Starhawk (A Priscilla Hutchins Novel)

by McDevitt, Jack

  “What we have, we’ve received through the efforts of the world’s scientists. Starting back with the Greeks, I guess. You guys got us out of the caves and gave us the sky. In the end, we owe everything to men and women like yourselves, who explore the reality in which we live.” He described how it felt to watch a ringed world rising out of an ocean, to ride with a comet, to watch a star hurling giant flares into the night. “And maybe especially,” he said, “to go to a place like Iapetus and look at the figure left there thousands of years ago by someone I suspect you folks would like very much to have met.”

  After about twenty minutes, he thanked his audience for listening and asked if anyone had a question.

  Hands went up around the room. “Captain Loomis, do you think we’ll ever find a seriously advanced civilization? By that I mean one that’s maybe a million years old?”

  “Where do you think we’ll be in another hundred years?”

  “What’s the most spectacular thing you’ve seen out there?”

  “Captain, Marian mentioned the possibility of a million-year-old civilization. What do you think that would look like?”

  “Why do you think we’re so fascinated by the possibility of finding someone else we could talk to? I mean, high-tech aliens could be dangerous.”

  The Talios story had not been released, so Jake did not mention it. “It’s in our genes,” he said. “What wouldn’t any of us give to sit down and have a beer and pizza with someone from the other side of the galaxy?”

  The remark brought applause. Then a young woman seated near the front raised her hand. Jake looked in her direction, and she got up. “Captain Loomis, how do you feel about Project Rainbow?”

  “I’m sorry. What’s Project Rainbow?”

  “Selika,” she said. “Where they’re killing off the planet.”

  “I think they should wait until they have better research. Until they can accomplish what they want without harming anything.”

  More applause. And more hands went up. He was about to signal someone else, but the woman stayed on her feet. “Would it be fair,” she said, “to describe your feeling as outrage?”

  “Well, I’m not sure I’d go that far. But I’m not happy with what they’re doing.”

  “You’re not happy? They are probably killing off everything on that world, everything on Selika, and you’re not happy?” Her voice was rising. “I wouldn’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I won’t sleep much better tonight knowing that people like you are in charge.”

  * * *

  NEWSDESK

  SHOOTER MISSES SENATOR BELMAR AT AWARD DINNER

  Two Dead; Senator Shielded by Killer’s Aunt

  HOPKINS DROPS OUT OF GOLD RACE

  Belmar, McGruder Lead in Nomination Fight

  Collins Stays in Despite Sex Scandal

  Wife Expected to Provide Support Tonight

  BOOKS LOSING GROUND IN WESTERN WORLD

  Does Anybody Read Novels Anymore?

  Nonfiction Down Slightly

  GROUP MARRIAGE LAW PASSES IN CALIFORNIA

  Governor’s Veto Overridden

  ASTEROID PASSES BETWEEN EARTH AND MOON

  NAU MURDER RATE DOWN 17TH STRAIGHT YEAR

  Chicago Safest City

  LAST MAN STANDING LEADS OSCAR HOPEFULS

  NORMAN: NAU WILL STAY OUT OF SOUTH AMERICAN TURMOIL

  NFL MAY EXTEND SEASON TO 24 GAMES IN 2198

  Players’ and Fans’ Unions May Oppose

  Chapter 21

  PRISCILLA SURFACED NEAR midnight on the seventeenth, five days before the licensing ceremony. Within an hour she received a relay of Jack Kelly’s Late Night reporting that unnamed sources had confirmed that Monika Wolf suffered a breakdown at Amity and was being returned for treatment. “Well,” said Monika, “I suspect that might leave you wondering where the truth is in this matter.”

  Kelly added that Kosmik was denying the report. They had a clip from an interview with Howard Broderick. “Ridiculous,” Broderick said. “Monika’s coming back, yes, but it has nothing to do with mental issues. I don’t know where this story came from.”

  Monika sneered. “Right, Howard, you wouldn’t have any idea, would you?”

  “Our guest tonight,” said Kelly, “is Senator Hollins of Ontario, a sponsor of the Life Guard Amendment, which would prohibit terraforming on any world where it can’t be done without harming the local life-forms. Senator, welcome to Late Night.”

  “Thanks for having me, Jack.”

  “I wanted to ask you about this Monika Wolf story. She’s coming home from Selika, which is the scene of the terraforming operation that’s causing so much uproar. Are they really killing the local wildlife? Edward Kepinjer, a biologist who’s been working on Quraqua, the other world where they’re doing terraforming, says they are not having any problem there. Can you explain what’s going on?”

  “Jack, this is unknown territory. We don’t really have solid evidence yet that we’re doing serious damage on Selika. Quraqua seems to be okay. But different worlds—?” He shrugged. “What we’re learning about Selika does suggest there might be a problem.”

  “If that’s the case, Senator, why don’t they just relocate to somewhere else?”

