Echo (28 page)

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Authors: Jack McDevitt

Tags: #Science Fiction, #General, #Adventure, #Fiction

BOOK: Echo
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I changed and went for a walk in the woods. Something was up in one of the trees, a
korin
, clacking away, then it leaped into the sky, white wings spread under the sun, and I watched it glide gracefully out of sight. I remember thinking how lucky it was.
When I got back home, a few media types were waiting. Why, they asked, had Rachel taken her life? What exactly were Alex and I looking for? What had my conversation with Rachel been about? I had no answers other than that I was trying to talk her out of jumping. As to Sunset Tuttle and the lost aliens, that was pure speculation.
Did we feel responsible for Rachel’s death?
I’m not sure how I responded to that. I recall, vaguely, pushing through the journalists, going inside, and locking the door.
 
An hour later, I called Alex. Were we really going to proceed with the search?
“Yes,”
he said.
“We have no choice.”
“Why not? When did we become journalists?”
“We’re talking about a lot more than that, and you know it.”
He sighed.
“I don’t know why Rachel was so rattled any more than you do. But we can’t just let this go.”
“
I
can.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What are you saying, Chase?”
“I don’t know what went on with her. But as far as I can see, nobody ever got hurt. Until we stuck our noses into it.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“It’s not the way I feel. It’s the reality.”
“We don’t know that. Chase, we’re being blamed for what happened. Rainbow is. I am. I have to be able to show there was a reason.”
Alex is a good-looking guy. A little taller than average, nice features, good smile. But that night he looked
old
. Worn.
“There
has
to be a reason she’s hiding the tablet. And it’s not personal. It can’t be personal. That makes no sense.”
“I understand that. But I don’t care anymore. Enough’s enough.”
“Chase, I’d walk away if I could. I owe you that. But this is—”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“All right. Look, I’ll keep you out of it. I’ll take care of everything myself. I might need you to provide transportation, but otherwise—”
“No,” I said. “You need to find somebody else to do this, Alex. I don’t want to be any part of it.”
“Chase, you’re not leaving?”
We stared at each other. “Yes. I’m leaving. I can’t deal with this anymore.”
TWENTY-TWO
Count that individual extraordinarily fortunate who can make a living doing what he loves.
—Adam Porterro,
Rules for Life
 
 
 
 
 
I packed and was out of the country house next day. Alex came down and stood around looking frustrated and unhappy. When I was ready, he helped carry my gear out to the skimmer and told me he’d hold the job open as long as he could in case I changed my mind.
“I don’t think I’m going to change my mind, Alex.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. In any case, I wanted to say thanks. I’ve enjoyed working with you. And I’m sorry it’s ending like this.”
By that point, I’d been with Rainbow a long time. And in case you’re wondering, it wasn’t just the business with Rachel that drove me out the door. There was a tedium to the job that had begun to weigh on me. I’d been trained to navigate between the stars. Instead, I spent most of my day doing accounting and negotiating with people whose idea of a rousing time was connected with antique clocks. I wrote schedules and chased down spurious leads on old pieces of jewelry.
I was at the beck and call of a guy who made his living by assisting a trade in artifacts that should have been regulated and probably prohibited by law. I was tired of having experts in the field sit down on talk shows and call us vandals and thieves. And I hated the endless round of dinners while we entertained those same narrow, judgmental people.
And I know: Maybe when I got older, I’d become one myself. But in the meantime, I wanted to get out and head for the horizon.
I got hired by Rigel. I’d upgraded my license a year earlier and was qualified to handle some of their larger vehicles. I got the impression they’d have preferred somebody older, and more experienced with the big interstellars. But they had to make do with what was available, so they took me on as a temporary. Within a week I’d begun hauling passengers and cargo on the run to Earth, with layovers at Arkon and Arcturus. I enjoyed it. I hung out on the bridge while the passengers came forward and called me “Captain.” I’d forgotten what that was like. I had a uniform and a brimmed cap, and a crew of four. And I could feel the rumble of the engines in my blood.
It was, I decided, a nice life, a distinct improvement over what I’d been doing. What I should have been doing all along. The money wasn’t close to what I’d been earning with Rainbow. But I loved the sense of freedom.
When I got back to Rimway after the first flight, a message was waiting from Alex. He congratulated me on my new position. And he hadn’t hired a replacement yet. If I wanted my job back, it was still there. With a raise.
I told him thanks, but I was happy where I was. “If you like,” I added, “I can recommend a couple of people, either of whom would be good in the job.”
He didn’t respond.
Robin came up to Skydeck, and we had two days together before I was off again.
 
Actual travel time for the round-trip was only twenty-one days. But the layovers and approaches took their toll. From departure to return required six weeks.
I liked not having a boss. Technically, of course, I did have one: Rigel’s director of operations, but since I almost never saw him, he didn’t really count.
The company set me up on Skydeck in the Starlight Hotel. After the second run, I caught a shuttle groundside. Robin met me at the terminal and took me home. The meeting wasn’t as warm as it had been after my first flight. Which I guess is an understatement. He was distant, and his tone was formal, and I knew what was coming.
We got out of the car and stood at the side of the building, beneath a clutch of trees, looking up at my apartment. The Melony was bright in the sunlight.
“This isn’t going to work,” Robin said.
I’d been rehearsing my answer, assurances that we could find a way, that the current situation wouldn’t last forever, that we should just ride it out. But it all seemed suddenly hollow. “I know,” I said.
“I thought I was having a problem with your working for Alex.” He smiled. It was one of those restrained, tentative smiles. See you around, baby.
“I know this is creating some problems,” I said.
“Creating some problems? Is that what you call it?”
“I’m sorry, Robin.”
“Me, too.”
“Robin—”
“It’s okay. I think maybe this was inevitable. One way or another.”
 
