The Infinity Link (39 page)

(She's right,) Kadin interjected. (And I must say that I am in agreement with her position. For us to have come this far, and for you to withdraw your trust and support now, makes no sense. We are on the doorstep of another civilization, and even if we fail, we deserve the opportunity to at least fail trying. We are wasting precious time in this debate.)

There was another silence, then Marshall. (Very well. Open communication with the visitors, and at your discretion, request a meeting. Keep us closely informed.)

(Acknowledged,) said Kadin. His face beamed with golden light. Mozy merely nodded. (Now, would you like to continue the tour?)

In the gloom of the link, Jonders smiled in silent jubilation as the view shifted back to the camera, and the inscrutable alien landscape.

"There's no
question
that it's worth pursuing. I have an extremely good source, independent of Gerschak, who tells me there
is
something outside the solar system transmitting signals, and that contact may be made with it very soon." Payne squinted at Teri Renshaw's image.

"That's pretty vague. Do you have any details? What kind of contact?" Teri asked.

Payne hunched toward the phone. "I'm not sure. But it's definitely alien, and the
Father Sky
spaceship is involved."

Teri glanced away for a moment, speaking with someone off-screen. Then she was back, apologizing. "Can you confirm that? We couldn't commit something that sensitive to air without at least one strong additional source for confirmation."

"That's what I'm saying," Payne said. "I need time. I don't know how deep this thing goes. It could take a while to sweat it all out. That's why you've got to keep them from cutting me off."

"Well, I'm trying. But you know what they're saying, the ratings on your first report weren't that great—"

"Ratings!" Payne snorted. "How could ratings mean anything on a first story? People either happened to be watching, or they didn't. No one knew about it in advance—"

"I understand that. But the point is, they're waiting for a follow-up."

"I'm working on it. And I'm working on a second source."

"Good. But it would help if you came down and talked with the backers again."

"I will, Teri. Tuesday. Or Wednesday."

"They may have given up on you by then."

"Well, I need some time to gather myself. I've hardly seen Denine—and I want to talk to Gerschak again—"

Teri suddenly laughed. "That's the life of a big-time scoper—"

"Yeah. Oh, yeah. Listen to the hotshot." He said it good-naturedly, but there was an edge of frustration in his voice.

"Now, don't take it personally—"

Payne took a long breath. He was more anxious than he had realized. Anxious, and determined to succeed. "Look, can't you go to bat for me with the backers?"

She studied him for a moment, then relented. "All right. If you can't make it sooner than Tuesday, I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks."

"Listen, Joe, I don't mean to bug you. But it's business, and we have to keep business and friendship separate. Do you know what I mean?"

Payne tipped his head from side to side, shrugging. "Yeah."

"So I still like you. Okay?" A corner of her mouth was turned up in a smile. Her eyes sparked.

He blushed. "Yeah."

"So will you let me buy you dinner when you get here?"

"Okay."

"And get to work on that other source!"

"I will." Payne broke the phone connection and settled back in his chair. He was aware of a feeling of sexual arousal, which was interesting, and disturbing. Teri? Good heavens, he didn't feel that way about her, anymore. Or at least, he thought he didn't. Today, though, he'd caught himself noticing her chest, as they talked.

Careful, boy. Watch those thoughts.

He took a deep breath and started to punch in Donny Alvarest's number, then hesitated. How was he going to go about this? He couldn't fish for information directly, not with the security restrictions Donny had to work around. But a good reporter knew how to finesse this sort of thing.

He flipped through the notes from his last conversation with Ellen Chang at JPL. They'd talked twice, since his broadcast, once in person and once by phone. It was powerful stuff. She seemed almost eager now to give him information. She'd told him—strictly on deep background, so he couldn't quote it directly—that her sources were directly involved in research at Tachylab. That was good, that was very good. He hadn't pressed her, and didn't blame her for not naming them, since they were obviously in a delicate position. Nevertheless, Chang had assured him straightforwardly that
Father Sky
was involved in contacting the source of the alien transmissions.

Alleged
transmissions, Payne cautioned himself. Now, more than ever, he had to be careful what he said and didn't say, even to himself.

