Authors: Allen Steele
The initial vibration subsided, the roar of main-engine ignition lapsing into a background rumble. Although there was sufficient gravity for the flight crew to stand up and move around, none left their seats. Emily hoped that the science team had obeyed Ted's instructions to remain on Deck C; they didn't need any visitors just then. Through the windows, they caught a brief, final glimpse of Earthâthree-quarters full, its daylight terminator somewhere above the Pacificâbefore lateral thrusters fired to correct their trajectory and put them on a correct heading for rendezvous with the starbridge. Then their world slowly swam away, to be replaced by the distant crescent of the Moon.
On the overhead screens, they could make out the starbridge, a tiny silver ring that grew in size with each passing minute. Until ESA began its construction two years earlierâalong with its prototype companion, KX-1, robotically built in orbit around Erisâthe hyperspace program had been one of the European Alliance's most closely guarded secrets. Although the Western Hemisphere Union loudly proclaimed that its development, along with that of a second-generation diametric drive, was the result of espionage, the EA dismissed this as propaganda, insisting that its scientists had come up with it on their own.
Yet perhaps there was some truth to the charge. Although the facts were still classified, Emily had heard the rumors: that a former United Republic of America physicist, one who'd been involved in the construction of the URSS
Alabama
and long since assumed to be dead, had been discovered in biostasis, reportedly in a former URA lunar research station that had been lost after the collapse of the Republic. No one knew who he was, but the story had it that he'd carried with him not only his own knowledge of hyperspace physics but also a disk containing his research notes for the development of wormhole travel, and that it was only lucky happenstance that caused him to be found by the Alliance instead of the Union.
Well, that was only hearsay. Reality was something else entirely. Emily let out her breath, loosened her seat harness, and stretched herself. She caught Ted's eye, gave him a nervous smile. He responded with a sly wink. They were on their way.
At constant thrust, it took
Galileo
less than six hours to reach the Lagrange point where the starbridge was suspended between the gravitational pulls of Earth and the Moon. What had once been a tiny ring had expanded to a torus, forty meters in diameter, its blue and green navigational lights flashing along its outer surface. One hundred kilometers away, a small cylindrical station was positioned in close orbit, the gatehouse that controlled access to the starbridge.
“Gatehouse confirms final approach, Captain.” Arkady looked up from his console. “All vectors nominal, and starbridge powering up for hyperspace insertion.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rusic. Give them our regards.” Lawrence paused, then added: “Status of KX-1?”
“All systems clear, sir.” Arkady's tone was matter-of-fact, as if he'd never thought his commanding officer would ever ask. “Status nominal.”
Emily glanced at Ted, saw him briefly raise an eyebrow. Nice of the captain to double-check. Unless the twin starbridges were properly synchronized, the wormhole wouldn't be formed and
Galileo
would vanish into a singularity. In which case, their last thoughts, just before their bodies were crushed into streams of subatomic particles, would be the confirmation of their suspicions that their captain was an idiot.
“Thank you.” Lawrence looked up at the mission chronometer, then cinched his seat harness a little tighter. “T-minus seventy-two seconds. Mr. Cohen, status of main engine?”
“MECO in eleven seconds.” Almost as soon as Martin spoke, an alarm went off, signaling main-engine cutoff. Emily had just enough time to tighten her harness before the engine ceased its rumble and microgravity returned. Cohen silenced the alarm. “MECO complete, sir. Main engine in standby mode.”
“Thank you.” Lawrence took hold of his armrests. “All stations, report in.”
Once again, just as they'd done a few hours earlier, the flight crew reported affirmative. It was almost an unnecessary procedure;
Galileo
was now fully under control of its AI, which would presumably alert them to any system malfunctions. Yet Emily was glad for the distraction; it helped take her mind off the fact that the ship was entering the wormhole's event horizon.
Relax
, she told herself.
The probes have done this before. The first two failed, but the next five came back. Everything's going to be fine.
From behind her, though, she could hear Nick muttering the Lord's Prayer; Ted shot a look at him, and the doctor lowered his voice to a whisper.
