A Voice in the Night

MAIDEN VOYAGE

For Priscilla Hutchins, it was the experience she’d always dreamed of: her qualification flight, a mission that would take her to seven planetary systems, and ultimately to her pilot’s license.

The most exciting destination, she thought, would be Fomalhaut, a white main sequence dwarf, about twice the size of Earth’s sun, and sixteen times brighter. But that wasn’t what had captured her imagination. Fomalhaut’s system contained the first extrasolar planet actually seen through a telescope. It was a giant world, three times the size of Jupiter. But the real news came when we’d actually arrived in the system: the largest satellite in its family of moons was home to one of the alien constructs that eventually became known as the Great Monuments. Put in place by an unknown entity thousands of years ago. By the time of her qualification flight, a total of eleven had been discovered, scattered around the Orion Arm. They are magnificent sculptures, set on moons and asteroids and small planets, and occasionally simply placed in their own orbits. The first was discovered long before we had achieved interstellar flight. On Iapetus. It depicts a lizard-like female creature believed to be a self-portrait of the sculptor. And it was a major factor in restarting a long-stalled space program.

Since she’d been a little girl, Hutch had wanted to see the Iapetus monument, but she’d had to settle for turning out the lights in her living room and looking up at a virtual representation. She’d felt a kinship with the alien creature gazing placidly across that destitute landscape at the ringed planet, which was permanently frozen on the horizon. Never rising, never setting. Priscilla had sat on her sofa sipping orange juice. She didn’t want to pretend to be at the site. She wanted to be there. To touch the stone image. To trace with her fingers the alien characters cut into its base.

No one had ever deciphered their meaning.

The monument at Fomalhaut was an abstract. A ring with an angled cross bar extending past the sides, mounted on a base. As always, the base had an inscription in unfamiliar characters.

It was made of rock extracted at the site, but the monument possessed an ethereal strain, heightened by multiple sources of moonlight, as if its natural habitat included trees, water, and the sounds of insects.

But before Hutch and the Copperhead could get to it, there’d be a routine stop at Groombridge 1618 to drop off supplies and passengers. Her parents had been unhappy when she’d announced her intention to pilot interstellars. Even her father, who’d arranged for her to touch the sky, had urged her to find, as he put it, a more rational life. She’d been disappointed in him, and it had caused a temporary split between them. In the end, he’d conceded, and he and Mom had thrown an unforgettable party for her. Lou Cunningham, the boyfriend of the moment, had attended, and at the end of the evening, as they stood outside on the lawn of the family house, he’d asked her not to go, but instead to be his wife. She liked Lou, even though the long-term chemistry wasn’t there.

“I love you, Hutch,” he’d said. “Will you marry me?” He’d stared at her, and she’d watched the dismay fill his expression as he read her answer in her eyes. And the frustration. She’d thought how this might be one of those decisions she’d revisit over the years, and eventually come to regret.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Jake. It brought her back to the bridge of the Copperhead. She was in the pilot’s seat. The scopes were picking up only the gray mist that filled the transdimensional space that allowed vehicles to move among the stars.

“Nothing,” she said.

Jake Loomis let her see his disapproval. “All right, Hutch. Six minutes to jump.” He was sliding into the seat beside her.

“Okay.”

“Best keep focused when stuff is happening.”

“I’m focused,” she said.

“Benny’s good.” The AI. “But don’t assume nothing will ever break down. If something goes wrong out here, it tends to happen very quickly.”

“Okay, Jake.”

He waited. Was he expecting her to say more? Then it came to her. The passengers. She touched the allcom pad, trying to look as if she’d been about to do that anyhow. “Professor Eddington,” she said, “Dr. Andrews, Isaika, we’ll be transiting back into normal space in five minutes. If you need to do anything, this would be a good time. Then belt down.”

She glanced over at Jake. He pretended to be looking at the fuel gauge. “Benny,” she said, “start engines.”

