A Voice in the Night

A VOICE IN THE NIGHT

Alex Benedict first encountered the voice while playing a board game on a friend’s porch when he was about twelve. The friend was Augie McLeish. It was a guy reminiscing about what he’d gone through trying to summon the nerve to ask a girl to go out with him. “It’s a recording,” Augie said. “My folks listen to them a lot.”

The girl’s name was Peggy and she was the girl of his dreams. The narrator said he’d been in the sixth grade at the time. “My problem,” he continued, “was that whenever I got close to her, I froze, completely and absolutely. Then I saw an advertisement for a self-hypnosis package that guaranteed I could persuade myself that I was the ultimate prize. Good-looking, smart, funny.” He laughed at the sheer stupidity of the idea. His voice crackled with energy. “Any girl could be mine. That was what they guaranteed.” He laughed again and they cut in with some music. The show’s theme, growing louder, indicated they were coming to a close. “I’m still trying to get it to work,” he said.

The theme, Alex learned later, was Shefski’s “Liftoff.” It suggested a musical rocket, soaring into the stratosphere. It was a great voice, and Alex realized he’d been paying more attention to the recording than to the game.

“Who is that guy?” he asked the father.

“He’s Horace Brandon, Alex. A radio comedian from, I don’t know, fifty or sixty years ago.”

Alex had never heard of him. He did a search and discovered his program had been three hours long, broadcast on Sunday evenings to an impassioned audience across the North American continent. North America and Earth were a long way from where Alex lived, but he and Horace connected. He downloaded some of his stuff, learned that he was known as ‘Brandy’ rather than Horace, and became an overnight addict. Brandy was the funniest guy he’d ever heard, while simultaneously describing a life Alex knew quite well. He talked about his misadventures trying to “become one of the gang,” wearing a cape, and collecting superhero memorabilia. “My favorite,” he said “was Captain Chaos. Her special power was that wherever she went, she sowed utter confusion. Her abilities derived,” Brandy explained, “from the fact that she came from a long line of politicians.”

Alex listened to the recordings whenever he had time. Over a span of about two years, Brandy provided him with a sense of what it meant to be human, why he should be skeptical of people’s opinions, especially his own, and how easy it was to laugh at most of life’s misfortunes. He talked about things he wanted to do, to sit down with one of the Ashyurreans, and see what it felt like to get his mind read. To visit a star that was about to explode. “Most of all,” he said on several occasions, “I’d like to live long enough to share a few beers with whoever lives in Andromeda.”

Alex loved the guy. After encountering Brandy, he was never the same. He was sorry to learn that he was no longer alive.

Alex lived with his uncle Gabe, an archeologist. While most of the other kids went swimming and played ball, he spent his summers in various dig sites. It was the twelfth millennium, and the human race was by then spread across the stars. It had left its mark on a thousand worlds. And there were evenings when Alex and Gabe sat together in a tent under triple moons, listening to and laughing with Brandy about the ordinary issues involved in trying to convince people that you knew what you were talking about. “He was one of a kind,” said Gabe. “I grew up listening to him. My dad must have had recordings of all his broadcasts.”

“How did he die, Uncle Gabe?”

“He had a yacht, and it broke down during a flight. He’d gone out somewhere, light-years from home. For years, nobody knew what had happened. And then somebody just found him adrift.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

Gabe was tall, easy-going, dressed in the khakis he always wore on the job. It had been a long day at a site that he suspected held the remains of Gustofalo II, the beloved founder of the Karim Republic. But that had been six thousand years ago. The area had been rife with earthquakes. The original settlers had gotten unlucky.

The better part of what had once been a city had been buried. Gabe and his partners looked through the scanners and saw porticoes, dormers, a ruined temple, sheets of concrete that had once been sidewalks. Eventually the area had been abandoned altogether. There was no easy way to know which, if any, of the structures contained the remains of the great man.

