“Toward 1107?”
“Yes.”
“A hundred-forty degrees. Not one-eighty?”
“No. It’s not a case of a signal merely passing through close to the star.”
“You’re sure? Could the neutron star be bending the signal? They do that, you know.”
“Not forty degrees, Hutch.”
“So there’s a relay station.”
“That’s what we think.”
She laughed. “And the source is way the hell off somewhere else.”
“Apparently.”
“Can you tell where?”
“No. We don’t have an angle. It’s what we’d like you to get.”
“So this is turning into a serious operation. Why don’t you send out a regular mission?”
“Politically, I don’t dare. Priscilla, you’re our mission. See what’s going on. Report back as soon as you figure it out.”
“Okay.”
“You have Pete out there, so it’s not as if you’re alone.”
“We’ll do what we can.”
“Good. I’ll send the specifics to Bill. On another subject, I understand you’ll be meeting Mr. Hockelmann and his group this afternoon.”
“That’s correct.”
“Good. George is a little strange. Doesn’t like UFO jokes. You understand what I’m telling you?”
A mule could understand. “Yes, Sylvia.”
“I’d be grateful if…” She stopped and looked uncomfortable. “I just want to remind you there’s a diplomatic side to this operation.”
Hutch hadn’t been aware until a few moments ago there’d been any other side.
“He doesn’t know yet about the new transmission. I suggest you enlighten him. Give him the data packet. There’s nothing in it, really. Characteristics of the signal, as much as we have. But give it to him. He’ll be appreciative.”
Something for the head of mission to play with. “Okay. Obviously we still have nothing in the way of translation?”
“No. Our people say they don’t have enough text. That’s something else I’d like you to concentrate on out there. Get more on the record.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“I know you will. By the way, I don’t know what sort of experience you have around neutron stars. There is very strict guidance on how close in you can go.”
“I know.”
“Bill will bring you up to date.”
“Okay.”
“We’ve given you a lander, just in case. Obviously you won’t have any use for it at 1107.”
“So why do I have it?”
“My original thought was that it would be unlikely anything untoward would happen while you were at 1107. Eventually, you’ll probably join the Condor. Captain Brawley has instructions to take his people groundside if he can determine it’s safe and they find anything to attract their interest. Anything at all.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t want George and the others feeling cheated. So don’t hesitate to go over and join the party. You’ll only be a few hours away.”
“Sylvia, who’s in charge?”
She squirmed. “You’re the ship’s captain.”
“That’s not what I asked. I mean, I’ve got the owner on board.”
“That’s true. Technically, the contract describes you as operator and advisor. But I’m sure George and his people will do as you suggest.”
Oh, that’s good. But on the other hand, how much trouble could they possibly get into? The mission seemed clean enough. Go out to 1107, listen for signals, record them, scan for a relay system, maybe join Preach looking at a couple of moonscapes. Simple enough. “Okay,” she said.
“Excellent.” Virgil appraised her and looked less than confident. Ah, well, we’ll hope for the best. “Good luck, Hutch,” she said. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
SHE SPENT MOST of the afternoon in the operational tank, taking the Memphis through a series of virtual maneuvers, getting a feel for her characteristics and responses and, most significantly, for her sensor and enhancement capabilities. The Academy had prepared a series of high-gravity scenarios and problems for her. She failed a few, and twice got caught in the grip of the dead star. On those occasions her controls went into null mode while warning lamps flashed and Bill’s voice told her quietly that she was being pulled apart and distributed around the area.
Hutch had her doubts that AI’s were really nothing more than pure simulation. They were programmed to react differently to different pilots, depending on the pilot’s psychological profile. Bill never really did anything that couldn’t be explained as programming. But of course one could say the same thing about human beings.
She felt a genuine presence in the Academy AI. She knew the system was designed to inspire precisely that reaction, since it was occasionally the only company a pilot might have on a long flight. But still it was impossible to avoid the sense that there was somebody back behind the console.
In any case the first thing she did when she came aboard the Memphis was to say hello to him. “I’m glad you changed your mind about leaving, Hutch,” he replied. “I missed you.”
“It’s only temporary, Bill,” she said.
He stayed with her while she toured the ship.
“Nice curtains,” he said. “And the carpets are extraordinary. Do you know what it reminds me of?”
“I have no idea.”
“The Los Angeles Regency.” A luxury hotel.
“That’s a good spot,” she said. “But how would you know?”
“I have unplumbed depths.”
Food stores, water, and fuel were still being loaded, but operations assured her everything would be in place an hour before departure.
She checked other supplies and discovered they lacked a few toiletries, primarily toothpaste and shampoo. The latest sims had not been uploaded. That could be done under way, but it tied up the circuits. Moreover, reproduction of transmitted sims was never quite as effective.
At 1530 she wandered down to the Academy spaces for the get-acquainted meeting with the Contact Society team. Herman and Peter were waiting when she walked in, talking with Alyx Ballinger. Fresh from the London stage, where she was directing and performing in Grin and Bare It.
Alyx was tall, long-legged, regal, with golden hair and sparkling brown eyes. Hutch came up to her shoulder. Herman, smiling like an idiot, did the introduction.
“Good to meet you, Captain,” said Alyx, offering her hand.
Hutch returned the greeting, and suggested they all get on first-name terms. “It’s a long flight,” she added. “We’re going well outside the bubble.”
“Out past the frontier,” said Herman, trying not to stare at Alyx.
“Tell me, Hutch,” said Alyx, “what do you think about all this? Are we going to find anything?”
“Hard to say. There are signals. So there’ll be a transmitter of some sort, I guess.”
Pete’s smile radiated pure pleasure. “Don’t worry about the details,” he told Alyx. “Just being on the flight will be an experience we’ll not forget.”
The door opened and they were joined by a tall, muscular man who looked like a natural-born CEO. “Ah,” he said, spotting Hutch, “Captain, it’s good to meet you finally. I’m George Hockelmann.”
And so you are. Baritone voice. Stands straight as an oak. Something about him inspired confidence immediately. She looked around at Alyx, not only beautiful but also apparently intelligent. At Pete, who had sold the general population on the wonders of the cosmos and persuaded large numbers of them to kick in money to the Academy. At George. Even at Herman, who was as mundane as anyone with whom she’d ever shipped. Where were the fanatics she’d been expecting?
“We’re not all here yet,” said Herman.
Hockelmann nodded. “Nick and Tor,” he said. “We pick them up en route.” He turned expectantly toward Hutch.
Showtime.
She allowed a frown to creep into her eyes. “Alyx, gentlemen,” she said, “we’ll be leaving in just under two hours. You’ve all been assigned quarters. I think you’ll find, thanks to George, the accommodations on the City of Memphis more than adequate.”