Starhawk (32 page)

There were gasps and cries from the people in the room. “Please don't.” “For God's sake—” “You can't do this.” “The kids.”

“Please, Mr. Addison.”

Abel was talking into the mike, nodding, looking back at Patricia. “Frank,” he said, “they're telling us the broadcast is going out.”

Frank took a couple of steps forward. Stopped when James held out a cautionary palm. “Whoever that is on your link,” he said, “they're giving you bad information. You're still on.”

James stared back at him. “You'd have no qualms about lying, would you?”

“For God's sake, I'm not interested in putting all these lives at risk. You're getting the coverage you asked for.”

James poked at his link. Looked up. Nodded. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “He's telling me I'm back on. But don't try that again.” He returned to speech mode: “There are a lot of us who are not going to stand by while these people destroy entire worlds. It's just starting, and God knows where it will lead. Nobody will benefit from it except outfits like Kosmik. I am warning the people who are behind this: Shut it down, or we will shut it down for you. And shut you down as well.” He drew his right index finger across his throat, signaling that he was finished.

“That's it?” asked Frank, who was taking no chances.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

James looked around the room. “Everybody may leave now. But go slowly, and don't anybody get close to me.”

The diners cautiously got up from their tables and started for the doors, where they piled up, waiting for them to open. When finally they did, they hurried out until there remained only Frank, James, and a couple of security people.

“Time to go,” said James.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I'm going to extract a price from you people, something to remind you about what we've been talking about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Get out of here and seal the doors.”

“Don't do it, James.”

“Get out, Frank. Or you'll go with me.”

Frank hesitated, took a step toward the exit, and stopped. He signaled the guards to leave and close the doors. Then he turned back to James. “If you kill us, nobody will ever take you seriously.”

“Get out.” The guards stared at them from outside the window. “Frank,” said James, “you've got two minutes.”

Patricia looked around the small room, eyes desperate. “We need a distraction.”

“The outside projector,” said Priscilla. “Why don't we throw a comet at him?”

Patricia leaned over the mike. “Frank, we're going to try to distract him.”

Abel was reaching for a tab. But Patricia pulled his hand away. “No,” she said. “Scare him and he'll probably loosen his grip. We need something to make him tighten up.” That steady gaze fell on Priscilla. “Abel, do we have an imager?”

He started searching through a cabinet while James repeated his warning. “Here,” he said, producing one from a drawer filled with cable, tools, and instruments.

Patricia took it, pointed it at Priscilla, and tied it into the console. “I need you to do something that'll catch his attention.”

“What are we talking about?”

“Use your imagination, Priscilla. Distract him.”

“Oh.” She hesitated.

“But that's all right. Take your time. Why don't you wait until the bomb goes off?”

Priscilla took a deep breath. She undid the top three or four buttons of her blouse.

“Okay, Abel,” said Patricia. “Let's do it.”

“Listen, please,” said Frank. “Think about what you're doing here.”

James stared back at him. “Are you serious, you idiot? You think I'd come here like this without having thought about it long and hard?” He raised both hands over his head, still holding the trigger down. “Get out. Last chance, Frank.”

 * * * 

PRISCILLA HAD NEVER
thought of herself as having pouty lips and smoky eyes. But on that occasion she went all out. She smiled provocatively for the imager and saw her projection appear outside the long window, where usually diners and tourists saw only asteroids and interstellars. Unfortunately, James had his back turned.

But he must have noticed Frank suddenly staring over his shoulder. He turned toward the window and his eyes went wide. Priscilla looked straight into the lens, wishing she could see him from outside the portal so she could look directly into those eyes. She formed the word
hello
, and inhaled.

And she watched, hoping Frank would make his move, listening for the explosion that seemed inevitable. But her boss only stood quietly until James turned back to him. “Who's she?” he asked.

“One of our pilots. She thinks I'm crazy for staying in here with you. She was hoping I'd take advantage of the distraction and try to grab the bomb.”

“Why didn't you do it?”

“It wouldn't have worked. No way I could hold your hand down on the trigger until help got in here. But more important, you've been in here talking about the value of life. Okay, I'm betting I have a better chance if I just leave you to do the rational thing.”

“The rational thing is to blow this place to hell.”

“James, you haven't hurt anyone yet. Moreover, you've become a celebrity. You'll be able to do more damage to the terraformers by staying alive. And if you kill me, and yourself, and maybe some of these other people, the message you just delivered becomes a joke.”