Local authorities were on the scene to ensure that they didn’t attempt to make off with anything. He was glad they took the precaution because they also kept idle visitors away. Gabe was working in league with the Holcomb Museum. But funding was limited. They couldn’t afford to dig up everything. In fact, the museum representative, after looking at the progress reports, had suggested that it would probably be best to call a halt.

Gabe hated to give up. But he was grateful for Alex’s interest in Brandy, which gave him the opportunity to think about something else. “Did you know the name of his yacht?” Alex asked.

“Yes. The Rover. He was in love with the stars.”

Alex knew about that. He talked about them a lot. About other worlds and stuff.

Gabe nodded. “He enjoyed riding around the Orion Arm. Sometimes he went alone, sometimes with friends. Anyhow he was alone when he took off on one of those flights and never came back. For almost twenty-five years nobody knew what had happened to him.”

“I don’t understand that, Uncle Gabe. You mean nobody knew where he was going?”

“Oh, no. He had to file a flight plan just like everybody else. He went to Zeta Leporis. It was one of those places nobody ever bothered with. It didn’t have any life-bearing planets or anything particularly exciting. Hardly anyone had been there. I guess that’s what attracted him.” Gabe took a deep breath. “When he didn’t come back, they sent a rescue mission out. But they couldn’t find any sign that he’d even been there. What happened was a mystery for a long time. Eventually, years later, somebody came across the Rover.”

“What did happen, Uncle Gabe?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “One of the engines blew. Took out his subspace comm system so he couldn’t even send an appeal for help.”

“And he died out there?” Alex asked.

“Yes. The people who examined the damage said it couldn’t have taken more than a couple of hours. The Rover was leaking air.”

Alex was sixteen, not yet ready for existential reality. He became haunted by the images of a terrified Brandy, the guy who saw humor in everything, trapped in a narrow ship leaking air. Alone, and with no hope of rescue. If something like that could happen to him, it could happen to anyone.

What had those last hours been like?

Gabe saw the reaction. “It’s okay, Alex,” he said. “I can’t believe he wouldn’t have been able to deal with it. He was a smart guy. He knew he was taking a chance when he went out there. Let it go, kid.”

That evening there was reason to celebrate: The scanners picked up a structure that resembled a crypt. Gabe thought there was a good chance it was precisely what they were looking for.”

“How can you tell?” asked Alex. “It’s just a rock dome.”

“It’s concrete. And we can’t know for sure until we go down and take a closer look. It might just be a cenotaph.”

“What’s that?”

“A memorial. Sometimes they’ll erect one but bury the body somewhere else. You get more security that way from grave robbers. But even that would be progress.”

“That’s good.”

“You’re still upset about Brandy, aren’t you?”

“I’m okay.” People should die quietly. In bed, surrounded by family and friends. Alex had never really thought about it before. He didn’t much care about Gustofalo. But he didn’t want Gabe to see that. “So why do you think that dome might be where he’s buried?”

“There’s an inscription.” He pointed at a string of engraved characters. They didn’t look like anything Alex had seen before.

“That’s his name?”

“No. It’s a quote. It’s from The Achea. His book of commentary. Which, by the way, people still read today. It’s a classic. You should try it sometime.”

“What’s the inscription say?”

“One chance at life.”

“So he’s saying what? Have a big time while you can?”

“More or less, Alex. If we’re right, it’s his farewell message. The way he wanted to be remembered.”

Alex smiled. “I think I’d have liked the guy. Reminds me a little of Brandy.”

That evening, clouds rolled in, lightning rattled around darkened skies, and rain began to fall. Gabe took a call on his link, talked for a few minutes, and then told Alex there was more good news. “We cleared the data with the museum,” he said. “Tomorrow, if the weather gives us a break, we’ll start the excavation.”

“They said okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Alex looked uncertain.

“Something wrong, champ?”

“I was thinking that Brandy should have left a farewell message. They didn’t find anything in the Rover, I guess?”

Gabe’s mind had been elsewhere, and he needed a few moments to catch up. “No,” he said finally. “Not that I know of.”

“It seems strange, for him.”

