POLL: PUBLIC IN THE AIR
ABOUT INTERSTELLAR TRAVEL
39 % Oppose, 30 % in Favor, 31 % Undecided or Don’t Know
Recreation for the Rich? Yes and No, Say Americans
Many Admit to Conflicted Views
EVANGELICALS AGREE: MAKE FOR THE STARS
“Closer to God,” Says Massey
FUNDAMENTALIST GROUPS
OPPOSE REFORESTATION BILL
Baker: “No Need to Worry about Environment;
End Times Are Near”
HOLLAND TUNNEL MUSEUM TO CLOSE
Maintenance Expenses Force Shutdown
Roadway Converted to Museum in 2179
Mayor to Make Final Trip Through
ACCIDENT AT MOONBASE: TWO DEAD
Both Victims Members of Construction Team Water-Extraction Module Had Just Passed Safety Inspection
FLU OUTBREAK KILLS THOUSANDS IN EAST AFRICA
Medical Teams on the Ground Too Late
Where Were the Vaccines?
STUDENT SHOOTS SIX IN JERSEY HIGH SCHOOL
Uses Antique Rifle
Sheriff’s Son Charged; Described as Loner
RUSSIANS, CANADIAN-AMERICANS
BECOME MAJOR AGRI-POWERS
Corn and Wheat Belts Moving North
MOONRIDERS ARE NOT ALIENS: TALVANOWSKI
“Probably Quantum Jets”
MACALLISTER WILL PAY FOR
DEFENSE IN HELLFIRE TRIAL
National Editor Stirs Pot
chapter 14
There are few professions whose primary objective is to advance the cause of humanity rather than simply to make money or accrue power. Among this limited group of humanitarians I would number teachers, nurses, bookstore owners, and bartenders.
— Gregory MacAllister, “Icons”
The Virginia Education Association met annually in Richmond during the third week in February to name the recipients of its Teachers of the Year awards. These were granted to a plethora of elementary and high school instructors. Various civic groups joined in. The Thomas Jefferson Freedom Guild granted special recognition to the winner of the political science award. The Jump Start Reading League provided plaques to several of the elementary teachers. The Academy gave its Distinguished Contribution to Science Education Award to the VEA’s science teacher of the year.
The National also presented a trophy for auspicious public service, known among the correspondents as the Courage Under Fire Award. The recipient would be a science teacher from a West Virginia high school who had defied demands by his school board and a small posse of parents that human enhancement be targeted as not proven, not safe, and socially unacceptable.
Usually, MacAllister assigned the presentation to one of his reporters. But this year, he had decided to do the honors personally. The reason was that he wanted to take advantage of the occasion to have a few words with its guest of honor, the prize-winning physicist, Ellen Backus.
He enjoyed the social advantages that came with celebrity. He drifted through the hotel meeting room, shaking hands with visiting dignitaries, pretending to the precise level of humility that he associated with greatness.
Shortly before seven thirty, the guests began filing into the banquet room. MacAllister found his place at the head table, shook hands with the emcee, introduced himself to Backus, and sat down. Moments later salads and rolls arrived.
He was still in the process of telling Backus that he was impressed with her work when his commlink vibrated. He excused himself and wandered to the side of the room. It was Wolfie.
“Yes,” he said.
“Mac, I was talking with an Academy source.”
“Okay.”
“They’re putting together a moonrider mission. Going out looking for the things.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. And apparently it’s not just a stunt.”
“How do you mean?”
“How else can I say it? They are serious.”
“Explain that to me.”
“I don’t know if I can. I get the impression there’ve been more sightings than anyone’s been admitting. Apparently, they’ve been seeing them all over the place.”
“You trust your source?”
“He’s always been on the money before, and he has no reason to lie to me.”
AFTER THE CEREMONY MacAllister took Backus aside. “I’ve a question for you, Professor.”
She looked barely out of high school. Smooth face, honey-blond hair, soft hazel eyes. “Of course, Mr. MacAllister. Fire away.”
“Do you have any connection with the Origins Project?”
“You mean, have I ever been out there?”
“No. I mean, are you aware of the details?”
“It’s not my specialty, Mr. MacAllister — ”
“Call me Mac.”
“Mac. But I know a little about it.”
“Are there hazards?”
“How do you mean?”
“Are the experiments dangerous in any way?”
The eyes locked on him. “I don’t think there are any undue hazards. You start crashing atoms together at the kind of velocities they’re using, and there’s always going to be a degree of risk. That’s why they built it out where they have.”
Mac tried her first name. “Ellen — ”
She smiled. “You’re talking about where the universe goes down a black hole.”
“Something like that. I had a call from Anthony DiLorenzo. Do you know him?”
“Not personally. I know of his work.”
“Would you mind giving me your opinion of him? It’ll go no further.”
“As I say, Mac, I don’t know him. He has an outstanding reputation.”
“He says there’s a chance that when they turn on the hypercollider it will” — he consulted his notes — “rip the fabric of space. End everything.”
She nodded. Looked as if someone had just belched in the middle of dinner. “Yeah. I’ve heard that. I don’t think the possibility is very likely.”
