We spent two days looking at the inventory before finally settling on a black-and-white Coyote. I liked it. It cost more than we'd expected to spend, but it was a solid vehicle. Gabe was ecstatic, though I think it was primarily because he was getting a home.
Meantime, Belle had begun reporting. As I expected, everything was negative. No Firebird. Everything quiet so far.
When we got back to the country house, I called Shara. She asked how Alex was doing, and I was able to tell her he seemed better. I thought he'd come to realize that he'd followed his conscience, and that was all he could do. “You'll like the new lander,” I added.
She asked what kind we'd gotten, and looked pleased when I told her. “Must be nice,” she said, “to have that kind of money.”
I wasn't going to touch that. “The reason I called, Shara, is that I've been looking at the target area for the Firebird. It's big. If it doesn't broadcast, we won't have much chance of finding anything that small.”
“I know.” She was in her office at the university. “I've been going back over the numbers. You're right. It's a lot of space to cover. But you expect it to put out a signal, don't you?”
“Alex is hopeful. But we're not counting on it.”
Jacob pardoned himself. “Chase, you have a transmission from Belle.”
I excused myself and tried to tamp down my heartbeat. “Let's see it, Jacob.”
1121. I think we've acquired the target.
We keep champagne stored in back. We celebrate a lot. Any kind of excuse, and we pop the cork. When I passed Belle's message to Alex, I'd waited for him to go back and get a bottle.
But he made no move to do so. It was, of course, possible that he'd forgotten. But that wouldn't have been at all like him. Alex lived for celebrations. Raise a glass and feel good about yourself or your friends whenever the opportunity permits.
Finally, I went back myself and brought a bottle out.
“No,” he said. “It's premature.”
I realized at that point that finding the Firebird was only the beginning of what he was hoping for.
THIRTY-ONE
The problem with patience is that it takes time. There's usually a payoff, if anyone is still around to receive it.
The time of the sighting, 1121 hours, was of course our time. What Alex liked to call country-house time. A second message followed moments after I showed up with the champagne:
1127. It just jumped in. Have gone to intercept course.
Then another:
1129. Target vehicle is under power. Am attempting radio contact. Range approx 600 km.
And:
1134. No response to radio call. Or to blinking light.
Alex got up from his chair and moved closer to the display. The view from the Belle-Marie appeared. A sky full of stars. A marker blinked on. This one.
1139. Location as indicated. No details yet.
I sat back. Tried to relax. “We're lucky,” I said. “I didn't think we'd find it this easily.”
“Why not?”
“There's so much empty space.”
“You're saying we just don't have the coordinates down to a sufficient degree.”
“Not exactly. I'm saying that when you're talking about the pit, open space for billions of kilometers in all directions, it's impossible to pin down a location within a few hundred, or a few thousand, kilometers. There's simply no way to measure it. It's like trying to pinpoint a specific butterfly somewhere on the continent when you have only the latitude and longitude.”
“Well, it looks as if we found the butterfly.”
1147. Still no response.
There was nothing visible other than the marker. Then it morphed into a dim ring.
“There it is,” said Alex.
Inside the ring, we began to see a light.
The room grew very quiet. Eventually, the light brightened and broke apart. The ring faded away. And we were looking at the outline of a vehicle.
Lights were fore and aft, and on twin fins. “I wish we had decent communications with Belle,” Alex said. “I hate this long-range stuff.”
1203. It's a Kandor yacht, approx manufacture date mid-14th cent.
Almost a hundred years ago. We'd gone through all the records and had nowhere been able to find a picture of the Firebird. We had no description and had no idea whether it had been a Kandor. But the odds of another vehicle being in the search area were remote.
“Is it at maximum magnification?” he asked.
“Yes.”
1206. I expect to be alongside within two hours. Will send more pictures as situation develops.
The display went blank.
Alex gradually extracted himself from the screen.
He isn't good at sitting still when something's happening. He walked over to the window, adjusted the blinds, wandered off to the rear of the house, came back and asked about a couple of routine business matters, called somebody about the lost comedy shows of Yang Sen Hao and maintained a pleasantly affable manner until he was off-line. Then he grumbled that a little more effort on the part of whomever he'd been talking with would help immensely.
It was almost an hour before the pictures came back.
1251. Interior lights are on. No indication of movement inside.
Alex muttered a barely audible damn. He showed no other reaction.
I decided to put a happy face on things. I should know better, of course. “Major breakthrough,” I said.
“I suppose.”
“Alex, we found the damned thing.”
“I know.”
“Two weeks from now, you and I will be out there.”
“Okay. Are we now in a position where we know exactly where we'll be going? And when we should arrive?”
“There's still a degree of uncertainty about it, Alex. It might take a day or two to get it right.”
“And it's probably only there for a couple of hours. Which means we might not find it at all.”
“That's possible. For one thing, there's no radio signal.”
“Okay. We need more exact data.”
“You want to send Belle a second time?”
“Will that help?”
“Yes. Even if it only tells us where not to look.”
“All right. That's the way we'll do it-” His voice trailed off. He was staring at the display.
I followed his gaze. The airlock was open. Or at least the outer hatch was.
“Can you tell,” he asked, “whether the inner hatch is closed?”
“No. But airlocks are designed so both hatches can't be open at the same time. You can do it, but you need to do an override.”
“So the interior should be secure.”
“I hope so.”
“So do I.” He was quiet for a moment. Then: “Why would they take off and leave it open like that?”
He wandered out and went upstairs. I went back and had some lunch. He skipped it, which was not at all characteristic. I was back in my office when the next message arrived:
1427. Alongside yacht. No response. No sign of activity. Outer airlock hatch open.
The yacht didn't look like something you'd name Firebird. It had originally been designed as a luxury vehicle. That much was obvious enough. But it had a few parts that needed bolting down. And if it had been top-of-the-line in another era, in the current age it appeared pretentious, with pale white struts and ports that resembled teardrops.
Alex, alerted by Jacob, arrived moments later, looked at the message, and lowered himself into a chair.
We were close enough by then to see the yacht's name written in script on the hull. Tai Ling. Robin had never gotten around to changing it.
We had the image for about a minute before Belle cut the transmission again. We couldn't tie up the TDI relay with a two- or three-hour data stream. The cost would have been through the roof, and they probably wouldn't have allowed it anyhow. And there would have been no point to it. Belle continued to send occasional updates, which said nothing had changed.