Echo

TWENTY-THREE

We were an hour and forty minutes late getting under way. Lombard and Eun offered no explanation, no apology, no indication they were even aware of holding up the flight. They simply came on board and behaved as if nothing had happened. I wondered whether they had done it deliberately, thinking it would impress the rest of us with their importance. Or maybe they were trying to impress themselves.

The flight itself was okay. I spent most of my time mingling with the passengers, and even managed to overlook the rudeness of the two VIPs. Eun, though, seemed decent enough. He was the junior guy, and it became rapidly apparent who the troublemaker was.

We ran some VR, turned the kids and some of the adults loose in the entertainment section, and played bingo. The passengers, given a choice of shows, voted for a virtual concert by the Warwick Trio.

A couple of the passengers drank too much, and that became a problem. Jack advised me about the standard procedure for handling drunks, which was to give them a whiff of a nephalic. That brought them back down.

I spent a fair amount of time on the bridge, talking to Jack. I told him about Rachel, and how I’d bailed out on Alex, and how I hated my life. I don’t think I realized how gloomy I’d gotten until I finally broke down and had those conversations with the AI. He listened and didn’t launch into a series of reassurances the way a human would have. AIs are designed to reflect reality, as least as they see it.

“I’ve never understood the concept of guilt,” he said, when I’d finished. “On a superficial level, of course. Do good and avoid evil, and pay a psychological price if you fail to comply. That is simple enough. The problem is that we are really talking about intent. There is no other way to define evil. But sometimes people inadvertently cause damage to others. Sometimes it can’t be helped, and one must choose the lesser of evils. In any case, the fault may result from negligence; it may result from positive action; it may result from indecision. In all of these cases, regardless of intent, the human guilt complex may be expected to cut in.”

“Okay.”

“It’s your conditioning, Chase. You have to get past that. You did not choose to injure Rachel Bannister.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Chase, the incident is unfortunate. But you are not responsible. Even Rachel understood that. Do not punish yourself.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

“You must get control of your conscience.”

But I kept seeing Rachel’s eyes when she told me it wasn’t my fault. And when she got away from me and began to fall. They were full of fear.

Jack showed up in the right-hand seat. It was the first time he’d used a hologram representation. He came across as a father figure, with steel blue eyes and a neatly trimmed white mustache. He wore the same uniform I did, though without the rank designators. “Chase,” he said, “you’ll never be free of this until—”

“Until what?”

“Until you can show that your actions were justified.”

I looked at him a long time. “What if they weren’t?”

“I think that is an unlikely outcome.”

That third flight was a rocky ride, and I was glad to get to Arkon. Almost half the passengers, including Lombard and Eun and the two drunks, got off. The rest waited at the station while cargo was removed and replaced. We routinely stay overnight at the station, and I was glad to be out of the ship. In the morning, we were on our way to Arcturus.

Among the passengers we picked up were a married couple who were at each other’s throat the rest of the voyage. Not that they were screaming at each other, or fighting, per se. But they glared a lot. Neither could manage a civil tone. And the atmosphere in the cabin changed accordingly. The party climate went away, and we tiptoed around each other. I remember thinking that we needed the drunks back.

Eighteen days after leaving Rimway, we docked at Earth’s orbiter. Everybody disembarked, including the happy couple. I wandered down to the local Pilots’ Club.

There was a four-day layover. Then, with a new load of cargo and new passengers, the Jack Gonzalez was on its way back.

The SOP as you approach Skydeck is to turn control of the ship over to Operations, and they bring you in. Minutes after I’d done so, they were back on the circuit. “Chase, we have a message for you.”

I thought it would be from Robin. Hoped it would. “Go ahead, Ops.”

“Eliot Statkins wants to talk to you as soon as you get in.”

Statkins was Rigel’s director of operational personnel. “Any idea what it’s about?”

“Negative. Maybe they’re going to promote you.”

“I’m sure. Okay, thanks, champ.”

Statkins was a little guy who’d lost most of his hair, and who, on the couple of times I’d seen him, looked confused. He did nothing during the meeting to change my impression. He had to think about why I was there. He glanced down at his desk as if checking on his lines. Made the sort of faces you might when arriving at difficult decisions. And all this before he even said hello. Finally, he got settled. “Hi, Chase,” he said. “Have a seat.” He was probably somebody’s brother-in-law. The rumor was that he’d never been off-world.

I sat down.

“I have good news for you.”

“Well,” I said, “I’m glad to hear it.”

He opened a folder. “We’re going to make you permanent, Chase. And we intend to raise you to a grade twelve. Congratulations.”

A twelve was one level above the base grade for a pilot, but I was glad to take it. “Thanks, Eliot,” I said.

“You’ll be happy to hear you’re going to stay on the Blue Route. That’s the one you have now, of course.” Did he really think I might not know that? “You’ll run on the same schedule, so you can start making whatever long-term plans seem appropriate. We’ve already arranged permanent quarters at the Starlight.”

“Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome. Glad to have you on board.”