“Okay. Just give me a minute more, and I’ll get out of your way. Are they going to find something?”
“That’s not the purpose of the mission. They’re just going to be distributing monitors.”
“These recent encounters, the ones that haven’t been made public, can you describe some of them for me?”
“I’m just not free to do that, Mac.”
“You’re not a good liar, Hutch.” She stood quietly watching him, not reacting. And he knew exactly what she was up to. “If I were to ask to go along, you’d make room for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Reluctantly.”
“Reluctantly, hell. You want me to make the flight. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”
She sighed. “You got me.”
“Why?”
“Mac, we’re hoping to use the flight to create some public interest. Get people excited about the work we do.”
“I see. And you thought if I went along — ”
“The story would get bigger.”
“Why didn’t you just ask?”
“I didn’t think you’d do it.”
“Try me.”
She softened. Smiled. “Mac, it’s not as much fun that way.”
“You wanted to fox me, didn’t you?”
“I thought you’d have enjoyed the flight. You get a cabin to yourself and a tour of some of the loveliest places in the area.”
In fact, the mission might provide some material for Dark Mirror. At the very least, he saw no problem with giving the Academy space in The National. He expected, though, that she wouldn’t care for the result. “You still haven’t asked if I would go.”
“Mac, would you go? Do it for me?”
“Sure,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
The Martha Kingston Foundation, which donates millions every year for scientific research in a wide range of fields, today announced that Charles Dryden, an executive with Orion Tours, will receive this year’s coveted Kingston Prize, awarded annually to their most successful fund-raiser.
Mr. Dryden is a product of the University of Kansas. He started his career as a political aide….
Henry Beemer, charged with attacking a preacher in a bookstore last week, has been increasingly depressed and quarrelsome, according to coworkers and friends….
— Derby (North Carolina) Star, Tuesday, February 24
chapter 15
There was a time when you could retreat from the mass of humanity simply by moving into the forest, or heading for an island. Then it became the back side of the moon. With the development of FTL, nowhere is safe. If history is a guide, we will not stop until every green patch in the Milky Way has a squatter.
— Gregory MacAllister, “Slower Than Light Is Fast Enough for Me”
Hutch’s exchange with MacAllister left her in a glorious mood. She had never thought of simply coming out and asking. Well, she had, but it would have seemed too much like an imposition, so she’d not seriously considered it.
She had not been exaggerating when she’d told him she was busy. A stack of documents a foot high waited on her desk, and a group of Israeli astrophysicists was due in the building at any moment.
“Hutch,” said the AI, “Amy Taylor is trying to reach you.”
Amy? “Put her through, Marla.”
The teenager wore khaki shorts and a University of Virginia pullover. She flashed a smile that was at once innocent, shy, and calculating. “Hi, Hutch,” she said. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all, Amy. I’m a little rushed at the moment. But what can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to know if I could come over sometime and you could maybe show me around the Academy? If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Sure. When did you want to come?”
She was trying to say something else. Hutch waited while she found the words. “Hutch, the truth is, I’d love to go on an Academy mission. Go somewhere nobody’s ever been before.”
“Amy, those flights tend to be long ones. You’d be away a few months. I’m not sure that would work.”
Amy nodded. “You don’t have anything close by? I know we haven’t gone everywhere around here.”
“There are a lot of places that are only a couple of days out that we haven’t bothered with, Amy. But usually there’s a reason.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “I just thought I’d ask.”
“There are tours.”
“I don’t think it would be the same. Anyhow, my father wouldn’t approve.”
“If he wouldn’t approve of a tour flight, why would you think he’d go along with something more exotic?”
“A flight in an Academy ship? How often does that come along? He might see a political advantage to it.”
The girl’s explanation sounded reasonable. “I’ll take a look around, Amy. See if we have anything.”
SHE WAS NEVER sure when the possibility first occurred to her to offer Amy a berth on the Salvator. Later, recalling the sequence of events, she thought she’d been toying with the idea before the call came in. The more she thought about it, the more promising it seemed. She’d only be gone a few weeks. There would be, for a teenager, a certain cachet about the mission. The ship’s AI could handle her schooling. She’d be in good company, and the trip would be something she’d remember for a lifetime.
