When we have cast aside all possible explanations, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true. But what if nothing remains?
—AUBREY CARSON, FICTIONAL DETECTIVE CREATED BY ISAAC GLOVER, IN THE ADVENTURE OF THE LOST CLOUD, 8427 CE
I called Chad from Skydeck. “We’re home, Chad. Sorry it took so long.” We’d been gone three months.
“Are you okay?”
“We’re fine. Just glad to be back.” It was strictly an audio exchange. No visuals.
“Thank God. I was seriously worried something had gone wrong. So what the hell happened out there? What was it all about?”
“It was no big deal, Chad. Just a downed lander and some planetary exploration.”
“What downed lander?”
“We don’t have many details. It was on the ground a long time. Probably thousands of years.”
“And that’s it?” He sounded annoyed. “That’s what took all this time?”
“Yes.” I wanted to change the subject. “Chad, we’ll be getting back on the ground later today. Do you want to get together tomorrow for lunch?”
“I’m a bit busy right now. But yeah, sure, I can manage it. Pick you up at home? Or the country house?”
• • •
“So where were you?” asked Alex.
“I told you,” said Gabe. “Checking out a wrecked ship. I showed you the artifacts.”
Alex looked in my direction. We were in Gabe’s quarters, surrounded by his luggage and the artifacts we’d recovered from the wrecked vehicle. “What else is going on?” he asked. The question was directed at me.
“That’s it,” I said. “Listen, I’ve got a lot to catch up on. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”
“Stay,” said Alex. “We’ve always trusted each other.” He eased down onto the sofa. “You guys are hiding something. You want to tell me what it is?”
The conversation continued in that vein for several minutes. Gabe and I sank into chairs while Alex poured coffee for everybody. “We promised we would tell no one,” Gabe said.
“Promised who?”
“Some people we found.”
“Humans?”
“No.”
“Okay, Gabe. You have any idea what artifacts from that place would be worth?”
“I’m fully aware of that, Alex. We didn’t bring anything back.”
He looked puzzled. “How did that happen?”
“They don’t want us talking about the place. And I guess we’ve already violated our promise to them.”
“You saying you don’t trust me? After all we’ve been through?”
“It’s not a matter of trust, Alex. We gave our word.”
“And what did you get in turn?”
“Let’s just let it go, okay?”
“You know I can ask Belle where you’ve been?”
“You can.” Gabe took a deep breath. “But she’s sworn to secrecy.”
He looked over at me. “You in on this too, Chase?” I didn’t need to respond. He saw the answer. “Okay,” he said. “I understand.”
It was time to change the subject. “How are you doing with Octavia?” I asked. “You figure it out yet?”
“Not yet. I’ve spent a lot of time researching Housman and Womack. And talking to Womack’s avatar.”
“Housman didn’t have one?”
“No.”
“Have you picked up anything at all?”
“Not really. Womack seemed to be the more curious of the two. He wanted to get into the science, to understand why the quantum world operates the way it does. Why wormholes actually form. Housman was more interested in making a reputation for himself. He was annoyed that Newton lived at a time when nobody understood about gravity. Or anything else. He says the scientific giants, Galileo, Tycho Brahe, Descartes, weren’t necessarily all that smart. They just had the advantage of being alive at a time when nobody knew anything. So it was fairly easy to make discoveries. He was determined to find a wormhole, which he thought would lock in his name with the others.”
“And look what happened,” I said.
“Anyway, Chase, I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Really? Why?”
“You were going to set up a conversation with Karen Randall. Charlotte Hill’s friend.”
“Oh. I guess I got caught up in this other stuff. I’ll call her today.”
“Good. No hurry. Don’t bring her in on the circuit. See if you can arrange for us to take her to dinner somewhere. Anyplace that’s convenient.” That was typical of him. The reality of a person didn’t always come through with modern technology. He believed a physical presence could be much more revealing.
“Okay. You said ‘us.’ You want me there too?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Chase.”
• • •
Chad showed up on time next morning. He seemed a bit standoffish, but he looked good. His hair was windblown, a smile was playing on his lips, and his eyes were gleaming. He told me how relieved he was that we were home. “I guess this is the way life is,” he said, “when you get mixed up with the planet’s loveliest pilot.” He welcomed me into his arms.
We went to the Lyrica, a quaint little restaurant overlooking Mount Ecott. “I’d have been more comfortable,” he said as we strolled through the door, “if we could have communicated better. If I could have sent you a simple message just asking if you were okay, and gotten a reply. . . .”
“I understand, Chad. I’m sorry it was hard on you. It’s difficult, and expensive, to try to communicate with a ship that’s light-years away.”
