“Yeah. Congratulations.”
“Actually, there is something more.”
“What's that?”
“They're splitting the award this year.”
“Oh.” That had never happened before. “How could they do that?” I asked.
“Don't know. These things just happen, I guess.”
“Who else is getting it?”
“You are, Chase. Congratulations.”
Later, considerably later, I learned that Alex had insisted that the DiPreta Committee recognize me also. He tried to keep it from me but I'm too good at tracking down secrets.
I've spent too many years watching a pro at work.
FOURTEEN
Reputation is like youth. Once it's gone, it cannot be recovered.
I spent most of my first day back touching base with clients and catching up on the market. That evening, I was getting ready to go home when Alex called again, from his compartment on the glide train. “They haven't changed their minds about the award?” I said.
“Not that I'm aware. Though maybe we can arrange it if you think you don't deserve it.”
“No. I'll stick it out. What do you have?”
“I found something else of interest. I'm forwarding it now.”
Jacob put it on the display:
Triflis 1/12 4017
Abonai 7/11 4113
Grand Salinas 9/3 5396
Inaissa 1/16 6301
Saraglia 8/5 7661
Ilyanda 10/10 8377
Vendicari 12/22 9017
Earth 3/17 9638
Inaissa 2/9 9684
Fishbowl 5/18 10312
Pt. Edward 5/30 11107
Sanusar 7/1 11267
Tippimaru 4/13 11272
“It's from Winter's notebooks. No accompanying explanation.”
They were Confederate worlds. Four of them were uninhabited. The dates were in the base system. The current year, on Earth, was 11,321 C.E. And I saw at once that the last two entries coincided with sightings.
“Those aren't the only two, Chase. The Point Edward, Fishbowl, and Inaissa dates also mark sighting occurrences. There was something near Earth on March 17, 9638, although I haven't been able to find details. I don't think there's any question these all mark Sanusar events.”
“So Winter was collecting information on sightings over the past, what, seven thousand years? That must have taken some major digging.”
“I'd think so.”
“Alex, wait. With that kind of time span, it's inevitable that occasionally a ship would wander in accidentally to a place where it wasn't expected. A lot of these would have to be false alarms.”
“I know. Probably most of them.”
“So why do we care?”
“Maybe because on two occasions Robin showed up in advance.”
“But not at Tippimaru.”
“Maybe he didn't know that one was coming. Maybe it was somebody who just wandered in. But the point is that Winter was collecting the data.”
“Alex, I have no idea what's going on.”
“There's something else you might be interested in.”
“What's that?”
“It doesn't have anything to do with the sightings, but Winter and Robin shared another interest: black holes. Winter has a list of them, about twenty, with their locations and their trajectories.”
“Alex, what could that have to do with the Sanusar events?”
It turned into a fairly raucous day. One client claimed we'd promised to get the pilot's seat from the Seeker for him. It's our policy to put clients in touch with one another. We don't commit to do any more than that, except in those relatively rare situations in which we actually own the desired artifact. The client hadn't been able to persuade the owner to sell, despite making offers that, I thought, were far more than the seat should have been worth. He was threatening to sue us, and I spent a large part of the morning trying to calm him down. The last thing he said to me was that he'd forget the suit, but he'd find another dealer since he couldn't trust us anymore.
And there was Miranda Shelton. “I think I found an alien ship,” she told me.
Miranda was one of those people who look absolutely bland. No energy animated her features. She was middle-aged. Average appearance. Bored and boring. The kind of person who, five minutes after meeting her, you would not have been able to pick her out of a lineup if your life depended on it. She showed up unexpectedly at the country house and wanted to talk with Alex.
“He's not here,” I said.
“Can I talk to you?”
I showed her to a chair. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
“I have an unusual problem,” she said.
“I'm listening.”
“I found an alien.” My stomach started to tighten. “I'm a pilot for TransWorld,” she explained. She did not look at all like a pilot. Or like anyone who did anything other than sit on a front porch.
“Okay.”
“I was carrying some biologists to a site in one of the systems-”
“Which system?”
“I'll tell you in a minute. The point is that I found a derelict. It was in orbit around one of the moons.”
“Really?”
“I ran images of it. There's no record of anything like it. I think it might be alien.”
“Why?”
“Because I can't identify it. Aren't you listening?”
“Ms. Shelton, there are quite a few derelicts drifting around out there. A lot of them don't show up in the inventories. They're too old. The records have been lost.”
“That could be true,” she said. “On the other hand, who really knows?”
“You'll want to take a closer look.”
“Ms. Kolpath, my contract gives all recovery rights to my employer.”
“I see. So what are you going to do?”
“I plan to resign, wait awhile, then pursue the matter.”
