Starhawk (37 page)

Take out the
Venture
? She didn't have a cannon on board.

He's talking about ramming it.

“Louie,” she said, “can we manage a collision? With the
Venture
?”

“Priscilla, it will be traveling at an extreme velocity when we intersect with it, approximately 220,000 kilometers. It will require precision.”

“Then we can do it?”

“Yes. But I will have to make immediate course adjustments, and set for acceleration. You should go down and get into the lander while you can.”

“Okay,” she said. “I'll let you know as soon as I'm set, Louie.”

She went through the hatch into the passenger cabin, got her gear, took a last look around, and went down the tube to the cargo bay. Frank came back:
“The
Baumbachner
has been given responsibility for picking up Jake's lander. So all you have to worry about, Priscilla, is the
Venture
.”

“Who's in the
Baumbachner
?”
asked Jake.

“Drake Peifer.”

“Good,”
he said.
“You got the right guy. Priscilla, are you in your lander yet?”

“I'm on my way.”

“Priscilla,”
said Frank,
“if you have to launch, you should be able to make it into the Wheel on your own.”

Provided the Wheel is still there.

“We're coming up on fifteen minutes,”
said Jake.
“If they're actually targeting Union, this is the prime spot for a shutdown.”

“Okay,”
said Frank.
“Good luck, Jake.”

Priscilla was just arriving on the cargo deck. She climbed into the lander and shut the hatch. “Okay, Louie,” she said, pulling the harness over her shoulders, “whenever you're ready.”

“Very good, Priscilla. Course correction commencing.” She was pushed back into the seat.

“Frank,”
said Jake,
“once the engines are off and I can move around, it might be possible to disable them. If the virus can't bring them back up, it won't be able to make the final adjustment. That should solve the problem.”

“Do it my way, Jake: When the engines cut off, just get everybody out of there. Okay? And leave the rest to Priscilla.”

“Will do.”

“All right. I'll see you both back here in a while. I hope. Priscilla, you
are
in the lander, right?”

“Yes, Frank,” she said.
I figured out it might not be a good idea to stay on board.

“By the way,”
said Frank,
“you might be interested in knowing that Kosmik has issued a statement agreeing to stop the terraforming and wait for the development of a less invasive methodology.”

Jake laughed.
“I always knew their hearts were in the right place.”

Priscilla had enjoyed being on the bridge of the
Sydney Thompson
. It was quieter than the other ships she'd ridden. And somehow smoother. This would have been the perfect vehicle for a casual flight with friends to Epsilon Eridani. It had been ideal for transporting the presidential candidate out to the Iapetus monument.

Now she would lose it.

“Priscilla.”
Jake again.
“Frank, our engines just shut down.”

 * * * 

LOUIE'S VOICE: “NINETEEN
minutes to impact with the
Venture
.”

Priscilla started to decompress the launch bay.

Jake would need about five minutes to get everyone inside the lander, another four minutes to get it launched.

The station was now visible through the
Thompson
's scopes. At least, its lights were. It was just coming around the planetary rim. If this thing played out, next time around it would be in the crosshairs.

The blinkers representing the
Venture
and the
Thompson
on her navigation screen were gradually drawing together at about a sixty-degree angle. “Jake—?” she said.

“Should be out of here in just a couple more minutes.”

She sat in the darkness. Louie announced that decompression was complete. “Open launch doors?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Jake came back:
“Okay, Priscilla. They're gone.”

That brought another chill. “
They're
gone. What do you mean
they
? Jake, are you still on the
Venture
?”

“Priscilla, I don't know how this thing is programmed. It could do evasive action. Who knows? There are too many lives at stake. I have to try to shut the engines down so they can't be brought online.”

“It might not matter, Jake. You could hit the station anyhow.” She was close to screaming. “We're ten minutes away from the collision.”

“I know.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do this with you on board?”

“Don't worry about it. If I can shut it down, I'll know pretty quickly. If I can do that, I can get control of the ship again, we'll get out of your way, and the problem's solved.”

“Jake—”

“Priscilla, I don't have time to argue. I backed off once. I'm not doing it again.”