“Well, maybe he did.”

“I don’t think so. I checked with Roger.” His AI. “He didn’t know of anything either.”

“He probably thought the Rover would never be found.”

“Maybe. But I can’t imagine Brandy going away quietly.”

“Apparently he did.”

Alex produced his link again so he could talk to Roger. “Was the radio on the Rover damaged when they found it?”

Roger needed a minute. “No, Alex,” he said. “The radio was okay.”

“It wouldn’t much matter,” Gabe said. “He was too far out for it to matter. A couple hundred light-years.”

A thunderclap erupted overhead. They both ducked. “Big one,” said Alex when the rumbling had subsided. “He was a radio guy, Uncle Gabe. It’s just hard to believe he wouldn’t have gone live one final time.”

“But what would have been the point? He was two hundred light-years out. The transmission would still be a long way from home.”

“I guess you’re right. It’s just hard to believe.”

Gabe wished Brandy would go away.

“Uncle Gabe, if he did send a signal, we could pinpoint where it would be at any given time, and we could be there waiting for it when it arrived. We could listen to his final broadcast.”

“Radio archeology,” said Gabe.

“Yes. Can we do it? When we’re done here?”

Gabe did not see any point in such an effort. But it was his earnest hope that Alex would follow in his footsteps and become an archeologist. There was no more rewarding profession. For all its frustrations, it provided an opportunity to put history on stage, to contribute to the sense of who we are. So maybe this was a time to give in. Maybe it would light a fire in his nephew. “You’d really like to go out and try to find a transmission, wouldn’t you?”

Alex lit up. “Yes, I would. Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“You do the research and math.”

They did not find Gustofalo. But that was okay. Gabe knew that success in his field was often matched with failure. They hadn’t actually located the tomb, but they did come away with a few artifacts, which he turned over to the Holcomb Museum. They duly thanked him with a certificate of achievement. And meantime, Alex did his homework on Brandy. The date and time of the Rover’s departure from the solar system was on record. So he could estimate within a few hours when it had arrived at Zeta Leporis.

The drive engine had blown during its arrival. Analysts maintained that Brandon could have survived no more than four hours maximum after the explosion. That outlined a ten-hour time period during which any transmission would have been sent. So he could calculate within about seven billion miles where the signal would be at any given time.

“You really think you can do that?” said Gabe, for whom mathematics was not a strong suit.

“Absolutely,” said Alex. “When do we leave?”

Andiquar University owed Gabe a few favors, so they were willing to smile quietly, pretend he was proposing a serious mission, and grant him access to their interstellar carrier, the Tracker. They also included their pilot, Tori Kolpath, in the package. Gabe and Tori had flown a number of joint missions over the past decade. She was tall and quiet, absolutely unflappable, with gray eyes and black hair. The person you’d want on the bridge if you ran into a meteor storm. When he explained the mission to her, Tori made no effort to conceal her amusement. But otherwise she played it straight.

“Do you think there’s a problem?” Gabe asked her.

“No. Not at all.”

“Then why the smile?”

“Who is this guy Brandon again?”

Alex had to provide a specific destination. “That depends on the time we get there,” he said. “The signal’s moving at 186,282.7 miles per second.” Tori rolled her eyes, and he realized immediately that she didn’t need that kind of explanation. Of course she knew the velocity of radio signals.

“The transmission will be roughly a third of the way to the solar system,” she said. “Is that right?”

“Yes, Tori.”

“I can get us into the area in about four days. Since we don’t know the precise location of the signal, let’s arrive a few hours early so it doesn’t get by us. Okay?”

They rode up to the space station, boarded the Tracker and launched.

Alex spent the first few hours on the bridge, watching her operate. He’d once considered the possibility of a career as a pilot. There was a problem, though. Alex tended to get ill when they made jumps into and out of transcendental space. He didn’t know yet what he wanted to do with his life. Hanging around Uncle Gabe had left him with a fascination for history, but there was so much of it, thousands of years and hundreds of worlds. What you had to do if you became a historian was to concentrate on a specific culture, and a specific era. He thought how much simpler life must have been when the human race was confined to a single world.

