Sunborn (9 page)

   
*You will know us through our actions,*
 whispered a voice, as though to reassure her.

    How very biblical of you, she thought. But when do I see your actions?

    Was this how John had felt, isolated and caught up in incomprehensible forces? Had he wondered, as she desperately did now,
Why is this happening to me?

*

   
The meeting with the brass was not going well.

    They wanted answers, and she had few to give.

    Arrayed around the table were several of the station administrators—Cole Jackson, Lonnie Stelnik, and a couple of others; she was used to dealing with them. But added to the mix were visiting VIPs from various oversight bodies. A man named Mackler represented a UN agency; Dr. Takashi of MINEXFO, the Mining Expeditionary Force, was here; he was joined by his boss, Special Envoy Dr. Keith Lamarr.

    And Julie, in the hot seat.

    “Miss Stone,” said Dr. Takashi, “in the past two months, we’ve tried various methods of studying the translator, none of which have produced usable data. We have tried, twice, to move it into our labs here, with spectacularly expensive results in ruined equipment. You’re the only one it will talk to, and we need you to talk to us.”

    Julie opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She wanted to say,
You don’t understand, there’s a danger to Earth!
But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she felt the familiar pressure in her head—not painful or threatening, but inhibiting. The stones did not want her to talk about that yet. She drew a slow, steady breath, and said the only thing she could think of: “I don’t know what you want from me.” She felt like an idiot saying it. /Why won’t you let me talk?/

   
*You will be able to soon.*

   
“Really, Miss Stone, I think we’ve been pretty clear about what we expect,” Dr. Lamarr said. He was a salt-and-pepper-haired man of fifty-something, and he conveyed a distinct aura of quiet power. “We expect you to initiate communication with the extraterrestrial device—”

    “I
have
 opened communication.”

    “We mean communication that is
not exclusive to you.
”

    “It’s not as if I haven’t tried,” Julie said. “I’ve
asked
it to speak to other people besides me. I don’t know why it won’t. But I can’t force it.” To the wrist-stones, she muttered, /Can’t you give me
something
 to say to them?/

    The stones said nothing, but seemed to be thinking.

    Cole Jackson, Director of Survey Operations, spoke up in a gravelly voice. “Doesn’t seem like the thing wants to talk to much of anyone.”

    “It’s talked to at least two people,” Lamarr said with careful patience. “And I want to know—what’s so special about John Bandicut and Julie Stone? Is that so unreasonable to ask?” His gaze never left Julie.

    She felt her face redden. “No, it’s not,” she whispered. Then she felt the stones stirring, and she pressed her fingertips to her brow, half closing her eyes.

   
*Tell them this: the translator is gathering important data. When it is finished, it will have a message. And it will be requesting transport to Earth.*

   
She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again.

    “Yes, Miss Stone? Was there something you wanted to say?”

    Clearing her throat, she repeated what the stones had told her. /Is that all? Nothing more?/

   
*Not at this time.*

   
Lamarr echoed her own question: “Nothing more?” She shook her head. Lamarr’s exasperation was evident. “Miss Stone, if this object—”

    “The translator.”

    “Forgive me. If the
translator
intends peaceful interaction with humanity, isn’t it just logical that it would explore communication with a variety of people, not just one, or two? That it should have picked
only
 you, out of all the people on Triton—it just seems odd, doesn’t it?”

    “It does,” she acknowledged.

    “Isn’t it possible that—how shall I put this—?”

    Julie flared. “What—that I’m lying to you?”

    “I didn’t say that.”

    “But it’s what you meant, isn’t it?”

    Lamarr pressed his lips together, revealing no emotions.

    She knew she should shut up; she’d already said too much. But...“It’s just like the way you thought John was lying, even though the evidence was right there in front of your faces that he stopped a comet from hitting Earth.”

    “Evidence,” Lamarr said softly. “The evidence
I
 know of says that Mr. Bandicut stole and destroyed a very expensive spacecraft.”

    “Telescope cameras recorded the collision with the comet!”

