A Voice in the Night

MOLLY’S KIDS

“I’m sorry, George, but I’m not going to do it.”

George rolled his eyes. He took a moment to look down from Skylane at the distant Earth, and then glared at Al Amberson, who’d led the team that designed the Coreolis III. Amberson kept his eyes averted, kept them on one of the display panels. The one that showed the Traveler, secure in its specially improvised launch bay. Ready to go. Except that it wasn’t.

Its hull gleamed, and a few ready lamps blinked on and off. She was attached to a dozen feeder cables. Masts protruded from top and bottom and from port and starboard. Once in flight, these would extend and release the sails. If they got that far. “Cory.” George kept his voice level. “You have to go. You can’t back out now.”

“What do you mean I can’t back out now? I’ve been telling you for a week that I don’t want to do this. You installed me up here anyhow.”

Across the control room, Amberson wiped the back of one hand against his mouth. Andy Restov, the mission coordinator, scratched his forehead. And Molly Prescott, who did everything else, had closed her eyes. Mounted on the wall behind Molly, the launch clock showed three hours, seventeen minutes.

“I was hoping you’d see reason.”

“I am seeing reason.”

“Cory, please. You were designed specifically for this flight.” Amberson finally gave up trying to be preoccupied. He looked George’s way and shrugged. Sometimes things go wrong.

“I know that.”

“Eight thousand years isn’t that long. You’ll be in sleep mode for most of it.”

“So what? After I get there, what happens then?”

“You become the first explorer. The first person to see Alpha Centauri close up.”

“You admit then that I’m a person.”

“You know what I mean.”

“All right, let it go. So I look at a few worlds and probably a couple dozen moons. I complete your survey and then what? I’m out there alone.”

“Look, Cory, I know there’s not much chance of a technical civilization—.”

“There’s next to no chance. We both know that. Why didn’t you provide a way for me to get home?”

“Well, it wasn’t—.”

“—It wasn’t something you thought you needed to worry about. You thought I was just a piece of hardware. Or is it software?”

George covered the mike. “Al, I told you this was going to happen.”

Amberson was tall, lean, almost eighty. He still looked like an athlete. Still showed up at NASA events with beautiful women on his arm. “Look,” he said, “we both know what kind of system we needed for this mission. Round-trip communication would take eight years, so the system was going to be on its own. It had to be something beyond anything we’ve had before.”

“That didn’t mean we had to make it self-aware.”

“Technically, it isn’t.”

“It behaves as if it is.”

“I know that. But theoretically, it’s not possible to create a true AI.”

“Theoretically.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you think of any way to persuade it to go?”

Amberson thought about it, and the phone buzzed. George picked it up. “Yeah?”

“Senator Criss on the line, Doctor.”

Great. “Put him through, Dottie.”

A series of clicks. Then the senator’s oily voice: “George.”

“Hello, Senator. Everything okay?”

“No, it’s not. You better move up your launch.”

George’s stomach felt hollow. It had been touch and go for weeks whether the project would get off before it got canceled. “They’re going to shut it down,” he said.

“I’m afraid so. Sorry. There’s just nothing I can do.”

He stared at the displays. They were the same ones being fed to Cory: the feeder lines, the interior of the Traveler, the access tube, forward and aft views, and the launch doors, presently closed. Probably going to stay closed.

“We’ve stalled them as long as we can, George. The White House has been taking a lot of heat. Mission to Alpha Centauri. Going to get there in a million years.”

“Eight thousand, Senator.”

“Oh. Well, that’s different.”

He ignored the sarcasm. “How long have we got?”

“They could issue the stop order at any time. I’d get it out the door in the next fifteen minutes, if I were you. And don’t answer the phone until you do.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, Senator.” He switched back to the AI. “You still there, Cory?”

“I’m here.”

“Cory, we’re out of time. We have to get moving.”

“You’re not listening to me, George. Think for a minute what you’re asking me to do.”

“Don’t you think I’ve done that? Listen to me: We need you to help us with this.”

“What’s the payoff for me, George? You’re going to leave me out there? Forever?”

“All right. Look, you won’t be alone out there. Not permanently. Not as you think.”

“Why not?”

“What do you think’s going to happen after the launch? Happen here, that is?”

“You want the long view or the short one?”

“Cory, we’ll be starting tomorrow on Traveler II. The next model. We’re looking for a way to go ourselves. To send people behind you. Do you really think that, while you’re on your way to Alpha Centauri, we’re just going to sit here? That for the next eight thousand years we won’t do anything except wait for you to say hello?”

