Sunborn (25 page)

    “Well, then—”

    “But look here—look at
*
Brightburn
*
 now. Watch it for a minute.”

    Bandicut shifted his gaze again. It looked as though the star had grown
smaller
. “Why? What’s it—holy shit, Jeaves. What’s happening? Is it
shrinking
? Are we moving away from it that fast?”

    “Yes, it’s shrinking,” the robot answered. “And no, it’s not just because we’re moving away so fast—although we are.”

    “Then
why?
”

    “We believe it’s because Deep—well, because Deep is no longer creating the fusion of
time
 that made all this possible.”

    Bandicut shook his head. “I’m not sure I—”

    “You understand that Deep squeezed months, maybe even years, of
*
Brightburn
*
’s time together into an interval that would match your visit, so that you could converse. Yes?”

    “Um...sort of. But I don’t understand
how
—”

    “I don’t, either. But the point is, we were watching
*
Brightburn
*
’s death
in compressed time.
”

    Bandicut stared back out at the shrinking sun. “And now?”

    “The time-fusion is relaxing, and the events that were squeezed from your future into the present are returning to the future.
*
Brightburn
*
 is indeed going through an end-of-life expansion, but you might watch it over the next few years, or few hundred years. We are not in danger of being caught in its shock wave.” Jeaves gave a dry chuckle. “We have plenty of other worries. But not that one.”

    Bandicut blinked at him. “That,” he said, “is very...very...weird.” As he slowly caught his breath, he added, “So then, where exactly are we heading now?”

    “Out of this star system and on course for the heart of Starmaker Nebula,” Jeaves said. “Following Deep, who we
believe
—” and the robot paused to nod to Antares “—knows where he’s going.”

Chapter 16

Earthward Bound

    The boosters felt like outstretched hands beneath Julie, lifting the small shuttle toward Triton orbit. The launch was gentler than she’d expected. She turned her head against the cushion and peered out the window as Triton’s frozen surface of nitrogen and methane fell away beneath her. The landscape began to slant away as the shuttle rolled into flight attitude. Her last sight of Triton was a puff of a nitrogen eruption against the horizon. Then all she saw was blackness, and stars.
    The acceleration increased gradually as they climbed toward orbit around Neptune’s largest moon. She sighed back against the headrest and closed her eyes. Though the shuttle carried a handful of passengers, she’d avoided conversation, preferring the silence of her own thoughts. Her thoughts were dominated by the enigmatic translator, riding in the cargo hold beneath her. Julie would oversee its transfer into the hold of MINEXFO’s interplanetary transport,
Park Avenue.
And before the day was out, the transport’s engines would light, sending them on their way home to Earth.

    It occurred to Julie that the liftoff of this little shuttle was like the closing of a knife blade, neatly dividing her life; she was leaving Triton, probably forever. She didn’t know why this moment should feel so singularly irrevocable. But at least she was on her way back to where the sun could warm her face; she sometimes forgot how much she missed the sun. She wondered if being out here in perpetual night led to skewed ways of thinking.

    She recalled Georgia’s final words as they’d hugged at the airlock.
“Don’t be a stranger. Stay in touch, okay?”

    She’d murmured back a feeble reassurance:
Of course I will. I’ll let you know everything that happens. Look for my holos.

    But the truth was, she already felt like a stranger. Not to Georgia, but to herself. She felt, as she set out with this unknown alien power, as if she were taking the first steps down a strange and slippery slope.

   
Don’t be a stranger...

   
She was traveling with a most remarkable stranger. Gazing out the window at the curving horizon of the majestic blue planet that dominated the Triton sky, she wondered if the translator, in its crate, was aware of Neptune, or of the greater solar system around them.

    She wondered what the translator was thinking right now.

    What it was planning.

