Chindi

There was a pause. Then Tor: “Hutch, he’s right. There’s just too much here.”

And even Alyx: “The place feels safe. I think we’ll be okay.”

“Do what you want,” she said. She severed the co

Chapter 26

NICK AND HUTCH were eating breakfast when Bill appeared on-screen. “I have something interesting for you,” he said. The display switched over to a picture of one of the bottles. Except that it had a curiously unfinished appearance. “This thing was a rock thirty hours ago.”

“The sacks.”

“That’s correct.”

“They’re nanopackages.”

“Yes.”

“So the chindi manufactures bottles,” she said. “Why?”

“Here’s another one.” It was fully formed. And as she watched it fired its thrusters and began to accelerate.

“Where’s it going, Bill?”

They watched it make a few more adjustments. Then: “It’s headed back to the chindi.”

By midafternoon, it had arrived. Doors opened and it vanished inside. A short time later, a second vehicle approached. And a third.

Hutch told George what was happening, that three bottles had gone inside, and he reported no evidence of any activity.

They were just sitting down to di

“The same ones?” she asked Bill.

“It’s impossible to be certain. But the interval between launches matches the interval between arrivals. It appears that the bottles are taken on board, treated in some way, probably fueled, possibly upgraded, and then disgorged.”

“To do what?”

“Yes. That is quite a good question, isn’t it?”

“Can you tell where they’re going?”

“They haven’t yet lifted out of orbit. When they do, I will try to make an estimate.”

Bill was as good as his word. He was back by late evening. More bottles had been taken on board and launched. Yes, the interval had been the same: two hours and seventeen minutes in each case. The first three had all left orbit and were headed in three different directions. Where? Nowhere he could discern. “Most are remaining approximately in the plane of the solar system,” he said. “But there doesn’t really seem to be any conceivable destination.”

“You’re looking inside the solar system.”

“Of course.”

“What about outside?”

“There’s no point in it, Hutch. These vehicles are too small to be superluminals.”

“The lander at the Retreat might be a superluminal.”

“The lander at the Retreat is bigger. And in any case I have my doubts.”

“Nevertheless, please assume the possibility and check for interstellar vectors.”

“I am doing that now.”

“What are you getting?”

“Near misses.”

“What?”

“Near misses. All three seem to be headed for nearby stars. But in each case, the aim seems inaccurate. They’re going to miss. By a small margin, but they will miss.”

“You mean they’re going to arrive in the boondocks of the system?”

“Yes. By several hundred A.U.s.”

THE CHINDI LAUNCHED more bottles, and after a few days, they had moved out beyond sca

Occasionally there was something of more scientific interest: a planet-sized object that Bill thought looked like a particle; a star being gobbled down by a black hole; a pulsar rotating wildly on its axis thirty times a second.

By far the majority of the chindi records dealt with civilizations, and of these the vast majority appeared dead. This was so consistently the case that it was easy to assume they were looking at an archeological mission that had occasionally strayed into other areas. The prevailing opinion at home held that civilizations, technological or not, were limited to a relatively brief lifetime. This view had risen from the fact that of the five known extraterrestrial civilizations (other than human), four appeared to have survived less than 10,000 years. And the fifth showed every inclination of blowing itself up in the near future.

Alyx observed that, if they could figure out a way to determine the expanse of the network of which the chindi seemed to be the center, it might finally become possible to get a reasonable estimate of how numerous extant civilizations might be at any one time.

Bill reported incoming from the Longworth.

The big cargo vessel had closed to within a transmission time of eighteen minutes, one way. It was therefore possible to conduct a conversation of sorts, with responses staggered at better than half hour intervals. But it required packaging what one had to say, and avoiding the more frivolous parts of dialogue.

Most of the Academy people Hutch ferried around the Arm were accomplished at their specialties, and they were usually more interested in their research than in boosting their egos. Her experience had taught her that people who insisted on having others recognize their outstanding qualities usually didn’t have any. They were inevitably failures or mediocrities.

Maurice Mogambo was an exception. In his case, ego and talent both seemed monumental. Although his primary area of expertise was physics, he also enjoyed a reputation as a leading theorist on the evolution of civilizations. She’d once listened to him discuss the effects of lunar systems on cultural and intellectual development. He’d made his arguments with an extraordinary array of punch lines. He’d won his audience over, and they’d applauded enthusiastically at the end. She’d learned later that he had earned his way through university as a comedian in a local club.

In person, though, one-on-one, he could be tiresome. He lectured rather than spoke. He expected to be treated with deference. And he inevitably conveyed the impression that he spoke from the mountain, and everyone else should listen closely. On the couple of occasions he had shown up on her passenger list, there’d been talk of murder among the other travelers before they got home. He was, in short, a joy to work with.

Now he gazed out at her from the screen and smiled pleasantly. “Hutch,” he said, “tell me about the extraterrestrial vessel. And the Retreat. What is happening?”

His image froze. Mogambo was not one to waste words.

She talked briefly to George, explained that she could not simply refuse to cooperate. George grumbled and gave his blessing.

She provided Mogambo with pictures of both the Retreat and the chindi. But she decided not to go into detail about what they’d found inside the giant ship. “Lots of corridors and chambers. Mostly empty. Some automated gear ru

It was of course possible to make a rational conversation under such conditions exceedingly tedious if one side was interested in doing it. Mogambo would be unhappy that she had left him to ask the obvious question, rather than providing the details.

She went for a sandwich while she waited for the a

“ARTIFACTS? WHAT KIND of artifacts? What have you found in the Retreat? And why in God’s name did you go on board the ship? You know better.”