  “Because, at the moment, there is nowhere else. Not if you’re talking about establishing a colony. There are, in fact, about twenty living worlds. But in some cases the atmosphere is beyond reclamation. In other places, the gravity index is too high. Or too low. And I know that sounds strange, but most of us don’t adjust well if we have to spend a lot of time in low-gravity situations. Where it’s too high—” He smiled. “I don’t think many of your listeners would be much interested in putting on an extra two hundred pounds overnight. A couple of worlds might have been okay except that they have unstable ground conditions.”

  “So we have to look some more.”

  “That’s correct. Finding the right world is going to cost money. And it takes time. So far, we only have Quraqua. We thought we had a second place in Selika. Unfortunately, Jack, it looks as if that may not be working out.”

  Monika raised a fist.

  * * *

  THEY HAD JUMPED in unusually close to the Wheel. Ten hours later, the Venture pulled into dock. And it was, finally, time to say good-bye. Monika got her gear and paused at the air lock. The return voyage had been considerably easier than the outbound flight. “You want to ride with me next time,” Priscilla said, “just let me know.”

  “No charge?”

  “None at all.”

  “Good. Where are you going next?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Monika smiled. “Me, too. Look, let me know when you’re headed for Andromeda.” Priscilla offered her hand, but Monika embraced her. Then she stepped back. “One thing before I go: Don’t trust these people. Kosmik. Where they’re concerned, it’s strictly about the money.”

  * * *

  PRISCILLA WENT TO the Skyview for lunch. She was being shown to her table when her link chimed. It was Howard. “I’m glad to hear you’re back. How’d the flight go?”

  “It went okay,” she said.

  “No problems?”

  “No.”

  “All right. Good. What are you doing now?”

  “Just sitting down to lunch.”

  “When you’re finished, how about coming over to the office for a few minutes? No hurry.”

  * * *

  HE LOOKED UP from his desk, apparently happy to see her, and pointed to a chair. “You have another mission coming up. In six days. You have any problem with the schedule?”

  “No,” she said. “That sounds okay.”

  “Good. I just wanted to give you some advance warning.” He leaned forward and frowned. “There’s something else. You’d already left Amity before I found out why they were se
nding Monika back. I apologize for that. I wasn’t aware there’d been a stress-related problem, or we’d have handled things differently. She didn’t give you any trouble, did she?”

  “No. Not at all. She was fine.”

  “Okay. Good. I’m glad to hear it. We’re usually more careful.” He showed her a big, happy smile. “Anyhow, you’ll be leaving Wednesday, the twenty-third. You’ll be on the Venture again.”

  “I like the ship.”

  “I was sure you would. Obviously, you’ll be gone over Christmas. That’s okay?”

  “What’s the mission?”

  “Amity again.”

  Priscilla stared at him. “Amity?”

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “May I ask why?”

  “More supplies.”

  “More chemicals, you mean?”

  His good cheer faded. “Oh, come on, Priscilla. You’re not buying into all that nonsense, I hope? I guess that was the real risk of leaving you alone with Wolf for a week. It’s hard enough dealing with bomb throwers and crazy politicians. We’re trying to do what we can. But there’s no hard evidence for the charges. We’re doing the research, and there’s nothing solid.”

  “So you’re saying it’s not true?”

  “I’m saying nobody’s been able to show that it is true. Listen, we wouldn’t be doing this if we thought anything like that could happen. We’ve had a lot of experts look at the project. They say there’s no danger of anything like what people are talking about. We’re not killing off anything. Well, maybe some cellular stuff, but it’s not a planetwide extermination like they’re saying on the news shows.”

  “I did some research on the return flight, Howard. There are a good many experts who don’t agree with what you’re saying.”

  “Oh, listen, Priscilla, people always line up on both sides of any controversial issue. It gets them attention by the media. That’s all a lot of these people want.”

  She was trying to stay calm. “I couldn’t help noticing,” she said, “that most of the people who say there’s no problem had connections of one kind or another with Kosmik, or one of the other companies that are involved.”

  “I think that’s an exaggeration.”

  “You’re free to think what you like.”

  “Look, Priscilla, you have to understand that the Life Guard people have gone way over the top on this. We get threats all the time from lunatics who claim to be pro-life, but they don’t mind trying to kill anybody who doesn’t agree with them. My God, they’re shooting people. Did you hear about Senator Belmar?”

  “No.” Belmar was the pro-spaceflight candidate, running for the Gold nomination. “What happened?”

  “A kid with a plasma gun walked into a dinner where he was speaking. Killed a couple of people, and wounded, I think, seven or eight others. Fortunately, the senator wasn’t hit. The shooter’s aunt jumped in front of him. But he was the target. And, of course, Carlson put a bomb on the Gremlin and could have killed all those schoolkids. Is that really the side you want to be on?”

  “Lunatics are everywhere,” she said.

  “So you see my point.”

  “For the record, Howard, I’m not interested in being on anybody’s side. The kid with the plasma gun was a nutcase. That has nothing to do with what’s happening on Selika.”

  “Of course it does. It’s people like Monika, the true believers, who stir them up. Who are giving them a cause.”

  “I thought she made a lot of sense.”

