Maybe her feelings for him were stronger than he’d realized.
At the end of the evening, when she kissed him, her cheek was wet.
And she let him go.
There were a couple of occasions after that for which he invited her to lunch or dinner, but she explained she was busy. Another time, Matt.
He didn’t see her again until the Preston was ready to go, and she showed up at the Foundation’s farewell luncheon. He didn’t even realize she was there until, when he was leaving with Priscilla Hutchins and one of the board members, she simply appeared standing off to one side. She smiled through the moment and formed the words Good luck with her lips. Then, before he could get to her, she was gone.
SUPERLUMINAL READIES FOR HISTORIC FLIGHT
Work has been completed to prepare the Phyllis Preston for a flight that may change the way we think about our place in the universe. The mission will employ the Locarno propulsion system, which is far more efficient than its predecessor. It’s scheduled for a mid-September departure. The destination has not yet been announced, but officials close to the Prometheus Foundation, which is underwriting the effort, are saying the ship will travel to Sirius.
Sirius is 8.6 light-years from Earth. A one-way flight, using the Hazeltine technology, would require slightly more than 20 hours. The Preston expects to make it in about 40 minutes.
Chapter 17
When Jon and his collaborators started talking about a target for the first flight out of the solar system, they’d considered Alpha Centauri and Procyon as well as Sirius. Somewhere close. But as the work on the Preston neared completion, they began to think in terms of spectacle. Why settle for something on the tour routes?
“Let’s go deep.” Later, nobody could remember who’d originally said the words, but it became their mantra. Let’s go deep. Let’s not screw around.
Let’s head outside the bubble.
The deepest penetration to date had been 3,160 light-years by the Patrick Heffernan, three decades earlier. Nobody went out that far anymore. Nobody even went close.
When Rudy mentioned it to Hutch, she shook her head. “Not a good idea.”
“Why not? Why mess around?”
“What happens if you go for a record, and there’s a problem? Nobody would be able to reach you for nine or ten months.”
They were at Rudy’s town house, enjoying the pool with Matt, Jon, and a half dozen other friends. Rudy was always a bit more bombastic at the town house. “We used to make flights like that all the time,” he said.
“That was during an era when we had missions all over the place. If something broke down, there was always somebody reasonably close. That’s not the case anymore.”
Rudy went into his I-wish-you-had-a-little-more-faith-in-us mode. “There won’t be a problem,” he said.
Matt would have liked to sell the guy some property. “She’s right, Rudy. I mean, if she weren’t, why would we need to run a test at all?”
In the end, with everyone either showing or pretending disappointment, they settled for Alioth.
The third star in from the end of the Dipper’s handle, it was eighty-one light-years from Earth. It would make a fair test without putting them at unnecessary risk.
Later that afternoon, Rudy got a call from C. B. Williams, a Worldwide executive. “Rudy,” he said, “we’d like to send someone along on the flight. Give you some decent news coverage.”
Rudy thought about it and decided it seemed like a good idea. “Okay,” he said. “We can make room for him. Or her.”
“Good. We’re talking about Antonio Giannotti. He’ll represent the entire pool.”
Antonio Giannotti. Where had Rudy heard the name before?
“He’s our science reporter,” said Williams.
No. It wasn’t that. Rudy knew the name from somewhere else.
“Thirty years ago, on the Black Cat, he was Dr. Science. Did a show for kids.”
Yes! Dr. Science. Rudy had grown up watching Dr. Science explain how gravity worked, and what climatologists were trying to do to compensate for changing weather patterns. He’d radiated so much enthusiasm about his various topics that Rudy had known by the time he was eight that he would give his life to the sciences. “Yes,” he said. “We’d enjoy having him along.”
They were well past the era during which summer in the nation’s capital provided some cool days in September. Early fall remained hot in Virginia and Maryland, and Matt was happy to be getting away from it.
He took the shuttle from Reagan the day before their scheduled departure. Rudy was on the same flight, and he was like a kid. He kept talking about how he’d been looking forward to this his whole life, and that he still couldn’t believe it was happening. He extracted a promise from Matt that, as soon as they’d gotten checked into their hotel, they’d go down and inspect the Preston.
The flight to Union lasted less than ninety minutes. When they docked, Matt led the way out, walking with studied casualness, as if he did this sort of thing all the time.
An AI informed them of their room numbers, and their baggage showed up a few minutes after they did. Matt would have preferred to shower and change, but Rudy was anxious to go. So they went.
The Preston wasn’t much to look at. It had been in service too long. It was battered by two many chunks of rock and scored by cosmic dust. A pair of devices that resembled scanners had been added to the bow. These were scramblers, which would manipulate the space-time continuum, drive a wedge into it, and allow the ship to slide between dimensions.
The words PROMETHEUS FOUNDATION were emblazoned on the hull, with the organization’s symbol, a lamp and flame. “It’s appropriate,” said Rudy, looking through a twenty-foot-wide portal.
“What is?” asked Matt.
“Prometheus. The fire-bringer.”
Jon appeared at the main hatch, waved, and came up the tube to the concourse. He was all smiles. “Good to see you guys,” he said. “Matt, I think you’re going to like your new ship.”
“Is it ready to go?” Matt asked.
“They’re still tightening a few bolts and whatnot. But yes, it’s all set.”
“Can we take a look?” asked Rudy.
“Sure.” Jon stood aside to let Rudy enter the tube first.
“Beautiful ship.” Rudy’s eyes literally bulged. The tube was transparent, and they could look out at the docking area. The Preston was secured to magnetic clamps.
Only one other ship was in port. The place was designed to service eighteen.
“Time was,” said Matt, “it would have been filled.”
Rudy produced an imager. He took pictures of the Preston, pictures of Matt and Jon, handed the device to Matt and posed with Jon for more pictures. “I’ve been up here a good bit,” he said. “Even been inside the Preston a few times. But this is different.”
Matt clapped him on the shoulder, and they went through the hatch into the ship. Matt had already been on board during the refitting. He’d familiarized himself with the controls, gotten on first-name terms with Phyllis, the AI, and was anxious to launch.