Firebird (30 page)

“No need, Mr. Calvekio. Ms. Kolpath has always been quite discreet.” Alex has commented that he likes to have me present when he senses someone is going to try to put pressure on him. He thinks they tend to turn things down a notch.

“Very good.” Calvekio used a tone that suggested it was anything but. He sat down. “Mr. Benedict—may I call you Alex?”

“Of course.”

“Alex.” Calvekio was suddenly talking to an old buddy from high-school days. Somebody he knew he could trust. “You were at the meeting of the Chris Robin Society recently.”

“Last month, yes.”

“Some of our employees are members of the same group. We've known for a long time that Robin was interested in the sightings.” He crossed one leg over the other. “It's a pity he died early. Or whatever it was.”

“Yes, it is.”

“The reality, though, is that he was chasing a false premise.”

“And what is that?”

“Well, he seems to have thought there was something defective in the interstellar-drive units. That, if he could uncover it, it would become possible to stop these accidents from happening. But he couldn't find anything. That's because there
is
no defect.”

I got them some coffee. “Mr. Calvekio,” said Alex, “why are you coming to us with this?”

“Because you're about to blame this problem on the drive. May I point out that this is the same technology that was used by the Dellacondans during the Mute War? The same technology you uncovered yourself?”

“I'm aware of that.”

“If there's a problem with the technology, I'm sure you realize
you
would share the blame.”

Alex frowned. “I don't think we're looking for anyone to blame, Mr. Calvekio. And anyhow, what you heard is not true.”

“And what is that?”

“That I think the drive units are responsible. That's foolishness. I'd be interested in knowing where you heard it.”

“From half a dozen different sources.”

“It doesn't seem to have taken long to get around. But you're getting an incorrect version.”

“So that's
not
the conclusion you've reached?”

“No. We're interested in the disappearances, but we have no idea why they've been happening.”

“I'm glad to hear it.”

Alex shut down the display screen. “Mr. Calvekio, I take it you're certain that the drive units aren't involved.”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“If I may ask, how can you be so sure?”

“Alex, we've had our own people working on this problem for years. Just to be safe. Some of the top physicists and engineers available. There is nothing wrong with the drive. Moreover, ships have been vanishing ever since the Great Migration. With all kinds of drive units.

“The Mutes have lost ships, too. With a drive that is absolutely nothing like ours. They just don't put these events together into a mysterious pattern the way we do. They recognize the reality. Sometimes an engine fails. Sometimes a passenger runs amok. Sometimes the mass detector malfunctions. Over thousands of years, bad things will happen. A pilot will have a heart attack at the same time that the AI goes off-line.

“But look, we lose maybe one ship every thirty or forty years. It's not an unreasonable price to pay.”

“As long as you and I aren't paying it.”

“Alex, there's a risk factor anytime you travel. A skimmer might malfunction and crash. That happened last week out on the peninsula. I could have been hit by a falling branch on the way to your front door. It's rare, but it happens. It always
will.”

“That makes it acceptable.”

“Yes, it does. Because we've no choice in the matter. It's a risk we have to assume. The only alternative is to stay home.” His mournful expression reflected the kind of dismal world we lived in. “We've done everything we possibly can to correct the problem. We're still doing research. Trying to figure it out. We take every precaution.” He took a long, deep breath. “In the meantime, let me remind you that if you travel with us every day, your chances of being injured are less than your being hit by a meteor while sitting on your front porch.”

Alex laughed. “I don't think I understand the purpose of your visit, Mr. Calvekio. If you're already doing everything humanly possible—”

“Riko, please. Alex, people accept the idea that accidents can happen. That they
do
happen. One of our transports sideswiped a freighter at Point Edward two years ago. Six passengers were injured. One seriously. Seven years ago this month, a freighter was destroyed by a solar flare.”

“The
Europa,”
I said.

