We were still twenty minutes from launch when I got a call from station ops. “Chase, there’ll be a slight delay this morning. Lombard and Eun will be late.”
“What happened?”
“They’re in conference. Anticipate delay approximately ten minutes.”
“Ops, I have thirty-seven people on board. We’re going to keep them waiting while Lombard and Eun do a conference?”
“What can I tell you, Chase? Lombard’s a VIP.”
“We can’t tell him we’re leaving on schedule, and he should get his rear end down here?”
“Negative. I’ll let you know when they’re on their way.”
I informed Marv, and finished the checkoff. When the passengers were all in place, all except the VIPs, I got on the intercom and welcomed them on board. “Our first stop will be Arkon,” I told them. “We’ll be in jump status for a bit more than forty-four hours. When we enter hyperspace, you probably won’t notice anything other than the fact there’ll be no stars to look at. It is possible you’ll experience a mild tingling, or even an upset stomach. Probably not, though. Most people don’t have any problem with the transition. If you do, let one of the flight attendants know, and we can provide medication. We’ll be making our jump approximately two hours after launch. I’ll let you know when.
“We’re happy to have you with us, and will do everything we can to ensure that you enjoy the flight. Cabins are in the rear of the spacecraft, even numbers on the left, odd on the right. My name is Kolpath. If you need assistance, push the large green button. One other thing, we’ll be a few minutes late getting off. We appreciate your patience, and we thank you for riding Rigel.”
The scheduled departure time came and went. The additional ten minutes passed with no sign of Lombard and Eun. “They’re still in conference,” said Ops. “We’ve got one of our people up there watching them. He’ll let us know as soon as they break up.”
“This is ridiculous,” I said.
“Chase, Lombard’s a big man. He’s on half a dozen boards, and nobody wants to offend him. Just sit tight. It’s not as if you can’t make up the time.”
I went back into the passenger cabin and assured everybody that the delay would have no effect on the duration of the flight. I explained that they were free to wander around the ship and that I’d give them five minutes’ warning before departure. But they weren’t happy. Maybe it was because we couldn’t serve breakfast until we were under way. Maybe because they didn’t like being kept waiting. They probably assumed that a shuttle was late coming into the station. I’m not sure how they’d have reacted had they known they were being held up by a couple of guys who just weren’t in a hurry.
When three-quarters of an hour had passed, I got back on the circuit with operations. “Anything yet?”
“They’re still in conference, Chase.”
“Does this happen all the time?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘all the time.’”
“Why don’t these guys buy their own ships?”
“They don’t travel that much, Chase. But when they do—”
“I know. Three cheers for management.”
TWENTY-THREE
The vast majority of conversations are little more than entertainments, digressions, set pieces. Foremost among the few that matter are the ones I have with myself.
—Nolan Creel, The Arnheim Review, XIII, 12
We were an hour and forty minutes late getting under way. Lombard and Eun offered no explanation, no apology, no indication they were even aware of holding up the flight. They simply came on board and behaved as if nothing had happened. I wondered whether they had done it deliberately, thinking it would impress the rest of us with their importance. Or maybe they were trying to impress themselves.
The flight itself was okay. I spent most of my time mingling with the passengers, and even managed to overlook the rudeness of the two VIPs. Eun, though, seemed decent enough. He was the junior guy, and it became rapidly apparent who the troublemaker was.
We ran some VR, turned the kids and some of the adults loose in the entertainment section, and played bingo. The passengers, given a choice of shows, voted for a virtual concert by the Warwick Trio.
A couple of the passengers drank too much, and that became a problem. Jack advised me about the standard procedure for handling drunks, which was to give them a whiff of a nephalic. That brought them back down.
I spent a fair amount of time on the bridge, talking to Jack. I told him about Rachel, and how I’d bailed out on Alex, and how I hated my life. I don’t think I realized how gloomy I’d gotten until I finally broke down and had those conversations with the AI. He listened and didn’t launch into a series of reassurances the way a human would have. AIs are designed to reflect reality, as least as they see it.
“I’ve never understood the concept of guilt,” he said, when I’d finished. “On a superficial level, of course. Do good and avoid evil, and pay a psychological price if you fail to comply. That is simple enough. The problem is that we are really talking about intent. There is no other way to define evil. But sometimes people inadvertently cause damage to others. Sometimes it can’t be helped, and one must choose the lesser of evils. In any case, the fault may result from negligence; it may result from positive action; it may result from indecision. In all of these cases, regardless of intent, the human guilt complex may be expected to cut in.”
“Okay.”
“It’s your conditioning, Chase. You have to get past that. You did not choose to injure Rachel Bannister.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Chase, the incident is unfortunate. But you are not responsible. Even Rachel understood that. Do not punish yourself.”
“Thanks, Jack.”
“You must get control of your conscience.”
But I kept seeing Rachel’s eyes when she told me it wasn’t my fault. And when she got away from me and began to fall. They were full of fear.
Jack showed up in the right-hand seat. It was the first time he’d used a hologram representation. He came across as a father figure, with steel blue eyes and a neatly trimmed white mustache. He wore the same uniform I did, though without the rank designators. “Chase,” he said, “you’ll never be free of this until—”
“Until what?”
“Until you can show that your actions were justified.”
I looked at him a long time. “What if they weren’t?”
“I think that is an unlikely outcome.”
That third flight was a rocky ride, and I was glad to get to Arkon. Almost half the passengers, including Lombard and Eun and the two drunks, got off. The rest waited at the station while cargo was removed and replaced. We routinely stay overnight at the station, and I was glad to be out of the ship. In the morning, we were on our way to Arcturus.
Among the passengers we picked up were a married couple who were at each other’s throat the rest of the voyage. Not that they were screaming at each other, or fighting, per se. But they glared a lot. Neither could manage a civil tone. And the atmosphere in the cabin changed accordingly. The party climate went away, and we tiptoed around each other. I remember thinking that we needed the drunks back.