As the starbridge filled the screens, Simone's voice became a nervous cadence. “T-minus tenâ¦T-minus eightâ¦T-minus fiveâ¦four⦔
“Everyone, hang on!” Ted yelled. “Shut your eyes!”
“Threeâ¦twoâ¦one⦔
Through the windows, a white-hot flash. Emily squeezed her eyes shut, but not before her retinas were dazzled by its negative afterimage. She gasped as she felt herself slammed against her seat. From somewhere behind her, hull plates creaked in protest.
A sensation of falling into a bottomless pitâ¦
JUNE 2, 2288âEASS
GALILEO
W
hatever Ramirez expected the ship's library to be like, that wasn't what he found when he got there.
He stood in the doorway, staring at a drawing room that wouldn't have been out of place within a Victorian manor of the nineteenth century. Brass-caged bookshelves containing dozens of leather-bound volumes lined mahogany-paneled walls, their moldings carved to resemble oak leaves and acorn clusters. A vaulted ceiling rose above him, its bowstring beams forming a star pattern from which a crystal chandelier was suspended. The floor was covered with a thick Persian carpet woven with a rose motif; the furniture consisted of brown-leather armchairs and love seats upholstered with soft purple velvet, separated by round study tables draped with braided silk cloths. A gilded pendulum clock, ticking ever so quietly, stood near a marble fireplace in which a couple of logs slowly burned. An oil portrait of a woman, buxom and yet demure, hung within a gilded frame above the mantel, upon which rested a pewter miniature of the
Galileo
.
This can't be real
, Ramirez thought.
It must be a hologram.
Yet when he stepped closer to one of the walls and touched it, his fingertips felt only polished wood, right down to the subtle imperfections in the grain. The carpet was soft beneath the soles of his shoes; exploring it with his left toe, he noted that the fibers moved as he prodded them. The fire burning within the hearth, of course, wasn't really there, yet it was only after he stared at it for a while that he noticed a slight, nonrandom repetition of the flames and the smoke. That part was an illusion, at least, but the restâ¦
“Spared no expense, did they?” Sir Peter asked. “Personally, I think they should have included a billiards table, but I suppose you can't have everything.”
It took a moment for Ramirez to locate Cole. He was seated in an armchair within a cozy little alcove near the fireplace, a book in his lap and his feet crossed together on an ottoman. The country squire at home and hearth; all he needed to make the scene complete was a pipe, a glass of brandy, and a terrier curled up by his side.
“Perhaps, but they might have also⦔ Ramirez stopped as he caught sight of the casement window behind Cole. Through thick mullioned panes, he saw what looked like a small English town, the gothic spire of an old church rising among the rooftops, the afternoon sun casting shadows upon the distant hills. A pigeon alighted upon the windowsill; it nervously glanced through the window, cocked its head, then fluttered away.
“Arundel, England. In case you're wondering.” Sir Peter followed Ramirez's gaze through the window. “The view from the library of Arundel Castle, although the actual room is considerably larger. Of course, if you'd like to be reminded where you really are⦔
Turning away from Ramirez, he leaned over to push a button on a small panel half-hidden beneath the window. The town vanished, suddenly replaced by the endless night of space, with Eris floating in the distance. The bottom quarter of the view was eclipsed by a long, outward-curving structure; the torus of
Galileo
's diametric drive, deployed from its housing a few hours earlier and rapidly gaining size as millions of micro-assemblers worked tirelessly to erect it into its doughnut-shaped cruise configuration.
“I like the other view a bit more, don't you?” Sir Peter touched the panel again. Deep space disappeared, and Arundel returned. The pigeon came back; again it peeped through the window, nodded in satisfaction, and flew away. Illusion destroyed.
“Nice trick.” Ramirez nodded toward the book in Cole's lap. “Anything good?”
“This?” Cole lifted the volume. “Shakespeare.
The Tempest
. Seemed appropriate. But it can be anything you'd like.” He offered the book to Ramirez. “Here. See for yourselfâ¦just ask. Operates by voice command, of course.”