Jake was a true believer. She suspected he was one of those guys who’d never walk away from the interstellars. He was a big man, with dark skin and black hair and an easy-come easy-go attitude. His eyes had a kind of whimsical look, implying that he did not take her seriously. Did not really trust her. “Benny can get you through most missions,” he told her, “but if a problem develops you need to be ready.” There was something in the way he stressed the last word that underscored his doubts about her.

Hutch had no reason to question her own capabilities. She had done well through the eight-month program leading up to this final mission, in which she would be expected to function as the captain, while Jake served purely as an observer. The guy who filled out the score sheet.

“Jump in one minute,” said Benny. The panel was showing a red light. One of her passengers had not yet belted in.

“One minute, everybody,” she said. “Larry, get into your harness.” Dr. Larry Andrews preferred being addressed informally.

“Doing it now, Captain,” he said.

They all thought, or pretended to think, she was actually captain of the Copperhead. Jake had been good that way. He’d implied he was just along for the ride. That Hutch was in charge. It had boosted her confidence. She loved being called “Captain Hutchins.” But she understood that her reaction was a clear demonstration of her immaturity. Larry’s lamp turned green.

“Thirty seconds,” she said.

She activated her own harness, and Jake settled back in his seat. He’d been about to remind her. But she hadn’t forgotten. Almost, but not quite. The engines changed tone. “Transit initiated,” said Benny. The gray mist dissipated. The navigation display went dark. And a multitude of stars blinked on. Moments later, the AI broke in: “Hutch, we have a message from the Academy.”

“What is it, Benny?”

He put it onscreen:

Jake, FYI: We just got word that the hold on the Quraqua terraform is going to be rescinded. That means you may be bringing a couple of people back with you. Frank.

Frank Irasco was the director of operations. And Quraqua, of course, was an Earth twin. An ideal colony world. But it had ruins dating back thousands of years. It was dry, and the corporates wanted to make it attractive to settlers. Terraforming would mean a cool pleasant climate, with modular beachfront homes. And sure it would put a lot of the ruins underwater. But what the hell?

Hutch stared at the message. The battle over revamping that world had been going on for years. Archeologists wanted to preserve the ruins. But Quraqua would be a priceless asset as a colony. She sighed. “Welcome to Groombridge, Jake,” she said.

Technically, it was Groombridge 1618. Eight light-years from Earth. An orange-red main sequence flare dwarf. Hutch had done her homework. The star was still young, less than a billion years old, and though it was smaller and less luminous than the Sun, it threw off flares that were far more intense than anything seen at home. And the eruptions were frequent. That was, indirectly, the reason it was of particular interest to biologists. Because it was so much cooler than the Sun, the Goldilocks zone, where liquid water could exist, was much closer to it, running from thirty-eight to seventy million miles. That brought any potential life-bearing world within range of the flares, where no terrestrial-style life was likely to exist. Groombridge II, Hibachi’s World, was right in the center of the zone. It had two moons, a big one and a small one. And, remarkably, it also had tangled jungles and as wide a diversity of animals as existed at home. No deserts or open plains presented themselves. The only land areas that were not overgrown were at the poles. Biologists loved it, and had spent the past five years on the planet trying to figure out how it had happened. “We have most of the answers now,” Larry told her. “We’re at the point where it’s just a matter of filling in the blanks.” He floated behind her, holding onto the back of her chair, watching the planet grow gradually larger on the display.

She swung one of the scopes toward the sun. It looked tranquil. Sedate. “Just how serious are the flares?” she asked.

Larry was tall, thin, self-effacing. He was probably in his early thirties, but his hair had already begun to gray at the temples. He spoke in a relaxed, amiable tone. “Pretty severe,” he said. “Fortunately, you normally get some advance warning before the thing goes off, so that gives everybody time to get under cover. But it limits what you can do.”

Jake pushed back in his seat. “You wouldn’t want to be out walking around in it, I assume.”

“Probably not, Jake. I was glad to see they put the extra armor on the Copperhead. I doubt we’ll need it, but you never know.”