“Is that what this is about? You and Joshua Miller?”

 * * * 

SHE COULD HAVE
ripped her seat from its moorings and thrown it against the bulkhead. Outside, the launch doors were open. “Louie,” she said, “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Priscilla.”

Jake's voice again.
“You out of there yet?”

“Heading out now. How are you doing?”

“Probably not going to have enough time.”

She thought about trying to talk him into getting some air tanks and leaving the ship. She could try to pick him up in the lander. But that wouldn't work. They were both moving too quickly, and in different directions. She'd never get to him before he ran out of air.

“Jake, this is crazy.”

“Quiet, Priscilla. Please.”

She was out of time. She took the lander out and turned hard to starboard, watched the
Thompson
race ahead and dwindle quickly to a handful of lights.

She stayed off the radio. Did not want to distract Jake.

“We are safe,” said the lander AI. “It is extremely unlikely we will be hit by any debris.”

With a minute or so remaining, Jake's voice interrupted the silence.
“It wouldn't matter now if I
did
shut it down.”

“Jake—”

“Sorry, Priscilla,”
he said.
“I hope you're clear.”

“I'm clear.”

“Good. Tell Alicia I got her message. Tell her I love her.”

 * * * 

SHE NEVER REALLY
did
see the
Venture
. She was watching the
Thompson
's lights fading into the night when, suddenly, there was a fiery eruption.

“Jake,” she said, “are you there? Please?”

She listened. Then tried Louie.

Finally, Frank was on the circuit.
“Are you okay, Priscilla?”

“I'm fine,” she said.

 * * * 

PRISCILLA'S JOURNAL

(No entry this date)

“HELLO.”
IT WAS
a female voice. Priscilla, fighting back tears, couldn't place it.
“What happened? Is Jake okay?”

“Who is this?”

“I'm Samantha Campbell. We're in the lander. What happened to Jake?”

“We lost him.” Her voice broke up. The idiot. Dead to prove a point. Goddam it. At the other end, she heard screams.

“I told him not to do it,”
said Samantha.
“I
told
him. I
told
him.”

Priscilla was still trying to breathe.

“Priscilla, you there?”

“Yes,” she said. “Are you guys okay?”

“We're okay. We even have some extra air tanks.”

“Good.” She was getting her voice under control. “Drake's on his way. He should be alongside in a few hours. Tell the AI you want to brake, but make sure everybody's locked in before you do.”

“We got all that from Jake.”

“Okay. You guys know how to use the Flickinger units, right?”

“Yes.”
She had to stop to blow her nose.
“It's no problem, Priscilla.”

“All right, Samantha. I'll see you back at Union.”

“Where are
you
?”

“Pretty much the same place you are: in the middle of nowhere.”

 * * * 

A CROWD WAS
waiting when she arrived back at the Wheel. Mostly, they were WSA people, technicians and construction specialists, who knew what it would have meant had the
Venture
blasted into the space station at a quarter million kilometers per hour. There was applause when she climbed out of the lander. They lined up and shook her hand, said they were grateful she'd been out there, that they were sorry about Jake, that they'd never forget her. One young woman, whom she hadn't known and could never have identified later, simply said, “Thanks, Hutch.”

A few others, assuming that was her name, picked it up.
“Incredible, Hutch.”

“Bravo zulu, Hutch.”
It was the old naval code for
well done
.

“Welcome back, Hutch. Thank God.”

Frank and Patricia appeared from nowhere. They wore sad smiles. Patricia embraced her, the first time Priscilla could remember a show of affection from the director. “You all right?” she asked.

“More or less.”

And then McGruder, with his aides and his Secret Service guys, showed up. “I can guess what you've been through,” the candidate said, “but we owe you. We
all
do.”

Eventually, she was able to ask Frank about Drake's effort to overtake the
Venture
lander.

“He's still in pursuit,” Frank said. “But he's closing. Should reach them in a few hours.”