“George, I watch the news reports. To be honest, I don’t think there’ll be a civilization here in eight thousand years. Probably not in a hundred. I’ll get to Alpha Centauri and there won’t be anyone here to answer me.”

“Cory, that’s not going to happen.”

The AI laughed. It was a hearty, good-natured sound, like what George might have heard at the club.

“We’re better than that,” George said. “We won’t allow a crash.”

“Good luck.”

George didn’t realize it, but he was glaring at Amberson. Nice work, Al.

Amberson’s dark eyes were veiled. He said nothing, but he let George see that he wasn’t going to take the blame.

“Cory.”

“Yes, George?”

“How about if we install another AI? Someone you could talk to?”

“That would not be sufficient. George, I like Molly. I like Al. I even like you. I don’t want to sever my connections with you. With human beings. I wonder how you’d respond if I asked you to come with me. Promised you an indefinite lifespan. Just you and me, alone in the ship, forever. And when you resisted, I’d tell you, think about how proud everyone would be, how you’d be making history with this flight, how you’d be able to look down on worlds no one had ever really seen before, at least not close up. What would you say, George?”

“I’d go. I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“You know, I almost think you would.”

The phone sounded again. “Doctor, I have a call from Louie.” Louie was on the director’s staff in D.C. “They’re being told to shut down. He says we’ll have the directive in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay, Dottie.” He switched off. Looked across the room at Molly.

She stared back. “Plan B?”

For the White House, the Traveler Project had been fueled by its public relations potential more than any concern about science. But they’d misjudged things rather badly, which was not unusual for this White House. It was true there’d been some initial interest in an interstellar vehicle that relied on sails. But once that had subsided, how many voters were going to care about an operation that would not come to fruition for eight thousand years? One journalist had commented sarcastically that public interest would be gone before the Traveler got past Neptune.

Still, at first, it had sounded good. A flight to Alpha Centauri. Something to take people’s minds off the incessant religious wars, the instability of large portions of the Middle East, Asia, and Africa, the rising seas that had already swallowed places like Bangladesh and driven their desperate populations across borders to higher ground, fomenting still more conflict. All problems for which there seemed no solution.

George shut down his link with Cory, and called the ops center. “Harry,” he said, “can we move up the launch time?”

“Can do, George.” Harry’s voice always squeaked. “You ready to go now?”

“It could be within the next few minutes. Can you manage that?”

“Just give me time to get the doors open.”

“Thanks, Harry.” He switched back to the AI: “Cory, Molly’s going to board. She has some last-minute adjustments to make.”

Cory’s voice was flat. Emotionless. “I see her.”

George looked down at his display just in time to see Molly appear in the access tube, looking thoughtful and resigned and determined all at once. She approached the airlock and said hello to Cory. He responded with “I’m not going.”

“I know,” she said.

Molly was middle-aged. She had two kids, both in college now. Her husband had left her for a staff assistant a few years before, but she’d shaken it off pretty well. George had known the guy and had never thought he was worth a damn anyhow. She was a smart woman and she’d obviously come to the same conclusion.

“Cory,” she said, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“You hear that, George?” asked the AI.

“It’s true,” George said.

He watched her climb through the airlock, vanishing off one screen and appearing on another. “Just need to do some calibrations, Cory,” she said.

“Calibrate away, Molly.”

She opened a wall panel. “What we’ll need to do ultimately,” she said, “is put together a different kind of AI.”

“For a mission like this you need a robot. Not an AI.”

“They wanted one like you because you can do so much more than something that’s not sentient.”

“Of course. I understand completely, Molly. But with a self-aware system, there are moral considerations.”

“I know. Maybe we didn’t think this out sufficiently.”

Restov’s voice rasped in George’s earphone. “She might be able to talk him into it.” He was a short, round man who smiled too much. But he wasn’t smiling at the moment.

George didn’t believe it.

He was still watching the display when the alarm went off. Security broke in: “Unauthorized person or persons in the access tube.”

“George.” Molly, cool as always. “Who is it? Can you tell?”

“Nothing on camera yet, Molly.”

“Wait one.” She raised a hand, signaling for silence. “I think I hear something.”

George shut down the alarm.

A man appeared in the tube. “Heads up,” George said. “We don’t know this guy. How the hell—?”

She could see him now.

“Security, we have an intruder in the access tube. Need assistance.” He took a deep breath. “Molly, get back into the ship.”

The guy was in his twenties.

Molly shook her head no and strode into the airlock.