Hutch suppressed a smile. The extra armor lining the ship was for Palomus, a pulsar, where they’d be dropping off supplies in a few weeks. “How long will you be staying?” she asked. She knew Larry had two young kids.

“Probably a year.”

“The vegetation’s not green.”

“Can’t have chlorophyll. Not in this kind of environment.” Had she made the same comment to Eddington, she’d have gotten a detailed explanation, filled with descriptions of protective coatings, energy collection methods, alternative genealogical systems, and who knew what else? Eddington was an oversized guy, big and unwieldy in every sense of the word. He could barely make it through the hatches. He’d been out here before, and he talked constantly about his previous experiences, retelling the same stories.

Isaika Nakamura, the third member of the party, was an engineer. She was middle-aged and bored. She’d come along to inspect, upgrade, or repair—Hutch wasn’t sure which—the systems protecting the shelter. She had no apparent interest in the mission itself, and she let everyone know that she was part of the mission because she’d lost a coin toss.

They had emerged about eight hours out from Hibachi’s World. The passengers slept and read. The ground station was the Erik Acharius Complex, named after the nineteenth-century Swedish botanist. Hutch opened a channel. “Acharius,” she said, “this is Copperhead. We have arrived and will enter orbit around midnight your time. Over.”

A burst of static. Then: “Welcome to Acharius, Copperhead.” The voice sounded energetic. It belonged to a young male. “Looking forward to seeing you. Who am I talking to?”

“Priscilla Hutchins.”

“Nice to meet you, Captain Hutchins. I’m Ollie Evers. It’ll be good to have some company. We don’t get many visitors out here.”

“How long has it been?”

“Since the last supply ship?” She heard him turn the question over to someone else. Then he was back. “Seven months.”

“Well, Ollie,” she said, “the glories of working for the Academy.”

“Absolutely.”

“How’s the weather?” She was referring to flares. The station maintained a satellite in geostationary orbit to monitor Groombridge.

“You’re clear. If we see any problems, we’ll let you know post haste.”

“How reliable are the predictions? You get a reasonable advance warning?”

“Usually. Shouldn’t be a problem. We’ve never lost anybody.”

“Glad to hear it.”

There was a long pause. She was about to ask if he was still there when he came back: “When you get here, Captain, we’ll have a surprise for you.”

Jake was signaling her, pointing back into the cabin. The meaning was clear enough. Invite Eddington and the others to participate in the conversation. “Hold on, Ollie.” She activated the allcom. “Guys, we have Acharius on the circuit. Anybody want to say hello?”

Eddington took over and immediately began asking questions about genealogical strains in local amphibians. Hutch shut off the mike and turned down the sound. Jake folded his arms and sighed. “He does like to talk.”

She nodded.

Jake was quiet for a minute. Then: “What made you decide to do this for a living, Hutch?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“Idle curiosity.”

She considered the question. “My dad’s an astronomer.”

“Oh,” he said. “Jason Hutchins. I should have realized.”

“Yes. He’s pretty well known.”

“He’s the guy who heard the artificial signal.”

“It’s a lot of years ago now.”

“And that’s what got you interested in piloting interstellars?”

“It helped.”

“But nothing ever came of it.”

“That wasn’t the big thing.”

“What was?”

“When I was about six or seven, he took me to the Moon. That was before the signal came in.”

“You must have enjoyed that.”

“I loved it. Never forgot it. I remember standing out there with him on the rim of a crater. ‘How old’s the crater, Daddy?’ ‘Millions of years, kid,’ he said. I don’t think I knew what a million was, but he described a place that never changed. I still remember his saying that time stood still out there. And I could feel it. A place where clocks didn’t run. It was incredible, Jake. When I got home, I kept thinking about it. You know, the other kids, they played ball and sat on swings and never looked above the rooftops. Later, they were all talking about becoming lawyers or getting degrees in business management. Me, I never wanted anything other than what I’m doing right now.”

Jake smiled. “I think you’re going to find it’s not as romantic as it sounds, Hutch.”

