Starhawk (13 page)

“Lily,” she said, “I need some music.”

“What would you prefer, Priscilla?”

“Rachmaninoff,” she said.

“Are you serious?” Lily sounded shocked.

“Yes. Why, is that a problem?”

“You seem rather young to have a taste for classical music.”

“Put him on the piano,” she said. “Nobody's better.”

“How loud do you want it?”

“Keep it soft. It's for background.” And she started on the first act.

 * * * 

THEN SHE READ
Paper Tiger
, another Woodwell play, a political drama that had won the Americus Award. It had been one of her assignments in college, but Priscilla had not been able to get past the first act. This time she enjoyed it thoroughly. Background music came from Joel Martin, the string guitarist who had brought in a new era a few years back with his light-speed rhythms. She read Woodwell's other plays as well,
Firelight
,
Taking the Plunge
,
Gift Horse
,
The Last Virgin
,
Harmony Island
, and kept going, usually at a rate of two per day. She also read several of his essays, which weren't as much fun as the plays, but they were interesting and helped pass the time.

She talked about her reactions with Lily, who showed, of course, a complete familiarity with Woodwell's work. And that was the problem. She knew all the facts but didn't really grasp what the plays were about. She did not understand why, for example, characters would want to cling to belief systems not supported by evidence. Unlike people, Lily had no fear of being turned off. Or proven wrong.

Each morning, Priscilla arrived on the bridge, asked Lily if anything had changed since the previous night, heard the negative response, and went back to the passenger cabin, where she had breakfast. Two hours later she was in the workout area. She hadn't expected to miss Jake as much as she did. Or miss having
somebody
on board. Thank God, she thought, for Monika Wolf.

 * * * 

PRISCILLA'S JOURNAL

This is the first time I've been out here by myself. I thought I understood about the solitude, when I was alone with a few other cadets, or with Jake. But when there's actually nobody else in the ship, nobody within light-years, it takes on a whole new aspect. I can't help wondering whether, eventually, being alone under these conditions might not have a deleterious effect on emotional stability.

—December 5, 2195

JAKE WAS SITTING
with Alicia at Burstein's German Restaurant in Roanoke, enjoying sauerbraten and red cabbage, when she surprised him. “Are you doing anything tomorrow evening?” she asked.

“Well,” he said, “I can't say I have any plans that can't be broken. Why? What's going on?”

“I was wondering if you'd be interested in watching a basketball game?”

That sounded as if she had a nephew or someone playing for one of the local high schools. The prospect of spending two hours watching teenagers run up and down the court wasn't exactly appealing. “Who's playing?” he asked, making no real effort to hide his feelings.

She delivered a mischievous smile. “
I
am.”

“
You
are?”

“I play for the Christiansburg Hawks. We're playing Pulaski tomorrow evening.”

“I didn't know you were a basketball player.”

She produced a ticket and held it out for him. “It's at the Pulaski Recreation Center. If you're interested.”

“Sure,” he said. “I love watching beautiful women play basketball.”

 * * * 

THEY DROVE OVER
in Jake's car. “I don't usually start,” she said.

“They put you in when the game's on the line.”

“Right. You should also know that the Jets—that's the Pulaski team—are in first place.”

“And you guys are right behind them?”

“I wish. No, we're down in the middle of the pack.”

“Well, knock this crew over, and I'll treat for drinks afterward.”

“How about if we don't knock them over?”

“That's not exactly a championship attitude, Alicia.”

She laughed. “Call it reality.”

Maybe it would be just what he needed, now that he had a second death to feel guilty about. He was trying to persuade himself Leon's suicide wasn't his fault, either. It wasn't. Not really. But had he met his responsibility and turned him over to the Feds, he'd still be alive.

“You okay?” asked Alicia.

“I'm fine.” He hadn't told her about Leon's visit, hadn't told anyone. He'd hated Leon after he found out
he
was the culprit. He'd never forget those terrible hours on the
Copperhead
while they waited for news of the
Thompson
. And the moment when he'd stood silent while Joshua went down to the cargo bay. Nobody had actually confronted him about that. Even Patricia had ducked. Or tried to. But she'd been the one who had framed the words that had cut him so deeply: “To be clear, nobody's blaming you for what happened.”

Leon's body remained in the hands of the FBI. His church refused to provide a memorial ceremony because he'd died by his own hand. (Apparently it had been an overdose of some kind.) But his family announced there would be a farewell event at a veterans' club in Vineland, New Jersey.

