Foreigner - Explorer. Part 9

No, the log records had not surfaced, Sabin was growing peevish, and he had found no key to the information.

d.a.m.n.

had lunch with Jase. We talked about Beaufort Bay. We'll have to talk about the exact plans when I get home. That's how crazy we've become.

G.o.d, Toby, I want to get home. I want to get home-and it comes to me that it's not just the chance of waking up somewhere we didn't ever mean to go that scares me spitless. It's that I I want to get home want to get home, I, me, the the me me that's going to have a home when I get back. I changed when I went to the mainland, but not so that I didn't recognize home. I changed when I began to live on the mainland, but not so that I didn't dream of trips to the north sh.o.r.e. I changed when I went to live in s.p.a.ce, and the situation was always hot, and getting back to the island meant running a gauntlet of press and politics that just wouldn't let me alone. It's so strange out here that's going to have a home when I get back. I changed when I went to the mainland, but not so that I didn't recognize home. I changed when I began to live on the mainland, but not so that I didn't dream of trips to the north sh.o.r.e. I changed when I went to live in s.p.a.ce, and the situation was always hot, and getting back to the island meant running a gauntlet of press and politics that just wouldn't let me alone. It's so strange out here-not that we've seen anything or done anything but sit in our cabins for a year and read Dumas and race toy cars-but it's still strange; and it can only get stranger, and I think so much of home. I'm a little desperate today. I wish I had answers I don't have.

But I can't govern the changes that have already happened.

I can't govern what happens to me on the way. I never could. And every change has been away, not toward, and every change makes the circle of those who've been through this with me smaller, not larger, until at this moment I think I'm becoming a sort of black hole, and I'm going to pull everything I know into a pinpoint so none of us can get out, and then I'll stop existing at all in this universe. I'm terrified of never getting home, that you'll never get this letter.

A few people still on earth matter. You. Tabini. And if you are still speaking to me, and if I can get there, I'd like to take about a month sitting on the beach and telling you all the things most people on Mospheira wouldn't at all want to hear about. I don't know if you're curious or if you're just that patient, but for either reason, I think you'd listen and nod in the right places, even for this. I love you, brother. I miss you. And one part of me wishes you were here and the sane part says thank G.o.d you're not. Thank G.o.d something I remember is still there.

By the fact I'm now panicking, you can guess this is the scary part of our trip coming up. This is where I need every sc.r.a.p of courage I've got, and I wish I had more information of substance. I think about Banichi and Jago, and if they or the staff ever doubt our success in this crazy venture, they don't let me know it. The dowager-she won't spook, no matter what. Meanwhile I'm thinking this is the scariest thing I've ever contemplated, and there's a six- or seven-year-old kid down there playing with a toy car and thinking it's all fairly normal for a kid to be racing cars in a stars.h.i.+p corridor. He's not afraid. He doesn't imagine the trouble we could be in... or he does, but at his age everything's an adventure. Being alone in the dark scares him. The thought of dropping into deserted s.p.a.ce just doesn't faze him. I'm not sure anything scares Banichi and Jago but the thought of losing me somewhere out here. So is any fear real? Do we become self-focused cowards by measures as we get older? Or am I the only one on this deck who really knows the odds?

Jase is likely as scared as I am. Ginny hasn't got nerves. I don't know what drives her. She's just busy seeing to her staff, and that's what she does. But my staff sees tome, not the other way around, and I suppose that leaves me time enough to think, way more thinking about the consequences of various things than I find comfortable.

The beach and the sound of the waves can take all that away. I'd say, the deck of the boat, but right now, considering just stringing thoughts together is like swimming in syrup, sitting very still on a planet's solid skin sounds good to me.

On a certain day he'd had entirely enough.

He left his computer, left his notes, gathered Banichi and Jago without warning, and headed for the lift.

"Is there an emergency, Bren-ji?" Banichi asked. there an emergency, Bren-ji?" Banichi asked.

"A conference," he said, and neither Banichi nor Jago asked further questions.

Nor did they evidence any surprise whatsoever that he ordered the lift to the bridge and strode out and past working operations on the consoles, down that screened aisle. He was bound, since Sabin's bodyguards, Collins and the rest, were sitting watch down in the executive corridor, for executive offices.

The guards got up from benches-not quite hands on weapons, but close.

"I'm here to see the senior captain," Bren said in Mosphei'. "Now."