“How do you mean?”

He shrugged. “You ride for weeks or maybe months inside a sealed container. You take archeologists to Quraqua, or carry supplies out to Palomus and hope you don’t get radiated in the process. Then you go home and do it again. Don’t misunderstand me. I wouldn’t change a thing. But it isn’t what it looks like in the movies. No space pirates or green aliens or anything like that.”

“You make it sound boring.”

“It can be.”

“Well, I can live with that part of it.”

He was quiet for a minute. Then: “When I get back, I’m going to take a vacation on the Moon. Shaira has been after me to do that for a long time.”

Shaira was his girlfriend. “Might as well. You got free transportation.”

He frowned. Read something in her tone. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“You been there recently?”

“Last year. The place is perfect. We’ll stay at the Liberty. Hang around the pool. Take the tour up to Copernicus and stroll around the rim like you did.” He shook his head. “That’s more sightseeing than I get sitting in here.”

Hutch’s eyes closed momentarily.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Something’s bothering you.”

She took a deep breath while she considered how to say what was on her mind. “They’re ruining the place, Jake.”

“In what way?”

“Well, I’m probably going overboard on this. But, hotels. Pipelines. All kinds of construction projects. Copernicus is more than eight hundred million years old. Recent by lunar standards.”

“What’s your point?”

“You go there now and they have hot dog stands. There’s a lift to take you out over the crater. They have a souvenir shop. Jake, you don’t feel the age of the place any more. It’s like going to Atlantic City, except there’s no ocean. And you don’t weigh as much.”

He looked at her sympathetically. Smiled. “Well,” he said, “everybody to his own.”

“Hutch.” Benny’s voice was subdued. Unusual for him.

“Yes, Benny?”

“We’re getting a picture from the smaller moon.”

“Okay.”

“Take a look, please.”

The planetary image on the navigation screen blinked off and was replaced by a rockscape. Something that looked like a giant flower stood in the middle of the image. Long petals rose in all directions. Hutch increased the magnification. “Jake,” she said.

“I see it.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t know.”

She opened a channel to the ground station. “Ollie, you still there?”

“Affirmative, Captain. What do you need?”

“Have you guys been working on the smaller moon?”

“On Lyla? Negative. I’m sure we haven’t been anywhere near it. Why do you ask?”

She was about to explain, but Jake shook his head and drew his finger across his throat. Break the connection. “Just curious,” she said. “Thanks. Copperhead out.” Then she turned to Jake: “What’s the matter?”

“Let’s get a better look so we know what we have before we start talking about it.”

She went to maximum magnification. It was not a flowering plant. “You know what I think it is?”

He nodded. “A monument.” She squeezed her eyes shut and wanted to scream. But Jake held a hand up, cautioning her. “Relax,” he said.

“I don’t believe it, Jake.” She opened the allcom.

He shook his head and turned it off. “What are you doing, Hutch?”

“I was going to let our passengers know.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“If that really is a monument, and they become aware that it’s down there, who do you think will get the credit for the discovery? Us? Or the Professor?”

Hutch thought about it. She might not have been that anxious to get the score for herself, but she didn’t much like Eddington. “What are you suggesting?”

“We look at it on the way out. Meantime, say nothing. And we make sure it stays off our passengers’ screen.”

It’s difficult to judge the size of a world when you can only look at it through images on a display. The Copperhead’s ports, including the bridge wraparound, were completely covered, sealed against radiation.

Hibachi’s World was named for the biologist who’d predicted life could be found in such a place. It was moderately smaller than Earth, with gravity at 84 percent standard. It had jungles or forests or something, but they were like nothing anyone had seen before. They resembled a vast tangle of hair that was purple in some places, blue in others, and gold in still others. It covered the half-dozen continents and the various islands. In some areas it stood stiff rather like a crew cut. In most places, however, it was simply a colorful limp confusion. These were not pieces of vegetation competing for sunlight. Rather, as Larry had explained to her, they were hiding from the periodic flares and they were also sucking energy from each other and, occasionally, from unwary animals. It was not a place where you wanted to go for a walk in the woods. Much of the water had an overlay of matting, turning substantial areas into sinkholes.

