Hutch was safely out of Allard’s view, apparently there for the sole purpose of lending moral support.
Asquith led off by describing the Salvator’s visit to the Origins Project. Marvelous concept, and all that. Very good.
“Thank you.” A modest bow. “But I know you didn’t call me at this hour to extol the virtues of the initiative.” Allard was in his sixties, with sharp features softened by a sense of absolute calm. This was not a guy who got excited. He had intelligent eyes, a wide brow, a goatee. “Isn’t the Salvator the same ship that performed the rescue at the Galactic?”
The commissioner nodded, yes, and took his opening. “Hans, your organization is involved with a project called Blueprint.”
“That is so. We’ll be running it in a few days.”
“We had a curious experience while our people were at the Surveyor museum. We think we may have made contact with aliens.”
Allard’s eyes widened slightly. “Aliens?”
“Yes. We’re pretty sure.”
Hutch shook her head no. You have to be absolute about this. It happened. We don’t think it did. But he waved her off.
“If I may ask, in what way was this contact made?”
“The details aren’t important, Hans — ”
“The details aren’t important? How can you say that, Michael?”
Asquith pressed ahead. “The aliens are concerned about Blueprint. They’ve indicated they are going to destroy Origins.”
“My God, Michael. That’s the wildest story I’ve ever heard.”
“Nevertheless, it’s so.” He kept his voice firm, and she was proud of him.
“How did it happen?”
“It happened at the museum…” He described the visitation. Mentioned the warning that moonriders were in the area. That they’d specifically mentioned Blueprint. That Amy’d had no idea what Blueprint was.
Allard resisted for a while. Rolled his eyes. Clamped jaw muscles. “When?” he said. “When are they going to do this?”
The two men stared at each other. “We don’t know when. But it seems logical they will not permit you to initiate the experiment.”
“So they are going to destroy the project within the next week or so.”
“Yes.”
“What did these aliens look like? Did they have faces?”
“There was only one of them. She looked like a young woman.”
“And this young woman said they are going to destroy Origins? No question about it?”
“Yes.”
“I take it no one else witnessed any of this?”
“No.”
“Is there any independent evidence it happened?”
“None other than what I’ve mentioned.”
“Michael, you’re aware Blueprint is not exactly a secret. It’s been in the media. This person might easily have seen it and forgotten about it. And you’ve nothing else?”
“Not at the moment, no.”
“Very good. Thank you for warning me. I shall certainly take it under advisement.”
When he was gone, Asquith sat looking dejected. “I told you.”
“Maybe,” said Hutch, “we can get him the evidence he wants.”
“You’re suggesting we send a ship out there ourselves to, what, look for rocks?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what we need to do.”
“Hutch, I really hate all this.”
“Doesn’t matter. We can’t just stand by and hope we’ve misread things.”
“Do we have a ship?”
“Not really. The Salvator is scheduled for the Moscow Affiliates Group.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. What the hell. “Cancel them.”
“This’ll be the second time, Michael. They won’t be happy.”
“Then don’t. Let it go.”
“I’ll make the calls.”
“Do it. And, Hutch? Let’s try to keep a lid on this, okay?”
SHE CALLED VALYA at home and explained.
“You need a volunteer?”
“Yes. You’re the obvious person for the assignment.”
“You want me to go to Origins and do a sweep and make sure there are no incoming.”
“Yes.”
She was in a blue robe, sipping a drink. “Okay.”
“I don’t like asking you to go out again so soon. I could get somebody else.”
“No. I’ll do it. It’s just that it seems like a waste of effort.”
“You don’t believe Amy’s story?”
She was seated behind a coffee table, on which a book lay open. “No,” she said. “Not really. I think she got hysterical. But what do I know? I wasn’t there. I’m pretty sure Eric believes her.”
“What about Mac?”
“Mac didn’t want to talk about it. I think he was afraid of hurting the kid’s feelings. Which tells me the answer to your question.” She put the glass down and leaned back. “When do I leave?”
“Can you be ready to go by Thursday?”
“You’re giving me a day off?”