“Then it is possible.”
“Oh, sure. You get into an area like this, where we still don’t know very much, and anything is possible. But I don’t think it’s worth worrying about.”
“You’re telling me the Origins Project could conceivably destroy the universe, but it’s not worth worrying about?”
She looked amused. “Mac, I had no idea you were given to panic.”
“How would you state the odds?”
“Astronomical.”
“For or against?” She laughed, but she was beginning to look around. It would be just moments before she realized she had to be somewhere else. “Doesn’t it seem to you,” MacAllister continued, “that if there’s a potential for a catastrophe on that scale, we should stay clear of the experiment, no matter what?”
“Mac.” She looked up at him. “Don’t lose any sleep over it.”
HE CALLED HUTCH, but her AI told him she was in conference. She got back to him an hour or so later. He was home by then, working on a review of a new book by Zacarias Toomas. Toomas had done a series of brilliant introspective novels, analyzing the assorted misconceptions and hypocrisies of suburban life in modern America, but this latest one, Parlor Games, was a disaster. Despite his reputation, MacAllister took no pleasure in assaulting good people. He didn’t mind taking out after the assorted blockheads who consistently got themselves into the public eye. But somebody like Toomas…He was a MacAllister discovery. And a friend.
Ah well.
Then Hutch was sitting in front of him. “What can I do for you, Mac?”
She was cool and businesslike. He tried to soften the moment, commenting that he’d watched Asquith testify.
“We’ll survive it,” she said. “Eventually we survive everything.” He read the implication: Even our friends.
He refused to get annoyed. “I understand you have an April mission going out.”
“We have a couple missions in April. Which one were you r
eferring to?”
“The moonrider flight.”
“Ah. Yes. I’m surprised you heard about that. We haven’t released the information yet.”
“Then it’s true?”
“Oh, it’s no big deal. We’re just going to take a look around.”
“When’s it leaving?”
“I’m not supposed to say anything.”
“Hutch.” His fatherly voice. “Between us. It’ll go no further.” When she hesitated: “I have a reason for asking.”
“I’m sure you do. We’ll be launching at the beginning of the month.”
“Why hasn’t there been an announcement?”
She hesitated. Lowered her voice. “I know how the moonriders play, Mac. I didn’t want people laughing at us.”
“You think they’re really spaceships?”
“No.” She tried to laugh it away.
“Then why are you running the mission at all?”
She took a deep breath. “Because there’s a chance, Mac.”
“It must be more than that, Hutch. What aren’t you telling me?”
“There’s been a wave of sightings. We can’t just dismiss them all.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “How’d you find out?”
He switched to his east European accent. “Ah, my dear, I have my methods.”
“I’m sure. Is there anything else you needed?”
She looked as if she were about to terminate the conversation. “How long will the mission run?” he asked.
“About a month. Maybe a bit longer.” She looked off to one side. “Mac, I have to go. I’m awfully busy right now.”
“Okay. Just give me a minute more, and I’ll get out of your way. Are they going to find something?”
“That’s not the purpose of the mission. They’re just going to be distributing monitors.”
“These recent encounters, the ones that haven’t been made public, can you describe some of them for me?”
“I’m just not free to do that, Mac.”
“You’re not a good liar, Hutch.” She stood quietly watching him, not reacting. And he knew exactly what she was up to. “If I were to ask to go along, you’d make room for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Reluctantly.”
“Reluctantly, hell. You want me to make the flight. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”
She sighed. “You got me.”
“Why?”
“Mac, we’re hoping to use the flight to create some public interest. Get people excited about the work we do.”
“I see. And you thought if I went along — ”
“The story would get bigger.”
“Why didn’t you just ask?”
“I didn’t think you’d do it.”
“Try me.”
She softened. Smiled. “Mac, it’s not as much fun that way.”
“You wanted to fox me, didn’t you?”
“I thought you’d have enjoyed the flight. You get a cabin to yourself and a tour of some of the loveliest places in the area.”
In fact, the mission might provide some material for Dark Mirror. At the very least, he saw no problem with giving the Academy space in The National. He expected, though, that she wouldn’t care for the result. “You still haven’t asked if I would go.”
“Mac, would you go? Do it for me?”
“Sure,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
LIBRARY ENTRY
PRESS RELEASE: KINGSTON FOUNDATION
The Martha Kingston Foundation, which donates millions every year for scientific research in a wide range of fields, today announced that Charles Dryden, an executive with Orion Tours, will receive this year’s coveted Kingston Prize, awarded annually to their most successful fund-raiser.
Mr. Dryden is a product of the University of Kansas. He started his career as a political aide….
BEEMER ON MEDICATIONS
Henry Beemer, charged with attacking a preacher in a bookstore last week, has been increasingly depressed and quarrelsome, according to coworkers and friends….
— Derby (North Carolina) Star, Tuesday, February 24
chapter 15
There was a time when you could retreat from the mass of humanity simply by moving into the forest, or heading for an island. Then it became the back side of the moon. With the development of FTL, nowhere is safe. If history is a guide, we will not stop until every green patch in the Milky Way has a squatter.
