“I’m not upset.” She dumped maple syrup on the pancakes. “Mac, think how you’d feel if you told me something important, and I wouldn’t believe you.”
WHEN THEY’D FINISHED, Eric and Mac retreated into the welcome center, while Amy stayed in the snack bar. Mac opened his notebook, and Eric dropped into a chair, closed his eyes, and let his head drift back. He didn’t know what to do. But sitting there pretending the problem would go away was only going to increase the tension.
He got up wearily and went back into the snack bar. She’d barely touched her food. “Hi,” he said.
She looked up. “Hi.”
“Can we talk?”
“Sure.”
He sat down beside her. “It has nothing to do with you,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not that we believe you’d lie to us. We both know you wouldn’t do that. But sometimes people see things that aren’t really there. What you’re asking us to believe isn’t necessarily impossible, but it flies in the face of common sense.”
“I know.”
“If either of us told you the same story, would you believe it?”
She thought about it. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Be honest.”
“Probably not.”
“Okay. There’s an old saying: Extraordinary assertions require extraordinary proof.” She sat quietly watching him. “If you want people to believe you’ve seen a moonrider, for example, you have to be able to walk it into the room. Let us ask it some questions. Maybe do an inspection to make sure it’s not the AI run amok. Even then I probably won’t buy the story. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” she said. “I understand.”
“It’s far more likely that what you saw last night resulted from a bit too much excitement, or from being alone in a strange place, or from too many french fries, or maybe all three, than that there was actually a visitation.”
She cut out a piece of the pancakes, looked at it, exhaled, and put it in her mouth.
“It might actually have happened. I’m not saying it didn’t. What I am saying is that—”
“I know what you’re saying, Eric.”
“Okay. Good.”
“But if I am right, and I can’t get anyone to believe me, a lot of people are going to die.”
“I hear you.” He couldn’t think of an answer for that one. “Why don’t we just take some time and walk around a bit? Go sightseeing. Maybe it’ll clear our heads.”
He was hoping it would clear hers. She was still angry. And scared. No way she could not be. But he didn’t want her to sit and just sulk for the rest of the day.
SHE TRIED TO concentrate on the pictures and exhibits. There was a portrait of Hightower’s wife receiving the posthumous commendation awarded her husband by the World Science Foundation. And another depicting the launching of the Surveyor, silhouetted against Luna. You could sit and talk with Hightower’s avatar, or with other members of the crew or the researchers. You could re-create the launch, complete with contemporary media coverage. Or watch the Surveyor cruising in low orbit over Beta Centauri III.
When they returned to the welcome center, shortly before noon, Mac still had his nose in his notebook. He looked up as they entered. “You guys really made a morning of it. I was getting ready to send in the marines.”
Eric described what they’d been doing and recommended he take some time himself to look around the place.
Amy positioned herself so she could see over Mac’s shoulder. “Doing an article for The National?” she asked.
“Not really,” he said. “There’s nothing newsworthy here. The story’s over at the Galactic.”
Amy felt a rush of warmth in her cheeks. But she said nothing.
Eric picked his bedding up off the floor and tossed it across a chair. “She’ll probably be able to take you on the second flight, Mac,” he said.
“Maybe.”
Amy was still standing behind him. “Want to know a secret, Mac?”
“Sure, kid.”
“I think she likes you.”
He laughed. “Everybody likes your uncle Mac.”
“Eric’s right. She’ll want you to go back with her. To the Galactic.”
“I’ll tell you the truth, Amy: This is looking more and more like War of the Worlds stuff. If that’s the case, I’m not sure I want to get involved with it.”
“You believe me.”
“I know you’re telling me what you believe is true. Beyond that, I’m keeping an open mind.”
“I don’t know how to prove it to you.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It would have made things simpler if she’d given you something. Some kind of proof.” He tapped his stylus on the screen. “Anyhow, I’m not so sure now I want to go anywhere near the Galactic.”
“I thought that’s what reporters did,” said Amy. “Go to the places where the action is.”