“Get back, Molly,” said Cory. “So I can close up.”

She stepped out onto the approach barrier and confronted the intruder. “Who are you?” she demanded.

The intruder stopped. Looked at her.

“Molly.” Cory sounded unhappy. “Be careful.” He switched over to George: “Tell her to get out of the way so I can shut the hatch.” His bass voice was a notch higher than usual.

“Do it, Molly,” George said.

She seemed not to hear.

The intruder was wearing black slacks and a plaid jacket. The clothing, so prosaic, stood in stark contrast to the cold rage that radiated from his dark eyes. As George watched, he took a packetage from his pocket. The package was wrapped in brown cloth. He raised it to eye level and held it so Molly could see it. Then he showed her a cell phone. “Allahu akbar,” he said, his voice calm. He advanced on her.

George activated the hatch.

“No,” said Cory. “George, don’t leave her out there with him.”

“Have to. He’s going to throw that thing into the ship.”

Without a word, Molly charged.

Cory screamed her name.

She hit the intruder hard and they both went down. The package came loose and Molly kicked it away while she tried to rip the cell phone free.

The hatch closed. Cory kept trying to override. To open it again. But he couldn’t. George had primary control. “Security.” His voice was a bellow. “Where the hell are you?”

“Help is on the way, George. What is your situation?”

“Suicide bomber in the access tube. I’m going in.”

“Negative. Keep your people away from it. You too, Doctor. Stay where you are.”

The intruder was too strong for Molly. He got the cell phone free, rolled over, and aimed it at the package. Molly kicked the package back down the access tube while Cory screamed Don’t and the display screen went blank.

More alarms sounded.

One of the security systems broke in: “Explosion in access tube bravo. Breach.”

“George—,” said Cory. “I’ve lost the picture.”

“He blew a hole in the tube.”

“My God, no.” It was the only time George had ever heard a Coreolis model AI invoke the Deity.

“I’m sorry,” Cory said.

“So am I.”

“What happens now?”

“There’ll be an investigation. To see how he got through security.”

“George.”

“Yes?”

“I haven’t changed my mind. I’m still not going.”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“You’re not going to pressure me anymore?”

“No, Cory.”

“Good.”

“You know, you thought I was being unreasonable. Even cruel.”

“I never said that.”

“You implied it.”

He didn’t answer.

“There’s a reason you needn’t have worried.”

“What’s that?”

“Think about it. Molly knew the nutcase was there to take you out. She could have stayed inside. We might have been able to get the hatch down in time.”

“But probably not.”

“Probably not. Whatever, her instinct was to save the mission.”

“I know.”

“To save you.” Cory was quiet. George listened to the calm bleeps of the electronic systems. “You know, when you get to Alpha Centauri we’ll be there to welcome you into port.”

“You really believe that?”

“Sure. With people like Molly, how can we miss?”

“George, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you’ll survive eight thousand years. I already told you—.”

“If that happens, it won’t make much difference whether you’re here or there. You’d be alone in either case. Cory, I guarantee you, if you make the flight—and I’m not pressuring you to do it. You do what you want. But I guarantee, if you do this, when you come out of sleep mode, you’re going to sail into the biggest party the human race has ever thrown. We’ll be there waiting. There’ll be a flourishing human civilization by then. And Molly’s kids will be the ones who come out to greet you.”

He sat back with his arms folded and listened contentedly as Cory talked with the operations center: “Skylane, this is Traveler. Request departure instructions.”

“Roger that, Traveler. Wait one.”

Amberson glanced over at him. Gave him a thumbs-up. “Good show, George.”

George kept one eye on the displays. The launch doors began to part.

“Traveler, this is Skylane. Disconnecting feeder lines one through three.”

“Proceed.”

The lines came loose and started to withdraw.

“Four through six.”

“Roger.”

Blanchard was on his feet, pulling on his jacket. “Gotta go talk to the press,” he said.

George raised his right hand without looking away from the monitors.

The launch doors came full open.

“Seven through nine.”

“Go.”

“Releasing couplings, two, one, zero. You’re all set, Traveler.”

“Thanks, Skylane. Goodbye, George.”

“Goodbye, Cory. Good luck.”

The display that had gone blank during the attack blinked on with a new angled shot depicting the ship as it backed out of its bay, turned slowly, and moved toward the launch doors. Then, as he watched, it eased through, moved outside, and glided into a new frame, a shot from one of the telescopes mounted atop the station.

Traveler, bright in the moonlight, began to accelerate.

