Engines Of God

"My job is largely political." She peered into Hutch's eyes. "What happened to your ship? To the Wink?"

"We jumped in at the wrong place." She glanced at Carson. Do we want to tell her any more?

"How do you mean?"

Carson encouraged her. "There's an object out there that registers no mass," she said. "We showed up in front of it."

Truscott nodded. "That would be one of the telescopes."

"One?" asked Maggie.

"Oh, yes. There are eight in all, we believe, although we've only located five so far. It's an array." If she had said she'd encountered a flight of wild turkeys, Hutch could not have been more surprised. It had never occurred to her that the monster was anything other than unique.

"Where are the others?" asked Hutch.

The light shadowed and softened Truscott's features. She must have been breathtaking when young. "All in the same orbit." A steward entered with a tray heaped with sandwiches, wine, and fruit drinks. "A remarkable engineering project. Certainly well beyond our capabilities. Wouldn't you agree, Frank?"

"Yes," said Carson. "Have you seen one up close?"

"No. You were our first priority."

"Thank you for that. They must be very thin." Carson let his curiosity show. "I wonder how they hold together?"

She regarded him with interest. "Tell me, Frank, how did you know something like this was here?"

"An accident," he said. "We're on a routine survey."

Truscott's eves glazed. Of course. "If vou like. Do vou want to see the object you hit?"

"Yes, we would. Very much."

"I'll give the word to the captain. The Perth was about to leave for home when we heard your distress call. We came this way with every intention of continuing that journey after we ensured your safety. But the damage you've sustained can't be repaired out here." She swung her attention to Hutch. "Do you concur?"

"Yes," said Hutch.

Truscott smiled at her, as if they shared a secret. "When is the Academy vessel due?"

"About three days."

"You understand we ca

And leave the Monument-Makers to others? Damn real.

"We need to talk," said Carson.

"I'll be happy to listen."

"Frank—" Hutch used a warning tone. If there were discoveries of a technical nature to be made at Beta Pac, they did not want to allow Kosmik any claim to them.

Carson's hesitation was evident. The room fell silent for several beats. Then he said "We have reason to believe there are ruins in this system. We would like very much to be put down near them." Hutch smiled to herself. He was making it up as he went along.

"What is the nature of the ruins?"

"We don't really know yet, Melanie. Relatively primitive."

"Of course."

"Can you take time to do that?" asked Carson. "Give us a pod and some supplies, and we'll wait for the Ashley Tee on our own."

She shook her head. "I won't risk your lives." She seemed to be watching Hutch closely, gauging her reaction.

Carson sat back in his chair and tried not to look uneasy. "Let me reassure you that we would not be at risk. The Ashley Tee will be here within a few days. At most. You could land us and be gone within twenty-four hours. And we'd be fine."

Truscott's tone softened. "Travel delays are expensive. I don't see how we could manage an extra dav. In any case, mv passengers are anxious to get home." She tented her fingers, and appeared to dismiss the idea. "I am neither inclined, nor at liberty, to leave you."

Hutch decided to try her luck. "Dr. Truscott," she said. "This might be a major find. You have a chance to make a contribution."

She looked curiously at Hutch. "Would I, really?"

"Like the old days. You haven't given all that up, have you?"

Truscott registered surprise, and her eyes stayed on Hutch for a long moment. "No, young lady, I haven't." She got up, went to the door, and opened it. "Let's see what the telescope looks like. Then maybe we can talk some more." She rose. "We'll see. Please help yourselves to the food." And she left the way she had come.

Hutch climbed out of her clothes, showered, and collapsed on the bed without bothering to dress. Gravity felt good. She was asleep within minutes.

She was still asleep several hours later when someone knocked.

"Just a minute," she said. Her robe was still packed in her luggage. She grabbed a pair of slacks, pulled on a blouse, and opened the door. Melanie Truscott stood in the passageway.

"Hello," said Hutch.

"Hello, Ms. Hutchins." Truscott's voice was level. "I hope you're comfortable."

"Yes, thank you." Hutch made way. "Won't you come in?" She used the remote to clear the bed out of the room, and turned on a table lamp. The apartment still looked moderately untidy, but the director didn't seem to notice.

She smiled, and found a seat. "I've been talking with Dr. Carson. You had a close call."

"Yes," she said. "We were lucky to come out of it."

Truscott's hair was swept back, her brows neatly arrowed. She spoke, and moved, with graceful economy. "You were lucky. There's no question about that. But you did pretty well," she said.

Hutch thought she'd performed poorly. Moving into the shuttle, and transferring the snow, had both been good ideas. But she'd been slow coming up with them. "Thanks," she said.

Truscott shrugged. "I'd fly with you any time." She looked quite placid, a neighbor who had strolled in for a friendly visit. "I came by because I thought you and I should talk."

"Really? Why?"

"Clear the air." Her tone changed. "You sent over the foamball."

It wasn't a question. And the directness of the statement took Hutch unaware. "Foamball?" She met the older woman's eyes. Oddly, she saw no rancor in them. She would not ordinarily have hesitated to own up, take this woman on. But there was the question of Academy liability. Furthermore, Truscott seemed likable, and her ma

The smile came again. "Obvious. No one else had the opportunity. And I'm a decent judge of character."

Hutch shrugged. "You deserved it. You were playing hardball."

"I know." She looked pleased. "I assume you'll be happy to know that no permanent damage was done. You gave me some bad moments. Made me look silly. But after a while, my people noticed that I stayed. That I got as many off as I could. I think they compared me to some of the other management types they've known. I gather I came away looking pretty good. Anyway, I wanted to say hello to you properly, and let you know there are no hard feelings."

Hutch thought of Richard clinging to the end of his lifeline while the wave took him. "Easy for you to forgive," she said.

Truscott nodded. "I know. And I'm sorry. But you knew it was coming. Why the hell didn't you get him out?"

"Don't you think I would if I could have?"

Hutch stared angrily at the older woman, and Truscott said quietly, "There's some brandy in the cabinet beside the monitor. Will you have a drink with me?"

Hutch hesitated.

"If you refuse, I understand. And I would be very sorry." She got the bottle, and filled two glasses. "If it helps, Corporate feels the same way you do. They're blaming me for Wald's death. I'm to be fed to the court of public opinion."

Hutch didn't care much for brandy. "I'm not sure whose fault it was," she said, reaching for a glass. "At this point, it hardly matters."

Truscott looked somber. "Nobody wanted it to happen."

"Of course not." She couldn't quite keep the sting out of her voice. "We're all well-meaning."

The director nodded. "To Richard Wald," she said.

They drank, and Truscott refilled their glasses.