Priscilla. Well, he’d done his homework more thoroughly than she had. “My friends call me Hutch.”
“I know. Hutch.”
She felt as if this guy was swallowing her alive. My God, she needed desperately to get out and around a bit more.
“Glad to meet you, Peter.” She extended a hand and eased into a chair beside him.
“The Academy treats these people too lightly,” he said. “They’re hung up on the Fourth Floor.” Where the administrative offices were. “I really hope something comes of this mission.”
“You actually think there’s something to all this?”
“Probably not,” he said. “But I’d love to see somebody like George get credit for the biggest discovery in the history of the species, while the horses’ asses get left behind.” His eyes radiated pleasure. “If there’s a God,” he said, “this is His chance to show He has a sense of humor.”
The pool was empty save for a muscular young man tirelessly doing laps. Hutch watched him for several seconds. “I hope you get your wish,” she said.
He finished off his drink and put the glass down on a side table. “You’re skeptical.”
“Yes.”
“Good. One should always be skeptical. That’s always been our problem. We have too many believers.”
“Believers in what?”
“In everything.”
The swimmer hit the end of the pool, turned under, and started back. He was smooth. An attendant came by and took a drink order. A young couple wandered in, glanced around, and apparently recognized Pete. They came over, looked hard, and came still closer. “Aren’t you Peter Damon?” the woman asked. The man stood back a bit, looking embarrassed.
“Yes,” said Pete.
She smiled, bit her lip, told him she wished she had something for him to sign. When they were gone, Hutch asked whether that sort of thing happened regularly.
“Fairly often,” he said. “Balm for the ego.”
“I guess.” And then: “There’s something to be said for faith.”
“In yourself, Hutch. But you already know that.”
“What makes you think so?”
“I know about you. I’m the one who asked for you.”
SHE WAS UP late next morning, had a quick breakfast, and reported to the operations officer. She knew by then that she’d be picking up two passengers, an artist and a funeral director (of all things), en route. And she’d have another celebrity on board, Alyx Ballinger, who’d begun as a star of musicals and later went downhill (Hutch thought) to playing beautiful women in danger. Nobody, it had been said, could scream like Alyx. It was said to be a riveting sound that froze the blood and moved every male to want to leap to her defense.
Departure was scheduled for 1930 hours. She was given her flight plan and general instructions, and was in the act of signing for them when word came that Director Virgil wanted to speak with her. The ops officer, a female Native American, was obviously impressed. She led Hutch into an adjoining suite, invited her to sit, informed her that the director would be on the circuit momentarily, and left, closing the door behind her.
Moments later, the wallscreen brightened, and Virgil appeared. She beamed a good morning. “Before you go,” she said, “there’s something you should know. The Oxnard has been out near 1107 doing survey work. It has pretty good scanning gear. So we sent her over to take a look.”
“And—”
“She heard something. It took several days, and I’ve got an irritated skipper on my hands.” She smiled. You know how easily these people get upset. “There does seem to be something there.”
“Is it the same signal?”
“It’s of the same type. But it’s not identical. It had the same transmission and textual characteristics. But they picked it up 140 degrees around the star. From the other two. And this one was incoming.”
“Toward 1107?”
“Yes.”
“A hundred-forty degrees. Not one-eighty?”
“No. It’s not a case of a signal merely passing through close to the star.”
“You’re sure? Could the neutron star be bending the signal? They do that, you know.”
“Not forty degrees, Hutch.”
“So there’s a relay station.”
“That’s what we think.”
She laughed. “And the source is way the hell off somewhere else.”
“Apparently.”
“Can you tell where?”
“No. We don’t have an angle. It’s what we’d like you to get.”
“So this is turning into a serious operation. Why don’t you send out a regular mission?”
“Politically, I don’t dare. Priscilla, you’re our mission. See what’s going on. Report back as soon as you figure it out.”
“Okay.”
“You have Pete out there, so it’s not as if you’re alone.”
“We’ll do what we can.”
“Good. I’ll send the specifics to Bill. On another subject, I understand you’ll be meeting Mr. Hockelmann and his group this afternoon.”
“That’s correct.”
“Good. George is a little strange. Doesn’t like UFO jokes. You understand what I’m telling you?”
A mule could understand. “Yes, Sylvia.”
“I’d be grateful if…” She stopped and looked uncomfortable. “I just want to remind you there’s a diplomatic side to this operation.”
Hutch hadn’t been aware until a few moments ago there’d been any other side.
“He doesn’t know yet about the new transmission. I suggest you enlighten him. Give him the data packet. There’s nothing in it, really. Characteristics of the signal, as much as we have. But give it to him. He’ll be appreciative.”
Something for the head of mission to play with. “Okay. Obviously we still have nothing in the way of translation?”
“No. Our people say they don’t have enough text. That’s something else I’d like you to concentrate on out there. Get more on the record.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“I know you will. By the way, I don’t know what sort of experience you have around neutron stars. There is very strict guidance on how close in you can go.”
“I know.”
“Bill will bring you up to date.”
“Okay.”
“We’ve given you a lander, just in case. Obviously you won’t have any use for it at 1107.”
“So why do I have it?”
“My original thought was that it would be unlikely anything untoward would happen while you were at 1107. Eventually, you’ll probably join the Condor. Captain Brawley has instructions to take his people groundside if he can determine it’s safe and they find anything to attract their interest. Anything at all.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t want George and the others feeling cheated. So don’t hesitate to go over and join the party. You’ll only be a few hours away.”
“Sylvia, who’s in charge?”
She squirmed. “You’re the ship’s captain.”
“That’s not what I asked. I mean, I’ve got the owner on board.”
“That’s true. Technically, the contract describes you as operator and advisor. But I’m sure George and his people will do as you suggest.”
Oh, that’s good. But on the other hand, how much trouble could they possibly get into? The mission seemed clean enough. Go out to 1107, listen for signals, record them, scan for a relay system, maybe join Preach looking at a couple of moonscapes. Simple enough. “Okay,” she said.
“Excellent.” Virgil appraised her and looked less than confident. Ah, well, we’ll hope for the best. “Good luck, Hutch,” she said. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
SHE SPENT MOST of the afternoon in the operational tank, taking the Memphis through a series of virtual maneuvers, getting a feel for her characteristics and responses and, most significantly, for her sensor and enhancement capabilities. The Academy had prepared a series of high-gravity scenarios and problems for her. She failed a few, and twice got caught in the grip of the dead star. On those occasions her controls went into null mode while warning lamps flashed and Bill’s voice told her quietly that she was being pulled apart and distributed around the area.