“Correct. Three people died. The star had been declared safe. We knew there were some problems with it, but the astrophysicists told us,
assured
us, 'Don't worry about it. It'll be fine. Good for another million years.' My boss has that line framed and hanging on his wall.
Good for another million years.
What we're looking at here is the limits of science. People accept the fact that there's a slight risk to interstellar travel.
Very
slight; nevertheless, it's there. We can live with that.”

“So again,” said Alex, “I'd like to know why you've come to us?”

“Because there's a spookiness factor involved.”

“Explain.”

Calvekio rubbed his forehead. He was a man on a mission. “Alex, how sure are you about your conclusion?”

“Which conclusion is that?”

“That these are in fact lost ships? I mean, you're basing everything on the claim that Robin found his evidence on Villanueva. But the record shows that he and Winter didn't even
go
to Villanueva. They went to Indikar. That's where Winter died.”

“That's the claim,” Alex said. “It appears that they may have lied.”

“Why?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I haven't really looked at the motivation.”

“Maybe you should.” He finally got around to trying the coffee. He looked up, commented that it was good, and continued: “People can deal with the possibility that something bad might happen. That an engine might explode, or that their ship might collide with a space station. That's extremely rare, of course. But it
has
happened. Okay. People can live with that.

“What they can't live with is the notion that they might get sucked into some weird dimension, and that their ship would show up from time to time—if that's really what's going on—that the ship would keep coming back like a ghost. Okay? When you talk about stuff like that, the odds don't matter. Nobody cares that maybe it only happens once every thirty or forty years. Any chance is too much. You hear what I'm saying?”

“You'd prefer we don't push the issue.”

“That's right. You can't do any good, and you might do a lot of harm. We just don't need that kind of talk.” He cleared his throat, looking for a fresh start. “It would be different if there were anything to it. But there isn't. And I'm sure you can see that.”

Alex smiled politely. “Actually, I'm not sure I can.”

“Let it go, Alex. You've got a solid reputation. But if you keep on the way you're going with this, you're going to pay a price.”

Alex's tone hardened. “Is that a threat?”

“No. By no means. It's just reality. Although we'd have no choice but to defend ourselves as best we can.”

“And if we backed off, what would we get out of it?”

“You'd keep your reputation intact.”

“That's it?”

“All right. Look, you're concerned about Villanueva. We have some political influence. We might be able tc help you there.”

“Let me think about it,” Alex said. “I'll get back to you.”

“You aren't really going to make a deal with them, are you, Alex? For one thing—”

“You wouldn't trust them.”

“That's right.”

He smiled. “I agree. So don't worry about it. I just wanted to see him go home.”

“Alex—?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you think Robin lied about where they'd been? About going to Indikar?”

“I've been reading about the family. It's impossible to be sure, but I think I can guess.”

“And that is—?”

“Let's try to pin it down. Jacob, see if you can get Billy Winter for us.”

A few minutes later, Billy blinked on, smiling, glad to see us again. He was seated at a table with a large jigsaw puzzle spread in front of him.
“I was going to call you,”
he said.
“I've been reading about you. I was wondering whether you'd learned any more about what happened to my father? “

“Billy, we're pretty sure he died on Villanueva.”

“That can't be right. What the hell would he have been doing there?”

“You really have no idea?”

“None. Are you saying that they never went to Indikar at all? Or—”

“We think Indikar was made up. From the beginning.”

His eyes seemed to focus on something far away.
“It's possible,”
he said.
“My mother didn't like the idea of his going to Indikar. She would never have allowed him to go to Villanueva—”

The puzzle was a forest scene. A large downed tree lay in the foreground, forming a bridge across a stream. No sky was visible anywhere. Just water and vegetation. Billy stared at it, tried a piece, shrugged.
“My God.”

“Your mother didn't like the idea of his traveling off-world at all, did she?”

“No,”
he said.
“She didn't even like Skydeck.”

“Why not?”

