The Sails of Tau Ceti (27 page)

She felt a rosy glow at the thought of her old mentor. She had learned that Dard was on Earth, and had invited him to this evening’s party. He had been hesitant at first, but had finally agreed. The festivities were ostensibly to honor a scientist who had been awarded one-fifth of a Nobel Prize. The real purpose, of course, was to collect a few more IOUs against the day when the Third Fleet began unfurling its light sails at the edge of the Solar System.

Tory felt rather than heard the quiet sound behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see a six limbed figure silhouetted against the light, making its way in her direction.

“I thought I would find you out here,” Maratel said. “What are you doing?”

“Star gazing.”

Maratel’s eyes also sought out Mira and the small yellow dot on the horizon that was Tau Ceti. Tory had long ago learned that Phelan vision was not quite as sharp as human, making it impossible for Maratel to spot the light sail. “The stars are beautiful tonight. It must have been like this at home before the nova.”

“Phela
was
very like Earth,” Tory mused. She had seen many views of the destroyed world aboard
Far Horizons
, but had not realized how alike the two worlds had been until she came to Earth.

Maratel let her eyes scan the city lights and the dark sea beyond. “I wasn’t sure about this place when we first arrived, but now I think we’re going to like it here.”

The two of them lapsed into silence. In the two years they had worked together, Tory had lost all resentment toward Maratel. Their relationship had grown into true friendship. After all, Tory often reminded herself, the Phelan was merely doing the best she could for her people. Besides, Maratel worked at being likable.

Each Phelan ambassador had a specialty. Faslorn was in charge of policy while Raalwin concentrated on the day-to-day details of human politics. It was his job to convince the System Council that their interests lay in granting the refugees’ request for a home on Earth. Negotiations had progressed to where there was talk of ceding a tract in the Australian outback to the aliens. Neirton specialized in psychology and sociology. He guided the public relations campaign aimed at convincing the average human that the Phelan were harmless. The holomovies and other entertainments in which Neirton invested did not mention the aliens, but all of them preached tolerance and understanding.

As for Maratel, her primary job was looking after Tory. Not that they doubted her loyalty to the task — not with the survival of the human race at stake. Still, Maratel was always around to jolly Tory out of her periodic bouts of depression, or to give her a sympathetic shoulder (actually four of them) to cry on. Tory could have done much worse for a jailer.

“It’s about time for the first guests to begin arriving,” Maratel reminded her after a few seconds spent gazing at the stars.

“Right.”

The two of them turned and made their way inside. The penthouse that served as Phelan living quarters was filled with last minute preparations. White-coated waiters hurried about, stocking the refreshment stations. One floor down, other waiters were laying out the china and silver service for dinner. A few discordant musical notes announced that the string ensemble in the main salon was also getting ready.

Tory moved to a full-length mirror and checked for wind damage. Her hair was piled high tonight, with jewels sprinkled through the black tresses. Her complexion, which had been unmarked by the sun upon arrival, was now several shades darker. Tory found the change distasteful, but most terrestrials complimented her on her tan. Her gown was a translucent fabric that revealed as much as it concealed. She carefully rearranged the few wisps that had been blown out of place, and then adjusted the simple chain of gold around her waist. Pendant earrings and a small gold bracelet made up the remainder of the ensemble, along with mirrored high heel shoes that peeked out from under the hem of her gown.

“You are very beautiful tonight,” a voice said from behind her.

She glanced in the mirror to discover Faslorn standing behind her, and sighed. “If only those weren’t just words.”

“Nonsense. I have studied the human parameters of beauty most carefully. By nearly all of them, you are beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Faslorn was dressed in an expensive copy of a human gentleman’s evening tunic and formal kilt. Like Tory, his jewelry was understated and very expensive.

“Is everything ready for this evening?”

Tory consulted her implant. “Just about. The hostesses are doing their final primping and the kitchen reports dinner will be served at 21:00 sharp.”

Faslorn used the Phelan gesture that corresponded to a nod. “Let’s get someone down to the tube station to receive our guests. Make sure they can recognize the guest of honor.”

