Burke, Unterkoefler, Nakata, and the others who are maintaining the position are pointing at the fact that savagery still exists across our world. And they are correct to the degree that we have not yet established a completely peaceful planet. But it might be helpful to point out that we no longer have governments threatening world order. Yes, there are small groups of hostile lunatics killing themselves periodically in the name of religion or politics. But all they can do is create havoc. They have no capability to design new technology, and we no longer have outlaw governments willing to deliver technology into their hands.
A bright future awaits us. But we have to possess the courage to move forward into it.
—Sunday, February 24, 2256
7.
Point me out the way
To any one particular beauteous star,
And I will flit into it with my lyre,
And make its silvery splendor pant with bliss.
—John Keats, “Hyperion III,” 1819
Hutch put on a pair of sunglasses and her Washington Hawks baseball cap. Then she picked up her luggage, climbed into the car, and directed it to take her to the DC spaceport. People with signs were gathered around the entrance, apparently waiting for her.
STAY HOME AND BE SAFE
KEEP OUT OF THE HORNET’S NEST
MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS
THEY’RE OUT THERE
DON’T BE CRAZY
YOU’LL KILL US ALL
They flew the blue-and-white banners of the recently organized Save the Earth Foundation. “What do you want to do?” asked the car, whose name was Molly.
“Pull up in front of them,” she said.
“You sure, Priscilla? They look disorderly.”
It didn’t matter. The spaceport had no accessible back door. She climbed out, and catcalls started before she was even able to get to her luggage. “Take care on your way out, Molly,” she said. “They might be mad at you too.” She pulled her bags out of the trunk and started to walk toward the entrance. Ordinarily, the car would have driven away as soon as the luggage was clear, but Molly waited, giving her a chance to change her mind.
Security people were present, though substantially outnumbered. Nonetheless, when the demonstrators started toward her, they moved in and set up a restraining perimeter.
The demonstrators were mostly college age, the kind of kids who, in an earlier era, had been animal rights activists or who’d worked to get passage of government-funded elections. A young woman, carrying a sign that read simply: HUTCH, PLEASE BACK OFF, called out to her. “Captain Hutchins, please don’t do this.”
The officers cleared her path to the door.
Voices rose all around her: “Hutch, this is not you.”
“Priscilla, how can you possibly help these people?”
“Is that really her? I never would have believed this.”
There was no way to respond. Eye contact would have been potentially deadly, so she stayed focused on the side of the building, then on the doors, and finally on the security guards who got in the way of the more aggressive demonstrators.
• • •
Beth Squires and Clay Clairveau were already in the waiting area, talking. She joined them, and they shook hands and tried to laugh off their reactions to the crowd. But it was unnerving. “It’s okay,” said Clay. “We have a pretty good chance of making the history books.”
“Let’s hope,” said Beth, “that it won’t be because we get everybody blown up.”
“I’ll settle for that,” said Clay with a grin that was almost malicious. “Maybe we could bring a few aliens back to say hello to these Save the Earth nitwits.”
“They may have a point,” said Hutch.
“You okay?” asked Beth. She had dark brown curly hair and hazel eyes and an expression that suggested she was a bit rattled.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just not sure which side I’m on.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
“If we had people like those ding-dongs running things,” said Clay, “we’d still be living in caves.”
Beth smiled and her eyes softened. She checked the time and looked around, obviously not happy. “My husband always runs late.”
“He working on another book?” asked Hutch.
“He’s always working on one. But he was a guest on The Public Square this morning. Threw his schedule off a bit. He’s on his way, but that’s all I have.”
Hutch couldn’t remember having met Clay before, but something about him rang bells. “Clay,” she said, “are you related to Marcel Clairveau?”
He grinned. “My dad.”
He was one of the guys who’d rescued her when she was dangling over Maleiva III. Clay resembled him, congenial eyes, lantern jaw, thick black hair, the kind of guy you felt instinctively you wanted at your back if you were headed for trouble. “How’s he doing? I owe him.”
“He’s fine. Still with TransGalactic. He asked me to say hello.”
“Give him my best.”
“I will, Hutch. I should tell you that I owe you as well.”
“Why’s that, Clay?”
“You’re the reason I got into this business. You’ve set a serious example for the rest of us.”
They embraced, shared a few more jokes about their reactions to the anger around them, and after a few minutes were joined by Ken, Beth’s husband. “Sorry,” he told them. “Traffic jam.” He was even bigger than Clay.
• • •
Derek was waiting when they docked at Union. “Glad to see you guys,” he said. “They’re still working on the ship, so we’ll be staying in the Starview tonight. Don’t worry about your luggage. They know where it’s going. I take it you’ve all been introduced to one another?”
Hutch was happy to see there were no more demonstrators. They all shook hands with Derek while he suggested they have dinner and relax for a while. “I heard about the problem on the ground,” he said. “I wish we could have kept all this quiet until we got clear. We’re just not very good at keeping secrets.” He glanced at Ken. “How’s the book coming?”