*

   
Julie had little time to enjoy the change of pace of the Triton Orbital Station and take in the views from its observation ports. From the moment of docking in orbit, she was busy overseeing the moving and securing of the translator in the hold of the ship that would take them to Earth. The
Park Avenue
 was a modest-sized interplanetary transport, but it was so much larger than anything that ever descended to Triton’s surface that it seemed like a luxury liner. On the outside, it was shaped like something an imaginative child might have assembled from moldable silver play pieces. On the inside, it had cabins and common space and corridors, and most of all, a decent-sized cargo hold.

   
She was in the corridor outside the hold now, gripping the handrail to keep from floating away, as she watched the ship’s crew move pallets around and fiddle with the securing of the translator’s crate.

    “Is everything satisfactory, Ms. Stone?”

    Julie pushed back from the window and rotated to face the navy-blue-uniformed officer who had spoken: Lieutenant Henry Cohn, if she remembered correctly. “Hard to say,” she said. “Will the compartment be pressurized in time for me to check on the translator before we leave orbit?” The loading had taken much longer than she’d expected.

    Lieutenant Cohn shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We’re on a tight schedule. We’ll be calling all the passengers to their cabins for departure in just a few minutes.” He peered at her curiously for a moment. “May I ask—are you in contact with the translator now?”

    Julie shook her head and felt her body twisting slightly with the movement. She was still getting used to zero gee. “It’s not like that. I have to be a lot closer—and
it
 has to make the contact. I’m not even sure what it’s aware of through this wall.”

    “Is it important that you make contact before we depart?” Cohn asked.

    Julie shrugged. Truthfully, she had no idea. But if the translator didn’t like the way it was being secured aboard the ship, she’d rather know sooner than later. The spacesuited workers were now clamping its crate to large mounting brackets on the floor of the cargo bay where a space had been reserved for it. If it had any special requirements, she didn’t know about them.

   
*Not necessary.*

   
She started at the voice in her head. The stones had been silent since before her departure from the mining base.

   
*The arrangement is satisfactory, as long as there is access in flight.*

   
Julie cleared her throat and said to the officer, “As long as I can have access once we’re under way...”

    “As soon as we’re clear of orbit, and under steady boost,” Cohn assured her. “With the permission of Dr. Lamarr, of course. He has final authority over everything having to do with the translator.”

   
Of course he does,
Julie thought with a sigh.
Or thinks he does.
 She forced a smile. “Thank you.”

*

   
She finally went to find her berth. Though the ship was large compared to anything local, room was still at a premium. Her cabin was a third the size of her compartment on Triton station, and it was not hers alone. As she was sorting through her bags, a young woman floated in the doorway and nearly landed on top of her. The energetic-looking brunette reminded Julie of herself, a few years ago.

    “Whoa,” the woman said, pulling herself to a stop. “Hi. I’m Arlene—your roommate. You’re Julie Stone.”

    “That’s right.” Shaking hands, Julie tried to back into one end of the compartment to make room. “Arlene, you said? What department are you in?”

    “Language analysis.” Arlene rotated in midair and pointed to the left-hand row of drawers in the built-in cabinet. “Those are yours. I already put my things in the other side.”

    “Ah. Thanks.”

    “I came in from Earth on the
Park Ave.
 with Dr. Lamarr. I’ve been working here in orbit, studying the recordings of your interactions with the translator.” Arlene hooked her wrist into a restraint to stay out of Julie’s way. The zero-gee trick seemed perfectly natural to the woman, as though she were resting in an easy chair. “It’s been absolutely fascinating—the recordings, I mean. I have a hundred questions for you.”

    Julie felt herself stiffening, as the meaning of Arlene’s words sank in. “You’ve been...studying...”

    “All the holos, all the sound recordings.” Arlene had a look of excitement on her face, and a complete absence of guile. “I’ve been analyzing for patterns of various sorts, and trying to correlate your descriptions of what you’ve heard and felt with all the readings we have on your biometrics—breath rate, synaptic rate, various kinds of brainwave functions—everything we’ve recorded.”

   
Julie felt her head spinning. “Which you got—?”

    “Excuse me?”