“Of course.” Ramirez took the book from him, opened it to a random page. Sure enough, he found it to be a folio of Shakespeare's plays. He closed the cover, thought for a moment. “Alexandre Dumas,
The Count of Monte Cristo
,” he said, then opened it to the first page:
On February 24, 1815, the watchtower at Marseilles signaled the arrival of the three-master
Pharon,
coming from Smyrna, Trieste, and Naplesâ¦
“They're all like that.” Cole pointed to the shelves surrounding them. “Remote links to the library subsystem. Open any volume at random, you'll find only this.” Taking the book back from Ramirez, he closed the cover and said, “Neutral.” He opened it again. Blank pages. “But request something in particular, such asâ¦oh, say, H. G. Wells,
The War of the Worlds
.” He drummed his fingertips upon the cover, as if performing a magic trick, then opened the book once more. “See?”
“Impressive.” Ramirez didn't bother to look. “But I prefer Dumas.”
“Hmmâ¦I suppose you would.” Looking down at the book, Cole began to read aloud. “âNo one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man'sâ¦'”
“Thank you, but I've never much enjoyed fantasy.”
“Oh?” Cole seemed mildly disappointed. “And I'd have sworn that would be one of your favorites. Perhaps something that you'd read as a boy, thereby inspiring you to search for Martians.”
“No. Only a belief that the galaxy is too vast for only one intelligent race.” Taking a seat across from Sir Peter, he reached over to touch the panel beneath the window. The quaint English town vanished again, and once more they looked out at the stars. “Reality is much more interesting.”
“Yes, wellâ¦that's why I requested this meeting. Thought we'd have a chat about that very thing.” Cole closed the book and put it aside, then settled back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. “What do you think Spindrift is?”
“I told you what I thought at Wilton Park. You sat next to me, remember?”
“Yes, yes, of course, but⦔ A cunning smile. “What do you
really
think it is? Or don't you have any theories?”
“Oh, I have dozens of theories.” Ramirez toyed with a braided tassel at the end of the armrest's embroidered coverlet. “But until we have more evidence, they're nothing more than idle conjecture.” He paused. “Nothing I'd deem worth the attention of the Astronomer Royal.”
Sir Peter said nothing for a moment. Instead, he regarded Ramirez with languid eyes, like a tenured professor sizing up a promising yet insolent student. “You still resent me,” he said at last. “After all these years, still you're jealous.”
“Noâ¦and no.” Ramirez stared back at him. “Whatever was once between us is long in the past. Prison tends to help put things like that in their proper perspective. As for jealousy⦔ He shrugged. “So far as I'm concerned, you got what you deserved.”
Cole's eyelids fluttered, and Ramirez suppressed a grin. Some things, at least, never changed: Peter had always done that when he was irritated but trying not to show it. “I don't know whether I should feel complimented or insulted.”
“You tell me.” Ramirez crossed his legs. “Why did you volunteer for this expedition? Your chair at Cambridge getting a little too soft for you? Or did you think there might be a book out of this?”
The smile disappeared. Cole sat up a little straighter, laying his hands upon the armrests. “I took a leave of absence because my government requested me to do so,” he said evenly, “and I'll thank you not to speculate otherwise.” Realizing that his temper threatened to get the better of him, he forced himself to relax. “Look, I didn't mean to get off on the wrong track here⦔
“Naturally. Just banter among old friends, that's all.”
“Quite.” A tentative nod. “What I'm trying to get at, really, isâ¦if this is an alien artifact of some sort, do you think it could be hostile?”
Ramirez looked at him sharply. Something in Cole's face told him that this was the true focus of this conversation. Sir Peter was worried but trying not to show it. “Anything's possible,” he said tentatively, “although I couldn't say for sure either way. Why do you ask?”
Again, Cole didn't say anything for a moment. Instead, he leaned forward, cupping his hands between his knees. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “I had a conversation with Captain Lawrence yesterday, and he expressed certainâ¦reservations, shall we say?â¦about the potential for a dangerous encounter.”
