Infinity Beach

“Not in all,” she admitted. “Most of the systems have multiple stars and can’t maintain planetary bodies in stable orbits. Others don’t have worlds in the biozone—”

“Dr. Brandywine.” He drew himself up until he seemed all beard, eyes, and backbone. “The truth is we still don’t know very much about the origin of life, so it would seem to me somewhat presumptuous to pretend we can state with any degree of certainty what the required conditions are. The only thing we can be sure of is that several hundred systems will receive an extensive radiation bath over the next century or so. We might destroy the very thing we say we’re looking for.”

The waiter appeared. Kim settled for a salad. She had little appetite for these confrontations. Her companion ordered a dish of steamed rice and cabana eel.

“Brother Kendrick,” she said, “we were aware of the danger from the begi

His voice softened. “I know you would like to do the right thing, Dr. Brandywine. But it seems to us that we’re far too cavalier with these efforts.” The waiter brought calder wine and Kim offered, as a toast, the Theosophical Society. Brother Kendrick hesitated. “Under these circumstances, I think that might be inappropriate. Let us drink instead to your health, Dr. Brandywine.”

The wine tasted flat. “I can assure you we did everything within reason,” she insisted.

“Except stop the event.” Kendrick wore a white shirt with a gray ribbon tie and a gray jacket. His eyes were of the same hue, and there was in fact a general grayness about the man that suggested he’d given up on human nature and was now beyond being shocked. Kim felt the full weight of his moral judgment. “When they tested the first hydrogen bomb,” he said, “there was some concern that the explosion would set off a chain reaction. Blow up the entire planet. Scientists felt the chance of such an occurrence was slight, so they took it. Risked everything we ever were, everything we might ever become.” He examined his drink, and then downed it in a swallow. “Dr. Brandywine,” he said, “how is that action different from what the Institute has done?”

“There’s no one in the area,” she said again. “No one we could possibly harm.”

Bars of sunlight fell across his stern features. “Let us hope you are right.”

She was glad to get back to her office. When Matt asked her how the luncheon had gone, she complained that Brother Kendrick had been immovable. No amount of argument about the conditions that had to exist before organic molecules could appear had any effect on him. “He said that anything short of a physical search, everywhere, was inadequate.”

“I’m sorry,” said Matt. “But we had to make the effort.”

“You can have him next time.”

“I had him last time.” He tapped his desktop. “I thought maybe he’d be receptive to feminine charm.”

“You owe me,” said Kim.

He nodded. “I’ll treat for lunch tomorrow. By the way, Solly was trying to get hold of you.”

Solly was in a seminar at the moment, and she had to wait till the end of the afternoon to speak with him. His image appeared in her office as she was getting ready to go home. “No luck,” he said.

“With the Archives? I thought you knew somebody.”

“They’ve got a big integrity push now. Apparently caught one of their people diverting the Archives’s funds into her own account.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

She had di

“Find the Marmora,” he said, “and my life will have counted for something.”

He sounded like Kile Tripley.

Like Emily, now that she thought of it.

Maybe like herself.

10

Men are so slow-witted and give themselves so easily to the desires of the moment that he who will deceive will always find a willing victim.

Kile’s widowed mother, Sara Tripley Baines, lived in Eagle Point now, had lived there at the time of the event. A search turned up several hits and a couple of recent pictures: She liked to dress formally, and was quite striking even by the heightened standards of the age. Her bearing demonstrated that she was fully aware of her charms.

Sara was the president of an architectural club which a

Kim consulted the directory for her number, picked up one of the Institute’s virtual projectors, and went to a public booth to ensure she could not be co

The house AI answered.

“Hello,” said Kim. “This is Kay Braddock calling. I’d like to speak with Sara Baines, please?”

“May I ask what your business is with Mrs. Baines?”

Kim hesitated. “I’m working on a book about the Severin Valley,” she said. “I understand she was an eyewitness to the Mount Hope event, and I wondered whether she would be willing to spare a few minutes to provide some details.”

The AI asked her to wait, and Kim squirmed. First bribery, now this. What was going to be next? Burglary?

She recognized Sara’s voice. “Kay Braddock?” she said, with perfect diction. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of you.”

“I’m probably not well known,” said Kim. “Mrs. Baines, I appreciate your talking to me.”

Kim’s visual signal lit up. An image of the aristocratic redhead had just appeared in front of Sara. “Why did you choose me?” Sara asked.

“I watched you speak to the Tupla alumni last year about the expansion project. You seemed to be very observant, and very concerned about the welfare and history of the community.”

“Thank you,” she said. “That’s kind of you.” Sara blinked into view. She was seated in a gray Polynex chair, with a black cat coiled in her lap. She was tall, clear-eyed, no-nonsense, accustomed to being in charge, but pleased at the possibility of appearing in a book. “What kind of book are you writing? It’s hard to see what anyone could add to the material that’s already been assembled about Mount Hope.”

“A woman’s perspective. I’m interested in the long-term effects of the disaster on the families of the victims.”

“Oh,” she said. And there was a catch in her voice, which did nothing to assuage Kim’s rising sense of guilt. “I can tell you about that.” She cautioned Kim that she had not actually been an eyewitness, that she’d flown down immediately after the event, arriving while the fires were still burning. She described those first hours in general terms, the agony she’d witnessed, the bodies, the hysteria, the sheer empty-eyed shock. She avoided describing her own emotions while facing the increasing probability that her son had been lost.