OMEGA CLOUDS MAY BE A HOAX

EDEN FOUND

Former Paradise Now Desert in West Saud

Bones May Have Been Adam’s

Scientists to Try DNA Analysis

GHOST OF AI HAUNTS MISSISSIPPI TOWNHOUSE

END OF DAYS NEAR

“All Signs Point to November,” Says Harry Colmer

HEAVEN LOCATED

Astronomers Reveal Shocking Photos

Giant Star Cloud on Other Side of Galaxy

JESUS’ FACE SEEN ON EPSILON AURIGAE MOON

WOMAN HAS CHILD BY NOK

First Human-Alien Hybrid

Experts Said It Couldn’t Happen

Named Kor After Father

HURRICANE MELINDA SENT BY GOD?

Billy Pat Thomas Says Evidence Points to Divine Anger

Church-Going Back Up in Mississippi

ATLANTIS FOUND

VAMPIRE LOOSE IN ALBANY?

Six Victims Drained of Blood

Bite Marks on Throat

Police Baffled

PSYCHIC TREES ON QURAQUA

Branch Patterns Reveal Future, Experts Say

SHOCKING TRUTH BEHIND MURDER OF PREACHER’S WIFE

chapter 14

MATT HAD RESERVED his room at Union, expecting, hoping, to party through the night. Instead he canceled out, said good-bye to Hutchins and Jon, and caught the earliest available shuttle back to Reagan. Some of the students were on board. They wished him better luck next time.

Reyna called him en route. “Sorry,” she said.

He looked out the window. The skies over eastern North America and the western Atlantic were clear. “I guess we lost the school’s lander,” he told her.

“I guess. But they knew there was a chance that would happen.”

“I know. Maybe next time we should just send a missile.”

“Is that practical?”

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute. Then: “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“What will you do now?”

“Back to my desk at Stern and Hopkins.”

“No, I mean, are you going to give up on the drive?”

Two kids across the aisle were laughing hysterically at something. “It’s not really my call. But unless somebody is willing to donate another lander, yeah, I’d say my part in this drill is finished.”

Another pause. “What time are you getting in?”

“A bit after eight.”

“Can I treat for a drink tonight? Meet you at World’s End?”

“I appreciate it, Reyna, but it’s been a horribly long day. Let’s do it tomorrow, okay?”

MATT RARELY ATE at home. He didn’t like eating alone, so he usually went to Cleary’s or one of the other local restaurants. But not tonight. He picked up a roast beef sandwich at Reagan and took it with him in the taxi. It was a fifteen-minute flight below threatening clouds. As the vehicle descended onto his ramp, rain began to fall. He paid, went inside, said hello to the AI, kicked off his shoes, and turned on the news. There was nothing on the Locarno. Religious warfare was heating up in Africa and the Middle East, and a squabble was developing between the NAU and Bolivia over trade agreements.

He switched to Loose Change, one of the season’s dumber comedies, but it played just about at the level he needed. He poured a cup of coffee and nibbled his way through the sandwich. Not much appetite.

Jon had been hiding his feelings when they’d said good-bye. He’d thanked Matt and pretended not to be discouraged. There’ll be somebody out there, he’d said, who’ll be willing to take a chance.

And the truth was, he had less reason to be discouraged than Matt did. Jon could go back to tinkering with the theory. The corporations would come forward, and he’d get to try again. But Matt was done. He could expect to spend the rest of his life in northern Virginia, moving town houses, and wondering how things had come to this.

Well, he told himself, at least you have your health.

He could not sleep, so he stayed up, and was watching Last Train to Bougainville, a more or less incomprehensible mystery, when the AI’s voice broke in: “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir. But you’ve a call.” The room was dark except for the blue ring of light emanating from the clock. It was a few minutes short of midnight. “It’s from Union. From Dr. Silvestri.”

No. He was done with it. Didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Just tell him to go away, Basil.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

He tried to straighten himself. One of the cushions fell on the floor. “Yes. No. Okay, put him through. Audio only.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hello, Jon.” Matt rolled over onto his back. His eyes were closed. “What’s going on?”

“Matt.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve got it. It came in.”

“What came in?” A new pledge of support? An offer of another lander?

“The transmission.”

That brought him awake. “The one we were waiting for?

“You know any others?”

“What happened? Why the delay? Did the equipment break down?”

“It must have. We don’t know.”

“When? When did you hear it?” He was already annoyed that Jon had been so slow to let him know.

“A few minutes ago.”

“You’re kidding.”

He flicked on the visual. Jon was sitting in an alcove off one of the concourses. He looked tired, relieved, and puzzled. “Do I look as if I’m kidding?” he said.

“Good. Great. So the Locarno worked, right? It’s out where it’s supposed to be?”

“Matt. We don’t know that either.”

“When will we know?”

“It’ll take a while. The only thing I can figure is that the onboard system didn’t trigger the radio when it was supposed to.”

“Yeah,” said Matt. “That sounds like what happened.”

“There’s another possibility.”

“What’s that?”

“You remember we talked about uncertainties in the theory? It’s why we had the fudge factor in the timing. We weren’t sure precisely how far it would go.”

“Sure.”

“It might have gone a lot farther than we thought.”

“You mean it might have traveled longer than the six seconds it was supposed to?”

“Maybe. Or it might have stayed with the original program. And covered a lot more ground than we expected it to.”

HUTCHINS HAD SPENT the evening with friends and gotten in at about eleven. Her AI commiserated with her, and the house that night felt emptier than usual.

She’d never really put much confidence in the Locarno. It had been a shot in the dark. She’d spent her career with the Hazeltine, and it was hard to accept the idea that there might be a more efficient system. Getting old, she told herself. She’d become resistant to change. But still, going to Pluto in a few seconds was just too much. Nevertheless, she was glad to see someone trying. Even if she doubted the motivation. Jon seemed less interested in providing impetus to the interstellar effort than he did in garnishing his own reputation. She’d heard his claims about doing it all for Henry Barber, and maybe there was some truth to them. But she wondered whether, in his eyes, Henry Barber’s significance didn’t lie in the fact that he’d provided an opportunity for Jon to make a splash.

Well, however that might be, Jon was a decent enough guy, and maybe even a world-class physicist. There was no way she could judge that. Unless he managed to put something out on the edge of the solar system in about the same time that it took her to get to the kitchen.

She had too much adrenaline flowing to try to sleep, so she grabbed a snack and sat down with a murder mystery. George provided the appropriate musical score, and she was thoroughly caught up in it when Jon called with the news.