    “Cameras recorded a collision. But whether it was a comet, or our spacecraft, is another question altogether, isn’t it?”

    Julie raised her hands and dropped them, giving up.

    “All right,” Lamarr said. “I think—unless someone else has a question for Miss Stone?—we’re through with this part of the meeting. Miss Stone, you may return to your duties, but we’d like to talk to you again tomorrow...”

*

   
Julie made her way back to her office in exoarch, but didn’t stay long. There was no way she could do any useful work in this state. She headed to the gym and the centrifuge room. As she jogged around the revolving track at the half-gee level, she tried to clear her mind of it all. It didn’t really work. When she finished, she still had a head full of chaotic thoughts as she trooped back to her quarters for a shower. But at least she was physically tired, which made her feel that she was doing more than simply joust with the air.

    As she struggled into clean clothes, there was a buzz on the comm. “What is it?” she called, pulling a sweatshirt over her head.

    The system answered in the contralto voice she thought of as Hazel: “Julie Stone, you have a holo-message waiting. Origin: Earth.”

    “Who from?” Please don’t let it be another screed from Thomas. Her brother
still
 couldn’t understand why she’d gone to Triton in the first place, and regarded her statements about John Bandicut as pathetic fantasy. Maybe it was from her parents. She was due to hear from them, but they rarely used holo.

    “Sender is Dakota Bandicut,” said Hazel. “Would you like to view it on your screen?”

   
Dakota?
 “No, I’ll take it in the VR room.” If John’s niece had gone to the expense of sending a holo, she wanted to view it in full virtual reality.

    She brushed quickly at her hair, then hurried out. The rec center was on the far side of the main building, but it had three VR rooms, plus food and drink. She swore when she found all three VR rooms occupied. She sat in silence watching two men play a game of EineySteiney; when the door to Room Three opened and one of the miners emerged, she jumped up to take his place. “Hey, if you’re in that much of a hurry for a good time—” he called, but she brushed past him and slammed the door without answering.

    Taking the center seat, she said, “This is Julie Stone. Show me my mail.”

    The room darkened partially, and a figure appeared, standing in a pool of light. It was a half-height image of Dakota Bandicut. Julie had never met the girl, nor spoken to her in real-time, but her appearance was striking. John Bandicut’s niece, now age twelve, had the same jaw line, the same eyes, the same intensity of expression as her uncle.

   
“Julie? Hi. I can’t talk long, because Nan says it costs too much, so I’m paying for this with my own money.”
She gulped, and for a moment seemed paralyzed by the need to speak quickly.
“I just wondered...how you’ve been, and have you heard anything more about what happened to Uncle John? I’ve just been—you know—I don’t hear anything. There’s nothing on the news anymore, and the government hasn’t told us anything.”
 Her face darkened visibly.

    It was all Julie could do to keep from crying out to the image.
I know how you feel! I feel the same way!
“Damn,” she whispered finally, “I wish I could meet you and tell you in person what John did. What I
know
 he did!”

    But she was just talking to herself. With a round-trip signal lag of eight hours, she couldn’t talk back to the holo, not in real-time. All she could do was listen, and compose a reply.

   
“I got your letter. You wouldn’t believe how many people say Uncle John was lying—or crazy. I don’t believe any of them. I believe Uncle John. I know you do, too.”
Dakota fidgeted, biting her lower lip.
“Did I tell you about the college fund he set up for me? He didn’t even tell me about it, and no one told me about it until he was gone. I can’t even thank him for it! But now they’re saying, because he was—because they’re saying he was crazy, maybe it wasn’t legal, the way he set it up. I don’t understand it. And Nan won’t talk about it, she says I’m too young. Julie?
You
don’t think he was crazy, do you? Please say no.”

    Julie felt an anvil drop on her chest. It was all she could do to breathe.
What’s the matter with you people? How can you do that to a twelve-year-old girl?
 By the time she gasped out a pained breath, she realized that Dakota was saying good-bye.

    “Back up thirty seconds,” she commanded the system.