“All taken care of. Two greeters are standing by. Both have several holograms of Professor Garrity.”

Faslorn ‘smiled.’ “You are not only beautiful, Tory, but efficient.”

“Thank you again.”

He reached out, took her arm in his upper right hand, and squeezed reassuringly. “I understand
Far Horizons
is visible to humans tonight.”

She nodded. “I was just outside to see for myself.”

“Then we are entering our final phase. If we all do our jobs properly, both of our species will benefit from our efforts.”

Tory looked at him sharply. Over the past year, she had learned to read Phelan gestures fairly well. It would not have been apparent to another human being, but she thought Faslorn betrayed more anxiety than usual. Could it be that he was as frightened as she was?

It was something she would have to think about.

#

“Dard, you look marvelous!” Tory enthused. The party had been in progress for an hour and it was getting along toward dinner. Tory, who had been circulating among the guests, finally spotted the balding figure of her old boss. She crossed the salon to where he stood with a man and a woman. All three had the look of new arrivals.

“Hello, Tory. You look positively ravishing tonight!”

Tory found herself blushing at the compliment, or was it the presence of a friend? Her official position as advocate for the Phelan required that she look upon virtually every other member of her species as an adversary. It felt good to let the old emotions flow again, if only for a few minutes.

“Thank you. Who are your friends?”

“Victoria Bronson, may I present Professors Bernardo Lucci and Pauline Francovich? Pauline works out of Farside Observatory. She is the discoverer of your alien friends’ ship. Bernie is from the University of Lyon where he occupies the Galileo chair of astronomy. His recent enthusiasm is paleo-astronomy.”

“Huh?”

“The study of old astronomical records, Miss Bronson,” Lucci replied.

“Please, call me Tory. Everyone does.”

“Tory, then.”

She turned back to Pierce. “Well, Dard, what do you think of our little party?”

Pierce sipped from the drink he had snagged off a passing tray, and gazed about the salon. “I’m envious. Look, there is Angus MacCrory and Raphaella Higgens! If I’d been able to attract them to my fund raisers, we could have launched
Starhopper
a decade early.”

“Then we wouldn’t have had it available to send out to meet
Far Horizons
.”

Pierce scratched at one ear and regarded her with a quizzical look. “As I remember, you were opposed to using the probe in that manner, and quite vocal about it!”

“So I was. It just goes to prove that we all make mistakes.”

“Hmmm…”

She remembered him at times in the past when he had been avoiding painful subjects.

“Out with it, Dard.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I want to hear whatever it is you aren’t saying.”

He shrugged. “I had a conversation with your ex-beau the other day. He seems to think that you are making a mistake right now.”

She sighed. “Yes, I know. Ben and I had a long discussion about my helping the Phelan the night I came home, and again at lunch the next day. We haven’t spoken socially since.”

He grinned. “Well, if the truth be known, I never really liked Tallen that much. He was always too damned smug for my taste.”

“Why, Dard! You never told me that.”

“Do I look like someone who is dumb enough to catalog a man’s defects to his beloved?”

“What is important enough to bring you to Earth?”

“I’m attending a scientific conference Bernie arranged. We’re trying to clean up some mysteries that have hung on far too long.”

“Actually,” Pauline Francovich said, “it’s just an excuse for a lot of academics to gather, sit around the pool, and lap up alcohol. We justify our expense vouchers by talking about astronomy while working on our tans.”

“I love old mysteries. What’s this one about?”

Pierce hooked his thumb in the direction of Neirton, who was talking to another group a few meters distant. “Indirectly, it relates to your friends.”

“The Phelan?”

“We’re studying the Tau Ceti nova,” Lucci explained. “It was a rather anomalous event, you know. Not only are single stars not supposed to nova, but when it did, it got the light curve completely wrong.”

“Oh?” Tory said as alarm bells began to ring inside her head.

“We asked the Phelan about it and they suggested that our instruments were fouled up. Well, I can tell you that I have studied the old data for the last three years and there is nothing at all wrong with it. Tau Ceti was putting out 2.6 percent less light than it should have for the first several hours after it exploded. We have no idea why.”

