Asquith smiled. “I can just see the Congress saying something like that to the voters.”
“I’m not concerned about the voters. I’m not a politician.”
“You better be concerned, Hutch. The voters pay your salary.”
“That’s not significant at the moment. I was trying to make a point.”
“As was I. If it gets around that we can’t compete with these lunatics after all the money that’s been put into the program over more than sixty years, longer than that really, then when this is over, you and I will be out on the street. And deservedly so.”
It was a beautiful spring day. A bit on the warm side, maybe. Bright sun in a cloudless sky. “What are you going to tell the committee, Michael?”
“I’ll ask that they increase our funding so we can beef up the surveillance program we’ve just initiated. Track these things down. Find out what they are. What they want.”
“We’ll need ships. New ones.”
“Right. That’s what I’m going to request. And I’m going to ask for some armament. We have to confront the problem head-on.” He actually looked pained. “We need to get the Council on board. If they’re not willing, then the NAU should go it alone with our allies. Whatever it takes. It’s what they want to hear. So they’ll buy into it.”
“Okay.”
“We need to think about what kind of armament should be placed on Academy ships. I’ll want a proposal on my desk in the morning.”
“Michael, I don’t know anything about weaponry.”
“Ask somebody. Particle beams, lasers, and nukes. That’s what we’ll want. And anything else you can think of.”
ATTACK IMMINENT FROM OUTER SPACE?
Amid Laughter, World Council to Debate Options
LANBERG TAKES AMERICUS
Black Hole Physics Wins for Winnipeg Native
CHILD ABDUCTIONS UP ACROSS COUNTRY
Experts Advocate Tracking Devices
CAVALIER NEARS SURVEYOR MUSEUM
Galactic Engineers to Start Home Tomorrow
Orion Will Rebuild “Won’t Be Scared
Off by Crazies,” Says CEO
SUPERLUMINALS TO DIVERT TERRANOVA ROCK
Corporate Giants Cooperate to Save First Living World
Kosmik, MicroTech, Orion, Monogram Combine Resources
HURRICANE SEASON: MORE STORMS, MORE INTENSE
Population Decline in Hurricane Alley Continues
Dakotas, Saskatchewan, Manitoba Booming
CONGRESS: TERM LIMITS WILL NOT GET OUT OF
COMMITTEE
PROPOSAL TO BAN SMOKING IN HOMES WHEN
CHILDREN PRESENT
Iowa Bill Promises Major Clash
What Are the Limits of Government?
TREATMENT OF LIVESTOCK BECOMES ISSUE IN
WYOMING
Do Steers Have Rights?
Energy Relay Collapses
City in Dark for Six Hours
LOOKING BACK: LAST NUCLEAR PLANT CLOSED 100
YEARS AGO TODAY
HELLFIRE TRIAL TO GET NATIONAL COVERAGE
Starts Thursday
chapter 33
Truth, beaten down, may well rise again. But there’s a reason it gets beaten down. Usually, we don’t like it very much.
— Gregory MacAllister, “Why We All Love Sweden”
When the Salvator docked at Union, officials, journalists, and well-wishers were waiting. Valya and her passengers strode out of the exit tube and were greeted by shouts and applause. Amy spotted her father in the crowd. With Hutch beside him. He waved and pushed through. “Good to see you, Hon,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. Everybody was taking pictures. “Glad you’re home. I was worried.”
“I’m fine, Dad,” she said. “It was a good flight.” That sounded dumb, but she didn’t know what else to say.
People began tossing questions at her. There was confusion; some of them thought she’d been with Valya during the rescue at the Galactic. When they discovered she’d stayed behind in the museum, they went elsewhere.
Eventually Hutch worked her way to her side. “Hey, Champ,” she said, “welcome home. You guys had quite a time out there.”
She moved to embrace the girl, but Amy stiffened. Allowed it to happen but didn’t respond. Hutch was too much like the woman on the bridge.
Hutch got the message and let go. “Anything wrong, Amy?”
Amy needed to talk to her alone, but that would be difficult to manage. She wondered whether the others had told her what had happened. Kid’s gone funny in the head. Talking to people who aren’t there. Talking to you, Hutch.
“I’m fine.” She knew. Amy could tell.
The event morphed into a press conference. How had MacAllister felt when he saw the asteroid hit the hotel? Had he been worried the moonriders might go after him? Would he be likely to support —?
