“Yes.”
“What reason did he give you?”
“He said something about wanting to provide a surprise for a group of tourists.”
“And that made sense to you?”
“No. Of course not.”
“But you didn’t ask too many questions.”
“No.”
“Was it a generous payment?”
“Not for what I’m going through now, no.”
“Okay.”
“Can you keep my name out of it?”
“No. I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Give me the details, and I promise the story will not be unsympathetic. I doubt you’ll need to worry about formal charges.”
“You don’t understand. My reputation will be ruined, Mr. MacAllister. It’ll be the end of my career.” She looked desperate.
“I’m sorry,” MacAllister said. “I have no control over that.”
He’d already written the story. When he got off the circuit, he brought it up again on-screen, made a few minor changes, and wrote in the title: “The Capella Hoax: Orion Tours Invents a Few Moonriders.”
He had no doubt that, by the time the investigation ended, there’d be conspiracy indictments against half a dozen major corporations. He read through it one more time. Satisfied, he forwarded a copy to Dryden, inviting him to comment.
Then he called Hutch. She was in another meeting, so he left the information with her AI.
MACALLISTER ALWAYS READ himself to sleep. That evening he was starting an exposé of government waste and corruption titled The Last Honest Man. He had not yet finished the introduction when Tilly informed him he had a call. “Dryden?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
MacAllister put on a robe and went into his study. Dryden’s image was standing waiting for him. The man was absolutely white. “What do you mean by this, MacAllister?” he demanded, struggling to keep his temper. He waved a few sheets of paper in the air. But his hand trembled. “If you print any of this, I’ll sue. I’ll end up owning The National.”
“Is that your comment?” MacAllister asked in a level voice.
“So help me — ”
“Okay. We’ll be locking it down tomorrow. You want to respond, you have until six P.M. to get it to me. Good night.”
MacAllister signaled Tilly to close the circuit. “He’ll call back,” he said. “Tell him to put it in writing. I don’t want to be bothered.”
The Origins Project is simultaneously the most ambitious scientific and engineering operation in history. The discoveries that await can, at this time, only be the subject of speculation. It’s painful to realize that no one in my generation will live to see its completion.
— Paul Allard, The New York Times, Friday, May 8
chapter 37
Lies hold civilization together. If people ever seriously begin telling each other what they really think, there’d be no peace. Good-bye to tact. Good-bye to being polite. Good-bye to showing tolerance for other people’s buffooneries. The fact that we claim to admire Truth is probably the biggest lie of all. But that’s part of the charade, part of what makes us human, and we do not even think about it. In effect, we lie to ourselves. Lies are only despicable when they betray a trust.
— Gregory MacAllister, Life and Times
Hutch watched the transmission from MacAllister with mounting anger. Valya had betrayed them all. Delesandro’s admission clinched it.
It explained why Asquith had been so insistent that Valya pilot the mission. “Marla,” she said, “get the commissioner for me.”
How much was true and how much concocted? Was any of it true?
“Hutch, the commissioner’s office reports he’s away on personal business. Unavailable until Monday. Myers is acting.” The personnel officer.
It was of course just like him. Anything blows up, somebody else takes the fall. The rescue fleet Hutch had cobbled together was on the way. Nine ships in all, plus the Salvator. If she’d been misled also about the projected attack on Origins, as her instincts told her she surely was, she was going to look extraordinarily foolish, as would the Academy. The media would have a field day with her. Furthermore, her actions would play directly into the hands of Taylor and the others who were trying to squeeze the organization. She’d been less rattled when she’d been blundering through the clouds over Maleiva III.
It put her in the curious position of hoping for a catastrophe. It was not something she was quite ready to admit to herself, let alone anybody else. But there it was. And with it came an overwhelming sense of guilt. That she was prepared to see people put at risk to be proven right.
Marla broke into her thoughts. “There’s an incoming transmission from the Salvator.”
She was trembling with rage. “Put it up, Marla,” she said. “Let’s see what the bitch has to say.”
Valentina’s image appeared, seated on the bridge. She was wearing the light and dark blue Academy jumpsuit. Not for much longer, though.
“We’ve made the transition into Origins space,” Valya said. “Preliminary long-range scan indicates negative results, but we’re still a long way out. Anticipate arrival at the facility in six hours.”
A few minutes later she was back with more: “I’ve talked with the East and West Towers, and they report nothing unusual.”
Hutch froze the image. Valentina had been a trusted Academy pilot for fifteen years. She wondered how it had happened. Had she been bought? Or had she done this out of some misplaced idealism? Not that it mattered.
She wondered briefly if she would herself have been tempted to rig the game to save the Academy. It was a thought she quickly thrust aside.
“I’ll keep you updated. Salvator out.”
Out was the operative word.
Valya and Hutch had never been close, had never been on an extended operation together. But Hutch had come to respect her. She’d fire the woman, of course. The only question was whether she should also prosecute. She’d have preferred to let everything ride until the Salvator returned. Then deal with it face-to-face. But MacAllister knew, and Dryden knew, so it was going to be getting around, and she had no doubt one or the other would be in touch with her, Dryden to tell her to look out, MacAllister to vent his rage at being lied to.
“Marla,” she said, “message for the Salvator.”
“When ready.”
“Routine precedence. Captain’s eyes only.”
“Very good.”
She sat for several moments, collecting her thoughts. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to terminate someone, but it had never before felt so personal. “Valya,” she said. “I would have preferred to do this here. You’ll probably be getting a message from the people at Orion, and I thought you should hear it first from me. We know what happened at Terranova, and at the Galactic.
“We haven’t accounted for Amy’s experience. If you can shed light on that, if you know beyond question that’s another hoax, then let’s just forget this pony ride. Turn around and come home.
“If you don’t have an explanation for what happened to her, stay on-station at Origins until we can relieve you. You’re of course aware that, if an attack is coming, we have no idea what form it may take.”
She wanted to say more, to express her sense of betrayal and outrage, but putting it into a transmission where she couldn’t see a reaction just didn’t give her the satisfaction she wanted.
chapter 38
Truth is slippery, not because it is difficult to grasp, but because we prefer our preconceptions, our beliefs, our myths. It’s why nations are so often surprised by people like Napoleon and Hitler and Guagameil. Why individuals still buy natural cures for arteriosclerosis. Why we hire door-to-door guys to fix the roof.