“I’m not a reporter, Love. I’m an editor. Good editors stay out of the line of fire.”
“Oh.” She let him see she knew he was kidding.
“Not that we’re afraid of anything, of course.”
“Right,” she said. “Mac, what do you think is going on?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I honestly can’t figure it out. If they have the technology to move asteroids around, I’d think they could find a better way of attacking us than throwing rocks. I mean, all that does is warn us they’re there. If they really meant to come after us, they’d use flash weapons, right? Or nukes or something. They’d hit strategic targets. Not a hotel that hasn’t even been completed yet. And an empty world.” She stood for a long moment, looking down at him. “What do you think, Amy?”
“They might be a really old race,” she said.
“And?”
“Maybe they don’t care about whether we’re warned. Maybe they’re so far ahead of us they don’t see us as a threat. Maybe they’re playing games with us. Or maybe with each other, using us as pieces. As pawns.”
Mac closed the notebook. “See who can hit the monkeys with the rock. Extra points for a big rock.” He sat back. “You might have something.”
She managed a brave smile, but hearing it put that way sent a chill through her.
AMY SPENT THE afternoon doing homework. After dinner, they played a political game that Mac liked in which you chose strategies that would defame opponents while defending yourself as best you could. He was particularly good at it.
There were no recurrences of Amy’s vision. But then she didn’t go off by herself anymore. They watched a sim, and by eleven, she was exhausted and glad to climb into her sheets.
Eric also retired early. The day had been wearing for him as well. He would be glad when the experience was over. Mac was awake and working, seated in a chair with his lamp set up beside him. The rest of the welcome center was dark.
He remembered waking briefly and seeing Mac turn off his light. Then he drifted off again, waking a second time to Meredith’s soft voice. “Eric, the Lin-Kao is calling. Do you wish to take the call, or would you prefer I respond?”
“I’ll take it in the souvenir shop,” he said. He climbed to his feet and padded across the cold floor. The lights came on in the shop. He went in and closed the door behind him. “Okay, Meredith,” he said.
The Lin-Kao’s captain looked well along in years. He had white hair, grizzled features, steely blue eyes. “Surveyor.” He straightened himself. “We have just made our jump into your area. We’ll be there in about five hours.”
“Okay, Lin-Kao,” he said, feeling very professional. “We’ll be waiting.” He felt as if he should say something more. “You may have heard that moonriders were reported locally. You’ll be glad to know they are gone. As far as we know.”
There was a delay of about three minutes while the signal traveled out, and the response came back. “Good,” the captain said. “I am indeed glad.” His tone suggested he was not much impressed by w
ild stories. “We’re in good shape here, Surveyor. Other than running late. I have eleven people with me. All of whom are anxious to get off the ship. See you when we get there.”
He’d just settled into his blankets when Meredith was back. “Another call,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Salvator.”
“Okay.” Eric trooped back to the souvenir room. “Let’s hear it.”
Valya appeared, seated in the command chair. “I’ll be at the Galactic in a few hours,” she said. “I’ll pick these folks up and be on my way back as quickly as I can.”
The green lamp came on, inviting him to answer. “We’ll be waiting.” He should have stopped there, perhaps. “Valya, Amy thinks she saw something in the museum last night. She thinks it might have been one of the moonriders. She claims it looked like Hutchins. And that it told her they, whoever they are, are going to destroy Origins. She insists it wasn’t a dream. Anyhow I thought you should know.”
He signed off, unsure whether it had been a good idea to pass the story along.
