Jack McDevitt - SEEKER

“Not exactly an intersection,” said Alex.

We will interrupt the ideological nonsense, whether it be political, religious, or social, that flows from generation to generation. We will begin anew, in a new place, with a new approach. We will learn from history, and we will discard the doctrines that have kept the human race anchored firmly to a cacophony of discord and confusion. We have always known the potential for greatness, because we have seen what can be done when individuals throw off the shackles of conformity. Now we will demonstrate what can happen when an entire society prizes, above all else, free minds.

- Harry Williams,

Remarks at the Freedom Day Celebration in Berlin, March 3, 2684 C.E.

We were still orbiting the moon when Belle reported that she’d located the Bremerhaven. “The final piece,” I said.

“We’ll see.”

It was smaller, leaner, and longer than the Seeker. No blown engines this time. No sign of damage except dents where it had probably been struck by drifting rock and ice. It carried the same flag, and a more fluid style of lettering on the hull.

We saw no signs of human remains inside. There were some pieces that would have looked good on Rainbow’s inventory, but Alex decided, without explaining why, that we would take nothing from the Bremerhaven. “Leave it for Windy,” he said.

On the bridge, we opened the panels and looked at disconnected power lines. And at empty spaces once occupied by control boxes. Alex clomped around in his magnetic boots and poked his lamp into every open space. “Chase,” he said at last, “answer a question for me. After they transplanted the black boxes to the Seeker, would this thing have been capable of going anywhere? Under its own power?”

“I doubt it.”

“But you’re not sure.”

“I’m not familiar enough with the ship. It’s possible, for example, there’s an auxiliary control center elsewhere on board.”

“All right,” he said. “Is it possible for us to make a determination?”

I remembered a set of Bremerhaven power relays in the Seeker ’s engine room. “Let’s go look at the drive units,” I said.

I’ve remarked elsewhere I don’t know much about third-millennium technology. But you don’t have to if you’re just looking to see whether parts are missing and power cables are disconnected. I only needed a quick glance to know that the Bremerhaven wouldn’t have gone anywhere on its own.

We removed nothing. Mostly we just made a visual record. Then we went back aboard the Belle-Marie, and poured ourselves some coffee.

Alex was adrift somewhere.

“What?” I asked, finally.

He took a long pull at his coffee. “I think the jungle world is Margolia.”

“Even though the orbits didn’t match up?”

“Yes. I don’t know how, or why, but they’re buried on that world somewhere.”

There was no indication there had ever been a settlement. But of course, give it a few thousand years, and the heavy vegetation we were looking at would have buried Andiquar. We took the launch down and padded around a bit on the surface, looking for evidence. But there was nothing. Confirmation one way or the other would take specialized equipment.

“Chase?”

“Yes, Belle?” I was napping on the bridge while Alex looked over images from the surface.

“I’ve been examining the orbit of the Bremerhaven.”

“And-?”

“On March 3, 2745, it was thirty million kilometers away.”

“From this world?” asked Alex.

“Yes.”

We looked at each other. “How do we explain that?”

“For now,” he said, “let’s just call it an anomaly.”

In the midst of celebration are we overtaken by calamity.

- Kory Tyler,

Musings, 1312 We slipped back into our home system at the end of a flight that people would probably be talking about a thousand years later. We’d found our Atlantis, but it had been a disappointment on a scale so vast that it weighed down every other consideration. Had we guaranteed ourselves a great bottom line? Absolutely. Were we going to be celebrities? I pictured myself being interviewed on every show from Round Table to Jennifer in the Morning. Money would pour in. And I was already thinking about a book. Still, we had hoped for an Atlantis that would be, despite all odds, up and running. Or at least, visible.

“What will you call it?” asked Alex, referring to the book.

“Last Mission,” I said.

He pressed his fingers against his temple and adopted the tone he might have used with a child. “I hope you’re not suggesting you’re going to retire. And anyhow, titles shouldn’t be about you.”

“It’s not about me. I’ve no intention of retiring, Alex. It’ll be about the Seeker. Trying to go for help, having a load of children on board, and the engines go down. No rescue possible within light-years. Everybody on board dies, and Margolia loses its only hope. It’s a tragic story.”

“Yes,” he said. “It sounds like a downer. I think you need some daylight in there somewhere.” He was sitting in the common room, in front of a chess problem to which he paid no attention. When I asked how he planned to announce the discovery, he looked uncertain. “I haven’t decided,” he said. “What do you think?”

“We could call a press conference, jointly with Windy.”

He picked up the black king, studied it, and put it back. “I’m not anxious to do that. I don’t want to stir up Kolchevsky and the other morons. Why don’t we try to keep a low profile for now, and move our stuff as quietly as we can?”

“You know that’s not going to work, Alex. Once it gets out that we found Margolia, every journalist in the world is going to be beating down our door. We need to know what we’re going to say to them.”

We docked, made entry, and went in through the zero-gee deck because we had three containers filled with artifacts.

As we came out into the main concourse, a tall, young man was waiting for us.

“Charlie Everson,” he said. “How was the trip, Mr. Benedict?”

“Okay.” Alex looked in my direction. Did I recognize him? I’d never seen him before.

He had black hair and a conservative bearing, but something about him reminded me of one of those guys who are always trying to impress you with their positions in the world.

“Windy sent me,” he said. “She’s anxious to know how things went.”

“Tell her,” said Alex, “it was a productive operation. We’ll get over to see her first thing tomorrow.”

“Good.” He seemed pleased. “She’ll be anxious to hear the details.” I expected him to press us, to ask whether we’d found what we were looking for, but he shoved his hands into his pockets and said she’d been talking about throwing a dinner in our honor. “By the way,” he added, “we’ve arranged your passage on the shuttle.” He had large brown eyes, and they focused on the containers. “Compliments of Survey.”

“Well, that’s good of you,” said Alex. “Thanks.”

“It’s our pleasure. Are those artifacts in the cases?”

“Yes,” Alex said.

“Wonderful.” He smiled again. Looked at me and looked away. This was a guy on the shy side, I decided. Someone who rarely had a good time. “Congratulations, Mr.

Benedict.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let Windy know. And I’ll tell her to expect you tomorrow.” We all shook hands.

“It was good to meet you both.” He started away, paused, and turned back.

“Reservations are in your name, Mr. Benedict. The shuttle leaves at six.”

Alex thanked him again, and he went on his way. Had other business to take care of, he said.