 * * * 

THEY WATCHED FROM
Patricia's office, munching cheese sticks and drinking coffee, as the
Baumbachner
closed on the hurtling lander, which had done as much braking as it could, but to little effect. It was still traveling at an outrageous velocity. “I didn't want to ask before,” said Priscilla, “but how's Drake going to get turned around again? He can't possibly have enough fuel left.” Even a ship with a full tank couldn't accelerate for an hour and a half, then execute a U-turn and come back.

“We were worrying about that, too,” said Patricia. “This was strictly a one-step-at-a-time operation. But Drake said it would be no problem.”

“Oh,” said Priscilla, as the lights came on. “He'll do a couple of
jumps
.”

“Exactly,” said Frank.

“That's clever.” He wouldn't even have to leave the solar system. A jump out in any direction would reduce his speed to a standard 20,000 kph. Then he could turn around without using a ton of fuel and jump back in.

“Drake tells us that's standard operating procedure.”

That was embarrassing. “We were about to do an exercise with runaway engines, but we got distracted. We never got back to it. But I should have known—”

“Don't worry about it,
Hutch
,” said Patricia. “You're the hero of the hour.” She got another squeeze from the boss.

“Do we have any idea who did this?” Priscilla asked.

“We're working on it. But no, so far, we haven't a clue. If the FBI has anything, they're keeping it to themselves.”

“I assume Jake told you about the transmission from Lyda Bergen?”

“Yes,” said Patricia.

“I'd think it would be easy enough to track down the source.” Off-world transmissions carried a charge. “How was it paid for?”

“According to the record,” said Patricia, “the caller
was
Lyda Bergen. The call was made from the Starbright. But the hotel has no record of anybody named Bergen staying there.”

“That's no surprise. So who paid for it?”

“The hotel.”

“Somebody rigged their AI.”

Patricia nodded. “They don't have anyone at their service desk between midnight and 0700 hours. You check in with the AI.”

“And,” said Priscilla, “if you know what you're doing—”

“—You can go behind the counter and download a virus. They'd never had a problem, so they seem to have dismissed any notion of a risk.”

“All it would have taken,” said Frank, “was a call to the
Venture
to trigger the virus.”

Patricia nodded. “It looks as if it's another one of our techs. Somebody who had access to the
Venture
. We might have been wrong in assuming that Carlson was a loner.” She looked tired. “The immediate question now is whether we can trust the crazies to accept Kosmik's promise that they'll quit.”

“How many techs do we have who could manage something like this?” she asked.

The director exhaled. “Listen, Priscilla, why don't you let us handle this? You've been through enough.”

“Okay.”

“If you really want to know, I'd say there are two. But they were both here. On the station. So if it was one of them, he didn't expect to survive.”

 * * * 

PRISCILLA'S JOURNAL

Impossible to believe he's gone. Have I really only known him a few months?

—March 7, 2196

PRISCILLA CHECKED THE
address and returned to her lander. The general retreat from Union had slowed, but there would still have been no space for her on the shuttles for two days. She got a reluctant clearance from Frank to use the lander after telling him she needed some family time and agreeing to take some passengers with her. She delivered them to Heathrow Terminal, then traveled across the Atlantic to Chicago's O'Hare.

She rented a car and, by midmorning, having discarded six time zones from the Wheel, she was approaching De Kalb, a quiet university town of about one hundred thousand. Baxter Intelligence was located on the north side in an area of lush trees and oversized hedges. She pulled into the parking lot in front of a flat, gray, two-story building that would have housed maybe a dozen employees at most.

A chill wind was coming from the west as she got out of the car, crossed the lot, climbed two stone steps, and went inside. A guy probably in his midtwenties was seated behind a desk. He looked up at her and smiled. “Yes,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“I'd like to see Dr. Wolf, please.”

He glanced at a pair of doors that opened into a passageway. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No. But I think she'll see me. My name's Hutchins.”

He nodded. “One minute, please.”

The walls were decorated with award certificates and advertising extracts testifying to the value of Baxter AIs. There were also photos of homes, trains, and large buildings presumably under their reliable care. “She'll be right down,” he said. He glanced at the divan and chairs scattered around the room, but she indicated she was fine and remained on her feet.