  “Bear with me, Priscilla, but you’re not a climatologist.” There were voices in the corridor. And footsteps. The gravity level at the station was so light that one seldom heard people walking around. Somehow the sound seemed to add resonance to voices. His eyes cut into her. “Now, can I rely on you to be here next week?”

  Had he not asked the question, she might have gone ahead, said no more, and taken another load of superalgae out to Amity. But the question, somehow, turned everything into a confrontation. He was challenging her. He didn’t realize it, but he was making it impossible for her to duck the decision and simply do her job.

  “No, Howard,” she said. “I can’t do that.”

  “You’re being foolish, Priscilla.”

  She got up from her chair. “I guess I am. But what they’re doing out there—It’s something I don’t want to live with.”

  “You understand what this means? We can’t keep you on if we can’t depend on you.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. But I can’t accept any Selika assignments.”

  “All right. Have it your way. We’ll issue a closeout payment to you later today.” He got up. “Good luck, Priscilla. I’m sorry it has to end like this.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. “Me, too.”

  * * *

  SHE NEEDED A job again. Blackwell was one of two long-range-touring companies. They specialized in taking their clients, as they referred to their passengers, to see the Great Monuments. And, of course, a few of the other spectacles within three days’ travel time. She called them.

  “And what is your name, please?” asked a middle-aged woman with blond hair and a bored expression.

  “Priscilla Hutchins. I’d like to apply for a pilot’s position.”

  “I see.” The woman’s gaze locked on her. “Do you have any experience?”

  “I returned this morning,” she said, “from my first flight. Out to Amity. For Kosmik.”

  “You’ve separated from Kosmik?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Voluntarily?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a problem with the terraforming issue.”

  “I see.”

  The woman pressed a few tabs, looked away at something Priscilla couldn’t see. Came back. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hutchins, but we aren’t accepting applications at the moment.”

  “It doesn’t say that at your Web site.”

  “Yes. Well, that situation fluctuates a good bit. We’ll keep your name on file.”

  Interstellar Transport told her that, unfortunately, they just had no need of pilots at this time.

  Wagner DeepSpace regretted they had no openings.

  United Transport would call her if anything developed.

  * * *

  STARGATE TOURS, BLACKWELL’S competitor, invited her in for an interview. But by the time she arrived, they’d changed their minds. They were polite but pointed to her inexperience as the reason she would not be a good fit and apologized for wasting her time. She called Jake and asked what he thought was happening.

  “I think they’re not happy with a pilot who quits her first employer after one mission.”

  “Even if I had a good reason?”

  “Priscilla, there probably is no good reason.”

  * * *

  A FEW DAYS before the certification ceremony, she saw Carlos Ashwan in the Cockpit. Carlos was tall and lanky, the guy who always played the piano at parties. He would be one of the new pilots receiving his license. “You catch on with anybody yet?” she asked him.

  “More or less,” he said.

  “How do you mean?”

  “I’ve signed with the Academy Project.”

  “The deep-space explorers?”

  “Yep. It’s sponsored by Wilson University. In DC. I really like what they’re doing. All they’re interested in is what might be out there. Blue-sky science. But of course there’s always a downside.”

  “What’s the downside?”

  “Funding. They don’t pay real well. And the missions are long. You spend a lot of time in the fog. At least that’s what they tell me. I’ll be leaving on my first flight next week.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To 23 Librae.”

  “What’s 23 Librae? Whe
re’s that? I never heard of it.”

  “It’s eighty-five light-years out.”

  “Carlos, you’re going to need a month to get there.”

  “Actually twenty-four days.”

  “What do they expect to find?”

  “As far as I’m aware, the only thing they know about the place is that it’s got a planetary system. They think one of the worlds will have water.”

  Priscilla ordered a tuna sandwich and coffee. “Enjoy the trip.”

  “I hope. How’ve you been doing?”

  “I just walked away from one job.”

  “Really? What happened?” She explained, and he shook his head. “Well, you shouldn’t have any trouble finding somebody else.”

  “Carlos,” she said, “you think the Academy Project might have an opening?”

  He passed their address to her and smiled. “Tell them I recommended you.”

  * * *

  SHE RODE THE shuttle down and arrived the following morning at the Academy grounds in DC. Christmas shoppers were everywhere, birds were singing, and a warm off-season breeze was coming in from the Potomac. She strolled across the campus of George Wilson University, which of course was named for the president who’d forged the North American Union. A few people were at the Memorial Wall, taking pictures or just enjoying the weather. The Wall, of course, was dedicated to those who’d lost their lives during Academy operations. Names and dates were engraved, along with a brief account of the final mission on which they’d been embarked. Here was Chan Ho Ling, who’d died when his lander was caught in a horrific storm on a world orbiting Beta Comae Berenices. And Lyn Benedetti, stranded at Delta Pavonis and dead for lack of air before anyone could get to her. John Yaniwicz and Andrea Khoury, who’d constructed a boat and launched it into a river on Epsilon Reticuli III. Neither they nor the boat had ever been seen again.