Tor amused himself by making charcoal sketches of the various participants, Pete with his sax, Alyx wrapped around her microphone, Herman as a World War II sailor.
He might have heard about Hutch’s question, because he presented her with a sketch depicting her in her Phillies uniform crouched inside the on deck circle, cradling four bats.
She was delighted with it, and mounted it on the bridge.
THEY WERE THREE days out from 1107 when Preacher reported that the Condor had arrived at Point B, and was preparing to jump back into sublight space.
“Excitement’s pretty thick,” he said. “These guys are really ready to go. Hutch, I hope we find something.”
“I hope you do, too, Preach.”
In the morning he was back with the first report. “We’ve arrived, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. Still trying to find the worlds in this system. I doubt my passengers understand how there could be something as big as a planet out there and we can’t find it. I try to explain that the neighborhood’s pretty big, too, but they don’t see it.”
Her own passengers watched with mixed emotions. They wouldn’t admit it, but they didn’t really want their compatriots to succeed at Point B. If there was to be a discovery, they wanted that it would happen at 1107. Point A.
“How long will it be before they know what the system looks like?” asked George.
“They won’t get data on the entire system,” she said. “The Condor isn’t designed for large-scale mapping and charting. They’ll concentrate on looking for worlds in the biozone, and on trying to locate the incoming signal. That may take a couple of days. More, if they’re unlucky.”
But George’s concern suggested the degree to which life changed on the Memphis once the other ship had actively begun its survey. The social cruise was over, and everyone now took to waiting on news from Point B.
Preach’s messages reflected a similar mood on the Condor. Not that he said anything directly, but a solemn tone crept into his voice. “No sign of planets yet,” he said. “Class-G sun. They should be here somewhere.”
Some news came during the evening of the second day of the search: “We found a gas giant. Too cold out there, though. It’s not what we’re looking for.”
Everyone was still up when Hutch went to bed that night. In the morning, there was still nothing. And then, while several of them were having breakfast: “Terrestrial world. Clouds. Oceans. But no electronic envelope.”
An audible sigh ran down the table.
“It’s quiet,” Preach said.
HUTCH LOVED THE bridge at night, when the passengers were asleep and the ship was more or less at rest. Oddly, it wasn’t at all the same when she was traveling alone. The knowledge that the others were there was somehow important, as if a tribal instinct cut in, supplying reassurance from the fact that her siblings all lay just beyond the glow of the instrument panels.
In the dark, she smiled.
She had stocked the cooler with an ample supply of French champagne, to be used for celebratory purposes when, and if, the Memphis succeeded in what she was trying to do. In the event of failure the champagne could be pressed into service to celebrate some other event, perhaps a birthday, or the completion of another of Tor’s sketches.
On that last night before they were to make their jump back to sublight, Tor surprised her by showing up on the bridge. It was the first time she’d found herself alone with him since he’d come aboard. “It seems strange,” he said, “seeing you as an authority figure.”
She tried to downplay the idea. “It’s just the job.”
He loitered by the hatch, reluctant to enter.
“I’ve done some art research,” she said. “You’re a professional.”
He nodded. “Thanks. Actually, yes. I’m able to support myself now.”
“You’ve done better than that. You’re living the life you’ve dreamed about. That doesn’t happen to very many of us.”
“It happened to you.”
“Not really.”
“Didn’t you always want to pilot these things?”
“Yes. But it turned out differently from what I’d expected.”
“In what way?”
“Tor, it isn’t as glamorous as it looks.”
“It does look glamorous.” He glanced around, to be sure no one had come in, and lowered his voice. “May I tell you something?”
Uh-oh. “Sure.”
His gaze touched her eyes. “I was sorry to lose you.”
She looked down at the console, uncertain how to reply.
“I won’t bring it up again,” he said. “And I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know.” He looked at her for a long moment. “Good night, Hutch.”
She watched him start for the door. “Tor,” she said.
He turned, and she saw hope flicker. “I know this is hard on you.” She was going to add something about how she was a friend he could always count on, but it seemed dumb so she stopped. “I appreciate the attitude you’ve taken.”
He nodded and was gone. And she realized that her last remark hadn’t been much smarter than the one she’d choked off.
PREACH CAME BACK while they were getting ready to make their own jump. “Still no details. But it’s right in the middle of the biozone. We can see blue skies. Continents and oceans. The bishop has suggested we name it Safe Harbor. The bad news is there’s still no indication of electronic activity, and the scopes show no sign of light on the dark side. Maybe we’re still too far away. But it looks empty.”
The picture on the screen changed to a starfield. The imager homed in on a point of light. Two points of light. “That’s it,” he continued, “as seen from the main scope. It has a big moon.”
“Well,” George said, “he’s probably right. They’re still too far away. Or maybe it’s not even the right world. Aren’t there other places in that system?”
Preach hadn’t said.
“I’ll ask him when I get a chance, George,” said Hutch. “Meantime let’s have everybody buckle up and go see what we have.”
She retired to the bridge. By the time she got there, six green lights had appeared on the transition console. Her passengers were all safely cocooned in their harnesses.
She brought them out into sublight, at long range from 1107. Alyx and Nick both came out of the jump somewhat the worse for wear. Alyx lost her lunch and Nick swayed under a vertigo attack. Those kinds of effects were common enough. Neither had endured a problem on the way out, but transition sickness tended to be unpredictable, a hit-or-miss affair. Hutch herself still became ill on occasion.
“Activate long-range sensors,” she told Bill.
The screens blinked on and showed lots of stars but nothing else. Which was pretty much what you expected to see in the neighborhood of a neutron star.
“Looks dark out there,” said Herman, from the common room. Hutch was relaying results from the telescopes onto the big wallscreens. “How far out are we?” he asked.
“In the boonies,” said Hutch. “Eighty A.U.s from the neutron star.”
Alyx asked how long she thought it would take to find the transmission.
Hutch put an image of the Memphis on-screen, with its outsize antennas. “It would help if we got lucky. The transmission’s narrow, and we can’t maneuver well because it wouldn’t take much to collapse the dishes. But we have a pretty good idea where to look, and that’ll help.”
“How can you figure out where you are? Everything here looks the same as everything else.”
She brought up a picture of one of the satellites left by the Benny. “We use these to establish our position.”
Alyx nodded but didn’t look as if she understood. “You didn’t tell me how long you thought it would take.”