Jenrette happened to be part of that group of five. But the seniormost of Sabin's guards, Collins, was a man who'd been Sabin's for decades before Jenrette came into the picture. The lot of them might have had orders of one kind about crew coming up here-but they likely had special orders about care and coddling of their alien pa.s.sengers, too, and those separate trains had suddenly intersected, headed for collision.

"I'm not going back down," Bren said plainly, standing a little out of hearing of techs on the bridge behind him. "She won't want an incident, I can a.s.sure you."

Collins looked at him, looked at Banichi and Jago, a solid dark wall behind him.

And they were indeed about to have an incident: he was set, however muzzily, on course, and stood his ground.

"Captain," Collins said to the empty air. "Mr. Cameron's up here saying it's urgent business."

Whatever the answer was, Collins opened the door.

"Kindly wait here, nadiin-ji," Bren said quietly to Banichi and Jago, facing Sabin at her desk, Sabin-who leaned back in her chair to have a look at the intrusion into her day's problems. "Senior captain, good day."

"Mr. Cameron." No invitation, not a cue or a clue. Sabin folded her hands on her spare middle. The door shut behind him, securing their privacy.

"The record we mentioned, senior captain."

"Record."

"You want my help..."

"I don't recall requesting requesting your help, Mr. Cameron. I do recall your request. I've reviewed it. h.e.l.l if I'm giving you our log to play with. Go find other amus.e.m.e.nt." your help, Mr. Cameron. I do recall your request. I've reviewed it. h.e.l.l if I'm giving you our log to play with. Go find other amus.e.m.e.nt."

"I want the record, captain. I'm sure it doesn't take you eleven months to find a log entry. I'm sure you had it that same s.h.i.+ft we discussed it. I take it you view your survival as a matter of some importance. I want the record."

A lively, a.n.a.lytical regard. A pursing of the lips. One thing about long-time crew-they adapted to the mental conditions of folded s.p.a.ce, did it far better than planet-dwellers. Sabin's Sabin's thought processes at the moment might far out-cla.s.s his. "You do." thought processes at the moment might far out-cla.s.s his. "You do."

A little caution might be in order. "Politely put, please please, captain."

"You want it." Sabin moved her chair so suddenly a.s.sa.s.sination-honed reflexes twitched. Inwardly. He didn't budge as she opened a cabinet. And took out a tape. And held it up to his view. "You think this holds answers."

"If you know what you were looking for, with your accustomed ability, yes, I hope it does."

She flipped it to a landing on the desk. Making him reach to pick it up, a petty move. He wasn't inclined to object to that.

"Good luck," she said.

"More than this," he said, and pocketed the tape. "More than this record, captain, what's your your estimation of the facts?" estimation of the facts?"

Momentary silence. And cold irony. "Forty years and someone finally asks the question."

"I'm asking, captain. You've had, all along, a very keen sense of the risks involved in contact. If we'd had you in charge of the original contact with the atevi, we might not have fought a war. Let me guess-you've tried to figure this without my input. You You wanted your own uncontaminated a.s.sessment, uncolored by my opinions. You have some opinion of your own. What do you think?" wanted your own uncontaminated a.s.sessment, uncolored by my opinions. You have some opinion of your own. What do you think?"

Cold, cold stare. "I want your your uncontaminated a.s.sessment, Mr. Cameron. Enough is there. Beginning to end. You figure it. You tell me. Five days likely to system entry. You've worked miracles, so they tell me. You figure this one." uncontaminated a.s.sessment, Mr. Cameron. Enough is there. Beginning to end. You figure it. You tell me. Five days likely to system entry. You've worked miracles, so they tell me. You figure this one."

"You weren't going to give me this."

"I lead a full, busy life," Sabin said. Then, less provocatively: "I was still asking myself whether I was going to give it to you, to Jase-or not at all."

"Copy to him. I won't consult him until I've see this."

"Done." Sabin s.h.i.+fted the chair and punched one b.u.t.ton. "Good luck luck, Mr. Cameron. Go do your job. And don't don't do this again." do this again."

"Only to mutual advantage, captain. Even you you need a backup." need a backup."

He walked out. He gathered up Banichi and Jago and walked back the way he had come, to the lift, and they rode it down.

"Was it a success, nandi?" Banichi asked him.

"One waits to see, nadiin-ji," he said to them, and felt of the tape in his pocket to be sure it was there, that his muzzy, half-dreaming brain hadn't dreamed this gift.

