Firebird (46 page)

“So you're saying what—?”

“It looks as if the
Capella
will surface in four years. And, Alex, we are going to be there when it does.”

The world is changing its perspective on AIs. I'm not suggesting that Alex and I were responsible for any of it; nevertheless, the term
Beta
has come into common usage. Some say that's simply because it's easier to say than
AI.
But Betas are now able to own property in a number of municipalities around the globe. Other Confederate worlds, unhappy with what is happening here, have charged Rimway with being weak and foolishly sentimental.

Charlie has a condo in the mountains northwest of Andiquar, and we've been up there occasionally for parties. He likes parties. The issue is also becoming a movement on Dellaconda. And somebody there has introduced a bill that will give Betas the vote.

Researchers are arguing over
how
an AI can acquire consciousness, while others debate when it might have happened. Some maintain that they've had consciousness since ancient times. Since the literary world discovered that the great twenty-third-century novelist, Max Albright, was a pseudonym for a Beta.

Recently, Christian and Judaic groups have both taken the position that even though no one knows for sure whether Betas have souls, it would be prudent to assume they do. Islam, which is usually out front on liberal issues, is still making up its mind.

Makes me wonder what the world will look like in another thousand years.

EPILOGUE

“Dot, get out of there. It's starting.”

She saw it. The cable becoming transparent, losing substance, coming back, flickering like a light with failing power. The radio filled with frantic voices. Get away from it. Look out. Dot, don't— She grabbed hold of Rowena. Pulled on her arm. “Let go,” Dot said. She knew that Rowena couldn't hear her. There hadn't been time to show the women how to use the radio. But it didn't stop her from trying. “For God's sake, let go.”

Rowena hung on, refusing to release her grip even when there seemed to be nothing to hold on to, even when her arm had gone away.

Then they were back, the cable and the arm, Rowena still holding tight, and the frantic voices.

“What's happening?”

“My God, I knew we shouldn't have done this.”

“What's wrong with the cable?”

Dot's stomach turned over, and she felt momentarily nauseous.

Where was the
McCandless
? She looked desperately in all directions. The
Intrépide
was still there, but the
McCandless
was gone. “Melissa,” she said. “Answer up, please.”

The voices went away.

The
Intrépide's
navigation lights were growing brighter. As was the glow from the cabin.

“Melissa, are you there?”

No response. Everything beyond the
Intrépide
was growing dark. The stars were becoming dim. Fading. The Veiled Lady shrank to a wispy glow before it, too, slipped into the all-encompassing night.

“Chase? Please? Melissa?”

She expected no reply. And got none. Only the lights on the ship remained—

Lisa had come up behind her. She took hold of Dot's arm. Tried to say something. Dot watched her bite down on her lips. The cable had been severed. The end that had been attached to the
McCandless
was gone. “It's okay,” she said, hoping everything would come back. “We're okay.”

The
Intrépide
looked as solid as ever. “Chase, are you there? Melissa? Somebody?” She gazed unbelieving at the empty sky. The heavens, seen from off-world, are not like what you see from a beach. An atmosphere does not obscure them. The stars are always bright. Now it was as if she were in a dark room, a room that stretched endlessly in all directions.

“Is
anybody
there?”

She let go of Rowena. Turned to Lisa and would have embraced her had she been able, had the suit allowed it. “We weren't quick enough,” she said. It was irrelevant that nobody could hear her. “Might as well go back inside.”

Lisa kept asking questions. Dot understood. Was the rescue off? What had happened? Her eyes looked out of the helmet, needing an answer.

Dot pointed back toward the airlock. God help me, yes. It's over.

Inside the
Intrépide,
there was movement. Frightened faces looked out through the ports.

She didn't want to go back, didn't want to join the people she'd tried to help, people she wouldn't even be able to communicate with, to tell them what was happening. And, of course, she was stuck now. She'd ride this
thing
, this ghost out of a distant past, in its trek toward a highly uncertain future.

Sixty-seven years, Shara had said.

Good-bye, Melissa. Mom and Dad. Harry.