The larger of the two moons was also the closer. It was retreating gradually, but its pace was slowing. In time it would pause and begin to fall back toward the surface.

Eventually it would come down. But that was millions of years away.

The other satellite was Lyla. It was only a few hundred miles across, and it sailed through the night in an erratic orbit that took it out almost a million miles. Normally, the AI would make the orbital approach. “But,” said Jake, “your AI is down, Hutch. You’ll have to do it manually.” Later in the mission, she’d undoubtedly have to exercise control over the Copperhead after her engines blew out, or operating from the auxiliary control room aft when power on the bridge had failed. She’d be required to deal with a series of emergencies, probably including a runaway AI that refused to allow a shutdown. But this was the first stop. Just show that she could handle the Copperhead. Compute the gravity index and get the approach velocity right. Don’t go skipping off into space; don’t bounce around in the atmosphere.

Hutch had done this any number of times in simulation. And she’d brought training vehicles smoothly into Earth orbit. No problem at all. Just pay attention. Here, of course, the gravity was a bit different. And that changed the game slightly. But all she needed to do was follow her instincts. And she knew she’d have had no problem had Jake not been sitting there watching her every move. “It’s okay,” he told her. “You’re doing fine.”

Maybe it would have been better had he said nothing. As it happened, she came in at a slightly higher velocity than the situation called for. A more experienced pilot would have eased back, just touched the braking thrusters, and slipped into orbit. But Hutch overreacted, braking too hard. She heard a couple of surprised cries in the passenger cabin.

“Damn,” she said.

“You’re all right. Just back off a bit.” She was well above the atmosphere. Taking no chances with that. She came off the thrusters altogether, then had to apply them again. Only slightly, and had she spent more time on the bridge she’d have thought nothing of it. But at the moment the maneuver seemed horribly clumsy.

“Orbit established,” said Benny.

She exhaled. “Okay, everybody, you can get out of your restraints now.”

The shuttle was packed with supplies and replacement parts. It was currently about twenty minutes before sunrise at the ground station. She contacted the complex, and heard a woman’s voice this time. “Acharius,” Hutch said, “this is Copperhead. We’re on schedule.”

“We’ll be waiting, Copperhead.”

She and Jake got up and wandered back into the passenger cabin to make sure the passengers were ready to go. Jake glanced at her, and she understood. She would continue to function as captain. “We’ll be leaving in a few minutes,” she said. “The ride down to Acharius will take about three-quarters of an hour. Make sure you have everything you need. This would be a good time to check your compartment.” She smiled. “It was a pleasure to have you along. I hope you enjoyed the flight.”

Larry and Isaika took a last look around. The professor remained placidly in his seat, his restraints still holding him in place. Then, finally, it was time to go.

Hutch led the way down to the launch bay, which also served as the cargo area. Like the ship, the shuttle was heavily armored. The pilot would not be able to see directly outside, and would be dependent on a display screen. “Best,” said Jake, “is to let the AI take us down.”

She had no problem with that.

They stowed the luggage in the cargo bin, and she opened the hatch. Interior lights came on. Everybody climbed in. “Snug,” said Eddington.

Hutch, without lifting her eyes from the gauges, nodded. “The sacrifices we make for science,” she said quietly.

Jake elbowed her gently. No smart remarks.

Eddington didn’t reply.

“We’ve started decompressing the launch bay,” she said. “We’ll be leaving in about three minutes.”

“How can you see to fly this thing?” asked Larry. “It’s like sitting in a box.”

The Acharius Complex was, for the most part, underground, buried beneath a lead shield. The shield, of course, had long since been covered by windblown dirt and vegetation. Four small modular blockhouses were visible. They served primarily as entrances. Two shuttles were on the ground. As they descended, someone came out of one of the blockhouses and waved. Eddington nodded. “That should be Abel.”