Ken had been a catcher with the Boston Red Sox, and he looked it. He’d stayed in shape and moved with the ease of a track and field athlete. Hutch had watched a couple of his presentations and been struck by the degree to which his amiable features could clash with the sudden intensity that showed up periodically in his blue eyes. “I’ll let you know,” he said, “when we get back.”
“I hope it has a happy ending.” Derek had obviously wanted a more upbeat response. “Somebody want to pick a restaurant?” They had arrived in front of Big Bang Burgers, and everybody looked in its direction. “All right, why do any unnecessary walking? Let’s go over there and chow down, and then we’ll get checked into the Starview.”
The Union Space Station ran on GMT, which was approaching six forty-five p.m. when they arrived at the hotel. “So we’re all together on the details,” said Derek after they’d signed in, “we’re going to try to get out of here by nine tomorrow morning. We’ve been hearing about a last-minute effort to close us down, so we want to go as soon as the service people give us the ship. Meet in the lobby. Nobody be late, okay?”
He got assurances, wished them good night, and headed out the door.
Hutch had brought three suitcases with her, but only one was waiting in the hotel room when she walked in. She’d marked the others for the Eiferman. Everything she needed for the overnight was in the lone bag. She opened it and took out a change of clothes. Then she showered, dressed, and went back downstairs to the bar, where everyone except Derek eventually showed up. They settled into a corner and spent the balance of the evening getting to know one another. It was, she had learned, one of the most important aspects of prepping for a long mission.
• • •
All except Ken were veterans of interstellar flight. He’d been out only once, to take a look at Quraqua. It was becoming Earth’s first real colony, he said, and consequently it would occ
upy a major position in his upcoming history. Mars, he explained, didn’t count. It was an outpost. Nothing more. “I almost got left behind,” he said. “Blanchard apparently got bad information on me. He thought I’d been out on a few flights. When he found out there’d been just one, he was going to back off. He could have gone with either Yakata or Keller. Both would have been happy to provide the history he wanted. And they’d been out several times.”
“So why,” asked Clay, “did he stay with you?”
Ken grinned at Beth. “He also needed an MD. She let him see she wasn’t going without me.”
“Why would he care about the number of flights?” asked Walter. Walter Esmeraldo, introduced as Wally, was the final member of the team. “I mean, you’re not the pilot or anything.” Wally was two inches shorter than Hutch, with red hair and an easy smile. He’d been out on missions with her several times, and her overall impression was that if the drive unit or the life support system gave out, he was the guy you wanted on board.
“I think he was worried I might develop psychological problems. I guess he didn’t want to take a chance on somebody getting homesick.”
“How about you, Wally?” asked Clay. “Are you the Jack McGuire of interstellar techs?” Jack McGuire was the hero of an adventure series, a guy who was always able to defeat the bad guys and solve mechanical problems by coming up with duct-tape solutions.
“You could say that.” Wally delivered a wide smile. “Were you out on that earlier flight with your husband before, Beth?”
“Nope. This is the first time we’ve been together. I’m looking forward to it.”
“How’d you get the assignment?” said Wally.
“I’m not sure. I think Ken has the wrong side of this. I suspect they wanted him for the PR, and he probably cut a deal.” She flashed a smile in his direction while he managed to look shocked. “They needed an MD anyhow, so I guess that part of it was an easy call.”
“Beth,” said Hutch, “you worked for TransGalactic, right?”
“Until a couple of years ago. I liked life at Union and an opening developed here, so I made the change. It made life a bit easier for us. I got to see my husband once in a while.”
“Do you guys actually live here? On the station?”
“Oh, no. We have two kids, and this is just not a good place for them. I do occasional missions, but I’m not out constantly running all over the universe like it was before we got married.”
Somebody snickered. “So now you’re leaving town with us?”
“Yeah. I know. We talked about it before I got on board. This could be a historic mission. I almost passed, but the kids will be okay and I know Ken wanted to do this.”
“And it pays pretty well,” said Clay.
Eventually, Hutch excused herself and walked over to the docking area. Two vehicles that she’d taken out, the Phyllis Preston and the Harold Wildside, were in view. There was no sign of the Eiferman, but the docking area was big. The roof was open allowing her to see a slice of the moon.
She missed the old days, when there were more missions than she could handle.
• • •
She slept soundly, got up with the alarm, and was checking out at the desk when her commlink sounded. “Gotta move,” said Derek. “They’re waking people up to get a stop order signed. As we speak. Get over here right away. Where are you now, Priscilla?”
“Just leaving the hotel.”
“Okay. Hustle it up. The others with you?”
“No. I’m alone at the moment.”
“All right. Just get here. I’ll call everybody.”
Hutch grabbed her bag and hurried out through the front doors. But she’d only taken two steps onto the concourse when she realized she didn’t know where the Eiferman was docked. She dug out her commlink again. “Ops,” she said.
A male voice replied, “This is Operations. What do you need, Captain Hutchins?”
“Where’s the Eiferman?”