NEWS DESK
HARRIET HEADS FOR GULF COAST
Monster Hurricane to Make Landfall Tomorrow Evacuations Ordered
ASTEROID CLOSES IN ON ORBITING HOTEL
Galactic Would Have Been First of Its Kind
Has Been Under Construction Six Months
Rescue Effort Under Way
MOONRIDERS SEEN IN NEBRASKA
Hundreds Near Omaha Watch Lights in Sky
GROUP GATHERS ON MOUNTAINTOP TO AWAIT SALVATION
“Salvation City” Adherents: The Lord Is Coming Tonight
Seventeen Hundred Packed and Ready to Go
Camped atop Mt. Camelback in Poconos
MOONRIDERS MAY BE GROUP HYSTERIA
Study: Sightings Are Delusional
Rock Clusters, Reflections, Imagination Account
for Phenomena
“People See What They Want to See”
MOONRIDER COMMITTEE: THEY EXIST
“Too Many Sightings to Dismiss”
MOONRIDER ACTION TOYS GETTING HOT
Aliens Jumping off Shelves
CHURCH GROUP RECOMMENDS REVIEW OF CURRICULA
NAC: Overemphasis on Damnation?
chapter 30
For males, sex is like baseball. Hit-and-run. Or put one out of the park, circle the bases and score, head for the showers, and clear out. That kind of behavior necessarily upsets the ladies. But it’s not anyone’s fault. It’s the way people are wired, and nothing’s ever going to change it.
—Gregory MacAllister, “Love and Marriage”
Amy watched on one of the welcome center screens as the Lin-Kao docked, and she was at the foot of the exit ramp when the hatches opened, and the workers from the Galactic trooped in. They were a noisy bunch, six women and five men, carrying their belongings. Plus the captain, whose name was Hugo Something. They dropped their bags, Hugo exchanged a few words with his passengers, glad he was able to help, see you at home sometime, took a moment to wave at Amy, and shook hands with Mac and Eric. “Got to get moving,” he said. “There’s a bunch more to pick up.” And that quickly he was gone.
The new arrivals were happy to be off the ship. “It was a bit crowded in there,” one of the women told Amy. “The air was getting stale.”
They were all hauling supplies. They’d arrived with the impression that food would be scarce at the museum, and had consequently brought a substantial amount from the Galactic. They also had blankets and pillows. A few took up residence in the welcome center; others moved into outlying locations.
The shadow that had hung over Amy dissipated, and the image of Hutch on the bridge suddenly felt far away. It couldn’t have happened. Maybe Eric and Mac were right.
Valya called to say she had picked up her contingent and was on the way back. A few minutes later a transmission arrived from the Cavalier. Its captain, a young man who looked barely older than Amy, told them he was on his way from Union to provide transportation home. “We’ll be there in four days.” The announcement was greeted by a cheer.
Amy struck up a friendship with one of the women, Vannie Trotter, a design specialist from Toronto. Vannie was amiable and reassuring, a dark-complexioned woman with black hair and a relentlessly upbeat personality. She was pretty old, about thirty, and had a husband and one son at home. She won Amy’s affection by questioning her about the moonriders, and about Amy’s reaction to them. At first, Amy said nothing about the experience on the bridge. Vannie was taking her seriously, and she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. But eventually she could no longer hold back, and she told Vannie everything.
“It really happened?” Vannie asked, when she’d finished.
“Yes.”
“What did the others say? The two guys who were here with you?”
“They think I was dreaming.”
“Were you?”
It seemed remote now. Something that couldn’t have happened. But she remembered how she’d felt when she saw the image, and how certain she’d been when she was pleading with Mac and Eric. “No,” she said.
Vannie smiled and drew closer to her. They were sitting on one of the padded benches that lined the walls in one of the exhibition rooms. The room was dominated by the Surveyor’s lander. “Don’t be too hard on them,” she said.
“You believe me, Vannie?”
“After what I’ve seen,” she said, “I’m ready to believe anything. Sure. Maybe they’d try to pass a message.”
“But why me?”
“Don’t know, Babe. Maybe you were the only one here with an open mind.”
“I don’t know what to do, Vannie. People will think I’m crazy.”
She nodded. “Who can you talk to that you can trust?”
She thought about it. “I have a few friends at school.”
“Any adults? How about your folks?”
“My father would never believe it.”
“Anybody else?”
“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 yo
u 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.
Odyssey Page 27
