Starhawk

Chapter 14

IF YOU SPEND twenty-seven years in space, nineteen of them piloting interstellars, you tend to lose contact with the bonds of Earth. Friends wander away, your family dissipates until only a few cousins and nephews remain, and the neighborhood in which you grew up changes so much that it’s no longer recognizable. Visit, and you’re a stranger. Consequently, Jake had no reason to return to Pittsburgh. Instead, he’d always liked remote places. Growing up, he’d thought that one day he’d like to live on an island. Or a mountaintop. It was probably the same drive that took him to the stars.

The Blue Ridge was a natural place for him to settle. His cabin was located halfway up a mountain, near Radford, Virginia, with a spectacular view of Claytor Lake. He had a few acquaintances but no friends in the area. It was his kind of country—rugged, beautiful, a place where you could expect to be left alone. It had never occurred to him that when the day came on which he actually settled into the cabin, he might not want to be left alone.

He’d visualized a different sort of retirement, one in which his colleagues, over the course of his last few months, would tell him how much they’d miss him, in which his bosses would acknowledge his work with a certificate, which he’d frame and hang over the sofa. There’d be a farewell party at the end. He’d expected to come to it with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that he’d done exactly what he’d wished with his life and with the knowledge that it had counted for something. He would arrive on the Blue Ridge bearing the respect of the professionals with whom he’d worked. Of people who’d been around a while. And of people like Priscilla, who were just starting and would form the next generation. Instead, he couldn’t even look into the eyes of those whom he’d known all these years. Least of all, into Priscilla’s.

She’d pretended everything was okay. But she knew what he’d done. And God help him, if he were put in the same situation today, he’d probably do the same thing. Stall and pretend he didn’t know what Joshua was really saying until he went below and shut off the air.

It was raining when he arrived at the cabin. He’d never been here before for more than a couple of weeks at a time. But it had officially been his home for nine years. He dropped his bags on the front deck, listening to the downpour and the wind while the lock clicked open. No other building was visible although at night, a few places across the slopes would light up. And, of course, if he was watching at the right moment, he’d be able to see the maglev going through the valley on its way to Roanoke.

He went inside and closed the door. A sudden rush of rain swept across one of the windows. Jake crossed to the liquor cabinet, opened it, and poured himself a glass of rum. Then he settled into a chair, sipped his drink, put the glass down on a side table, and let his head sink back. It’s not always a good thing, he thought, when you run into desperate circumstances and find yourself in the presence of a hero. You may come out alive, but it was possible nothing else that mattered would survive.

He was a different person now than he had been when he was called to go out and take over Priscilla’s certification flight. He knew more about himself than he had then. He’d been tested and found wanting. And he’d have to live with it.

Well, okay. How many other guys would have been willing to step up in that kind of situation?

He showered and got into fresh clothes. There was nothing in the refrigerator, but he didn’t want to have dinner alone anyhow. Not today. So he went down to Earl’s, where he routinely ate when he was in town.

* * *

IT WAS EARLY, and there were only three or four other customers in the place. He knew the waitresses, and David the bartender. David was a heavyset African-American who knew what Jake did for a living and consequently treated him like a VIP. Earl himself was an invisible presence, a guy who lived in Richmond and owned a chain of bistros.

“What’ll you have, Jake?” asked David. “Been a while.”

“Hi, David.” He sat down at the bar. “A light beer would be good. How’ve you been?”

David gave him a big smile. “Pretty good, actually.” He picked up a glass, filled it, and set it down in front of him. “I’m opening my own business.”

“Really? You’re not leaving here, are you?”

“Yes. This is my last week.”

“Well, congratulations,” said Jake. “You bought a bar?”

“A restaurant. In Charlottesville. I’ll be moving down there next week.” He was muscular, a guy who might have been a linebacker in his earlier days. And he looked happy.

“Good luck with it, David.” He picked up the beer and took a swallow. “What kind of restaurant is it?”

“It’s going to be a Bumpers.” He handed Jake a flyer. “It opens the weekend after next.”

“Knockout waitresses,” said Jake.

David laughed. “Just like here.”

“I hope you make a million up there, David.”

“I hope so, too.” He glanced at the overhead. “How’s life on the space station? I see you helped rescue some girls last week.”

“More or less.”

He had to break off to pour drinks for a couple of customers. Then he was back: “How long you going to be here this time, Jake?”

“I’m home permanently. I’ve retired.”

“Really? You’re pretty young to be doing that, aren’t you?”

“I wish.”

“Are you going to be living here?”

“For a while, anyhow.”

“Well, good. I hope you’ll come over to Charlottesville to see me occasionally.”

“I’ll do that, David.”

“I’ll tell you something, though. If I could fly one of those things that you do, I don’t think I’d ever quit.”

* * *

WHEN HE’D FINISHED his dinner, Jake went back up to the cabin and turned on the HV. He needed to get a couple of women in his life. Maybe that would help him break out of this mood. There were a few places in the area he could try. But not tonight.

He settled onto his sofa and looked for something to watch. He skimmed over cooking shows, talking heads going on about the presidential campaign, more talking heads discussing a woman who’d gotten dumped and responded by murdering her boyfriend, the boyfriend’s father, and a pizza-delivery guy who’d gotten seriously unlucky. He found an Ed Brisbane comedy, but he’d seen it. And a science-fiction thriller with a man and woman crawling through a pipe pursued by a spidery beast.

Yuk.

He was still looking when his link sounded. He lowered the volume on the HV. “Hello?”