There were nineteen people in the complex. Theodore Abel, Hutch knew, was the director. She didn’t know what he looked like, however, and in any case the figure seemed too far away to identify. But she knew Eddington pretty well, even though the flight had been a short one. He’d have expected to be met by the head guy.

She magnified the image, and heard Larry confirm that it was indeed the director.

Pilots generally claim they like a zero-gee environment. It’s common wisdom that anyone who prefers the tug of gravity isn’t meant to operate a superluminal. It makes sense, but Hutch didn’t know whether there was any truth to it. Nevertheless she played it safe, always pretending to feel perfectly at ease floating around in the Copperhead, but the reality was she would rather have walked. Two feet on the ground is good. There’d been reports for years that physicists were close to creating a mechanism that would generate an artificial gravity field. She hoped it would happen during her lifetime.

In any case, it was a relief to stand in the shuttle checking everyone’s oxygen mask, and then, last in line, to climb down onto solid ground.

By then another guy had joined Abel. He was eye-level with Hutch, who was not especially tall. But he had a big smile and she guessed, correctly, he was Ollie. They all shook hands and Abel took them through the airlock. “It’s good to see you,” he said, removing his mask. He was in his later years, graying, with a slight limp. And he made no effort to hide the fact that he was delighted by their arrival. “How long will you be staying?” The question was directed at Jake, who passed it to Hutch.

“We have a series of missions, Dr. Abel,” she said. “We have to pull out today.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Anyhow, my name’s Ted. We’d hoped you’d be able to spend some time with us.” He was tall, younger than his pictures had suggested. He had black hair, dark skin, dark eyes, and the easy manner of a guy who was accustomed to getting his way. “Why don’t you let us serve you some breakfast before we start unloading?”

They left their gear in the blockhouse, descended a staircase, and started down a dimly lit corridor, past closed doors on both sides. “As you can see, Michael,” he said, addressing Eddington, “we’re still living the good life here.”

Eddington reached out and touched the wall. “Yes,” he said. “Enjoy it while you can. Seriously, Ted, you know the Academy is closing the operation down. I don’t think they feel there’s much more to be gained out here.”

“That’s what we heard. But I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

Eddington slowed down. “Why not, Ted?”

Ollie glanced across at Hutch. She got the significance: This was the surprise he’d mentioned.

“Let’s eat first. Then I have something to show you.”

Hutch had pancakes and strawberries. She got introductions to everyone at the Complex, except the half-dozen who were out doing field work. Ollie sat down with her. They got on first-name terms, and she asked if he was a biologist.

He laughed. “I’m just the technical support. Something breaks down, I do the repairs.”

“How do you like the job?”

“Never again,” he said.

“Don’t get out much?”

“That’s part of it.”

“What’s the rest?” The strawberries were good. She wondered how they managed to produce them.

“It’s—” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it’s seeing the same people all the time. I don’t think I realized what I was getting into. I mean, everybody’s nice and all. But you like to see some new faces once in a while.”

“How long have you been here, Ollie?”

“Three and a half years. I signed on for four.”

“Why so long?”

“The pay’s good.”

“Any single women here?”

He didn’t have to think about it. “A couple.”

Okay. Nobody to get excited about. “So what’s the surprise, Ollie?”

He looked down the table toward his boss. “I’d better let Ted break the news.”

When they’d finished, Isaika took Ollie and a few others down to unload the shuttle, while Abel led Hutch, Jake, Eddington, and Larry into a conference room. The lights dimmed, a projector came on, and they were looking out across the vast purple matting that constituted so much of the surface of Hibachi’s World. In the distance, it faded to ocean. “This,” said Abel, “is a section of coastline about a thousand miles west of us. You’ll notice the diminution in the coloring. That was what first drew our attention.”

Hutch saw only a very slight difference in the color.

“You get something like that,” Abel continued, directing his remarks primarily to Eddington, “and you know there’s an abnormality.”

Eddington nodded.

“A disease,” said Larry.