Folded s.p.a.ce wasn't a place to try any complex a.n.a.lysis. Sabin, having a keen brain, being used to these conditions, surely, even so, observed a certain caution about critical decisions. Maybe that was why she made this one belatedly, to hand him the record.

And the s.h.i.+p went, and s.p.a.ce bent.

Five days out, Sabin said, five muddled days left, in which, without his going up there and confronting the issue, she might have laid it on Jase's desk, and might not.

Now he took himself back to his computer, and back to software, Jase's gift, that could unravel the s.h.i.+p's image-output or plain-print files.

It wasn't image. It was text, a spa.r.s.e, scattershot text that Ramirez had recorded-in Ramirez's unskilled, demonstrably flawed notion of what to record.

There was a small file of personal notes-that, to a casual scan, revealed nothing but coordinates and dates and a handful of cryptic symbols.

Bren's heart sank. What might the man have left out, that might be absolutely critical? What was the second record? A notation of where they'd been? What sites the s.h.i.+p had looked at, at vantages far removed from station?

Granted there was something Ramirez hadn't wanted the Guild to know, the record was disappointingly... useless. Useless without Ramirez's living brain to explain the memories, the intentions, the actions he a.s.sociated with those cryptic references.

But there was also the minute-by-minute telemetry report, the autolog, another kind of text, mostly numerical, and huge. That That was there. Thank G.o.d. Thank Sabin for including it. It was there. Thank G.o.d. Thank Sabin for including it. It was was a fair record, best impartial record they seemed to have of those encounters, right down to the chaff of information from the air quality units, reams of it. a fair record, best impartial record they seemed to have of those encounters, right down to the chaff of information from the air quality units, reams of it.

One could arrange arrange. And filter. So he filtered. He filtered for hours, going through every internal system's chatter, dumping the chaff and lining up the log record for the spa.r.s.e useful facts, all with a brain packed about with cotton wool and unaccustomed to the kinds of data he was trying to sift. He wouldn't attempt to organize a social dinner in his current state-and here he was put to figuring out an alien contact gone wrong, and figuring what in the data had still changed when Ramirez gave a no-output order.

Fact: Phoenix had spent a decade founding a s.p.a.ce station to supply her and spent most of the next couple hundred years poking about in various neighborhoods likely to have supply-supply that came to the s.h.i.+p most conveniently when it came in s.p.a.ce-planetoids, not deep planetary gravity wells that the huge and fragile s.h.i.+p had no means to plumb. That fact, he had heard from Jase over a number of years. that came to the s.h.i.+p most conveniently when it came in s.p.a.ce-planetoids, not deep planetary gravity wells that the huge and fragile s.h.i.+p had no means to plumb. That fact, he had heard from Jase over a number of years.

No gravity wells-being so fragile: so the choices a Mos-pheiran or an ateva would logically think of first were excluded. Phoenix Phoenix had arrived at the atevi world not only with no landing craft, but, embarra.s.sing as it was, and admitted much later, the s.h.i.+p had no atmosphere-qualified pilots who had arrived at the atevi world not only with no landing craft, but, embarra.s.sing as it was, and admitted much later, the s.h.i.+p had no atmosphere-qualified pilots who could could land on a planet and get off again-well, except by brute force and ma.s.sive lift, something that didn't rely on air and weather-and which they couldn't soft-land in the first place. He wasn't, himself, qualified to p.r.o.nounce on the feasibility of just lighting a powerful rocket and aiming it straight up, but such a craft had no ready reusability, nothing to enable mining and agriculture on a regular basis, so, from the s.h.i.+p's point of view, relying on anything in a gravity well was a d.a.m.ned inconvenient way to run a s.p.a.ce program. land on a planet and get off again-well, except by brute force and ma.s.sive lift, something that didn't rely on air and weather-and which they couldn't soft-land in the first place. He wasn't, himself, qualified to p.r.o.nounce on the feasibility of just lighting a powerful rocket and aiming it straight up, but such a craft had no ready reusability, nothing to enable mining and agriculture on a regular basis, so, from the s.h.i.+p's point of view, relying on anything in a gravity well was a d.a.m.ned inconvenient way to run a s.p.a.ce program.

Not to mention the fact that s.h.i.+p-folk floating in orbit didn't in the least know what to do with crops outside a hydroponics tank, and weren't inclined to fall down a gravity well to find out, either.

