Джек Макдевитт - A Voice in the Night

Jake nodded, and went up a gently curving ramp. At the other end, a flight attendant stood in the door of the launch vehicle. Jake had flown only twice before, when he’d gone to New York for a convertible bond seminar, and to Ohio for Jennifer’s wedding.

The flight attendant was tall, almost as tall as he, and she was a knockout.

He hesitated.

“It’s all right, Mr. Cashman.” Her glow melted all reluctance.

Jake stepped over the threshold and surrendered his pass.

“Thank you, sir. Take any seat you like.”

It looked like an ordinary aircraft. The seats were arranged one on each side, twenty in all. Two young couples were seated toward the rear, and a couple of kids had fallen asleep with their parents up front. He picked a seat midway down the aisle.

The cockpit door was open. He could see movement. Outside, someone was detaching a hose from the fuselage. A big Pratt-Whitney thruster was mounted on the wing.

The flight attendant appeared beside him. “Drinks are free on this flight, Mr. Cashman. Everything is first class. I’ll be happy to get you something as soon as we are airborne.”

Did he look as if he needed a drink? Jake self-consciously belted in. Looked uneasily around. “Any other passengers coming?” he asked.

“One.”

On his overhead display, the directives fasten seat belt and no smoking were illuminated. Jake unfolded his newspaper and laid it across his lap. The flight attendant wore a name plate. Vicki. “Vicki, what’s actually going to happen here?”

She smiled reassuringly. “What are you expecting to happen, sir?”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s very routine. We’ll be taking you into orbit, where we’ll rendezvous with the interstellar which will transport you to your destination. You will have first class accommodations all the way. Try to think of this initial portion as an ordinary flight. However, some of the perspectives from your window may be unsettling. If you haven’t done anything like this before, you might want to consider pulling the shade. In any case, be assured there is no danger.

“We’ll do the inflight rendezvous about three hours after takeoff. It’s all quite routine. After that, you’ll have considerably more freeedom to move about, as well as access to your luggage.”

“Good. I was wondering about that.” Jake wanted to appear casual, as if this sort of thing happened to him all the time. “Vicki, how long will this trip actually take?”

“Mr. Cashman, it is quite long, but you won’t mind. You might say it’s all relative.”

She retraced her steps toward the cockpit. Jake turned on his seatlight and unfolded the Inquirer . More bombings in Beirut. Famine in Angola. Civil war in the Middle East.

Budget problems. Ozone issues.

Another racial shooting downtown.

Maybe it was just as well he was leaving. He turned to the sports section.

Vicki said a few words to someone in the cockpit and closed the door. Jake tried to concentrate on the newspaper.

Years before, his father had occasionally brought him out to watch the airliners at the old Philadelphia International Airport. They were all jets then. He’d watched the planes come and go, and he had made up his mind to become a pilot. But like so many other dreams from that distant time, it had remained nothing more.

He heard voices up front. The final passenger had arrived. Vicki was near the door. She stepped out of his way as he entered.

It was Charlie.

Jake was relieved, pleased, and annoyed. He released his belt and got up. “Charlie. You came.” Ordinarily, Charlie’s eyes would have locked on Vicki. But he brushed past her and came toward Jake. “I should have realized,” Jake said, “you’d be here to say goodbye.”

Charlie held up a boarding pass.

Jake fought back a rush of tears. “You’re coming.”

Charlie did not look happy. He threw a briefcase into an overhead compartment and dropped into the seat opposite Jake’s. “I can’t let you go alone. God knows what you’re getting into.”

Vicki closed the front hatch.

Jake sat back down. “Charlie, I appreciate this but I don’t want you to do it.”

A voice addressed them over the sound system. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking. Welcome aboard Flight 111, through service to Centaurus and beyond. Federal regulations require you be belted in during takeoff, landing, and rendezvous.”

“It’s okay,” Charlie said. “I wouldn’t want to miss this trip.”

“That’s not true.”

The captain’s voice again: “We’ll be taxiing out in just a few minutes.”

“Sure it is.”

“Jake, if it were, I’d be somewhere else.”

“Does your family know about this?”

“I called them. They told me to go for it.”

The engines came to life. One of the thrusters belched, unleashing some dark smoke.

Vicki checked the overhead compartments, spoke briefly to the people with the kids. “She looks good,” said Jake.

“Yeah. She’s okay. Listen, we aren’t going to have to sit in these seats all the way to Alpha Centauri, are we?”

Jake laughed. They both laughed.

The thrusters, they were advised, would need a few minutes to warm up. “Then,” said Vicki, “we’ll be on our way.”

In the distance, Jake could see the Penrose Ferry Bridge. Its lights tracked back to Philly. To steak sandwiches and Sundays at the Vet. And the army of secretaries on Chestnut Street. And Mary.

It was the town of the Tornadoes. Scattered now across the country, maybe around the globe. Two that he knew of were gone to their graves. The team would never meet again, but they had been here once.

“You okay, Jake?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“No. Of course not.”

Casey’s Bar & Grill still stood on Eleventh. And he wasn’t far from Hal Koestler’s place in Springfield where he’d met Mary. Their time together had been short.

He should have said goodbye to Cal Mooney and the guys at the bowling alley.

The cabin jerked, began to move. Charlie sat silently. What was he thinking?

“Charlie?”

“Yeah, Jake.”

“You figure they got bowling alleys out there? On Centaurus?”

“Sure. What kind of place wouldn’t have bowling alleys?”

Jake took a deep breath and looked down the aisle at Vicki, who was checking the overhead storage bins. “I think we want out.” He punched the service button, released his seat belt and climbed to his feet.

Charlie didn’t move. “What are you doing?”

“We’re not going. At least I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“Get your briefcase.”

Vicki’s features were hidden in the semi-darkness. Jake thought her eyes actually, really, glittered.

“No,” said Charlie. “I’m staying. You’re not going to load this on me. I’m here. You said this was what you wanted to do. I’m staying.”

Jake nodded. “Suit yourself. I’m getting off.”

Charlie crossed his arms.

Jake pushed past Vicki. “Is something wrong, Mr. Cashman?” she asked.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Are you sure? Please understand, this offer cannot be repeated.”

He looked into her eyes. His pulse kicked up a couple of notches. “Vicki, I wouldn’t want you to think I’m not grateful. But I’m the wrong guy for this.”

“Okay.” She said something into her mike. The rumble of the thrusters slowed and stopped. “Your bags will be returned through baggage claim,” she said, opening the hatch.

Charlie barged out of his seat. “Goddam, Jake, I wish you’d make up your mind.”