Infinity Beach - Jack McDevitt [103]
“We’re on fire,” Kim said.
“For God’s sake, young woman,” he complained, “how could that happen?”
“Let’s talk about it later, Professor. This way out.” But he turned back into the room, threw open a suitcase and started scooping his clothes into it.
“You haven’t time for that,” Kim said, letting her voice rise. And then, inspired: “This whole place could blow at any time.”
That was enough for Webley. He threw the lid down, hefted the bag under one arm, grabbed some clothes, and banged out of the room. “Incompetent,” he snarled. “Everywhere I go, people are so goddamn incompetent!”
“This way, sir.” Kim pointed him to the boarding tunnel. He disappeared into it.
Outside, an alarm had begun to sound.
“All clear,” she told Solly.
“Good. Close the hatch.”
“How?”
“Let it go. I’ll do it from here. Come on up and strap in. We’ll be leaving in a minute.”
“But Webley hasn’t had a chance to get clear.”
“Is he in the tunnel?”
“Yes.”
“He’ll be fine. The tunnel seals automatically when we button up. Don’t worry about it.”
Moments later she slipped into the pilot’s room and sat down beside Solly. “It strikes me,” she said, “that when this is over, I’m going to owe apologies to a lot of people.”
“Including me,” he said.
Kim got up again and looked at the seat. “See.” She pointed. “You can see an imprint.”
“Control,” Solly told the mike, “This is Hammersmith. We have an emergency departure. Request instructions, please.”
“Hammersmith, Control. State the nature of your emergency. We just got a report of a fire.”
“Negative that, Control. The report resulted from a communication problem at this end.”
“What is your emergency?”
Kim reclaimed her seat and the harness came down around her shoulders.
“Taratuba’s false vacuum has gone premature.”
Kim looked at him, surprised, and mouthed What?
“Wait one, Hammersmith”
“Solly,” she said, “do they even know what Taratuba is?”
“I doubt it. It’s better that way. Fewer questions.”
She scanned the bank of screens, which provided a 360-degree view. They were free of encumbrance save for a forward utility line. All Solly had to do was make the disconnect up front and there was nothing to stop their leaving. “Why don’t we just go?” she asked.
“We could hit something,” he said. “And anyway somebody would immediately call the Patrol. Moreover, if we somehow escaped being jailed for theft, it would guarantee my loss of license.”
“Hammersmith, Control. Departure is authorized. Data is being fed now.”
Solly acknowledged, watched his array of lamps flicker with the download, and then spoke to the ship’s AI. “Ham, disconnect mooring and let’s go.”
“Complying,” said the ship.
“‘Let’s go’? That’s all there is to it? ‘Let’s go’?”
The ship began to back away from the Marlin facility.
“I guess I’ve just revealed a trade secret, Kim. And when we get where we’re going, I’ll tell it ‘okay.’”
“Seriously—?”
“Seriously, human pilots are only on board to deal with problems. Emergencies. And probably to soothe the concerns of passengers, who’ve never been happy with the idea of purely-automated vehicles.”
“Taxis are pure automation,” she said. “Nobody minds those.”
“You know how to fly the damned thing yourself if you have to.”
They were easing away from the orbiter, lining up with their marker stars. “Acceleration will commence in one minute,” said the AI.
“Hammersmith, Control.” It was a new voice, deeper, with authority.
“Go ahead, Control.”
“This is the supervisor. You are directed to return to the dock.”
“Solly.” Kim pointed at one of the displays, on which a long ominous greyhound of a ship was moving in close.
“I see it.”
“They know.”
“Sure they know. Our passenger has been talking to them.” He opened the mike: “Control, we are unable to comply.”
“Solly—”
“Ham,” he said, “proceed with programmed acceleration.”
“Proceeding.”
Kim felt a gentle push into her seat as the ship swung around to its heading and began