Джек Макдевитт - Odyssey

“Actually,” she said, “you don’t give a damn about the moonriders. You want the publicity. You’d like us to put together a mission. The media would make a lot of noise about it. There’d be leaks, and somebody would notice how the moonriders are seen all over the tour routes. And Orion won’t have enough flights to accommodate its customers. Am I right?”

“I told Charlie we’d have to level with you,” said Asquith. “It all goes back to the funding issue, Hutch.”

“And your problem,” said Dryden, “is our problem.”

That much at least was true. Orion’s long-range tour operation was heavily dependent on the Academy’s bases for replenishment, and also as ports that allowed their passengers to get out of the confines of the ships for a day or two. Orion and the Academy were joined at the hip. “If the Academy went under, Orion would have to establish and maintain its own stations, or stick strictly to its tours of the local neighborhood.”

“We can’t afford to let that happen,” Dryden said. “And we don’t intend to.” He pressed his fingertips together. Man in charge. Everything was going to be all right. “Hiram Taylor’s leading the effort in the Senate to cut you folks off at the knees. We need to make it politically uncomfortable for him to do that.” Back in the good old days, Dryden would simply have bought Taylor. Or tried to. There would have been big campaign contributions. But that sort of thing had gone out two centuries earlier. The country had been taken over briefly by a corporate autocracy and hopelessly corrupt politicians. Money bought access. But the Second American Revolution had happened, people began taking the Constitution seriously again, and the practice of renting and buying congressmen had been stopped by the simple expedient of getting money out of the campaigns. Contributions of all types became illegal. Campaigns were funded by the voters. You gave money to a politician, it constituted bribery, and you could go to jail.

The world had changed. Politicians had come dangerously close to developing integrity. But as MacAllister would have said, they were no more competent than ever.

“We need to find a purpose for the Academy,” Dryden said.

She was getting annoyed. “I was under the impression we had a purpose.”

“You do. You do.” He became apologetic. “You’re talking about science. But science doesn’t fly with the voters. Did you know that, among the major nations, nobody is more scientifically illiterate than we are?”

“I’ve heard that,” she said.

“Go after the moonriders. If you solve the riddle, you advance the cause of science. Even if you don’t, you stand a good chance of getting the voters excited about you again.”

“They’ll laugh at us,” she said.

“That’s probably true. Some will. But they’ll also be interested. Involved. Get this thing up and running, and you might be able to head off Taylor and his cronies.”

She looked at Asquith, secure behind his desk. “Where would you get the ships? We’re already canceling missions.”

“For the moment, we’d only need one,” he said. “Just enough to engage the public interest. And Charlie has offered to make an Orion ship available.”

“It wouldn’t work if we use an Orion ship,” she said.

“You’re right,” said Dryden. “Our ship would replace one of yours. It could take a mission out to Sirius or wherever, and free up one of your carriers.”

“What it would do,” said Asquith, “is visit some of the local systems where these things have been seen. It leaves a monitor in each, something specifically designed to watch for, and do a spectrographic analysis of, the objects. If any of them show up.”

“These sightings are rare,” said Hutch. “We’ll make a big thing of this, plant the monitors, and see nothing. In the end, we just look silly again.”

Warmth and goodwill literally radiated from Dryden. “We’ve been seeing a lot of them along the Blue route, Hutch. Management has been trying to keep it quiet.”

“The Blue route.”

“It’s our tour of the local area. Capella, Alpha Cephei, Arcturus, places like that.”

“Why would Orion management want to do that? Keep it quiet?”

“They’re afraid it’ll scare away the trade.”

They couldn’t possibly be that dumb. “I doubt they need worry about it. If anything, people would line up to get a good look at moonriders.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell them. But our management is a bit less” — he paused, searching for the right word — “creative, than yours.”

Absolutely, she thought. They don’t get any more creative than Michael. “I’m not excited about the idea.”

Asquith held up his hands. Not your call. “We’re going to do this, Priscilla. I mean, what can we lose? If we don’t take some action, we’ll be closing this place down in a few more years. You want to preside over that?”

“We’ve seen a lot of them,” Dryden continued. “I don’t think it would take very long before you started getting hits. Hutch, I know you’re not excited about this. But please give it a chance. Give the Academy a chance.”

“A mission to look for moonriders,” she said.

Asquith cleared his throat. “I’ll need you to set it up, Priscilla. Have it ready to go within six weeks.”

“What about the monitors?”

“I’ve already talked to Mike.” The Academy’s chief engineer. “They’ll be ready.”

“Okay,” she said. “Whatever you want.”

Dumb. Orion had nothing to lose, but the Academy’s credentials were about to go into the tank.

When one considers the state of the global environment, and of the global economy, the notion of spending enormous sums of money on star travel seems bizarre. There might be more stupid ways to throw money away, but it’s hard to think of one.

— Marie Culverson (G-ME),

The Congressional Daily, Wednesday, February 18

BEEMER OUT ON BAIL

Preacher Will Press Charges

Talking with most people usually involves a search for truth. Talking with congressmen is strictly special effects.

— Gregory MacAllister, “I’ve Got Mine”

Hutch caught a break. The Ron Peifer was coming in Saturday morning with Abdul and his passengers. It meant she could make the dawn flight out of Reagan and be on hand to join the party. That had meant rearranging things with Amy. But the girl didn’t mind. “You’re going to pick me up at four thirty? I’ll be ready.”

“Glad you’ll be there,” Asquith told her. “We should have someone on hand when they come in.”

She invited Tor to go along. But he was still involved in his exhibition. So it happened that Hutch, accompanied by her four-year-old, Maureen, collected Amy Saturday before dawn at the senator’s Virginia home and headed for Reagan. There they caught the shuttle up to Union. Maureen had never been off-world before, and she sat in her harness straining to see out the cabin windows as the vehicle rose through a rainstorm and plunged into a sea of clouds.

It was fun. Hutch felt seventeen again, and they laughed and told jokes and had a good time. Amy took charge of Maureen, and the girls became fast friends. “You said you’ve been up there before,” said Hutch.

“Yes. Years ago with my folks. It had something to do with work, and Mom and I went with Dad and we spent a few days there. We stayed in the Starview.” The hotel. “And I was also there last year with my class.”

“Why do you want to be a pilot?”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted. Don’t ask why. I can’t give you a reason. My father’s not happy about it, but” — she shrugged — “it’s what I want.”