“She just thought it was too dangerous.”
He looked away from us.
“I remember one time there was somebody coming in to the university, and some of the staff were going up to be there when she arrived. Dad wanted to go, too, but my mom wouldn't hear of it. She was half out of her mind about his going to Indikar, and there was a big fight the night before he left. It's the only time I can remember that there was anything like that in the house. But he insisted he had to go. And he left, and we never saw him again.”

“Thanks, Billy.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“We told you we'd let you know if we ever found out what that mission was about.”

“Yes. So why did they do it?”

“We don't have all the details yet. But you'd be proud of your dad.”

“Why's that?”

“He and Robin were trying to get more information on ships that get lost. Like the
Capella.
That's what he risked his life for.”

“Can you explain that?”

“We don't have all the details yet, Billy. But that's why they were there. On Villanueva.”

I came to work a couple of mornings later and saw Alex outside on the deck, leaning against one of the support posts. “We might as well bring her back,” he said. “This thing's not going to happen.”

“Belle?”

“Yes. If we were going to find the
Firebird,
we'd have seen it early.”

“Okay,” I said. “I'll take care of it.”

I told her to come home. A few hours later she replied:
0744. We're giving up?

That was the entire message. I replied: “Yes. Come home.”

0752. I'm sorry to hear it. Are you sure?

“I'd think that sitting out there is pretty boring.”

0801. It beats just sitting.

“Belle, just come home. Okay?”

0811. I would really like to have found it.

“Tell Charlie we said hello.”

0820. Maybe it fell into a black hole.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Mathematics is the only valid portrait of reality. Everything else is delusional.

—Grumman Nesbitt, graduation address at MIT, 2214
C.E.

Maybe it fell into a black hole.

“The problem,” I said, “is that there's just too much space to cover. Too much guesswork involved.”

Alex was ready to throw up his hands. “Maybe she was right about the black hole.”

“Anything's possible, boss.”

“I'm serious.”

“I, um, don't think I understand.”

“I'm going to wander down to Survey this afternoon. You want to come along?”

“No, thank you. If you don't mind, Alex, I've had enough astrophysics for a while.”

He hadn't gotten back when I closed the office and headed home. I needed a break, though, so I went partying that night. When I got back, there was a message from Alex.
“Got news. Call me.”

It was well into the morning, so I wasn't going to bother him. But it took me a while to get to sleep. The result was that I showed up at the country house next day bleary-eyed and probably not in a good mood. Jacob probably let him know I was there, and I was still getting out of my jacket when I heard Alex's voice:
“When you've a moment, Chase, come up.”

Alex maintains a secondary office upstairs. That's where he retires when he wants to do research or simply get his mind away from the day's business. I don't bother him when he's there unless we've caught fire.

When I walked in, he was sipping orange juice and munching on a chocolate donut. He tapped a finger on the display, which was filled with arcing lines and numbers. “Chase,” he said, “I think we have it.” His eyes glowed. “Jacob, show her.”

The room darkened, and I found myself looking across a starscape. A terrestrial planet and its sun floated in the foreground. “Good morning to you, too, Alex,” I said.

“Oh, yes, sorry. Good morning.” He took a deep breath. “I've been locked up with this stuff all night.”

“So what have we got?”

“Did you get some breakfast?”

“Not yet.” The normal routine was to check in and then hit the dining room. But I wanted to know what he had to tell me.

“Do you want to eat first?”

He was being a tease. “Come on, Alex,” I said. “What do you have?”

He waited for me to sit. “Why were Robin and Winter both interested in black holes?” he said.

“We've been over that, Alex.”

“I don't mean the standard fascination by every physicist in the Confederacy. You remember telling me that Winter was tracking the trajectories of some black holes?”

“Yes, of course. You're not going to tell me one of them's coming this way, are you?”

“No, Chase.”

“Kidding.”

“Actually, that was my first thought. That a black hole was headed somewhere. But I checked them as soon as I was able. As far as Jacob can tell, no black hole anywhere is threatening anybody.”