Echo. Part 9

"Okay. Why don't you tell me where you're headed? What were you planning to say about Sunset?"

"What did you expect us to say?"

"I'll tell you what you should say: That he was persistent in his efforts to make contact. That he represented the spirit of the men and women who, since Ito, have moved out into the galaxy, and who've kept going in the face of thousands of years of almost unbroken discouragement."

"I think that's pretty close to our reading of the man," I said.

"Good. I'm glad there are still some people around who understand." He looked at me, tilted his head, and somehow managed to signal that He looked at me, tilted his head, and somehow managed to signal that he he was one of the heroes he'd just described. was one of the heroes he'd just described.

"You knew Tuttle," I said.

"Yes. Other than my wife, G.o.d rest her soul, he was the closest friend I had."

"Did you ever do joint missions with him?"

"Oh, yes. A few times. But we knew we could cover more ground by separating." He began to describe some of the flights, the long weeks and months it took to reach their destinations with the technology in use during the early years of the century. The living worlds with white clouds and blue oceans. With herds of creatures running across vast plains. Giant lizards, big enough to be visible from orbit. And magnificent forests spread across continents warmed by a stable sun. He began to describe some of the flights, the long weeks and months it took to reach their destinations with the technology in use during the early years of the century. The living worlds with white clouds and blue oceans. With herds of creatures running across vast plains. Giant lizards, big enough to be visible from orbit. And magnificent forests spread across continents warmed by a stable sun. "But we never saw the lights," "But we never saw the lights," he said. he said.

"The lights?"

"When we approached a living world, we listened for electromagnetic activity. A burp on the radio. A conversation of some sort. Or a concerto, maybe. A voice voice. Something. G.o.d help us, what we would not have given to hear a voice.

"When that failed-It always failed, of course. When that failed, we went to the nightside, looking for lights. Sometimes they were there. A fire, started by a lightning strike. Or some other natural event. But what we wanted was to find a city glowing in the dark. A city-" He stopped, and laughed. It was a bitter sound. He stopped, and laughed. It was a bitter sound. "One lighted window. Somewhere. It was all we asked. A single lantern, hanging in the night. "One lighted window. Somewhere. It was all we asked. A single lantern, hanging in the night.

"Seventy years I was out there. Almost eighty, actually. Almost as long as Sunset." He took a deep breath. He took a deep breath. "But neither of us ever saw it. Never saw anything." "But neither of us ever saw it. Never saw anything."

"If you'd found something, found the lantern, what would you have done?"

"First thing: I'd have gotten in touch with Sunset. I'd have let him know. Then we'd have made an announcement."

"We?"

"Oh, yes. We'd have been together when we told them." His voice trembled. His voice trembled.

"You're suggesting he would have done the same thing?"

"Yes. Certainly. We were in it together."

"Okay."

"The reason I called-"

"Yes?"

"I had a call from him just a few days before he died. He invited me to go out on that boat ride, the one where he lost his life? It was the last time I heard from him."

"Lucky you didn't go."

"I'm not big on boats. Never did like the d.a.m.ned things. But, anyhow, he said something odd."

"What was that?"

His eyes squeezed shut and his voice trembled. " 'Ed,' he said. 'I came close. I really thought we had them.'" " 'Ed,' he said. 'I came close. I really thought we had them.'"

"He was talking about aliens?"

"Yes. I knew from the way he said it. But then the conversation got strange."

"In what way?"

"He wouldn't talk about it anymore. I mean, what's the big secret if he almost almost found them? But he just said he was sorry he'd said anything and told me to forget it." found them? But he just said he was sorry he'd said anything and told me to forget it."

"And you never figured out what he was talking about?"

"No. But there was something something going on." going on."

I showed him the tablet. "Ever see this before?"

"No," he said. he said. "What is it?" "What is it?"

"It belonged to Sunset. More than that, we don't know. Let me ask one more question: You must have known Hugh Conover?"

"Sure. We were friends."

"Do you know where he is now?"

He shook his head. "No idea. I haven't heard from him in ages." "No idea. I haven't heard from him in ages."

When Alex got in, I told him Holverson wanted him to call.

"Who's Holverson? Do you know what it's about?"

"It's about Tuttle."

"Really? What did he have to say?"

"Best you hear for yourself."

"Oh," he said. "One of those, huh?"

He went up to his office. Twenty minutes later he came down and, without saying anything about the conversation, asked if I had plans for dinner.

We went to Mully's Top of the World. On the way out, we talked about some antiques from the Marovian period that had just become available. A host showed us to our table. We ordered and made small talk until the drinks arrived. Then, finally, he asked my reaction to Holverson.

"I don't know," I said. "It sounds as if nothing ever happened. So the tablet isn't what we thought it might be."