“But you were able to send me messages.”
“We knew where Rimway was at any given time. But you don’t usually know where the ship is, so nobody knows where to send the signal.”
“Couldn’t you have told them, Chase?”
“If we were staying in one place, yes. Let’s just let it go, okay?”
“All right. I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.”
• • •
Gabe and I both got checked out by doctors to make sure the radiation hadn’t done any damage. We were pronounced okay, but my doctor was clearly unhappy and told me I should stop the nonsense. “Why on earth,” he asked, “would you want to get that close to a sun?”
We’d made up a story about lost antiquities that was as close to what really happened as we could. We claimed to have found a lost interstellar orbiting a star whose name Gabe made up. He got the same lecture, and we both assured our physicians we wouldn’t do anything like that again.
• • •
It took a couple of days to find Karen Randall. But eventually the three of us were able to get together at a place called Manny’s. It was located across the street from the Oberley Theater, which at the time was undergoing reconstruction. I’d never been there before. Karen was already seated at a table when Alex and I went in. She raised a hand to catch our attention.
I did the introductions and we sat down. “It’s good to see you again, Chase,” she said. “And to meet you, Alex. Do you have any idea what happened to her? To Charlotte? And the station?” She was wearing a soft green button-down blouse with a collar. The color matched her eyes. She was obviously a bit awed by Alex.
“I wish we did, Karen,” he said. “We were hoping you might be able to help.”
“I can’t imagine how I could do that.”
The table invited us to order. We did sandwiches, sides, and a round of beer. It thanked us and said the food would be there shortly. I couldn’t resist wondering aloud what kind of life an AI in a restaurant would have. It was a mistake, provoking an expression from Karen that made clear she thought my mind had come loose. But she didn’t say anything, substituting instead a tolerant smile.
“I understand you had a continuing correspondence with Charlotte while she was at Octavia,” Alex said.
“Yes, I did. Though I thought of it more as occasional than continuing.”
“Did she ever say anything that indicated there was a problem of any sort?”
“Well, I think Charlotte got lonely sometimes. And they weren’t always happy with the menu they had. But no, I don’t recall anything that could have been connected with a hazard.”
“It’s possible, Karen, you could have picked up something without being aware of it. What kind of messages were you receiving? Were they visuals?”
“No. They were audio. It cost too much to send visuals. There were a couple, though, a picture of the space station that she took from the shuttle. And one of the station’s interior. Del Housman was posing with her and, umm, Archie Goldman in the background. Oh, and there was a picture of the black hole. More or less. I think she took that one from the shuttle too.”
“You mean Archie Womack,” Alex said.
“Yes. That’s right. Womack. Sorry.”
“Charlotte must have been pretty happy to have been selected for that mission.”
“I guess. She didn’t talk much about it. Mostly, I suspect, because for the first year or so, they didn’t get any results. It was only toward the end that they found the wormhole. I didn’t get the impression she was all that happy. She enjoyed having people around her. I was shocked when she first told me what she’d signed on for. I mean, she liked going out. She spent a fair amount of time on the beach. I never understood how she managed to get her degrees. Most of us have to invest a lot of time to accomplish what she did. I guess the reality is that she was just seriously smart. You know she was a pretty good chess player too, right?”
“We’ve heard,” Alex said.
The sandwiches showed up. Karen took a bite from hers and put it down. “She got pretty close to Rick Harding. He was a committed chess enthusiast too.”
“I hadn’t heard that,” I said. “Who usually won? Do you know?”
“She never mentioned the results. But if Harding was winning, he’s the only person I know who managed it. And I suspect if that had been happening, she’d have said something.”
“Did she ever indicate she was tired of being out there? That she would have liked to come home?”
“She implied it. But I don’t recall her ever actually saying that. I remember she talked sometimes about things she missed, guys, Tully’s, sunlight. About how nice it would be to have an occasional stranger show up and say hello.”
“What’s Tully’s?” Alex asked.
“It’s a bar located near the university. It was a good place to meet guys. In fact, that’s where I met my husband.”
Eventually the conversation wandered into other areas, Karen’s career doing PR work for the Andiquar police; her husband, who was an electronic technician; her infatuation with tennis; and finally Gabe. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like getting pulled out of the Capella and discovering that eleven years had passed.”
We finished our lunches, and Karen thanked us as Alex picked up the tab. “I know this hasn’t helped you,” she said. “I wish I could have given you something.”
Alex assured her she had. “You described her life on the station. The fact that she had no serious problems eliminates one area of inquiry. Did she ever mention Reggie Greene?”