So scratch landing as an option, and as a basic intent of Ramirez's illicit explorations. Mospheirans had landed on a no-return basis-and taken two hundred years getting back into s.p.a.ce again. No, definitely Phoenix Phoenix had been interested primarily in s.p.a.ce-based resources. Asteroids. Comets. Floating real estate. They'd mine, occasionally, gather, occasionally... that was the way they'd lived. had been interested primarily in s.p.a.ce-based resources. Asteroids. Comets. Floating real estate. They'd mine, occasionally, gather, occasionally... that was the way they'd lived.

The s.h.i.+p had had mining craft once upon a time. Which the s.h.i.+p hadn't had when it showed up at Alpha. They'd lost their resources of that sort. Or maybe the s.h.i.+p usually had them and just hadn't carried the extra ma.s.s on the voyage in question. It was was a lot of ma.s.s. a lot of ma.s.s.

And where would they have left them? At a remote star, when they'd pulled up stakes in a hurry?

At Reunion, when they'd come in and found a station in ruins?

Would they have left them as station relief, an aid to rebuilding? Or had they just not been carrying them?

Thoughts slid willfully sideways, into lunacy. Into human behavior that hadn't, no, been wise at all. They were not figuring out right right behavior, even rational behavior, in tracing the history of station and s.h.i.+p decisions. They were second-guessing a senior captain who'd done some peculiar things wrong, including arriving in atevi s.p.a.ce with no way to refuel. behavior, even rational behavior, in tracing the history of station and s.h.i.+p decisions. They were second-guessing a senior captain who'd done some peculiar things wrong, including arriving in atevi s.p.a.ce with no way to refuel.

d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n d.a.m.n.

Question for Sabin-exactly how much mining the s.h.i.+p had been doing in Ramirez' tenure as senior captain? Did the s.h.i.+p have mining 'bots Did the s.h.i.+p have mining 'bots?

If not, where did you leave them-and when? And why?

Risking stranded themselves? Risking exactly what Phoenix Phoenix had run into in the disaster that had stranded them? Was it at all sensible, not to have had that capability, when they'd learned their historical lessons? had run into in the disaster that had stranded them? Was it at all sensible, not to have had that capability, when they'd learned their historical lessons?

Something didn't add up. Or something added up to mining craft either not loaded for the mission, or deployed and not recovered, or left to aid Reunion in a critical situation.

The Guild held refueling as a weapon, hadn't Jase said?

So was it a Guild decision to keep all possible refueling operations under its own hand?

Worrisome thought.

Had the Guild begun to be suspicious of Ramirez's intentions, his activities when he was out and about? Or suspicious of the s.h.i.+p's independence, from the time they built Reunion Station, centuries ago? They should have foreseen the s.h.i.+p would develop different interests. If they were wise.

Four times d.a.m.n. He called Jase.

"Jase. You have a record record you're working on? Did she give it to you?" you're working on? Did she give it to you?"

"Affirmative."

"No queries into your line of thought-but did the s.h.i.+p ever have mining craft? And where did they go?"

"Weren't loaded," Jase answered. There was a long pause. "Never were. Guild monopoly."

"Fuel at Gamma, possibly?"

"Ported out there. Occasionally there was. Such as there was. If there still is any, I have no knowlege. If the aliens haven't hit it, too, by now."

"But fuel exists-in its raw state-at Gamma. One could mine."

"If we got into that kind of situation. Yes. That's the option. What are you thinking?"

"No comment yet," Bren said. He didn't didn't want to prejudice Jase's thinking, or change its direction. But he was muzzy-headed with folded s.p.a.ce. With things that didn't make sense. With fears, that got down to station's power play, holding that mining machinery to itself. It want to prejudice Jase's thinking, or change its direction. But he was muzzy-headed with folded s.p.a.ce. With things that didn't make sense. With fears, that got down to station's power play, holding that mining machinery to itself. It hadn't hadn't trusted Ramirez, dared one think? "Ramirez's personal notebook. Without useful comment from Sabin. Does it make any sense to you?" trusted Ramirez, dared one think? "Ramirez's personal notebook. Without useful comment from Sabin. Does it make any sense to you?"

"It's all coordinates. Bearings. I think he could have been watching watching something come and go. The points given don't match up with past destinations that I know about. We didn't ever go to these points. He only wrote them down, outside the log. There's absolutely nothing else I can get out of the notes." something come and go. The points given don't match up with past destinations that I know about. We didn't ever go to these points. He only wrote them down, outside the log. There's absolutely nothing else I can get out of the notes."

