Going Interstellar (44 page)
Read Going Interstellar Online
Authors: Les Johnson,Jack McDevitt
“It’s my Peisinoe’s favorite song, too,” said Knibbs. “Or it was, before I lost her.”
Suddenly FarTrekker frowned. “And that’s Leucosia’s
voice
!”
He examined the speakers, but the sound was not emanating from them. He then turned to Vladimir. “You’re our engineering expert,” he said. “Where the hell is that sound originating, and how can we be hearing it if it’s not being broadcast by the ship’s speaker system?”
Vladimir shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Theoretically we
can’t
be hearing it.”
“Spare me your theories,” said FarTrekker. “Can any external source be bypassing the speakers and broadcasting that melody directly into the ship, anything we can trace?”
“No,” said Vladimir. “We’re maintaining radio silence. However the sound is reaching us, it’s not through any mechanism on the
Argo
.”
The three men fell silent then, as the melody washed over them, caressing them with emotions and memories, some real, some they only wished were real.
“She’s alive,” said FarTrekker at last. “She’s alive, and she’s found a way to get to me!”
Knibbs agreed, except the “she” was his Peisinoe, and Vladimir, who remained silent, knew that the voice he heard, conjuring feelings he thought he’d forgotten, belonged to his Ligeia.
“We must be close!” said FarTrekker. “I never heard her on Earth, or in orbit, or even as we passed by Mars.”
“And Jupiter is still farther from us than Earth,” noted Vladimir.
“So she must be close by,” concluded FarTrekker, and the other two agreed with him, though each silently substituted a different name for “she.” “What’s the largest asteroid in the vicinity?”
Knibbs checked his computer. “Got one, maybe eight hundred miles in diameter, about ten thousand miles off to the right, and getting closer every second.” He paused. “Got a bit of an atmosphere, but nothing any human can breathe.”
“Does it have a name, or just the usual numbers and letters?” asked FarTrekker.
“Yeah, this one’s got a name: Anthemoessa.” Knibbs frowned. “Seems somehow familiar, though I’ll swear I never saw it referred to before.”
“I have,” said Vladimir. “But I’ll be damned if I can remember where.”
The strangest expression crossed FarTrekker’s face. “I can remember.” Then he fell silent.
“Well?” demanded Knibbs.
“It’s the island where the Sirens lived,”
“You’re not suggesting
Sirens
are singing to us!” scoffed Vladimir.
“Besides, Anthemoessa, if it existed at all, was in the Mediterranean, remember?” added Knibbs. “Near Greece somewhere.”
“Maybe whoever named this asteroid knew something we don’t know,” said FarTrekker, and added “yet” silently.
“Ridiculous!” said Vladimir.
“Okay, maybe not,” said FarTrekker. “You explain the song.”
“I can’t.”
“But you can hear it, and you’ve heard it before,” persisted FarTrekker.
“I think so.”
“You know so,” said FarTrekker. “Admit it: don’t you recognize the voice?”
Vladimir seemed to be having a brief battle within himself. Finally he sighed. “Yes. It’s my Ligeia.”
“I’ve got something interesting here,” said Knibbs. The other two turned to him. “According to the computer, the asteroid was named almost a century ago by Mortimer Highsmith.”
“So?” asked FarTrekker.
Knibbs smiled. “He was a widower.”
“That’s all?” said Vladimir.
“He never came back.”
“Where did he die?” asked Fartrekker.
“No one knows,” answered Knibbs.
FarTrekker looked at the viewscreen. “We’ll find his body there,” he said, pointing to Anthemoessa. “Unless he’s still alive.”
“He’d be about a hundred and forty years old,” noted Knibbs.
“Who knows what wonders can transpire on Anthemoessa?” replied FarTrekker. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“He’d better not have laid a hand on my Ligeia!” muttered Vladimir.
“Maybe we should think this through,” said Knibbs. “If they’re Sirens or the equivalent, who knows what will happen if we answer their call? It’s a strange and not always friendly universe out here.”
The three men fell silent for a moment, considering their options—but the ship didn’t fall silent, and the hauntingly beautiful melody permeated every atom of it.
Finally FarTrekker spoke. “Listening to this melody for the past ten minutes has made me happier than any time since my Leucosia died. It should hurt, but it doesn’t; it brings her back to me, and the only thing that hurts is being apart from her.” He looked at his two shipmates. “Maybe they’re who we hope they are. Maybe we’re in some parallel universe where they didn’t die. Maybe they’re Sirens. And maybe they’re something else.” He paused briefly. “Has anyone got anything better to do?”
Nobody did, FarTrekker saw no reason to report what had happened, none of the three had any soulmate to say good-bye to, and the
Argo
altered course and headed for Anthemoessa and out of this story.
What happened?
Well, the pundits say that they were either struck by an asteroid or crashed into one. The cynics say they knew they couldn’t win and were afraid to show their faces ever again. The romantics say they found exactly what they were looking for.
Who was right?
Anyone who wants can find out. Anthemoessa is still up there, its song available to anyone who is willing to listen.
Table of Contents
TWENTY LIGHTS TO “THE LAND OF SNOW”