“One second, please.” He clicked off, then came back. “Romeo.”
On the far side. There were no transport vehicles in the station, but it had a moving walkway. She carried her bag over to it—there was no time for the delivery service—and got on it. As she moved forward along the concourse and the Starview started to curve out of sight, she saw Beth and Ken charge out through the front doors and look wildly in both directions. Then Beth was on her commlink.
She needed fifteen minutes to get to the Romeo boarding area, where she hurried into the connecting tube. The Eiferman, locked in place by magnetic clamps, was visible through transparent walls. The Union docking system was capable of holding eighteen vehicles. In Hutch’s early days it had usually been crowded. She could remember once having to settle for an emergency quay on the roof of the station. Now the bay was almost empty.
Beth and Ken caught up with her as she approached the airlock. It was open, and they passed through into the passenger cabin. “Touch and go,” said Beth. She and Ken sat down. The luggage from the terminal had arrived and was piled in a corner.
“You guys,” said Hutch, “can go back and pick your cabin if you like. But be back up here when we get ready to leave.” She heard movement on the bridge. Wally was there, standing in the door and talking with Barry, the AI, checking the maintenance report. “How we doing?” she asked.
He wiggled a hand. “We haven’t been cancelled yet.”
“Are we ready to go?”
“More or less. I’d like to have a little more time to look around, but the reports are okay. And our luggage is on the way from the hotel. As far as I can tell, we’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
“Is Derek here yet?”
“He’s in back somewhere.”
She returned to the passenger cabin. They’d installed eight chairs, which could be locked into the deck. There was a large display screen, and a group of lamps, one positioned to service each of the chairs. She passed through into the corridor, which led aft along the cabins to the galley, storage, and workout areas. Beth and Ken had just opened the door to their cabin and were carrying luggage inside. Derek came out of the captain’s cabin. “Good morning, ladies,” he said. “Glad to see you. Hello, Ken.”
He gave Hutch a hand with her bag. Then he pushed open one of the doors. “In here,” he said. She watched while he hauled her suitcase into the wrong room. There was no difference between the cabin reserved for the captain and those set aside for the other occupants, except for a private line in from the AI for emergency use. The cabin was not expressly marked in any way, other than a star at eye level. On all ships it was located on the port side, nearest the passenger area and bridge.
Once they were inside, Derek closed the door. “Priscilla,” he said, “we want to get moving as soon as Clay gets here.”
Hutch nodded. “Have we locked in all the numbers yet? For Calliope?”
“Of course,” he said, sounding annoyed. “Barry has everything.”
“Good. Just playing it safe. I wasn’t trying to insult anybody.”
She left the cabin and headed for the bridge. “Hello, Captain Hutchins,” said the AI as she walked through the door. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Welcome aboard.”
“Hi, Barry.” She lowered herself into her seat. “It’s a pleasure to be here. You have the range and direction for Calliope?”
“I do, Captain. Seven thousand two hundred and forty-seven light-years. That is, of course, an estimate.”
“Of course. So we’ll be under—?”
“Twenty-six days, three hours.”
A commlink sounded behind her. She turned to see Derek standing by the door. He took the call and listened for a minute. Then: “Okay, Janet. Thanks for letting me know.” He paused. “The stop order’s been signed.”
Outside, other than the presence of a few lights along some of the docks, the dome seemed suddenly dark. Hutch began going over the check-off list with the AI.
Derek leaned dismayed against the doorway. “Jan
et got the word from one of her contacts. They haven’t let us know officially yet. But unless the contact’s got it screwed up, they should be calling it in now.”
“Well, what do you want to do, Derek? Give it up, or start the engines?”
“You know the answer to that.” He looked away from her, staring at the windows. “Do it.”
It was the reply she wanted. “Go, Barry.”
Lights came on across the instrument board, and the soft murmur of power rose out of the bulkheads.
“I’ve got to tell you, Priscilla, we didn’t quite complete the inspection. But we should be okay.”
“That’s not good, Derek.” Her training was clear on the issue: You don’t go anywhere until inspection and maintenance are complete.
“We don’t have much of a choice, do we? Stay or go.”
“Where’s Clay?”
“He’s coming.” Derek checked the time and looked out through the windows, but there was no sign of him. He opened his commlink, glared at it, and grumbled Clay’s name.
“On my way, Derek,” Clay said. “I was in the shower when you called.”
“Where are you now?”
“Outside the hotel. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Derek shut it off and rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth. “Great,” he said.
His commlink buzzed. “It’s Janet again.” He turned the volume up so Hutch could hear.
“A message just came in from Director Zhang. I haven’t looked at it yet.”
“Don’t go near it,” said Derek. “Priscilla, get us out of here.”
“What about Clay?”
“Can you manage without him?”
“As long as nothing happens to me. Or Barry.”
“Then leave him. Let’s go.”
She connected with Ops. “Eiferman ready for departure.”
Derek was talking to Janet again. “We’re pulling out now.”
The Long Sunset Page 7
