Echo. Part 27

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

The SOP as you approach Skydeck is to turn control of the s.h.i.+p 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." "Chase, we have a message for you."

I thought it would be from Robin. Hoped Hoped it would. "Go ahead, Ops." 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 h.e.l.lo. 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."

TWENTY-FOUR.

In the end, all matters of significance emanate from, or are relayed through, a bar.

-Kesler Avonne, Souls in Flight I had three days off before going back on the Blue Route. Without leaving Skydeck, I put my condo up for sale. That drew a call from Robin. "I was sorry to hear about it," "I was sorry to hear about it," he said. he said. "I was hoping you'd change your mind." "I was hoping you'd change your mind."

"I guess I could get a job somewhere as a secretary."

"I'm serious, Chase."

"I know."

"Are you coming down? I can't get away to go to the station."

"I thought we'd broken up."

"I was hoping you'd decided you couldn't get along without me."

"Oh, yes. I can see why you'd expect that to happen." I didn't really want to go down. I'd use half my free time traveling. But I needed a distraction after the Gonzalez Gonzalez. "Tomorrow," I said.

"Good. You want me to pick you up at the terminal?"

"That'll work."

"Give me a time."

"I'll be on the midmorning flight. Be there around eleven."

"I'll be in school."

"Yeah. I forgot. I'll take a cab. Let's just make it for tomorrow evening. Maybe we can go to a show or something."

"I'd like that."

I was tempted to call Alex. See how he was doing. But it seemed best to leave him alone. And in the meantime I had the rest of the day to relax. I decided to do what professional pilots always do when they have time on their hands.

There were about two hundred of us based at the station. Approximately half frequent the Pilots' Club or at least show up there on occasion. Even among those who don't, who are married or who for one reason or another don't socially fit the scene, there's often operational contact. What I'm trying to say is that we know one another fairly well. Running vehicles through the void can be a lonely business, especially, as I'd been discovering, when you have a s.h.i.+pful of pa.s.sengers. And I know how that sounds, but it's true. So we tend to stay in touch.

On that evening, the day before I would be heading groundside again, about thirty people were in attendance. Most were pilots; a few were friends or spouses. Soft music filled the place, the volume kept low to allow conversation. There was a lot of laughter, and occasionally some loud voices.

I guess I looked unsure of myself, or worried, or something, because Bill Wright, who'd gotten certified at the same time I had, appeared out of nowhere and asked whether I was feeling okay.

"Sure," I said. "I'm fine, Bill."

He was easygoing, quiet, a guy who had never quite gotten over the fact that he was piloting interstellars. It had been a dream since he was four years old, and it had actually happened. He owned an amiable smile, had pale skin, and the kind of jaw you a.s.sociated with leading men. "It's good to see you again, Chase. Can I buy you a drink?"

Absolutely.

He wandered over to the bar while I grabbed a table. He came back balancing the drinks and some nuts. "How you doing, Chase? Haven't seen you for a couple years. You still working for that antique guy?"

I hadn't really met Bill until the night of the commissioning ball. We'd swapped numbers and gone out a few times before he took off for some distant place. I didn't remember where. "No," I said. "Not anymore, Bill. I'm working for Rigel now." The drinks were white rainbows, with a dash of karissy and two cherries on top. "You still with Intercon?"

"Yes," he said. "Best job on the planet." Intercon provided tours. But they were strictly in-system two-day operations. Out and back. Nothing like World's End. "How do you like Rigel?"

I tried my drink. "It's good."

"I don't hear a lot of enthusiasm."

"I'm still getting used to it. Just got hired, in fact."

"I worked for WebCor for a while. Same kind of slot, hauling freight and pa.s.sengers back and forth. Mostly to Dellaconda and Toxicon."

"Why'd you leave?"

"Got bored. Always the same run."

We talked about old times, and I bought the second round. A young woman came over and made off with him, and I found myself wandering around the room, talking to old friends and making new ones.

Some of them knew about my connection with Alex. "You left that cushy job, Chase? You must be out of your mind."

And: "You went out to Salud Afar, right? My G.o.d, Chase, I've been in this business for almost a century, and I've never gotten farther than the run out to Valedor."

And: "Chase, you know if Benedict is looking for a replacement? He is? Would you be willing to put in a word for me?"

I was surprised to see Eddie Kirkewicz, who'd married one of the women I'd gone through training with. Eddie recognized me and waved me over, without stopping what he was saying: "-been out to the City on the Crag. My favorite spot out there is Archie's. You haven't? They especially like pilots. If you get there, tell Marty I said h.e.l.lo. The big guy behind the bar." He jabbed a finger in my direction. "Chase, you haven't changed a bit. How you doing?"

