“Maybe Hutch.”
“Hutch? Who’s he?”
“Hutch is a she. She’s the one who arranged for me to come out here.”
“Okay. Don’t worry about these guys anymore. They have their minds made up. When you get the chance, talk to this Hutch.”
“You really think she’ll believe me?”
“You persuaded me, Amy.”
THE MUSEUM WAS much easier to take since the additional people had arrived. That was an unusual reaction for MacAllister. He generally preferred to be left alone. But in that place noise and company were a distinct improvement. A supply of beer and liquor showed up from somewhere. Several played horns and stringed instruments. By midday Monday a serious party was under way.
Valya called late Tuesday evening to announce she was back in Arcturus space.
He was glad to be able to talk with her again. Even though it meant dealing with the delays caused by her distance from the museum. He got on the circuit and said hello. Commented that the people from the Galactic had made themselves at home. Told her that the Cavalier was on its way. Everything’s good here.
Her image froze while the signal traveled out, and, several minutes later, the response came back. “Mac, I’m glad everything’s well,” she said. “Sounds as if you’re having a good time.” He was in the souvenir shop with the door closed. The party had died down, and most of the people were off somewhere watching a horror sim. But there was still a fair amount of singing coming through the thin walls. “No problems of any kind?”
That was code for Amy. Valya had no way of knowing who’d be with him when the transmission came in.
“No,” he said. “She seems to have gotten past it.” He found a chair and sat down. “This is a hell of a way to hold a conversation. You say something, go get a coffee, do some reading.”
He sent the transmission and went outside, picked up his notebook, brought it in, called up the latest news reports, and looked through them.
Eventually, her image came back to life. “It’s because you don’t do it often enough, Mac,” she said. “You need to get out more.”
“I’m certainly out now,” he said. “Really out. Anyhow, we missed you.”
“I’m sure. Nobody to fight with. No sign of the moonriders?”
“No. They never showed up. How many people are still back at the hotel?”
“I don’t think Hugo’s gotten there yet. After he picks up his load, there’ll be four. The asteroid may show up before I can get back. So the plan is that when it gets close, they’ll use one of the shuttles and clear out. I’ll get them from the shuttle.”
“Have you seen the asteroid?”
“Yes. It’s pretty big.”
“Listen, Valya. You’re obviously going to be leaving here as soon as you drop off your passengers. We talked about my going back with you. I want to do that. I’ll be ready to go when you dock.”
She looked pleased. “Good. I could use the company.”
THE SALVATOR ARRIVED just before midnight. Several of the construction workers stayed up to greet their colleagues. Valya was last to come through the connecting tube. She waved at MacAllister, started in his direction, but saw Amy in the passageway. She signaled MacAllister to be patient, strolled over, and took the girl aside.
The conversation was short. It looked amicable enough, but it had no animation. Valya was asking questions, Amy shook her head yes and no, but the responses seemed abbreviated. Of course it was understandable. It was extremely late, but Amy had insisted on staying up to wait for the Salvator. Or maybe just on staying up.
Eventually Valya nodded, gave the girl’s shoulder a squeeze, and came away.
“I just don’t know what to think about it,” she told MacAllister. Then her eyes refocused, and she surprised him with an embrace. “It’s good to see you again, Mac.”
“You, too. Is she okay?”
“You tell me.” She took a deep breath and looked at the time. “Got your toothbrush?”
A few minutes later she hustled him through the airlock into the Salvator and onto the bridge. “The air’s bad,” he said. It didn’t so much smell bad, as that it felt oppressive. Stuffy.
“We had too many people crammed in here,” she said. “We’re supposed to have a seven-passenger capacity. Just give it a little time, and it’ll clear.” She ran quickly through her checklist, gave some instructions to Bill, and virtually pushed MacAllister into the right-hand seat. She sat down beside him, secured the harnesses, and asked if he was ready to go while simultaneously shutting off the magnets that secured the Salvator to the dock. Then they were under way.
“Yes,” he said. “Anytime you’re ready.”
She laughed. It was a sound he enjoyed hearing. Damned women. Nature makes fools of us all. Valya told Bill to set course for Capella, then pushed back and exhaled. “I’ll be glad to get this over.”
MacAllister nodded as the image of the museum in the navigation monitor shrank. “What did she say when you talked with her?”
“Amy? She pretty much invited me to go away. Did it politely, but that was the message. What did you guys do? Tell her it was her imagination?”
