Infinity Beach

15

“You should never have done that,” said Solly. He was furious. “Not alone. You know better.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Now I do.” And: “Never again.”

A long silence this time. Then: “Kim, it has to have been an eel or something.”

She was still in Eagle Point, in her robe, on the sofa with her legs tucked under her. A virtual Solly sat in a virtual chair in the projection area. Behind him, she could see a window and a view of the ocean. He was at home.

“It wasn’t an eel,” she insisted. “And it wasn’t in my head.” And to her everlasting embarrassment, tears ran down her cheeks. “It was really there, Solly. So help me, it was really there.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Whatever it was, it was there, and it wasn’t human. But the eyes were intelligent. It looked right through me.”

“Okay,” he said. “We don’t go in the water anymore, right?”

She was swallowing, trying to get control of herself. “Right,” she said. Her voice trembled.

“Couldn’t have been a squid or something, could it? Something that followed you in?”

“The lake’s fresh water.”

Solly didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then: “Did you get a picture of it?”

“No,” she said. “I was a little busy.”

“So what do you think it was?”

“You want to know what I think? Really? I think Sheyel is right. I think they brought something back with them. And I know how crazy that sounds, but I know what I saw, I mean I don’t know what I saw, but it was there, and it wasn’t a squid.”

“You want me to come up?”

“No. I’ve had enough. I’ll be on my way back in a couple of hours.”

Solly looked relieved. “You don’t have any plans about going back into the lake.”

“No.” She managed a laugh. “No way that’s going to happen.”

“What about the boat?”

“I told the rental shop where it is. They’re charging me for the pickup, but that’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“All right.” He was visibly relieved. It was a reaction that pleased her. “Think about it a minute. How could a thing have got past customs? How would it get down in the lift?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was inside somebody. Maybe it took over Emily. Maybe that’s why they couldn’t show her on the logs.”

“Kim—” His eyes went briefly out of focus. “What’ve you been reading? Do you have any idea how that sounds?”

“Solly, I don’t have any answers. I just know what I saw.”

“All right.” He was appraising her. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sure she was.

“I don’t suppose,” said Solly, “you found the Hunter logs? The real ones?”

She looked out the window. Sunlight glittered on the peaks. It was a normal world out there. “No,” she said. “But there is something.” She held up one of the pictures of the sketch on the wall.

He leaned forward. Squinted. “My God,” he said. “It’s Emily again.”

“She seems to be his favorite model.”

“I’d say. What’s she holding in her hands?”

Kim produced close-ups, watched him study the planet, and the ship. He frowned at the Valiant. “What is that thing?” he asked. “A turtle?”

“It’s a ship of some kind. What’s weird is that Ben Tripley has a model of it in his office.”

“The same design?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell is it doing in the sketch?”

“Solly, it might be a celestial. Maybe it’s what they saw out there.” She took a minute to rearrange her cushions. “I think they came out of hyper near one of the seven stars, and they saw this thing.” She shook the photo. “We’ve got to do a search, see if any ship that looked like this has ever existed. Tripley didn’t know about it, so I’d bet not. Anyhow it has no propulsion tubes, at least the model doesn’t—it’s hard to tell with this—” she meant the sketch. “As far as I know everything we make has propulsion tubes. If I’m correct, the ship is either fictitious or a celestial. If it’s fictitious, why would it appear simultaneously in Kane’s mural and as Tripley’s model?”

Solly tapped his fingers on his armchair. “Why would Tripley—Kile Tripley—want a model?”

“I don’t know. Answer that and maybe everything else becomes clear.”

“Okay,” he said. “Another subject—”

“Yes.”

“You were right. The log’s a complete fabrication. Or at least, it is from about the point where they have the engine breakdown.”

“Maybe that becomes the first question. Did they really experience a breakdown?”

“Probably. If not, and if there was a contact, it would imply a rendezvous. That seems like stretching it. No, I think we can assume the engine problem was legitimate.”

