—Lucretius, De rerum natura, III
Chapter 12
PRISCILLA CHECKED INTO the Starlight and had some warm milk sent up for Tawny. It was unlikely that the Banter Exchange would have cat food for sale. But she called them anyway. They apologized and explained that people rarely brought pets up to orbit. So she ordered some turkey from the hotel restaurant. Then she called her mother. “Just wanted to let you know we got back okay.”
“Priscilla, I’m so glad. We were worried the whole time,” she said. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I didn’t really do much, Mom. It was Jake and Captain Miller and a teacher traveling with the kids who took all the chances.”
“You were there, too, darling.”
“And that was pretty much my total contribution. I guess you know we lost Captain Miller.”
“I know. That must have been an awful experience.”
“It was.”
“I saw you on HV.”
“The reporters were waiting when we got off the ship. Anyhow, my training is over. I’m getting my license.”
“Well, good, love. When will you be coming home?”
“I’ll stay on the Wheel tonight. But I expect to get some time off. When I find out what’s happening, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. Do you have enough money, dear?”
“Yes, Mom. But there is one more thing: I need a favor.”
“Okay.”
“A cat got stranded at one of the stations. We had to rescue it.”
“A cat?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to take it off your hands?”
“Ummm, yes, Mom. Maybe not so much take it off my hands, but just take care of her until I can figure out how to handle this myself. You’ll like her.”
She laughed. “Okay,” she said. “We haven’t had a pet around here since Loopy died.”
* * *
TAWNY WAS ENJOYING her turkey when the link sounded. “Ms. Hutchins?” A male voice.
“Yes?”
“Would you come up to the operational offices please? Room 307. We have a few questions for you.”
* * *
PRISCILLA’S INTERVIEW WAS conducted by Emil Gadsby, whom she’d met on the day of the Copperhead’s departure. Emil asked about the students, whether there’d been any problems with life support, presumably other than its being inadequate to keep everybody alive. He asked whether anyone had complained of breathing difficulties at any time, whether there had been any other health issue, and, in general, how the passengers had reacted to the experience. Finally, he looked at her pointedly. “How about you, Priscilla? Any problems?”
“No, Emil,” she said. “I’m fine.”
He might have been expecting a different answer. Emil was an ordinary-looking man, a little smaller than most guys, with receding black hair and brown eyes that seemed a bit too close together. He spoke slowly, methodically, in a basso profundo that was a complete mismatch with his quiescent appearance. If she looked away, Priscilla could easily imagine she was talking to the head of the gunrunning mob in the latest Brad Halloway adventure.
“Okay,” he said. “Good. You’ve been approved for certification. You’ll receive your license at a ceremony in the Starlight on December 22.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck, Priscilla. Enjoy your career.”
* * *
SHE CALLED JAKE.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You performed under a lot of pressure. I think you have a serious future in this business.”
“Thanks, Jake. Do they know anything yet about the bomb?”
There was a pause at the other end. Then: “They’re working on it. I think there’ll be an announcement in a couple of days.”
He knew more than he was saying, but she let it go. In the end, it didn’t much matter who did it. Joshua was lost, and that was all she really cared about. “I hope they catch him,” she said. “Times like this, I think we should have stayed with capital punishment.”
* * *
TRADITIONALLY, ON HIS first night back from a mission, Jake would have enjoyed a quiet dinner at the Skyview, with its eighty-foot-long portal, which provided a magnificent view of the Moon, the Earth, or whatever happened to be in the sky. Then he’d head for the Cockpit and hang out there for the balance of the night. But he would inevitably run into friends at the Skyview, and he knew everybody at the Cockpit. He wanted to be alone on this night. He wasn’t sure why, or maybe he didn’t want to face the reason. Nevertheless, he had no inclination to eat in his apartment. He never did that. After spending days or weeks in the belly of a spacecraft, he needed people around him. Just, hopefully, not any of his colleagues.
He went down to the North Star. And, of course, in difficult times, we never get what we want. Erin Shoma was seated just inside the front door. Erin was an attractive young woman with lush brown hair and beautiful eyes. She worked for one of the game dealers on the Wheel, and she showed up periodically with Preacher Brawley at the Cockpit. She was sitting with three other women when he walked in. She looked up, saw him, and delivered a painful smile.
The host led him past her table, headed for a corner booth. One of the women was talking, something about the presidential race. Erin seemed to be listening while simultaneously studying her napkin.
Jake saw three or four other people he knew, but nobody else seemed to notice his presence at all.
* * *
HE WAS GOING to have to deal with it eventually. So he decided what the hell. He ordered a drink and a sandwich, finished them, and headed for the Cockpit. This was the hangout of choice for employees of the World Space Authority. There were about fifteen people present when Jake walked in. Mostly, they were technical-support people. A few from the admin section. Only one pilot. Some smiled, others nodded, a few looked away. He sat down at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic.
The bartender gave him a thumbs-up. “Glad to see you got back okay, Jake,” she said.
A security officer seated around the curve of the bar formed the words Hi, Jake with his lips and quickly went back to the conversation with the comm op beside him.
The pilot was Rob Clayborn. At this point in his career, Rob did only occasional assignments. He ran the Baumbachner when it was needed, assisting with maintenance and doing periodic flights to Moonbase. When he saw Jake, he came over. “You had us worried,” he said.
Jake nodded. “I think we were all worried, Rob. We lost a good man on that one.”
“Yeah, I know. Can I buy you a drink?”
Rob was probably the smallest pilot in the interstellar force. He barely reached Jake’s shoulders. But he’d received the Collins Medal for disarming one of the antiterraforming lunatics who, a year before, had gotten a gun aboard a shuttle. He wondered how Rob would have reacted had he been present when Joshua started talking about going down to the cargo hold?
There wasn’t room for them to sit together at the bar, so they ordered and retreated to a table. Rob wanted to talk about the Gremlin rescue, which they did until Jake was able to change the subject. “How’s life on the Bomb?” It was shorthand on the Wheel for the Baumbachner.
“Okay, I guess. I’m getting ready to retire.”
“I’m sorry to hear it, Rob.”
“Julie’s gotten tired of the routine up here. And I have to admit that I’m bored with the job. Kosmik offered me a slot, but that would mean being away weeks at a time. Well, you know how that is. If I start that, Julie’s going to see a lawyer.”