He punched the first four digits of Donny's number again. "Joe?" He looked up. Denine was leaning in the doorway. She was in jeans and workshirt, her hair up in a bandana.

He switched off the phone. "Hi."

"What are you up to?" she asked, walking in, touching a hand to his shoulder. Her voice sounded strained; something was bothering her.

He flipped at the cover of his notepad. "Just following up the story. You?"

"Oh—" She shrugged. "Thinking about the new Olsen commission. Joe?"

"Yeah?"

She leaned against his desk to face him. "I was thinking of writing to Mrs. Moi again. Telling her that you were out there—that a friend was out there and did some checking around, and that Mozy seems to have disappeared. Then she'd at least know
something
." She scratched under her bandana.

He mulled for a moment. "Do you think it would help, or just make her more worried? Why don't you wait? Maybe next time I'll turn up some real information."

"You're definitely going again?"

"If the backers don't dump me. This whole story is tied up in that place—I think."

"Mmm." Denine nodded. "Well. That would be good, I guess. I wish there were some excuse for me to go with you."

"Why don't you?" Payne said reflexively, and at once knew that he didn't really want her along.

She shrugged. "I'd just be in your way. Besides, I have too much work to do."

He caught her hand. "You okay, sprite?"

"Uh-huh. I'll let you get back to work," she said, forcing a smile. She wrapped her fingers around his and gave a squeeze, then slipped away.

Payne looked after her as she went out the door and thought, something's happening here, and I don't think I like it. The easy closeness to Denine seemed to be getting more difficult, and less close. Was it because he'd been away? Or, God forbid, had she sensed his attraction to another woman, even before he had? Dee wasn't one to share her man, even in casual thought.

Maybe Teri was right. Maybe a loss of home life was the price of being a successful newscoper. If so, things were going to get worse before they got better.

* * *

He became jovial once Alvarest was on the phone. He had only spoken to his friend once since their encounter at the rock revival festival. "You're a hard one to reach, Donny. Don't you answer your phone anymore?"

Alvarest grinned. "Thanks to you, I've been working a lot of overtime. You created quite a stir in the department with that story of yours."

"
Your
department? I thought you were only involved in intelligence from other countries." Payne swallowed. "What kind of a stir?"

"Oh, just suspicion that somebody's leaking information to you. Thanks for letting me know in advance, you turd. I didn't even see your story until they got a copy from your network."

"Sorry. I meant to call you. Never got the chance."

"Well, they'd just better not find out I'm talking to you now."

"Better not, is right," Payne said. "Not at the rates I'm paying for secure phone calls. I don't suppose you could answer a few questions for me."

Alvarest laughed grimly. "Whatever rates you're paying, it's not
that
secure."

Payne scratched his jaw, chuckling uneasily. "So what else can we talk about?"

"Oh, we could start with the time of day—though it's debatable whether I should give it to you. Still, I don't think I'd have to turn you in for asking."

"That's a relief." Payne thought for a moment. "Say, Donny, old boy."

Alvarest's eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch.

"I wouldn't want you to compromise yourself, as you know. But when you say, 'People think someone's leaking to you,' that would seem to suggest, just from, oh, a linguistic perspective, not to say common sense, that I might regard that as a sort of left-handed confirmation of my story."

Alvarest cleared his throat. "
Very
left-handed."

"Well, nothing against lefties. I'm just trying to understand what you said. Wouldn't
you
say that it's—?"

"Shit, Joe, I thought you quality journalists confirmed your stories
before
you went on the air with them."

"Well, yes. But, you know, there's no such thing as too much confirmation."

"If you're asking me to vouch for your story, forget it. You've wormed too much out of me already."

"Wormed—!"

"Splinters under the fingernails."

Payne snorted—then thought, Was Donny, indirectly, trying to hint that his interpretation was correct? That he could regard his story as being confirmed?

Alvarest looked sideways for a moment. "Joe, I hate to cut into a beautiful conversation, but my dinner is about to burn."

"Okay. Just one more thing," Payne said hastily. "Could you comment if I told you that I knew that
Father Sky
was getting ready to hook up with an alien spaceship?"

