Free Polaris by Jack McDevitt Page A

me.”
    The Department of Planetary Survey and Astronomical Research was a semiautonomous agency, one-quarter supported by the government andthe rest by private donation. In an age when disease was rare, the great majority of kids had two parents, and everybody ate well, there were few charities for those who enjoyed helping out, which seems to be a substantial fraction of the population. Makes me hopeful for the future when I think about it. But the point is that social conditions meant there was lots of money available for kids’ athletic associations and research organizations. Of those, none was quite as visible or romantic as Survey, with its missions into unexplored territory. There are tens of thousands of stars in the Veiled Lady alone, enough to keep us busy well into the future. And, if the history of the last few thousand years is any indication, we’ll probably keep at it indefinitely. It’s always been an effort that engages the imagination, and you never really know what you might find. Maybe even Aurelia, the legendary lost civilization.
    Survey was controlled by a board of directors representing the interests of a dozen political committees and the academic community and a few well-heeled contributors. The chairman, like the director, was a political appointee, rotated out every two years. He, or she, had a nominal scientific background but was primarily a political animal.
    Survey’s administrative offices occupied six prime acres on the north side of the capital, along the banks of the Narakobo. Its operational center was located halfway across the continent, but it was in administration that policy decisions were made, where the missions were approved, and the choices taken as to where they would go. It was where technical personnel were recruited to man the starships and researchers came to defend their proposals for missions. There was also a public information branch. The latter was the unit Windy worked for, the people who were running the auction.
    Survey had moved its headquarters about three years earlier from a battered stone building in center city to its current exclusive domain. Alex liked to think it had something to do with a resurgence of interest in heritage, sparked by his work on the Christopher Sim discoveries; but the truth was that a different political party had come to power, promises had been made, and real estate is always a good showpiece. But I’d never tell him that.
    As requested, we showed up fifteen minutes early and were conducted into Windy’s office by a human being rather than the avatar that usually got the assignment if you weren’t somebody they especially cared about. Windy was in a white-and-gold evening gown.
    I should comment that Alex always knew how to dress for these occasions, and—if I may modestly say—I looked pretty good myself. Black off-the-shoulder silk, stiletto heels, and just enough exposure to excite comment.
    I got a knowing smile from Windy, who made a crack about the hunting available that night. Then she was all innocent modesty while Alex fondled her with his eyes and told her how lovely she looked.
    The office was illuminated by a single desk lamp. She might have turned up the lights, but she didn’t. Everybody looks more exotic when you can’t see too well. “Who gets the proceeds?” Alex asked, when we’d settled into chairs. “From the auction?”
    â€œNot us,” she said.
    â€œWhy not? Where’s it go?”
    â€œSurvey is funded by the Council.”
    â€œI understand that. But the Polaris was Survey’s baby. It’s your equipment. Your mission. Anyhow, the bulk of the funding comes from private sources.”
    Windy sent out for a round of drinks. “You know how it is with government,” she said. “In the end, they own everything.”
    Alex sighed. “So what’s the occasion for the party? Who’s in town?”
    She had a malicious