The hurricane wiped out our power for three weeks. The modification system is supposed to be proof against storms, and it was the first time in living memory it had gone down. It left me realizing how many things we take for granted. Indoor bathroom facilities. Quick cures for virtually every illness. Not having to work for a living. Lights. Food that simply arrives when you want it.
—JOSEPH CALKIN, LETTER TO THE HARMONY TIMES, 1311
The Chippewa registry had shown only one Royce Poliks on the planet. Alex had sent a message explaining that he was researching the loss of Octavia and asking whether a discussion via hypercomm could be arranged. The message came back a month later marked “addressee unavailable.” “This feels like a colossal waste of time,” he said. “But I guess we don’t have much choice.” That same afternoon we were on our way in the Belle-Marie. Three days later we arrived at Ventnor, Chippewa’s space station.
Chippewa was one of the early colony worlds. It was originally claimed by people who were unhappy with life on Earth. They didn’t like authority, whether it was political or religious or whatever, and they were determined to keep it at a distance. Consequently, Chippewa still has not become home to big cities and large populations. It is basically a world devoted to country life, to hilltop cottages and small towns. It’s a place where people enjoy mountain climbing, walking in the rain, and sitting on their front porches where they feel almost a camaraderie with the trees. The trees, one of them once explained to me, are alive, just as the inhabitants of the towns are. When you wander through the woods, the residents claim, you are not really alone.
I’ve never completely grasped that perspective but I’ve been there a few times and seen its effects. This is not a place where people sit in their homes and watch their HVs endlessly into the night. They spend time with their neighbors, live lives of ongoing leisure, and consider themselves the smartest people in the Confederacy. Like everyone else, they have a guaranteed income. I’ve never seen anyone there who has shown an appetite for wealth. I suspect that a person who displayed that tendency would not have been welcome.
Ventnor is probably the smallest space station on any of the major human worlds. We located Poliks in Gavindale, which stood on the edge of a mountain chain in the center of the only continent on the planet. The station had only two shuttles and we’d have had to wait four days to get the flight down to Kassel, which was the only spaceport anywhere close to Gavindale. So we applied for permission to use our lander. Fortunately they didn’t charge much. We connected Belle with a map in the welcome center, waited a half hour for the station to reach a favorable position, and launched.
We were on the night side when we started down. Belle told me we could expect to arrive at Gavindale shortly after midnight local time. There was no point in showing up at Poliks’s home in the middle of the night, so we made for the nearby terminal at Carbon City. Chippewa has a pair of moons, but neither was visible. We descended through clear skies. There were a few scattered lights on the ground, though not the bright patches one usually sees on the night side of a major world. These were relatively dim and distributed through the darkness. Belle informed us there’d be a slight delay while an aircraft landed. We watched it go down, and then we followed and touched down a short distance away. We got sleeping accommodations at the port, and in the morning flew the lander into Gavindale and arrived in a field just west of Poliks’s place. It was a two-story chalet at the foot of a low hill.
There were several other homes nearby. The grounds were well kept, and a couple of boys were playing on a slide. We got out of the lander and proceeded along a walkway onto a front porch. The door opened as we arrived and a small woman looked out at us. She had brown hair and carried a bucket, which she placed outside the door while she stared at us in surprise. “Hello,” she said. “We don’t see many strangers around here.”
“Hi,” said Alex. “My name is Alex Benedict. Does Royce Poliks live here?”
“Yes, he does.”
“We’re doing research on the loss of the Octavia station and I was hoping to talk with him.”
She couldn’t resist sighing. “He’s not here right now.”
Inside, two kids were talking, probably with AIs. Both were girls. One was doing math. The other was playing a game.
“But he does live here?” said Alex.
“That’s correct. Are you the person who was sending mail recently? Asking to communicate with him by hypercomm?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but he’s just not here now. Won’t be for probably a few weeks.”
“Can you tell me where he is?”
She came outside and pulled the door shut behind her. “Mr. Benedict, I’m sorry. But we’ve had enough about Octavia. I don’t know how many times he’s been interviewed by people trying to find out what happened. It’s always the same story, and they always ask the same questions. Asking him how he felt when they all got lost. Whether he thought nobody should have gone near the black hole. Maybe you should go interview them.”
“I’m sorry to inconvenience you, Ms. Poliks. Am I correct? You are his wife?”
“I’m Kala. His niece.”
“We’ve come all the way out from Rimway.”