“Mr. Loomis? This is Sheila Pascal. I’m calling for ITI.” Interstellar Transport, Inc. “We understand you’ve retired.”

“That’s correct.”

“Mr. Loomis, we need an experienced pilot. We’d like very much to talk with you. Maybe bring you on board.”

“No, thank you, Sheila. I have no plans to go back.”

“Well, yes, that’s what we heard.” Her voice warmed. “We’d make it worth your while, Mr. Loomis. We are moving people and cargo out to several stations. You’d find the work interesting and rewarding—”

“Thanks, Sheila. But I’ll have to pass.”

“Okay, Mr. Loomis. I’m sorry to hear it. We expect to keep the job open for another forty-eight hours or so. So you have time to get in touch with us if you change your mind. I’ll hope to hear from you.”

* * *

JAKE WAS STANDING on the front deck in a heavy jacket watching the sun dip below the mountains. It was cold. November in the Blue Ridge. A steady wind was roiling the tree limbs. He was about to go inside when his link sounded. The ID signaled an unknown caller. “Jake?” A male voice. Familiar.

“Yes,” he said.

“This is Leon.”

“Leon?” His jaw dropped.

“I need to see you.”

For a long moment he stared at the link. “Leon, you didn’t really do that, did you?”

The wind murmured in the trees. “Yes,” he said. The word hung in the vast mountain desolation. “God help me, Jake, yes. I did it. It wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did.”

Jake was surprised that he felt no sudden rage. Only a cold lack of emotion. “You know about Joshua?”

“Yes. I know.” Something cackled. “Jake, I’m just a couple of minutes away. Can I come by? I need to talk to you.”

“You know where I am?”

“Yes. Please, Jake.”

“All right. Come on over.”

* * *

DESPITE THE COLD, he waited on the deck. The view was spectacular. Snow-covered mountains, Claytor Lake trailing away to the southwest. The woods were silent, but somewhere he heard kids laughing. Probably the Conway cabin, the only one nearby, though it wasn’t visible. Gradually, the laughter subsided and was replaced by the sound of a car coming up the mountain road. The only thing he could think of at that moment was the pleasure it would give him to throttle Leon Carlson.

The car came in through the trees and pulled off into the driveway behind his two-door Ford Lance. Leon got out, looked up at him, closed the car door, and simply stood with slumped shoulders. “Hello, Jake,” he said.

“You know the Feds are after you?”

“Yeah. I know.”

They stood staring at each other until finally Jake reached back, opened his door, and held it. Leon climbed the three steps onto the deck. He hesitated at the entrance until Jake motioned him inside. “Jake,” he said, “I’d give anything if I could go back and change what I did.”

“Yeah. I don’t guess you get a do-over, do you? Not when you kill somebody.”

“No, you don’t. I’m going to have to live with that. I thought—Well, Jake, you don’t know what we’re doing out there. We’re destroying an entire world. Everything on it is dying.”

“I understand about that, Leon. But how does that justify your putting a bomb on a goddam interstellar?”

“I—I just got it wrong. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

“You could’ve taken out those kids, too.”

“Damn it, Jake, there weren’t supposed to be any kids. There was only supposed to be Drake and the shipment. I had it set up so he’d dock at the Selika station, and an alarm would go off and warn him about the bomb. There would have been time for him to get away from it. I was trying to make a statement. It’s all I wanted to do. Find a way to alert people about what’s happening.”

They sat down in the living room. Jake got some scotch and filled two glasses. “Here.” He set Leon’s on the side table. “What do you want me to do? You want me to help you get out of the country somewhere? Is that what this is all about?”

“No, Jake. My life is over. I just want you to cut me some slack.”

“In what way?”

“I want to apologize. I know what you went through.”

“No, you don’t. You have no idea what I went through. I stood aside out there and let Joshua kill himself. Who do I get to apologize to?”

“I’m sorry, Jake. That’s why I’m here. I couldn’t just let this thing hang. I can’t do anything now except this—” He finished the drink in a swallow and stood. “I’m sorry. I’d change it if I could.” He started toward the door but stopped. “If you want to call the police, they can pick me up on the road.” His voice broke. He was almost in tears. “Or, if you want, I’ll wait here for them to come for me.”

“You’re right, Leon. You really screwed it up.” Jake stayed unmoving in his chair.

Leon opened the door and looked back at him. “Good-bye, Jake,” he said. Then he was gone.

* * *

NEWSDESK

HOMICIDE RATE IN CITIES RISING AGAIN

Philadelphia Worst in Nation with 63 Dead So Far

Projected to Reach 70 by Year’s End

EBERLE HAMPTON DEAD AT 122

Cause of Death Uncertain

Beloved Vocalist Founded Child Rescue

SPACE STATION TO UPGRADE SECURITY

New Systems Already in Place

PRESIDENT NORMAN PARDONS TURKEY

Representatives from Both Parties Attend New White House Dinner

HIGH IQ LINKED TO COMIC BOOKS

Early Childhood Activities May Count More Than Genes

RED SOX SIGN BOOMER LYSON IN RECORD DEAL

ISRAEL, PALESTINE HOST WORLD CHESS TOURNAMENT

MCGRUDER BLASTS NORMAN ON ECONOMY AS RACE HEATS UP

Tells Supporters “It’s All About Jobs”

DENTIST DROWNS WHILE RESCUING KIDS

Helps Two Girls Survive Overturned Canoe

CHURCH ATTACK RENEWS PLASMA WEAPON DEBATE

NLA Resists Attempts to Impose Ban

ZANZIBAR FERRY OVERTURNS

Six Dead; Captain Sought