There’d been wars, dictators, pogroms, rebellions, disasters. We’d seen golden ages, periods of extended prosperity, social and artistic triumphs. The great men and women had come and gone, as had the monsters, the visionaries, the rebels, and the artists. The sciences had advanced and retreated, Brooking had made his celebrated effort to reach M4 (and been lucky to come home alive). Trillions of human beings had been born and lived out their lives. More than half of recorded history had passed.
“You ever been to an older site?” I asked Alex.
“On the ground, yes,” he said. “But not anything like this.” We were in one of the dining rooms. The bulkheads were gray and cold in the light from our lamps. On one, near the door, there was a barely discernible stain. Maybe caused long ago by leaking water. Maybe by spilled coffee. (Did they have coffee in those days?) It had the effect of reminding us that people had actually come into this room and talked, and munched on sandwiches. Drunk cold beer. I wondered whether Harry Williams had ever sat at one of the tables.
We took back another container of artifacts, our fourth. Among other things it contained a white pullover shirt and a jacket. The ship’s emblem was emblazoned on the right-hand breast pocket of the shirt, and a silhouette of the Seeker had been embroidered on the back of the jacket. Both were in remarkably good condition. Stiff as boards, but when we got them to the Belle Marie, they’d flex out.
We took inventory and stored everything in the common room. Despite our success, Alex remained in a dark mood. He’d made the discovery of his career, of anybody’s career, but he showed no sign of self-satisfaction. “It’s not really our discovery, Chase,” he said. “The Wescotts found it.”
That wasn’t the issue, of course. But I played the game with him. “Columbus wasn’t the first guy to discover America, either,” I said. “But he was smart enough to make the announcement, so he gets the credit. All of it.”
“Public relations,” Alex said.
What was the difference?
He was staring at the bulkhead. “I think we need to talk to Harry again.”
“Why?” I asked. “What do you expect to find out? He doesn’t know any more about that”-I looked toward the Seeker -“than we do.”
“I know. But I want to talk to him anyhow.”
Belle complied, and Harry Williams appeared, seated in a lush armchair. “Hello,” he said, cheerfully. “Good to see you folks. Where are we now? Another oddball world?”
Before anybody answered, he noticed the Seeker through the bridge portals, and his eyes hardened. “What happened?” he demanded.
“The engines exploded,” Alex told him. “That’s all we know.”
Harry went over to the viewport and stared out. He looked scared.
“It appears they were carrying a full load,” Alex continued. “We think most of the passengers were kids.”
“When did it happen?”
“We don’t know that either,” Alex said. “We don’t know any more now than you do.”
“What about the colony?”
“We haven’t even figured out where the colony was.”
His voice caught. “You found the Seeker, but you don’t know where the colony was?
How’s that possible?”
“The ship is adrift in a system that has nothing approximating the kind of world you’d have needed. We don’t have a clue why it’s here or where it came from.”
“How hard can it be?” he demanded. “Just look for a class-K.”
“You’re not listening, Harry. There is no class-K in this system.”
Harry shook his head. Can’t be. “Where are we now?” he asked.
I told him. Tinicum 2116. Same as last time.
“Do you know where the colony was established?” Alex asked. I could hear growing impatience in his voice.
“No. I’ve told you, I’m only a composite.”
“I don’t mean you, the avatar. I mean you, Harry Williams. When the first flight left Earth, taking the colonists out to wherever the hell it was, did Williams know the destination?”
“No.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. Not in the sense you’re asking. I couldn’t have told anyone where it was. I’d been there. I knew what the world looked like. But I don’t know anything about star travel.”
“You just knew it was out there, somewhere.”
“Yes. There was no need for me to have specifics beyond that. They were irrelevant.”
In spite of everything he managed a smile. “Tell me something was fifteen degrees west of Antares, and I would have no idea what you were talking about.”
“All right. Let’s try it this way. Who originally planned the details for the flights to Margolia?”
“Clement Estaban.”
The name meant nothing to me, but Alex nodded. “The man who walked away,” he said.
“Yes. At the last minute, he changed his mind. He wasn’t the only one.”
“How did that come about?”
“Estaban was an engineer. Made some of the early exploratory flights. And he found a summer world.”
“Was he the first to suggest the idea of a colony?”
“No. I don’t think so. To be honest, I don’t remember who first suggested it. But-”
He was still having trouble with his voice. “I hope they’re okay.” He spoke as if the original colonists might still be alive somewhere.
“Harry,” said Alex, “what were the long-range plans for the Seeker and the Bremerhaven?”
“You mean after they delivered the colonists?”
“Yes.”
“Simple enough. After the third voyage, the two ships were to remain with the colony.
They were going to be put in orbit. Kept accessible in case we needed them.”
“Okay. That means you intended to maintain them. But did you actually have the people to do it? And the equipment?”
“Yes. We had both. We sent an orbital dock out with the colony. With all the parts and equipment we would need for the foreseeable future. And we had a few engineers. Not specialists in that kind of work, but willing to learn. But-”
“-But what?”
“I don’t think we were that concerned about the ships. We didn’t seriously expect to use them again. Our sense of the situation was that we were going to be a long time getting the colony up and running. Years. Maybe decades. We weren’t much interested in maintaining an interstellar capacity. There was no need for it.”
“Okay.”
“We were going to keep the ships so we didn’t lose the technology. So we’d be able to manufacture our own, when the time came.”
“Suppose the colony got into trouble? There was no long-range communication. You couldn’t call for help.”
“What kind of trouble could we have gotten into?”
“Plague,” I suggested.
“We were going to be an off-world life-form. None of the local bugs could have touched us.”
“How could you possibly be sure?” demanded Alex. “In the beginning of the interstellar age, the notion that disease could only affect life-forms from its own biosystem was only theory.”
“We talked to the top people. They said it wasn’t possible.”
“They were wrong, Harry. There’ve been some incidents.”
He made a noise in his throat. His eyes were filled with pain. And I know. It was only an avatar. Not real. But you should have been there. “Belle,” I said, “can you cut the emotional levels? We need to be able to talk to him.”
“Sorry, Chase,” she said. “If I make adjustments in the personality, I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the model.”
“It’s okay,” said Alex. “Harry, you put, what, five thousand people out in the middle of nowhere. How could you be sure something wouldn’t go wrong?”
“We were very careful. We knew the place we were going to. I assure you it was safe.”
“Suppose somebody changed his mind. Wanted to go home?”
“The colony would be home.”
“Come on, Harry. You know what I’m saying.”
His eyes closed for a moment. “Actually, we knew that would happen and we made provision for it.”
“What was the provision?”