Jack McDevitt - Coming Home

“You find anything significant?”

“He had a passion for the Golden Age. But you already knew that. He spent most of his life at archeological sites that were connected with the early years of space exploration. He did some work at the NASA launch area in what used to be Florida. It’s almost all underwater now, not just the museum. But that didn’t stop him.”

“Did he find anything?”

“Nothing of any value. Whatever was left had been ruined by the ocean. He was seriously angry that the NASA people didn’t make a more serious effort to salvage things. Of course, to them, most of the stuff they left was junk. They’d have seen no value in, say, the computers that were used during the first Moon flight.”

Something like that, today, would have been worth a small fortune. Even if it weren’t one of the actual computers. Just one that was the same type . “Pity,” I said. “But that’s why artifacts command a price. If everybody held on to everything, they wouldn’t be worth much.”

“That’s a point, Chase.”

“So what else did Baylee do?”

“He was central to some of the recovery work in Washington.”

“That was the United States capital, right?”

“Yes. During the second and third millennia. He did some of the excavations at the Smithsonian. And was part of a team that rebuilt the White House along the banks of Lake Washington. And before you ask, that was where the executive offices were.”

“I’m impressed.”

“He was still young then. Pretty much just along for the ride. He also spent a year on Mars at Broomar. The first colony. And he did some work at the NASA site in Texas.”

“Texas was part of the United States originally, too, if I recall?”

“Yes.”

“He did pretty well.”

“He also helped find the submarine they used on Europa.”

“ That was the big one. First discovery of extraterrestrial life.”

“Very good. You did pay some attention back in high school.”

“Only when it was raining.”

“He’s got one other major credit. He led the mission that found the Ayaka .”

“Which was?”

“A twenty-first-century automated ship that got lost while surveying Saturn. It stayed lost for nine thousand years. Until Baylee found it.”

“Where was it?”

“Still orbiting Saturn. It became part of the rings. Baylee thought that no serious effort was ever made to recover it. In fact, it had been completely forgotten until he came across an old record.”

“Makes you wonder what else is out there.”

Alex nodded. “Incidentally, on another subject, some of the Capella families are banding together. They want to stop any effort to shut down the drive unit. They don’t want the government to take any action that would put the passengers and crew at risk.”

“I can understand that,” I said. “JoAnn’s afraid that what she wants to do could sink them permanently.”

“What do you think about it? If it were your call, Chase, would you take the chance? Try to shut it down?”

“What are the odds again?”

“Right now they’re saying that the chances for success are around ninety percent.”

“That it will succeed? Or that it won’t kill everybody?”

“That it won’t kill everybody.”

Lord. “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think I’d try it.”

They found Kolchevsky on the fourth day. The body was on a hiking trail, three-quarters of the way up the north side of Mt. Barrow. He’d apparently suffered a heart attack and fallen into some bushes, which had concealed the body from climbers. He hadn’t used his link to call for help, so it seemed likely that the end had come swiftly. “What we do not understand,” said Fenn, who came by the country house that afternoon, “was what he was doing up there. He had a history of heart problems, and he’d been warned about causing undue strain. The last thing in the world his doctors wanted him to do was go mountain climbing. And worse, that he would do it alone.”

“Why didn’t he have it replaced?” I asked.

“His doctors said he was in denial. Whatever, he refused treatment.”

Alex closed his eyes for a moment. “Have you ever been on Mt. Barrow, Chase?”

I shook my head.

“Me, neither.” He turned back to Fenn. “Is there a restaurant or a tourist area or something up there? On the mountain?”

“No. Not on the mountain. The closest one is down at ground level. Where his skimmer was parked.”

“And he was on foot?”

“That’s correct.”

“That suggests he wasn’t really trying to get somewhere. He was just out walking.” He shrugged. “Or hiking.”

Fenn frowned. “How do you know he wasn’t trying to get somewhere?”

“Why walk? Especially with a health problem. Why not go in by air? Use the skimmer?”

“No.” Fenn shook his head. “You weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t familiar with the area, were you?”

“You mean there’s no place to set down?”

“Not unless you want to land in a tree.”

Alex looked puzzled. A lovely blue arglet landed at one of the windows and peered in at us. “Were you able to get anything from his AI, Fenn?”

“Just that when he left the house, he said he would be a while. Nothing more.”

“I don’t guess he’s ever done any archeological work on the mountain?”

“None that there’s any record for.”

“Okay. What was the restaurant where he parked?”

“Bartlett’s.”

“Did he eat there?”

“Yes. At about one. Nobody saw him after he left.”

“Fenn,” I asked, “why do you care about this? It’s not a police matter anymore, is it?”

“No.” He delivered that broad smile. “Call it professional curiosity. I can’t believe a guy who’s been warned about a weak heart has a hefty lunch. And then goes mountain climbing. He did eat pretty well, by the way. Meat loaf and mashed potatoes.”

“I don’t guess you know,” Alex said, “if he reached wherever it was he was going?”

“No. We don’t know whether he was going up or coming back down when he had the attack. But he got pretty high in any case. He was only a couple of hundred meters from the top when it hit.”

“Well, Fenn,” said Alex, “I wish we could help. I never had much in the way of personal dealings with him, except when he was lecturing me. So I can’t really contribute anything.”

“All right, guys, thanks.” The inspector got up. “If you think of anything, give me a call. Okay?”

He left. And I knew what would be coming next. “Want to go for a ride?” Alex asked.

“Don’t tell me. We’re going for an uphill walk.”

“I thought you might enjoy lunch at Bartlett’s.”

We checked the news reports first, which showed us where the body had been found. Then we headed out. Alex has a philosophy that you cannot work effectively on an empty stomach.

The restaurant was located where Route 11 plunges into the mountain chain. It was still a bit early when we got there, so there was plenty of room for the skimmer in the parking area. We touched down, went inside, and ordered. It was an unusually warm day for midwinter. The sky was clear, and Lake Accord had more than a few boats. While we waited for the food to appear, I offered my theory. “Kolchevsky was a crank. You know that as well as I do. I’d bet the reason he went up the mountain was precisely because the doctors told him not to do it. I had an uncle like that. He’d get the same kind of directions, and it always set him off. I was about twelve when he was telling my folks about how he was supposed to keep calm and not get excited and he kept going, his voice rising, getting seriously enraged that anybody would tell him how to live his life.”