    She listened again to Dakota’s plea, and then a second plea—for Julie to get in touch again.
“It’s not like I don’t have friends. But sometimes it feels like you’re the only one who understands, even though we’ve never met. Do you think, sometime, you...could come back to Earth and see me? I’ll be waiting to hear. I have to go now. Bye.”
 Dakota’s image froze as the recording ended.

   
Yes,
Julie whispered to herself, eyes shut.
Yes, I very much want to do that.

    She opened her eyes. Dakota was still there, a statue. “Yes,” she said softly to the still image. “Somehow. Someday...”

*

   
Emerging from the VR, Julie saw Georgia Patwell waving her over to a table. The sight of her friend raised her spirits; they hadn’t seen each other in days. “Am I glad to see you,” she murmured, sliding into the booth opposite Georgia. She yanked the privacy-curtain closed and slumped in her seat. “You wouldn’t believe this day.”

    “I heard they gave you quite the wringing out,” Georgia said. She extended a finger toward the ordering board and gave Julie an inquiring glance as her fingertip hovered over the draft beer button. Julie nodded emphatically, and Georgia pressed the button. She already had a glass of white wine at her elbow.

    “So,” Julie said, “did Lonnie Stelnik come and crow about it?” The operations supervisor, under Cole Jackson, had gotten in a few digs during the course of the meeting.

    Georgia’s beautiful dark eyes flashed with amusement. “Just as you’d expect. He seemed to think he’d one-upped you pretty well. Somehow I doubted it.”

    Julie chuckled bitterly, then scowled. “Damn it, if the translator won’t tell
me
anything, what am I supposed to do?” When Georgia remained silent, she looked down at her open hands as if the answer might lie there. “The thing is, these people act as if they
own
 it.”

    Georgia sipped from her wine. “Legally, don’t they?”

    “How? How can they?”

    “Well, doesn’t MINEXFO own the rights to anything they find on Triton?”

    “Any
metals
 they find on Triton.”

    “And any artifacts.”

    Julie’s stomach churned. “How about an intelligent—and
sentient
—object that obviously has its own ideas about being independent?”

    “Hey, I’m with you, girl,” Georgia said. “But the consortium
did
 invest about a gazillion dollars in this operation, so it’s understandable that they want something back for it.”

    “Yeah, but they’re going to have to be patient.”

    Georgia cocked her head, studying Julie. “Sure they have to be patient. But why do
you
 feel bad?”

    “Huh?”

    “You do, don’t you?”

    Julie hesitated, startled by the question. She spread her hands on the table. “Well, yeah. I feel like I’m in danger of losing my job if they think I’m holding out on them.”

    Georgia gazed steadily back at her. “Are you? I think it’s time for a reality check, kiddo. Aren’t you the one holding the cards here? Without you, they’ve got nothing. Right? Nothing but a machine that eats their cranes and confounds everything they try to do.”

    “Well, yeah, but—”

    “Jesus, girl, don’t play into their hands!”

    Julie flushed. “That’s not—”

    “They’re making you feel insecure and guilty.” Georgia leaned forward urgently. “But the truth is they need you more than you need them. Am I right?”

    “Well, you can say that, but—” Julie’s voice caught, as Georgia’s words started to get through to her.

    “But what? It’s true, and if you step back for a minute, you’ll realize it. You’ll realize you have nothing to fear from them.” Georgia’s voice was soft but penetrating. “And you’ll stop letting them scare you. Just do the best you can with the translator and quit worrying.”

    Julie stared back at her with her mouth open. Her head was buzzing. Was she crazy? Or was Georgia talking sense? She drew a slow breath. “Maybe you have a point...” She was beginning to realize that Georgia was
completely
right, and she felt a rush of embarrassment and shame that she had allowed herself to be railroaded like that. “No, you’re absolutely right! I’ve been letting them walk all over me.” She turned her head, her face burning now. “Jesus! That’s got to stop. It’s
going
 to stop.”

    “That’a girl!” Georgia reached out and patted her hand soothingly. “Now, shouldn’t you be getting a drink about now?”