Phyl’s voice again: “Range to Seabright is 285 million kilometers.”
“We lost ground,” said Antonio. “How could that happen?”
Hutch released her belt. “Matt?”
Matt came off the bridge, looking chagrined. “I think we’re on the other side,” he said. “We jumped half a billion klicks. Maybe we were a bit too cautious.”
Antonio was making notes. “Best system in the world doesn’t do you much good if you can’t get where you’re going.”
Jon appeared in the hatch behind Matt. “I guess we missed,” he said. “It’ll just be a matter of making some adjustments. We have to feel our way. Can’t have everything overnight.”
ANTONIO WAS ANNOYED that he couldn’t report back. The Locarno couldn’t really be a success, he told Jon, until it included an advanced communication device.
“I haven’t had time to work on it,” said Jon. “Sorry. But it keeps everything we’re doing mysterious. That should be good. People will be wondering what’s going on out here.”
Antonio went back to his notebook. “I forgot about that aspect of things. I’m going to have to rewrite this,” he complained.
“Why?” asked Matt.
“‘As we stand here,’” he read, “‘looking out at this magnificent sun…’”
“It’s a little hyperbolic, isn’t it?” said Matt.
Antonio’s features darkened. “It’s supposed to be. Audiences like hyperbolic.”
“They’re nitwits,” said Matt.
Antonio shook his head. “Not exactly. But they do like over the top. That’s the reality. The Brits have a taste for understatement. But they’re pretty much in it alone.”
“They’re still nitwits.”
“You sound like somebody else I know,” said Hutch.
“Who’s that?”
“Gregory MacAllister.”
Matt nodded. “One of my favorite people.”
SHE FELT ALIVE. She looked out at strange constellations, configurations she hadn’t seen in decades.
Antonio came over and joined her. Gazed through the viewport. “Lovely,” he said.
“What’s the range of the Locarno?” asked Rudy. “Could we cross the galaxy with this thing?”
Jon shook his head. “Not in one jump. I haven’t really worked out the details yet, but it’s not like the Hazeltine, where once you’re in hyperspace, you stay there until the system acts to bring you back. We don’t belong in Locarno space, if we can call it that, and it keeps trying to push us out. Sort of like an air-filled balloon trying to stay underwater. So the system uses energy throughout the transit. When it runs out of energy, the ship will pop back into normal space.”
“But obviously,” Rudy continued, “we can manage fifty or sixty light-years.”
“Oh, yes. And considerably better than that. I’d guess we could jump ten thousand or so. But that’s only a guess. We’re just going to have to try it and see what happens.”
Hutch could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Ten thousand light-years?”
Jon smiled. “Interesting to think about, isn’t it?”
“It sure is. It really does put the entire galaxy within reach.”
“Why stop there?” asked Rudy.
Matt took a deep breath. “You’re talking what? Andromeda?”
“Why not?”
THEY RELEASED A probe to take pictures of the Preston against the backdrop of Alioth. Phyl adjusted the lenses and filters so the probe wasn’t blinded. She also got pictures of the ship approaching Seabright, gliding past a gas giant, and running alongside a comet.
Phyl prepared a special meal, and they sat down to spaghetti and meatballs, not usually the fare you’d expect on a superluminal. “Things change,” said Matt, “when you only have to feed everybody once.”
They opened a fresh bottle of wine. Filled the glasses and did another round of toasts. “To real estate dealers,” said Jon.
Hutch raised her glass. “Realtors conquer the world.”
Jon watched Antonio writing something into his notebook. “Do you actually have a science background?” he asked.
“Me?” Antonio’s smile widened. It was self-deprecating, genuine, warm. “I was a journalism major,” he said.
“But you’re the science guy for Worldwide. How’d that happen?”
Rudy shook his head. “Jon, Antonio used to be Dr. Science.”
Jon frowned. “Who?”
“Dr. Science. You’re not going to tell me you don’t know who Dr. Science is?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Not at all.”
Jon stared hard at Antonio. “You know, I thought you looked familiar. More than from the Worldwide shows.”
“Hello, boys and girls,” said Antonio, mimicking the voice he’d used years before. “Today we’re going to be talking about event horizons and why we shouldn’t go near them.”
“But you were a journalism major?” persisted Jon.
“Worldwide gave me the science beat because they think I’m pretty good at explaining things so ordinary people can understand them.”
“But how do you do it if you don’t have the physics yourself?”
“I get somebody like you to lay it out for me, then I just translate it into plain English and relay it.” He finished whatever he’d been writing, closed the machine with a sweep of his right arm, and sat back in his chair. “So,” he said, “what’s next?”
Jon looked puzzled. “Next? This is where I wanted to go. Eighty light-years by dinnertime.”
“That’ll be a good title for your autobiography,” said Rudy.
Antonio agreed. “Absolutely right,” he said. “But where do you go from here? What are you going to do about licensing the Locarno? I think you’ve just become the richest guy on the planet.”
“Maybe. I hope so.”
“Has anybody bid yet for manufacturing rights?”
“Everybody in town. It looks as if tours are going to be big again. For a while anyhow. Luxuriat is talking about picking up where Carmody left off.” Carmody had run the luxury flights during the golden years.
“And you’re going to let them have it?” Rudy’s face had gone pale.
“I haven’t decided which one yet.”
“Depends on who makes the best offer?” said Matt.
“Yeah. Something like that.”
LIBRARY ENTRY
The Locarno is simply another novelty. We’ll be replacing the Hazeltine with it, and we’ll go considerably farther than we ever did before, and we’ll learn the same lesson: Life is a rare commodity in the universe. And intelligence even more so. I suspect it can do no harm, as long as we don’t start spending tax money on it again.
—Op-ed by Gregory MacAllister,
Worldwide News Service, Tuesday, September 18
chapter 20
THEY GOT THE good jump Matt had hoped for. Not good enough to make the late shuttle, but enough to bring them into Union in the morning. A crowd was waiting. Some carried signs reading ON TO ANDROMEDA and MOVIN’ OUT. One attractive young woman carried a banner stenciled MARRY ME, JON.
Other signs reflected different sentiments: LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE and SHUT DOWN THE LOCARNO and DON’T COME BACK. But the dissidents were outnumbered. There was some pushing and shoving, and a fight broke out. But the security people were there.
Someone, in a high-pitched voice, asked whether they’d made Alioth. The crowd held its collective breath while Jon paused for dramatic effect. “Yes,” he said, finally. “We’ve been there and come home.”
The crowd roared.
EVENTUALLY THEY GOT away into a room reserved by Rudy. Journalists showed up, and Foundation supporters, so the place quickly overflowed.