Enigma (21 page)

“Oh, my, you have missed a lot. Here we are. Marks, Diana Elizabeth, chemical technologist. Shipped to Cygnus in
Descartes
as part of the pioneer team, as you said. Productivity award in ’19—not much else. Had a daughter in ’14, name of Andrea—make that Andra. Mother and daughter both shipped out back to Earth in ’21 aboard the packet
Audubon
.”

The alcohol coursing through Thackery’s body diminished the impact of that news, but it could not fully abate it. Leaning heavily on the counter, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his folded hands. “Is there anything in there about the father of the girl?”

“She gave it as an M. Thackery, no further information. Apparently Vital Statistics wasn’t able to confirm that, because it’s listed as anecdotal rather than genetic.” The aide’s eyes suddenly widened. “M. Thackery—is that you? Was that your child?”

Thackery did not answer. He was already tottering toward the door with all the speed his rubbery legs could muster, his stomach churning threateningly. He made it to the corridor before the cramps won and dropped him to his knees in a puddle of second-hand wine and tears.

“I did it, too,” he sobbed, his pain making him oblivious to the stares of the library aide and the pedestrians in the corridor. “Freezin’ Christ, just like my father. I did it, too.”

It was a chastened and subdued Thackery that was released from the A-Cyg detox center at eleven the next morning. He went directly home, curled up on the bed fully dressed, and took a three-hour nap. When he arose from it, the lingering effects of both the alcohol and the concoctions the center had used to banish it were finally gone. The memory of what had triggered his display, unfortunately, had not.

Declaring war on self-destructive thinking, Thackery turned to the entertainment channels, switched off his mind, and filled his eyes and ears with, in succession, a flatscreen historical, “Gone With The Wind,” a concert by a long-dead folksinger, and a nude trio grappling on a grassy hillside, all watched with equal detachment. The sex show had just ended, with everyone except Thackery satisfied, when the door page sounded.

It was Dunn, smiling familiarly and dressed casually in a V-neck shirt and softskin slacks. “Heard you had a bit too much excitement last night,” he said, stepping past Thackery into the apartment. “I thought I’d see how you’re doing.”

“I’m just waiting for the word.”

“What word is that?”

“My discharge from Contact.”

Dunn settled on the edge of the bed. “Why are you expecting that?”

“I earned it with my performance at Gnivi, don’t you think? Hell, you were on the inquiry board.”

To Thackery’s consternation, Dunn laughed. “Don’t you understand? Neale can’t discipline you without bringing her own actions into question. It’s Mark who’ll take the blame.”

“Mark—”

“He’s the one she wants. You just made it easier for her. So perk up. When
Descartes
goes back out, I promise you you’ll be on her.”

“I don’t want to be. If they don’t release me, I’ll resign.”

“If you feel that way, why haven’t you resigned already? Wait—you’d have to forfeit the compound interest on your salary, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t care about that.”

“No. Then what is it?”

Thackery sighed weightily. “I just want to face up to it.”

“Resigning before they had a chance to can you would offend your sense of honor.”

“I guess that’s what I mean.”

“You want to stand up straight when they shoot you. Won’t even ask for a blindfold.”

“What—”

“Be honest with yourself, that’s what it amounts to. You feel responsible for the people we lost. You made that clear enough at the inquiry. Do you think if they run you out for it you’ll feel any better about it?”

“That’s not what I want.”

“Sure it is. And it won’t come that way.”

“Don’t you understand?” Thackery shouted. “I’m responsible! I screwed up. They didn’t do anything to deserve what happened to them! They died, and I didn’t. I’m sure as hell not going to let someone else take the blame.”

“It’s out of your hands,” Dunn said. “Don’t you understand? Neale knew what you’d say. She set it up so Mark’d look bad—and he did. That wasn’t an inquiry. It was a hanging. Mark’s gone, or as good as.”

“That’s not right.”