I could see no point in keeping the condo. It was an expense that had no payoff. I had, in effect, moved into the Starlight.
I spent time with Shara, and visited a few friends. Took a ride out to see my folks. Looked into what it would take to put my condo up for sale.
Then I went back to Skydeck. I wandered down to the docking area to look at my ship. It was the
Jack Gonzalez
, a ULS Lightning, with comfortable facilities and a good performance record. I’d never piloted one before going to work for Rigel. But the ship was one of the benefits of my new posting. It provided an exhilaration I’d never felt on the
Belle-Marie
. And I know how this sounds, but at that moment, somehow, it felt like the only friend I had.
The AI was, of course, named Jack. I went on board and talked with him. I can’t remember the substance of the conversation. I recall asking him whether he ever felt alone, and he said not since I’d taken over the helm. This is a pathetic thing to admit, but it was the brightest moment I’d had since getting off the ship almost three days earlier.
So we sat and traded stories. And afterward I retreated to the Pilots’ Club, where I wandered through the place, looking for company.
 
In the morning, my flight attendant was waiting when I got to the
Gonzalez
. His name was Marv, and we talked for a few minutes. About the menu, mostly, which was being changed. Then the passengers began to arrive. Marv greeted them at the door while I took my place on the bridge and began running through my checklist. I caught snatches of the conversation from the passenger cabin. “How far you going?” “You ever been on one of these things before?” “Last time they lost my luggage.”
We were still twenty minutes from launch when I got a call from station ops.
“Chase, there’ll be a slight delay this morning. Lombard and Eun will be late.”
“What happened?”
“They’re in conference. Anticipate delay approximately ten minutes.”
“Ops, I have thirty-seven people on board. We’re going to keep them waiting while Lombard and Eun do a conference?”
“What can I tell you, Chase? Lombard’s a VIP.”
“We can’t tell him we’re leaving on schedule, and he should get his rear end down here?”
“Negative. I’ll let you know when they’re on their way.”
I informed Marv, and finished the checkoff. When the passengers were all in place, all except the VIPs, I got on the intercom and welcomed them on board. “Our first stop will be Arkon,” I told them. “We’ll be in jump status for a bit more than forty-four hours. When we enter hyperspace, you probably won’t notice anything other than the fact there’ll be no stars to look at. It
is
possible you’ll experience a mild tingling, or even an upset stomach. Probably not, though. Most people don’t have any problem with the transition. If you do, let one of the flight attendants know, and we can provide medication. We’ll be making our jump approximately two hours after launch. I’ll let you know when.
“We’re happy to have you with us, and will do everything we can to ensure that you enjoy the flight. Cabins are in the rear of the spacecraft, even numbers on the left, odd on the right. My name is Kolpath. If you need assistance, push the large green button. One other thing, we’ll be a few minutes late getting off. We appreciate your patience, and we thank you for riding Rigel.”
The scheduled departure time came and went. The additional ten minutes passed with no sign of Lombard and Eun.
“They’re still in conference,”
said Ops.
“We’ve got one of our people up there watching them. He’ll let us know as soon as they break up.”
“This is ridiculous,” I said.
“Chase, Lombard’s a big man. He’s on half a dozen boards, and nobody wants to offend him. Just sit tight. It’s not as if you can’t make up the time.”
 
I went back into the passenger cabin and assured everybody that the delay would have no effect on the duration of the flight. I explained that they were free to wander around the ship and that I’d give them five minutes’ warning before departure. But they weren’t happy. Maybe it was because we couldn’t serve breakfast until we were under way. Maybe because they didn’t like being kept waiting. They probably assumed that a shuttle was late coming into the station. I’m not sure how they’d have reacted had they known they were being held up by a couple of guys who just weren’t in a hurry.
When three-quarters of an hour had passed, I got back on the circuit with operations. “Anything yet?”
“They’re still in conference, Chase.”
“Does this happen all the time?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘all the time.’”
“Why don’t these guys buy their own ships?”
“They don’t travel that much, Chase. But when they do—”
“I know. Three cheers for management.”
TWENTY-THREE
The vast majority of conversations are little more than entertainments, digressions, set pieces. Foremost among the few that matter are the ones I have with myself.
—Nolan Creel,
The Arnheim Review
, XIII, 12
 
 
 
 
 
We were an hour and forty minutes late getting under way. Lombard and Eun offered no explanation, no apology, no indication they were even aware of holding up the flight. They simply came on board and behaved as if nothing had happened. I wondered whether they had done it deliberately, thinking it would impress the rest of us with their importance. Or maybe they were trying to impress themselves.
The flight itself was okay. I spent most of my time mingling with the passengers, and even managed to overlook the rudeness of the two VIPs. Eun, though, seemed decent enough. He was the junior guy, and it became rapidly apparent who the troublemaker was.

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