Toward the end of the evening someone mentioned World's End. Donna Carpenter, a veteran pilot whom I knew only from the Club, was in the conversation. She responded about some experiences she'd had with them. And when I had a chance, I asked her what it had been like working for them.

"I didn't work for them," she said. "Harry did." I had no idea who Harry was. "He retired a few years ago. Never thought I'd see the day." She looked wistful. "Harry always said he'd die on the bridge."

"Instead he pulled the pin?" I asked.

"I loved Harry. He was really a good guy. Can't believe he's gone."

There were four or five of us at the table. One of the other people pointed out that Harry had only retired. "You're talking as if he died."

"Same thing," she said.

"When did he work for World's End?" I asked.

"For about the last twenty years."

d.a.m.n. I wanted to get up and walk away. Go talk with someone about politics or religion. Anything but World's End. But I just couldn't let go. "I knew a pilot from that era, too."

"Who's that?"

"Well, not really that that era. Turn of the century, really." era. Turn of the century, really."

"Who?"

I didn't want to mention Rachel's name. So I went with my number two guy. The scout. "Hal Cavallero."

"Oh, yeah." Donna paused. "That name rings a bell." She'd had a little too much to drink. "I remember the name from somewhere. I don't think I ever met him." There was no way to know her age. Somewhere between twenty-five and a hundred and forty. She looked good. Blond hair, an easy smile. She wore a red jacket with a s.h.i.+p's name scrawled across the front: STARCAT.

Somebody else commented that he'd heard World's End had been a great place to work. But Donna's thoughts were elsewhere. "Cavallero," she said. "I know that name." She seemed lost in thought for a few moments. Then she brightened. "Sure. That's the one. Hal Cavallero. I did did meet him." meet him."

"Where was that?"

"Here. At the Club. I was in here one evening. With Harry." That set her off on Harry again, and I had to guide her back. "Must have been twenty, thirty years ago. Cavallero came in. A little guy. With red hair."

"That sounds like him," I said.

"He had a big fight with Rachel Bannister. You know her?"

"I met her once," I said, trying to sound casual. "A fight about what?"

She shrugged. "d.a.m.ned if I know." Donna was drinking dark wine. She studied it for a moment. "Bannister was a cute little thing. I can still see it. She was sitting over there in that corner table." She looked that way. "She was another of the World's End pilots."

"So what happened?"

"He came in and sat down. Cavallero did. There were a couple of guys with him. Or women, I really don't remember. I mean, this was a long time ago." She stopped for a breath. "Anyhow, Rachel got up, walked over, and just stood there staring down at him. He didn't see her at first, but then he did. And he said something, and she she said something. I wasn't close enough to hear much of it. But I caught the end." said something. I wasn't close enough to hear much of it. But I caught the end."

"What was that?"

"She told him she hoped he burned in h.e.l.l."

"That sounds pretty serious."

"That's what she said."

"What did Cavallero do?"

"I don't know. Next time I looked over, he was gone."

"You ever ask Rachel what it was about?"

"I didn't know her well enough to do that. But Suze would probably know."

"Who's Suze?"

"Suze Castor. His ex. She lives over in the Starlight."

Seventeen years before, long after she'd divorced Cavallero, Suze had married another pilot, Lance Peabody. Lance was currently on his way to Omicron IV with a load of physicists who were studying a biosystem that had developed in a methane environment. Or something like that.

I got some pictures of her from the data banks but decided it wouldn't be a good idea simply to go knocking on her door. Instead, I waited for her next morning in the hotel dining room, where I nursed several cups of coffee. But she didn't show up, and eventually I moved out into the lobby, just in time to see her come through one of the doorways, pa.s.s the desk, and start out of the building.

I followed at a discreet distance.

She looked pretty good. The kind of woman who will always attract stares. She had sharply defined features, with brown hair cut short in the fas.h.i.+on of a female executive. She wore an expression that suggested she could take care of herself.

She looked in some shop windows and eventually went into Karl's Dellacondan Restaurant. They were showing her to a table as I wandered in. They put me on the opposite side of the room. I started another cup of coffee. Then, after a few minutes I got up and went over. "Excuse me," I said, "but aren't you Suze Castor?"

She looked up, surprised. "Yes, I am. And you're-?"

"Chase Kolpath. I work for Rigel."

"Oh." She gave me an inquisitive smile. "How did you know my name?"

I tried to look puzzled. "We've met somewhere. I think maybe the Pilots' Club?"

"I haven't been in there in a year or more."