Infinity Beach - Jack McDevitt [31]
“But there are privacy laws.”
“They’re pretty loose. Most of what you’ve done is out there somewhere if you just know where to look. You want me to show you some samples from your own life?”
“Let it go,” he said.
She smiled, brought the forward section of the Hunter in close, and examined the interior. Lush decor. Leather appointments. Plants. Wall hangings. Your classic executive mansion away from home.
Kim had been on an interstellar liner only once: when she was about twelve the family had gone to Minagwa, where her mother had relatives. It was an eleven-day voyage one way. If her memory was accurate, the rooms were small, the bulkheads dingy gray, and she’d thought the flight would never end. It had been exciting when they’d jumped out near that world’s brilliant gold sun. And Minagwa itself was a lovely place, twin worlds, both inhabited, both with oceans. But it hadn’t been worth the privations. When two months later she got back to Greenway she’d promised herself that was it. No more long-range travel bottled up in a glorified canister. And she kept her promise. She’d never done it again. Although she would have been willing to reconsider if someone had offered a flight on the Hunter.
The sale in 574 had been to a distillery executive. It changed hands several times over the next six years before Worldwide finally picked it up in a bankruptcy transaction. They were using it primarily to move executives and occasionally to chauffeur political figures.
She looked through the specifications, examining the details of the propulsion and navigation systems, life support, the onboard AI, and anything else that might eventually help. She was surprised to discover that the ship’s radio was omnidirectional, with enhancements.
That seemed odd until she recalled Hunter’s mission and the expectations of its passengers. They were not looking simply for life, but for intelligence. For them, success would come in one of two ways: the discovery of a city, or an encounter with another ship. If they found a city, they’d need general, rather than directed, broadcast capabilities. Hello to everybody. Kim was impressed: these people didn’t think small.
“Shepard,” she said, “connect me with Worldwide.”
The AI complied and a Worldwide graphic appeared onscreen, an animated starship smiling as it approached the corporation’s orbiting facility. A bay opened and light blazed out. A human hand wrote the Worldwide motto in gold script: STYLE AND SUBSTANCE. Then Kim was looking at a young woman, tall, blond, reserved.
“Good evening, Dr. Brandywine,” the woman said, reading Kim’s name off her monitor. “My name is Melissa. May I be of assistance?”
“Hello, Melissa. I’m a researcher for the Seabright Institute. I’d like very much to get a look at the Hunter. In person.”
She smiled and consulted something out of the picture. “Of course, Doctor. I can’t see that there’d be any difficulty. When did you wish to come by?”
“Friday?”
“That’ll be fine. Would late afternoon, say four P.M., be convenient?”
“Yes,” said Kim. “Thank you. Oh, and one more thing? I’m especially interested in the ship’s history.”
“Ah yes.” A smile appeared at the corners of Melissa’s lips. “The Mount Hope business.”
“That too,” she said. “Can you tell me whether it’s possible to see the logs for the last Tripley Foundation flight?”
“Oh, I’m afraid not, Dr. Brandywine. We really don’t have anything to do with that. I mean, the logs were never here.”
“Oh? Do you know who would have them?”
“I’m sure they’d have been turned over to the Archives when the ship first changed hands. That’s required by law.”
“Thank you, Melissa.” She signed off and summoned Shepard again. “I want to send a hypercomm message.”
“To?”
“I’m not sure. Operations at St. Johns. Check their administrative structure and you figure out where it should go.”
“Very good. Text?”
“Request the flight plan for the Hunter, last mission for the Tripley Foundation, Green way year 573. Look up the date, whatever