The world will never be the same
Later we learned that the memorial had been financed primarily by donations from the parents of the girl troopers whose lives Harding had saved.
IV.
As soon as we got back in the skimmer, we ran a search for Angela Montgomery, sister of Rick Harding. But we got nothing. We lifted off and flew back home through bright sunlight and warm temperatures, hoping to hear from Angela. But the speaker remained silent. “You know,” said Gabe, “we haven’t checked to see whether Rick Harding has an avatar.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
It turned out there were more than a hundred with that name. We were able to get rid of the surplus by adding “Octavia” to the search. Gabe asked if I was interested in participating in the interview. “Of course,” I said. He was having no hesitation about involving me in the investigation, which was a distinct change in his manner. In the days when I was his assistant, I functioned as not much more than a secretarial aide. I answered incoming calls, was responsible for the paperwork, and took him wherever he wanted to go, whether it was the University Museum or what was left of the colony world Lyseria. But I didn’t do much that was serious. He would not have thought of asking me to help with tactical or strategic issues, as he was doing now. And I understood that not much time had passed for him since then. So this wasn’t an evolutionary change. He’d stepped away from the person he used to be. Or maybe it was that I’d come a considerable distance from those years and he’d noticed.
We made the connection and moments later the Harding avatar appeared on the control panel view screen. He delivered a charming smile in my direction and more or less nodded at Gabe. he said.
Most people groom their avatars. They tend to be taller than the originals, with smoother features, brighter smiles, and a suggestion of higher intelligence in their overall appearance. This one though looked very much like the guy in the online photos. For that matter, like the statue in the park. Except that he wore a button-front V-neck aquamarine cardigan and khaki jeans, not showing off the uniform with which most interstellar pilots adorned their avatars.
He was seated in a luxurious two-piece indigo sectional with his feet propped up on a round ottoman.
We went back and forth on the introduction and then I turned it over to Gabe while the avatar let his eyes show where his interest lay. Gabe caught the message and couldn’t quite hide his amusement. “Rick,” he said, “after the loss of the Octavia, an unusual object was found in your home, something that looks like a silver trophy. It’s inscribed in a language no one recognizes. It was eventually found by your sister Angela. Do you know what I’m referring to?”
“Where did it originate?”
“What is?”
“Really? Who was the other one?”
“Alex Benedict.”
“Okay. I should have guessed. So where did the trophy originate?”
“Tell us about Elysium.”
“Based with whom?”
“So you were a pilot for a touring company?”
“Where are you from originally, Rick?”
“And you’ve been living here ever since?”
“The language on the trophy: Do you know where it’s from?”
“It’s made up?”
“Why on earth would they do that?”
urbanic.
Gabe cleared his throat. “Can you tell us what the inscription means? The one on the silver trophy?”
“It says the language is fictitious?”
“Rick, where is the certificate now?”
“Do you know whether the language was consistent? For example, would ‘highly talented’ look the same on all the awards?”
Gabe exhaled and closed his eyes. “Incredible,” he said. “Chase, you want to take it?”
“Sure. Rick, what other tourist spots did you go to? Other than Oceanside?”
“What was the name of the vehicle you used?”
Moonlight, Loriston, Venture. Venture
“Did these ships all belong to Orion Express?”
Venture
“What happened to it?”
“To whom?”
Gabe and I exchanged glances. “Do you have any close friends in this area, Rick?” I asked. “Near or in Andiquar?”