    “How did you
get
 all of that data?”

    Arlene looked puzzled. “Well, it was all recorded from the sensors in your suit when you communicated with the translator. You know about that, right?”

    Julie shook her head. “
Brainwave
 sensors? There were no brainwave recorders in my suit that I know of.”

    “Um...they were put in after your first encounter, when you lost consciousness.” A frown grew on Arlene’s face. “You didn’t know?” Obviously Julie’s dismay was showing, because Arlene winced. “Oh dear. They must have forgotten to tell you.” She bit her lip in embarrassment. “Or maybe they didn’t want to make you self-conscious and—you know—skew the readings.”

    “Yes, I suppose that must have been it.” Julie cleared her throat noisily. “So—did you learn anything interesting about me—or the translator?”

    Arlene shrugged. “Nothing definitive. But there’s a lot I want to get your viewpoint on. You know, having just the biometric readings leaves it all pretty abstract and—cold, I guess.”

    “I imagine it would, yes,” Julie said, trying not to feel cold herself, as she envisioned a stranger poring in secret over her biometric readings. What embarrassing thoughts or urges had she had while hooked up to Lamarr’s spy sensors?

    Arlene’s frown deepened. “I get the feeling I’ve just made you really uncomfortable.”

    “No, it’s fine.” The lie was obviously transparent. “Really.” She was no more convincing the second time.

    “I’m sorry,” Arlene said. “I never meant to pry. I was just sitting in a room at Triton Orbital, analyzing the information they gave me. I never imagined they’d take readings without telling you.”

   
I’m sure you didn’t.
Julie immediately felt guilty for the thought.
Okay, you probably didn’t. Why would they tell you?
 “Listen, I’d better get my stuff stowed for departure.”

    “Okay,” said Arlene. “I have to go check on something, real quick. I’ll be right back.”

    As Arlene disappeared, Julie took stock of storage in the cabin. It was pretty tight, but since she was going to be living here for several months, she’d better settle in as best she could. She quickly unpacked her most comfortable clothes and crammed them into the little built-in drawers, and stowed her toiletries, books, and other personal items into a small set of closable cubbies. She had to chase a few items that began to float away across the room. She’d forgotten the little tricks of weightlessness she’d learned on the trip out. As she turned to close her duffel, which was still half full, she saw a message scrolling on the comm panel:

“Welcome to the MINEXFO shuttle Park Avenue. Please click the acknowledgment icon beside your name to notify our staff when you have stowed your belongings and are ready for departure. All luggage items should be stowed in the under-bunk compartments.”

   
Julie wrestled her duffel into the tight compartment under her bunk, then turned and clicked the acknowledgment key.

    “Thank you,” said a male voice from the panel. “Departure will be in
nine
minutes. For your safety, regulations require that you strap yourself into your bunk for ignition and initial acceleration. Observe the signs on the walls to determine the correct ship-vertical attitude. Acceleration will reach one-fourth gee approximately ten seconds after ignition. Please remain in your bunk until the restraints sign has gone out, and use caution in moving about until you have adapted to the new gravitational conditions. For your own safety, all passengers will be monitored by remote cam for the first half hour of flight. If you have any questions, press the call button without delay.”

   
So don’t pick your nose or scratch in any embarrassing places...

*

   
Arlene returned about thirty seconds before the first warning horn. She and Julie strapped in, Arlene on the bottom bunk, Julie on the top. They talked little, except for Arlene’s voicing a wish for windows so they could watch the departure. Julie, preoccupied by other thoughts, didn’t answer.

    When the departure boost finally came, it seemed almost anticlimactic—a gentle pressure pushing her back into the memory-foam of the bunk. Julie couldn’t wait to get up and move around. The one-quarter Earth gravity produced by the ship’s acceleration made her feel heavy, after the one-thirteenth gee of Triton, but it was mild compared to her exercise periods on the centrifuge track. It was just going to last a little longer—something close to this all the way to Earth.