Jack McDevitt - SEEKER

I invited Alex to punch the button to activate the system, but he declined. “You’ve done all the brute work in this operation so far, Chase,” he said. “You do it.”

So I did. Lamps flashed, and Belle showed up wearing khakis and a safari hat.

“Search is under way,” she said.

I tied the Martin into the navigational display so we could watch. Alex stayed awhile, got bored, went back to the common room.

During the next few hours, our long-range scan spotted a gas giant ten AUs out from the sun, and another at fourteen. That was it for the day. Alex was visibly disappointed, but I reminded him there’s a lot of space in a solar system and you can’t expect to find everything right away.

I spent most of that first day on the bridge, watching the sun grow as we drew closer.

Alex drifted between his quarters and the common room, mostly leafing through inventories of antiquities available on the market. After dinner, he joined me up front, as if that would prompt Belle to a greater sense of urgency.

“Belle,” he said, “can’t we see anything yet?”

“It’s too soon, Alex.”

“How much time do we need to spot a planet?”

“Maybe another day or so.”

He looked at me. “I don’t suppose we’ve found anything with the Martin?”

“No,” I said. “When we do, you’ll be first to know.”

“I can’t believe it takes the Survey ships this long to figure out what’s in a planetary system.”

“We’re not really equipped to do a planetary search,” I said. “Our gear is designed to find small targets that reflect a lot of light. Derelicts or docking stations or whatever.

Long-range scan is okay, but we would have been better off with something more specialized.”

“Why didn’t you get something more specialized for this part of the work? I mean, we have the Martin to hunt for the Seeker. Why not get something that finds worlds?”

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “I was thinking about the derelict, and I guess I never gave much consideration to trying to map a solar system.”

“Well,” Alex said, “no harm done, I guess. Whatever’s out here, we’ll find.” He looked dispirited, and it seemed to be more than simply having to wait around.

“You all right?” I asked.

“I’m fine.” He looked away from me.

“Something’s bothering you.”

“No,” he said. “Not really.”

He’d expected we were going to ride in and, within the first few minutes, spot a classK, a world with liquid water and gravity levels that people would find comfortable.

When it didn’t happen, he began to suspect it wasn’t going to be there.

We were not really looking for an ancient wreck. He wanted Margolia.

“You don’t find these things right away, Alex,” I said. “Have a little patience.”

He sighed. “Chances are, if there were a class-K world in the biozone, we’d have seen it by now, right?”

I couldn’t lie to him. “Probably. But let’s just relax.”

He shrugged. “I’m always relaxed,” he said. “They don’t make them any more relaxed than I am.”

On the fourth day insystem, Belle reported another hit. “It’s a terrestrial,” she said.

“We didn’t see it earlier because it was on the other side of the sun.”

“Where’s it located?” asked Alex.

“In the biozone.”

Bingo. He jumped out of his chair and squeezed my arm. “Let’s hope.” He peered out the viewport. “Is it visible?”

Belle pointed out a dim star.

“Let’s go take a look.”

Belle acknowledged, and we changed course. We’d need another ten hours or so to recharge, after which we could jump in close.

“It has an atmosphere,” she said. “Equatorial diameter thirteen thousand kilometers.

Distance from the sun one hundred forty-two million.”

“Beautiful,” said Alex. “It’s another Rimway.”

“No evidence of a satellite.”

“What about radio transmissions?” he asked. “Are we picking up anything?”

“Negative radio,” said Belle. “But it’s quite far.”

Nothing was going to dim his mood. “It’s asking too much to expect them to be alive after all this time.”

I agreed with that. “Don’t expect a miracle,” I said. I was getting a bad feeling.

“I am able to detect the presence of oceans.”

“Good!” Alex leaned forward like a racing hound.

“I have a question,” I said.

“Fire away.”

“If that’s really Margolia, why didn’t the Wescotts say something? They were here what, in 1386? Maybe ’87? The proposals would have been destroyed by 1390 at the latest. But as late as 1395 they were still keeping quiet.”

“There would have been some suspicions,” he said.

“So what? They’d have to take the chance and come forward at some point.”

He shook his head. “Maybe they were just giving it more time.”

“Alex,” I said, “don’t get your hopes up.”

It wasn’t like him to get carried away like that. But the potential was so enormous, he simply couldn’t contain himself. And I’m not talking about money. Beneath the hardbitten profit-and-loss attitude, Alex was a romantic. And this was the ultimate romantic possibility.

We were still feeling the glow when, a few hours later, Belle said, quietly, “Looks like bad news.”

A pall fell over the bridge. “What is it, Belle?” I asked.

“The world is not suitable for settlement. Probably not even for human life.”

Alex made a sound deep in his throat. “I thought you said it was in the biozone, Belle?” he said.

“It’s moving away from the sun.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Alex.

“It’s in a highly elliptical orbit. I can’t give you the exact numbers yet, but I estimate it goes out as far as four hundred million kilometers.”

“That would make for a cold winter,” I said.

“And it approaches to within forty million. There’s a possible error of ten percent, but at those ranges it wouldn’t matter.”

“I guess not,” said Alex.

“When it reaches perihelion, the planet’s equatorial regions will get fourteen times more sunlight per square centimeter than Rimway does.”

“What happens to the oceans when it gets well out in its orbit?”

“Not enough data yet.”

The world was wrapped in white cumulus. The oceans covered more than half the globe. And the landmasses were green.

“Axial inclination,” said Belle, “ten degrees.”

She confirmed that there was no moon.

“It must boil over at forty million klicks,” said Alex.

“As it approaches perihelion, Alex, it accelerates. It would be moving very swiftly during the period when it is receiving maximum radiation.”

“Bat out of hell,” Alex said.

“Oh, yes. Most decidedly. When it is farthest away, it moves much more slowly. This world spends most of its time in deep winter.”

“But wouldn’t the oceans dry up and disappear, Belle?” he asked. “With this kind of orbit?”

“I don’t have relevant data,” she said. “I can tell you, however, that their presence provides some protection from the heat during the summer.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“When the world passes close to the sun, there’s substantial evaporation. Sea level may drop by thirty meters during the process. The vapor fills the skies with what you’re looking at now: optically opaque thunderstorm clouds, which would block much of the incoming radiation.”

The sensors were able to penetrate the thick atmosphere, and we got pictures. River valleys. Vast gorges. And snowcapped mountains.

“I suspect the oceans are losing water,” I said. “A few million years of this, and they’ll probably be gone.”