Tory tried to keep her voice under control as she asked, “None at all?”

“Nary a one,” Pierce replied. “That’s what makes it interesting. If one main sequence star can explode…”

“… Then why not another?” Pauline Francovich said, finishing his sentence for him. “The sun is a main sequence star, you know.”

“Do you need any help?” Tory asked as she thought furiously about how to change the subject. Unlike her guests, she had a good idea what had caused the nova’s light deficiency.

“What sort of help?”

“Funds, facilities, computer time?”

“What are you suggesting?” Pierce asked. At the mention of possible support, the old fundraiser’s reflexes took over.

“Since your studies concern Tau Ceti, the embassy might be willing to underwrite your conference, and possibly even some original research. The Phelan are as baffled as we are about why their sun blew up.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Pauline replied.

“Remember, their civilization fell apart as soon as the astronomers announced what was to happen. The observatories were hit especially hard by rampaging mobs. Many records were destroyed.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“We can send you information on the Time of Troubles if you like.”

“Never mind that,” Pierce said. “The Phelan would be willing to underwrite a line of inquiry into why their star blew up?”

“Sure, if they thought it would be productive.” Tory left unsaid the fact that Phelan funding would give the Phelan some measure of control over the research. They could make sure that inquiries into natural causes for the Tau Ceti nova were well supported while any suggestion that the cause had been unnatural was quickly snuffed out.

“What about their space observations of the buildup and aftermath of the nova?” Lucci asked. “I know they have such recordings. They sent one with that travelogue they beamed to Earth.”

“There are probably hundreds of hours of observations aboard
Far Horizons
.”

“Can we get those?”

“Not until after the ship reaches parking orbit, I’m afraid. With close encounter only 94 days away, they are going to be much too busy to fill orders for historical data. I’m sure the Phelan will have no objection to you rummaging around in the records once they make orbit.”

“Excellent!”

“In fact, why don’t I get you an appointment with Faslorn to discuss it?”

“You would do that?” Pauline asked.

“Certainly. Is Wednesday at ten all right with you?”

“Bernie and Pauline can attend,” Pierce said. “I have another engagement then.”

“Wednesday at ten is fine,” Lucci said.

“Very well. The appointment is confirmed. I notice Dard has finished his martini. May I interest each of you in some Martian scotch instead?”

CHAPTER 21

The Phelan embassy occupied the top two floors of one of Manhattan’s most luxurious towers. Except for the holographic views of lost Phela scattered about the public areas, there was little to distinguish the alien mission from hundreds of similar establishments. Nor were the embassy’s routine operations much different from those of any other large political or commercial lobbying operation. Each day the receptionist received a steady stream of favor seekers, politicians, peddlers, job seekers, and the merely curious. The visitors were directed to low ranking functionaries with the task of routing them to the proper departments. Job seekers were given applications, peddlers were directed to the procurement office; politicians were given over to protocol officers. The rest, those with no place in the Phelan master plan, were given refreshments, a few minutes with a sympathetic ear, and then sent on their way.

Some visitors were school children. These were given a quick tour, shown a holo program about Phela, and then allowed to circulate around a large cutaway model of
Far Horizons
. They, too, were given refreshments before being sent on their way with a packet of literature that contained a commemorative medallion.

Some visitors were VIPs. These bypassed the screening process. They were met at the embassy’s private tube station by high-ranking protocol officers, then escorted directly to the penthouse living quarters.

The embassy employed more than a hundred human beings directly, and several thousand others through various contractors that included caterers, public relations firms, hoteliers, surveyors, geologists, and a hundred other specialties. No human but Tory knew the real reason behind their employers’ frenetic attempts to gain public acceptance. Nor did the embassy staffers feel they were being disloyal to humankind. The lower ranking employees mostly viewed their employment as just another job. The more motivated perceived that the aliens’ interests paralleled their own. In this, they were correct, although not for the reasons they imagined.