Jack McDevitt - Firebird

The host, Charles Koeffler, managed to look disconcerted. “What you're saying, Deryk, is that he'll do anything for money. Is that your position?”

I shut the thing off before Colter could answer. And I came down on the pad a bit harder than I might have. The AI quietly pointed out that he'd warned me several times about listening to talk shows while I was running the skimmer.

I grumbled something, climbed out, and walked toward the house, not sure whether I was more annoyed with Colter or with the AI. Jacob opened the door for me and said hello. I said hello back, went inside, took off my jacket, dropped my notebook on my desk, and wondered why I was living in a place with such a cold climate.

I was still getting settled when Alex came downstairs. He was smiling, looking as if he'd just left a party. “Welcome home, beautiful,” he said. “This place feels empty without you.”

I was in no mood for banter. “Alex, I don't know why you keep doing this. These guys are ripping us apart.”

“You mean Garland?”

“No. Has he been torching us, too? I was talking about Colter-”

“Yeah. Well, we're a pretty good target at the moment. But they're playing right into our hands. Giving us more traction. The interest in the Robin artifacts is going through the roof. By the way, we'll be running the auction in a couple of days.”

“What about your reputation?”

“I'll be fine. Chase, if you do anything creative, anything at all, you have to learn to live with critics. The charges aren't true. All I've done is bring to public attention the fact that Robin had some unusual preoccupations. And I reminded them that he'd disappeared. Those guys, Garland and Colter and the rest, this is their only chance to get out in front of an audience. Relax.”

“I don't think we should let them get away with it.”

“I'm not much interested in throwing mud. Our clients trust us. That's what's important.”

“That's not the only thing that's important.”

He grinned. “I'm glad to have you looking out for me.”

“I don't like being insulted by those idiots.”

“I know. Well, for what it's worth, I've arranged to be on Kile's show tonight.” He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “Chase, not to change the subject or anything, but did you know that, the night of Robin's disappearance, the investigators were able to determine that only three skimmers left Virginia Island?”

“I hadn't heard that. But one would have been enough to carry him off. I assume they checked them out?”

“One was Cermak. The other two were locals, and the police were convinced neither could have been involved in his disappearance.”

“I can't see how they could make that determination.”

“From tracker readings. They wouldn't be definite, but they'd be close enough.”

“Did you pass it on to Ramsay?”

“I've been saving it. I'll use it this evening on the show.” He went into lecture mode: “Always have something new when you go on one of these things. Throws the critics off stride.” He eased himself down onto the love seat. “How was the trip?”

“I'm pretty sure Robin isn't an alien.”

“Sorry to hear it. I saw what you gave Ramsay. It was pretty good.”

“I thought about telling him how people used to see Robin walking the streets whenever the moon was full, but I thought I'd better let it go.”

“You get anything more on the lost yachts?”

“I don't know. Maybe. Greg Cermak, Eliot's brother, said that Eliot told him they'd taken the Firebird out two hundred billion klicks.”

“And-?”

“Two hundred billion kilometers takes them absolutely nowhere. It would be way outside the planetary system.”

“And of course Beta Marikon-?”

Beta Marikon, of course, is our nearest stellar neighbor. “Nowhere close,” I said. “They would simply have been in the pit.”

“You think the brother might have been mistaken?”

“Sure. Still, he seemed certain that was what Eliot had said.”

He thought about it. “Something to file.” He started for the door. “When you've a minute, come on back. I've something to show you.”

After I got organized, I followed him to his office in the rear. He poured coffee for me and got out some sticky buns. I settled into a chair. “I just hate the personal attacks,” I said.

“I know. Audree feels the same way. She thinks I should retire and just sit out here for the rest of my life.”

“You know, nobody 's really suggesting that. But we could lower our profile a little.”

“That would take all the fun out of it.”

“Look, Alex. You mind if I tell you what I really think?”

“I wasn't aware you haven't been doing that all along.”

“You've accomplished more than most people dream of. Kids look up to you. Everybody except people like Colter respects you. And he's just jealous. They'll name some schools after you one day. But who knows when it might all turn around. I'm tired of watching you risk your reputation.”

“Chase-”

“Let me finish: For you, this is always a game. It's the same game you played with your uncle. It almost destroyed your relationship with him. It's time to give it up. It really is. You don't need the money. God knows you don't need the celebrity.” I wanted to stop, but I couldn't. “Screw it up now, one misstep, and it's going to be gone. If people start to believe these stories, it'll be over. Once they decide you're a con artist, you won't get your reputation back. Not ever.” I was trying to hold my temper in check.

“Chase.” He looked offended. “I have an obligation to our clients, too.” He stopped and stared at me. “Is that what you think I am? A con artist?”

“Sometimes, Alex, I'm not so sure.”

“Okay.” His face paled. “Chase-” Then he bit down on whatever he was about to say. I don't think I'd ever seen him seriously angry with me before. “All right,” he said. “Let it go.” He took a piece out of one of the buns, pushed them across to me, and chewed silently. When he'd finished, he commented that Jacob had come across another sighting that we hadn't known about previously.

The display lit up, and we were looking at a dispatch dated 1385.

(KPR) An unidentified ship passed within tracking range of Tippimaru last night. Authorities at the space station reported that the vehicle did not respond to repeated directives to turn flight control over to the operations center. All attempts at communication proved fruitless.

Failure to comply put the vehicle in violation of at least six provisions of the transport code. An investigation is under way.

An operational representative added that no one was in danger at any time.

“That's interesting,” I said. “I hope you're not going to tell me that Chris Robin was there again?”

He smiled. “No. I'd have liked it if he had been.” A hologram appeared in the center of the room. Reporters at one of the terminals. Hurling questions at a woman in a StarCorps uniform. “They're saying that it wasn't a standard drive, Commander. Is it possible it was an alien?”

“Did you actually see the thing, Commander?”

“What did it look like to you?”

She held out her hands. “One at a time, please.” They quieted. “I can't believe you guys are asking me seriously about aliens.” She smiled. Foolish notion. “Give us a little time, and I'm sure we'll figure out what happened out there this morning. To start with, I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be a Mute.”

“Well,” I said, “Mutes are aliens.”

“Not anymore.” Alex looked amused. He poured two glasses of orange juice and passed one over. “This one never amounted to much. Tippimaru's a small out-of-the-way place, and nobody pays much attention to what goes on there. But they never did come up with an explanation.”