“Okay. If what we saw on the log was accurate, would it have been enough to bring them out of hyperspace?”

“Oh yes. Any kind of problem with the jump engines, you get out before you start monkeying with it. That’s SOP. Because if you don’t and something goes wrong, nobody ever hears from you again.”

“So we’re making some progress. The logs look good until the problem develops. And the virtual Emily shows up at about the same time.”

“So what’s our next step?” Solly’s voice got a little deeper, signaling that his testosterone was pushing him in a direction he really didn’t want to follow. “How about if I go up to Severin and see if I can get some pictures of the thingee?”

“No. It scares me, Solly. I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”

“That’s not a very scientific attitude.”

“I don’t care.”

“Okay.”

She could see he was uncomfortable, that he thought he should argue a little, maybe even insist on going. So she changed tack: “Have you decided to take the Taratuba assignment?”

“Not yet. Why? Did you want to come along?”

“I’m going to try to talk to Matt and see if I can borrow the Mac. If I can get it, I’ll need a pilot.” The Mac was the Karen McCollum, one of two Institute interstellars currently at Greenway.

“Why do you need a starship? Where do you want to go?”

“I think it’s time to bite the bullet.”

“You’re getting dramatic. What does that mean?”

“Find out whether a meeting between the Hunter and a celestial really happened.”

“How do you propose to do that?”

“Go out and look at the neighborhood.”

“Kim—” He was studying her, trying to make sense of the proposal. “We’re talking about something that happened almost three decades ago—”

“If they found a civilization, it won’t have gone anywhere.”

“But we seem to be talking about a ship. We don’t think they’d still be hanging around after all these years, do we?”

“Maybe not. But it doesn’t matter.”

“Why’s that?”

“Their traces would still be out there.”

She got off the train at Blanchet Preserve and took a cab to Tempest, home of Orlin University. It was the first time she’d been back since graduation, and she was struck by the degree to which the town had changed. The MacFarlane Recreational Complex looked abandoned, much of East Campus had become a public park, and all of the buildings, with one or two exceptions, appeared weather-beaten.

It was nevertheless good to see it all again, maybe because the old scenes were mundane, laid out against the midafternoon sun, part of a solid, predictable world. No specters need apply. She took comfort from it, from the Thompson Astronomical Center, which received a steady stream of images from observational facilities throughout the Orion Arm; from the Picacci Building, which housed the student center and cafeteria; from Palfrey Park, where she’d often done her reading assignments when the weather was good. Off to the north in a cluster of trees she could almost see her old apartment.

And there, at the end of a quiet lane, stood the house in which Sheyel Tolliver had occasionally gathered groups of graduate students and other faculty members for lunches and wide-ranging discussions. Never look for complexity in diplomatic decisions. With very few exceptions, actions always devolve—and that’s the exact term—from someone’s self-interest. Not the national self-interest, by the way. We are talking here about individual careers.

She hadn’t believed that at the time, had assigned it to the natural growth of cynicism in an aging instructor. Kim had been an idealist then. Now, although she retained a strong belief in the essential decency of the average person, she was convinced that those whose tastes run to personal power could never be trusted to act save in the pursuit of their own ambition.

The last meeting of Sheyel’s informal discussion group had occurred two days before graduation. It had been a farewell, and the students had brought the goodies for a change, and had given Sheyel a plaque, which had read FOR UNRELENTING ADEQUACY. The reference was to his assertion that the standards in their group were so high that adequacy constituted a singular achievement.

The house was stone and glass, in the Sylvan style, with a rooftop garden and a large bay window overlooking a country lane. A portico dominated the eastern side, and a pool occupied the rear. A postlight had been turned on to welcome her.

