapped. Hugo threw a glance at the captain. The implication was clear: Hugo could run this thing for real if it wouldn’t upset everybody.
The captain sat down beside Mira. I’d expected him to take the copilot’s seat, but he left Hugo on his own. It was more dramatic this way, and that was, after all, what the passengers had paid for.
Hugo studied the instruments as if he knew precisely what he was doing.
April enlarged the image of the asteroid on the main screen.
“Everybody lock in,”
she said.
“You, too, Skipper.”
A security lamp went green.
“Okay, April. Let’s do the rock. Stay at a range of five hundred meters, and match course and speed.”
“Complying, Captain.”
April’s voice was soft and calm. Everything was under control.
They closed on the asteroid. It grew in the wraparound, and grew some more, until it was directly in front of and slightly beneath the ship. Until they were close enough to make out every crevice and crater. Then, gradually, it slid beneath them, disappearing, though they could still see it on the navigation screen.
“Range five hundred,”
April said.
Hugo leaned right and studied the panel.
“Okay, April.”
He tugged at his beard.
“Take us down.”
“Beginning descent.”
“Navigation lights, April.”
They came on and bathed the battered, pockmarked surface.
Cracks and jagged ridges crisscrossed everywhere. As they descended, the horizon simultaneously widened and retreated.
“Angle on the target.”
They moved to starboard. And the comet appeared directly over the horizon. Dead ahead.
“Done, Captain.”
Target? Belatedly, I realized what they were going to do.
The comet was getting big and getting bigger. The system provided a crosshairs for Hugo. It didn’t do everything automatically. That would have taken the fun out of the operation. The challenge was to get the timing down, pick a point of collision, and put the asteroid on course.
“Target range?”
Hugo asked.
“Twenty-six thousand kilometers.”
“Louie’s approach velocity?”
“Forty-two thousand.”
“So when—?”
“Louie will impact, or cross the orbit, in thirty-seven minutes.”
They moved in still closer. Perspective shifted, and suddenly we were looking
down
at the surface.
“Do you know what they’re doing?” Alex asked.
“They’re going to use the antigravs to guide the asteroid. They’ve got juiced-up versions, level-four plates probably, on the prow. They don’t just negate the standard gee force, the way level-one units do. Level-four plates actually create a counterforce. A strong one. They push the ship away from the object. So, to move the object, the ship fires its engines and pushes. Theoretically, they should be able to control the flight of the asteroid. To a degree. They’re aiming at the comet.”
“But they can’t even
see
the comet now.”
“They don’t have to push the whole time, Alex. They’ll estimate what they need, give it a shove, then let go and check to see how they’re doing. Meantime, April knows where everything is, even if she can’t see it.”
“You ever hear about anything like this before? Banging asteroids around?”
“It’s a technique used in construction projects. I never heard of anybody doing it for entertainment.”
“Ready to lock on, Captain,”
said April.
Hugo nodded. Straightened his cap. He was seriously into it. “Do it.”
They got it on the first try. The comet dissolved. And all that remained was a long, sparkling tail.
FIFTEEN
Those flickering candles in the endless night . . .
—Elizabeth Stiles,
Singing in the Void
I don’t usually eat out unless I’m with somebody. My lunches at the country house routinely consist of raiding the refrigerator and munching down a sandwich while I keep working. All the mental-health editors insist that sort of behavior leads to problems, so I’ve promised myself to change. I rarely actually do it, though. But the day after we watched the Brockmaier flight, Alex was out of the building, and I deserved a treat.
There were several places nearby. I decided on Tardy’s, which has good food, decent prices, and soft music. It’s located on a two-by-four island in the Melony, just upstream from the falls.
I like Tardy’s. They’ve dispensed with the bots, everybody’s very friendly, and for reasons I’ve never understood, the place draws good-looking guys. But all the males appeared more or less worn-down or married that day. I ate quietly in one of their booths, looking out at the river, taking my time, not because it was a slow day but because I have a tendency when I eat alone to rush through the meal. So I proceeded deliberately, and even ordered a dessert, some cherry pie, half of which I left because the one problem with Tardy’s is that the portions are too large. When I was a kid, I had the screwball notion that restaurants knew what was best for you, and they gave you precisely what you needed. Finish your plate, love, my mom always used to say. Don’t waste food.
Anyhow, I finished, paid up, and started for the door. But I noticed a woman at one of the tables who jarred my memory. She was tall, thin, serious-looking, not the kind of person, probably, who’d break you up with a funny line. She was eating alone and never looked my way.
I was still thinking about her when I went out the door into the parking lot. Tardy’s had its own, but it was small, and you had to come early to get a space. They had a larger area, across the river, connected to the island by a long, covered viaduct. If you chose, or were forced, to use the viaduct, you could walk or ride on the glideway. I usually parked in the big lot because I enjoyed riding across the river, especially in the late autumn. It was beautiful at that time of year, filled with gulls and
galians
and all kinds of birds that hung around the restaurant, hoping for a handout. I just made myself comfortable on the glideway and watched the river go past.