MacAllister decided he would never understand women. “It was her imagination.”
“Of course,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you tell her that.”
“What would you have done?”
“Just listened. Agreed that it was a scary experience. She’s the one who has to decide it didn’t really happen.”
“She wanted us to tell her what to do.”
“And you did. Orea takanes. Now she knows exactly how to handle things.” She tried to shake it off. “I’m sorry. It really wasn’t your fault.”
Right. Men are naturally slow-witted. “You’re a sexist,” he said quietly.
“Oh, Mac, you just see right through me, don’t you?” Her eyes grew serious. “The museum must have been a little scary at night. You shouldn’t have let her wander around in there by herself.” She shook her head. “No wonder she started seeing things.”
“Valya, she’s sixteen. I don’t think she wanted us following her around.”
“She’s fifteen. And she’s still a kid.” She patted his arm. “It’s all right, Mac. You meant well.”
It was the sort of comment he often made about politicians and bishops.
They were both dead tired. They went back to the common room, where Bill provided some cheese and pineapple juice. It tasted okay, but it wasn’t exactly elegant. Valya fell asleep in her chair with the snack untouched.
MacAllister was seated opposite her. He dimmed the lights, and she looked almost ethereal, her head resting on the back of the chair, red hair framing finely chiseled features, one arm in her lap, the other resting on a side table beside her juice.
He returned to his quarters, found a quilt, brought it out, and draped it over her.
He went back to his chair, killed the lights altogether, closed his eyes, and sat listening to her breathe.
Yes, my dear, alone with you at last.
SHE WOKE HIM. “Mac, you need to get into your harness. We’ll be making our jump in a few minutes.”
The daylight illumination was on. He checked the time. It was almost ten.
“It’ll be a twenty-two-hour run to the Capella system,” she said. “Which puts us in there at about 0800 Thursday.”
“When does the asteroid arrive?”
“Just after ten.”
“That gives us plenty of time to get them off, doesn’t it?”
“It would if the jump took us in close,” she said. “But we’ll be lucky to get within three hours. No, safest is to stick with Plan A: Assume the rock will get there first. They’ll use a shuttle to get out of harm’s way.”
He followed her onto the bridge, took his seat, and activated the harness. He’d already begun imagining how the story would appear in the media. Prominent Editor Rides to Rescue.
MacAllister Saves Four in Race with Asteroid.
MacAllister Wins Americus for First-Person Account of Galactic Ordeal.
“It’d be nice,” he said, “if we could get there before the asteroid. Take them directly off the gridwork.”
She’d started the countdown with Bill. “Why?”
“Makes a better story.”
“If we didn’t get there in time, which we probably wouldn’t, there’s a good chance they’d be killed.”
MacAllister grinned. “That would be a good story, too.”
She leaned over and whacked him, and they both laughed. “But you’re not really kidding, are you?”
“Not entirely,” he said. “If we were late, they could still get clear, right? I mean, they’ve got the shuttle.”
“Forget it, Mac. The asteroid’s as big as a sizable chunk of Arizona.”
“One minute,” said Bill.
THE SALVATOR SLIPPED into the transdimensional mists, and so did the conversation. They retreated to the common room and talked about MacAllister’s journalistic passions and why Valya enjoyed piloting interstellars and would consider no other line of work. Why MacAllister liked giving trouble to people who, he argued, needed to be kept in line. Why Valya enjoyed solitude. “Most people only talk about themselves,” she said. “Which would be okay if they had some imagination. But I get tired listening to stories about spouses who don’t understand, or incomprehensible physics experiments, or what sims they watched recently. It’s empty chatter and, if you’re not careful, it can crowd you out of your life. Up here it’s quiet, and you’re alone with yourself.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“For what?”
“For taking me along.”
“Mac,” she said, “you have your problems, but you do make for entertaining flights.”
He sat quietly, enjoying the moment. “You know, Valya, when we get home, I’d like to take you over to the Seahawk.”
“The Seahawk?”
Everybody in Arlington knew the Seahawk. But he played her game. “Nicest club on the Potomac,” he said.
“Oh, yes. I have heard of it.” She looked out at the mist. “Yes, that would be nice.” Her eyes brushed over him, came back, locked. She was making up her mind about something.
“You don’t think very highly of men, do you, Valya?”
“They’re okay. Some of them.”