It was commonly believed that intelligence was equated with civilized behavior and empathy. With compassion. Only idiots were wantonly cruel. But the clouds, powered by an advanced nanotechnology, had given the lie to all that. (As if six thousand years of history hadn’t.)
With luck, the mission of the Preston and the McAdams would at long last provide an answer. And how could he not want to be there when that happened?
Departure was scheduled for 1600 hours. Antonio loved that kind of talk. Cristiana inevitably smiled at him when he dropped into jargon, whether it was journalistic, military, or scientific. She didn’t take him seriously because she knew he didn’t take himself seriously. And that was probably another reason she was so worried about this assignment. He’d become intense. Did not seem to recognize the danger. The little kid who’d wondered about the omegas was riding high in the saddle.
Cristiana had traveled to the NAU to be with him during the days prior to departure. They’d ridden the shuttle up to the station. It was the first time she had been off-world. She had put on a brave front, but she’d been close to tears.
Jon and Matt had shown up when he’d most needed them. They’d wandered into the departure area, exuding confidence and reassurance. Everything is going to be fine, Cristiana. Have no fear. We’ll bring your husband back with the story of his life. Well, maybe that last was a bit unsettling, but Jon had winked and looked as if they were all going out on a Saturday afternoon picnic. “We’ll take good care of him,” Matt had promised. Then, finally, it was time to go.
They’d never been separated more than a month. Cristiana had magnetic brown eyes, chestnut-colored hair, a figure that was still pretty good, and he realized he hadn’t really looked at her, taken her in, for years. She’d become part of his everyday life, like the kids, like the furniture. Something he took for granted. She was a bit taller than he was. There’d been a time when it embarrassed him, when he’d tried to stand straighter in her presence, reaching for the extra inch. But that was all long ago. He’d gone through their courtship convinced she would come to her senses and break it off, walk away, that the day would come when he’d look back longingly on his time with her. But it had never happened. She’d signed on for the long haul.
She’d known he had work to do during those last hours, other journalists to deal with, and she didn’t want to be in the way, so she settled for looking at the two ships. Antonio had seen pictures of them with their newly acquired shielding, so he knew what to expect. It was nevertheless something of a shock to look through the viewport and see the McAdams and the Preston. They looked like long metal crates with engines and attitude thrusters. Most of the gear one normally sees on a hull—sensors, antennas, dishes—had been moved onto the armor.
He showed her through the Preston, the ship on which he’d be riding. “Nice quarters,” she said. Then it was time to go. He embraced her, suddenly aware how fortunate he had been and how long it would be before he’d see her again.
They met with the journalists in a briefing room. Hutch strolled in, queen of the world, shook hands with many of them who, by now, had become friends. Or at least, acquaintances. A woman waiting at the door wished Antonio luck, adding, “Don’t bring anything back,” a not-quite-joking reference to the widely held fears that the Mordecai mission was not a good idea.
Everybody was there, Goldman from the Black Cat, Shaw from Worldwide, Messenger from the London Times. All the biggies. And a lot of people he didn’t know.
Rudy moderated the press conference, fielding questions, standing aside for his colleagues. Some were even directed at Antonio. He’d violated the cardinal rule of journalism, had gone from covering the story to being the story. What do you expect to find out there, Antonio? How does it feel, making the ultimate trip? Do you have anything you’d like to say to the world before you leave?
They were the usual dumb questions, like the ones he’d been asking for years, but what else was there? He told them he was proud to be going, that he’d get everything down on the chip and bring it all back. “Don’t know yet what it’ll be,” he told them, “but it’ll be big.”
When they went down to the launch area, everybody followed.
Rudy was already there. He invited the newsmen inside the Preston. Goldman asked a couple of questions about the galactic core, then wondered who was riding in which ship.
“Antonio and I are on this one,” Rudy said. “Hutch is the pilot.”
She came in from somewhere, posed for pictures, then excused herself. “Have to do an inventory.”
“What do you have to inventory?” Messenger asked. “Doesn’t the AI take care of all that?”
Hutch flashed that luminous smile. “We’re talking about food, water, and air,” she said. “I feel more comfortable when I’ve checked it myself.”
“Is it true,” asked Shaw, “that you’ve got weapons on board?” He was a huge man, thick mustache, gray hair, and a world-weariness that lent gravitas to his questions.
“Hand weapons, yes. We also have extra go-packs and e-suits. And some lightbenders.”
Lightbenders made people invisible. Shaw sniffed and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why?”
“It’s strictly precautionary. We may go groundside at Makai, the chindi site, or at Sigma.” She ducked through a hatch. “Excuse me. Been a pleasure.”
Abe Koestler, from the Washington Post, asked how long it would take to get to the first stop? To Makai?
“It’s about seven thousand five hundred light-years out,” said Antonio, who had done his homework. “That’s pretty much our limit on a single jump. In fact, it might be a little bit more. It’s possible we’ll come up short and have to do it in two stages. But it looks like about a month to get there.”
Koestler shook his head. Not an assignment he’d want. He was a dumpy little middle-aged guy who always looked as if he’d slept in his clothes. “You bring a good book?”
Eventually, it was time. Matt and Jon left to go to the McAdams. Antonio told the newsmen that anyone who didn’t want to go with them should consider leaving. They trooped out after a last round of handshakes, Hutch closed the hatch behind them, and suddenly everything was deathly silent. “Are we ready to go?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Rudy.
Antonio was trying to look blasé, but he didn’t think it was working. His heartbeat had picked up. He wasn’t having second thoughts, but there was a part of him that would have liked to be outside with his colleagues.
“Relax, guys,” Hutch said. “You’ll enjoy this.”
Sisters and brothers in Jesus: While we gather here, two ships are making a leap into the dark that reminds us of the Pacific islanders who, a thousand years ago, rode fragile boats across unknown waters to see what lay beyond the horizon. We are once again reaching into a vast outer darkness. Let us take a moment and pray that the Lord will be with them, to guide their way.