Infinity Beach - Jack McDevitt [208]
The shroud opened, blossomed, as had the one at the lakefront before engulfing its victims.
She held out the microship.
“Don’t make any sudden moves,” said Ali.
Kim could barely move at all. Her suit felt claustrophobic.
“We’re getting a reply,” said Tesla.
And Eric: “It says: ‘We are you.’”
“Makes no sense.”
“What are they trying to say?”
“‘We’re of one mind,’” suggested Matt, his voice shaking. “Maybe they understand what we’re trying to do.”
“You really think so?” asked Tesla.
Kim sincerely hoped so.
Ali’s voice: “You guys okay out there?”
She felt a tug at the Valiant. She let go, watched it begin to fall, but slowly, still in gravity’s grip. The mist swirled across its polished hull, embraced it, and the shroud gathered it in.
Kim, heart pounding, heard applause.
And then she and Matt were alone on the roof.
35
During the first few hours, we struggled at the “I am a little red pencil box stage.” But gradually we got past basic syntax. Furthermore, Eric picked up some of their language, which we were able to reproduce on a synthesizer, and we actually started to talk to one another.
—MAURIE PENN, Notebooks, xxvii, 611
Kim had little opportunity to celebrate her victory. Within an hour of watching the Valiant float off into the darkness, off the scanners and scopes of the Mac and the fleet vessels, she was arrested by the captain of the Dauntless, charged with willful misuse of government property and, against the indignant protests of everyone involved, taken on board the banshee to be returned to Greenway.
That wasn’t the problem. At least not the major one. Matt used every argument he could think of to persuade the force commander to rescind his order that the McCollum depart immediately. Ali contrived to scramble a key navigational system, and thereby gained twelve hours during which the contact team worked frantically to establish a constructive relationship with the celestials.
Kim was treated well enough. Her movements were restricted, but her quarters were a step up from Mac’s accommodations. The crew were polite, if not especially convivial. They had been told, she suspected, that she was a major violator, so they maintained a respectful distance. The captain declined to interview her or to see her, explaining through an intermediary that he had no wish to be called into court to testify as to what she had said or not said about her activities.
The small task force of which the Dauntless was part did not leave until the Mac was safely on its way home. Then it too slipped into hyperspace and started the long flight back to Greenway.
Kim did little other than read, work out, and sleep. She twice forwarded requests to the captain, explaining that the scientific project of the age, perhaps of all time, was now going forward, and asking whether the Dauntless could perhaps pop out of hyperspace for an hour to allow her to file a report to her superiors.
“Quite redundant,” the captain replied politely through his representative. He’d be pleased to comply with her request, but he had already forwarded a report. As had the McCollum. He had a copy of the latter presented to her. It contained the electrifying news that the celestials had agreed to a future meeting, to be conducted during the five-hundredth revolution of the gas giant. Several months away.
So it happened that during the second week of August, the Dauntless jumped back into realspace and Kim arrived at Sky Harbor once again expecting to be arrested. And again she was surprised: She was greeted by the Premier himself while a band played, an audience cheered, and the media recorded everything for posterity.
I’ve told you, and I’ve told you, Matt had said, smiling at dockside, never underestimate the power of public relations. It was too big a story, the news too good. There was no way a politician could ignore it. If the celestials turned out later to be dangerous, well, with luck that would happen during somebody else’s watch.
On the way down in the lift, she watched a special report