"A Modern Day Sherlock Mystery"
Reviewed by Kathyrn Little
Posted December 28, 2011
Science Fiction
FIREBIRD is likely to remind the reader of the much-loved
Sherlock Holmes series from their childhood. Kolpath is more
of a Watson and Benedict is more of a Sherlock, these two
must work together to figure out what happened behind the
disappearance of a noted physicist. This story will appeal to die hard readers of science
fiction. The author attempts to explore several interesting
and factual questions such as what qualifies as sentience.
Fans of in depth science will love the story comprised by
McDevitt for the lack of fluffy story lines that have been
common in the genre as of late. It is difficult to summarize
due to the complexity of the plot. The reader will be kept
entertained throughout the whole book. It is very hard to
put this book down for fear of missing another big discovery
or event. As Kolpath and Benedict dig deeper into the
mystery of the physicist's disapearance they find that
things are not always as they seem and that the problem is
much deeper than they originally thought. Each chapter of FIREBIRD begins with a relevant quote that
will entice the reader to continue reading much longer than
intended. The characters add a little subplot as well, a
romance is developing between Kolpath and Benedict that adds
some spice to the readers' enjoyment. There is so much
packed into this sixth novel in the series. Everything from
mystery to action to romance to intrigue. Science fiction
fans should mark this book down on their wishlist.
Learn more about Firebird
SUMMARY
Forty-one years ago the renowned physicist Chris Robin
vanished. Before his disappearance, his fringe science
theories about the existence of endless alternate universes
had earned him both admirers and enemies. Alex Benedict and Chase Kolpath discover that Robin had
several interstellar yachts flown far outside the planetary
system where they too vanished. And following Robin's trail
into the unknown puts Benedict and Kolpath in danger...
ExcerptPrologueLt. Jeremy Dalton frowned at the screen. "Nothing yet,
Steve?"
Steve Yaniwicz activated the expanded scan, pressed the
earpods to signal that the AI was telling him something,
checked a second display, and shook his head. "No, sir. No
sign of her yet."
Dalton was wearing his formal whites, in preparation for
the upcoming change of command ceremony. "Okay," he
said. "They have to be close. Let me know."
"Yes, sir."
He called the Command Duty Officer. "Still negative, Mr.
Brolley," he said.
"Check with the rest of the squadron, Jerry?"
"Yes, sir. They are not in the area." It had been almost
two hours since the Abonai's scheduled arrival time. The
Dellacondan star drive, like the Armstrong system that had
preceded it, wasn't too accurate. You might come out of it
thirty or forty million kilometers from your intended
destination. But they were providing extensive coverage.
Somebody should have picked up the cruiser by now.
"All right," Brolley said. He made no effort to hide his
concern. "Let Fleet know."
Admiral Thadeus O'Conner was on board the incoming ship,
scheduled to take command of the 314th Attack Squadron.
Dalton had never seen O'Conner, didn't know anything about
him, but he had to be an improvement over their current
commander, Mary D'Angelo. The woman who never smiled. Who
was impossible to work with. She thought nothing of chewing
out subordinate commanders in front of anyone who happened
to be present when she got annoyed. She insisted on telling
everyone, in microscopic detail, how to do their jobs. And
she had no respect for the chain of command. If she
disapproved of the way a junior officer was handling an
assignment, she didn't arrange to work through his boss;
she went after the offender herself. It was clear she
enjoyed raising hell, and there was no one in the squadron,
and especially on the Celestine, who would regret her
departure. As inevitably happened in such cases, she had
been promoted.
He turned back to the comm operator. "Steve--."
"Yes, Mr. Dalton."
"Get a message to comm ops at Point Edward. Tell them
we're still waiting. Ask them to provide an updated ETA."
Point Edward was, effectively, just down the street. A
twenty-minute flight. In and out of hyperpace. It was hard
to imagine what could be holding things up.
He watched Yaniwicz send the message. That, he
suspected, would be the signal for the cruiser to arrive.
But it didn't happen.
#
The transmission would also require about twenty minutes
to reach the Point. He looked out through the port at the
Veiled Lady, which, to him, bore no resemblance whatever to
a woman, but appeared simply as what it was: a nebula
filled with a million stars drifting through the night.
Janet McReady, who did indeed look very female, thought he
lacked imagination and pretended to feel sorry for him.
