Odyssey к-5

by Джек Макдевитт

  — 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.”

  The trial would start at nine. A seat had been reserved for MacAllister.

  HE DECIDED HE’D skip the trial, at least on the first day. If he went, he wouldn’t get back in time to have dinner with Valya.

  He switched on the news. The Black Cat was running a clip of Charlie Dryden, who was saying that, by God, Orion Tours wasn’t going to be scared off. “You can bet there’ll be another Galactic. We’ve decided, though, that Capella may not have been the best place for it.”

  “It’s going to be somewhere else?” asked the interviewer.

  “We were always divided about the site. There was a lot to recommend Capella, but we’ve come to feel that people would prefer a world where they can see some animals. So we’re going to build at Terranova.”

  That fitted exactly with MacAllister’s notion. He personally preferred a quiet world. But he’d always known most people would want animals. Something they could throw bread crumbs to.

  So they would build another Galactic. Something stirred in his memory. The comments of Karim and the others after the Salvator had rescued them. Three or four months behind.

  Never had the people to do the job right.

  The way things turned out, it was just as well.

  MacAllister didn’t think of himself as cynical. Realistic was closer to an accurate description. It was remarkable, though, a tribute to his character, that he wasn’t a cynic. As a working journalist, he’d seen constant abuse of power and authority, too much greed, too much hypocrisy. The current surge of interest in building an armed fleet, in expanding the interstellar presence, would be of enormous benefit to Orion, which owned and operated three of the six deep-space stations. Other giants would benefit, as well. Monogram would get prime contracts for building warships. Half a dozen companies would profit from designing weapons systems. Much of the software would be created and installed by MicroTech. And then there were outfits like Kosmik, that had been forced out of the terraforming business when the desire to colonize never really materialized. Kosmik would love an opportunity to help establish naval bases around the Orion Arm.

  Trillions would be involved if the World Council took the moonrider threat seriously.

  Trillions.

  The sun was a red splotch in his curtains.

  He called Hutch and got right through.

  “On the run, Mac,” she told him. “What can I do for you?”

  “Got a question. From what I’ve heard, the Galactic asteroid was too big to have been diverted and aimed at the hotel by anything we have. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “No, not really. I just wanted to know whether it would have been possible for, say, a couple of cargo ships to redirect that thing?”

  “No.”

  “No chance?”

  “No more than you’d have of pushing the state building off its foundation. You could maybe nudge it in one direction or another if you installed a bunch of thrusters. But to manage a pinpoint strike. Without leaving a trace? No.” She waved it away. “It’s not possible. With no technology we can imagine.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “By the way, Mac, we’d like to have you over for dinner. Are you free tomorrow?”

  Hutch would say yes if he asked to bring Valya, but it might put her in a spot. Bosses and subordinates and all that. That was another problem with relationships. They complicated everything. “Have to pass, Hutch. I’ve got commitments. Maybe next week sometime?”

  HE CALLED WOLFIE. “Did you ever hear any stories about construction of the Galactic running behind schedule?”

  “The hotel?”

  “Yes.”

  Wolfie was in his apartment. Someone else was there, out of view. A woman, undoubtedly. Wolfie mixed women and alcohol with enthusiasm. But he was a good journalist. “Not that I can recall,” he said. “Want me to look into it?”

  “Yeah. Don’t make a project of it. But try to find out if there’s anything to it. And if so, why?”

  He disconnected, poured himself a glass of brandy, went back to the sofa, and slept until Tilly woke him. “Valya is on the circuit, sir.” His breathing changed again. Maybe her relatives had gone home early.

  The moment she reappeared, though, he knew that wasn’t it. “Mac,” she said, “I have to bail on the dinner tomorrow night. Sorry.”

  “Me, too,” he said. “Anything wrong?”

  “No. I’m fine. I’m going to be gone for a while. They’re sending me out again.”

  “Already?”


  “Looks like.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “On the Salvator? I mean, you’ve got an assignment?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s short notice, isn’t it? Where are you headed?”

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I mean it, Mac.”