“As a matter of fact, it was a parasite. But that’s not the point. It’s simply the reason we got interested. We sent a team out to look. And they found this—”

The image shifted. The foliage receded and grew swampy. A hilltop emerged. “There’s a bay beneath all this,” Abel said. “And the hilltop you’re looking at is an island. Or would be if the cover were to disappear.”

“So where are we going with this?” asked Eddington.

“Let’s make some of the cover go away.” It vanished, and they confronted a harbor opening into the ocean.

“My God,” said Larry.

A round building, about eight feet in diameter, stood at the highest point on the island. It was an open-air structure, made of stone, its roof supported by five circular columns. Its base was raised a few feet above ground level, with steps providing access on opposite sides.

“You’re saying,” said Eddington, “it’s been there all the time?”

“There’s a city beneath the growth. But it’s limited to the coastline. It’s big, though. Probably supported a population of twenty, thirty thousand.”

“How long ago?” Eddington leaned forward, peering.

“A thousand years or more. We don’t have the capability to make a determination.”

“What else,” asked Larry, “is on the island?”

“Nothing. That’s the only thing we found.” The round building.

Eddington shook his head. “I wouldn’t have believed this world could produce a sentient life form.”

Abel nodded. “Since then we’ve discovered two more cities. One smaller, and one capable of supporting probably a hundred thousand. They’re both on this continent. Nothing anywhere else that we could find.”

“What’s the technology look like?” asked Larry.

“Ancient Rome, probably.”

Eddington just sat there, breathing heavily.

Larry was visibly overwhelmed. “You have any idea what they look like? Are any of them still around?”

“If there are, we haven’t seen any. And so far we don’t know much about them. We’re pretty sure they were taller than we are. But we haven’t really had a chance to do any serious investigation.”

Eddington cleared his throat. “Does the Academy know?”

“We haven’t notified them yet, no.”

“Probably just as well. You’ll want to have a few more answers before you say anything. As soon as they learn about this, they’ll send some specialists out. In the end, they’ll take the mission from us, and we’ll be closed down.”

Larry was peering at the building. “What is it, Ted? You have any idea?”

“We think there was a table in it at one time. We found what was left of it.” He shrugged. “Maybe it was a bait shop.”

“It was probably an altar,” said Hutch. Her tone drew a few glances.

Abel frowned at her. “I was kidding,” he said.

“What sort of condition are they in?” asked Eddington. “The cities?”

“They’re wrecked. The vegetation was thinner out on the water. Along the coast line, everything got strangled.”

“Okay.” Eddington took a deep breath. “I want to go take a look. As soon as you can arrange it.” He was giving orders.

Abel frowned again, but let it go. “If you’re interested, Michael,” he said, “we can go out there now.”

“What do you mean?”

He got up. “Come with me.” They followed him out of the conference room and down another long corridor until they arrived at a set of double doors. He pressed a pad, the doors opened, and lights came on. It was a storage area. The walls were lined with shelves. Spare parts were stacked around the room. And some building materials. And—

—In a corner, pieces of stone. Hutch recognized them immediately, slices of the columns, the rounded roof cut in half, pieces of the steps—

It was the island building. “Eventually, we’ll take it home,” said Abel. “We’ll reassemble it and put it on the front lawn of the Tolliver Building.” At the Academy.

“My thought exactly,” said Eddington.

Forty-three hours after departing the Complex, Jake and Hutch rode the Copperhead’s shuttle down to Lyla’s surface. The Flower was unquestionably one of the Great Monuments. It had been erected in the middle of a flat rocky plain. Protected from the void by their pressure suits, they stood in front of it, and looked up. It towered over them, its long golden-red petals soaring into the night. The design was similar to the others in the series, the style, the general sense of ethereal beauty defying a boundless, uncaring universe. It was not, however, a depiction of a flowering plant, as Hutch had thought at first, but rather of solar flares, a tribute to the local sun. The flares, eight of them, lifted out of an engraved base and rose toward the unforgiving sky. They were of different sizes and textures. One was broken. Hutch looked up at it. No. Not broken. Unfinished.