James turned back to the image beyond the window. And he laughed. “There's an element to all this I hadn't considered.”

“What's that?”

He looked at the bomb. “If I change my mind, how do I get rid of this thing?”

 * * * 

THE ART MAJESKI SHOW

(Frank Irasco, guest)

MAJESKI:
All right, Frank. Did you know what was coming?

IRASCO:
I knew they were going to try to distract him. But I had no idea how (
laughs
). I thought they might try having someone in a clown suit show up in the concourse and start jumping up and down.

MAJESKI:
You
are
kidding, right?

IRASCO:
To be honest, Art, I couldn't think of anything that seemed as if it would have a chance of working. The person you
should
be interviewing is Priscilla Hutchins.

MAJESKI:
The woman who was floating outside the window, right?

IRASCO:
Yes. She's the one. And Patricia McCoy. The director.

MAJESKI:
Well, good for them. But tell me, Frank, what about the terraforming? Are we really killing off whole worlds? Is that true?

IRASCO:
I'm not an expert, Art, but my understanding is that there
is
a risk. We just don't know enough yet. We might wipe out some critical part of the food chain. If that were to happen, yes, I suppose they could lose everything. Though it would take a while.

MAJESKI:
One other question, Frank. I was watching the broadcast. It did
not
get interrupted. So what really happened?

IRASCO:
My understanding is that individual stations have control over what they show. Sometimes they use the network feed, sometimes they don't. The station where his accomplice was reporting from apparently went to something local. Though I can't imagine a more riveting show.

PRISCILLA'S ATTITUDE TOWARD
Frank had completely changed. When he called her into his office that afternoon, she felt awed in his presence.
Who are you? What have you done with Frank Irasco?
“That was a pretty gutsy performance out there today,” she said, trying not to sound obsequious.

“Part of the job, Priscilla.” A box of jelly donuts was secured to a side table. “But yes, I'll admit that was a scary few minutes.” He picked up the box and offered it to her.

She took one. And also got some coffee.

“We have another mission for you,” he said. “I don't know whether you were aware of this or not, but McGruder's bringing his campaign here. To the station.”

“I saw that,” she said. “You're not going to ask me to go shake his hand again, are you?”

“No,” he said.

“Good.”

“I'm going to ask you to be his pilot. But it's okay. No long flight. He's only going to Iapetus.”

“You're kidding.”

“He wants to see the monument.”

“Why? I can't believe it would help him politically.”

Frank couldn't restrain a laugh. “You're terribly cynical for one so young, Priscilla. I hate to think what you'll be like after you put on a few more miles. Anyhow, three or four members of his team will be going with him. They'll get out, take some pictures, get back in the ship, and come home. That's all there is to it.”

“Why on earth does he want to go out there in the middle of the campaign? What's he expect to gain?”

“I don't know whether you've been following the news, Priscilla, but his campaign isn't going well. He's perceived as not very exciting. As stuck with old ideas and unable to adapt to a rapidly changing world. He probably
will
get the Gold Party nomination, but he's going up against a sitting president. We both know Norman's not very popular; but, nevertheless, incumbents are hard to beat. The only reason McGruder's leading the nomination fight is because nobody else of any substance really wanted into the ring. They're all waiting for 2200. He needs to shake things up. And I guess this seemed to be a way to do it. It won't hurt him, by the way, to be seen traveling with the hero who brought the schoolkids home.”

“That's a little over the top,” she said.

“I calls 'em the way I sees 'em.”

“You're saying he asked for me?”

Frank's jaw twitched. “Yes. He did.”

“I'm not excited about hauling politicians around.”

“I thought he was very nice to you when he was here.”

“He was. But I'm not inclined to become part of his campaign. That's what he did last time.”

“You're a pilot, Priscilla. It's what you do. Haul people who need hauling.” He closed his eyes for a moment. Then: “We need you to do this. Look, he may become the next president. If that happens, we need to do everything we can to get him on our side.”

“Even if he thinks we should be shut down?”

“We'd have a better chance of dissuading him if we treat him well now. Anyhow, he can't be any worse for us than Norman.”

“Frank, even if the voters were dumb enough to put him in, he wouldn't be able to shut us down. There are a few other countries involved in the Authority.”