She put through a call to the senator. He got back to her late that afternoon from his office. “Hello, Hutch,” he said. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“Senator, we have a flight going out in early April — ”
“The moonrider flight — ”
“I don’t guess we’ve had much luck keeping it quiet.”
“The commissioner mentioned it to me.” He shook his head. “These are crazy times we live in.”
“Yes, they are.”
“I hope you find something. It would be nice to know whether there’s anything to these stories.”
“I doubt there is,” she said.
“I take it this is Michael’s idea.”
“Pretty much.”
His standard smile widened. Became genuine. “He claimed you were behind it.”
“Ah,” she said. “He likes to give credit to the help.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He held up a hand to stall the conversation, exchanged comments with someone at the other end, then turned back to her. “Sorry, Hutch. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Senator, I was thinking we might do something nice for Amy.”
“That’s very generous.” He looked wary. “What did you have in mind?”
“She’s mentioned that she’d enjoy making an Academy flight. Most of the missions go too far. They’re out too long. But the Salvator, which is doing the moonrider flight, is just going to be making a tour of local star systems. Anyhow, we have space if you’d approve, and I thought it would be something she’d enjoy.”
Taylor looked reluctant. “I don’t know,” he said.
“She’d get to see the Origins Project. And the Galactic Hotel at Capella, and the Hightower Museum. And Terranova, and — ”
“Hold on, Hutch. That sounds good. But I’m not comfortable having her away from school that long.”
“Once-in-a-lifetime experience, Senator.”
“Also, I’m not sure I can accept this kind of favor.”
“That’s a call you’d have to make, sir.”
“Yes. Hutch, let me get back to you.”
It took less than twenty-four hours. Hutch got a call from an excited Amy the next morning minutes after she’d arrived in her office. “Hutch,” she said, “thank you.”
CLEARY’S WAS A small, posh coffee shop overlooking the Retreat, the alien habitat that had been disassembled and transported from the Twins and reconstructed on the banks of the Potomac in Pentagon Park. It was midmorning, and Hutch was sitting at a corner table snacking on coffee and bagels when Valya walked in.
The Greek pilot scanned the interior, spotted her, and came over. “Hi,” Valya said. “Sorry I’m late. I lost track of the time.” She was wearing a flowery yellow blouse and gray plaid slacks. “What’s up?”
The moonrider flight was a mission to nowhere. Oddly, though, Hutch was beginning to regret she wouldn’t be on the bridge. “Not much. We’re losing missions left and right.”
“So I hear.” Valya had soloed with Hutch. It had been her qualifying flight. “The bagels look good.” She collected one from the counter and sat down. Fresh coffee came. She smeared grape jelly on the bagel and took a bite. “Well,” she said, “I hear we’re going out looking for gremlins.”
“Moonriders,” Hutch corrected gently. “The mission’s scheduled to leave April second.”
“Sounds intriguing.”
“I understand you’d like the assignment.”
“Yes, I’d be interested in doing it.” She tried the coffee. “Truth is, with what’s happening to the missions, I was afraid I’d be grounded for a while.”
“If there are any other flights that interest you — ”
“Yes?”
“Talk to me first. Don’t go over my head again.”
“Hutch,” she said, “that’s not the way it was — ”
“However it was, don’t do it again.”
“Okay.” She lowered the cup slowly onto the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to create a problem.” For a long moment neither spoke. Then: “What’s going to happen? Are they going to shut down the Academy?”
“I don’t think they’re that dumb.”
“You don’t sound hopeful.”
Hutch shrugged. “I just don’t know.” Valya shared her passion for the Academy. She recalled their brief time together on the Catherine Perth with a sense of pride. It was a time when the Academy was sending missions in all directions, when people still talked about finding what they called a sister civilization. Someone we could talk to. Compare experiences with. The term had fallen into disuse in recent years. And the hunt for the sister civilization had by and large been replaced by teams that went out to inspect stars, to measure their characteristics, and to place them in categories. Necessary work, she supposed, from the point of view of astrophysicists, but boring to the general public. The imagination and the electricity had gone out of starflight, had drained away like a receding tide. And now the Academy wondered why Congress was talking about cutting its subsidy once again. Maybe Michael was right. Maybe the only real course they had was to take a chance, go with a shot in the dark, and hope the Salvator found something. Hope the ship turned out to be appropriately named.