Seeker (11 page)

I even got to hear him speak. “
Thank you, Harv
,” he said, and immediately corrected himself: “
Mr. Striker
.” Smile for the audience. We all know he’s really good old Harv. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it, and made a face at it. “
The corps wants me to say thanks to all the parents, and to Mr. Striker, and the Society
,” he said. “
We’re grateful for your help. Without you, we wouldn’t be here
.”

The kid was on his way.

And there was a middle-aged Adam as an observer at the table of Jay Bitterman when Bitterman received the Carfax Prize. And Adam again during a birthday celebration for a politician with whom he’d developed a passing relationship.

And Adam’s wedding. He’d shown good taste and married his pilot, Margaret Kolonik. Margaret looked gorgeous the way brides inevitably do because they are happy and emotional and celebrating a premier moment. In fact, though, she’d have looked good in an engine room. She had the same highlighted black hair I’d seen in her daughter, framing perfect features and a smile that lit up the room.

The routine at Survey is to interchange pilots and researchers after each mission. The average mission now lasts about eight or nine months, and I doubt things were much different forty years ago. It was done because the missions usually carried only the pilot and one or two researchers. People locked away like that for extended periods of time tend to get on each other’s nerves.

But the background information indicated the happy couple had been together ten consecutive flights. On the last two, their baby daughter Delia had been along. I assumed there was no problem arranging that if you wanted to do it.

I sat in my office and watched Margaret Kolonik stride purposefully up the aisle to take charge of her guy. No wilting flower, this one. The data prompt informed me that her father was dead, and she was given away by an uncle, an overweight man who kept looking around as if he wanted to escape. Not somebody she’d have been very close to, I thought.

It was a religious ceremony. A priest requested the blessings of the Almighty on the happy couple, and led them in their vows. The best man produced the ring, Adam slipped it on her finger, she waltzed into his arms, and they kissed.

I envied them that moment. I’ve had a good life and can’t complain. But I don’t think I’ve ever approached the sheer joy I saw in Margaret’s eyes as she let go of him, and they started back down the aisle.

The best man was described as a lifelong friend of Adam’s, Tolly Weinborn. I recognized him immediately and switched back to the Explorer ceremony. And there he was, about thirteen, standing at attention with his comrades, with all due intensity and innocence.

I found Tolly after a quick search. He was living in Barkessa, on the northern coast, where he was an administrator at a public service office, the kind of place people go to when they’re in trouble. He was not available at the moment, the AI told me. Could they have him return the call?

I found other tasks to occupy my time while I waited, among them looking for books that dealt with the Margolians and their flight from Earth. I came across
The Golden Lamp
, by Allie Omar. Omar looks at the causes of humanity’s long history of starting and stopping, taking three steps backward, turning left, going forward, and doing lots of pratfalls. Her basic question: What might have happened if, since the twenty-seventh century, the human race had been able to avoid the infighting, the economic dislocations, the collapses? Had we sidestepped the three distinct sets of dark ages that set in during the Fourth, Seventh, and Ninth Millennia? Assume a straightforward dead-ahead unimpeded progress. Where would we be?

She doesn’t answer her own question, but is satisfied with speculating on what the result might have been had the Margolians succeeded. The bottom line: They would be technologically three or four thousand years ahead of us.
They’d regard us, not as barbarians, but as distinct inferiors
.

In the early years of interstellar travel, people worried about meeting aliens who would prove to be vastly superior.
In technology. Perhaps ethically. Possibly both
. And the fear was that, faced by a hypercivilization, however benevolent its intentions might be, humans would simply lose heart. Similar effects had been observed time and again during the early years as man spread around his home world.

But, where the Margolians were concerned, the fears were, of course, unfounded. After leaving Earth, they were never seen again. And, across thousands of years, the only aliens we’ve encountered are the telepathic Ashiyyur, the Mutes, sometime friends, sometime rivals, occasional enemies. We discovered to our surprise that we were their technological equals. And since they still engaged in war among themselves, and occasionally against us, we were further gratified to conclude they were no better than we were.

There was no one else. Visits to star systems over the millennia produced numerous living worlds, but none with anything you could call recognizable intelligence. Of course there were some species out there with potential. If you were prepared to wait around a few hundred thousand years, you might have someone to talk with. But the galaxy, as Art Bernson famously said, has a lot of empty rooms.

Tolly never called back, so I tried him at home that evening. When I mentioned Wescott’s name to his AI, he immediately agreed to talk to me. He still looked relatively young, despite the accumulation of years. The features, cherubic in the twelve-year-old, congenial in the best man, had assumed a kind of world-weariness.

He’d gained weight, and his face was lined, his once-red-blond hair gone mostly gray. He wore a beard, and he had something of a haunted look. Too many years of public service, maybe. Too many sad stories.

I identified myself and explained that I was doing some historical research. “Did you keep in touch with Adam after he got married?” I asked.

He couldn’t suppress a grin. “
It was impossible to stay in touch with him. He was away too much
.”

“Did you see him at all?”

He bit his lip and pushed back in his chair. “
A couple of times. During the early years
.”

“What about after he left Survey? When his career was over?”

No hesitation this time: “
His career never ended
,” he said. “
He might have left Survey, but he and Margaret kept making flights. Did it on their own
.”

“You mean they paid the bills?”

“Yes.”

“Why did they do that?”

Shrug. “
Don’t know. I always assumed they’d gotten hooked and just had to keep going. I asked him that question once
.”

“What did he say?”

“ ‘The world is too small.’ ”

“But why wouldn’t they have stayed with Survey if that’s what they wanted to do?”

“He said Survey always gave him a prepared itinerary. He liked being able to go wherever he wanted.”

“That make sense to you?”

