Starhawk (8 page)

THE
THOMPSON
HAD
beaten them into the space station by almost twelve hours. They'd been greeted by a large crowd, and the pictures of the ecstatic homecoming had been relayed to the
Copperhead
. Now,
they
were docking, and the crowd had returned. It appeared to be even louder and more enthusiastic. Priscilla opened the air lock, looked out at them, and waved. People cheered and waved back. Cameras locked in on her. Shahlah and Johara and Drake Peifer were in the crowd. She retreated back inside to make room for the girls. “Just follow the tube,” she said. “Stop when you get to the concourse but don't leave the area.”

Each of them took a moment to say good-bye to Jake, who stood off to one side. They thanked Priscilla and hurried away, delighted to be home. When the last of them had gone, a staff assistant appeared, carrying a small cage. “You wanted this?” she said.

Priscilla took the cage back to her cabin, collected Tawny, and put her inside. The cat didn't exactly approve, but Priscilla had owned two of the animals when she was growing up and knew precisely how to do it. When she came back out, carrying the cat, Jake was still waiting. “Turn her over to General Services,” he said. “They'll take care of her.”

Priscilla shook her head. “I'm not going to do that.”

“What are you going to do?
Keep
her?”

“Yes.”

“And how will you manage that? You won't be around here very much.”

“I can take her home. Back to New Jersey. I'm pretty sure my mom would be willing to take her in.”

“Well,” he said, “your call.”

She looked across at Jake. His bag was secured to one of the seats. “However it works out, I'll see that she gets a good home.”

He let her see that he'd have expected nothing less. “Here, Priscilla, why don't you let me take the cage?”

“That's all right. I can handle it. But thanks.” He stood aside, and she led the way out. “So what are you going to do now?” she asked.

“Take some time off. I think I'm just going to relax for a while.” He still looked distracted.

She wanted to tell him again it hadn't been his fault. But she thought she'd probably only make things worse. “Well,” she said, “have a big time.”

They passed through the connecting tube and came out into the concourse, and the place erupted. Whistles, cheers, shouts of
Shukran!
and
Thank you!
She recognized the senator from New Jersey, and the House Speaker, who was from Ontario. Nadia and Adara waved. The reporters moved in close, shouting questions. “How does it feel to be back home?”

“How well did you know Captain Miller?”

“Are space missions so dangerous that we shouldn't be sending children?”

Cameras followed them. Lana and Sakeena showed up, embraced them, and said how glad they were to see them again. Everybody was taking pictures.

A few people paused to shake her hand or get their picture taken with her. But Jake was engulfed. They crowded around him, clapped him on the back. Some had tears in their eyes. He tried to explain that the credit for the rescue should go to Joshua Miller, who'd given his life to ensure everyone else survived. But they weren't really listening. There was too much noise, too much excitement.

A woman in Arab garb appeared out of nowhere and thanked Priscilla for saving her daughter. She slipped away before Priscilla could identify her. Another woman wanted to give her money, and a reporter asked how it had felt to rescue the kids off a ship that was about to go down. Dumb question. How the hell did he think it had felt? But Priscilla knew the sacred principle about not irritating the press, so she explained that it felt very good.

Shahlah greeted her with a large smile. “Priscilla,” she said, “if there's ever anything I can do, don't hesitate—”

“Thank you, Shahlah. Let's stay in touch.”

“By all means.” Then: “One other thing—”

“What's that?”

“Jake.”

“What about him?”

“He went through a lot out there. Keep an eye on him. He's going to need help.” She left as a staff assistant approached.

“Ms. Hutchins?” he said.

“Yes?”

He was about twenty, a good-looking kid, in a work uniform. “We've set up a room for you at the Starlight. The information has been sent to your link. Are you planning on leaving the Wheel?”

“Eventually.”

“I mean like tomorrow? The director wants you to stay on for a bit. She'll be in touch.”

“Okay. What about the girls? Have we provided for them?”

“We've set aside a couple of rooms. But I don't think you need be concerned. They all had relatives waiting for them.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, ma'am.”

Ma'am? Priscilla stared after him. She felt about ten years older.

 * * * 

JAKE HAD SEEN
Matt Carstairs waiting for him the moment he'd come out of the tube. Then the crowd had closed in, and Jake lost track of him. But in the end he was still there, tall and well dressed, wearing his standard pensive expression, with a trace of a smile. Matt was retired Marines, and of course, as they say, once a Marine—

“Boss wants to see you, Jake,” he said.

“Okay.”

He reached for one of the bags. “Can I give you a hand?” said Matt.

“Sure.” They started toward the elevators.

“Tough flight,” he said.

“Yeah, Matt. I've seen better.”

They got into the elevator, and Matt pressed the button for the third level. Cleared his throat once or twice as an uncomfortable silence took over. He finally asked Jake if he was okay.

“Yeah. I'm good.”

“You must be glad to be back.”

“I'm just glad it's over, pal.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess I would be, too.”

 * * * 

MATT TURNED HIM
over to a secretary, who informed the director of operations that Captain Loomis had arrived. She listened to a response that Jake couldn't hear, nodded, and asked him to have a seat. “Director McCoy will be with you shortly.”

Jake sat down. The secretary went back to her view screen. He suspected that elsewhere, Priscilla and Shahlah were in similar situations.

He waited a couple of minutes, took out his link, and brought up Worldwide News. A Christian church had been bombed in Senegal. Japan was still trying to recover from a tsunami. Off-season hurricanes continued to ravage the American coast. A nitwit trying to create a biobomb in Scandinavia apparently activated the thing prematurely and killed himself in an otherwise empty corridor at a hotel that was serving as the site of an international law-enforcement convention. And the nominations for the year's film awards had been released.