She recalled standing by the pool at that last meeting, sipping a lime drink—how odd that that detail would stay with her—in a group with Sheyel and another instructor and two or three students, and the subject had turned to the sorry state of human history: its long catalog of blood, desperation, corruption, missed opportunities, oppression, and often suicidal policies. And Sheyel had commented on what he perceived as a root cause:

There is, he’d said, an inverse correlation between the amount of power a person has and the level at which his or her mind functions. A person of ordinary intelligence who acquires power, of whatever kind, tends to develop an exaggerated view of his own capabilities. Sycophants gather. There is little or no criticism of decisions. As his ability to disrupt the lives of others advances, these tendencies become stronger. Eventually you end with Louis the Fourteenth, who thinks he’s done a good job for France, although the country he left behind was ruined.

The front door opened and Sheyel stepped outside. He looked up and waved at the descending cab. She waved back. The taxi eased down onto the pad and he came over to help her out.

“It’s good to see you, Kim,” he said. “I can’t tell you how indebted I am to you.”

“I’m glad I’ve been able to help.”

They stood in the bright afternoon sunlight, studying each other. He wore a dark blue loose-fitting shirt with long sleeves, and light gray slacks. She detected a pallor that hadn’t been apparent in the virtuals.

The cab lifted off. “What are your plans for the balance of the day?” he asked. “Can I entice you to stay for dinner?”

“That’s very kind of you, Sheyel,” she said. “I wish I could, but I’m on a tight schedule.”

“Pity,” he said, making way for her to go inside. Kim couldn’t remember the details of the furniture, but the book-lined walls were still there and the glass doors leading out onto the patio. And the framed copy of the Magister Folio, whose principles had formed the basis of the Articles.

“I was reminiscing about the times you had us over,” she said.

He seemed puzzled at the remark, and she wondered if he’d forgotten that he used to open his home to his students. “Yes,” he said finally. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” she said. “It was a good experience.”

“They have rules now that prevent off-campus gatherings.” He shrugged it away. “What can I get you to drink?”

She settled for a dark wine and they retreated to his study. “I’m sorry we don’t have more answers about Yoshi,” she said. “The police say they’re looking into it, but as I told you, I’m not confident.”

She wasn’t certain what he’d mixed for himself. It was lemon colored but it smelled of mint. “I understand, Kim. Did you learn anything about your sister?”

She hesitated, not sure what she’d learned. Something, certainly. “No,” she said. “Still no trace.”

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked. “I read the accounts. You almost lost your life.”

“It was a wild ride,” she admitted.

He sipped his drink. “We always wondered whether Yoshi had been injured in some way, wandered off, who knew?”

There were two framed pictures of her in the room: one as a child of about four standing outside in the patio, holding Sheyel’s hand; and a graduation photo, displaying all her elegance.

“For whatever consolation it may be,” Kim said, “it appears she died quickly.” The preliminary police report had not yet been officially released, and Kim really didn’t know whether Yoshi had suffered. Nevertheless it seemed like the right thing to say.

Sheyel gazed at her through watery eyes. “It’s a terrible thing to be cut down so young.”

Kim said nothing.

He gazed steadily at her. “I take it you didn’t just come to see how I was getting on. What have you to tell me?”

She looked steadily at him. “I have a question first.”

He leaned forward.

“When you originally came to me with this, you told me there was something loose in the Severin woods. That if I doubted you I should just go up and spend a few hours in the area.”

“Yes. I probably said something like that.”

“After dark, I think you said.”

“I don’t recall the conversation in detail.”

“‘I’ve felt it… Go look for yourself. But don’t go alone.’ That’s what you said.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve done that, Sheyel.”

A chill settled into the room. “And—?”

“You were right. There is something there. What do you know about it?”

“Only that the area is oppressive. I saw lights in the woods a couple of times. There was never anything I could lay hands on though.” His eyes dropped to the floor. “There were some accounts that that was the real reason people left.”

“How could anyone have stayed in the village?” asked Kim. “They were taking down the dam.”

“They decided not to repair the dam because people were clearing out. It wasn’t the other way around.” His eyes were hooded. “There’s a lot of history about it. Check any of the sources.” He went to his shelves and took down several volumes. He tapped his finger on one with a gray cover and artwork depicting a moonlit phantom. “I especially recommend this: Kathryn Kline’s The Specters of Severin.” The phantom looked nothing at all like the apparition Kim had seen.

