“If you read the books written during the early years of the Technological Age, especially the fiction, you won’t find very much about founding outposts in the Aldebaran sector.” Something in front of him caught his eye, and he grinned. “What’s your name, son?”
Alex adjusted the angle, and we saw the person he was addressing, an athletic-looking young man with blond hair and a suddenly sheepish expression. “Colt Everson, sir,” he said.
“Colt, you look skeptical.”
In fact, Colt looked uncomfortable. “It’s hard not to be, Professor Tuttle. I can’t believe people ever seriously thought they’d find aliens. I know that’s what we always say, but how does anyone really know that?”
“Read their books.”
“Well, the fiction talks about it, about aliens, but if you read the science abstracts of the period, I don’t think you see much.”
Tuttle looked around the room. “Anybody want to respond to that?”
A young woman raised her hand. “It’s because scientists are supposed to be ruled by the evidence. During the early years of the Fourth Millennium, there was no evidence.”
Somebody prompted her: “The Third Millennium, Carla.”
“Whatever. Their reputations were on the line, as they always are.” Like Colt, she looked uncomfortable. She wanted to say more, but she smiled shyly and sat back down.
“You’re wondering about me, aren’t you, Carla? Has my reputation suffered because of the work I do? Let me point out that I was invited to speak to the graduating class at Korchnoi.” A few in back began to applaud, and it caught on and spread through the room. Tuttle waited until it had subsided. “At the risk of ruining their reputations, I think I can state unequivocally that Professor Campbell and Professor Baryman are sympathetic to the work.” More applause. It was easy enough to pick the two named persons out of the crowd. Both nodded acquiescence. “I’ve been looking for other civilizations now for more than a century. Most of my colleagues are convinced I’ve wasted my time. But, if nothing else, I’ve left a track for whoever comes after. He, or she, will know, at least, that these worlds are empty. Don’t look here. It’s not what I would have preferred to do, but maybe it’s the only way.”
“Professor?” A young man in the rear stood. “May I ask a personal question?”
“You may ask.”
“If you had it to do again, would you go in a different direction?”
“Oh, yes. Certainly. Absolutely.”
“What would you do differently?”
“You asked if I’d go in a different direction. And of course I would. I didn’t find anything in the direction I took. But if you’re asking whether I’d spend my life digging up Fifth Millennium kitchen utensils from a dead city on a world we forgot about two thousand years ago, the answer is no. Certainly not. I’d rather fail at a world-shaking effort than succeed with trifles.”
“That’s strange,” said Alex.
“What is?”
“He talks as if he left a complete record.”
“You know,” Alex said, “the tablet is going to turn out to be a joke. Something somebody gave him for his birthday. But I guess it doesn’t cost us anything to look.”
“How long did Tuttle live in the Rindenwood house?” I asked.
“He was born and died there, Chase.”
I was watching the time. I’d be leaving in a few minutes for the place. “It seems odd,” I said. “A guy who spent his life exploring the stars but never really left home.”
Alex was wearing a frumpy University of Andiquar sweater. He noticed it was hanging crooked, unbuttoned it, and fixed it. “Take a contract with you,” he said. “If Ms. Greengrass isn’t at home when you get there, park on her doorstep until she shows up and get her signature. Give her a nominal payment.”
“How much is nominal?”
“Twenty-five. No. Make it thirty-five. Just make sure we have everything in writing.” He got up and started for the door. “Chase, I don’t have to tell you—”
“I know,” I said.
I prepped a contract and got moving. A light rain had begun to fall as I came out the side door and hurried down the walkway to the pad. Alex keeps saying he’s going to put a roof over the walkway—Andiquar gets a lot of rain—but it never happens. The skimmer lit up as I entered, and said hello.
It would be a sixteen-minute run to Greengrass’s place.
Rindenwood was a moneyed area. Some houses looked like Greek temples, others incorporated Aurelian domes and Sanjo towers. No false modesty here anywhere. And not a place where I’d expect to find a government worker. Number 12 in the Gold Range was conservative by local standards, but it was a luxurious place by mine. It was a plastene two-story structure with decks on both levels and a cluster of evergreens out front. Broad lawns opened onto the Melony, where Madeleine Greengrass had a pier and a boathouse.
I descended onto the pad, sending a passel of spindels fluttering out of the trees. Alex always claimed it was a sign of bad driving when you couldn’t land without scaring the birds. It was pouring by then. I got out, made a dash along a brick walkway, and climbed three or four steps onto the front deck.
There was no tablet. I stood in front of the door, and the house asked if I needed help.
“My name’s Kolpath,” I said. “I’m here to pick up the tablet. Ms. Greengrass is expecting me.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Kolpath. But the tablet is gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“Someone came for it.”
“She was supposed to hold it for me.”
“I am sorry. I guess there was a misunderstanding somewhere. But someone else called, and they came right over.”
“Can you reach her for me? Ms. Greengrass?”
“Is this an emergency?”
“It qualifies.”
“What does?”
“Let it go. Do you know who it was? Who took the tablet?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me, please?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not really permitted to give out that kind of information.”
“Is Ms. Greengrass home?”
“No, she isn’t.”
“When do you expect her?”
“She will probably be in at the end of the day. After six o’clock.”
Tim’s people were descending onto the pad as I started back out to the skimmer. They set down beside it and climbed out. There were two of them. One was Clyde Halley, with whom I’d worked before. I didn’t know the other. Clyde was a big beefy guy, and so was his partner. “Problem, Chase?” said Clyde.
“It’s gone,” I said. “I guess we brought you guys out here for nothing. Sorry.”
“It happens,” he said. “You’re sure you don’t need us?”