The Long Sunset (The Academy) - Hardcover

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Jack McDevitt is the Nebula Award–winning author of The Academy series, including The Long Sunset. He attended La Salle University, then joined the Navy, drove a cab, became an English teacher, took a customs inspector’s job on the northern border, and didn’t write another word for a quarter-century. He received a master’s degree in literature from Wesleyan University in 1971. He returned to writing when his wife, Maureen, encouraged him to try his hand at it in 1980. Along with winning the Nebula Award in 2006, he has also been nominated for the Hugo Award, the Arthur C. Clarke Award, the John W. Campbell Memorial Award, and the Philip K. Dick Award. In 2015, he was awarded the Robert A. Heinlein Award for Lifetime Achievement. He and his wife live near Brunswick, Georgia.

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The Long Sunset

1.

Ah! Then, if mine had been the Painter’s hand,

To express what then I saw; and add the gleam,

The light that never was, on sea or land,

The consecration, and the Poet’s dream;

I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile

Amid a world how different from this!

Beside a sea that could not cease to smile;

On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss.

—William Wordsworth, “Elegiac Stanzas Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm,” 1807

On the day that everything changed, it rained. Derek Blanchard’s car eased into the faculty parking lot while precipitation poured down across the University of Pennsylvania. A few students were hurrying through the storm. Otherwise, the campus looked empty. Derek pulled on his raincoat, tugged the hood into place, grabbed his briefcase, and got out of the car.

Ten minutes later he was seated at a table in the Gateman Conference Room with a half dozen doctoral candidates. He was an African American, tall, with a close resemblance to Hollywood star Alan Parkman, and a baritone voice that people took seriously. Guessing ages during an era when almost no one looked more than thirty was tricky, but most of his students had done the research, so they knew he’d been around a long time.

They were discussing theses. Each was targeted on aspects of stellar evolution. Derek outlined the requirements for a reasonable analysis, laid out the time limits, and went over other technical details. The candidates, three men and three women, submitted their topics. Derek supported some, recommended a completely different approach for two, and added a few general suggestions. It was hard to keep focused because of what was coming next.

When they’d finished, he closed his notebook. “There’s something else,” he said. “For anyone who’s free, we’ll have access to the Van Entel this morning from eleven fifteen to twelve thirty.” The Van Entel was the supertelescope, which was in solar orbit. “We’ll not only be able to look through it, but we’ll be controlling it. If you’d like to sit in, stop by the Data Collection Center. But come early. And I’m sorry about the last-minute notification, but none of us saw this coming.”

Derek was an astronomer, a physicist, a mathematician, and a WSA consultant. The latter gave him a few benefits, like the Van Entel, which he enjoyed passing on to his students. He was also a frequent guest speaker at scientific conferences. When he got in front of a microphone and looked out across an audience, he almost changed character. No one would ever have called him reserved, but he was not inclined to take over a conversation. On stage, however, he held his listeners’ attention, provoked laughter, and enjoyed himself immensely.

Of the students, Karen Blum had probably the most potential. She showed serious analytical capabilities, she was ambitious, and she had an IQ that topped 160. She followed him out of the room. “Professor Blanchard,” she said, “may I ask what project you’ll be working on? With the Van Entel?”

“I don’t have a specific project, Karen,” he said. “You might think of me more as an eavesdropper. They’ll be looking out at the Kellerman Cluster today. At some stars nobody’s ever paid much attention to. They’re trying to get them cataloged.”

Karen literally hugged herself. “How far are they?”

“Seven thousand light-years. Give or take.”

“Beautiful. Is there anything special about them?”

“Not really. Actually, they’re not so much interested in the stars as they are in the telescope. It’s still in its testing phase.”

“Oh yes, of course.”

“We’ll be using the Hynds as well.”

“The ultra-radiotelescope.”

“Right. It’s in orbit too, and it’s also aimed at the area. We’d like to see what else we can learn about what’s going on out there.”

Her eyes brightened. “You planning on taking a trip to the area anytime soon?”

That was a reference to Derek’s background, which consisted of several interstellar missions. That was one of the reasons he retained his situation with the World Space Authority while simultaneously teaching at Penn. “Maybe next week,” he said.

“That’s a joke, right? They’re closing down the interstellar flights, aren’t they?”

“If we let them.”

“Do you think the Centauri Initiative will really pass?”

“I hope not.”

Karen’s amicable expression turned hostile. “Why do those idiots worry so much about alien invasions? There probably aren’t any aliens who would be interested in bothering us. There are hardly any aliens at all.”

He managed a pained smile. “It’s an election year.”

• • •

The Data Collection Center was almost filled when he arrived twenty minutes early. Linda DuBreuil, the director, was standing guard by the group of seats reserved for the faculty. They were in front of the main screen. An additional eighty chairs were there to accommodate students and a few instructors not connected with the astronomy department. They were filling up as he walked in. The event had gotten coverage in the media, and he expected it to be picked up by the Science Channel.

Linda saw him and got out of her chair. “Hello, Derek. You ready to go?”

“Oh, yes.” He loved each new development in telescopes. Loved being part of the process, even when he was merely serving as a PR guy.

They sat down and she handed him a microphone and an ear pod. “You want to do the intro?”

“Sure,” he said. “If you like.”

Linda had a smile that could light up the entire room. “It’s your party, Derek.”

“Good enough.” He put the pod in his right ear so he could hear Ben, the AI, and turned the microphone on. “Ben, you there?”

“I’m here, Professor. We’re on schedule.”

Linda looked to their right, where a couple of people he didn’t know were getting seated with the science faculty. “We have some media,” she said.

• • •

The center filled and they had to bring in extra chairs, and finally just leave the doors open for any who wanted to stand in the rear. At five after eleven Derek got to his feet, turned to face the audience, and made some introductory comments about the Kellerman Cluster and the capabilities of the Van Entel. He was almost finished when Ben cut in. “Professor, we’ve received another alert from the Coordination Office.” The Coordination Office was located on the Union Space Station. “Control system will be transferred to us in one minute.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re apparently ready to go.” Derek lowered his voice. “Okay, Ben. Activate the display.” The screen lit up, as did a couple of smaller displays around the room. Derek looked out over his audience. “We’ll be handling the operation from here. You’ll notice, incidentally, when we tell the control system what to do, there’ll be...