“But you’ll learn to live with it, and the guilt. Merritt, try to think straight for once. Farther out in this octant are the Veil Nebula, the Cygnus Star Cloud, the Great Rift—we’ve barely begun. How could you want to be anywhere else?”

Thackery shook his head grimly. “I’ll wait until that next packet is ready to leave for Earth. If they haven’t removed me by then, I’ll do it myself.”

Thackery vegetated five days away before he had another visitor. This time it was Guerrieri.

“Hear you’re talking about leaving us.”

“It’s not just talk.”

“Heard that, too. What’s going on?”

“There’s nothing complicated about it. I’ve got no reason to stay in, not one. But now I’ve got a reason to leave.”

“Which is?” Thackery hesitated, then told him about Diana. “You’re not the only one,” Guerrieri said with a wry smile.

“Rogen left one—he’s been having lunch with his granddaughter. So did a couple of the awks. Even Mike, which is kind of nice.” He flashed his eyebrows. “Guess I was shooting blanks.”

“Diana took her back to Earth.”

“And that’s your reason for going?”

Thackery nodded.

“Better think that through. Unless one or the both of them kept moving, all you’re going to find is a grave.”

“I still have to see.”

“They can talk to Unity now.”

“I already tried.”

“And?”

Thackery sighed. “Unity says that Diana was released from the Service in ’50. And her Earth records since are protected by the Right to Privacy provision of the Articles. They have nothing about her—our—daughter at all.”

Guerrieri frowned, then lifted his shoulders in a little shrug. “Guess you have to make up your own mind. What do you think about this Kleine transmitter business? You realize, if we’d had one we’d wouldn’t of had to come back. Have you been down to the yard? They’ve got the ship all torn up amidships.”

“It’s crazy.”

“It works.”

“It’s still crazy,” Thackery said emphatically. “Do you realize that the two inventions on which this whole business rests are a complete mystery to everybody?”

“Not to
everybody
”

“Everybody. Did you ever study drive theory? What makes an AVLO ship go? The drive doesn’t provide the energy needed to create the gravity hole—it taps it. How? From where?”

“The multiplier effect—”

“Is an invention of the physicists to preserve conservation of mass-energy. It’s a fancy fridge-factor.”

“Come on, you’re no drive tech.”

“McShane was. He told me that no one really knew where the ship was when it crazed—that it couldn’t be in normal space, but that the drive couldn’t function in any of the postulated hyperspaces. And now we’ve got a com system that uses shortcuts nobody can find and follows rules nobody can figure out.” He shook his head in disgust. “This is just insane, the whole thing.”

“The engineers are just a few steps ahead of the theoreticians, that’s all.”

“No, it’s crazy, all of it.”

Guerrieri said nothing for a time, then a sympathetic cast came into his eyes. “What’s up with you, Thack? Are you all right?”

A bitter laugh answered him. “All right? My whole life is screwed up and I don’t even know why. I can’t even figure out how I got here. I mean, I can remember the events, but it doesn’t feel like I was in control.” He tried a smile, but it was unconvincing. “I just can’t do this anymore. Do you under stand?”

“I think so,” Guerrieri said, edging toward the door. “Look, I’m expected—”

Thackery waved a hand in the air. “It’s all right.”

“I’ll stop by and see you again. Or you could come out and see us.”

“Bring a bottle. I’ll be better company.”

But Guerrieri did not return, and Thackery languished, counting down the days until the arrival of the packet
Raphael
and waiting for the word that seemed would never come. But one morning, with the countdown at seventeen, the page light on his apartment’s netlink lit up at last. The conversation was brief, but it was enough:

“Merritt Thackery?”

“Here.”

“Report to Carl Heiser in the Flight Office at 10 A.M.”

Lifted out of his gloom, Thackery bounced around the apartment expending his restless energy in cleaning and straightening. An hour before his appointment, he showered away three days’ worth of olfaction and shaved off a six-day growth of beard. Dressing in a clean allover—available thanks to a laundry services fee ratter than his own foresight—he looked deep into the black ellipse for a long moment, then pinned it above his left breastpocket for the last time.

