Authors: Stuart Clark
“Like what?”
“All sorts of things. The things we all take for granted. We’re all so caught up in our own lives we trivialize the very things that make that life worth living. Like the stars, y’know. I’d forgotten how beautiful they are, but that’s because I never took the time to look.”
Kate smiled at him.
“And you,” he added quietly. “I trivialized you at first, because I never took the time to look. I know better now. I understand now, why you wanted to know my past. Why it was important to you. You were looking right from the start, weren’t you?”
A small tear touched the corner of her eye. “Don’t make me cry again,” she managed through a half-choked laugh.
“That’s the last thing I would want to do. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said.
He cupped her face in his hand and wiped away the falling tear with his thumb, then bent to kiss her lightly on the lips.
“Ahem! When you people are quite finished, would you consider getting yourselves ready for cryosleep?” Bobby interrupted. “And that’s only one person per tube,” she added with a grin. “Some of us have got two weeks of solitary space flight to contemplate.”
Furball jumped up onto the headrest of the co-pilot’s seat and chittered in excitement. “Okay, well, not completely solitary, then.”
Kate sniffed once more and then scratched the back of Furball’s neck. The small animal arched its head backward and into her hand. “He likes that,” she said to Bobby, before sharing a smile with Wyatt. The pair of them walked out of the cockpit.
“I’ll be up to secure your tubes in a minute,” she called after them before mimicking Kate’s action. “Oh you like that, do you, huh?” she asked Furball.
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The radio engineer in the CSETI remote listening outpost shoved his meal away in disgust. “Zane, these recyc meals taste like shit.”
“That’s ‘cause they are,” joked his one and only colleague, “And it’s probably mine.”
“Aah, man. You’re revolting.”
Zane grinned. “Any freighters in the vicinity? Maybe they could drop off some unused supplies. Now that would be a feed.”
Karl shook his head. “I wish, buddy. I wish. There’s nuthin’ out there, friendly or otherwise. I tell ya, man, if I have to listen to much more of this radio noise it’s gonna drive me up the wall. You’ll be out here on your own.”
“Oh yeah, and like, where you gonna go? No man, you and me, we’s stuck in this tin can till they send someone to come get us.”
“And to think, I volunteered for this shit.” He kicked back on his anti-grav chair and swung his legs up onto the counter next to an imposing array of blinking consoles. Aside from the discarded tray, the desk was littered with coffee-stained disposable cups, and some half-chewed pens and pencils. A small screen was downloading pictures of half-naked women, their curves distorted by pixels, and the latest powerdisc results and current standing tables. “Even the Gashoks lost to friggin’ Pittsburgh,” he added with a sigh. “Is there nothing left in my miserable life?”
“Just think about the money.”
“That’s all I do, buddy. That’s all I do.”
The remote listening outposts were exactly that. Remote. They were two-man self-sufficient units, based right on the boundaries of charted space. Being posted to a remote listening station was most people’s idea of hell. Volunteering for it was practically unheard of, but the financial rewards were substantial, even if the social life was non-existent. Six months at a time with just one other guy. There was no question about not getting along. You had to.
The stations were unsurprisingly small and were simply metal spheres with a couple of giant antennae pointing out into the nether regions of space, listening to radio waves. Those radio waves were then channeled into the banks of computers which searched them for signals significantly different from the “noise,” as Karl liked to put it.
The pair of them took turns to monitor the computers and could listen in on what the antennae picked up through headphones. Karl sat with one can covering his left ear and the other tucked behind his right, just resting against his head, so he had one free ear for conversation.
Every now and then, they would pick up a signal, but invariably it was not the communication from alien civilizations that they hoped for and were paid to identify, simply communication from a DSM returning from lucrative quarry digs on a distant unknown planet.
It was common for the freighters to use the outposts as navigation beacons and so they would often pass relatively close by. Even though, for the two men, it was not the contact they desired, it was always good to hear a different voice and sometimes be rewarded with a jettisoned load of unwanted goodies. It came as no surprise to Karl when he recognized the bleep in his ear as that of a ship identification signal. Nonetheless, he sat up straight again and pulled the other can of the set of headphones over his other ear.
“What? Have you got something?” Zane always got excited by any potential contact, even though none in the last four months had proved to be significant. Karl dismissed him with a wave of his hand and a nonchalant shake of his head. Karl filtered out all the other frequencies until he had an unpolluted signal from the ship, and then ran it through the computer’s databanks. When the computer found a match, he frowned at the result. It was one of theirs. He didn’t even know they had ships out here. He felt a knot starting in his stomach. Maybe he’d just stumbled across some top-secret project that they weren’t privy to. It wouldn’t be the first time the CSETI had done something like that. Things happened in the upper echelons of the organization that lackeys like him and Zane never found out about. That was the way it was.