  “Sure.”

  “They’re sending me hunting for asteroids.”

  “You want me to talk to Hutch? I can probably get it canceled.”

  “No. It’s my job.”

  Damn. “Okay.” He sighed. “Are we talking about Origins?”

  “Yes.”

  “They’re taking Amy seriously.”

  “Yes.”

  “The Europeans have their own resources. Why don’t they send somebody?”

  “I guess they don’t believe the story. Hutch was pretty vague about it. I suspect she’s not sure how to proceed. They probably don’t want to push too hard because it’s so crazy.”

  “They have anything more to go on than Amy’s dream?”

  “What more could they have? I think it’s a fool’s run, but Hutch asked, and I didn’t see how I could say no.”

  “I guess not.”

  “You want to come?”

  It was tempting. But it would mean another week or two in that tin can. He had a lot of work to do. And there was the trial. “I have to pass, Valya. Is anyone going with you?”

  “No. But that’s not the issue.”

  “I understand. And I appreciate the offer. I’m just not able to manage it right now.”

  “Okay.”

  “See you when you get back?”

  “Absolutely. Talk to you, Mac.”

  DECIDING THAT AMY’S dream might have some substance in reality had unsettled Eric. He didn’t want to spend time alone in his modest two-story home outside Falls Church. The commissioner had left a message directing him to attend a staff meeting at the Academy that afternoon. A few weeks ago he’d have been right there. But it was a nice day, and he’d never been to a staff meeting at which anything was accomplished. So he decided to pass. He’d come up with a story later. Instead, he changed and went out for a stroll. Until about two years ago he had jogged regularly, but his knees had stiffened. Now he walked instead. He usually maintained a brisk pace, but today he decided he’d take his time.

  He always had an audio book with him. On this occasion, he was starting Command and Control, an analysis of military and political leadership during the last sixty years. The book led off with the economic competition that had developed between Canada and the United States during the last century, and how it had led ultimately to their union. He was listening to an account of the cod wars when his link vibrated. It was Hutch.

  He stopped on the edge of a grassy field and thought about letting the AI pick up, but Hutch wouldn’t give him away. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Eric, we’re sending Valya back to Origins to take a look around. Something about the mission will probably leak. Which means you may hear from the media later today or tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  “Officially, it’s a routine flight. After the incidents at Terranova and Capella, we’re just being cautious. Okay? It’s no big deal.”

  “Unofficially, you think she’s going to find another rock?”

  “Maybe two of them. For all we know, maybe the moonriders are thinking of hitting both ends of the accelerator.”

  “Who’s going with her?”

  “Nobody. She’ll be fine.”

  “And if she sees an incoming?”

  “Then we can sound the alarm.”

  “When’s she leaving?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “You know, she doesn’t believe it’s going to happen. Last time I talked to her, she thought Amy had imagined everything.”

  “That hasn’t changed. She thinks I’m pushing the panic button.”

  “Okay.”

  “It doesn’t make any difference. She’ll do the job.”

  Eric hesitated. Destiny was waiting.

  “Did you have something else?”

  Valya was going to go out there, spot a pair of incoming asteroids, give the alarm, and save one or two hundred lives. “Yes. I’d like to go along.”

  ORIGINS WAS TWENTY-FOUR light-years away. Fifty-five hours flight time to get into the area, plus whatever it would take to get to the facility.

  It was time for Hutch to decide whether she was willing to go the whole route with Amy. There was no safe way to play it.

  She called Operations and got Peter. “We may want to get some resources over to Origins in a hurry. Do we have anything at all available if the need arises?”

  “Nothing close by.”

  “What about the Rehling?” It would be carrying two VIPs home from Nok. But it would be within range of Origins. It could only accommodate eight or nine people, but it would be something.

  “It hasn’t left Nok yet.”

  She stared at Peter’s image. He was annoyed, trying not to show it. He thinks I’m going off the deep end, too. “Tell them to head out now. I want them to get to Origins as quickly as they can.”

