going?”
“Marcos.” Sandy's voice. “Something strange is happening.”
“What?” Marcos frowned and tried to enhance the image.
“I can see through it.”
“Say again, Sandy.”
“I can see through it. The damned thing's fading. It's disappearing.”
It was true. The hull had become transparent.
“Not possible,” said Marcos. The calm authority was gone from his voice. It had been replaced by a note of uncertainty.
The intruder's navigation lights dimmed. We saw more stars. And then it was as if it had never been there.
“Ops,” said Sandy. “Did you see that?”
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
“Marcos.” Sandy's voice. “Something strange is happening.”
“What?” Marcos frowned and tried to enhance the image.
“I can see through it.”
“Say again, Sandy.”
“I can see through it. The damned thing's fading. It's disappearing.”
It was true. The hull had become transparent.
“Not possible,” said Marcos. The calm authority was gone from his voice. It had been replaced by a note of uncertainty.
The intruder's navigation lights dimmed. We saw more stars. And then it was as if it had never been there.
“Ops,” said Sandy. “Did you see that?”
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
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