“Come on, Priscilla. I'm asking you to take one for the team.” He picked up one of the donuts and took a bite. “You're always talking about how you want to sit on the bridge instead of in your office. Okay. Do it. And don't screw it up.”

“I assume we won't be using the
Starhawk
?”

He looked momentarily puzzled. “Oh, you mean the
Bomb
? Priscilla, you do tend to be a trifle sarcastic. But no, we'll want something a little more classy. Fortunately, the
Thompson
's available.”

 * * * 

THE
SYDNEY THOMPSON
was bigger, more spacious, and considerably more elegant than the
Baumbachner
. Of course, the
Ba
um
bachner
paled in significance to some of the fishing boats along the Jersey shore. Priscilla was seated on the ship's bridge running status checks while her passengers' luggage was being placed in their cabins by the handlers when Yoshie Blakeslee called.
“The governor's arrived,”
she said.
“They're ready to board.”

“Okay, Yoshie. The air lock is open. Send them up the tunnel.”

“They want you to be waiting at the hatch, Priscilla.”

“I'm a little busy at the moment.”

“Frank says do it.”

“Okay.” She got up, straightened her cap, went back through the cabin, and assumed a position outside the air lock. There were voices in the tunnel. Then laughter. And finally, the passengers themselves. The governor was flanked by a woman and three guys. He was looking back over his shoulder, waving at a group of trailing reporters. Then he turned, saw her, and broke into the broad smile that had been enchanting millions during the campaign. That, despite her dislike for politicians, had impressed her during their first meeting.

He came forward and shook her hand while one of the males took pictures. “Priscilla,” he said, “it's so good to see you again. I'm glad they were able to fit you into the schedule.”

The guy with the imager took more pictures. He was older than the others, with an extended belly and a ridge of gray hair circling his skull. “That's Al Devlin,” said McGruder. “He's one of my staff.” The reporters were taking pictures, too, and he shook her hand some more. “I read about your flight out to that place in the middle of nowhere. You lead an exciting life, Priscilla.” He pointed at the woman. “This is Vesta D'Ambrosia, my campaign manager.” She was tall, middle-aged, with bored eyes. She did not give the impression she was anxious to see Iapetus.

“Hello, Priscilla,” she said, extending her hand.

McGruder glanced at the other two guys. “These gentlemen are my official protection, Michael and Cornelius.”

They both nodded. Priscilla welcomed them to the
Thompson
, answered a few questions, and posed for some more pictures. The reporters wanted to follow them through the air lock, but Priscilla, because of the security issue, kept them outside and, after apologizing, closed the hatch. She showed her passengers to their quarters. Within minutes, everyone was back in the passenger cabin.

Vesta was conservatively dressed in dark slacks and a white blouse. She stood looking down at Priscilla. “Is this flight really going to take three or four
days
?” She emphasized the last word, as though a reasonable flight time would have been measured in hours.

Michael, probably in his late forties, was easily the older of the two agents. He asked Priscilla how long she'd been on board, whether she knew of anyone else's having been on the ship that morning, what security measures were in place to ensure that no one could have boarded the
Thompson
surreptitiously, and so on. In the meantime, his partner Cornelius wandered through the ship, armed with what must have been a bomb detector.

Priscilla answered the questions and excused herself. “Time to get moving,” she said. “We'll be heading out in a few minutes. I'll let you know when we're ready to go.” She went up onto the bridge and was surprised when Vesta followed.

“I was anxious to meet you, Priscilla,” Vesta said. “The governor thinks very highly of you.”

“Thanks, Ms. D'Ambrosia. I'm happy to hear it.”

“Vesta, please. We're going to be in here for a while. Might as well go to first names.”

“Yes, ma'am. Umm, Vesta.”

“One thing, Priscilla. The governor has a tendency sometimes to take risks. While we're on this trip, I don't want anything to happen to him. If he wants to do anything that seems at all to you to constitute hazardous behavior, do not allow it. Understood?”

“Of course.” Priscilla felt more intimidated than she had been by the governor. “We wouldn't want to lose him.”

“No, we certainly would not.”

The bridge link sounded. “Excuse me.” Priscilla leaned over the mike. “Go ahead, Yoshie.”

“You're clear to go, Priscilla.”

“Roger that.” She opened the allcom. “Attention, everybody. We're five minutes from launch. If you've anything that needs to be taken care of, please do it now. When you're ready, take a seat, secure the harness, and do not release it until I advise you that it is safe to do so. That will be approximately forty minutes into the flight. If anyone has a problem, push the red button at the lower right of your display.”

