“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.
Five passengers and the captain of the Vigilant, which disappeared without a trace during a mission to Aldebaran.
William Kostner, lost near VanMaanen’s Star. And Leonard McCutcheon, only twenty-five when he’d died during a lightning strike while trying to get his crew to safety.
There was space for more names, for heroes yet to come. She imagined Priscilla Hutchins listed there. When the Buckner Asteroid hit the Wheel, she stayed behind so others could live.
She stopped by the Galileo Fountain. Benches circled the area, and she sat for a while, listening to the sound of the water, and of the wind in the trees.
* * *
THE ACADEMY OFFICES were located inside the Volcker Building. She walked into a lobby. An AI greeted her and asked her business. “My name’s Hutchins,” she said. “I’d like to speak with someone about obtaining a position with the Academy Project.”
“May I ask specifically which type of position you’re seeking, Ms. Hutchins?”
“I’m an interstellar pilot.”
“One moment, please. You may sit if you wish.”
She settled onto a divan. Framed photos of unworldly landscapes and gleaming interstellars filled the walls. Two windows looked out over the campus. Music was playing in the background, a tune Priscilla remembered from her childhood.
Then a small, middle-aged man with a smile appeared. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, which told her immediately how this would end. “Ms. Hutchins,” he said, “I’m glad to meet you. My name’s Barkley. Why don’t you come on back for a minute?”
He led the way down the corridor and ushered her into a modest office. More interstellar pictures on the walls, and a photo on a desk of Barkley, a woman, and three kids.
They sat down on a couple of plastic chairs, and he asked if she would like some coffee. She passed, and he nodded. “I understand you’d like to sign on with us as a pilot.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I’d like very much to work for the Academy.”
“Yes. Of course.” The smile faded. “I wish I could offer you some encouragement, Ms. Hutchins. Unfortunately, we only have three full-time pilots. Occasionally, we pick up someone else for a special mission, but we just don’t have a regular position open at the moment. I’ll be happy to add you to our list of applicants. If—when there’s an opening, we’ll get in touch with you.”
* * *
ANOTHER OF THOSE who’d received accreditation with her, Mukarram Fakhouri, had been picked up by Celestial Transit. Two of the cadets had signed on with United Transport, one had replaced her with Kosmik, and one was still looking. Priscilla was already on United Transport’s list of hopefuls. She sent copies of her résumé to Celestial and to the Stellar Express. And that was it. There was no other corporate entity operating off the Wheel. Stellar Express called her in for an interview, and they actually seemed optimistic at first, but they, like Stargate, apparently just needed time to check the record. They declined without explaining why.
She was sitting in the Skyview on that final evening before the licensing ceremony, finishing off a dish of strawberries and listening to recorded piano music, when Frank Irasco came in, spotted her, and walked over. Irasco was the assistant director of Union Operations. “Mind if I join you, Priscilla?”
“Sure, Mr. Irasco. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, thanks. How about you?”
“I’m okay.” She didn’t like Irasco. He always looked as if he understood quite clearly that he was superior to everybody else in the room. Mostly, it was the smug smile and the eyes. Despite his short stature, he always seemed to be looking down at you. Jake hadn’t liked him, either. But at the moment, she could use a friend.
“I heard what happened over at Kosmik,” he said. “Have you signed on with anyone else yet?”
“No, I haven’t.”
Irasco ordered coffee and a grilled salmon dinner. Then he turned back to Priscilla. “I assume you know that we’re being sued.”
“The Space Authority? No, I wasn’t aware of that. Why?”
“Joshua’s wife. She wants twenty million. It’s a waste of her time, of course.”
“I would think so. Her husband worked for Kosmik.”
“She’s suing them, too.”
“Why is she after the WSA?”
“She thinks our response time was too slow.”
“We got there as quickly as we could.”
“She has a point, though. We responded with the closest ship. That was you. We should have sent out something with more capacity. Something that could have taken everyone off. The Kruger could have done that.”
“But would it have gotten there in time to evacuate them before the Gremlin went down?”
“Well, that’s the problem. It probably would have. If it hadn’t, we’d be getting sued for not sending the closer vehicle. In fact, we should have sent both. The truth is that we screwed up. But in any case, the legal action’s a waste of time.”
“Why?”
“There’s a no-liability clause. It’s in everybody’s contract. So she won’t get anything. But when it’s all over, we’re not going to look very competent. That’s why she’s doing it.”
Priscilla sighed. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
His coffee arrived. It was, of course, in a cup designed to accommodate the centripetal swing of the station. He tasted it. “I have an offer for you, Priscilla. I need a staff assistant. You know your way around here pretty well. It doesn’t pay much, and you probably won’t get off the station, but you’ll be close by if something develops.”
She hesitated. “Mr. Irasco, did you see the Leon Carlson statement?”
He nodded. “I saw it. Terrible thing, that. I still can’t believe it.”
“Is he right? Is the WSA complicit?”
“You mean about helping Kosmik? Of course it’s true. That’s why we’re here. Our job is to assist anybody who’s traveling off-world. That’s the whole point of our existence. As long as they’re not breaking the law, we are bound to do what we can to help.”
“Regardless of what they’re doing?”
His eyes closed, and he shook his head. “Priscilla, we aren’t empowered to make ethical judgments.” He looked suddenly tired, and she realized he’d been having this conversation on a regular basis since Carlson went viral. “Look, we have no choice in these things. What they’re doing does not break any laws. Until they do, we can’t refuse to assist them.”