Dot Garber called me to say she'd be making the flight personally. Two days before we were to leave in pursuit of the Antares, Shara, Alex, and I met on Skydeck with her, with the pilots from Prescott and Orion, and with the various other pilots who would be accompanying us. Dot had already briefed everybody, but Alex wanted to get to know them before we launched. Also present was Dot's daughter Melissa, who would be riding along.
The meeting took place in the Sagittarius Room at the Starlight Hotel. Drinks and hors d'oeuvres were served, while Alex wandered around, shaking hands and exchanging small talk.
I'd known one of the independents for years. He was Michael Anderson, a newly retired Fleet officer. Michael had been involved in some of the skirmishes with the Mutes and had been aboard the Cameron two years earlier during the engagement off the Spinners, which had almost brought the peace process down. It's still unclear who fired the first shots, but the Cameron was severely damaged, and eleven of its crew lost their lives. “They say it's over now,” he'd commented to me the last time I'd talked with him, “but I'll believe it when I see it.”
Representing the Fleury Initiative was Jon Richter, tall, lanky, very serious, and newly licensed.
Allie Svoboda attended for Prescott. Allie was a middle-aged, strictly business brunette, who commented that she enjoyed crazy missions, and she'd never heard of anything crazier than this one. “By the way,” she asked in a quasi-serious tone, “was there any truth to the rumor that we weren't really looking for a ship from the past, but one from another universe?”
Cal Bickley worked for Orion. He was a grumpy-looking guy who made no secret of his belief that there'd been a misunderstanding somewhere, and nothing would come of the mission, but his bosses said do it. So, of course, he would. I liked him in spite of his attitude, and I let him see that I'd be available eventually. Maybe.
That turned out to be a pointless gesture since he wasted no time trying to move in on Shara. Cal, I found out later, was the only one of the lead pilots who had not invited someone to ride with him.
Shara actually looked as if she were considering traveling in his ship, but she must have decided the move would have been a bit too public. Anyhow, she was probably reluctant to be caught alone in the narrow confines of a yacht named the Jubilant with a strange male. So, to his obvious disappointment, she backed away.
Lynda and Paul Kaczmarek had their own yacht and simply enjoyed interworld travel and sightseeing. It was, Linda explained to me, what they did. Both were pilots. And, as far as I could determine, neither was employed. They were both enamored of the possibilities that attended the mission. “I hope you guys have it right,” she told me. “I would kill to be in on something like that. Though I have to tell you, I just can't believe it's actually possible.”
After a half hour or so, Alex asked everyone to be seated, and we closed the doors. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I know that Dot has already told you what we hope to do on this mission. I can't help noticing that a few of you are a trifle skeptical. And I don't blame you. But you've offered to help anyhow, and I want you to know we appreciate that. Without you, there'd be very little chance of success. Now, so you don't conclude that we're completely delirious, let me show you the evidence.”
Alex had asked me to narrate this part of the program on the theory that the audience would trust another pilot more than someone viewed as an outsider. So I took my place stage center as the room darkened, and the stars appeared. I explained how we'd gotten on the track of the Alpha Object. “I'll confess,” I said, “that I didn't really believe we were going to find something that appears every couple of centuries. That surfaces periodically with survivors still on board. But we did find it.”
We started the clips we'd shown around when we were trying to enlist StarCorps, Survey, and the politicians. The audience in the Sagittarius Room, I'm happy to say, was more receptive.
When they heard the voice coming over the radio, speaking in that strange language, the room went dead silent. And then Belle's translation. Help us.
Code five.
They saw the ship, the unfamiliar design, the lights in the ports.
And, finally, the ship fading away.
The lights in the Sagittarius Room came on, but the audience sat stunned.
“When will they be back?” asked Linda.
“In the fall of 1612. One hundred seventy-eight years. It might come back in eighty-nine years. Or forty-four and a half. No way to be sure.”
I've never seen an audience so frozen. They sat and stared at me. Nobody moved.
Alex came over. “Thank you, Chase,” he said. “Ladies and gentlemen, now you see what we're dealing with.” He paused and looked around the room. “Let's talk about the Antares Object. We can't be positive of its precise time of arrival, although we're pretty sure we have it down to within a few days. We also can't be certain of the exact place it will show up. But we have the neighborhood pinpointed. It's essential that everybody keep in mind that it's caught in a time warp. That means it could submerge again without warning.”
A hand went up. Allie. “Alex, do we have a reading on how long it will stay with us? Before that happens? What's the term? Submergesr”'
“Yes, Allie. Possibly as long as six hours. More likely, about five. Because of the uncertainty, we want to caution you about boarding. We just can't be sure about anything. And the situation becomes even more doubtful since we are not likely to know how long it will have been in place. Your primary job is to find it and let us know where it is.”
One of the pilots I didn't know raised a hand. “And you're going to do the rescue?”
“That's the plan. Assuming there are passengers, we'll want you to approach with your landers and stand by. We'll be stocking each lander with additional pressure suits. Chase and I will attempt to board. If there is anyone in there, we'll try to get them to the landers as quickly as we can. We want you to stay clear. If the thing submerges, we don't know the size of the surrounding area that will be dragged under with it. Maybe it won't affect the surroundings at all. But we're assuming the worst.
“That means there is a risk. It's possible that, if it submerges, and you're nearby, you'll be dragged along with it. I wish we knew more about this, but that's our situation. So if anyone wants to rethink this, we'll understand.”
Cal looked unhappy. “You might not be able to get there in time. There's less risk to everybody if whoever finds it first boards it and starts the extraction. The others can help as they arrive.”
Alex looked around the room. The others were nodding in agreement. “He's right, Alex,” said Allie.
“Absolutely,” said Dot.
And so it went, until Alex raised both hands. “Hold it a second. Look, we don't want to lose any of you-”
“Too late now,” said Paul Kaczmarek. “First one there starts the extraction, right?”
Every hand in the place went up.
Dot was standing beside Cal. “Do we know when this thing will surface again? If we miss it this time?”
Alex let Shara answer. “Sixty-seven years,” she said.
“What kind of ship is this?” asked Michael. “Have we been able to identify it?”
“Negative.”
“It's too old?”
“That's what we think, yes.”
And it's still under power?”
“Yes.”
“My God,” said Cal, “you mean this thing might be seven thousand years old?”
“Yes.”
Dot smiled. Beatific. Beautiful. What a marvelous universe we live in.
“Any more questions?”
One more. From Linda: “Alex, you've described these black-hole tracks. If I understand what you're saying, you get in trouble if you try to initiate a jump while you're sitting in one.”
“That's correct,” said Alex.
“When we start back from the target area, we'll be right in the middle of it. Isn't there a possibility that one of us will get caught?”
Alex passed it to Shara. “Let me start,” she said, “by admitting we don't have everything down yet. But we're
