“Okay,” she said.
“Now, let me ask you again: Would you like to work for us?”
“Mr. Irasco, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure I’d be a good fit for a staff job.”
“Priscilla, I want a backup pilot. Somebody who can jump into a ship and get things done if there’s a problem. We’ve been taking a beating because we don’t have that capability. It doesn’t look very good when the Authority has an emergency, and we don’t have a pilot available.”
“Mr. Irasco, you don’t have a ship available.”
“Call me Frank. And sure we have a ship available. We have the Bomb.” Priscilla couldn’t resist a tolerant smile. The Baumbachner was a maintenance vehicle. It had a Hazeltine drive, but it was ancient. And it was the ugliest ship in service. “Jake tells us you’re pretty good. Understand, you probably won’t really be going anywhere. Maybe to Moonbase once in a while. Or out to L2. The reality is we almost never have any emergencies. Despite this recent series of events. But I want to be able to say that at least we have a pilot ready if we need one. Mostly, what you’ll be doing is sitting in front of a computer. And we’re going to set you up to do some tours, too. We don’t have those yet, but we want to start them.”
“Tours of what, Frank? The solar system?”
“The space station. If you can live with that, and the possibility of being on hand to respond to an emergency, we’d be happy to offer you a position.”
* * *
PRISCILLA’S JOURNAL
It’s an office job. But I guess I’m going to have to take what I can get. I just never would have believed that I’d wind up sitting behind a desk on the Wheel. Tomorrow, I’ll take a picture of the Baumbachner and send it to Jake. With my love.
—December 21, 2195
Chapter 22
PRISCILLA CALLED HOME that evening—it was midafternoon in Princeton—to let her mother know she had picked up a staff job. Mom tried to sound enthusiastic, but what came through was relief that her daughter wouldn’t be hanging out near black holes. “At least,” she said, “you’ve got something. I’m happy for you.” She passed the news to someone else. Then: “You know, I’ve never been excited about any of this, Priscilla. But in the end, I can’t believe you won’t get everything you want.”
The following morning she reported to the Yuri Gagarin Ballroom at the Starlight to receive her certification. She wore the blue-and-silver uniform of an Authority pilot but without the symbolic rocket clip. She joined the other five cadets, who were seated on a small stage. They constituted the year’s entire class of newly minted interstellar pilots. There was an audience of about sixty-five people, mostly parents and family members.
Jake showed up for the ceremony, not wearing a uniform even though he was entitled to do so. He sat down in the rear. When their eyes met, he gave her a thumbs-up. Moments later, she was shocked when her mother came in, accompanied by Uncle Phil, Cousin Ed, and his bride, Miriam. Incredible! How on earth had they gotten Mom onto the shuttle? It was probably a good thing Miriam was there in case she passed out. But her mother looked as happy as Priscilla could remember ever having seen her. They raised their hands in guarded waves. Priscilla returned a smile.
Then, finally, Patricia McCoy entered, swept down the aisle, mounted the stage, and took her place behind the lectern.
Patricia provided a tall, smooth, commanding presence. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “welcome to the twenty-first certification ceremony of the World Space Authority. Today, we will recognize those who have qualified during the past six months as interstellar pilots. These are the people who will literally take us to the stars.” She glanced at the cadets, seated to her right. “Our future lies on other worlds, places where no one has walked, places that, at this time, no one has yet seen. These young women and men will show us the way.” She described qualities needed to pilot interstellars and stated that the six cadets on the stage had demonstrated those qualities. She went on in that vein for several minutes.
Jake remained expressionless throughout, his eyes seemingly gazing at another place.
“When we talk about the cosmos,” Patricia said, “we don’t know how far, in the end, we’ll be able to go. But we can be certain that as long as we continue to produce young men and women like these, the road lies open.” She looked across the stage at the candidates. “Please stand and raise your right hands.”
They got up and raised their hands.
“Repeat after me.” The audience leaned forward as one. Mom’s eyes touched hers. “I solemnly swear to abide by the code of conduct prescribed in the official statutes.”
Priscilla, with the others, delivered the line and waited.
“To use all due care to maintain the ship entrusted to me and to complete the mission.”
Again, they followed the lead.
“And especially to make every effort to ensure the safety of the passengers and crew who are given over to my care.”
When they’d finished, the room was silent for a few moments. Then Patricia said, “The pilots may be seated. We will now present the certificates.” That brought a stirring in the audience. “Visitors will please hold their applause until we are done.” She reached down and produced a scroll. “Carlos Ashwan.” He was from Vera Cruz. “Carlos, please come forward.”
She handed him the scroll and the rocket pin that designated his grade, and shook his hand. “Congratulations, Captain Ashwan. Make us proud.”
He accepted the document and returned to his seat.
“Mukarram Fakhouri.” Patricia waited with a smile while he approached. “Perform to your capabilities, Captain Fakhouri, and all will be well.”
Priscilla knew she was next. She tensed.
“Priscilla Hutchins.”
She stood, went to the lectern, and accepted her scroll.
“Thank you,” Priscilla said.
Patricia nodded. “Captain Hutchins,” she said, “continue as you’ve begun.”
When the ceremony had ended, her mom, Uncle Phil, and Ed engulfed her. Miriam smiled her approval. They presented her with a diamond necklace in honor of the occasion. Eventually, Jake also got to her. “Congratulations, kid,” he said. “Enjoy yourself. And call me if you need anything.”
* * *
THE CELEBRATION HAD barely begun when the whispering started. Priscilla was sitting with her family when Carlos came over. “You hear about it yet?” he asked.
“Hear about what?”
“The news reports. They’ve got more stuff about the animals.”
There was an HV in the ballroom. Mack Keever, one of the network anchors, was running images of alien creatures, some fur-bearing, some reptilian, many with feathers, all with eyes that somehow connected them with the animals one might see in a shelter. Except that these were dying.
“It’s all over the Internet,” Keever said. “And it’s not only animals.” They switched over to desiccated forests. “This is what we’re doing on other worlds.”
* * *
PRISCILLA’S JOURNAL
This was the day I’ve been looking forward to as long as I can remember. I’d expected it would be the happiest day of my life. It has been happy. But there’s a shadow over it.
—December 22, 2195
Chapter 23
THEY PARTIED INTO the night. Mom had a glorious time, Uncle Phil drank a little too much, and Ed turned an ankle trying to dance in the near-nonexistent gravity. Miriam formed what would turn out to be a lifetime friendship with Denise Peifer, Drake’s sister.