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“We had too many people crammed in here,” she said. “We’re supposed to have a seven-passenger capacity. Just give it a little time, and it’ll clear.” She ran quickly through her checklist, gave some instructions to Bill, and virtually pushed MacAllister into the right-hand seat. She sat down beside him, secured the harnesses, and asked if he was ready to go while simultaneously shutting off the magnets that secured the Salvator to the dock. Then they were under way.

“Yes,” he said. “Anytime you’re ready.”

She laughed. It was a sound he enjoyed hearing. Damned women. Nature makes fools of us all. Valya told Bill to set course for Capella, then pushed back and exhaled. “I’ll be glad to get this over.”

MacAllister nodded as the image of the museum in the navigation monitor shrank. “What did she say when you talked with her?”

“Amy? She pretty much invited me to go away. Did it politely, but that was the message. What did you guys do? Tell her it was her imagination?”

MacAllister decided he would never understand women. “It was her imagination.”

“Of course,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you tell her that.”

“What would you have done?”

“Just listened. Agreed that it was a scary experience. She’s the one who has to decide it didn’t really happen.”

“She wanted us to tell her what to do.”

“And you did. Orea takanes. Now she knows exactly how to handle things.” She tried to shake it off. “I’m sorry. It really wasn’t your fault.”

Right. Men are naturally slow-witted. “You’re a sexist,” he said quietly.

“Oh, Mac, you just see right through me, don’t you?” Her eyes grew serious. “The museum must have been a little scary at night. You shouldn’t have let her wander around in there by herself.” She shook her head. “No wonder she started seeing things.”

“Valya, she’s sixteen. I don’t think she wanted us following her around.”

“She’s fifteen. And she’s still a kid.” She patted his arm. “It’s all right, Mac. You meant well.”

It was the sort of comment he often made about politicians and bishops.

They were both dead tired. They went back to the common room, where Bill provided some cheese and pineapple juice. It tasted okay, but it wasn’t exactly elegant. Valya fell asleep in her chair with the snack untouched.

MacAllister was seated opposite her. He dimmed the lights, and she looked almost ethereal, her head resting on the back of the chair, red hair framing finely chiseled features, one arm in her lap, the other resting on a side table beside her juice.

He returned to his quarters, found a quilt, brought it out, and draped it over her.

He went back to his chair, killed the lights altogether, closed his eyes, and sat listening to her breathe.

Yes, my dear, alone with you at last.

SHE WOKE HIM. “Mac, you need to get into your harness. We’ll be making our jump in a few minutes.”

The daylight illumination was on. He checked the time. It was almost ten.

“It’ll be a twenty-two-hour run to the Capella system,” she said. “Which puts us in there at about 0800 Thursday.”

“When does the asteroid arrive?”

“Just after ten.”

“That gives us plenty of time to get them off, doesn’t it?”

“It would if the jump took us in close,” she said. “But we’ll be lucky to get within three hours. No, safest is to stick with Plan A: Assume the rock will get there first. They’ll use a shuttle to get out of harm’s way.”

He followed her onto the bridge, took his seat, and activated the harness. He’d already begun imagining how the story would appear in the media. Prominent Editor Rides to Rescue.

MacAllister Saves Four in Race with Asteroid.

MacAllister Wins Americus for First-Person Account of Galactic Ordeal.

“It’d be nice,” he said, “if we could get there before the asteroid. Take them directly off the gridwork.”

She’d started the countdown with Bill. “Why?”

“Makes a better story.”

“If we didn’t get there in time, which we probably wouldn’t, there’s a good chance they’d be killed.”

MacAllister gri

She leaned over and whacked him, and they both laughed. “But you’re not really kidding, are you?”

“Not entirely,” he said. “If we were late, they could still get clear, right? I mean, they’ve got the shuttle.”

“Forget it, Mac. The asteroid’s as big as a sizable chunk of Arizona.”

“One minute,” said Bill.

THE SALVATOR SLIPPED into the transdimensional mists, and so did the conversation. They retreated to the common room and talked about MacAllister’s journalistic passions and why Valya enjoyed piloting interstellars and would consider no other line of work. Why MacAllister liked giving trouble to people who, he argued, needed to be kept in line. Why Valya enjoyed solitude. “Most people only talk about themselves,” she said. “Which would be okay if they had some imagination. But I get tired listening to stories about spouses who don’t understand, or incomprehensible physics experiments, or what sims they watched recently. It’s empty chatter and, if you’re not careful, it can crowd you out of your life. Up here it’s quiet, and you’re alone with yourself.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“For what?”

