“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? Where’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.”