All three of them grabbed drinks from a waiter. Wilson could see several other crew members, each at the center of a knot of people. Like him, they were the unlucky ones; more junior members had a free choice where to spend their last night. For himself Wilson would have preferred a less ceremonial event.
“I see our illustrious navigator is here,” Anna said quietly at his shoulder.
Wilson and Oscar saw Dudley Bose standing beneath a Japanese maple. He’d returned from his partial rejuvenation on Augusta having had about fifteen years taken off his age. Unfortunately, his frame hadn’t quite adjusted yet. Skin hung in folds from his neck; his hair was a mottled fuzz of gray and black, and a sagging belly hung over his tuxedo waistband. He was telling some story to his attentive audience of Anshun dignitaries, with his wife in close attendance, laughing as if she’d never heard the anecdote before.
“Remind me again why he’s coming with us,” Oscar said.
“Because he’s the greatest expert the Commonwealth has on the Dyson Pair,” Anna told him demurely.
“Ah. I knew there was a reason.”
Wilson did his best not to frown. Not for the first time he wished he hadn’t bowed to political expediency. Bose hadn’t undergone even half of the tests that the rest of the crew had struggled their way through, let alone taken part in any meaningful training. Having the astronomer on board was simply asking for trouble. But it had got the media off his back.
He saw Nigel Sheldon talking to the Vice President and other members of the ExoProtectorate Council, and made his way over to their small group. As he reached them he realized the young-looking woman standing next to Sheldon, who had his arm around her shoulder, was Tu Lee, their hyperspace officer. Her small delicate figure was clad in a little black dress; with her raven hair cut short she looked like a sexy imp.
“Captain!” Nigel grinned in welcome. “I know you’ve met Elaine.”
Wilson smiled politely at the Vice President. Farndale Engineering had chosen to donate to her rival’s campaign, and Elaine Doi knew that.
“Any last-minute problems?” Nigel asked.
“No. It’s all going remarkably smoothly.”
“We reached point two five light-years per hour on the last test flight,” Tu Lee said. “That’s our operational target, so we’re on the green for tomorrow.”
“Listen to you,” Nigel said. He grinned proudly at her.
“Stop it.” She gave him a sharp look.
“Tu Lee is my great-great-great-granddaughter,” Nigel said to Wilson. “Four natural-born generations; you don’t get a stronger family tie than that. Can you blame me for being proud of her?”
Wilson couldn’t remember that being in Tu Lee’s file.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Tu Lee said, her dark eyes gazing intently up at Wilson. “I never said anything, because I wanted to make the crew on merit.”
“You succeeded,” Wilson said. He suddenly wondered why none of his own family had ever made it through the qualifying stages.
“A Sheldon and a Kime finally flying together, eh,” Nigel said happily. “We’ve got it covered from every angle.”
“Looks that way.” Wilson was having trouble keeping his smile intact.
“I understand you’re taking a lot of weapons on your flight,” Thompson Burnelli said.
“The great debate,” Wilson said, not quite mocking. “Do we shock culturally superior species with our primitive warlike behavior, or do we go into the unknown with sensible protection that any smart alien will understand.”
“Given what we’re facing, a degree of self-defense is appropriate,” Nigel said.
“Huh,” Thompson snorted. “What do you believe, Captain? Is the barrier a defense against some psychopathic race armed with superweapons?”
“We’ll find out when we get there,” Wilson said mildly. “But I’m not taking a crew anywhere unless I stand a chance of bringing them back alive.”
“Come on, Thompson, this is supposed to be a party,” Nigel said. “Stop giving the man a hard time.”
“Just making a point. I’m still not convinced this is the best way to deal with the Dyson Pair. There’s a strong body of opinion saying we should leave them well alone for a few centuries.”
“Yes,” Anna said. “The Guardians of Selfhood for one.”
Thompson flashed her an angry look.
“Any news on them?” Wilson asked Rafael Columbia.
“We’ve made over two hundred arrests in connection with the raid. Mostly black-market arms merchants and other underworld military types. My Chief Investigator is confident they will provide us with enough information to finally track down the organizer.” He didn’t sound impressed.
“She seems to be doing a good job so far,” Oscar said. “There hasn’t been a hint of trouble since the raid.”
“Sure that doesn’t have anything to do with the level of CST security?” Elaine Doi asked demurely.
Oscar raised his glass to her, ignoring the dark expression on Columbia’s face. “That’s probably about ninety-nine percent of the reason, yeah,” he conceded.
She looked around at the four crew members. “So, are you nervous?”
“It would be stupid not to be,” Wilson said. “The fear factor is a significant part of our racial survival mechanism. Evolution doesn’t like arrogance.”
“A healthy attitude. For myself, I wish there was some way of communicating with you. To be cut off from information seems barbaric somehow.”
Wilson smiled a challenge at Nigel. “I guess our best hyperspace theorists aren’t quite up to that.”
Nigel raised a glass, but didn’t take the bait. “That’s the whole reason for me getting Wilson here to captain the mission. As they can’t refer every decision back here for review by your committees, I wanted someone who could make a decent judgment call. Unless you’d like to go yourself, Vice President.”
Elaine Doi glanced from Nigel to Wilson. “I’m satisfied that you’re in charge of the mission, Captain.”
“If we had more than one ship, communications wouldn’t be such an issue,” Oscar said.
“And who’s going to pay for another ship?” Thompson asked quickly. His gaze flicked to one of the big portals set up along the far side of the courtyard garden. They all showed various images of the Second Chance. The starship was docked to its assembly platform, though the outer shell of malmetal had peeled back to a thick toroid skirt around the gateway. Of all the construction gridwork, only a tripod of gantry arms remained, like an aluminum claw gripping the rear of the starship. Sunlight fell across the four-hundred-meter length of the central cylindrical section’s snow-white hull, casting small gray shadows from every hatch, nozzle, grid, antenna, and handrail that stood above the protective cloak of foam. The huge life-support ring was rotating slowly around it, almost devoid of windows, except for a few black rectangles along the front edge. Tiny colored navigation lights winked at various points on the superstructure, otherwise there was no visible activity.
The sight of the massive vessel brought a flush of comfort to Wilson. Something that large, that solid, gave an overwhelming impression of dependability.
“Any subsequent ships would be cheaper now we’ve finalized the design,” Nigel said. “CST is certainly considering the formation of a small exploration fleet.”
“What the hell for?” Thompson said. “This expedition is bad enough, and we know something strange is out there. We don’t need to go looking for trouble any farther out.”
“That’s hardly the attitude that pushed us this far out into the galaxy, Senator. We’re not a poor society, thanks to that outward urge; we should continue to push back the barriers.”