— Gregory MacAllister, “Slower Than Light Is Fast Enough for Me”
Hutch’s exchange with MacAllister left her in a glorious mood. She had never thought of simply coming out and asking. Well, she had, but it would have seemed too much like an imposition, so she’d not seriously considered it.
She had not been exaggerating when she’d told him she was busy. A stack of documents a foot high waited on her desk, and a group of Israeli astrophysicists was due in the building at any moment.
“Hutch,” said the AI, “Amy Taylor is trying to reach you.”
Amy? “Put her through, Marla.”
The teenager wore khaki shorts and a University of Virginia pullover. She flashed a smile that was at once innocent, shy, and calculating. “Hi, Hutch,” she said. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all, Amy. I’m a little rushed at the moment. But what can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to know if I could come over sometime and you could maybe show me around the Academy? If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Sure. When did you want to come?”
She was trying to say something else. Hutch waited while she found the words. “Hutch, the truth is, I’d love to go on an Academy mission. Go somewhere nobody’s ever been before.”
“Amy, those flights tend to be long ones. You’d be away a few months. I’m not sure that would work.”
Amy nodded. “You don’t have anything close by? I know we haven’t gone everywhere around here.”
“There are a lot of places that are only a couple of days out that we haven’t bothered with, Amy. But usually there’s a reason.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “I just thought I’d ask.”
“There are tours.”
“I don’t think it would be the same. Anyhow, my father wouldn’t approve.”
“If he wouldn’t approve of a tour flight, why would you think he’d go along with something more exotic?”
“A flight in an Academy ship? How often does that come along? He might see a political advantage to it.”
The girl’s explanation sounded reasonable. “I’ll take a look around, Amy. See if we have anything.”
SHE WAS NEVER sure when the possibility first occurred to her to offer Amy a berth on the Salvator. Later, recalling the sequence of events, she thought she’d been toying with the idea before the call came in. The more she thought about it, the more promising it seemed. She’d only be gone a few weeks. There would be, for a teenager, a certain cachet about the mission. The ship’s AI could handle her schooling. She’d be in good company, and the trip would be something she’d remember for a lifetime.
She put through a call to the senator. He got back to her late that afternoon from his office. “Hello, Hutch,” he said. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“Senator, we have a flight going out in early April — ”
“The moonrider flight — ”
“I don’t guess we’ve had much luck keeping it quiet.”
“The commissioner mentioned it to me.” He shook his head. “These are crazy times we live in.”
“Yes, they are.”
“I hope you find something. It would be nice to know whether there’s anything to these stories.”
“I doubt there is,” she said.
“I take it this is Michael’s idea.”
“Pretty much.”
His standard smile widened. Became genuine. “He claimed you were behind it.”
“Ah,” she said. “He likes to give credit to the help.”
&n
bsp; “Yes, I’m sure.” He held up a hand to stall the conversation, exchanged comments with someone at the other end, then turned back to her. “Sorry, Hutch. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Senator, I was thinking we might do something nice for Amy.”
“That’s very generous.” He looked wary. “What did you have in mind?”
“She’s mentioned that she’d enjoy making an Academy flight. Most of the missions go too far. They’re out too long. But the Salvator, which is doing the moonrider flight, is just going to be making a tour of local star systems. Anyhow, we have space if you’d approve, and I thought it would be something she’d enjoy.”
Taylor looked reluctant. “I don’t know,” he said.
“She’d get to see the Origins Project. And the Galactic Hotel at Capella, and the Hightower Museum. And Terranova, and — ”
“Hold on, Hutch. That sounds good. But I’m not comfortable having her away from school that long.”
“Once-in-a-lifetime experience, Senator.”
“Also, I’m not sure I can accept this kind of favor.”
“That’s a call you’d have to make, sir.”
“Yes. Hutch, let me get back to you.”
It took less than twenty-four hours. Hutch got a call from an excited Amy the next morning minutes after she’d arrived in her office. “Hutch,” she said, “thank you.”
CLEARY’S WAS A small, posh coffee shop overlooking the Retreat, the alien habitat that had been disassembled and transported from the Twins and reconstructed on the banks of the Potomac in Pentagon Park. It was midmorning, and Hutch was sitting at a corner table snacking on coffee and bagels when Valya walked in.
The Greek pilot scanned the interior, spotted her, and came over. “Hi,” Valya said. “Sorry I’m late. I lost track of the time.” She was wearing a flowery yellow blouse and gray plaid slacks. “What’s up?”
The moonrider flight was a mission to nowhere. Oddly, though, Hutch was beginning to regret she wouldn’t be on the bridge. “Not much. We’re losing missions left and right.”
“So I hear.” Valya had soloed with Hutch. It had been her qualifying flight. “The bagels look good.” She collected one from the counter and sat down. Fresh coffee came. She smeared grape jelly on the bagel and took a bite. “Well,” she said, “I hear we’re going out looking for gremlins.”
Odyssey к-5 Page 13