“No. I knew the guy. And I know the stories about him. But she never brought him up.”
We left the restaurant and walked out into the parking lot. “There might be one other thing,” she said. “It’s so trivial I’ve been reluctant to mention it. At one point, Charlotte indicated there was something going on. She didn’t specify what it was. She said it would probably go away but that if it didn’t she’d send me details later. Either to me or to Poliks.”
“Who’s Poliks?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know anyone with that name.”
“Did she ever mention it again? The name?”
“No. Not that I can recall. ”
“Did you ever ask her for any details?”
“I think what I did later was tell her I hoped that it had cleared up. But I don’t recall her ever saying anything about it again.”
“So you never got the message?”
“No.”
“Karen,” Alex said, “do you remember when you received that message? How long was it before the station disappeared?”
“The one when she said there might be a problem? You don’t think it could have had anything to do with that, do you?”
“Probably not. But who knows?”
“Well, anyhow, I think we lost the place about a month later.”
“And you say it was audio? She was talking to you?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re not sure how to spell the name?”
“I guess not.”
“Are you aware of anybody Charlotte might know whose name sounds even remotely like ‘Poliks’?”
She needed a minute. “Poulter,” she said. “Erik Poulter.”
Alex thought about it and shook his head. “Anybody else?”
“Yes. There’s one other. Jules Colix.”
“You know both these people?”
“Colix was a chess player. One of the people she competed with. But he died a few years ago. Poulter was briefly a boyfriend. Though I don’t think it was ever serious.”
“Did you ever check with either one to see if they’d heard from her?”
“No. I never thought to do anything like that.”
“Okay, Karen. One more question, and we’ll let you go.”
“Sure.”
“Were you at all surprised that you never got the follow-up message, something explaining what it was all about?”
“Surprised? Sure. And disappointed.”
Alex asked me to do a search for Poliks and whatever variants I could think of. I started by looking for Charlotte’s avatar, which was established when she was about twelve years old but never updated. The avatar told me she’d never heard the name.
I checked names of adults around the planet and found just over two hundred. In three cases it was a given name. None had an obvious connection with Octavia, with Charlotte, or with anyone else involved with the station. Marion Poliks had attended the same grade school as Charlotte, but several years earlier. And Michael Poliks had invented several virtual war games. But that was a long way from chess.
I tracked Marion down. She hadn’t changed her name. She lived on Mayven Island, and when I talked with her, she told me she knew who Charlotte was because of her reputation, but had never met her.
“Okay.” Alex looked frustrated. “Maybe Poliks, whoever he is, lives on another planet.”
“If he does,” I said, “the connection would probably be through the Quantum Research Group or DPSAR. They’d have shown up on the net. I checked all kinds of variations, but I just couldn’t find anything.”
“Thank you, Chase. Poliks may not even be a person. Maybe it’s a club or a group of some kind.”
I went back to work and discovered a Poliks hotel chain, two restaurants, a type of truck, a species of lizard, six street names, a park, and a book title. The book was a biography of Roger Poliks, who had led a revolt against political corruption in Olconda two hundred years ago. So I switched to direction and looked for avatars. Housman did not have one. That left me with Womack.
• • •
“Call me Archie,” he said. “What can I do for you, Chase?”
Womack, at first glance, resembled our perception of the classic physicist, a guy so wrapped up in his subject that he has little interest in anything else. I was looking down at him, but I couldn’t be sure the avatar’s height was correct. Whatever the reality, I realized that he wasn’t trying to impress viewers with his physical appearance. He was corpulent, with iron-gray hair and brown eyes that seemed naturally intense.
“Archie, we’re trying to figure out what happened to the Octavia station.”
“Good luck to you. I’d like to see that resolved myself.”
“Does the word ‘Poliks’ mean anything to you?”
“You mean the star?”
“Pollux? Yes, that could be.”
“Pollux was visible from Octavia. But I don’t know of any connection. Why do you ask?”
“One of Charlotte’s messages said there was a problem of some sort, and if it didn’t get resolved, she would let Poliks know.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound as if she was talking about the star.”
“I understand that. Was there anyone connected with the mission named Poliks?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of.”
“Maybe an organization of some sort?”
“No, Chase. I’m sorry, but I’ve no idea what that could be about.”
“One more question?”
“Okay.”
“Why did you sign on for Octavia?”
“Are you serious? It was the biggest scientific project of the age. They were hoping to get a handle on the basic structure of the universe. We’ve been trying to do that for thousands of years. I’d have been crazy to pass on it.”
“Knowing what I know now? Of course not. But if it were a second chance? Then absolutely. It frustrates me to think that we had actually made some progress, had found the damned wormhole, and then . . .”