Harry was her husband. Melissa's father. A management consultant currently on assignment at one of the outlying stations. She'd forgotten which one. He'd have a shock coming when he heard—

Damn it. Why hadn't she listened to Alex?

Well, this was not the time to start feeling sorry for herself. She could do that later.

What would her life be without Melissa? She and her daughter had always been close. Melissa was ambitious but not to the extent that she was willing to work hard to achieve her goals. She had talked about becoming a pilot, but Dot did not believe it would ever actually happen. That was one of the reasons she'd brought her along on this mission, to try to light a fire under her.

Melissa wanted to
be
things, especially, she said, to be a pilot. But she wasn't prepared to put in the effort. We only have one life, she was fond of saying, so why should we spend it working when we have a leisure option? She'd gotten a degree in medicine, but it hadn't really challenged her, and she had made her intentions clear enough: Just relax, hang out, party, meet guys, go swimming—she loved to swim, and she was as proficient in the water as anyone Dot had ever seen—and go for walks in the woods. That was the kind of life she'd wanted. Dot's family had always believed there was something innately virtuous in work. But Melissa saw nothing wrong with a prolonged good time. “I wouldn't want to find, when it came time to die, that I had not lived.” It was the adage she lived by.

And Dot wasn't entirely convinced she was wrong.

Chase, too. Dot wasn't that close to Chase Kolpath, but she qualified as a friend. You could trust her, and the attention Chase had gotten as a result of working with Benedict hadn't changed her. Most people who had gotten into the media spotlight the way she had over the past few years would be full of themselves. But the woman just laughed it off. When Dot had commented on her accomplishments, she'd become visibly uncomfortable. “I've been fortunate,” she'd said. “Always been at the right place at the right time.”

Odd that Harry and Melissa occupied her thoughts at a moment like this. And Chase. And Phil Cato, an old boyfriend. And—

The
Intrépide
became the only reality, the only lights in the world. And the three women who were with her at that moment. They'd all grown quiet. Lisa, Michelle, and Rowena. They were probably wondering whether they'd
ever
get off that ship. Whether they'd ever see their homes again.

They almost certainly didn't know what had happened to them. No way they could know unless their captain had seen that the stars were out of place. Given thousands of years, that would have happened. She wondered whether he understood, and if so, whether he'd said anything.

She led the way back to the airlock. The hatch had closed when they'd exited. She opened it again and waited while the three women climbed inside. She hesitated about following them. To do that somehow sealed everything. As long as she remained outside, there was a chance that the
Belle-Marie
would come out of the night, pick her up. Take her home.

She thought about the two girls. Sabol and Cori. She had hoped to include their father in the second group she'd have taken across. He'd spoken to her with a calm intensity. She knew what he'd been saying:
Please take them somewhere safe. Get them away from here.
Well, at least she'd managed that. Something about him suggested he might be a physician. Maybe it was the way he'd looked into her eyes, as if searching for an abnormality. Maybe it was his soothing, deliberate voice, which—even though she couldn't understand a word he said—had assured her that if she just took the girls, everything would be okay. Pretty gutsy, considering he knew so little about what was happening. But she'd never forget, hov/ever long she lived, his expression when she looked back as she took the kids into the airlock. He'd started fighting back tears, and he was scared to let them go, but he knew they needed to get off the ship, even if they were being taken by a stranger who spoke an unknown language.

So she would have tried to get him off with the second group. Though she sensed he would not leave until the women were clear.

Suddenly the lights came back on.

The stars reappeared, hazy at first. They brightened and became sharp dazzling points of light scattered through the darkness. My God. She was getting a miracle. Still hanging on to the hatch, she turned and looked behind her, searching the night for the
McCandless.

She saw the Veiled Lady, which had been behind it. But no ship.

“Melissa, where are you?”

Save for the stars, the sky was empty.

“Chase?”

Keep calm. She checked the time. It had been only nine minutes since they had all gone down the transdimensional drain. Something other than the stars was putting out a lot of light. But the glow was coming from the other side of the
Intrépide.
She let go of the hatch and rose above the hull. A long, sleek, brightly illuminated vehicle was approaching. It wore the silver and azure colors of the Confederacy. The Fleet was here. Thank God.