"Are you on drugs? No way."

"Oh. Well, okay. I just thought I'd ask."

Alvarest looked at him with a pained expression. "If you're planning to run a story like that, I hope you're
very careful
with your facts."

"I will be. Listen, since you can't comment, would you happen to know anyone connected with
Father Sky
, or Tachylab, who might be able to give me some background information?"

"Background?" Alvarest repeated.

"Sure. Just background."
Deep
background, dummy.

"Not offhand. You going to be down here soon?"

"Probably. Should I look you up?"

"I wouldn't want to be heard saying, you
should
." Alvarest looked toward his dinner again.

"Okay. If I happen to bump into you, so be it."

"Can't be helped, I guess, if you run into me. Joe, I see smoke!"

"Bye," Payne said. "Thanks!"

He stared moodily at the darkened screen for a time afterward, leaning back in his chair. He felt a nagging guilt about trying to impose on his friend. Donny, after all, was in a sensitive position. Maybe it didn't matter. They hadn't actually discussed anything classified, after all. But—if Donny's department was involved, this was probably a good time to make himself scarce, where Donny was concerned, if he didn't want to put his friend's job in jeopardy.

So much for his "other source."

From a quarter of a light-year, the sun was one star among hundreds of thousands. In the pale illumination, Kadin and Mozy were forced to amplify the images to about thirty times their original brightness as they inspected the surface of the asteroid, or at least the fraction visible from the spacecraft. They used spotlights only briefly, not wanting to alarm their hosts.

On first impression, what they saw was a little disappointing. The place looked pretty much like any other asteroid. The surface appeared brownish black in color, with here and there a metallic glint, and the expected pitting and micrometeoroid erosion. There was no external evidence of habitation, nothing to suggest visibly that it was anything more than a lifeless rock. Seismic probes listening at the surface, however, confirmed that it was indeed hollow, and furthermore, detected sounds of internal activity, a symphony of murmurs and groans.

Someone was in there, all right—and Mozy and Kadin were so busy probing and speculating on how one might get inside that they almost failed to react, when they received a transmission from the aliens in MacEnglish. (My god!) Mozy cried, as the words flowed into her mind:

(WE WELCOME YOU TO OUR TRAVELING HOME, AND THANKS BE FOR TROUBLING TO GREET US. WILL YOU COME WITHIN? DO WE MADE OURSELVES UNDERSTOOD? TELL US, OH. TELL US, DO.)

Mozy was so astonished that she had to replay it to catch the meaning.

(Remarkable,) Kadin said. (An invitation. They've been studying our language, apparently, far more efficiently than we have theirs.)

It was true, Mozy had to admit. She hoped they did a tenth as well in their attempts to use the alien tongue. (What are we going to tell them?)

Kadin already had the channel open. (Your mastery of our language is excellent. Our thanks and congratulations.)

(WE HAVE LISTENED TO MANY OF YOUR BROADCASTS. WILL YOU COME WITHIN?)

(Indeed, we would like to. May we send a remotely controlled extension of ourselves, a mechanism to send us pictures and sounds of your home?)

(A . . . WE ARE NOT CERTAIN OF OUR UNDERSTANDING . . . A "REMOTELY CONTROLLED EXTENSION"?)

(A machine. Like the one in which we came, but much smaller.)

(THAT WOULD BE SATISFACTORY. BUT YOU ARE WELCOME TO COME IN BODY . . . IN PERSON.)

Kadin tried to explain that the spacecraft
was
their body. (I am called "Kadin." I am a creation of Humans, and exist only in this form, as a machine. With me is one called "Mozy," who is a true Human, but no longer in bodily form. Her essence, her personality, lives with me in this machine.)

(LIVING PERSONALITIES IN NONLIVING BODIES? HOW D0 YOU CONVEY YOUR THOUGHTS TO US?)

(We . . . convey our thoughts directly, through a transmitter. Programs and filters help us . . . organize our thoughts into forms that . . . can be expressed through tachyon or radio links.) Kadin paused. (It is difficult to explain out of context, How do you convey your thoughts?)