He went through the others, commenting in a similar manner, laying them before her. “People tend to get overwrought. But the evidence is striking.”

She glanced through them while he refilled their glasses. “I was up there several times. This was years after I’d talked with Kane. The dam was long gone and the place was deserted. You’ve been there, you know what I’m talking about.

“It’s disquieting. Maybe because I knew it was connected with Yoshi’s disappearance. I thought I could feel things moving in the dark. The valley scared me. I don’t think I scare easily, but that place did the deed.” He seemed to withdraw into himself. “Why don’t you tell me what it was you saw?”

“Not really anything,” she said. “It’s just very quiet out there. You understand what I mean?”

He nodded. “Have you learned anything about the Hunter? Was there a contact?”

She showed him the pictures. “I think they encountered another ship, and I think this might be what it looked like.”

He leaned forward, opened a cabinet drawer, and took out a viewing lens. He held it over the images. “You really think so?” he said. The moroseness which had marked the conversation to this point was swept away by a wave of excitement.

“Yes. I think so. There’s no proof. Probably not even strong evidence. But yes, I think it happened.”

His eyes widened as he gazed at the mural. “Why,” he said, “that’s Emily.”

The Conciliar Medal of Valor glittered in the midday sun. Tora Kane held out her hand, took it from Kim, and studied it. She read her father’s name from the obverse. “Where did you get it?” she asked.

“In the Severin Valley.”

Tora’s mood visibly darkened. “You can’t leave it alone, can you?”

“I thought you’d want to have it.”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

They were standing on the beach at Wheeling Bay, at the same point where they’d talked before. Kim’s hands were pushed into her jacket pockets. The tide was out, and a few gulls patrolled the wet sand. “It depends on what else you have to tell me. When you’re done with all this poking around, are you going to be making accusations against my father?”

“Do you think he did anything wrong?”

“Look, Kim—” Her teeth bit down on the name. “Markis wasn’t perfect by any means. He had a short temper, and he wasn’t very tactful, and sometimes he forgot he had a daughter. But he was essentially a decent man, and I know he wouldn’t have been mixed up in anything ugly.”

“Did you ever see the inside of the villa?”

“The one in the valley? Sure.”

“Were you inside it at any time after the Mount Hope explosion?”

“Yes,” she said. “I visited my father from time to time. I lived there while I was growing up. When I came of age, my parents let the marriage lapse. But I went back when I could.”

“May I ask when that was?”

“I left the villa in 569. After that I visited occasionally, once or twice a year.”

“Did you happen to notice whether there was a mural in the den?”

“In the den? No, not that I recall.”

“Would you have seen it if there had been?”

“Of course. Listen, what’s this about?”

“There’s a mural there now.”

“So what?”

“The woman in it is my sister.”

“Oh.” She gazed briefly into the sun. “Well. It’s hard for me to see what inference can be drawn from that.”

“Dr. Kane, my understanding is that your father sealed off part of the house after the last Hunter mission. Did you know anything about that?”

“Part of the house?”

“The den.”

“That was his private space. There was nothing unusual about that.”

“Did you have access?”

Kim could see her considering her answer. “No,” she said at last. “Not in the later years. He kept it locked.”

“Did he say why?”

“No. I really didn’t concern myself with it. And I don’t see what business any of this is of yours anyway.”

Kim nodded. “Thank you,” she said.

“Now if you don’t mind—”

“I’m sorry,” said Kim. “Listen, I know you don’t approve of me very much.”

Tora remained silent.

“For what it’s worth, I admire your father.”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t think you need fear for his reputation.”

Tora took a deep breath and turned away.

Kim watched her walk. She was reasonably sure she believed what she had just said.

She had an afternoon engagement next day at the Mariners’ Club, which had nothing whatever to do with boating, but was rather a group of older citizens. The name referred to the members’ view of themselves as persons who had sailed through life, and who had now arrived at safe harbor, and who planned on enjoying the time they had left.

