“So how many ships do we need?” asked Alex.
“We'd have a decent chance with, oh, I don't know, maybe twelve.”
“How many to lock it in?”
“You mean board it?”
“Yes.”
“Depends how long we'll have before it goes back.”
“We don't know how long we'll have access with this one, either?”
“Nobody ever got a real good look. Longest recorded time for it to remain surfaced was two hours and eight minutes.”
“That's not very good.”
“No.”
“But it could be longer?”
“It could be six weeks, but I suspect it'll be closer to a few hours.”
“Okay. So how many ships?”
She drew some circles on a pad. “Twenty would be good.”
Alex looked at me. Made a face. “Okay. I guess that doesn't come as a surprise.”
“Even with twenty,” Shara said, “we still have a problem-”
“I know.” Alex shook his head. “No matter how we try to play this, the Belle-Marie will have trouble getting to it before it submerges.”
“That's correct.”
“I don't like having to ask somebody else to board it and run the rescue.”
“There's really no way around that.”
Alex sat silently and stared out at the Veiled Lady.
“It's time to try StarCorps,” I said. “They should take it on. Doing rescues is their job.”
Alex nodded. “I hope so. But I'm not excited about asking them for a couple of squadrons.”
“They'll be happy to help,” said Shara.
“I hope so.” He looked at her. “How long has it been since the Antares's most recent appearance?”
“The last one we know of was sixty-seven years ago. Before that, it seems to have shown up near Barilon III. That was more than seven centuries earlier. If we track it back far enough, it looks as if the ship came from Brandizi.”
I was puzzled. “You said it originated during the fourth millennium?”
“Yes.”
“Brandizi didn't even exist then, I don't think.”
Alex shook his head. “Not as much of a political entity. It was an outpost in those days.”
On our approach to Rimway, we heard that two StarCorps vessels were patrolling near Villanueva, chasing off anybody who got too close. There'd been three more fatalities, one on the ground and two in a lander, which had exploded while taking off. The assumption was that they'd attempted to rescue an AI that turned out to be booby- trapped.
“It couldn't have been an AI,” said Belle.
“Why not?” Shara asked.
“No Beta would deliberately destroy itself.”
“How do you know?”
“It's irrational.”
News shows were playing simulations showing the lander lifting off, ascending a few hundred meters, and exploding, scattering debris across the open fields below. A representative from StarCorps announced that the loss of life “in this misbegotten cause is insupportable.”
A Survey spokesperson decried the rescue efforts, calling them lunacy, and suggesting that those who were encouraging the would-be rescuers should have their minds wiped. “What's happening now,” he said, “isn't just a matter of somebody's trying to cash in by bringing back a valuable artifact. And it's not even a case of generous, courageous people trying to rescue machines that they think are actually alive. What's going on at this point, unfortunately, is that young idiots see this as a way to demonstrate their manhood.”
There was a flurry of outraged responses pointing out that women were also involved in the attempts.
Shara recognized the representative as Chang Hao, with whom she'd had some personal dealings. “He's a good guy,” she said. “Most of the time.”
“There's another risk to all this,” said Worldwide's Deryk Cutler, “that no one has mentioned. We haven't paid much attention to Villanueva because it's never posed a threat. Except to those who decided to vacation there.” A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. “But we may be providing a means for malfunctioning AIs to ship objects back to us. I know this will sound paranoid to some, but a little caution will cost us nothing. Let's not wait until we're faced with fatalities at home. I urge that we institute inspections of any ship returning from Villanueva. I mean, what really brought down that lander? If it was a bomb, it strikes me that their next step would be to allow us to bring a few of them back here, where they can cause even greater damage. Maybe they'll wait until we've delivered several hundred into places throughout the Confederacy and set them off simultaneously. What a demonstration that would be.”
Alex was sitting beside me. He grumbled something, released his restraints, and stood. “It's great to be back.”
On our first day home, Shara, Alex, and I went to see Kareem Hawkley in his office at StarCorps. Kareem was the assistant director of operations in the Rimway sector, and he was also a member of the Antiquarian Guild, which was how we came to know him. He knew we were coming, and he had assumed we were there to push him about StarCorps policy regarding Villanueva. That would have been useless, since he had no control over policy decisions of that magnitude. He was surprised and visibly relieved when the conversation went in another direction. “Unidentified ships?” he said. “You've been out chasing vehicles that wander in and out of systems without identifying themselves? Hey, guys, it happens all the time.” His gaze moved from Alex and Shara to me, and his eyes told me he thought that I, at least, should have known better.
“It wasn't just somebody wandering around,” said Shara. “We were able to predict the arrival, and we have pictures. The ship is lost. And it has passengers on board.”
“Okay,” he said, as if we were going to present him with a stamp collection. “Show me what you have.” Kareem was tall, handsome in a stilted way, with dark hair and brown skin. He was amiable, self-effacing, but he wasn't the sort of guy who'd be willing to take a plunge on a wild story.
We showed him the images of the Alpha. A cursor moving among the stars. Gradually changing into a ship. With lights on. Then the desperate radio communications, complete with Belle's translations.
“Why can't I understand what they're saying?” he asked.
Alex took a deep breath and explained as best he could. Lost for two thousand years. Speaking Standard as it was spoken in ancient Cormoral. Think of it as a tunnel through time and space.
The office was big, and it looked out across Constitution Square. The walls were covered with pictures of patrol boats and decorated officers shaking hands with, or simply standing next to, Kareem.
His eyes narrowed as he listened. He asked a couple of questions. How did we stumble onto this? Did we actually see anyone? How can people who left on a flight that long ago possibly be alive? Is there anyone else who can support these claims?
Shara jumped in to help with the responses. Throughout the entire conversation, Kareem was nodding, yes, yes, of course, but something in his eyes told me that it was really yes, yes, this is off-the-wall we can't do this.
Eventually, when they'd finished, Kareem leaned back in his chair. “You say this occurred where?”
Shara showed him.
“That's well outside our jurisdiction,” he said.
“It's outside anyone's jurisdiction.”
“Unfortunately, that's correct.”
“Kareem, please don't back away from this. We need the Corps.”
“Can you guarantee that, if we send some units out there, this, ah, Antares will actually show up?”
“Unfortunately, we can't guarantee it,” said Alex, “but Alpha arrived on schedule.”
