She called up the museum’s AI. “I have a question for you, Meredith.”
“Yes, Amy?”
“If an asteroid were coming on a collision course with the museum, would you know about it?”
“The sensors would pick it up,” she said.
“How close would it be when they did?”
“That depends how big the asteroid is.”
“Two kilometers across.”
“We would detect it at a range of about three thousand kilometers.”
Eric returned with buns and fruit drinks. “How fast do they travel?” she asked him. “Asteroids?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. Probably ten or twenty kilometers a second.”
“Make it ten,” she said. “A slow one. That would give us five minutes warning.”
“Not very much,” said Eric.
She looked over at Mac. “Nothing bothers him, does it?”
Eric grinned. “No, it doesn’t look as if it does.”
“You scared, Eric?”
He nodded. “A little.”
SHE RETREATED TO one of the restrooms. There was no shower, so she had to use the sink to wash up. When she was finished she slipped into her nightgown, pulled on a robe, and padded back outside. Eric had turned off Mac’s lamp.
He’d gone into the other washroom, where she could hear him splashing around. All the bedding they’d brought from the Salvator had been placed in the middle of the room. She thought about moving hers into the gift shop to get some privacy, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be that far away from the others. Anyway, they might take offense if she went off by herself.
She climbed onto the pillows, which didn’t work very well. She couldn’t move without sliding off onto the floor. Finally, she got things arranged, lay back, whispered good night to Mac, and closed her eyes. Moments later Eric arrived. “Not very comfortable,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“It’s okay.”
“You need anything, Amy?”
“I’m good,” she said.
“All right. See you in the morning.”
It was one of those places where, when the lights were out, you kept hearing whispers. Air running through ducts. Barely audible blips and chirps from the electronics. Squeaks and rustlings from the corridor that opened into the museum’s interior. The sound of moving water somewhere far off.
In response to the attack on the Galactic Hotel, Jeremy Wicker (G-OH) yesterday introduced a bill requiring that all interstellar vehicles be armed. In a related development, there is now bipartisan support for the Brockton-Schultz measure, which would demand that the World Council begin construction of a space navy.
— Oversight, Saturday, April 25
chapter 28
Courage is perhaps our most admirable trait. The man, or woman, who possesses it is able to plunge ahead, despite dangers, despite warnings, despite hazards of all kinds, to attack the task at hand. Often, it is indistinguishable from stupidity.
— Gregory MacAllister, “The Hero in the Attic”
Amy woke up twice during the night. The second time she thought she heard something in the outer corridor, the one that led back to the exhibition rooms. She lay for some minutes, barely breathing, but there were only the usual sounds of the museum, the creaking, the electronic whispers, the flow of air, the barely audible hum of the cleaning system keeping the dust off the exhibits. She felt the slight pressure toward the outer bulkhead generated by the Surveyor’s movement around its own axis. Then she heard it again.
A footstep.
In the passageway.
Mac and Eric were both asleep.
“Meredith?” She whispered the name, got no response. Not loud enough. She thought about waking one of the men, but it would turn out to be nothing, and in the end she’d feel foolish.
And there it was again.
She got up, pulled on her robe, and padded across the floor. The passageway was dark, but there was just enough light to see it was empty. “Meredith?” she said, louder this time.
The avatar appeared a few steps down the corridor. “Yes, Amy? Did you need anything?”
“Are we alone in here? Is anybody else in the place?”
“No,” she said. “There are just the three of you.”
“Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”
Meredith winked off. The corridor was clear. She could see all the way back to the airlock and, beyond it, almost to the bridge. In the other direction lay the doors that opened into the main exhibit areas. Beyond that, where the VR chambers were, and some of the specialized displays, the corridor passed into darkness, save for two patches of starlight cast by viewports.
It was scary, but she was too old to be frightened by shadows and odd noises. She could remember hiding under the blankets at night sometimes when her father was gone on those inevitable junkets, and she was alone at home with the AI. He never knew how she’d felt, and would never have understood.
She took a few steps toward the exhibit doors. The AI obligingly turned lights on for her. She looked into the display rooms, and more lights came on. They were silent. She looked out one of the viewports at the stars. Arcturus was not directly visible, but its light illuminated part of a wing and a pair of thrusters. She passed by, checked the crew’s quarters, looking into each room. (They were sealed so you could look at them but could not enter.) She peeked into the VR chambers and the engineering spaces. And finally she retraced her steps, passed the welcome center and the airlock, and went up onto the bridge.
Nothing was amiss.
She felt proud of herself. All secure, Captain. She liked to think she would have acted as Emil Hightower did. She imagined herself moving through the crippled ship, seeing that passengers and crew got out, then coming back here, not taking time to put on one of the ungainly pressure suits they had then, no time for that, have to get to the radio.
Chan Ho Park, this is Taylor aboard the Surveyor. Blast in main engines. Code two. Code two.
She eased herself into the captain’s chair and repeated the message, Code two, come at once, position as follows, until the gathering dark began to take her, and she slumped back.
She had never before seen a bridge without viewports. The captain had been dependent on displays. There was probably nothing wrong with that, but it would have made her uncomfortable if she’d been sitting in the command chair.
Something moved behind her, and she jumped a foot, but it was only Eric. “Problems sleeping?” he asked.
“Not really. I thought I heard something.”
He glanced around. “Probably mice.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Maybe.” He gazed down at the controls. “I noticed you were missing. I just wanted to be sure you were all right.”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay. I’m going back to sleep.” He grinned at her. “You’re not going to take us anywhere, are you?”
“I thought maybe Quraqua,” she said.
He laughed. “Let’s let it go until morning.” And he got serious. “Don’t stay out here too long, Amy. It’s chilly.”
He trundled off through the hatch into the dim passageway. She wondered what it felt like to take a ship into a planetary system and put it in orbit around a living world.
When she had her own command, she would never quit the way Hutch had. Would never take an office job. Not as long as she could breathe.
SHE MUST HAVE fallen asleep. The lights had dimmed and momentarily she didn’t know where she was. But the controls were spread out in front of her, and she felt the stiff fabric of the captain’s chair against the back of her head.