Leaving the apartment earlier than he needed to, Thackery found himself waiting outside Heiser’s office with Fowler, one of the awks from
Descartes
. Then when the office door opened, it was Jessica Baldwin who emerged. Heiser
appeared
behind her only long enough to call “Fowler,” then disappeared inside again.

“Thackery,” she said, with what seemed to be a genuine smile. “I’m glad to see you here.”

“Hello, Jessie.”

“Look, all of the techs are getting together at Tom’s apartment on Simonton Place to talk this over. Why don’t you come on up when Heiser’s done with you?”

The invitation puzzled Thackery, so the head bob that acknowledged it was reflexive and perfunctory.

“All right, then,” she said brightly. T i l see you later.”

Fowler was inside some ten minutes, and then it was Thackery’s turn.

“You mind if I take a moment to get myself some coffee?” Heiser asked as Thackery entered, waving him to a chair. “This has been a crazy morning—appointments since 7 A.M. and still half a dozen to go.”

“No—”

Heiser stirred something briskly into his cup and returned to his desk. “Well, Thackery, how are you feeling? Ready to go back to the wars?”

“Excuse me?”

He pushed a piece of fax across the desk toward Thackery:

Unified Space Service—Survey Branch
Flight Office
Cygnus Annex

“This is a promotion,” Thackery said, unbelieving.

“Of sorts.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t even know what a contact specialist is.”

“To be honest, we’re not quite sure either,” Heiser said, rocking back in his padded chair. “
Munin
won’t carry an ordinary crew—but that’s only right, since her mission’s not an ordinary one either.
Munin
is going to the colony Sennifi. If that name sounds unfamiliar to you, don’t worry. It was to everyone until a week before your arrival, and we’ve been very closed-mouthed about it from the beginning—for good reason. This is a follow-up mission. We’re sending you out to try to pick up the pieces of a botched contact.”

Heiser paused to sip at his coffee. “As far as your new assignment is concerned, my understanding is that you won’t be part of a contact team as you’ve come to understand the term, but will serve as an aide to Mission Commander Neale. Since she’s directly responsible for the negotiations, that should put you right in the middle of things.”

“Why was I picked?”

“On Commander Neale’s recommendation. You certainly would have been selected for the mission in any event—your language facility and your Gnivi experience put you well up on the list.”

This is Neale’s payoff to me
, Thackery realized suddenly.
Dunn was right. Oh, damn him, Dunn
way
right
. “What about Mark Sebright?” he demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“Is he on the crew manifest for
Munin?
”

“No—”

“Then that’s my answer, too. No,” Thackery said, coming to his feet. “I’m not available for this assignment. I’m resigning from the Service.”

“I had no notice—,” Heiser began.

“Here’s notice for you,” Thackery said, tearing the black ellipse from his allover and throwing it down on the desk. “I want out.”

“I don’t understand—”

“All you have to understand is the word ‘No’. I’m not going,” Thackery shouted, and stormed out of the office past the questioning eyes of Guerrieri and Taylor-White.

By the time Thackery reached his apartment, there was already a Priority message waiting on the netlink, insisting that he report to Neale immediately. Unable to purge it from the system or silence the ringer, he ignored it. Twenty minutes later, the door page began to sound. Thackery ignored it as well, until the combined and continuing demands exhausted his minimal patience.

“Go away!” he hissed, flinging the door open. “I’m done with you!”

But it was not Neale. The strong hand that caught the door before Thackery could slam it shut, the shoulder that pushed it open again, belonged to Sebright.

“My turn to butt in,” Sebright said, stepping forward without waiting for an answer.

“What are you here for?”

“You know.”

“To break the news that they’ve found some way to keep me from resigning.” Sebright shook his head. “No. They know they can’t make you stay.”

“Then they must have sent you to talk me into it.”

“No one sent me,” Sebright said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You insult me. Do you think I’d do anything for them now?” Thackery dropped his gaze to the floor, and his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’ve had that problem a lot lately.”