I could see the frustration in his eyes. It was one of the few times I’d spoken to an avatar and come away with the impression it had been the actual person.
• • •
We got a call later that day from the Arcadia Network. A young guy seated behind a desk looked up at me. “Hello. My name is Charles Hoskins. Is Alex Benedict available?”
Alex was asleep. He’d been reading about Housman and it put him out. “I’m sorry. We can’t reach him at the moment. Can I help you, Charles?”
“We just wanted to suggest he might be interested in watching The Bruce Colson Show this evening.”
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“I don’t have any details, ma’am. Just that his guest is Lashonda Walton.”
Walton had headed the search effort from the QRG when Octavia was lost. “Got it,” I said. “I’ll let him know.”
Alex’s alarm went off an hour later. There was an artifact auction that evening, where he was to represent three clients. The auction was scheduled to start at 8:00 p.m., same time as The Colson Show.
“Record it, Chase,” he said.
I set it up and spent most of what remained of the day talking with people who were putting antiquities on the market. Most of what we see tends to be of current minor value, though much of it has potential. It’s the basic problem with the business we’re in: We can look at lamps and dishware and artwork and know that, in another century, something will have gained some serious value. But it takes more time than we’re willing to put into it. Which is why we’re much more interested in objects that are recovered from a long-abandoned property. Or better yet, using the inclination that I’ve always suspected Alex picked up from Gabe, finding remnants of a lost civilization.
There was one standout offer. A woman called in with a two-hundred-year-old video from the early days of Chuck Orion, the fictional star-pilot hero who fought off all kinds of aliens, interstellar pirates, and human dictators. Chuck had gone on to fame in more than twenty novels and a series of feature-length movies. He was a centerpiece in my early years and one of several reasons I developed a passion for interstellar flight. But her price was unreasonable. I’d have declined had it been my call, but offers like that got passed on to Alex. He surprised me by putting it aside and telling me he’d think about it. “As far as I know,” he said, “this thing was supposed to be lost.”
• • •
Finally it was time to quit for the day. I’d set the HV to record The Colson Show. I checked with Gabe and Alex to make sure nobody needed anything. Gabe said he was going out for the evening to play some gordo with his buddies. Gordo, for anyone not familiar with Rimway card games, is a derivative from Earth. You get a hand of five cards and try to match cards or suits and possibly bluff opponents to bail out. Alex told me, as he usually does, to take care on the way home. He added that he hoped Professor Walton had come up with some new information about Octavia. “Maybe she knows somebody named Poliks.”
I stopped for dinner at Lenny’s and evaded a pickup from a guy I felt sorry for because he was so nervous. I got home, showered, changed into pajamas, read for a while, and, at eight, turned on the Arcadia Network.
Bruce Colson’s classic sofa blinked on in my living room, accompanied by the show’s theme music, Valmier’s “Rising Tide Nocturne.” The music implied that the show was of considerable significance. I’d never been one of his fans. He thought highly of himself and didn’t mind showing that inclination to his viewers. As the music revved up, he strode in through a side door and an invisible audience cheered and applauded. He responded with a giant smile and waved in my direction while the cheering continued.
“Hello, everybody,” he said. “Welcome to the show.” Colson did a few one-liners to get his audience into the right mood. Then the camera pulled back, two guests appeared, and the music faded out. They took seats at a table. Colson joined them and they exchanged jokes about politicians and celebrity scandals. In particular they went after a recent claim by a guy running for governor of Tolk City that persons born on Rimway had a higher IQ than people from other parts of the Confederacy, and that consequently intermarriage should be banned. I’d never heard of the guy before, but the claim had been around for a while. One of the guests commented that you didn’t often hear a political assertion like that.
“Why?” asked Colson.
“Because even for politics, it’s dumb.”
Eventually they got to the second half hour. After the commercials, Colson and his table reappeared. We got more music and cheers. He got up from the table and welcomed Lashonda Walton to enthusiastic applause. I hadn’t seen her since the tumultuous days following the disappearance of the station. She hadn’t changed. She was tall, disciplined, in charge. Not the sort of laid-back guest I’d have expected to see on The Colson Show. The host led her to a pair of armchairs, where they sat down facing each other.
“It’s good to see you again, Lashonda,” he said.
“It’s good to be here, Bruce. I think I needed a place to visit. One with friends.”
“You’re always welcome to drop by. May I ask what’s been happening? Why are we seeing a revival of interest in Octavia?”
