Firebird (11 page)

I'd watched a good many ships make their jumps, on-screen and riding beside them. When they did, they vanished. Blinked off. One moment they were there, and the next they were gone. This wasn't like that at all.

“Spooky,”
Tereza said, keeping her voice low.
“What the hell was it?”

I called Alex. He was in his quarters, sitting in an armchair, framed by a window. It was still darker in Andiquar. A notebook lay open on his lap.
“How's it going, Chase?”
he asked.
“You figure out what happened to him?”

“No. I don't have a clue. I do have one interesting piece of information, though.”

“What's that?”

“Robin bought several yachts, according to the local priest. I checked the archives. It's true. He bought four over an eight-year period.”

“Four yachts? What was he doing with them?”

“Apparently, he was using them in an experiment. I did some research and found something on it. Not much. And it's really not clear. Something about cycling.''

“What's that?”

“It's connected with providing reserves for an electronic boost when you make a jump.”

Alex's brow crinkled.
“Make sense to you?”

“I know it happens. Beyond that—”

“I take it the yachts were not new?”

“No. They were all pretty old. Which, by the way, isn't consistent with cycling experiments, so I don't know what was actually going on.”

“Okay.”
He lifted a glass of something from a side table and drained it.
“When did all this happen?”

“Between 1385 and 1393.”

“Did you get the names of the yachts?”

“One of them was the
Starhawk.”

“All right.”

“Another was the
Firehawk.”

“The
Firehawk?
This guy had a thing with hawks?”

“Sorry. The Fire
bird.”

“And the others?”

“Striker
and
Elizabeth.”

“How long did they usually have these yachts before they lost them?”

“I don't know, Alex. I couldn't find any detailed information. Why are we so interested?”

“I'm not sure. I don't know. But the yachts went away. Then Robin went away.”

“All right. Ramsay will be calling in a little bit. If you have no problem with it, I'm going to tell him about them. About the yachts.”

“Yes. By all means. It sounds mysterious, and that's exactly what we're looking for. When you tell him, sound surprised, okay?”
Lightning lit up the window, but I couldn't be sure whether it was his or mine. Until the thunder rumbled overhead.
“Chase,”
he said,
“you're a genius.”

“How's everything going at your end?”

“We're still rolling. The artifacts may have peaked. But maybe not. I've arranged some informal presentations for Plunkett.”

“Plunkett?” I knew the name from somewhere.

“Charlie Plunkett. The guy from the Robin Society. Brane theory.”

“Oh. As in colliding universes?”

“Yes.”

Libraries, museums, and other social groups were always looking for guest speakers. “Alex,” I said, “the guy might be a bit far out.”

“It doesn't matter. He's good behind a lectern. And nothing he can say will hurt the artifacts. That's all that matters.”
He was about to sign off, but apparently remembered something.
“Hang on a second, Chase.”
He took another sip of his drink. Then:
“One other thing—”

“Yes?”

“These sightings have been going on for a long time. I don't just mean lights in the sky, but close-ups of ships that don't seem to belong. And there've been strange voices. The sightings are infrequent, maybe two or three times a century, but they keep happening.”

“How far back?”

“Into ancient history.”

“Okay.” I waited, thinking more was coming.

But he subsided. Then:
“We're onto something very big, Chase.”

“Ships from another reality?”

“Maybe.”

“Now,
that
would really be a jolt. Oh, one other thing I forgot to mention. It's probably of no significance. Robin was out somewhere in the
Breakwater
two or three weeks before that last flight.”

“Do you know where?”

“No. My source didn't know. Also, you wanted to know how long he'd been away on that last flight. It was three days, possibly four.”

NINE

It is an unfortunate aspect of human nature that we appreciate what matters only when we don't have it anymore. What would any of us not give to be able to return, if only for an hour, to those high-school years and see again those who at that time were only the kids we hung out with, who have since gone away, and whom we now recognize as irreplaceable parts of ourselves.