Janet would be assuming the watch in three hours. She
was an intellectual type, beautiful but pretentious. Read
philosophy and pretended to be able to see the child
peering out of Barnable's impenetrable art. How, she'd say,
could you miss it? Well, she looked good, and for a woman
that was enough.
He was still thinking about Janet when Yaniwicz raised a
hand to signal he had something. It was too soon for Point
Edward to have answered. Too soon for them even to have
received his message. He started toward the comm desk, but
Yaniwicz pointed at an auxiliary screen:
From: CDR, Third Fleet
To: Celestine
Subject: Abonai
Movement Report Abonai not received as of 1720Z. Confirm
Abonai your area.
Movement reports were routinely sent at departure and
arrival. Dalton squinted at the message, then forwarded it
to the CDO. Moments later, Mr. Brolley appeared in the
comm center. He did not look happy.
"Still nothing?" he asked. The CDO was easy-going, a guy
who never got excited. Dalton had been impressed with his
behavior under fire. He was exactly the man you wanted to
be with if you were having a serious problem.
"No, sir. No sign of her."
"Very well. Tell everybody in the squadron to take
another look. We want a report, positive or negative, from
every ship."
"Yes, sir."
"While we're at it, let's inform Point Edward that we
haven't seen them yet. Confirm whether they left on
schedule."
"We've already done that, sir. A few minutes ago."
Brolley sighed and walked out. He'd be keeping Admiral
D'Angelo informed, of course, which meant dealing with
another of her annoying habits. When something went wrong,
she had a tendency to sound as if it was the fault of the
reporting officer. He had no doubt that Brolley was already
feeling the heat.
Well, at least she hadn't come down to the comm center
yet. Instead she'd be descending on Operations, taking
control of the scanners and sensors and giving obvious
instructions. Dalton had seen her described in the Fleet
newsletter as a can-do hands-on officer.
The request went out and within minutes the destroyers
began to check back in. McMurtrie first: Negative on the
Abonai. Then Karasani. Then Hopewell.
It was of course an exercise in futility. The three
cruisers and six destroyers that comprised the Flag
Squadron were already doing what they could, watching their
screens, and ready to report at first sighting. Had they
seen anything, they'd have said something.
Wilson reported negative.
Cajun.
Eventually Yaniwicz got a reply from Point Edward: The
Abonai ETA has not changed. They left on schedule.
More than two hours ago for a flight that should have
taken twenty minutes.
Chiyoko negative.
Sattari negative.
#
"The drive's erratic, Mr. Dalton," said Yaniwicz. "It
could be on the other side of the sun."
"I know, Steve. It wouldn't be the first time. But it's
going to screw up the ceremony."
"I hope nothing's happened."
"So do I, Steve. They've probably just missed their
target. I hope."
Yaniwicz grinned uneasily. "Safer going to Rigel," he
said, "than going to the grocery." It was the standard
platitude of the interstellar transport lines.
But then there'd been the Capella. Nine years earlier,
on a flight from Rimway to Saraglia Station, it had made
its TDI jump and had never been seen again. Twenty-six
hundred people had gone with it.
And there'd been the Warburton, lost eighteen months
ago. Wreckage had been found, leading investigators to
believe its mass detectors had failed, and the ship had
tried to materialize inside an asteroid. Of course, had
that happened with the Abonai, there'd have been an
explosion of considerable magnitude. No way they could have
missed it.
#
They waited. Messages from Point Edward became
increasingly frantic. Patrol craft and destroyers began to
arrive to assist in the search.
Janet relieved the watch. Dalton returned to his
quarters, showered and changed, went to the officers' mess
for dinner, where of course the conversation focused
exclusively on the lost ship. Tag MacAllen had a sister on
board the Abonai, and Boros Razkuli, a son. Everybody knew
someone in the crew.
At midnight, when Dalton returned to his watch station,
there was still no word.
#
Six months later, the Abonai was formally declared lost.
An extensive search by a sizable portion of the fleet had
revealed nothing.
A memorial service was held at Point Edward, and another
at Toxicon, the Abonai's home port. To the dismay of the
Celestine's crew, Admiral D'Angelo was extended.
Investigations continued for a year and a half. All reached
the same nonresult: The Abonai, its crew, and Admiral
O'Conner, were missing due to cause or causes unknown.
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