Scary implications. Spying on the aliens. Wonderful. Visitations that frequent, and station not aware of them? "Want to come down for lunch? I swear social only. No contamination."

"Can't," Jase said. "Wish I could. Sabin's set me an administrative job. Have to. You take care down there, Bren."

"No question."

Conversation ended disappointingly, a conversation kept entirely in s.h.i.+p-speak, nothing to worry Sabin or make her question what the former paidhiin had been up to-nothing to make Sabin doubt them at a critical moment yet to come-the way the Guild might have doubted Ramirez. Everything was too fragile. Everything depended on Sabin's judgement of them. And Jase hadn't risked her opinion by coming down to consult.

Their lives all depended on that brittle thread of Sabin's judgement. And the solution to Ramirez's actions relied on brains that couldn't work at maximum efficiency. So, just to help out, Sabin had loaded Jase with something extra to do. Maybe necessary, maybe not. He was annoyed. Frustrated. But he didn't want to push Sabin further, not yet.

Conclude one thing for a fact. Ramirez hadn't had mining capability on the critical run into trouble. He wasn't likely to get it from a station that didn't trust him. And he hadn't been after material gain at that star-not immediately. Information. Data. Scouting things out. Maybe for future mining, if he could beg, borrow or steal a craft. Maybe not. But by what Jase said, he'd been nosing about where he was, possibly watching some sort of activity-without, he thought, getting involved, without going to those destinations.

Wasn't ready yet. Was still collecting data. Still training Taylor's Children to be his go-betweens, his eyes and ears for another world.

But the list in the notes, if it was observation of alien craft-was that observation a notation kept aside even from the auto-log? Difficult, one would think.

Log recorded the last arrival at star 2095 on chart, G4, small planets. A great deal of data on all the planets. But the second, temperate planet... temperate temperate planet... had atmosphere. Liquid water. Abundant water. Moderate vulcanism. A single, modest moon-old enough, perhaps, to have swept up all its compet.i.tors. A human's natural interest turned to that world-ignorant as his interest might be. planet... had atmosphere. Liquid water. Abundant water. Moderate vulcanism. A single, modest moon-old enough, perhaps, to have swept up all its compet.i.tors. A human's natural interest turned to that world-ignorant as his interest might be.

Resources useless to the Guild, again, at the inaccessible bottom of a gravity well. Guild Guild interest might well be piqued by the data, far more abundant, on the debris in the outer system. Ices. Iron. Nickle. A radiation-hot fourth planet gravita-tionally locked with an overlarge satellite and surrounded by an unstable ring-that was no place a sensible operation would like to conduct business. That world's well held a rich debris cloud; but from the Guild's point of view, not because of that h.e.l.lish place, but because of that inconveniently attractive number two planet, the whole solar system was less attractive to them-a temptation all of history indicated the Guild wanted to avoid like the plague. Both a rich h.e.l.l to mine, and a quasi-paradise sitting within potential rebels' reach. interest might well be piqued by the data, far more abundant, on the debris in the outer system. Ices. Iron. Nickle. A radiation-hot fourth planet gravita-tionally locked with an overlarge satellite and surrounded by an unstable ring-that was no place a sensible operation would like to conduct business. That world's well held a rich debris cloud; but from the Guild's point of view, not because of that h.e.l.lish place, but because of that inconveniently attractive number two planet, the whole solar system was less attractive to them-a temptation all of history indicated the Guild wanted to avoid like the plague. Both a rich h.e.l.l to mine, and a quasi-paradise sitting within potential rebels' reach.

The Guild had had that situation once, at Alpha. And colonists and workers there had staged a rebellion that worked only because the green world allowed a soft landing. Consequently that gravity well wouldn't give up a single craft, not for centuries-placing all local resources offlimits for a Guild that had forgotten atmospheric flight-so the Guild could whistle for obedience: no one had had to listen, and finally the station had folded, oh, for a couple of centuries.

Interesting, that beautiful green world. Decided temptation, as a Mospheiran saw matters. Temptation.for an atevi ruler. Temptation for anybody interested in population growth- Even for a Guild captain who should be doing his Guild-bound duty and avoiding another planet-based colonization? for a Guild captain who should be doing his Guild-bound duty and avoiding another planet-based colonization?

A captain with questionable loyalty to the Guild-a captain legally obliged to convey his log back to close Guild scrutiny... and who might not want to tell them everything.