“Sure. They had plenty of money. They’d saved all those years, and Margaret had access to a trust of some sort.”

“Did you ever think about going along with them?”

“Who? Me?”
The grin spread across his face.
“I like to keep my feet on the ground. Good old terra firma. Anyhow, I had a career to take care of. Such as it was.”

“Did they ever invite you?”

He rubbed his jaws. “
I just can’t remember, Chase. It’s too long ago. I’m sure they’d have made room for me if I’d asked
.”

“Do you know where they were going? On the private flights? Did they go to different places? Or was it the same destination all the time?”

He reached for a glass half-filled with a colorless liquid and ice cubes. He took a sip and put it back down. “
I always assumed they went to different places
.”

“But you didn’t ask?”

“What would be the point of going back to the same place all the time?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“You must have had something in mind when you asked the question.”

I let him see I was talking off the top of my head.

“Why does it matter?”
he asked.

“We’re trying to put together a history of the missions during those years.” The answer seemed to satisfy him. “And he never said anything to you at all about those flights?”

“I didn’t see him that much, Chase. And no, I can’t really remember anything he might have said. Except probably, when he got back, that he was glad to be home.”

“Tolly, is there anybody else he might have spoken to? Anyone who might know what those later missions were about?”

He needed a minute or two to answer that one. He mentioned a couple of names. Someone who might have known, maybe, but he died a few years back. And there was a friend of Margaret’s, they might have talked to
her
, but she’s dead, too.

“Let’s try a different approach, Tolly. Did Adam, or Margaret, either of them, ever tell you they’d found something out there? Something unusual?”

“Like what?”

“Like an old starship.
Really
old.”

“No, I don’t know about anything like that.”
He shook his head.
“Well, maybe he did say something once or twice.”

“What did he say?”

“He was kidding around. Said they’d found something that would blow the socks off everybody.”

“But he didn’t say what?”

“Wouldn’t tell me. Just smiled and said how they were going back out eventually and I was going to get the surprise of my life. But he kidded a lot. You know what I mean?”

I reported both conversations to Alex. “Good,” he said. “We’re making progress.” He rubbed his hands and told me I’d done brilliantly.

I couldn’t see it. “In what way?” I asked. “The only thing I can see that we’ve done is compromise the interests of our client.”

“We’ll find a way to make it up to her.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“Buy her a nice birthday present. Point out to her the possibility of a major find out there, and that if we can come up with it, she’ll get a generous share.”

“I don’t think she’s the type to let the cash go and settle for an outside chance.”

“I know.” He sucked in some air. “We bungled that part of things, I guess.”

“We?”

“Okay. I did. Look, Chase, we’ve been doing what we had to.”

“We could have just moved the merchandise, taken our commission, and made the lady happy. Now, if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll have to settle for some reward money. And I don’t like the way this is working out for Amy.”

“I know.” He looked unhappy. “Ms. Cable appears to be generous. If nothing else develops from this, I’m sure she’ll compensate us for our trouble.”

“I’m sure.”

“Chase, we had an ethical responsibility here. We don’t market stolen goods.”

“I’d like not to be here when you explain it to Amy.”

Where did they go? Into the glade, or along the river? Back to the sea, or beyond the moon?
— Australian children’s fable, twenty-third century C.E.

We debated taking Amy back to the Hillside, but we were both concerned she might make a scene. It was better to talk things out at the office,
then
see whether she’d be receptive to a meal.

I’ll say one thing for the woman: She was no dummy. She knew as soon as she walked in the door it was bad news. “What?” she demanded of Alex, bypassing the customary greetings, and ignoring me altogether.

Alex directed her to the sofa and sat down behind the desk. Would she like something to drink? Thanks, no.

“It’s beginning to appear,” he said, “the cup was stolen.”

Her nostrils quivered. “That’s crazy. Hap gave it to me. It was a peace offering after I caught him screwing around. A goddam
cup
.”

That wasn’t quite the same story she’d told us initially.

“It seems odd,” said Alex. “Ordinarily you’d expect flowers or candy.”

“Yeah. Well, Hap wasn’t your ordinary kind of guy. It was the cup I usually drank out of when I was over there, and he wasn’t going to go out of his way.”

“You
drank
out of it?” Alex was horrified.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“No.” Alex cast a quick glance my way. “No, not at all.” We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

“I didn’t steal it,” she said. “I asked you not to contact him. Is that what he’s saying? It’s a lie.” She finally looked over at me. “It’s just like him. Now that he knows it’s worth something, he wants it back.”

“Hap doesn’t know anything,” Alex said smoothly. “Hap isn’t the problem.”

“Who is?” she demanded.

“There’s a fair chance that Hap didn’t have legitimate ownership.”

“You mean Hap stole it from someone? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Not Hap. Probably his father.”

Color flowed into her cheeks. “Maybe you should just give it back to me and we’ll forget the whole thing.”

“We can do that, if you like. But the person we think was the original owner knows that we know where it is. I expect she’ll be taking action.”

“Thanks. You’ve been a big help, Mr. Benedict. Now please give me my cup.”

Alex’s tone never changed: “In order to be able to get it back, though, the other party will have to be able to establish ownership. I don’t know whether she can do that.”

Amy stared at Alex. “Please get me the cup.”

He sighed. “Have it your way, if you must. But it’s a mistake.” He excused himself and left the office. Amy sat stiff as a board.

“We can probably arrange a finder’s fee,” I said.

She nodded violently.

“We really had no choice,” I continued. That was hedging a bit, but there was some truth to it.

She was on the verge of tears. “Just leave me alone.”

Alex came back with the cup, showed it to her and packed it in a container. “You won’t want to let anything happen to it, Amy.”