The club seal, displayed on a banner, depicted an anchor and five stars, one for each of the club’s guiding principles, and its motto Keep the Wind at Your Back. Kim had taken time to read the guiding principles and she wove them into her remarks. They were mundane feelgood truisms, like Always walk in the surf, and The only real failure is failing to try.

The Institute is a lot like the Mariners, she told them. “It’s about stretching horizons and splashing around in the cosmos. And we don’t always succeed on the first try. Life is like that. Science is like that. Like the Mariners, we’re not afraid to fail, and in fact that’s the way we learn.”

As usual, she played her audience well and when she was finished she got an enthusiastic ovation. The emcee thanked her heartily for coming, a number of individuals lingered to ask questions or deliver compliments, one tried to ask her out, and the organization’s president took her aside: 50 percent of the proceeds from the Mariners’ spring fund drive, he explained, were customarily donated to a worthy organization, usually an educational institution. He wanted her to know that he had been impressed by her presentation, that the other board members shared his feeling, and that the Institute could expect to be the recipient of this year’s gift.

It would be no small amount, she knew, and she was delighted to carry this piece of good news back to the Institute.

Matt was waiting. Kim knew it wasn’t good news by the general mood in the office. Something had happened. She suspected her coworkers didn’t know the details, but they felt the boss’s tension.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked, standing in his doorway.

He’d been talking to the AI, something about anticipated cost-benefits, and they continued the conversation while he waved her in. He managed not to look at her while doing so, but his voice took on a cooler note. When he’d finished he turned, shook his head in a gesture that suggested he lived in a universe that was out to get him, signaled for her to close the door, and without a word started the VR.

Kim sat down as an image of Ben Tripley took shape.

“This was received about an hour ago,” Matt said.

Tripley was seated on the edge of his desk. He looked unhappy. “Phil,” he said, apparently speaking to Philip Agostino, the director, “I asked you to request Dr. Brandywine to stop involving herself in my affairs. She has now caused a police interrogation, and has unfairly called the character of my father into question.” Over Tripley’s shoulder, Kim could see the forward section of the Valiant. “I have to inform you that I am reevaluating my support for the Institute, as your organization seems to have too much free time on its hands, and a propensity for chasing down discredited rumors. Be advised that if any damage comes to either my property or my reputation as a result of this incident, I will regrettably have no choice but to seek legal redress.”

It blinked off.

“Want to see it again?” Matt asked.

“Yes,” she said. “But kill the sound.”

He stared at her, taken off guard, waiting for her to cancel the request. When she didn’t he reran it. She went over to the desk where she could stop it at the point she wanted.

“The director has instructed me,” Matt said angrily, “to ask for your resignation.”

“Tripley’s a crank,” she said.

“He’s an important crank, Kim.”

She froze the image, Tripley leaning forward, mouth open, index finger jabbed in their general direction. “Matt,” she said, “look at this.” She tried to adjust the image so they’d get more of the Valiant, but it was already full frame.

“Yeah. Looks like a bookend. So what?”

“It’s a model starship.”

He shrugged. “And—?”

“Matt, I’m pretty sure the Hunterdid have an encounter with a celestial.”

“Kim—”

“I can’t prove it, but I’d bet on it.” She pointed at the Valiant. “And this is what it looked like.”

“The model.”

“Yes. Look, I know it sounds goofy but I’m almost positive it’s so.”

“If it’s so, why is Tripley keeping it quiet?”

“I don’t think he knows anything about it. Not about the mission. Not about the model. I think his father had it made in one of the local tech shops immediately after he got back. After the explosion, Ben’s grandmother found it at the villa, thought it was only a toy and gave it to him.”

Matt looked as if his shoes were too tight. “What evidence do you have?”

She told him about the fraudulent log and showed him the pictures of Kane’s submerged wall. She said nothing about the vision in the passageway.

“How do you know the log is fraudulent?”

