“In the courtyard.” Taylor was a Greenie senator from Georgia, a guy who had no time for the Academy, star travel, or the sciences generally. He had gone to Congress on one issue only: a promise to do whatever was necessary to get the greenhouse under control. He had grown up on St. Simons Island, off the Georgia coast. A resort back in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, it wasn’t much more than a sandbar now. “He wants to talk about the future of the Academy.”
“I thought this was a social thing.”
“With politicians, Hutch, social things are always business.” He used the word politician with contempt, as he always did. You would never have thought he was one himself.
Ahead, a flyer descended into the parking area beside the courtyard. Two people got out, and the vehicle lifted away. She recognized Taylor. The girl with him looked about fifteen. She was pretty, as kids of that age invariably are. She glanced around at the administration building while her father spotted Hutch and Asquith and started in their direction, leaving her in the rear.
“The kid admires you,” said Asquith. “She thinks you’re a hero.” He smiled at the absurdity of the notion.
“Okay.”
“She wants to see the lander.” The lander from the Shanghai was on display at the far end of the courtyard. It gleamed in the sunlight.
AMY HAD BROWN hair combed into bangs and wide brown eyes and restless energy and a smile that was both charming and unsteady. Hutch felt sorry for her. Growing up with the senator would not be easy. What she knew of him suggested he wasn’t flexible enough for parenting, and the wife had taken off years ago with somebody. Another political figure, but she didn’t recall whom.
“Good to see you guys,” Taylor said, with a hearty handshake. Quick smile in Hutch’s direction, but his eyes leveled on Asquith. “Pretty scary with the Heffernan, Mike. What’s the latest?”
“We haven’t heard anything yet, Senator. We’ll have a couple of ships arriving in the area tomorrow to look for them.”
“But you really don’t know where they are?”
“Not for certain, no.”
“How’d it happen?”
“We don’t know that either. Yet. But we’re on top of it. I’ll keep you informed.”
“Old ships,” said Hutch, as Amy joined them.
Taylor turned a quizzical look in her direction. “You’re telling me they’re a hazard?”
“The commissioner has ordered them grounded,” she said. Asquith studied the tops of the trees.
“When were you going to tell me, Mike?” he asked.
The commissioner smiled. One of those smiles you get from a guy who’s just fallen off his cycle and is telling you he’s okay, it’s not as bad as it looks. “Senator, it’s one of the reasons I was glad you decided to come by today.”
Taylor let them see he was surprised that they might have defective ships. Then he shrugged. It was of no consequence. “Priscilla,” he said, “this is my daughter Amy. Amy is quite an admirer of yours.”
The child blushed and squirmed. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Hutchins. I’ve read all about you.”
Hutch took her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Amy. And my friends call me Hutch.”
Amy’s smile widened. “I was reading Janet Allegri’s book about you.”
“The Engines of God.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not really about me, Amy. It’s about the omegas.”
“And Quraqua. I’d like to go there someday.”
It was a world of ruins. She recalled how they’d looked in the moonlight. She’d been young then, only a few years older than Amy. Most of the ruins were gone, swallowed by the terraforming effort, begun and later abandoned when it got too expensive, and things went wrong. “How much do you know about Quraqua, Amy?”
“I’ve seen the holos. But it would be different actually to go there. To touch some of those places.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to be a pilot.”
“She doesn’t really want to do that,” the senator said, talking as if Amy had gone for a walk. “It’s too dangerous. And there’s no future in it.”
“It’s not dangerous, Dad.”
“Tell that to the people on the — what is it? — the Bannerman?”
“The Heffernan, sir,” said Asquith.
“Whatever. Anyhow, Amy, you’re young yet. We’ll see how things go.” He patted her on the shoulder. His expression suggested she was basically a good kid. Just a bit slow. “We’re planning law school for her.”
Taylor’s first name was Hiram. He was tall and aristocratic. He didn’t so much have a Southern accent as a distinct Southern flavor emanating from an education at Yale or Harvard. His hair was darker than Amy’s, as was his smile. It lasted longer, though. In fact, it never really went away. It was as if the world always contained something that Taylor thought mildly amusing.
Amy asked when Hutch had begun her piloting career, asked to see the lander, wanted to know what it felt like to walk on another world.
Hutch saw a signal pass between the senator and Asquith. The commissioner relayed it to her and glanced toward the lander. A few tourists stood in a short line, waiting to go inside. “Come on, Amy,” Hutch said. “Let’s go take a look.”
The girl led the way. They got into the line, and Hutch did not look back, but she knew they’d be talking seriously, or rather Taylor would and Asquith would be listening. It wasn’t hard to guess the way it was going, either. If you have to take the ships off-line, do it. We don’t want any more of these Heffernan things. The work’s just not that important.
The Academy wasn’t high on the list of things the public was worried about. Taylor had presidential ambitions, and he was laying groundwork for the future. The environmental damage done over the past two centuries had been the major issue in the past several presidential campaigns. If you thought rising water was okay, that warm winters were temporary, and a wheat belt that kept heading north would correct itself, you could forget about the White House. Those days were long over. If you advocated spending money on frivolous causes, like the interstellar missions that never seemed to produce anything, you could be made to look irresponsible.
The controls were roped off. Tourists were able to look into the cabin, try the seats, even bring the harness down to secure themselves. Hutch would have liked to bypass the lines, put the child in the pilot’s seat, let her touch the yoke, maybe even activate the AI so she could talk with it, but with people waiting it wouldn’t set a very good precedent.
Maybe another time.
WHEN SHE RETURNED Amy to her father, he looked pleased. The commissioner was nodding, a man in the process of accepting something he didn’t like. He was saying okay, we’ll do what we have to.
The conversation stopped dead on their arrival. Hutch waited a moment, but no one spoke. Time to lighten the mood. “Senator,” she said, “if you’d like to bring Amy over sometime when things aren’t so rushed, I could take her on a personal tour. Better yet, if you like, I could even arrange to take her up to Union.”
“That’s very kind of you, Hutch, but it’s really not necessary.”
“I’d be happy to,” she said.
He studied her, the smile still playing about his lips, pointless, as if he’d forgotten it was there. “Would you like to go to the space station, Amy?”
Would she? Does the sun rise in the east? “Yes, Dad. Please. I’d love to go up there again.” And back to Hutch: “Would you really do that?”
“Tell you what,” Hutch said. “I have a daughter, too. She’s a bit younger than you. But if you’ll help me keep an eye on her, we’ll all go. Okay?”
Taylor thanked her. His flyer reappeared and descended onto the tarp. They climbed in while Amy waved. Hutch and the commissioner waved back, the door closed, and the vehicle lifted into the late-afternoon sun and circled out over the Potomac.