Neither Groombridge nor Hibachi’s World was in the sky. The monument was on the back side of Lyla, so the planet was never visible, since the satellite was in tidal lock. But the stars were bright, and the monument caught and reflected the illumination.

“It’s magnificent, Jake.” She’d never actually been in the presence of one before.

The base was engraved with two lines of symbols unlike anything she’d seen. Theory held that the reason the engraved symbols never matched each other was because they came from different eras, the most recent ending at about 19,000 B.C.E. “I would like to have met them,” she said. “The builders.”

“You’re a bit late.”

“I have that impression, Jake.”

“And you can’t be sure they’d be friendly.”

“Jake, there’s no way I could be afraid of whoever put this here.”

Benny broke in: “There’s something else. Off to the left of the monument. Your left.”

There was a stone marker. Oval-shaped. Engraved with the same type of characters that were on the base of the monument. Two lines. Jake looked at the engraving, then walked back and looked at the base of the monument. “Different messages,” he said.

Hutch opened her channel to the AI. “Benny, scan the ground. Where we’re standing.”

“Scanning.”

Jake looked puzzled. “You think something’s buried here?”

“Someone.”

“Jake,” said Benny. “There’s a box. With something inside. A skeleton. But it is not human. And I would guess from its condition that it has been here a long time.”

They climbed back into the shuttle and the AI forwarded the images. Details were difficult to make out. It was a biped. Hutch counted six digits on each limb. And she saw a cluster of thin bones underneath that didn’t seem to fit. Wings, maybe? If so, it might be a match for the creature depicted on the Iapetus monument.

“I wonder what happened?” said Jake.

“Best guess?” she said.

“Go ahead.”

“This one died while they were working. While they were putting the thing together. Maybe they got caught off guard by a flare. Maybe it simply fell off a ladder. There’s no way to know. And it doesn’t matter. But they decided to pay tribute to it.”

“By burying it here?”

“That, too.”

“What else?”

“They left the monument incomplete. Maybe for them it constituted the ultimate recognition.”

“Okay,” he said. “I guess that makes sense.” Big smile. “Hutch, I can’t imagine a better way for you to launch your career. Find one of these? They’ll put our pictures on the Wall of Fame.”

“I’ll settle for my license,” she said. “Benny, we have lots of pictures of this?”

“Yes, Captain. I have a substantial record.”

“I suggest,” said Jake, “we call it in now. Let them know what we have. Before somebody else stumbles across it.” He looked at Hutch. “What’s wrong?”

“I think we should direct Benny to destroy the record.”

“What? Why the hell would we do that?”

She hesitated. She was thinking how nice it would be to go back to a hero’s welcome. To become famous.

“Hutch?”

“I think we should forget what we saw here. Just go away and leave it.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“After we call it in, they’re going to come out here and dig everything up. They’ll take the creature back to a lab and dissect it.”

“Of course they will. Hutch, this is one of the Monument Makers.”

“They’ll desecrate the place.”

“I didn’t know you were religious.”

“Religion has nothing to do with it. What do you think the builders would have thought about us ripping up the grave?”

“They’re long gone, Hutch.”

“No,” she said. “They’re still here.”

“I’m not sure I know what we’re talking about, Priscilla.”

“I’m tired of it all,” she said. “This time, Jake, we have some control over what’s happening.” She turned frustrated eyes on her captain. “I’m tired of hot dog stands on the Moon and beachfront homes on Quraqua and wrecked altars back at the Complex.” She looked up at the sky but of course saw no sign of Hibachi’s World. “If you’ll consent, I’d like to let it go. Forget the monument. And hope that Eddington and Ted Abel and people like them don’t notice what’s here. Maybe by the time somebody else comes across this, we’ll be a little smarter.”

Jake let his disappointment show. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Jake.” She saw the uncertainty in his eyes. “Please.”

He touched the marker. Pressed his fingertips against the engraved symbols. “I wonder what it says?”