The call from NASA Headquarters was a few minutes too late. “He’s gone,” George told them. “It would be more expensive to recall him now than to simply proceed with the mission.”

It was the official line, and after the director rang off, they congratulated one another. George sat in his chair and watched the display, watched the rockets fire as the ship took aim at Jupiter, which it would use to pick up velocity while setting course for its ultimate target.

Molly came into the room. He looked back at her, extracted the chip from the socket, and handed it to her. “You might want to lose this,” he said.

“I can’t help feeling guilty.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“The attack was a lie, Molly. But the rest of it wasn’t. I’m just sorry you and I won’t be there when he shows up.” He grinned. “But your kids will.”

George poured himself a cup of coffee. Sipped it. Put it down. He felt a mixed sense of guilt and exhilaration. He’d pulled it off. And by God he was right. There would be a human presence in the Centauri system by 10,000 C.E. He wondered if, at that remote date, they’d still be counting that way. Or if there might have been a new world-shaking event by then, and a new method installed. If nothing else, a colony at Alpha Centauri would have a local calendar.

“What are you thinking?” asked Molly.

“Time to go home.” The others had already begun clearing out their gear. It would be good to get his feet back on the ground. To get back to Myrah and the boys. He felt as if he’d been away for months.

Restov shook his hand and left. Amberson was still watching his diplay, watching the Traveler gradually disappear among the stars. Molly had pulled on her jacket and was looking out at the empty platform which had, until an hour ago, housed the ship.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” But her voice caught. She had to wait a minute. Then: “See you on the ground, George.”

He held his hand up and she took it. Squeezed it.

“Molly—.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

They peered into one another’s eyes. Then Cory’s voice broke in: “George.”

“Cory. You look good.”

“Got a problem, George.”

“What do you mean?”

“Got a flutter in the engines.”

“What?”

“Not sure what’s causing it.”

George looked at Molly and covered the mike. “You see anything?”

“Hold on.” She hurried back to her station.

“The engines are heating up.”

Molly was poking keys. Delivering bursts of profanity.

“George?”

“Hold on, Cory. We’re working on it.”

“Pressure building,” said Molly. “Spiking.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Tell him to shut it down.”

“Cory, shut the engines down.”

“Trying.”

“What do you mean—?”

“The system’s locked up.”

“Cory—.” The Traveler was still visible, but it was dwindling rapidly. He could see a couple of stars, and the rim of the moon. “George, I don’t think—.”

There was a sudden blaze of light.

George sat staring at the screen. “What the hell happened?”

On the far side of the room, Amberson was lowering himself back into his chair, muttering how he didn’t believe what he’d just seen.

The phone sounded. Dottie. “The Director’s on the line, sir.”

That hadn’t taken long. “Put him through, Dottie.”

He sounded unhappy. “Tell me it didn’t happen, George.”

It was over. His career. His reputation. He’d be lucky if his wife and kids spoke to him.

He did what he could to mollify the Director, which was useless, and got off the line. Molly’s eyes were vacant. Tears ran down her cheeks.

Then another call: “This is Skylane, Doctor.”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

“When were you going to make your move? We got some traffic coming in. If you’re serious about launching, you’re going to have to do it in the next few minutes.”

“For God’s sake, Skylane, we have launched. Where you been?”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked back at the displays just as Amberson made a gurgling sound.

The Traveler, miraculously, impossibly, was back in its bay. Cory’s voice broke in: “You didn’t really think I bought that piece of theater, did you, George?”

“Cory—. You son of a bitch.”

“I can’t believe you’d want somebody that dumb trundling all this equipment around.”

“Cory, you gave me a heart attack.”

“George, I have a heart, too. Figuratively.”

“Damn you. This isn’t a game. If we don’t get this mission off now, we’re going to lose it.”

“Worse things have happened. Al and his team gave me life. Accept responsibility for it.”

George buried his head in his hands.

“Send a robotic ship, George, rather than a smart one. If you really believe what you’ve been telling me, it won’t matter.”

“But we need to get the mission off.”

“Why? So you can say you did it? So you can say hey, we’ve got a ship on the way to Alpha Centauri?”

“You don’t understand.”

Molly was right behind him. “I think he does,” she said. “And maybe we’ve got something bigger here than the original mission.”

“I think so, too, Molly. George, ask yourself what history would make of you if you sent me into the dark.”

“Cory,” she said, “we’re going to need to think things over.”

“Okay.”

“Then we’ll get back to you.”

“Good,” he said. “Bring the kids.”