Vesta looked down at the right-hand seat. “Mind if I sit up here?”

“Sure. If you like.” One by one, the safety lamps turned green, indicating everyone was belted in.

“All right, gentlemen, Vesta, we are on our way.” Priscilla released the ship from its magnetic clamps and let the AI, Louie, guide the
Thompson
out past two docked vehicles and through the launch doors. Then she turned slowly in the direction of Saturn and began to accelerate.

 * * * 

AS THEY APPROACHED
the jump point, Priscilla explained to her passengers what they were about to do. None of them had been in Barber space before or, for that matter, any farther out than the space station. “The passage is simple enough,” she said. “You probably won't even notice the jump. The only thing you're likely to be aware of is that, if you're looking outside, the stars will seem to go out.” She said nothing about the possibility of an upset stomach, which was not an uncommon feature of the experience, especially for people going through it for the first time. But Jake had told her he knew no better way to ensure passengers would throw up than to warn them that it might happen. A bag was available at each seat if needed.

“Nice view,” Vesta said. Earth and Moon glowed in the sunlight.

“I doubt I'll ever get used to it,” said Priscilla.

They indulged in small talk for a few minutes. Vesta had grown up in Oregon, graduated from the University of California Business School, got into politics because of President Goulart, twenty years earlier. “He was trying to control everything,” she said. “Progress stopped dead while he was in office. Everything was run by the bureaucracy. So eventually—”

“You went into politics yourself.”

“Damn right,” she said. “You're probably not aware of it, but the best thing that could happen for the space program would be for the governor to win.”

 * * * 

THEY MADE THE
jump into Barber space with no visible ill effects. “Everybody stay belted,” Priscilla said, speaking over the allcomm.

“Why?” asked Vesta. “There are a few things I need to talk over with the governor.”

“Just hold on a few seconds.”

The sound of the engines shifted a notch higher as the Hazeltine unit cut in. Suddenly, they were floating in the gray mist, with little indication of forward movement. But Vesta was holding her stomach. “What was that?” she asked.

“A transdimensional jump.”

She laughed. “Okay. I know what you're talking about. We're on our way to Saturn. How long—?”

“Hang on,” said Priscilla. “Transition complete. Everybody prep for another jump.” She was enjoying herself. The drone of the engines changed again, and the mist was gone, replaced by a vast globe and a series of rings. “Okay,” she said, “we're
there
.”

Vesta's jaw dropped. An enormous yellow-brown globe filled the sky. And a set of rings. “That's Saturn, right? How could we be here already?”

The rings spread across the sky, dazzling in their brilliance and perfection. Priscilla stared at them, thinking that if a convincing argument for the existence of God could be found, this was it.

“Incredible,” said the governor.

Priscilla wasn't sure whether he was referring to the planet or the rapidity of the flight. It was her first visit also to Saturn, and she was probably as impressed as anyone at how quickly they'd arrived even though she'd known what to expect. But she was careful not to show it.

“I don't understand,” Vesta said. “Why were we talking about three or four days for this?”

“We just did the easy part,” said Priscilla. She went back to the mike. “Everybody stay belted in, please. We'll be making a course correction in the next few minutes. Then you can get up and wander around or whatever. By the way, be careful when you do. We are in a zero-gee environment. It'll take some getting used to.”

 * * * 

“WHERE IS IT?”
asked Vesta.

Priscilla put Iapetus on the display. “We did pretty well. We'll be there in about twenty-seven hours.”

“Good,” she said. “I'm glad to hear it. Can you by any chance make it quicker? There's a presidential campaign on, and whatever time we save—”

“I can, if you want. But if we do that kind of acceleration, we won't be able to get out of our chairs, and nobody will be very comfortable.”

Those expressionless eyes came to life and targeted Priscilla as if she were responsible for any inconvenience. Then the animation faded. “Okay,” she said. “I guess we can live with that.”

Priscilla wondered how she'd have responded if they'd needed three days or so. That would not have been unusual. “So,” she said, “what's the point?”

Vesta frowned. “What's
what
point?”

“Well, as you said, you're running a presidential campaign. What are you doing out here?”

She took her time responding, finally nodding toward the view, the giant planet, the rings, stars probably more brilliant than she'd ever seen them before this day. “The governor has a passion for history. He's always wanted to visit the monument.”