He called up the Endeavour’s details from the last major download they had made from CSETI’s mainframe. His fingers froze, suspended over the keypad in shock. The Endeavour was listed as missing, all hands feared lost.
He pulled the earphones off his head. “Zane! Zane! Get C & C on the com-link now!”
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After a brief knock, the young Lieutenant’s head appeared around the door. “General Leonardson, sir, my apologies for interrupting, but we have something which we think warrants your attention.”
Leonardson squinted through the holo-image, then switched it off with a remote. A brief darkness descended on the room before the lights came up. Twenty people sat around a large oval wooden table rubbed tired eyes or massaged stiff limbs. One or two of them woke up at the interruption.
“Lieutenant, I left strict instructions not to be disturbed. For any reason.”
“I know, sir, but we believe we have reason enough to call on you. Please, General, would you come with me.”
Leonardson was stunned into silence by the younger officer’s audacity. He quickly glanced at each of the people around the table before collecting himself and straightening his uniform. He brought a hand to his mouth and cleared his throat with a small cough. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he managed through a forced smile. “If you would please excuse me.” He turned and strode purposefully towards the young Lieutenant with a face as black as thunder.
The two pairs of polished black shoes click-clacked down the corridor in unison. The two men were striding down the corridor at a hurried pace. Junior officers who met them coming the other way paused only long enough to salute and then moved rapidly out of their way. The younger of the two men carried himself well and looked composed and calm. The older man was furious.
“Do you know who those people were in there? Do you? Do you have any idea what that meeting was all about? That was the single most important meeting of the year. Those men and women are our major backers and investors. NASA, ESA, FSUSE and MESO. Those are the heads of corporations who invest their money in us and allow the CSETI to continue. Those people pay your wages, Lieutenant!!”
The young man continued staring straight ahead. His voice was flat. “I am perfectly aware of who they were, General Leonardson, and as I have already said, we would not have called on you if we did not think it appropriate.”
Leonardson hated him. He was smug and he had not been intimidated by Leonardson’s anger, stature or rank. Many years ago, Leonardson had been like him. Now he despised the arrogance of youth that he had once possessed. “This had better be good,” he grumbled. “Bloody good.”
“I don’t believe you will be disappointed,” the young officer said calmly.
The door slid open silently and Leonardson and the young Lieutenant stepped into command and control, affectionately known as “C&C,” of CSETI base operations. The place was busy. Frenetic. People hurried past them or ran up stairs.
“Do you mind telling me what the hell all this is about?”
The Lieutenant gestured towards some stairs. A third man was approaching them. He saluted, “General Leonardson.”
“Captain.” Leonardson returned the salute.
“Sir. If you would like to follow me.” He turned and led them through C&C, then turned to talk to them as he walked. “General. I’m sorry that we had to interrupt your conference. I know how important it was, but we have a confirmed I.D. on the maxi-shuttle Endeavour from one of the remote listening posts. She is just entering charted space.”
“The Endeavour?”
“Yes, sir. She was a search and rescue ship, sent out to…”
“I know the details, Captain. Are you sure it’s her?”
“Absolutely.”
“Life signs?”
“Five, according to the sensors on the remote listening post.” Leonardson raised his eyebrows. “Four human, one non-human. Three of the human signals are retarded, indicating cryosleep.”
“But one is normal. Conscious?”
“Yes, sir. That is how it appears.”
“Have we made contact?”
“We’re just trying that now, General. That’s why we thought you should be here. We thought you might like to see it when we finally get through.”
The three men approached a bank of monitors and a young telelink officer hastily vacated his seat, saluted and then gestured that Leonardson should take it. “We’re just attempting contact now, sir,” he said. “Be prepared for some time delay, she’s only just coming into our range.”
Through the snow on the monitor, a faint picture started to form. Something was totally obscuring the camera on the Endeavour’s bridge, moving around erratically.
“What the hell…?” Leonardson whispered. As he watched the thing moved away, and he recognized it as a snout of some kind even though he couldn’t see the whole animal. A woman walked into view and picked up the creature, placing it down on the floor before standing again. She brought her face close up to the screen. The picture was bad and interrupted by sporadic static, but it was adequate. Her face seemed somehow familiar to Leonardson. He’d seen her somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where. “This is General Leonardson, CSETI. Who am I speaking to?” The woman did not respond. “This is…”
“Roberta Keele. U.L.F.”
The acronym made him wince. U.L.F. personnel in a CSETI craft, and three other people had heard her. Questions would be asked. What on earth was she doing in a shuttle craft the CSETI had lost? It was imperative he stop her from saying any more. He couldn’t talk here. Leonardson rounded on the telelink operator. “Patch this through to my office immediately, and I want it on a secure channel.”
“Yes sir, General Leonardson, sir.”
CHAPTER