Starhawk

Chapter 41

JAKE CAME BACK through the air lock while Priscilla held her breath, listening for the radiation alarm. But it remained silent.

“I guess,” Jake said, “it’s time to fold the tent.”

“I have an idea,” said Priscilla.

“If,” Andrea said, “you are planning to continue this mission, I suggest we return to the Baumbachner and refuel.”

“What’s your idea?” asked Jake.

* * *

THEY WENT BACK to the ship, where Priscilla retrieved one of the imagers from the library. Then she sat down in the pilot’s seat and connected the unit to the feed. “Myra, I’d like to take a look at the record from Jake’s descent to the Vincenti lander.”

The AI put it on-screen, the line of lights, at first no more than distant sparks seen through wispy clouds. Then a gradual brightening as Jake moved closer, the wave effect taking hold, the sparks growing into stars, then into luminous spheres. A perfect line of lights from front to rear. No way that could be anything but a signal.

Jake watched while she recorded it for the imager. When she’d finished, she ran a test, reproducing the lights on the bridge. Then she sat back and smiled. “Ready to go,” she said.

* * *

THE VINCENTI LANDER was shrouded on its hilltop.

“You know,” Jake said, after he’d turned them around and shut off the engines, “I don’t see any point in going back to the wreckage. We’re in the general area. That should be enough.”

“Okay,” she said.

They climbed out of their seats, and activated the Flickinger fields. Priscilla collected her imager. They went through the air lock, and a soft wind pushed at her. “Midnight World,” she said. “Where the sun never rises.” She looked up at the hill on which the Vincenti lander had come to rest.

“When you’re ready,” said Jake.

She aimed the imager directly ahead, raised it a bit above ground level, and turned it on. Two soft lights appeared, and the landscape brightened.

* * *

THEY WATCHED WITHOUT moving. “Jake, I have a question.”

“I’m listening.”

“If there really is someone here, and they did, somehow, bring the lander down, why didn’t they make an effort to save Otto?”

“Maybe,” said Jake, “they realized they had no way to get to him without killing him.”

She was looking around, hoping the lights would draw a response. The wind was moving the snow around.

“Try the entire series,” said Jake. “We might need all seven of the lights.”

She’d reproduced only two because she’d wanted to maintain the actual dimensions of the display, the size and degree of luminosity and the distance between the lights. In showing all of them, she’d lose that. But—She made the adjustment, and the original seven appeared. She raised the angle, putting them higher overhead.

“Good,” said Jake. “If that doesn’t do it, I think we’re out of options.” He turned toward her. “Why don’t you let me hold it for a while?”

The imager wasn’t heavy, but her arm tired quickly in the excess gravity. She handed it over.

The breeze kept pushing at her. But the landscape remained dark and motionless. “I guess,” she said, “it’s a fool’s errand.”

“Maybe.”

She walked clear of the lander, so she could see in all directions. “Anybody out here?” she asked. But it was a radio transmission; only Jake could have heard her. After a minute or two, she raised her hands. “Nope,” she said. “Nada.”

“Maybe it’s just as well, Priscilla. Wouldn’t want a bunch of bloodthirsty aliens sneaking up on us.”

“Hey!” she said. “That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“Wait a minute.” She had her right hand out, palm open. “I think it’s raining.”

Jake held out his own hand. Nothing. “Andrea,” he said, “what’s the temperature?”

“Eleven degrees centigrade,” said the AI.

“That’s up a little bit,” he said.

Priscilla wanted to screech. “Up about 170 degrees.”

Now Jake was looking in all directions, including up. “Priscilla, I’m not sure what’s going on—Hang on a second.” He had both hands out.

Something splatted into his palm.

* * *

PRISCILLA’S JOURNAL

There have been all kinds of scenarios for first-contact events: aliens show up orbiting Neptune; aliens who are so tiny that when they arrive without preliminary, somebody mistakes their lander for a football; aliens coming in from another dimension, but they’re unable to see us, or we them. Some first contacts actually happened. The ancient monument on Iapetus. Ruins on Quraqua. Whoever it had been that Dave Simmons ran into at Talios. The only local functional aliens were on Nok, and they had turned out to be boring. Who could have believed that? Now we have this one: Aliens say hello by making it rain.

But Jake thinks the correct pronoun should be it rather than they.

—February 9, 2196