And then had come the War of Reclamation, ruthlessly bringing the Habitats back under Earth dominion and in the process wiping out virtually all records of the Giant Leap project. By the time humanity started riding flapblacks and were finally able to go out looking for them, they had completely vanished. “OK—the Freedom’s Peace. What about it?”
“I’ve found it,” she said simply.
I stared at her. “Where?”
“Out in space, of course,” she said tartly. “You don’t expect me to give you its exact location until you’ve agreed to take me there, do you?”
“But it’s somewhere near Parex?” I prompted.
She eyed me closely. “It’s accessible from Parex,” she said. “That’s all I’ll say.”
I pursed my lips, trying to think, listening with half an ear to the Brahms playing in the background. At least now I understood why there was so much money involved. Never mind the academic community; a historical find like this would rock the whole Expansion, from the Outer March colonies straight up to Earth and the Ten Families. Not to mention putting the discoverers permanently into the history books themselves.
Which did, however, bring up an entirely new question. “So why me?” I asked. “Your university could hire a much better transport than the Sergei Rock with the money you’re willing to spend.”
Her thin lips compressed momentarily. “There are—competitors, shall we say—who want to reach the Freedom’s Peace first. I know of at least one group that has been watching me.”
“You’re sure they don’t know the location themselves?”
“I’m sure this group doesn’t,” she retorted. “But there are others, and some of them may be getting close.” She waved a hand at the cabin around her. “I had to grab the first transport that was heading anywhere near it.”
“But you are authorized to use that money card?” I asked.
She smiled coldly. “Trust me, Captain: if I succeed here, the university will gladly authorize ten times what’s on that card. The historical significance of the furnishings alone will send shock waves through the Expansion. Let alone all the rest of it.”
“All the rest of what?” I asked, frowning. I’d have thought the historical artifacts they would find aboard would be all there was.
“I thought I mentioned that,” she said with a sort of malicious innocence. “When I asked about people needing assistance, remember? The Freedom’s Peace isn’t just drifting dead in space—it’s still underway.
“Obviously, someone is still aboard.”
The same rule book that said the musicmaster had to take a thirty-minute break every four hours also said that the crew was never to all be away from their posts at the same time, while in flight, except under extraordinary circumstances. I decided this qualified; and the minute Jimmy went on break, I hauled the three of them into the dayroom.
“I don’t know,” Bilko mused when I’d outlined Scholar Kulasawa’s proposition. “The whole thing smells a little fishy.”
“Which parts?” I asked.
“All parts,” he said. “For one thing, I find it hard to believe this race is so tight she had to settle for a transport like the Sergei Rock.”
“What’s wrong with the Sergei Rock?” I demanded, trying not to take it personally and not entirely succeeding. “We may not be fancy, but we’ve got a good clean record.”
“And don’t forget those boxes of hers,” Jimmy put in. I didn’t have to ask how he was leaning—he was practically bouncing in his seat with excitement over the whole thing. “She needed a transport that could carry them.”
“Yes—let’s not forget those boxes,” Bilko countered. “Did our esteemed scholar happen to tell you what was in them?”
“She said it was her research equipment,” I told him.
“That’s one hell of a lot of research equipment.”
“Historians and archaeologists don’t make do with a magnifying glass and tweezers anymore,” I said stiffly.
“Why are we all arguing here?” Jimmy put in earnestly. “I mean, if there are people out there who are lost, we need to help them.”
“I don’t think Scholar Kulasawa cares two sparkles about whoever’s aboard,” Bilko growled. “It’s Columbus Syndrome—she just wants the credit for discovering the New World.”
“Shouldn’t it be the Old World?” Jimmy suggested.
Bilko threw him a glare. “Fine. Whatever.”
I looked at Rhonda. “You’ve been pretty quiet,” I said. “What do you think?”
“I don’t think it matters what I think,” she said quietly. “You’re the owner and captain, and you’ve already made up your mind. Haven’t you?”
“I suppose I have, really,” I conceded. “But I don’t want to steamroll the rest of you, either. If anyone has a solid reason why we should turn her down, I want to hear it.”
“I’m with you,” Jimmy piped up.
“Thank you,” I said patiently. “But I was asking for dissenting opinions. Bilko?”
“Just the smell of it,” he said sourly. “I might have something solid if you’d let me look into those crates of hers.”
I grimaced. “Compromise,” I said. “You can do a materials scan and sonic deep-probe if you want. Just bear in mind that Angorki customs would have done all that and more, and apparently passed everything through without a whisper. Other thoughts?”
I looked at Rhonda, then at Bilko, then back at Rhonda. Neither looked particularly happy, but neither said anything either. Probably had decided that arguing further would be a waste of breath. “All right, then,” I said after a minute. “I’ll go tell Scholar Kulasawa that we’re in and get the coordinates from her. Bilko and I will figure out our vector and then you, Jimmy, will work out a program. Got it? Good. Everyone back to your posts.”
Kulasawa accepted the news with the air of someone who would have found it astonishing if we hadn’t fallen properly into line behind her. The location she gave me would have been a ten-hour trip from Parex, but as it happened was only about six hours from our current position. I couldn’t tell whether she was genuinely pleased by that or simply considered it another example of the Universe’s moral obligation to reconfigure itself in accordance to her plans and whims.
Regardless, the distance was reasonable and the course trivial to calculate. By the time Bilko and I had the vector worked out, Jimmy was ready with several alternative programs. I got him started on a four-hour program—he argued briefly for doing the entire six hours in one gulp, but I’d already stretched the rules enough for one trip—and had him get us underway.
And then, when everything was quiet again, I headed back to the engine room to see Rhonda.
Most of the engineer’s job involved the lift and landing procedures, leaving little if anything for her to do while we were in deep space. Despite that, we almost never saw Rhonda in the dayroom. She preferred to stay at her post, watching her engines, listening to Jimmy’s concert in solitude, and creating the little beadwork jewelry that was her hobby.
She was working on the latter as I came in. “Thought I’d check and see how you were doing back here,” I greeted her as I stepped in through the hatchway.
“Everything’s fine,” she assured me, looking up from her beads.
“Good,” I said, stepping behind her and peering over her shoulder. The piece was only half finished, but already it looked nice. “Interesting pattern,” I told her. “Good color scheme, too. What’s it going to be?”
“A decorated comb,” she said. “It holds your hair in place in back.” She twisted her head to look thoughtfully up at me. “For those of us who have enough hair to need holding, of course.”