"You think it's something that he just picked up somewhere?"

"At Larry's Concrete Creations, maybe. Sure, why not?"

"Why did he keep it in the cabinet?"

"It was a joke. Something to spook visitors."

"But he doesn't seem to have been showing it around."

"I know. Look, Alex, I don't trust my judgment on this one."

"Why not?"

I tried my drink. It was a blue daddy, and it had a bit of a sting. "Because I want want it to have happened." it to have happened."

"You mean aliens?"

"Yes."

"I know what you mean. I'm having the same problem. I don't know what I think." Music drifted in from the back room. A soft romantic melody played on a kira kira.

"Maybe," I said, "Holverson misunderstood what Tuttle said."

"It's possible." Alex tried his own drink, sat back and looked out the window. Mully's is perched near the top of Mt. Oskar, the tallest peak in the area. That might not be saying much, but the view down into the valley is spectacular. It was getting dark in the east, and the lights of Andiquar were coming on.

I waited.

Alex tapped his fingers on the table. "I can't make the pieces fit."

"My suggestion," I said, "is that we enjoy our dinner and forget the whole business. We're going to have enough to do these next few days with the Marovian stuff showing up."

"There is a problem."

"Which is?"

"If the tablet is worthless, why isn't it at the bottom of the river?"

"It's a big river."

"Yeah." He took some more of the wine. Our dinners arrived, and, with that marvelous ability to compartmentalize, Alex put the tablet out of his mind and set himself to enjoying his meal.

SEVEN.

Oh, pilot! 'tis a fearful night, There's danger on the deep.

-T. H. Bayly, "The Pilot," 1844(?) Rachel Bannister had spent several years as a freelance pilot before connecting with Universal Transport, for whom she hauled executives, clients, and politicians around the Confederacy. She went from there to World's End Tours, where she took people sightseeing. In 1403, after four years with World's End, she resigned. She was only forty-two at the time, but she left piloting altogether and, as far as the record shows, never went off-world again. At least not as a pilot. She currently ran an online financial advisory service. In her role as a social-service activist, she appeared occasionally as a guest on Nancy White's Fireside Nancy White's Fireside.

Rachel spent much of her time with volunteer organizations, primarily working with children. She led an organization that sued abusive parents and relatives, requiring them to undergo psych alterations. (Not somebody, I thought, you'd want to fool around with.) And she'd fostered a lifelong enthusiasm for music, occasionally partic.i.p.ating in amateur productions. She lived alone in a condo off Leicester Square.

Normally, we conduct business meetings online. But, for something like this, Alex's preference was for personal contact.

Leicester Square was an upscale area, a network of parks that were home to condos and small shops and restaurants. Parkland University was situated along its northern perimeter, with the Grenada Preserve to the south.

We didn't call ahead. No point alerting her. Alex took the rest of the day and read everything he could find on her. She'd gotten her license in 1382. At the University of Carpathia, she'd been a student of Tuttle's. Later, she became an occasional companion and love interest. This despite the difference in their ages. She never married.

"Hard to imagine," I said.

"What's that?" Alex was looking out at gathering clouds as we rose above the country house and turned toward Andiquar. The sun was sinking behind the horizon, and the Melony glittered in the shifting light. "Starships to stocks and bonds?"

"You got it."

"Some people would tell you that if you want a wild ride, Chase, financial securities are considerably more exciting than what you you do for a living." do for a living."

"Yeah, but n.o.body's going to take that seriously."

"You think? Ask somebody who's put his life savings on Berkmann AntiGrav." Berkmann, of course, had tanked a few months earlier. Along with a lot of other high-tech stocks.

"Say what you like, Alex, but it's a different kind of ride. What can you do with a stock portfolio that matches gliding through the Baccharian rings? Or riding with a comet?"

He laughed. "That's why I love you, Chase," he said.

We pulled into the flow of traffic, and the AI told us that Leicester Square was fourteen minutes away. "I take it things are going well with Audree," I said. He'd been out with her the previous evening.

"Well enough." Coy, but all his lights came on.

"She's a good woman."

"Yes, she is."

Traffic was heavy. "Have you guys set a date yet?"

He cleared his throat. "I don't think that's in the immediate future."

"There's someone else in her life, huh?"

"I really have no idea, Chase."

"She won't wait forever, you know."

"Do you know about somebody else?"

"No, I was just asking a question."

He fell silent. Then he changed the subject. "The touring industry isn't doing well."

"I don't think it ever has. To begin with, most people don't like the long flights. If there's not a black hole within an hour's ride, they're just not interested. They'd rather be home with their feet up living in a virtual world."

"That's probably true. Maybe it's what drove Tuttle to join the Gibbon Society."