He was thinking about attending. It was ridiculous. But he
wanted
to go. Maybe, he thought, it would give him some release from the dark shadows that haunted his nights. Leon, the Leon who'd been a friend for more than fifteen years, would not have deliberately harmed anyone. And he could not forget the desperation of that visit the day before he'd ended it. There was, in the end, no way he could not attend. “No, Alicia,” he said, “I'm fine. Couldn't be better.”

 * * * 

SNOW HAD BEGUN
falling during the ride to Pulaski, and there was an inch or more on the streets when they arrived at the recreation center. It was the first storm of the season. He left her off at the front door, parked, and joined a decent-sized crowd inside.

The Pulaski team was already on the court. They looked pretty good. In any way you wanted to interpret that. And a couple of minutes after he sat down, they were joined by the Hawks. Jake recognized one of the other women who'd been at Alicia's table the night they'd met. He began to realize he was going to have a seriously enjoyable time. Finally.

During the warm-up, Alicia stood outside the foul circle and sank some jump shots. She was better than he'd expected. So were her teammates. He noted also that the basketball court looked considerably longer than he remembered from his high-school days.
Good thing I'm not out there.

Approximately two hundred people were present to watch the game. Whistles blew, and the crowd listened, with some clapping, as the starting five for the Hawks were introduced. The loudest reaction came for their center, who must have been six and a half feet tall and exceedingly mobile. How could they possibly be only a mediocre team with that woman on their side? Then it was the Jets' turn, and the crowd applauded and whistled.

The answer to that was that the Jets, at least, had a balanced offense and two players who were blindingly fast.

The Hawks fell behind early but stayed close. Alicia got into the game midway through the first quarter. She was a guard. Jake was impressed with her running and ball handling. She scored twice on inside jump shots, and passed off for a couple more scores. Not bad for a backup.

The Jets increased their lead to seven as the game approached halftime. The Hawks got most of it back with a pair of three-pointers. They'd stolen the ball and were headed back down court for a third try when Jake's link vibrated. Usually, when he was out on the town, he shut it off. But he'd forgotten. He glanced at it. Unknown caller. “Yes?” he said, trying to get over the noise.

He heard a woman's voice:
“Captain Loomis?”

“Speaking.”

But the place was getting loud, and it was impossible to hear. “Hold on,” he said. He sighed, got up, and left the gym. Out near the front doors, he apologized and asked if the caller was still there.

“Yes,”
she said. The noise level from the gym rose to a roar. Then faded.
“Can you hear me, Captain Loomis?”

“I hear you.” He walked out into the street.

“I'm Sandra Coates. I'm calling you for the Astro Society. We'd very much like you to be the guest speaker at our monthly luncheon next week. Would that be possible?”

“Who's the Astro Society?”

“Oh, yes,”
she said.
“I should have explained. It's a group of academics and scientists. We have a branch in Roanoke. We'd love to have you come and have lunch with us.”

“Why me, Sandra? What would you want me to talk about?”

“Some of your experiences with the interstellars. What you've seen. Where you think we should be going.”

“Where in Roanoke?”

“At Carmody's Restaurant. It would be next Wednesday. We start at noon.”

 * * * 

THE HAWKS MANAGED
to grab the lead just before halftime. Alicia started the third quarter and the game seesawed through the balance of the evening into the final six minutes. But then the Jets, fueled by perfect ball handling and a withering shooting game, took control of the flow. They applied full-court pressure, shut down the Hawks' offense, and even neutralized their center. When the final buzzer sounded, they led by nine. But Jake was impressed by the level of play on both sides. Especially by the fact that no one on the Christiansburg team showed any inclination to give up. The crowd cheered and yelled and, at the end, stood and applauded both teams.

And Jake left the building realizing he was in love with Alicia. How could you not be with someone who could break down court the way she did?

 * * * 

THE CARLSON MEMORIAL
was scheduled the following day. He flew to Philadelphia, rented a car, and crossed the Delaware into South Jersey. He was early, so he stopped for a snack. An hour later, he pulled up in front of the Veterans Association Hall just off Valentine Avenue in Vineland. It was a squat, gray structure, originally intended as a manufacturing site. But it had been reconfigured for social events. There were about a dozen cars in the parking lot.

A middle-aged couple were loitering at the entrance. The woman appeared to be wiping her eyes. They went inside as Jake climbed out of the automobile.

