Джек Макдевитт - A Voice in the Night

“Well,” said Dimonides, “I can’t really allow a trouble-maker to simply run loose. I could put you in prison, I suppose.”

Jesus showed no reaction.

“You wouldn’t like that. Better might be exile. Get you out of here, so you can’t stir up problems. The place is already a cauldron.” He leaned forward and braced his chin on his hand. “How would you feel about the mines? In northern Thrace? The weather’s quite nice this time of year. No? Well, let me see what else I have available.”

Mary was waiting for him, holding a lamp. She threw herself into his arms. “I was so frightened,” she said. “All those things you were saying that were going to happen. You had us all terrified!” She was giddy.

“Tell me,” he said, “are you surprised there are now Greeks occupying the area?”

“I hadn’t noticed. Is that right?”

“But you remember the Romans?”

“Of course. Why do you say it that way? As if they’re gone?”

“They are.”

“Are you serious?”

“Am I not always?”

“No, my Lord, you are not.”

“It’s probably best if we keep it that way.” The air was cool and sweet. “He left your memory intact. Good.”

She held onto him as if fearful the mob would come again. “Don’t misunderstand me,” she said. “I’m so grateful things turned out the way they have. I don’t know how to react. But how does it happen you were so wrong about this night? You’ve always been right about everything else.”

He smiled. “It pays to have friends in high places.”

Her eyes were beautiful in the lamplight. “So what happens now?”

“I’m being exiled.”

“That’s an improvement over what we were expecting. Where to?”

“Alexandria.”

“Egypt?”

“Yes.” Her hand curled into his. “They want me somewhere out of the way. So I can do no damage.”

“Egypt’s as out of the way as any.”

“Mary, they need a librarian.”

“You? Working in a library?”

“I might get a chance to do a little writing.”

She uncovered a lamp. “Some philosophy?” she asked.

“Maybe that, too.”

“That too? What else?”

“I’d like to try my hand at theater.”

“I can’t imagine you doing a tragedy.”

“Nor can I. I was thinking maybe comedy. I like comedy.” He took the lamp from her. Held it high to illuminate the path. And thought how much better it was than a cross.

For Priscilla Hutchins, it was the experience she’d always dreamed of: her qualification flight, a mission that would take her to seven planetary systems, and ultimately to her pilot’s license.

The most exciting destination, she thought, would be Fomalhaut, a white main sequence dwarf, about twice the size of Earth’s sun, and sixteen times brighter. But that wasn’t what had captured her imagination. Fomalhaut’s system contained the first extrasolar planet actually seen through a telescope. It was a giant world, three times the size of Jupiter. But the real news came when we’d actually arrived in the system: the largest satellite in its family of moons was home to one of the alien constructs that eventually became known as the Great Monuments. Put in place by an unknown entity thousands of years ago. By the time of her qualification flight, a total of eleven had been discovered, scattered around the Orion Arm. They are magnificent sculptures, set on moons and asteroids and small planets, and occasionally simply placed in their own orbits. The first was discovered long before we had achieved interstellar flight. On Iapetus. It depicts a lizard-like female creature believed to be a self-portrait of the sculptor. And it was a major factor in restarting a long-stalled space program.

Since she’d been a little girl, Hutch had wanted to see the Iapetus monument, but she’d had to settle for turning out the lights in her living room and looking up at a virtual representation. She’d felt a kinship with the alien creature gazing placidly across that destitute landscape at the ringed planet, which was permanently frozen on the horizon. Never rising, never setting. Priscilla had sat on her sofa sipping orange juice. She didn’t want to pretend to be at the site. She wanted to be there. To touch the stone image. To trace with her fingers the alien characters cut into its base.

No one had ever deciphered their meaning.

The monument at Fomalhaut was an abstract. A ring with an angled cross bar extending past the sides, mounted on a base. As always, the base had an inscription in unfamiliar characters.

It was made of rock extracted at the site, but the monument possessed an ethereal strain, heightened by multiple sources of moonlight, as if its natural habitat included trees, water, and the sounds of insects.

But before Hutch and the Copperhead could get to it, there’d be a routine stop at Groombridge 1618 to drop off supplies and passengers. Her parents had been unhappy when she’d announced her intention to pilot interstellars. Even her father, who’d arranged for her to touch the sky, had urged her to find, as he put it, a more rational life. She’d been disappointed in him, and it had caused a temporary split between them. In the end, he’d conceded, and he and Mom had thrown an unforgettable party for her. Lou Cunningham, the boyfriend of the moment, had attended, and at the end of the evening, as they stood outside on the lawn of the family house, he’d asked her not to go, but instead to be his wife. She liked Lou, even though the long-term chemistry wasn’t there.

“I love you, Hutch,” he’d said. “Will you marry me?” He’d stared at her, and she’d watched the dismay fill his expression as he read her answer in her eyes. And the frustration. She’d thought how this might be one of those decisions she’d revisit over the years, and eventually come to regret.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Jake. It brought her back to the bridge of the Copperhead. She was in the pilot’s seat. The scopes were picking up only the gray mist that filled the transdimensional space that allowed vehicles to move among the stars.

“Nothing,” she said.

Jake Loomis let her see his disapproval. “All right, Hutch. Six minutes to jump.” He was sliding into the seat beside her.

“Okay.”

“Best keep focused when stuff is happening.”

“I’m focused,” she said.

“Benny’s good.” The AI. “But don’t assume nothing will ever break down. If something goes wrong out here, it tends to happen very quickly.”

“Okay, Jake.”

He waited. Was he expecting her to say more? Then it came to her. The passengers. She touched the allcom pad, trying to look as if she’d been about to do that anyhow. “Professor Eddington,” she said, “Dr. Andrews, Isaika, we’ll be transiting back into normal space in five minutes. If you need to do anything, this would be a good time. Then belt down.”

She glanced over at Jake. He pretended to be looking at the fuel gauge. “Benny,” she said, “start engines.”

Jake was a true believer. She suspected he was one of those guys who’d never walk away from the interstellars. He was a big man, with dark skin and black hair and an easy-come easy-go attitude. His eyes had a kind of whimsical look, implying that he did not take her seriously. Did not really trust her. “Benny can get you through most missions,” he told her, “but if a problem develops you need to be ready.” There was something in the way he stressed the last word that underscored his doubts about her.