And that evening, back in Andiquar, we had a celebratory dinner at Culp’s on the Tower.
By morning we’d had more than a hundred responses. Everybody wanted details, most inquired about starting negotiations, and others wanted to know when they could see specified objects. I referred the money issues to Alex, while I arranged to have the merchandise shipped down from orbit.
Rainbow had always been a profitable venture for him, and it had provided a good situation for me. It paid better than running around in an interstellar bus, it was less disruptive to my personal life, and in fact I loved the work.
It’s an odd thing about collectors. The value of an artifact tends to be in direct proportion to the proximity the object would have had to the original owner, or at least the degree to which it could have been seen or handled by him. That’s why dinner plates and glasses are so popular, why a collector will pay good money for a panel board, while turning thumbs down on the recycler or generator that it controlled.
If Alex had been one of those people given to framing an epigraph and hanging it on the wall, it would have read, THE PAYOFF ’ S IN FLATWARE . People love dishes and cups and forks and, if the historical background is right, they’ll pay almost anything to own them. Especially if a ship’s seal is present. The truth about our customers was that none of them was going to show up at the bargain store. In fact, it had become obvious to me that, unlike standardized goods, antiquities tend to become more sought after as the price goes up.
The routine work took several days. By the end of the week money had begun to come in, and we were shipping off the first Night Angel objects. Although we hadn’t communicated directly with Survey, they’d learned of the find, as we knew they would, and the director got in touch with Alex. Where was the outstation? Was there any chance they could see it? Alex said he would try to arrange something. It was, of course, the signal for us to demonstrate our munificence. “How did you want to handle it?” I asked.
“ You take care of it, Chase. Go see Windy.”
“ Me? Don’t you think you should do this personally? Give it to Ponzio himself?
You’re making a pretty big donation.”
“No. I’d have a hard time containing myself. If we’re going to get maximum value out of this, humility is the way to go.”
“You’re not good at that.”
“My thought exactly.”
Winetta Yashevik was the archeological liaison at Survey, and an old friend. We’d gone to school together. She didn’t approve of Alex because of his profession.
Turning antiquities into commodities and selling them to private buyers struck her as grossly incorrect. When I’d gone to work for Rainbow twelve years earlier she told me it was a sellout.
But she listened carefully while I described what we’d seen. She gazed at the ceiling with a help-me-stay-calm-Lord expression when I told her we’d taken “some” of the artifacts, and finally nodded solemnly when I announced the gift.
“Everything you couldn’t carry off, I presume?” We were sitting on a love seat in Windy’s office. Old pals. It was a big office, on the second floor of the Kolman building. Lots of pictures from the missions on the paneled walls, a few awards.
Winetta Yashevik, employee of the year; Harbison Award for Outstanding Service;
Appreciation from the United Defenders for contributions to their Toys for Kids program. And there were pictures of dig sites. I recognized the collapsed towers at Ilybrium, but the others were just people standing around excavations.
“We could have gone back,” I said. “We could have stripped the place clean.”
She stared at me intensely for a moment, then relented. Windy was tall, dark, send-in-the-cavalry. She’d trained originally to be an archeologist, and had some field experience. She had a lot of good qualities, but she wasn’t someone I’d have put in a position that required diplomacy and tact. “How’d you find it?” she asked.
“The archives.”
A water clock in a corner of the room made a gurgling sound. “Incredible,” she said.
“There’s something else,” I said. “We found a corpse. A woman.”
“Really? You mean an old corpse?”
“Yes. It looked as if she was left behind when they cleared out.”
“No idea why? Or who she was?”
“None.”
“We’ll look into it when we get there. Maybe we can turn up something. I don’t suppose you brought it back with you?”
I hesitated. “We put it out the airlock.”
Her eyes closed, and she stiffened. “You put what out the airlock?”
“The corpse.” I wanted to say, hey, it wasn’t my idea, it was Alex, you know how he is. But I didn’t want her going after my employer and saying how I’d pointed the finger at him.
“Chase,” she said, “you didn’t. ”
“Sorry.”
“Hell of a time for you two to get a conscience.”
The windows began to darken. Storm coming. It seemed like a good time to change the subject. “Alex thinks there are a dozen more of them out there.”
“Corpses?”
“Outstations.”
“As far as we can tell, the Shenji built a lot of them.” People had started establishing outstations almost as soon as they’d left the home world. “Listen, Chase:
If he finds another one, how about letting us take a look first? Before you guys charge in.”
“This one took him the better part of two years.”
She sighed at the injustice of it all. “We’ve had people devote whole lifetimes and come away empty.”
“Alex is pretty good at what he does, Windy.”
She got up, walked over to the window, turned her back to it, and half sat against the sill. “You want nothing in return?” she asked.
“No. It’s free and clear.” I handed her a chip. “This is the location. And the transfer of all rights.”
“Thank you. We’ll see that you get full credit.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you find it useful.”
She opened a drawer in her desk and put the chip inside. “I’ll have the director get back to Alex. Express his appreciation.”
“That would be nice,” I said. “And by the way I have something for you. ” I’d brought a couple of samples with me, pieces from the life-support system, a section of tubing, a filter, and a tiny motor. I took them out of my carrying case and held them out to her. Now this is not going to seem like much to the casual reader, but I knew Windy, and I watched the tension drain away and saw her eyes light up. She reached out tentatively for them, and I put them in her hands.
She held them, letting the centuries flow through her, then she put them on the desk and hugged me. “I appreciate it, Chase,” she said. “You’re okay.”
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“But I still think you two are grave robbers.”
Ten minutes later she was walking me into the office of the director. His name was Louis Ponzio. A man of boundless importance. Ramrod straight. Used to giving directions. Took himself very seriously.
He was a little guy, narrow eyes, narrow nose, lots of energy. Always ready to shake your hand and take you into his confidence. You and I know how things are, he seemed to say. We can trust each other. You always knew when he was in the room.
And you knew he was accustomed to getting his way. He was Dr. Ponzio. Nobody would ever have called him Louie.
Windy explained about the Shenji platform, and Ponzio smiled and tried to look overwhelmed by it all. I didn’t know him that well, but he was a mathematician and a political appointment. That was a double whammy. Political appointments were inevitably people who were getting paid off. And I’d had several bad experiences with mathematicians over the years. Never knew one who could get passionate about anything other than sex and numbers. And not necessarily in that order.