“That does seem to be happening, doesn’t it?” She looked past him as if something were closing in on her. “Horton Cunningham will be out with a new book on the subject next month. I’m told a documentary is about to be released. Alex Benedict has launched a probe to try to find out what happened. And here I am talking about it on your show.”
“I can understand,” Colson said, “why, after all these years, it’s still painful, Lashonda. I know you’d like to see some answers.”
“Whatever happened out there, it should not have been possible, Bruce. I do not understand how we could possibly have lost that place. I have a lot of regrets in my life, we all do, but nothing on the order of that.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with it, Lashonda. Whatever it was about, it certainly wasn’t your fault.”
“That’s irrelevant, Bruce. As far as I know, you’re right. I wasn’t responsible. But we still don’t know what happened. And until we can answer that question, we can’t say anything for certain. Whatever it was, I was ultimately responsible for coming up with an answer. And I failed to do so. So yes, some of the blame lies with me.”
“Just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean you can control everything.”
She rearranged herself in her chair. And somehow managed to gain height. “I know. God knows I’m aware of that, Bruce. I just wish we could let it go. And I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. This is not about me. I realize that. But a lot of people, the families and friends of the Octavia team, are being dragged through this again. I know the people doing the investigations mean well, but we’d all be better off if they’d just back away from it. Let it go.”
“But don’t we need some closure? Are we ever going to get it if we just push it aside?”
“No. Of course not. But we’ve run out of options.”
“So you don’t think we’ll ever have an answer?”
“Bruce, there’s nothing left to examine that hasn’t already been picked apart time and again. If the station had survived, if some part of it had survived, then maybe we’d be able to put the thing together. But as it is, we’re looking at a vacuum.”
“Lashonda,” he said, “it’s been years since the wormhole breakthrough at Octavia. What good has it done us? Are we still doing research about those things?”
“Of course we are. And we’re planning to establish two other stations near black holes. One will be run from Saraglia, the other from Claridol. And you know we’ve been active for years at KBX44. The Octavia site.” She leaned forward in her chair and her eyes narrowed. “The research continues. We’re not giving up.”
“That’s good to hear. But none of that suggests you think there’s much chance of coming to a resolution.”
“Bruce, it’s complicated. What the Octavia mission accomplished was to show that wormholes exist. Yes, we lost four good people. And we may never learn why. But we’ve already gained some traction from their work. From their sacrifice. That’s what we want. Thanks to them, we should be able to resolve some cosmic questions that have been hanging over our heads for centuries.”
“Okay. But what good does it do us?”
“Eventually—I hope in my lifetime—it will allow us to find out whether this is the only universe, or whether we actually live in a multiverse. There are billions of galaxies. What we may learn is that, nevertheless, this is only an infinitesimal part of reality.”
“Okay. I’ve got that. And let’s say we do find out there is a whole horde of universes out there. Is it going to give us a capability to travel to these other places?”
“Maybe.”
“All right. Suppose it does. Let’s say we find that out. So what? This universe is more than big enough for us. It always will be. I mean, there’s no way we’re going to outgrow the Milky Way, let alone this universe. So why bother?”
“Bruce, developing a means to travel to another universe is irrelevant.”
“What do you mean?”
“The thing that’s of value is the knowledge. We’re still grappling with the nature of the cosmos. It would help to know whether our universe is alone. Or whether there are others. We might even discover the cosmos is infinite. That’s what blue sky science is all about.”
Colson sat quietly for a moment and then looked across the room at me. But he was speaking to Walton: “Back to Octavia for a minute: Do you put any stock in the alien story? That aliens somehow seized the station? Or pushed it into the black hole? Is that even possible?”
“Sure it’s possible. But it’s unlikely. The problem is, so is every other scenario I can think of.”
“The major question for me,” Colson said, “has always been that the incident occurred during the thirty hours when Octavia had no contact with Chippewa or us or anybody else. Whatever happened, that makes it sound like a result of careful planning. Not an accident.”
Walton nodded but otherwise did not respond.
“How long,” Colson asked, “did the entire orbit take?”
“Around the black hole? A hundred and forty-six days.”
“Could the station have been hit by an asteroid and knocked into the black hole?”
“They had equipment that would have either avoided the asteroid or turned it to dust.”
“I was struck by the theory—I don’t recall its source—that there’d been a group suicide.”
“That’s way off the charts, Bruce.”
Colson nodded. “I know. It sounds as if aliens are all we’re got left.”
“Or time travelers.”
• • •
Alex and Gabe watched it together later that evening. “No surprises there,” Alex told me next day. “I was hoping she might mention Poliks. I called her this morning and told her what Karen Randall had said. But she had no idea what Charlotte might have been talking about.”