“Did he now? I'm surprised he has that much imagination.”
Cole raised an eyebrow. “I take it that your opinion of the captain is less than favorable.”
“My opinion is that he's a fine example of how far wealth and power can take you even when you're a moron.” Cole's brow furrowed; he started to say something, but Ramirez didn't let him interrupt. “I stand by what I said before, but I'll also add that I think the possibility of meeting up with hostile aliens is rather remote.”
“Why not?”
“The correct question is âwhy?'” He nodded toward the book. “That's why stories like that have never appealed to me. It assumes that aliens would think as we doâ¦that they'd be just as bloodthirsty as humanity.”
“You have a low opinion of your own kind.” Cole peered at him. “Perhaps that's why you ended up in Dolland, hmm?”
Ramirez felt his face grow warm. He let his gaze shift toward the window. “Think what you will,” he said quietly, contemplating the stars. “I just prefer to believe that, somewhere in the galaxy, there must be a race better than our own.” He glanced back at Cole. “You can tell the captain that, if you think it'll calm his nerves.”
“If he asks again, I shall.” Cole shook his head. “But your philosophy isn't the issue. What I'm trying to ask you isâ¦if they're indeed hostile, then how do we know?”
Ramirez searched Cole's face, looking for signs of subterfuge. It was an honest question, to be sure, perhaps even an obvious oneâ¦and yet, he couldn't help but feel that Sir Peter was holding something back from him. Something that worried the Astronomer Royal so much that he'd taken a colleague whom he disliked as much as Ramirez into his confidence. Perhaps he had his own doubts about Lawrence's competence.
“I couldn't say,” he said warily. “I suppose we'll just have to cross that bridge when we get there.”
“Hmm⦔ Cole slowly nodded. “I expect you're right. We'll probably just have to play this by ear, no matter what happens.” Then he inched a little closer, lowering his voice even more. “However, when the time comes,” he said softly, “I'd like for you to be with me in the command center, as close at hand as possible. So that I can consult with you as quickly as possible.”
“Not in the OC?” The other half of Deck A, adjacent to the command center, served as the ship's observation center. That was where the science team would monitor
Galileo
's encounter with Spindrift.
“No. I'd like to have you on the bridge as much as possible. Until we're sure there's nothing to worry about, at least.” Cole hesitated. “The captain needs to be reassured that he doesn't have to takeâ¦well, certain emergency measuresâ¦if there's no reason for him to do so. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
Like hell!
“Excellent.” Sir Peter patted his knee. “Thanks, Jared. Glad you decided to come around. Always knew you'd be an asset to this mission.”
“Thank you, Peter. Appreciate your confidence⦔
“And you'll say nothing of this to anyone, will you?” Again, Cole's eyelids fluttered. “I can trust you to keep your mouth shut? To keep this strictly between you and me?”
“Of course.” And that, too, was a lie.
Â
Ramirez located Collins on Deck C just as she was about to enter the access shaft. She looked around when he called her name, and waited as he jogged the toward her. “Lieutenant Collinsâ¦just the person I want to see,” he said, coming to a breathless halt. “May I have a few minutes of your time?”
“I'm rather busy.” For some reason, she wore a fleece-lined jacket over her jumpsuit; various tools and instruments swung from a utility belt. “Can this wait till later?”
“It's rather important, actually.” He glanced back and forth to see if anyone else was in the corridor. A door shut somewhere around the bend; he heard footsteps, going the other way. “If we could speak in private,” he added, softening his voice, “I think it would be for the best.”
Collins was visibly reluctant. That didn't surprise him; he'd become used to the suspicion in her eyes. Ever since he'd joined the expedition, no one aboard
Galileo
had been willing to trust himâ¦save perhaps Cole, and clearly he had his own agenda. Yet among the members of the flight crew, Collins was the only person willing to talk to him. She might only be the shuttle pilot, but she had Harker's ear, and Harker was not only second-in-command, but obviously no friend of the captain. If he could persuade her to listenâ¦