She screamed with delight, and waved at the ship.

One set of navigation lights blinked on and off. We see you.

She went back to the airlock, and they all must have understood, because they waved their arms, and Rowena burst into tears.

The visitor became visible. It had angled around and was approaching from the rear. Michelle grabbed hold of the cable and launched herself into a kind of improvised floating dance.

Lisa jumped up, hit her helmet against the overhead, and bounced. But she was still laughing, and her lips carried the message:
“Magnifique!”

You said it, baby.

“Melissa,” Dot said, “we've got help. Where are you?”

The visitor was lit up like a summer carnival. It came alongside and took up a position where, a few minutes ago, the
McCandless
had been stationed. She could almost have reached out and touched it.

“Melissa, answer up, please. Are you there?”

Then, finally, a voice:
“Relax, Ms. Garber. You
are
Dot Garber, right?”

“Yes, it's me.” Oh, Lord, is it ever. She could barely restrain a scream. “Where's the
McCandless?”

“Janet,”
said the voice.
“We've got her.”

She heard applause.

More lights went on, around the main hatch.

“Everything's under control,
M5.
Garber. Just give us a couple of minutes. We'd like you and the other people to clear the airlock. You can go back inside, if you like. But just clear the area, please.”

The hatch opened, and a transparent tube extended out into the vacuum.

Dot signaled for everyone to grab hold of the cable. Then they stepped out into the void.

The tube crossed the space between the ships and fastened onto the
Intrépide's
open airlock.

Several people, four, it looked like, in dark blue uniforms filed into the tube and started across. A couple of them looked toward the drifting women and waved. A minute later, they'd disappeared into the
Intrépide.

“Hello,” Dot said. “This is Garber. Who are you guys?”

“
Ms. Garber, this is CVY1411. Do you need assistance?”

“Only to get out of here.”

“How's your air supply?”

“We're in good shape. There are four of us.”

“Okay. We see you. There's a cargo hatch off to your left. It's opening now. Or it will be in just a minute. Can you get in on your own? Or do you require assistance?”

She looked at the three women. They were still celebrating. “Negative,” she said. “We can manage.”

“Very good. Come in through cargo. There'll be a blinking light. They'll be expecting you. And yell if you need anything.”

“Fourteen-eleven, I hate to ask this—”

“Go ahead,
Ms. Garber. What's your problem?”

“What's the date?”

“Rimway calendar?”

“Yes.”

“It's 1501.”

She froze. Sixty-seven years. Somewhere, deep inside, she'd known that was what they would say, but she still couldn't accept it. Not really. She'd just come out here a few minutes ago.

There was more movement in the tube. More uniformed rescuers crossing into the
Intrépide.
Then a surge of people coming back. Filing into the Fleet vessel. Her vision blurred while she watched, and it had gotten hard to breathe. She told herself to calm down. She was okay. That was the critical part. Everybody was going to survive. If it was really true that almost seventy years had passed since she'd come out here, she'd deal with it.

Her head was spinning. Dot had always prided herself on being tough. On being able to make the hard decisions, and to live with the results. But this was too much.

A wave of darkness closed in.

She woke in the arms of a guy in a pressure suit. He was telling her to relax, nothing to worry about, he'd take care of everything. They were still outside, moving along the hull, past large black numbers, a four and a couple of ones. “Thanks,” she said. “I'm sorry I gave you so much trouble.”

“No trouble, Ms. Garber. Glad to help.”

“Where are—?”

“They're fine. Everybody's okay.”

Her rescuer identified himself as Emil Crider. He wore standard Fleet issue: Assuming rank insignia hadn't changed, he was a young lieutenant, solid, efficient, reassuring. Emil warned her about the gravity, and brought her in through the cargo doors. Lisa and Michelle were already there. They looked a bit lost. Several of the rescuers were with them. Rowena was led in moments later. She waved. And provoked another round of cheers.