“Pardon me. Which way is down?”

Pause. “Toward the (something)—”

“Are you referring to the line around the center of the planet? Probably the hottest area?”

“Yes.”

And so it went. It took a while, but they figured it out. Look for a wide river. Follow the river in the direction of the equator. Pass a city in which the tallest building is shaped, at the top, like a needle. Beyond, east of the city, the river forks. Follow the side that angles back in the direction of Seattle. Find a smaller city nearby. On the far side of the city—

Here, Hutch interrupted him: “Is it remote? Do you have neighbors?”

“Yes.”

“Can you suggest a place where we could have some privacy?”

“Not anyplace that might have a runway.”

“We don’t need a runway.”

“Oh, yes. I forgot.”

“Well?”

“I think I can arrange something.”

MATT WANTED TO go down with the mission. “It’s my turn,” he persisted.

This was a big moment, and he intended to be there when it happened. He didn’t say that, but she knew that was the point. And he also probably thought that if trouble developed—after all, who knew what would really be waiting for them?—it would be better for all if he were there. Hutch, after all, wasn’t young, and she was also a woman.

“Okay, Matt. It’s all yours. You’ll be taking both Antonio and Rudy with you. How about Jon?”

“Of course,” Jon said. “I wouldn’t miss this.”

“Be careful,” she told Matt. “Keep the circuits open. And use Mac’s lander.”

“Sure. But what difference does it make?”

“If I have to come after you, I won’t want to spend time chasing down a lander.”

“I don’t think you’re going to have to come bail us out.”

“Neither do I. But we should consider the possibility that this might not turn out the way we want it to.”

“Okay. I can’t argue with that.”

“You’ll have weapons with you?”

“Of course.”

“There’s something else we might set up. As a precaution.”

“What’s that?”

“Your lander doesn’t have a mounted projector, does it?”

“No.”

“Neither does ours. Okay, Matt, I want you to pull a projector from storage. If you don’t have one, use the one from the VR tank.”

“To do what?”

“Put it on the hull. And there’s a sequence from Battle Cry that I want you to have available.”

“From what?”

“From Battle Cry. It’s probably in your library. Doesn’t matter, though. I’ll send it over. Just in case.”

“You worry too much, Hutch.”

ANTONIO’S NOTES

Biggest day of my life…

—Sunday, December 23

chapter 26

MR. SMITH HAD access to a lodge in an isolated area. It was located on a lakefront amid dense forest and low, rolling hills. Matt descended until the glare from a distant city had disappeared below the horizon, and the world grew dark. There were few artificial lights in evidence, a couple off to the west, another on a hilltop below him, and a campfire a kilometer or two to the north.

They’d been directed to watch for the lake, a long narrow curving body of water, of which the northern tip arced east, and the southern, west. It had surprised Matt how difficult it was to describe the shape when the two speakers had no common images. No letter ‘S.’ No way to determine what serpentine meant. And no way to measure distance. How long was a kilometer? It was the distance Matt could walk in about twelve minutes, but how long would Mr. Smith need?

It would have helped if visual communication had been possible. The satellites that had been placed around the Orion Arm by Mr. Smith’s ancestors transmitted both audio and visual signals. But, unless there was more going on here than Smith knew, the visual component was lost.

“There’s the lake,” said Jon.

It didn’t much fit the description, but it was the only lake in sight. And there was a single cluster of lights. Otherwise, the entire region was dark.

The lodge had two stories and was made of logs. Smoke drifted out of a chimney, and lights were on in every window. An outside lamp illuminated the deck. Their first impression was that it would not have been out of place in Minnesota. But as they drew closer, they saw it would have been too small, the deck too confined, the ceilings too low to be comfortable for human beings.

“It has a dock,” said Jon. And a shed with a boat rack, holding something that looked like a small canoe.

There was no place to set down except at the lakefront. Matt would have preferred something a bit less exposed, but he saw no option unless they were prepared to walk two or three kilometers. That wasn’t a good idea. Better to keep the lander nearby in case they had to leave in a hurry.

He descended directly in front of the lodge. Lights were on inside, but curtains had been drawn across the windows. He could see movement inside.

Matt slipped a laser into his belt, and they activated their e-suits.

Hutch’s voice came from the Preston: “Everything looks quiet in the area, Matt.”

The front door opened. Something stood in the light, peering out.

Hutch’s hobgoblin. She had it exactly right. It squinted in the lander’s lights, and Matt shut them down. Its head was bald, and the features were scrunched as if someone had squeezed them from forehead to chin. But that was an exaggeration because it didn’t really have a chin. It was there, but not so much that you’d notice.

The thing wore dark baggy pants and a loose-fitting jacket. A triangular cap was folded over its skull. Altogether, it was a ridiculous-looking creature, save that it bore itself with a casual demeanor that suggested a few aliens on the lawn was not something to get excited about.

“Hutch,” he said into his commlink. “We’re down. And we have someone waiting for us.”

“I see him, Matt. Okay. You’re tied into Phyl.”

“Thanks.”

“Good luck.”

He ran a check with the AI. Phyl would listen on his channel for Matt’s comments, would translate the comments for the alien, and would then translate the alien’s response. Simple enough.

He opened the hatch, climbed onto the ladder, and watched the creature’s eyes go wide as it took him in. It backed off a step or two.

Matt spoke into his commlink. “Mr. Smith?”

Phyl said something that Matt couldn’t make out. The creature responded with a hiss and some gurgles. Phyl translated: “Yes, I am Mr. Smith. Are you Priscilla?”

The open door behind the creature revealed a room that appeared to be empty. But he saw immediately they would have trouble using the furniture or standing up straight.

“No. My name is Matt. These are Jon, Rudy, and Antonio.”

The hobgoblin closed its eyes and inclined its head. “I am fortunate to meet you.” It stepped out onto the deck.

“And it is good,” said Matt, “to meet you.” The language had no rhythm. It consisted of grunts and clacks and hisses. He could see the creature was reluctant to get too close to them, yet its mouth hung open in a very humanlike response.

Mr. Smith’s eyes had gone very wide. It stared at Matt. And at the lander. And at Jon. Then at the sky. And at Rudy and Antonio. And finally, it turned its attention back to Matt. It made a gurgling sound that Phyl could not translate. Then, in a sudden burst, it moved past them and hurried to the lander.

It touched the vehicle, making more unintelligible sounds, and drew its finger across the hull. (Matt noticed it had six digits.) “Beautiful,” it said finally. “You have a remarkable aesthetic.”