The secretary pressed her fingers to an earpod, looked across at Jake, then at the director's door. The door opened. “Go right in, Captain,” she said.

Jake had known Patricia McCoy for twenty years, from the days when they were still testing robotic versions of alternate jump systems, none of which had ever worked without killing the test animals or disappearing into Barber space, never to be heard from again. Patricia had been a flight engineer then, and they had orchestrated a couple of missions together. She was, he thought, one of the few managers he'd seen who wasn't in over her head.

She stood just inside her office, wearing a wistful smile. “Jake,” she said, “how are you doing?” She was still trim, still looked good. She had thick chestnut hair, dark brown eyes, and a methodical manner that never left him in doubt who was in charge.

“Hi, Patricia. Okay, I guess.” He switched off the link and got up.

Patricia signaled her secretary. “No calls, Gina.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

He followed her into the office. Pictures of early interstellar ships circling alien worlds covered the walls. There were space stations and Moonbase and shots of Patricia welcoming President Norman to the space station. And, on her desk, he saw photos of her husband and two kids. “Good to see you again, Jake.” She closed the door. “It's been a while.”

“A couple of years,” he said.

Three armchairs faced her desk. She settled into one and invited Jake to sit beside her. “You have no idea how scared we were that some of those kids wouldn't come back. Before I say anything else, I want you to understand that we are in your debt.”

“Thank you,” he said. “It's a good thing Drake and Joshua were there, or it would have been a disaster.”

“Well, you and Priscilla what's-her-name, Hutchins, got them off the
Gremlin
. Thank God for that.”

“It was touch-and-go for a while. What the hell happened out there? How did a bomb get planted on the
Gremlin
?”

“The official story is that we don't know.”

“What's the unofficial one?”

She chewed on her lip. “We're getting a lot of threats lately.”

“Because of the terraforming.”

“Right. We've got people telling us they are going to blow up the
Wheel
. Take us all out. Usually, we have no way of knowing where they're coming from. But in this case, yes, we know who bombed the
Gremlin
.”

Jake leaned forward. Waited.

“It goes no further.”

“I won't say anything.”

“He's an old friend of yours, Jake. Leon Carlson.”

He stared at her. “That's not possible. Leon wouldn't hurt anybody.”

“Well, apparently that's not so.”

Jake had known Leon for the better part of twenty years. “What makes you think it's him?”

“When he found out that the
Gremlin
's assignment had been changed, that instead of carrying supplies out to Selika, it was taking a bunch of high-school kids on a tour, he called in to warn us.”

“Who talked to him?”

“
I
did. He called
me
. He said he wanted to be certain we got the message. He was trying to disguise his voice, but it was him.”

“You're certain?”

“Yes, Jake. No question about it.”

“My God. Where is he now?”

“We don't know. He's gone.” She took a deep breath. “He thinks we're monsters, Jake. That we're aiding and abetting. Anyhow, we were able to warn Joshua. He found it and began trying to dismantle it. That's what set it off. The thing warned him first, told him if he touched it again, it would explode, and that in any case it would go off in two minutes or something like that. It gave him time to get out of the way. And, fortunately, to get the kids clear.”

“The
Thompson
was originally scheduled to go to Selika, wasn't it?”

“Yes. We think the bomb was intended to wait until he docked out there and explode at the station. We got a break when Kosmik donated the ship for the awards flight, and Carlson called in.”

Jake shook his head. “Better not let Kosmik do any more favors for anyone.”

“I guess not. Anyhow, the Feds are looking for him.” She leaned back in her chair. “You don't have any idea where he might be, do you?”

“No. I haven't actually seen much of him this last year or so.”

“Pity,” she said. “Well, it was a shot.”

“Sorry.”

“If you think of anything, let us know.”

“Sure.”

Her expression changed. Became even more somber. “There's something else.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me what happened out there.”

Jake described it, how they'd brought everyone over to the
Copperhead
and the
Gremlin
had ripped into the atmosphere, how they'd rotated the kids in and out of the lander so they got some decent air periodically, how it had seemed as if the
Thompson
would never arrive. And, finally, how Joshua had walked into the cargo bay and drained all the air out of it.

When he finished, she sat unmoving, eyes closed. “That must have been horrifying,” she said. “When we first got the report, I couldn't believe it. Joshua seemed like one of those guys who—” She hesitated.

“—Were immortal,” said Jake.

“Yeah.” She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Looked out a window into the night sky. “I'm reluctant to broach the next question—”

“You want to know how the decision was made.”

“Yes. Sorry, but I need to complete a report. That's one of the questions that will come up.”

Jake replayed the scene in his mind. He remembered the moment when he understood that there wasn't enough oxygen to allow everyone to survive. And that it would come down to the two captains. One or the other. And with the impact had come the numbing reality that it had to be done quickly. There'd been no time to waste. “Joshua said he had an idea,” he told Patricia. “That maybe we could still keep everyone alive. He said he was going down to the cargo bay, and I should meet him there ten minutes later.”

The look in her eyes wasn't even skeptical. She
knew
he'd understood what Joshua intended to do.

“Okay,” she said. “And then what happened?”

“A little while later, maybe ten minutes, we got a call from Shahlah. She's the daughter of the guy who sponsored the awards. She had no way of knowing what Joshua was going to do. She was worried, so she went down to the cargo bay. But he'd already drained the air, and she couldn't get the hatch open.”

“Okay.”

“By the time we were able to get to him, he was dead.”

Neither of them moved. At last, Jake asked if she needed anything else.

“No.” She managed a weak smile. “We'll want you to complete a written report for us by the end of the day.”

“All right.” He got to his feet.

“So we're clear, nobody's blaming you for what happened.”