“I’m sorry about your inconvenience.” She glanced in my direction, let me see her annoyance, and returned her attention to Alex. “We’ve just had enough. This thing has been going on for, I don’t know, years now. Since before I started living here. We’d just like it to go away. There’s nothing new we can add.”
“Kala, was your uncle here when my message came?”
“No, he wasn’t. But he wouldn’t have answered it either. I’m sorry. I guess I should have saved you the trip. But it’s just been so hard to live with.”
The door opened slightly and one of the girls peeked out. She was about eight, with the woman’s brown hair and bright amber eyes. She looked at Alex and then at me.
“Hi,” I said. The girl smiled. Kala looked at me and her features softened slightly.
“It’s possible,” Alex said, “that your uncle knows something that would be helpful but isn’t aware of it.”
“Oh, please,” she said. “Give it a rest.”
Alex managed to look sympathetic. “I understand you’re not happy with this, but we just don’t have many options. Is he really not here? Or are you protecting him?”
“He’s not here.”
“Could you give me a way to get in touch with him?”
“I can’t do that,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She pushed back inside the door, taking the girl with her. The child waved good-bye, and the door closed.
• • •
“We need the datanet,” said Alex as we walked back to the lander. We got in and asked Belle for access to the local system. Then we gave it Poliks’s name. “Is there any indication where he is now?”
“I do not have that information,” it said.
“Who is his employer?”
“Mr. Poliks is not formally employed. He does occasional contract work.”
“Can you identify the person or corporation he’s most recently assisted?”
“Orion Express.”
“But you have no idea where he is now?”
“That is correct.”
“Orion Express has an office here somewhere, right?”
“There are two. One in Desmond, the other on Ventnor, the space station.”
“Where is Desmond?”
“It’s located just west of Arbuckel. Only eight hundred kilometers from your present location.” It put a map on the display.
“What time is it there? In Desmond?”
“An hour earlier than it is where you are. A few minutes after ten.”
“Please connect me.”
We listened while it rang. Someone picked up. “Orion Express.” A woman’s voice. “How may I help you?”
“Hello. My name is Benedict. I’m trying to locate Royce Poliks. He’s a contract engineer. I think he’s currently working on one of your projects.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Benedict, but we don’t give that kind of information out. I suggest you contact him through his local registry.”
“Can you tell me if he’s actually working on a project now?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m not free to do that. Is there anything else?”
• • •
Alex switched back to the datanet. “Can you tell me what kind of work Poliks does?”
We received several pages of data regarding past projects. Poliks specialized in designing and constructing living quarters for interstellars, space stations, and other offworld accommodations. He’d helped put together the interior of the Octavia and also the control center on the cannon.
“Has Orion Express begun working on any recent projects?” he asked.
“They are planning to send hunting expeditions to Tiara III. The program is expected to launch in two months.”
“What kind of animals will they be looking for?”
“Giant lizards. Dinosaurs. Anything like that.”
Alex took a deep breath and started again: “What other projects are there?”
“They’re planning tours to Moranda.” Moranda was the one human world where things had gone terribly wrong. It was, at the height of its glory in the eighth millennium, considered the most advanced civilization in the known cosmos. But they suffered a revolution, the government broke down, violence erupted all over the planet, and millions died. It was the worst catastrophe on any human world.
“It’s been a gold mine for archeologists,” said Alex. “I’ve been there a couple of times. They’ve put everything back together. The architecture is incredible. And there are all kinds of legends about what’s been lost in various places. ”
“So I’ve heard.” He gave me that curious frown. “When were you there, Alex?”
“When I was a teen. I went with Gabe.”
“There are two other projects of which I’m aware,” said the datanet. “A large moon orbits a gas giant in the Aldebaran system. The moon is bigger than Chippewa, part of a huge system of rings and satellites. But it has fallen out of orbit and is being pulled into the gas giant, which will swallow it in approximately a quarter century. Orion Express is building a hotel on the moon for tourists. Projected name for it is the End Times Hotel.”
“Why would anyone want to go there?” I asked.
“I suspect they’ll fill the place,” said Alex. “People love seeing worlds get destroyed.”
“They are also planning flights into the Trapezium, where they claim there’s a chance tourists might see a star born.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said.
“Well,” said Alex, “if they set it up right, they might get to see part of the process. Enough of it to send them home happy.”
“Okay. So which one do they want Poliks for?”
“I suspect the End Times Hotel.” He hesitated. “That sounds like the perfect place for an engineer who specializes in living quarters.”