Jack McDevitt - The Devil's Eye

seventeen years ago. As the good Professor Saberna would put it, do the math." It didn't take a genius. "But it can't be the same thing happening in both places," I said. "They're too far apart." "I'll tell you something else: The Lantner and the Origon didn't disappear. At least not in the way we've been led to believe." "Explain." "The ship that was sent to look around found something other than what was reported. That's why it blew up a couple of days later. So nobody would be in a position to contradict the official story. It's why the captain who carried Vicki out there disappeared." "They saw something?" "Yes. The second vehicle would have been manned by Nicorps people. It was a cleanup operation. They got rid of whatever was left." "So what actually happened? Was it the Mutes?" "I doubt it. But the answer is out at the asteroid."

The train pulled into Marinopolis. We grabbed our luggage and headed for the doors. I was still not happy as we climbed down onto the platform. "Don't be angry," he said. "You know we have to do it this way." I noticed a uniformed police officer watching us. Looking down at a notebook. He started in our direction. Alex saw him, too. "Split," he said. He grabbed his bag, gave me a shove, and hurried off in the opposite direction. The officer began talking into his link and took after Alex.

I waved down a taxi and went for a ride. I didn't have a destination. "Just take me to the spaceport," I told it. Then I tried to reach Alex on his link. An unfamiliar voice answered: "Ms. Kolpath, is that you?" Damn. They had him.

"Please answer. We're not trying to hurt anybody. This is the police."

I broke the circuit and called Peifer. "Rob, they took Alex."

"Damn."

"Can you do a story? Put some pressure on Wexler?"

"Sure. Give me the details. What's going on?"

"I don't know."

"That's not easy to write."

"I know."

"Okay. Look, I'll check the police reports. We should be able to find out what's happening with him, anyhow."

"Maybe." I didn't know where to go from there. "Rob, I need to get out to the asteroid. Can you make me part of a news team or something? And we both go? If we did that, I could probably get through. And you might get your story."

"But why, Chase? We keep going around in a circle. Did you guys find evidence of the rift?"

"There's no rift, Rob. At least, I don't think there is."

"What, then?"

"I don't know. Alex thought we'd find out if we could get to the asteroid."

"Great."

"So can you help, Rob?"

"Let me see what I can do. I'll get back to you."

I moved into a hotel in the center of the city. And I sat in it, watching newscasts, watching talk shows, and I saw nothing about Alex. Heard no mention of him. There were reports, though, of another

encounter with the Mutes. The administration announced that plans were going ahead to increase "substantially" the size of the fleet. And work had begun on another group of shelters. Administration officials appeared everywhere and were reassuring. "We're protected by a cosmic ocean," one of them said. "The Mutes are coming out here because they think we're an easy target. We're going to fix that." "Then why," asked an interviewer, "do we need all those shelters?" "We're sending a message," he said. "If they come here, we'll stand our ground and go to all-out war if need be. Once they see that, once they see we aren't going to just sit here and let them run us off, we're confident they'll understand that this Administrator is not going to tolerate recurring attacks."

I don't usually drink alone, but I had a couple that night, in my room, while I wondered what was happening to Alex, where he was, whether they were trying to press him to find out where I was. Eventually Peifer called. "Sorry, kid," he said. "But it's no go." "Which part of it?"

"All of it. When I told Howie-my editor-he ran it past the fifth floor. That's our senior people. I'm not sure what's going on, but somebody up there vetoed it. They told Howie we weren't to touch any part of the story. The official line is that it's pointless, that nobody knows anything, and to just let it go away."

"Rob- "

"Chase, if you can come up with something solid, I'll do something with it. But I can't hang everything out there when we don't even know what it's about."

"Okay."

"Also, I checked on Alex."

"And- ?"

"The police claim they released him an hour after they picked him up. They're saying it was a case of mistaken identity."

"Rob, he'd have called me."

"And he hasn't?"

"Not a peep."

"Well, maybe he-"

"What?" "All right, look: I'll keep checking. If you hear from him, let me know." He looked tired. "Do you need a place to stay? We've got a spare room."

"No. Thanks."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Get your story, I guess."

"What do you mean? How are you going to do that?"

"I'm going to the asteroid. And find out what this is about."

"Yeah, good. How are you going to manage it? Grab a taxi?"

Maybe Peifer had something. My father always said, if you're serious about getting somewhere, take a taxi. There was, of course, no way I could ride a taxi to a destination thirty-three light-years out. But I might be able to use one to get to the space station. Okay. Cabs will take you up to a couple of kilometers, but they aren't designed for high-altitude flights, let alone one that that would run out of the atmosphere altogether. But it was an option. I'd have to wait until the sun went down. Most people would think that, if you went up in the daytime, up to orbital altitudes, you'd freeze. But in fact, the sun would turn the taxi into an oven. So I waited until late afternoon. Then I went over to Central Mall and grabbed a sandwich and a fruit drink. And some dessert. Wasn't sure when I'd eat again. Afterward, I stopped by a general supply shop and got some tape. I went shopping for a plastene jacket and settled on one that looked almost airtight. It wasn't something I'd want to wear in public, particularly, garish green with a salacious dragon on the back. But it was exactly what I needed. Next stop was home furnishings. I browsed among the window curtains and bought a tieback, a soft strip of blue-green fabric that would have been perfect for my living room. I carried the jacket and the tape and the tieback to the roof and picked out my cab, a late-model Karaka that looked sturdy and well maintained. It waited patiently for me, and I climbed in. "Taxi," I said, "let's go fill up. I'm going to ask you to take me to Quahalla. And bring me back." Quahalla was halfway across the continent. "I have adequate fuel, ma'am," she said. "I get nervous about long trips. Humor me. Let's fill up anyhow. I'll be much more comfortable."

"As you wish, ma'am."

It takes next to no fuel to keep the antigrav unit running. The jets, of course, were another matter. So the plan was to leave them off. What I needed was to get to the right altitude and stay there. I wouldn't be able to go anywhere once I'd arrived. But that was okay.

"Where in Quahalla do you want to go?"

"I'm still deciding. I have several errands to run." "Very good." We pulled into a depot and filled the tank. The antigrav unit and the jets used the same fuel. I'd have liked to fill two or three extra tanks and put them in the cab, but I'd have no way of getting the fuel into the system. When we'd finished, we rode over to Kreitzel's Sea Sports and picked up an oxygen tank and a mask. Next I needed two blankets. When everything was on board, I asked the AI whether the taxi was safe at higher altitudes. "Absolutely," she answered. "No leaks?"