Odyssey

A few minutes later she was back with more: “I’ve talked with the East and West Towers, and they report nothing unusual.”

Hutch froze the image. Valentina had been a trusted Academy pilot for fifteen years. She wondered how it had happened. Had she been bought? Or had she done this out of some misplaced idealism? Not that it mattered.

She wondered briefly if she would herself have been tempted to rig the game to save the Academy. It was a thought she quickly thrust aside.

“I’ll keep you updated. Salvator out.”

Out was the operative word.

Valya and Hutch had never been close, had never been on an extended operation together. But Hutch had come to respect her. She’d fire the woman, of course. The only question was whether she should also prosecute. She’d have preferred to let everything ride until the Salvator returned. Then deal with it face-to-face. But MacAllister knew, and Dryden knew, so it was going to be getting around, and she had no doubt one or the other would be in touch with her, Dryden to tell her to look out, MacAllister to vent his rage at being lied to.

“Marla,” she said, “message for the Salvator.”

“When ready.”

“Routine precedence. Captain’s eyes only.”

“Very good.”

She sat for several moments, collecting her thoughts. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to terminate someone, but it had never before felt so personal. “Valya,” she said. “I would have preferred to do this here. You’ll probably be getting a message from the people at Orion, and I thought you should hear it first from me. We know what happened at Terranova, and at the Galactic.

“We haven’t accounted for Amy’s experience. If you can shed light on that, if you know beyond question that’s another hoax, then let’s just forget this pony ride. Turn around and come home.

“If you don’t have an explanation for what happened to her, stay on-station at Origins until we can relieve you. You’re of course aware that, if an attack is coming, we have no idea what form it may take.”

She wanted to say more, to express her sense of betrayal and outrage, but putting it into a transmission where she couldn’t see a reaction just didn’t give her the satisfaction she wanted.

chapter 38

Truth is slippery, not because it is difficult to grasp, but because we prefer our preconceptions, our beliefs, our myths. It’s why nations are so often surprised by people like Napoleon and Hitler and Guagameil. Why individuals still buy natural cures for arteriosclerosis. Why we hire door-to-door guys to fix the roof.

— Gregory MacAllister, “Show Me the Money”

Mission Operations kept Valya informed who was coming behind her. And when they were expected to arrive at Origins. All TOAs of course, depending on how good the jumps were. What a donkey drill.

But she played along, shaking her head at the commotion caused by one hysterical teenager. She was surprised Hutch had bought the story. The woman was usually too clear-eyed to be taken in like this.

She was uncomfortable with the situation. She didn’t like deceiving friends, didn’t like withholding information. She’d thought she was doing the right thing, providing the Academy with a badly needed boost. But events had ballooned out of control. Who could have believed when she agreed to help Dryden that Amy would get some kind of night sweats case, claim to have held a conversation with moonriders, and throw everything into chaos? She’d seemed like such a sensible kid.

Eric was in the right-hand seat. He enjoyed being on the bridge, probably imagining how it would feel to take the Salvator into his own hands and guide her into the East Tower dock.

“Transmission from Hutch,” said Bill. “Eyes only.”

Uh-oh.

With no one else on board save Eric, she could imagine only one reason for that designation.

She took a deep breath and became more aware of the acceleration. She was in the middle of a course correction, pushing her into her seat, squeezing her chest, and reminding her of the immense power of the machine in which she sat. Not unlike a good male, she thought. A lot of power, and just barely under control.

She’d suspected all along, despite Dryden’s assurances, that eventually they’d be caught. But it shouldn’t have come so soon. She’d told herself that when it did come out, it would happen only after the plan had failed and the Academy went back to closing down its operations, or after a success, when the big starships were heading out again in a new age of exploration. In either case, it wouldn’t have mattered all that much. Certainly, in the latter event she’d have been more than willing to accept personal disgrace, secure that in the long view her contribution would be appreciated.

But this was just too soon.

“I’ll take it in my cabin,” she told Bill, trying to suggest to Eric that such matters were routine. “In a few minutes.”

“They’re not going to tell us the moonriders have already hit the place, are they?” Eric asked.

“No,” she said. “It’s probably a perso

“You look pale.”

She summoned a smile. From way back. “I’m fine.” If they dismissed her, what would her chances be of catching on with one of the carriers?

Nil.