“For taking me along.”

“Mac,” she said, “you have your problems, but you do make for entertaining flights.”

He sat quietly, enjoying the moment. “You know, Valya, when we get home, I’d like to take you over to the Seahawk.”

“The Seahawk?”

Everybody in Arlington knew the Seahawk. But he played her game. “Nicest club on the Potomac,” he said.

“Oh, yes. I have heard of it.” She looked out at the mist. “Yes, that would be nice.” Her eyes brushed over him, came back, locked. She was making up her mind about something.

“You don’t think very highly of men, do you, Valya?”

“They’re okay. Some of them.”



“What’s their primary problem?” MacAllister was quietly amused, but tried not to show it.

“Bottom line?” she said.

“Please.”

“Don’t take offense, Mac. Most guys aren’t very bright.”

MacAllister saw no reason to be offended. “Most people generally aren’t very bright.”

“There’s an extra dimension with men.”

“Sex.”

“It’s more complicated than that. But yes.”

“What else?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Maybe. But there’s more. You’re not good at hiding your feelings.”

“Guys are more self-centered. It’s why you only hear males talking about What’s the meaning of it all?”

“Explain.”

“To a woman, it’s self-evident. Life is what it is. A brief stroll in the sunlight. A chance to enjoy yourself for a century or so. Love. Be loved. Have a few drinks before the fire goes out. But guys think there has to be something more. That’s why all the big religious figures are men. They’ll claim it just doesn’t make sense that the world could move on without them. Must be an afterlife. Has to be more than this. So they live on, as saints or whatever. The guys never really want to leave the table.” Her lips curved into a smile.

MacAllister felt warm. “You are lovely, Valya,” he said.

The smile widened. “There’s my point. Even you, Mac.”

“What? Enjoying the company of a beautiful woman? It’s just part of the stroll in the sunlight.”

She asked how it felt to be feared by so many politically powerful people. MacAllister realized she felt the conversation had wandered into deep water and was trying to get onto safer ground. Which was okay. “I really don’t think about it,” he said.

She sighed. “Of course you don’t. After all, who would want to be a guy the power brokers are all afraid of?”

“I think you’re overstating things a bit.”

She was enjoying herself. She knew the effect of those luminous eyes. Add the high-voltage personality, and you had an extraordinary woman. Yet there was always a part of her that seemed aloof, that stayed outside the conversation, amused, detached. As if she’d done all this before.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said Bill. “We have an incoming transmission.”

At home, Tilly could be shut down. He wasn’t always present, always lingering in the background as Bill seemed to be. Mac and Valya were not really alone after all.

One of the construction workers appeared in the middle of the room. He was about forty. He had dark skin and a black beard, and he ate too much. He looked both scared and tired. “Valentina,” he said, “I just wanted you to know we’re lined up and ready to go. Appreciate it if you could let us know your TOA as soon as you can.” He hesitated, reluctant to break away. “We’ll be glad to see you.”

The image clicked off. “I think you have a fan,” said MacAllister.

“Yeah. Next time you ask me why I do this stuff for a living — ”

It was MacAllister’s turn to smile. “I’m sure you get to rescue people at least once a month.”

“Well. Once is enough, kardoula mou.”

“My Greek’s a little rusty.”

“It means ‘opinionated one.’”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Would I lie to you?”

“I’m going to look it up.”

“You are entitled to do so.” She sighed. “Bill.”

“Yes, Valya.”

“Response for the hotel.”

“Ready.”

The lighting shifted gently as Bill lined up her image. “Karim, we’ll make the jump into your space about eighteen hours after you receive this. As soon as we’re there, I’ll let you know. Hang in. You’ll get off with no problem.”

The lights rose and fell again. Went back to normal. “You never married, Mac, did you?”

“I was married,” he said. “Years ago. My wife died.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It happens.”

“You have a reputation as a misogynist. Carefully cultivated if I read you correctly. I wouldn’t have thought you’d have wanted a woman in your life.”

He had no family, no one he could really talk to. He kept everyone at a safe distance. And here was this Greek pilot, standing at the edge of the clearing. “Je

Her eyes slid shut, closing off that azure gaze. “She must have been. You want to tell me about it?”

“Nothing to tell,” he said. “She died young. Katzmeier’s Disease.”

“Must have been a painful time.”

“Yeah.”

She could see he didn’t want to go any further, so, after a long pause, she retreated. Talked about the flight back from Capella with a crowded ship. Asked how the reports for The National were coming. Was he going to mention Amy’s claims?