The long tradition in physics, of course, was that you did your breakthrough work, if there was going to be any, during your first ten years. Otherwise, you could forget it. And there was no place more on the cutting edge than the Origins Project. Kleigmann looked proud when they talked about it. “The top people on the planet are out here,” he said. Then his eyes grew distant. “I hate to think what we’ve already lost in the other tower. There were a lot of good kids over there.”
Estevan made it a point to stay out of her office. She patrolled the corridors, took over a table in one of the larger conference rooms, stayed where she could be seen. She laughed and talked as if nothing unusual were happening. Meantime, crowds stayed close to Murillo’s displays.
Eric was also showing a side Valya hadn’t seen before. “I’ve spent too many Saturday nights at home,” he said. “Did you know I’m almost forty?” It seemed an odd comment until she thought about it.
Actually, she’d have guessed he was a few years older. “Is there a woman in your life, Eric?”
“Not really,” he said. “Maybe one. Jeri Makaiya. But I’ve never been out with her. Never asked her out.”
“Why not?”
“She works for me. It’s not smart. Romantic entanglements in the office. In fact, they’ve got a rule against anything like that between supervisors and subordinates.”
They were down under an hour, sitting at a table in the cafeteria, next door to the conference room where Estevan was holding court. “That can be a problem,” Valya said. “There are other women. I’d think you would make a pretty nice catch, Eric.”
He smiled shyly. “Thanks.” Then: “She’s the one I really like.”
“Then break the rule.”
He shook his head. Can’t do that.
“You have to decide what’s important. If she matters, you can’t just walk away. If you do, twenty years from now you’ll still regret it.” Being at leisure in a place you know is about to be blown apart has a curious effect. Valya found herself reviewing her own life, thinking about the good times, old friends who had gotten lost along the way, moments when she might have chosen another path. There wasn’t much she regretted, almost nothing she’d have done differently. Maybe Terranova. (Her feeling about that kept changing.) Maybe Jamie Clemens, whom she’d once loved. Still loved. But she’d walked out of his life and later changed her mind, but by then he was angry or taken. She was never sure which.
And now there was Mac.
What a rollicking, hard-nosed, unpredictable son of a bitch he was. She’d never known anyone remotely like him. Were all journalists like that? She knew he’d be resentful, would make her pay a price for her deceit. But she thought she could repair the damage, could hang on to him. When she got back she’d go see him. And she’d do what she had to.
Meantime, it was getting late. “Time to load our passengers, Eric.”
Her commlink vibrated. It was Bill.
“We have a transmission from the Granville,” he said.
“Let’s hear it, Bill.” Pray for good news.
“Salvator.” The voice sounded French. “We have just made our jump. Did not get as close as we’d hoped. But we are on our way and will be there in three hours.”
Her heart sank. Eric stared at her. “What?”
“Two hours late.” Granville was their bus. She acknowledged, and did the numbers again: WhiteStar II could take five. Seven with the air tanks they should have on board.
That would leave what?
Eleven.
Valya has been magnificent. She helped Estevan pull herself together, and has managed to convince everyone by her quiet, cool confidence that they’re all going to get home okay.
But she informed me just minutes ago that the Granville won’t be here in time. She’s in now giving Estevan the bad news. I don’t envy her, going through all this. And the ironic part of it is that she knows she’s been terminated.
— Sunday, May 10
chapter 42
We are at heart a cowardly species. But that’s good. Fear is a reflex installed to keep us alive. But sometimes the fittings come loose. When that happens, and the victims routinely defy their instincts to clear out, they often do not live to reproduce. Considering the probabilities, it’s hard to understand why courage has not been bred completely out of us.
— Gregory MacAllister, Life and Times
Terri Estevan was crushed by the news. “Is there no chance?” she asked in a trembling voice. “None at all? Maybe one of the ships will get lucky, and jump into a favorable position. Like the WhiteStar.”
“It’s possible,” said Valya. “But it’s unlikely.”
“All right.” They were alone. Valya had emptied the room before telling her.
For a long minute neither spoke. Estevan collapsed into a chair and fought to stifle a sob.
Valya did not know what to say. It was, after all, Estevan and ten of her associates who were going to be stuck there when the moonriders arrived. Valya would be well on her way out of town. There was no way she could offer consolation. “We’ll take everyone who has a breather,” she said. “Better not wait for the WhiteStar.”
“Can you do that? Is there room?”
“We’ll make room.”
SHE RECALLED HER staff.
Kleigmann. Angie. Julie Halper. Santos. And Ho Smith.
They knew as soon as they came back into the room that something was terribly wrong. Estevan stared past them. “The Granville’s not going to make it,” she said.
Kleigmann’s expression turned stony. Angie bowed her head and her lips began to quiver. Julie sagged against a table. Santos murmured a prayer. Ho found a bottle somewhere and poured himself a drink, tossed it back, then offered the bottle around.
Estevan braced herself. Took a deep breath. “I will stay, of course. I’m sorry, but I must ask you, each of you, to join me.”
“Maybe they won’t attack right away,” said Julie.
“It’s possible,” said Valya. “They took their time at the East Tower.”
“I’ll stay with you,” said Angie.
Kleigmann nodded. Yes.
“What happens,” said Santos, “if I say no?”
“I don’t know.” Estevan wiped tears out of her eyes. “I honestly don’t know what to do.”
“Me, too,” said Julie. “I’ll stay.”
“I don’t want to do this,” said Santos. “I didn’t sign on for anything like this.”
“I know,” she said. “But we’re department heads.” She said it the way she might have said warriors. Or, thought Valya, Spartans. “We can’t ask others to stay behind if we clear out.”
“We ought to be able to squeeze a few more people into the Salvator.”
“Life support is already overloaded,” said Valya. “It won’t take any more.”
“I’ll stay,” said Ho. He looked as if he were in pain.
Santos shook his head. “I’m not going to do it.”
“You don’t really have a choice,” said Kleigmann. “What are you going to do? Go out there and take a breather from one of your subordinates?”
Santos’s eyes slid shut. His lips were pressed tight together, and his face was a study in agony.
Unless the WhiteStar arrived quickly, seven more would have to stay.
Estevan caught Valya’s eye. “Better get the Salvator loaded and moving.” She got to her feet. “I better go tell every body.”
Valya had been looking for an opportunity to exit, and that was it. “You’re right,” she said. “I better get going.”
They all looked at her. How weak had that sounded?
Estevan got up. Shook her hand. Embraced her. “Thanks for everything you’ve done.”