The Melony narrowed at that point, so the current moved right along. About a kilometer downriver, it would squeeze into the Chambourg Canyon, accelerate to a roar, blast through a lot of very large rocks, and plunge twenty meters over the Chambourg Falls. The owners of Tardy’s had been trying for years to move the restaurant onto the rocks just above the falls, but fortunately the effort always caused such outrage that the politicians didn’t dare approve it.
I was halfway across when I realized where I’d seen the woman at the table before. She’d been on the train to Carnaiva. She was the one who’d gotten on at Cremation Station. The Mortician.
I looked back at Tardy’s. The place had a ramshackle, boathouse feel. Part of its charm. A bunch of gulls went squawking past. I thought about going back. But coincidences happen.
An hour after I’d returned to the office, Jacob informed me we had a call from Brian Lewis.
“He wants to talk to Alex.”
“I’ll take it,” I said.
I’d been trying to track down the whereabouts of the Steven Silver copy of the Confederate Constitution. At the time of the signing, 326 copies were made. One had eventually gotten into the hands of Silver, a world-famous collector. He’d died, and it had disappeared. The thing was worth a fortune. Alex had been tracking it for two years, but the trail had gone cold. So I needed a minute to concentrate on the figure materializing in the middle of my office. My first thought was that he wanted to take advantage of the cash offer we’d made for a chance to inspect the tablet. “Hello, Brian,” I said. “How are you doing?”
He did not look happy.
“I’ve been better, Chase. Is Alex there somewhere?”
I think I’ve mentioned that Brian was a big guy. When I’d seen him earlier, at the Conneltown field, and out over the ocean, he’d seemed hostile and annoyed. That was gone. He waited in front of me with his guard down. “I’m sorry, Brian, but he’s out with a client. Can I help you?”
“Could you contact him?”
He was dressed casually, and appeared to be in the front seat of a parked skimmer. The door was open, and his legs hung out over the edge of the vehicle. I had the distinct sense that he’d been about to go somewhere but had stopped on sudden impulse to make the call.
“I can’t, Brian. He shuts down when he’s out with somebody.”
He wiped his hand against his mouth. Chewed on his lip.
“Okay,”
he said. He was about to disconnect.
“Brian, what can we do for you?”
He hesitated. Then:
“Not a thing, Chase. Sorry to take your time.”
“Must be something,” I said.
“I need to talk to him.”
“About the tablet?”
He climbed down out of the skimmer. It was the Sentinel.
“I guess.”
“Brian, is it okay with you if I record this conversation? That way I can pass it on verbatim to Alex.”
“Sure. I don’t care. Record whatever you like.”
“Okay. We are now on record.”
“Fine.”
“Our offer still stands, Brian.”
“I don’t really want your money. That isn’t what this is about.”
“Okay.” Long pause, while we stared at each other. “What
is
it about?”
“Rachel.”
“I’m listening.”
“Look, let me tell you up front that I have no idea what’s going on here. Why she is the way she is. But she’s a good woman—”
“Okay.”
“Anyhow, I wanted you to know that you and Benedict have turned her into a nervous wreck. I’m scared something will happen.”
“Why is she nervous, Brian?”
“I just told you, I don’t know. I have no idea what any of this is about. What I
do
know is that she means a lot to me. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever known. And you two are ruining her. I don’t know what you’re after, and I don’t know what the problem is, but I wanted to ask you to stop. Please.”
“Brian, the tablet might be an artifact from an alien civilization.”
“I’m sure you know how crazy that sounds, Chase. Anyhow, I don’t really care. I just don’t. Nothing is worth what you’re putting her through.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure Alex isn’t happy about any of this either.”
“Yeah. That’s fine. You and he are sorry you’re turning her life upside down.”
“Have you asked her why she’s so upset?”
“Once.”
“What did she say?”
He closed the door.
“She just shakes her head. No. Won’t talk about it.
Can’t
talk about it.”
“Does Doug know what it’s about?”
“No.”
“Aren’t
you
curious, Brian?”
“Yeah, I’m curious. Of course I am. But she doesn’t want to tell me. That’s good enough.”
“Okay.”
“Look.”
He was having a problem with his voice. He started to say more, stopped, took a deep breath. Then:
“I wish I could buy you guys off.”
Another pause.
“I’m not in a position to do that. But I would consider it a personal favor if you and your boss would just back away. Please.”
“Okay.”
“Does that mean you will?”
I hadn’t been able to get Rachel out of my mind. She’d lied to us, and played mind games with us, and maybe had hired someone to get rid of us. Still, her plea that we leave her alone had contained a note of desperation. If that, too, had been an act, she should have been on the stage. I wanted to tell Bryan yes, that we’d back off. That it was over. But I couldn’t speak for Alex. “It means,” I said, “that I’ll show him the record and have him get in touch with you. He’ll be in later this afternoon.”