“Maintenance needs time with the ship.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“One other thing, Valya. I’m trying to raid Union’s supply of air tanks. I’m going to put as many of them on board as I can get my hands on.”
“Why?”
“Worst-case scenario. In case there’s a rock inbound, and it’s too close to mount a rescue. You won’t have enough to save everybody, but you’ll be able to get a few.”
“Hutch, aren’t you overreacting a little bit?”
“Sure. And I won’t mind listening to the jokes if they’re not needed.”
The Blueprint experiment holds out hope that we may for the first time be able to start piecing together the events that led to the Big Bang. Until the construction of the Origins Project, scientists had been unable to accelerate sufficiently massive particles to achieve the desired results. Now, however, we can create black holes of an adequate size to produce, as they dissipate, sufficient levels of energy to reveal the character of the dimensions that our senses do not perceive, but which account for quantum action. In plain English, we may finally break through the ultimate singularity and discover how it all happened.
— Tuesday, May 5
VATICAN ISSUES STATEMENT REAFFIRMING
REALITY OF HELL
Pope: “Forewarned Is Forearmed”
— Los Angeles Times, May 5
chapter 34
People tend to think well of their fellow humans. We see them as, for the most part, generous, noble, brave. We admire their tenacity in desperate times, their willingness to sacrifice themselves for the common good, their kindness to those in need. These perceptions generally result from another human trait: our failure to pay attention.
— Gregory MacAllister, “Down the Slippery Slope”
Wednesday was MacAllister’s first full day home. He planned to do little except lie around. He’d held a brief morning conference with Wolfie and left him to get the current issue of The National up and running. There were several calls requesting interviews and asking him to make guest appearances. He accepted a few, agreed to do the interviews that evening, and was about to climb onto his sofa when Tilly announced a call from Jason Glock.
He’d forgotten about the Beemer trial.
“Starts tomorrow,” said Glock. He was extremely tall, a head higher than MacAllister, who checked in at over six feet. Blond hair, impeccably dressed, eyes that looked right through you.
“How do we stand, Jason?”
Glock always gave the impression everything was under control. “I’m not optimistic,” he said. “The issue clearly flies in the face of the First Amendment. People have a right to tell kids whatever they want about religion.”
“Do they have a right to push human sacrifice?”
“Of course not, Mac. But this isn’t human sacrifice. It’s just a church school.”
“I’m not sure the effect isn’t similar.”
“Whatever, we’ll never persuade a judge.”
“What are we claiming? Temporary insanity?”
“We’re going to argue that the damage done to Henry’s psyche was so severe that when he encountered the preacher he lost his judgment.”
“Why not insanity?”
“The judge wouldn’t buy it, take my word. I’ve done the research. But he is open to the argument that a justifiable anger drove our client to take matters into his own hands. He’ll still be guilty, but I think we can get clear with a minimum penalty. Probably a fine.”
“Do that, and the church schools will continue to poison kids’ minds.”
“Mac, my responsibility is to take care of my client. Not put the churches out of business.”
“What actually happened, Jason? How’d the assault take place?”
Glock was seated behind a table littered with papers. “Henry was in the store. He was waiting in line to pay for several novels, one of which was Connecticut Yankee. The Reverend Pullman came in. Beemer saw him and, after a few moments, left the line and followed the preacher to the back. There, in the self-help section, they engaged in a loud dispute that rapidly devolved into pushing and shoving. When Pullman tried to walk away, Henry took one of the books, put the others down, and went after him. The preacher heard him coming and turned just in time to get whacked with the Mark Twain.” He couldn’t restrain a laugh.
“Fortunately, there were no serious injuries. The store manager and his security officer pulled Henry away from Pullman. Pullman was visibly bruised, but he declined medical assistance. Police arrived and arrested Henry. As they dragged him out of the store he was screaming that Pullman had ruined his life.
“The guy will never be sure,” said Glock, “that he’s not going to hell.”
“What kind of person is he?” asked MacAllister. “I mean, is he violating the Commandments on a regular basis?”
The lawyer smiled. “Not as far as I can tell. Probably no more than the rest of us. But he’s lost the conviction that the Bible is literally true. And Pullman made it pretty clear during the classes what the penalty was for that.”