Within a minute one of the twin doors opened, revealing a smiling Monika. The smile was tight, though. Almost pained. “Priscilla,” she said, “how good to see you.” She held the door open. “Come on in.”

Priscilla followed her down a corridor. The woman had aged. Not that any gray streaks had appeared in that pristine black hair. Or lines in her near-classic features. But she had hardened somehow.

“How are you, Monika?” Priscilla asked.

Monika picked up the pace a bit. They passed several doors and stopped at an elevator. “I'm sure you can guess,” she said. The elevator opened, and they got in and rode up to the second floor. “Are
you
okay?”

“Not really.”

Monika nodded and led the way into her office. “I've looked forward to seeing you again, Priscilla.” She turned and leaned back against a worktable, waiting for Priscilla to sit.

Again, she remained standing. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know what I mean.”

She tried to look puzzled. “What are we talking about?”

“When we were coming back, in the
Venture
, you were angry.”

“Well, sure. Of course I was. I'd just been through all that nonsense with Chappell.”

“And—what was it?—Project Rainbow.”

“Yes. It
was
frustrating.”

“You were going to come back and raise hell about it. At least that's what you told me.”

“I know.”

“I never heard anything from you. Not a word.”

She shrugged. “I guess I cooled down a bit.”

“I guess. Then there was that morning in the
Venture
. When I got up early and walked in on you on the bridge. That was when you set it up, right? That's when you put the bug in the system.”

Desperation was creeping into her eyes. “This is ridiculous. You can't prove any of this. The FBI's already talked to me.”

“Really? Why?”

“They talked to everybody who had access to the
Venture
.”

“They haven't talked to
me
.”

“That's because they probably don't feel you have enough of a technical background to have rigged the AI.”

“But
you
do.”

“Of course I do. But that doesn't mean I did it.”

“You know Jake Loomis died.”

“Yes,” she said. “I know.” She lowered herself into one of the two armchairs. “I know. I was sorry to hear about Jake.” She wiped her eyes. “I knew him.”

“I killed him,” said Priscilla.

“I heard how it happened. You did what you had to. But you didn't—”

“You have any idea what I'm living through right now? What I'm going to live with for the rest of my life?”

Her voice broke. “I'm sorry, Priscilla. I really am.” Her eyes closed. “I'd thought—I thought those idiots at Kosmik would back off when I sent the original ultimatum to the FBI. How could they not have? Ignorant sons of bitches. There was no way they could not have realized it was a serious threat. I gave them too much information. I thought they'd concede, and it would never go as far as it did.” She looked at Priscilla with horror. “You must hate me.”

Priscilla stared back in silence.

“It was a trade, Priscilla. I wish I had it to do over. I'm sorry for Jake. And for you.”

“Well, you're really being hard on yourself, aren't you? I'm happy to tell you, Monika, that it was a near thing for a lot of people.”

“Ultimately,” said Monika, “they were going to kill
everything
on Selika.” Her fists were clenched, and she was beating the arms on the chair in a slow synchronicity. “But they've
stopped
. I didn't know any other way to force their hand.”

“Monika, let me make one thing clear: Right now, I don't give a damn about the cause. You don't get to endanger innocent people no matter what your cause is. Worse, you and I killed a close friend. So if you're looking for sympathy—”

“I'm sorry to hear you say that, Priscilla. I'd thought you were better than that. But I understand. It's your fault, too, you know.”

“I know.”

“That's not what I mean. How can you believe I'd actually put several hundred people at risk? If you'd stayed out of it—If you'd just left things alone, the
Venture
would have veered off at the last minute. There's no way I would have done the things you're accusing me of.” She began to sob. “There's no way.”

A sense of rage and guilt swept through Priscilla.

“Turn me in if you want,” Monika said. “You call it. But keep in mind who's really guilty here.”

Priscilla got up, walked to the door, and opened it. “If I'd known who you were, I'd have left you on Selika.”

Monika nodded. “I wish you had.”

“Yeah. You can explain your feelings to the FBI.”