The drive shut down, and she released the harnesses. “I’ll be back,” she told Eric.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be here.”

He was an i

She retreated to her cabin, closed the door, and took a deep breath. She should have told Hutch the truth when she started talking about sending the Salvator out here.

Too late now.

“Okay, Bill,” she said, “let’s see what Her Highness has to say.”

Hutch appeared in the center of the room. She was propped against the back of her desk. White blouse, blue neckerchief. Hair perfect. Eyes intense. The woman’s expression was enough to deliver the message.

“I would have preferred to do this here.”

Her heart quickened.

“You’ll probably be getting a message from the people at Orion.”

Anathema to it all. Didn’t the idiot realize she’d done it for her? Hutchins, if we leave the future to people like you, we’ll wind up sitting on the back side of the moon.

“…haven’t accounted for Amy’s experience. If you can shed light on that, if you know beyond question that’s another hoax, then let’s just forget this pony ride. Turn around and come home.”

Hutch, at least try to understand.

“If you don’t…stay on-station at Origins…”

At the end, Hutch seemed about to say something else, but abruptly she was gone, replaced by the Academy symbol. A scroll and lamp framing the blue Earth of the United World.

Well, you couldn’t blame the woman. Hutch was what she was. She’d have been willing to sit there and preside over the end of the Academy, and for that matter over the end of mankind’s future in space, and go down bravely with the ship.

Valentina Kouros, on the other hand, wasn’t one to stand idly by and accept disaster. She understood that Dryden and his corporate friends had used her, but she had used them, too. The space program was on the move again, and if it had taken some katafero, then so be it.

She wondered whether there’d be criminal charges.

Whatever happened, she could expect to live the rest of her life on the ground.

Well, okay. If that was the price she had to pay. “Bill, I have a response to the message. Director’s eyes only.”

“Ready.”

“Hutch,” she said, “I don’t know anything about Amy. We’ll proceed as directed to Origins, survey the area, and await relief.” She stared straight ahead, thinking what else to say. “At your pleasure.”

When the message had been transmitted, she wrote her resignation. Kept it short. Made it effective on her return to Union. And sent it off.

She returned to the bridge. Eric was sitting comfortably with his legs thrust out in front of him and his hands clasped behind his head. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said.

THEY WERE STILL several hours away from Origins.

Eric was a talker, but Valya was in no mood to keep up her end of a conversation about trifles. She suggested they retreat to the common room and watch a vid. He thought that was a good idea — Eric always liked entertainment — so they made themselves comfortable. It was his turn to make the selection and, probably in deference to her, he went with Thermopolae, an historical drama about the celebrated stand of the Spartans. “Do we want to do substitutions?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said. “Whatever you like.”

Eric became Demetrios, a captain in the small Spartan force. “You look good in a horsehair helmet,” she told him, as he stood surveying the famous pass. He smiled modestly.

The female lead, now Valya, was an Athenian dancing girl who’d fallen in love with Demetrios. They watched it through to the end, including a ridiculous scene in which the two lovers — she has refused to leave his side — hold off a small army of Persians before finally succumbing.

While it played out, she decided there was no point hiding the truth from Eric. He was going to find out eventually. So the credits rolled and the vid makers informed them that the sacrifice of the Spartans had bought valuable time and thereby saved western civilization, and she steeled herself for the ordeal.

When the lights came on, Eric commented that it was a strong show, and how painful it had been to see her killed off at the end. “Eric,” she said, “I have a confession to make.”

There was no spoiling his mood. He was a man on a mission. Making his life count for something. Maybe not Demetrios. But a spear-carrier. Or maybe just somebody bringing the water. And she was about to tell him it had all been a hoax. “You’ve fallen desperately in love with me,” he said.

She took his wrist in her hands. “I wish that were it.”

His voice changed: “What’s wrong?”

“Eric, I’ve been lying to you. All along.”

“About what?”

It went with a rush. The bogus transmission from the Ophiuchi monitor. How the Terranova asteroid had been aimed months ago by a pair of Orion cargo haulers. How the other asteroid, the one at Capella, was also a fabrication. Orion had known about it well in advance, she said, and they’d put the hotel precisely at the impact point. “I didn’t realize they’d play it so close,” she said. “They had the timing for the rescue down, but it was a near thing. If I’d known…”