—Kirby Edward,
Traveling in Time
, 1407

Cermak Transport became Reliable, Inc., which had an office in the center of Kolandra, manned by Mitsui Shimazaki. Shimazaki had been Eliot Cermak's partner, and was now semiretired. When I stopped by the office, he was arranging flight information for a young couple planning a honeymoon on another world. They weren't sure where they wanted to go. “Somewhere exciting,” the bride-to-be said, while the AI ran visuals of towering mountains and majestic cities. Both were excited and, if I read them correctly, neither had ever been off-world before.

Shimazaki asked whether he could help me, and I told him to take his time with his clients. I was in no hurry. So he did, and eventually they settled on a sightseeing tour of the solar system. “Our twelve-day special,” he said. “We'll have two other newly married couples with you, if that's okay.”

“By all means,” the bride said.

“As long as we have a little privacy,” added the groom, with a smirk.

And I thought,
There's a marriage that will never see renewal.

When they'd finished, Shimazaki came back, apologized, and asked what I needed.

“My name's Chase Kolpath,” I said. “I'm doing some research on Eliot Cermak. I wonder if you could answer a few questions?”

“Of course. I was always sorry about Eliot. Gone too soon.”

“Did you by any chance get to see him the night of the earthquake?”

“No,” he said. “That night was pure hell. I'll tell you the truth, when that first shock hit, I got my wife and kids into our skimmer, and we cleared out. I've always felt guilty that I wasn't here to help, but—”

“I understand, Mr. Shimazaki. You couldn't be everywhere.” He nodded. Smiled. And his eyes momentarily lost their focus. “Did you know Chris Robin?”

“Oh, yes. One of Eliot's clients. I knew him. He was a good man. He died that night, too.” He shook his head. “You wonder how, in this day and age, something like that can happen.”

“You liked him.”

“Very much. He was smart. Honest. Not like some of the other VIPs we get involved with. Didn't have the ego that you see in a lot of these people.”

“Did you socialize with him at all?”

“A couple of times.”

“He and Eliot had been off-world that night.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Do you have any idea where they'd been? Before coming home?”

“None. If I ever knew, I've forgotten.”

“Do you know how long they were gone?”

“Not really.” He rubbed his fingertips against his cheeks. “I think they were only out a couple of days. But I'm not sure of that.”

“I understand.”

“It's been a long time, Chase. Is it okay if I call you that?”

“Of course.” I hesitated, then charged ahead. “Did you know his wife?”

“I met her a couple of times. I couldn't say I knew her.”

“Mr. Shimazaki, would Elizabeth have had any reason to want to get rid of him? Anything you're aware of?”

His expression told me that if she did, I'd never hear it from him. “No,” he said. “If there was any trouble between them, I didn't know about it. Why do you ask?”

“I'm just trying to understand what might have happened that night.”

He nodded. “We'd all like to know.”

“Did Robin have any enemies?”

“Not that I know of. Again, I just didn't know him that well. I understand there were people who didn't like him all that much. He had a reputation for not being very sociable, though I never saw any sign of it. He was always okay around me. Eliot told me once that he tended not to trust people. He might have had a rough time growing up. Who knows?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, he'd have been so much smarter than the other kids, and he probably didn't mind showing it. Which would have made him pretty unpopular.”

“You can't think of anyone who might have wanted him out of the way?”

“There were rumors that he was working on a new version of the star drive that would provide an extra kick, something capable of intergalactic flight. Something like that might create a problem with the corporate heavyweights. But I never heard anything about that from a credible source.”

I was looking out at a gray sky. The sun was trying to break through but I didn't think it was going to happen. “Mr. Shimazaki—”

“Mitsui, Chase.”

“Mitsui. The name has a rhythm.”

“Thank you, Chase. I suspect its owner does not, however.”

“Mitsui, I understand Robin lost some yachts—”

His AI showed an incoming call. From someone who wanted to sell him something. “Have them call back,” he said. His face scrunched up while he thought about the yachts. “That's correct. Some junkers. Four of them, I believe.”