He knew that Gabe hoped he’d become an archeologist, but Alex didn’t think he’d want to spend his life digging holes.

It was a four-day flight. They spent their time watching shows, arguing about history, and talking about how exciting it would be to pick up a forty-year-old radio signal. But it was clear to Alex that Uncle Gabe and Tori were faking it. They were humoring him. It didn’t matter. He wanted to bring home that last transmission. He wanted to know that Brandy had been at peace with the way things turned out. And he also believed that capturing the transmission would be something he could one day brag about.

That was the problem with Gabe. He thought of archeology as the science of recovering physical artifacts. Jewels, weapons, agricultural instruments. Stuff like that. But the Brandon Signal could open up a whole new era. And one day Gabe would thank him.

That first night, when he’d retired to his cabin and the ship grew quiet, he found himself thinking again about him, about Brandy, trapped on the Rover with his air running out. And he wondered whether, even if there had been a final broadcast, he really wanted to hear it.

He tried to hide his feelings. He spent progressively more time reading. He played electronic games with the AI. And he worked out a lot. But he could not get the radio great out of his mind. And he began to hope there would be no signal.

Finally, after four days of flight, Tori arrived at breakfast and made her announcement: “We’re almost there. We have fifteen minutes to finish. And then belt down.”

Alex hurried through his French toast, and Tori invited him onto the bridge for the jump. He sat down beside her and drew the harness down over his shoulders. “Ready?” she said.

“Absolutely.” And please don’t get sick.

He came through it okay, and they glided out under a sky full of stars. They were in the middle of nowhere. The nearest planetary system was three light-years away. Tori checked their location and nodded. “We’re right where we want to be, Alex. And we’re about four hours early. If you have the numbers right, we’re not likely to hear anything until after lunch. The signal should arrive sometime between two o’clock and midnight.” She aimed the antennas in the direction from which the transmission would be coming, and they settled in to wait.

Tori and Gabe looked through the ship’s library for a show they could relax with. They invited Alex to help, but he declined. “Whatever you guys want is okay with me,” he said.

They decided on something from twenty years ago, a comedy featuring actors who, to Alex, just seemed dumb. Eventually he excused himself and went back onto the bridge to look for the signal. It was the first time he’d seen a sky so dark. The stars were bright, but somehow it didn’t matter. You needed a sun somewhere.

He sat in the captain’s chair. He knew Tori wouldn’t approve, but he’d hear her if she got up, and that would give him plenty of time to get to his feet. When the signal arrived, a green lamp on the instrument panel would flash. And the AI would inform the rest of the ship.

Gabe and Tori were laughing back in the cabin. They didn’t seem to understand what this was really about. Somehow that didn’t surprise him. Even the brightest adults could somehow miss the point. He’d brought some of Brandy’s broadcasts along. He hadn’t listened to any of them yet because he’d been a bit nervous about what lay ahead. But it was time. He checked the titles and set it to play.

First came the “Liftoff” theme. Then Brandy’s voice.

“I hate birthdays. We all do, of course, after we pass twenty, but no one wants to admit it. Back on the day when I turned twenty-four I spent the afternoon at a ball game. There was no woman in my life. I didn’t have a job. My folks were throwing a party for me that evening, I didn’t have a date, and all I could think of was that the years were rolling past and I wasn’t getting anything done. My life was getting away from me.

“That same day I came across an ad for a supplement whose makers insisted it would keep me young. The price was a little out of reach, but if I cut some corners I’d be able to manage it. And I began thinking how life would be if we all started living forever. Bosses would never retire. Politicians would not go away. The funeral directors and pallbearers unions would go on strike. And people would be asked to do the patriotic thing, go down to the dock, and throw themselves into the river—”

Alex rarely skipped a meal. But on that evening, while they waited, he passed. Uncle Gabe tried to reassure him. “Sometimes you just have to be patient,” he said.

