Vernor Vinge - A Deepness in the Sky

I am grateful for the advice and help of: Robert Cademy, John Carroll, Howard L. Davidson, Bob Fleming, Leonard Foner, Michael Gannis, Jay R. Hill, Eric Hughes, Sharon Jarvis, Yoji Kondo, Cherie Kushner, Tim May, Keith Mayers, Mary Q. Smith, and Joan D. Vinge.

I am very grateful to James Frenkel for the wonderful job of editing he has done with this book and for his timely insight on problems with the earlier drafts.

This novel takes place thousands of years from now. The connection with our languages and writing systems is tenuous. But, for what it’s worth, the initial sound in “Qeng Ho” is the same as the initial sound in the English word “checker.” (Trixia Bonsol would understand the problem!)

The manhunt extended across more than one hundred light-years and eight centuries. It had always been a secret search, unacknowledged even among some of the participants. In the early years, it had simply been encrypted queries hidden in radio broadcasts. Decades and centuries passed. There were clues, interviews with The Man’s fellow-travelers, pointers in a half-dozen contradictory directions: The Man was alone now and heading still farther away; The Man had died before the search ever began; The Man had a war fleet and was coming back upon them.

With time, there was some consistency to the most credible stories. The evidence was solid enough that certain ships changed schedules and burned decades of time to look for more clues. Fortunes were lost because of the detours and delays, but the losses were to a few of the largest trading Families, and went unacknowledged. They were rich enough, and this search was important enough, that it scarcely mattered. For the search had narrowed: The Man was traveling alone, a vague blur of multiple identities, a chain of one-shot jobs on minor trading vessels, but always moving back and back into this end of Human Space. The hunt narrowed from a hundred light-years, to fifty, to twenty—and a half-dozen star systems.

And finally, the manhunt came down to a single world at the coreward end of Human Space. Now Sammy could justify a fleet specially for the end of the hunt. The crew and even most of the owners would not know the mission’s true purpose, but he had a good chance of finally ending the search.

Sammy himself went groundside on Triland. For once, it made sense for a Fleet Captain to do the detail work: Sammy was the only one in the fleet who had actually met The Man in person. And given the present popularity of his fleet here, he could cut through whatever bureaucratic nonsense might come up. Those were good reasons… but Sammy would be down here in any case.I have waited so long, and in a little while we’ll have him.

“Why should I help you find anyone! I’m not your mother!” The little man had backed into his inner office space. Behind him, a door was cracked five centimeters wide. Sammy caught a glimpse of a child peeking out fearfully at them. The little man shut the door firmly. He glared at the Forestry constables who had preceded Sammy into the building. “I’ll tell you one more time: My place of business is the net. If you didn’t find what you want there, then it’s not available from me.”

“’Scuse me.” Sammy tapped the nearest constable on the shoulder. “’Scuse me.” He slipped through the ranks of his protectors.

The proprietor could see that someone tall was coming through. He reached toward his desk. Lordy. If he trashed the databases he had distributed across the net, they’d get nothing out of him.

But the fellow’s gesture froze. He stared in shock at Sammy’s face. “Admiral?”

“Um, ‘Fleet Captain,’ if you please.”

“Yes, yes! We’ve been watching you on the news every day now. Please! Sit down. You’re the source of the inquiry?”

The change in manner was like a flower opening to the sunlight. Apparently the Qeng Ho was just as popular with the city folk as it was with the Forestry Department. In a matter of seconds, the proprietor—the “private investigator,” as he called himself—had pulled up records and started search programs. “…Hmm. You don’t have a name, or a good physical description, just a probable arrival date. Okay, now Forestry claims your fellow must have become someone named ‘Bidwel Ducanh.’ “ His gaze slid sideways to the silent constables, and he smiled. “They’re very good at reaching nonsense conclusions from insufficient information. In this case…” He did something with his search programs. “Bidwel Ducanh. Yeah, now that I search for it, I remember hearing about that fellow. Sixty or a hundred years ago he made some kind of a name for himself.” A figure that had come from nowhere, with a moderate amount of money and an uncanny flare for self-advertisement. In a period of thirty years, he had gathered the support of several major corporations and even the favor of the Forestry Department. “Ducanh claimed to be a city-person, but he was no freedom fighter. He wanted to spend money on some crazy, long-term scheme. What was it? He wanted to…” The private investigator looked up from his reading to stare a moment at Sammy. “He wanted to finance an expedition to the OnOff star!”

Sammy just nodded.

“Damn! If he had been successful, Triland would have an expedition partway there right now.” The investigator was silent for a moment, seeming to contemplate the lost opportunity. He looked back at his records. “And you know, he almost succeeded. A world like ours would have to bankrupt itself to go interstellar. But sixty years ago, a single Qeng Ho starship visited Triland. Course, they didn’t want to break their schedule, but some of Ducanh’s supporters were hoping they’d help out. Ducanh wouldn’t have anything to do with the idea, wouldn’t even talk to the Qeng Ho. After that, Bidwel Ducanh pretty much lost his credibility…. He faded from sight.”

All this was in Triland’s Forestry Department records. Sammy said, “Yes. We’re interested in where this individual is now.” There had been no interstellar vessel in Triland’s solar system for sixty years.He is here!

“Ah, so you figure he may have some extra information, something that would be useful even after what’s happened the last three years?”

Sammy resisted an impulse to violence. A little more patience now, what more could it cost after the centuries of waiting? “Yes,” he said, benignly judicious, “it would be good to cover all the angles, don’t you think?”

“Right. You’ve come to the right place. I know city things that the Forestry people never bother to track. I really want to help.” He was watching some kind of scanning analysis, so this was not completely wasted time. “These alien radio messages are going to change our world, and I want my children to—”

The investigator frowned. “Huh! You just missed this Bidwel character, Fleet Captain. See, he’s been dead for ten years.”

Sammy didn’t say anything, but his mild manner must have slipped; the little man flinched when he looked up at him. “I-I’m sorry, sir. Perhaps he left some effects, a will.”