“Shoot at it, maybe? Or stall us insystem? I think that was Capella’s advice. Fine for her. But not for us.”
“You’re running scared! You’re more scared of Marie Hawkins than—”
“Than that spotter? No.”
“Then, damn you, quit joking. I don’t know when you’re listening.”
“You could ask.”
“I could take it for granted, if you weren’t such a bastard.”
“Never take anyone’s listening for granted. Children teach you that. Any other divine revelations? Human insights? Moderately wise notions?”
Christian set his hands on the chair arms, to get up. “That I’ve got things to do. I’ve had it. I’m through. I’m not listening, after this.”
“Oh, give me some news. This isn’t it.”
“Damn you, pay attention to something but your ego! Capella says the other faction wants her—with the navigational data she has in her head. She’s saying they’d go after us to get her.”
“Ah. Information. Finally.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
Austin shrugged. “I’ll let you know.”
“What kind of an answer is that?”
“Exactly that. Go see to your own business. I’m offduty, you’re on, good luck, good night, stay out of trouble. Meanwhile, consider that the woman you’re sleeping with might just possibly have motives of her own.”
“Oh, that’s right, drive a wedge, plant suspicion—”
Austin rocked his chair back. “God, this is boring. Wake me when you have a thought.”
“Damn you!”
“Still waiting.”
God, he wanted to get up, walk out… he hated Austin in this damned, superior mode, this smug, condescending spite. He’d interrupted. He knew the pose.
“Father, sir,—what were you about to say?”
“Ah. About Capella? Her advice to stay in port… was better for her than for us.”
“Because we’re running from the Hawkins ship?”
“Because we can’t keep this ship sitting at dock running up charges, boy, basic economics.”
“Your real reason, damn you.”
“Through putting words in my mouth?”
“Yes, father. “ Through clenched jaw. “Please.”
“Because that ship is going to sit out there at Tripoint and wait as long as we can wait. Very simple. We can’t avoid it. We can’t outwait it. I’m afraid your friend Capella would like to stay at dock simply because there’s a chance of a ship coming in that she can skip to, quietly, so when Corinthian does meet with trouble… she won’t be on it.”
“Forgive me, but I don’t read her that way.”
“I used to be that naive.”
A biting remark was on his tongue. He didn’t vent it. “Can we talk about the ship, sir? It’s going to overjump us. I agree it’s going to be waiting for us when we get there. It’s going to read our entry shock and it’s going to fire on it,”
“Yes.”
“Then what do we do?”
“If they know precisely where we’re going, not damn much we can do. We hope that’s not the case. We’ve got til our wave reaches them and their response, whatever it is, reaches us. We hope that’s a long distance, that’s what we do.”
“That can’t be all! They could be sitting right on our drop-point—”
“Why would they want Capella?”
“Because she knows a lot of Fleet drop points. Not just this one. Because they don’t want to blow up the ship she’s on.”
“Possibly. Also—possibly because she knows the Tripoint drop and they don’t. It’s a lot of space to search, for something the size of a freighter. You can bet the dissident factions have tried to find it and you can hope they’ve failed. If they need her, we’ll have whatever advantage she can give us. And she’s not anxious to die. Or fall into their hands. So I do trust Capella—that she’ll do what she does very well.”
“So what do you want me to set up for you, on the boards? Any changes in config? In defaults, in display?”
“No. Nothing unusual.”
“Dammit, this isn’t a game.”
“You’ve seen that. Good. This is not a drill. In the event of this actual emergency… we’ll hand off thirty minutes before jump. Meanwhile, I need my nap.”
“You’re not actually going to sleep.”
“I think so. I’ll have my dinner. Catch an hour or so. See you. Good luck. Don’t screw things too badly.”