They sat in the cabin, trying to find things to say as the final hours wore away. Alex mostly spent his time staring out a portal at the distant stars or listening for the AI to say something. Gabe began telling stories about times when he’d thought he had nothing for his efforts and then it had all turned around. Like finding the secret diaries of Vernon Persechetti, the brilliant composer who’d had inside knowledge of all the scandals of the Leichmann Era. And the Maroni statue of The Last Virgin, which had vanished from its place in the offices of the Brocchian attorney general who’d been offended by its lack of clothing. “Sometimes,” he said, “the pleasure is just in the hunt. Even if you don’t find something, you’ve eliminated a possibility.”

“Okay,” said Alex, who didn’t buy it.

“Just hang on,” Gabe said.

By eleven o’clock, Alex was sure they would not pick up the signal. Maybe Horace hadn’t sat down at the mike after all. Or maybe the distance was just too much and the transmission had dissipated. Or—Or what?

Midnight came and went. Thankfully, it was over.

Tori suggested they give it a few more hours. “Getting precision with these kinds of calculations is tricky,” she said. “If we’re even a little bit off, it can make a big difference.”

Gabe agreed. Alex, frustrated, went back to his cabin. He did not understand. He felt that he knew Brandy quite well. There’s no way he would have signed off quietly.

Maybe, Alex thought, he had the wrong target.

There was a comment of Brandy’s that had stayed with him since the first time he’d heard it: “I’d like to live long enough to share a few beers with whoever lives in Andromeda.”

He asked Roger if Andromeda was visible from Zeta Laporis.

“Yes,” he said.

Alex took a deep breath and joined Tori and Gabe in the passenger cabin. “There’s another possibility,” he said.

Roger worked out the vector of a transmission from Zeta Laporis to Andromeda, and a week later the Tracker arrived. “You owe me,” Gabe said.

And Tori seemed slightly annoyed. But she’d gone along with it. And six hours after they arrived on their target location two light-years from Arkagus, they picked up a transmission.

It opened with the familiar musical theme, Shefski’s “Liftoff,” and soared into space. Then Brandy was laughing and talking about how sometimes things don’t go the way you’d like them too.

“Blew out my engines,” he said. “You do something over and over and after a while you get used to the way things are supposed to go. And then you get a surprise.”

Alex raised a fist. “Yay,” he said. “He’s okay.”

Brandy continued in his usual self-mocking tone, describing his situation, air running out, not long to go. “Sometimes stuff happens. You’re listening to this, and I’m a long time gone. I’d like to say thanks to the people who’ve supported me all these years. But most of them, like me, have probably moved on. And it’s not likely anybody out there will ever have heard of me, unless someone didn’t have much to do and decided to chase down the signal. But what I want to say is that, if you can manage it, I hope you find a way to get out here. Even if you only do it once. There’s too much to see and you don’t want to miss it. And believe me, the virtual stuff doesn’t hold a candle to sailing through a set of planetary rings. Or tracking a comet. I’ll tell you something else, if I’d had the opportunity to pick my location when it was time to check out, this would have been the kind of place I’d have chosen. This is where I’d have wanted to make my exit.

“And I’d like also to say hello to, possibly, the only ones who will hear this message. And who will have to take time to manage a translation. Anyhow, hello to the Andromedans. I’d love to have met you guys. And I hope we connect. Sorry if it creates an inconvenience, but it’s my only shot.” And he laughed.

“I just don’t know how he does it,” said Alex. “He’s incredible.”

Tori embraced him. “You did a good job, Alex.”

Gabe smiled. “I think we have a budding archeologist here.”

“I really like him,” Alex said. “He talked for, what, an hour? And I didn’t hear a word that suggested he was feeling sorry for himself. Hard to believe, considering what was happening.”

“I agree,” said Gabe.

“I was afraid he might have broken down.”

“Apparently not that guy.”

“He was just doing what he always did, I guess,” said Tori. “A last show, and good-bye.”