“How'd it happen? That they lost all of them?”

“They were doing some sort of experiment. I don't know the details. Eliot didn't talk about things like that, and I really wasn't very interested. I
do
know they didn't expect to bring them back. They didn't even have AIs, I believe. At least some of them didn't.”

“Thank you, Mitsui,” I said. “You've been very helpful.”

“I'm glad, Chase. And the next time you would like to go somewhere exotic, I hope you'll think of us.”

“I will—”

“You're a pilot, too, aren't you?”

That surprised me. “Yes,” I said. “How did you know?”

“I'm not sure. You sound as if you know what you're talking about.”

“Thank you.”

“I miss it,” he said. “The cockpit. And the women. You and your sisters are a special brand.”

A thunderstorm swept in off the ocean that night, blurring the village lights and bringing high winds and lots of rain. I spent the evening going through the list of names associated with Robin, looking for anybody who might be able to shed light on what had happened to him. I made some calls but came away with nothing.

I ran a search on Eliot Cermak. He'd been a self-employed interstellar pilot. CEO of Cermak Transport. Born in Templeton, on the Dimrok Plains, in 1326. Joined the fleet in 1348. He picked up a pilot's license in 1351. And rose through the ranks to command a destroyer. Retired, 1373.

He launched Cermak Transport the same year, purchasing a yacht he christened
Breakwater.
(That would have been the vehicle that he and Robin were riding when they engaged in the Skydeck pursuit.)

He prospered as an independent, hiring out to those with unusual destinations that the big carriers didn't serve. That meant he frequently carried research teams, and occasionally wealthy patrons who simply didn't like to travel with the general public.

He formed several special relationships with CEOs and scientists, Robin among them. He was the pilot, in 1383, when William Winter was lost on the mission to Indikar. I looked up Winter. He'd specialized in ancient history, especially the Great Expansion, the period during which the first colonial worlds were beginning to take hold. According to the report, he and Robin were investigating the ruins of the Indikar outpost, which had been abandoned a thousand years ago.

Cermak had red hair, and the vids revealed an easygoing confidence. The guy looked like a natural leader, and I'll admit that he impressed me. It wasn't hard to see the destroyer captain.

I called Ramsay that night. (It was midafternoon back in Andiquar.) When I told him that Robin had lost four yachts, and that the yachts had been purchased apparently for the specific purpose of being taken out and abandoned, he literally gasped.
“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why, Chase? Why would he do that?”

“I don't know.”

“But you have a theory?”

“Yes. They had to be part of an experiment.”

“What kind of experiment?”

“Probably something connected with his ideas about alternate universes.” I had a hard time delivering that line, but he was delighted with it.

“Can you spell it out a little bit?”

“Okay, look: I'm guessing. And I don't want to be quoted.”

“That's fine. Consider yourself a reliable source.”

“Not in
this
life, kid. But I think, and again I've nothing to back this up, I think he wanted to send the yachts into one of these alternate universes he was always talking about. And either he succeeded—”

“Or they were blowing up.”
He shook his head. Wrote something on a pad.
“You really think that's what he was trying to do?”

Hmm. What
did
I really think? The truth was, I couldn't imagine what else he might have been up to. “I wish,” I told him, “that we could go out wherever it was he'd taken them. And see whether they're still there.”

“I assume there's no way to do that?”

“None that I can imagine, Jack.”

I went back and looked at the news accounts from the quake. It was Rimway's worst natural disaster, in terms of fatalities, in modern history, and the second worst anywhere in the Confederacy.

Tens of thousands died, in an era when that wasn't supposed to happen. But somehow the pending quake, which would be an 8.0, escaped the notice of the monitors and came without warning. The inhabitants knew they were in a danger zone, but even though the temblors shook the area regularly, everyone had been assured that the technology would detect a major event well in advance. There'd be plenty of time to clear out.