“We had it analyzed.”

“By whom?”

“By experts.”

“You don’t want to tell me.”

“Not really.”

He stopped to catch his breath. “Kim, I’m sorry. You’re a valuable member of the organization and I’d have preferred not to lose you, but you don’t really give me any choice. I want you to go back to your office and write out your resignation. Make it effective thirty days from now. That way I can give you a month’s pay. But don’t come back.” He stared at her across the top of his desk. “You know I’d change this if I could, but I warned you, damn it. I did warn you this was going to happen.”

He scowled and waved her out of the room. But when she started for the door he stopped her. “Kim,” he said, “if you need a reference, make sure it’s addressed to me personally and not to the organization.”

The words didn’t register. “Matt, this isn’t fair. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve violated no procedure—”

“You disobeyed a directive. I told you to stay away from this—” He stuttered a couple of times and waved one hand in a frustrated circle.

She glared at him. “Don’t you care what the truth is?”

“Okay, what is the truth? We’ve got one woman dead and one missing. If Kile Tripley did it, it doesn’t much matter because he’s also gone to a better world. So it’s not as if we’re looking for justice.

“You find a bookshelf model and a sketch on a wall and on the basis of that you think somebody met a celestial. If they did, why the goddamn hell didn’t they tell somebody? Anybody?”

“I don’t know, Matt. But if there’s nothing to the story, why’d they gundeck the logs?”

“I don’t know that they did.”

“You can check them if you want. When you do, and when you find out that what I’ve told you is true, I’d like very much to borrow the McCollum.”

His eyes widened. “You’re a remarkable woman, Kim, I’ll say that for you. But maybe you didn’t hear me earlier: You’re not working for us anymore.”

“How’d it go?” asked Solly.

“They fired me.” She had a blowup of Tripley’s Valiant taped to her wall.

“Goddammit, Kim, I told you that would happen.”

She was trembling, with anger, frustration, with a sense of the sheer injustice of it all.

“Maybe it’ll blow over,” he said. “Just sit tight for a bit.

Give them a chance to calm down until they discover they need you.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” They embraced and neither spoke. “Look,” he said at last, “I have some friends at Albestaadt.” Albestaadt was a major research facility on Pacifica. “I can’t promise anything, but I could put in a word. I think there’d be a decent chance. And you could go back to being a researcher.”

“Thanks, Solly. Maybe later. I’ve got a point to make first.”

“You’re going to continue to push this thing?”

“Might as well. I’ve nothing to lose now.”

“You could get sued. Anyhow, what more can you do? Where can you go from here?”

“I’m going to prove the encounter happened.”

“How will you do that?”

“The Hunter’s radio, Solly. It was omnidirectional, remember? With a booster.”

She saw his features brighten. “You really think it would work?”

“Why not? All we need is the right equipment.”

Solly’s eyes met hers. “You’ll need a starship. I don’t guess Matt agreed to let you have the Mac?”

“No. Not exactly.”

“So—How do you plan to manage it?”

“I was thinking about stealing it.”

“Kim—”

“I mean it, Solly. I’ll do what I have to.”

“I believe you would.”

“Solly, I can’t just walk away from this. If we’re right, it’ll be the prime scientific discovery of all time. We’ll be famous, immortal, whatever you like.”

“Rich?” said Solly.

“I’d guess rich beyond imagination.”

“Yeah. Well, rich is good. But the risk is a little high. You’re going to have to count me out, Kim. I’m sorry, but I draw the line at grand theft. Which is what this would be.” His features were flushed, his lips pressed tight together, his eyes hard. “I’m sorry. But this is way out of line.”

Yeah. How could she have expected anything else? “I understand, Solly.”

“How about chartering a ship? Better yet, rent one. I’ll pilot.”

She’d considered it. But she needed the specialized communication equipment of the Institute vessels.

“I’ll help you pay for it,” he said.

“Won’t work. We need FAULS.” That was the Flexible Array, Unified Long-range Sensing System. If somebody did a radio broadcast a hundred light-years out, FAULS would pick it up.