  “You’re sure about this? They’re supposed to bring Autry and Cullen home. Those guys will not be happy.”

  “Do it anyhow. We have anything else?”

  “Nothing closer than a couple weeks.”

  “Okay. Take care of it, Peter. And let me know what the TOA looks like.”

  “Will do.”

  “Something else. I’m going to want a summary of everything that’s going to be at Union during the next twenty-four hours. I don’t suppose one of the Stars is in port?”

  “Negative. They wouldn’t send one of those anyhow. Wouldn’t matter what sort of emergency was going on.”

  “Sure they would. It all depends how you ask.”

  He laughed. “Okay. You’ll have the summary in a few minutes.”

  SHE CALLED ASQUITH. “Michael, I’m diverting the Rehling. Sending it to Origins.”

  “What?” He looked baffled. “Why? Haven’t you already sent the Salvator out there? Isn’t that enough?”

  “It’s a precaution. If there’s an event at Origins, we wouldn’t be in a position to do much for them.”

  “For God’s sake, Priscilla, it’s none of our business. Origins isn’t our operation. Let Allard worry about it. We’ve warned him. We’re covered.”

  “It’s done, Michael.”

  “Who’s on it? Anybody who’s going to give us trouble?”

  “Cullen and Autry.”

  “That’s just great. They’ll scream to high heaven.”

  “Michael, if an attack happens, we don’t want to be in a position where we know we might have done something about it but just sat here.”

  “Have it your own way, Priscilla. But I think it’s crazy.” He was at the capitol, supposedly conferring with a congressional work group. He looked a bit rumpled.

  “I want you to do something for me, Michael.”

  “What is it now?”

  “Call Dryden. Explain what we’ve got, and ask him if Orion can send a couple ships to Origins.”

  He pressed his fingertips against his temples, a man with a headache. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Look.” Father to daughter. “You want to put your reputation on the line because this kid has wet dreams, go ahead. But I’m not going any further with this. You’re that hot about it, you take care of it. You can tell him you’re speaking for me, if you want.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s not make it sound like an emergency, though. Right? This is something that isn’t going to happen. We know that. He’ll know it. It’s just a precaution. Or maybe a public relations move. But if something goes wrong, you’re out there by yourself. Understand?” He was about to disconnect when he remembered something. “By the way, I’ll be traveling on Academy bus
iness tomorrow. Attending a conference in Copenhagen. You’ve got the helm until I get back.”

  Hutch knew the symptoms. Asquith thought the whole thing would blow up, and he was getting as far from the fallout as he could.

  “WHY?” DRYDEN ASKED. “What’s the problem?”

  “There’s a chance there might be an attack at Origins.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “That sounds a trifle odd, considering what Orion’s just been through.”

  “Is there another asteroid coming in?”

  “Not that we know of, but we have reason to believe a strike may be imminent.”

  “Hutch, look, I can’t just grab some liners and send them off on a wild goose chase. What’s your evidence?”

  “I’m not free to say.”

  “Then I really can’t help. I’m sure you understand. We’d be happy to do what we can, but you’ll have to take us into your confidence.”

  “Let it go,” she said.

  She also needed to warn Origins. There was no indication Allard was likely to pass the Academy’s concerns on. She knew a few people at the facility. But if she communicated directly with them, it would constitute defying the director. If nothing happened, the Academy would be seriously embarrassed, and she would be making profuse apologies. Maybe there was a better way. She asked Marla to get Mac back on the circuit.

  “Hi, Beautiful,” he said. “What do you need?”

  “You have any contacts at Origins?”

  “I know a few people there. What did you need?”

  “Can you get a warning to them? Without involving the Academy?”

  “What did you want them to hear?”

  PETER SENT A schedule listing everything that was currently at Union, or that was expected within the next twenty-four hours.

  A lot of people on the orbiter owed Hutch favors. Over the years, the Academy had supplied ships and information to virtually every off-world corporate entity. They’d provided training, and even occasionally gone to their rescue. She’d included their VIPs on survey runs, when it was feasible, and had encouraged Academy technicians to help where they could.