MacAllister cut the last question short. He’d grown quickly impatient with the questions, and pointed everybody at Valya. “Here’s the young lady who did the rescue,” he said. “She’s the one you want to talk to.” And Amy caught his whispered aside to the pilot: “Good luck.”
Valya answered a few questions and quickly turned the proceedings over to Eric, who was experienced at these things. Who was nearly delirious at being the center of attention.
Was it true moonriders were detected near the museum? Had they seen them? (Disappointment that no one had.) “Did you at any time feel your life was in danger?”
“No,” Eric said. “We kept the doors locked.” He expected the comment to get a laugh. But none came. “I don’t think any of us ever felt directly threatened.” He looked around for confirmation, and got it from MacAllister and Valya. It wasn’t what the media wanted to hear.
A short, bearded man, dressed as if he represented the underground press, asked whether they thought we should arm the ships.
“Yes,” said Eric. “Absolutely.” They’d seen the people trooping in from the Galactic, especially that last bunch, the ones who’d been thrown into space for several hours. “Whatever these things are, they have no regard for human life.”
Jessica Dailey from the Black Cat wanted to know whether Eric spoke for everybody.
“He does for me,” said Valya.
“What about you, Mr. MacAllister?”
“I guess so,” MacAllister said grudgingly. He looked uncertain.
Nobody asked Amy.
THE JOURNALISTS FOLLOWED them onto the shuttle, where there were more questions and more pictures. Amy finally got her turn in the spotlight. How would it feel going back to school now that she was a national celebrity? That surprised her so thoroughly that she could only smile and ask when she’d become a celebrity.
More people were waiting in the terminal at Reagan. A beautiful chestnut-haired woman threw herself into MacAllister’s arms. (Amy saw a strange look in Valya’s eyes, but it passed quickly, and the pilot turned away.) One of the journalists drew her father aside, and she saw her chance. Hutch was standing only a few feet away, talking with Eric.
The conversation broke off when she approached. Hutch offered to give her a hand with her bag.
“It’s okay,” Amy said. “I need to talk to you.” Eric discovered he had something else to do and left them.
A news team was headed their way. Hutch nodded. “I know. But this is not a good time. Call me tonight.”
“Okay.”
“And, Amy —?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever it’s about, we’ll take care of it.”
AMY WAS NOT close to her father, even though he always tried to do the right thing. When she performed in the school theater, he was there. He came faithfully to watch her play softball. He talked to her about homework and her future and did everything he could to replace the mother who’d abandoned them both so many years before. But he’d never learned to listen. Their conversations were always one-way. So when she came home from the Surveyor museum with a story no one would believe, she did not sit down with him and tell him what had happened.
Other than Hutch, there was no one to whom she could turn. She had a couple of indifferent boyfriends, but neither would be able to understand what she was talking about. They’d both think she’d taken something. And there was a math teacher who was reasonable and sympathetic, but who was far too rational to believe a story like hers.
She had shed whatever doubts she might have had about the reality of the experience. The image of the ultratall Hutch walking out of the darkness, issuing that deadly warning, was simply too vivid. It had happened.
Damn moonriders.
Why had they picked on her in the first place? They had the Academy’s public information officer available, and the editor of The National. But the blockheads came to her. What was she supposed to do? Pass it on to the principal?
She rode home alone. Her father claimed important Senate business and put her in a taxi. Fifteen minutes later she was in her Georgetown town house replaying the experience over and over.
She became gradually aware of the silence, accented somehow by voices outside. And a barking dog.
She switched on the VR. Brought up Tangle, her favorite show. Find your way through the maze. Don’t get distracted by boys, clothing displays, misnomers, false trails. But she couldn’t keep her mind on it, and finally realized she might be on the news. She switched over and saw trouble in Central Africa. A serial killer loose in Oregon, imitating the murders done in Relentless, a popular vid from the year before. There seemed to be no end to homicidal kooks. A Senate committee was conducting hearings on whether to support the creation of an armed interstellar fleet. It would be the world’s first space navy. Then, yes! There she was. Standing off to one side at Union while Eric answered questions.
Well, tonight she’d talk to Hutch and pass the whole thing over to her. She was the big hero. Let her worry about it.
ERIC WAS HAPPY to be home. And pleased with himself. During the taxi ride from Reagan, he’d also watched himself on the news shows and decided he’d looked pretty good. Self-effacing, heroic, and always ready with a punch line. The real Eric Samuels had arrived at last.