“Kim,” he said. “Let it go.”

Hyperyacht, Inc., had an assortment of interstellars ranging from sleek executive models to economy-class buses. But the cheapest were not licensed for voyages outside the Nine World bubble, and the better ones were impossibly expensive. Worse, even if she could somehow meet the cost and persuade the Institute to let her have the communication gear, it couldn’t be installed.

She put it aside and went home to stare at the ocean.

And to send out resumes. They went to a dozen research institutions around the globe, but she had little hope any would respond favorably. There wasn’t much to put in the Current Projects and Recent Accomplishments blocks.

I am on the verge of making contact with an intelligent species.

Sure I am.

She could have undoubtedly gotten a job somewhere as a fundraiser, but she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life pleading for money. Might as well simply retire to a leisurely existence like the majority of the population. Accept her monthly government allotment and sit on the porch.

She took to haunting the shoreline. The beach was especially appealing in winter, and its bleakness fit her mood. There was rarely anyone else out. Dressed in an insulated suit, she circled the island every day, moving at a rapid clip, stopping occasionally to look at the shells.

A seacoast is a special kind of place, she thought. It’s like the edge of a forest, or the foothills of a mountain range, where we stand at the rim of our daily existence, looking out at something quite different. Occasionally Kim would stay out past twilight, watching the tide run, letting the night roll into her soul. The beach was a sacred place to her, one of those areas where the infinite touches down.

She was in the presence of two oceans, one of water and one of space-time, and they somehow tended, after dark, to get mixed together. Pick the right spot, where the only real sound is the murmur of the surf, and it was possible to stroll along the damp sand and feel her blood run in sync with the tides.

An ocean’s edge is by definition a meeting place between the magnificent and the mundane. We listen to seashells and hear our own heartbeat.

When she got home each day, there was a message waiting from Solly: You okay? How’s everything going? I’ve talked to the people at Albestaadt. They’ve got a position for you if you want it. You’ll have to interview for it, of course, but the fix is in. I’ve told them about you and they’re excited at the prospect.

She responded by thanking him politely: Thanks for your efforts but I don’t think so.

The Moritami Orbital Research Center surprised her by inviting her in to interview for an entry-level researcher’s position. It was conducted at their administrative offices in Marathon and she did well. Interviews were one of her specialties. When they informed her she’d have to live off-world, she knew she had the job. They told her they’d call her and she came back out into the hard sunlight with mixed feelings. But the bright side was she’d be doing astrophysics again.

Again.

Truth was, she’d never really functioned within her specialty.

When she got home, Solly was waiting.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

She wasn’t surprised that he knew. The world community of physicists and astronomers was tight-knit. Information usually got around pretty quickly. “Okay,” she said. “I think they’re going to take me on.”

He was dressed in seagoing casuals, and wore his captain’s cap with its anchor emblem. The cap was pushed over to one side, an affectation he indulged only in her presence because he knew it made him look ridiculous and inevitably cheered her. “So you finally got what you want.”

“Yes.”

“No more fundraising.”

“Nope.”

“Maybe this thing’ll turn out to be a blessing.”

There was something about the phrase, or maybe his tone, or maybe simply his presence. Because suddenly she was angry and her eyes were damp. She wanted so desperately to follow the track of the Hunter. To find out what was out there. To find out what had happened to Emily.

“It’s okay, babe,” he said. He pulled her close and stroked her hair.

“You’re getting your cheek wet,” she said.

He held onto her until she calmed down. Then he stepped back and his blue eyes grew intense. “Listen.” He took off his cap, ran his fingers through his hair, and put it back on. Straight, this time. “If you’re still up to it, we can take the Hammersmith.”

She looked at him, not sure she’d heard correctly. “You talked them into letting us use one of the ships?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “But I guess maybe we could take it.”

Twenty minutes later, she called Moritami. “Thanks for considering me,” she told them. “But I’m going to be unavailable for awhile.”