Just inside the door, a register had been placed on a table. A young woman sat behind it. Jake signed in, and the woman thanked him for coming. A lectern had been set up on the far wall, which was dominated by a flag, with its sixty-three stars. Two sections of folding chairs faced the lectern. Approximately twenty people were present, most already seated. He was surprised to see Clyde Truscott, the Union chaplain, standing off to one side talking with a few people.

Then it was time to start. Quiet, soulful string music seeped into the room. Those who were still standing took their seats. And a man who resembled Carlson got up and advanced to the lectern.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “For those who don't know me, I'm Shockley Carlson, Leon's father. I'd like to thank you for coming. This is a difficult time for all of us, made especially painful because of the nature of what happened. Anyone who knew Leon knew he would never have deliberately injured anyone. He constantly went out of his way to help other people. During his college years, he was a volunteer at the Vineland animal shelter. He used to joke that if you took care of animals in trouble, you got extra credit at salvation.” He paused and looked up at the flag. “Ironically, it was his sense of humanity and decency that got him into so much trouble.

“I'm not saying that what he did wasn't wrong. There's no way I can defend his action. What I
am
saying is that the Leon I knew, that I suspect we all knew, wasn't malevolent. What he did was commit a serious error in judgment, a result of desperation brought on by what's been happening on Selika. He was heartbroken that his actions resulted in the death of Captain Miller, who'd been both a colleague and a friend. He admitted that he'd made a terrible mistake, and he's paid for it.

“Another friend of his, the Rev. Clyde Truscott, who is the chaplain at the space station, has asked for an opportunity to speak with us. Reverend?”

Truscott was a small man with a big voice. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we've lost a good friend, a member of our family, under the worst of circumstances. The one fortunate thing we can be sure of is that, whatever we might believe about an afterlife, we know that Leon is in a better place now than he was a few days ago.”

 * * * 

WHEN IT WAS
over, they filled a table with sandwiches and strawberries and snacks. Jake looked for a chance to express condolences to Leon's parents. They seemed surprised when he gave them his name, but they thanked him for coming and apologized for what he'd been through. “He was devastated,” his mother said, “by the damage he'd done.”

Jake wandered over to the table, not actually planning to eat so much as doing something other than leaving the building, which was what he wanted to do. He picked up a pretzel, gnawed on it, and began to edge his way toward the door. Then the young lady who'd been overseeing the register was at his side. “Captain Loomis?” she said.

“Yes. What can I do for you?”

She smiled. “My name's Olivia Patterson. You probably don't remember me. I'm Leon's sister.”

He did vaguely remember a sister. “Of course,” he said. “I knew I'd seen you before.”

She had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and good features made doubly attractive by their vulnerability. “I was happy when you came in, that you were able to find time for us. I wish Leon could have known that, if something like this happened, you would still come.”

Jake looked into her eyes. She seemed nervous. “What do you mean, Olivia? I'm an old friend. Why—?”

“He thought, because of all this, that you—” She stopped, managed to look even more uncomfortable, and continued: “He thought you would hold it against him. The other captain's death. He didn't think you'd forgive him. Didn't think
anybody
from the Wheel would ever forgive him. Wouldn't hate him for what happened.”

“It wouldn't really have been up to me to forgive him, Olivia.”

“I probably used the wrong word, Captain Loomis.”

“
Jake
will work fine.”

“Jake. I guess I should have said that he didn't believe you could overlook it. That you could recognize he'd screwed up but let it go.”

“I'm sorry he felt that way.”

“I'm glad you came. He would have been relieved to know you would be here. He knew his reputation was ruined with the pilots, but he said
you
were the one who was always actually
there
. And he wanted you to tell him it was okay. If that makes any sense.”

“Sure it does. And I'm here. He was a good man. I know that. We all do.”

“I'm so glad to hear you say it, Jake. I tried to talk him into going to see you. To tell you how he felt. But he thought it would be useless. I wish with all my heart that he'd done it, that he'd talked with you. If he'd done that, he might be alive today.”

 * * * 

ON THE NET

You read all these idiot science-fiction novels about invading aliens, and it turns out
we're
the ones showing up and killing everything. I can't believe we're doing this.

—Mickey R.

I'm not particularly religious, but I don't think God would approve of what's happening out there. And I know there are a lot of people who would say there is no God. But even if that were true, the decent thing to do is to live as if there
were
one. I can't see how we'd go wrong if we did that.

—Louie-in-back

Maybe Carlson had it right. Maybe using a bomb was the only way to get their attention.

—JennOnTheLine

So, Jenn, what you're saying is that it's okay to blow up a bunch of schoolkids who have nothing whatever to do with what you're unhappy about.