Read Online Penumbra by Eric Brown - Free Book Online

determine the truth, so wrapped up as it was with the deception of self-interest and vanity. The thought that his actions as an adult might have been conditioned by events in his childhood filled him with fear, a terrible sense of not being in control of his motivation, and therefore his destiny.
     
    He finished his beer and walked back through Mojave to his car. He drove slowly through the shimmering heat of late afternoon, aware of the effects of the alcohol. He arrived at his dome with the grateful sense of having gained refuge.
     
    Mood-jazz began a gentle syncopation as he entered the lounge. He turned it off. The com-screen came on and the picture divided into small squares, each bearing a frozen face. He wondered why he should have been bombarded by so many calls. As he sat down in his swivel chair, he understood: these people were all friends or business associates of his father. He cycled through the messages of condolence, the dispiriting repetition of inadequate sentiments: ‘Your father was a fine, God-fearing gentleman, Joshua. He’ll be missed by everyone at the Church’; ‘I’m calling to offer my condolences, Mr Bennett . . .’ Others were evidence of a side of his father’s character that he had managed to keep hidden from Bennett: ‘I was saddened to hear of your father’s passing. I worked with him back in ninety-five and I never met a more caring and compassionate man’; ‘Your father helped me out in a time of need back in the fifties, Mr Bennett. I’ve never forgotten him for his kindness.’
     
    Rather than sit through them all and then reply individually, he set his screen to record, and said: ‘Joshua Bennett . . . Thanks for calling. Sorry I was unable to speak to you personally. You’re welcome to attend my father’s funeral, on the twenty-sixth at three p.m. at the Mojave Grave Gardens. Thank you again.’ He sent the recording as a one-off shot to all the callers, then sat back.
     
    He hadn’t eaten since early that morning, but he didn’t feel all that hungry. He was about to take a cold beer out on to the veranda when the screen chimed with an incoming call.
     
    Another of his father’s acquaintances? Or perhaps Julia, calling to initiate a second round of abuse? He pressed the secrecy decal on the touch-pad and the image of a uniformed man in his forties flooded the screen. Belatedly, Bennett recognised Matheson, the flight manager up at Redwood. Only then did he remember his promise to get a report on the accident to Control.
     
    He accepted the call and sat up.
     
    ‘Bennett?’ Matheson stared out at him, his expression uncompromising.
     
    ‘Bennett here. About the report - I know, but I’ve had a few personal matters to sort out down here.’
     
    ‘Forget the report, Bennett. As of now you’re on indefinite suspension. I want you up here in four days, noon western seaboard time, to face disciplinary charges.’
     
    The effects of the beer slowed his response. ‘Disciplinary charges? What the hell . . . ?’
     
    ‘Don’t look so goddamned surprised, Bennett.’ Matheson leaned forward, staring at him. ‘The Viper debacle, remember? The accident? The starship you nearly decommissioned?’
     
    Bennett shook his head. ‘Hey, hold on there. We weren’t at fault. It was a glitch in the Viper’s sub-routine. The ship rejected Ten Lee’s rewrite and—’
     
    ‘Listen up, Bennett. Your reaction time was sloppy, no matter what your excuses. Have you any idea how much your incompetence cost Redwood? The bill for the repair of the Viper and the starship? You’re lucky we can’t sue you for it. You’ve no damned excuses.’
     
    ‘But—’
     
    ‘I’ll see you at noon on the twenty-sixth, Bennett. Out.’
     
    The screen died. The twenty-sixth was the day of his father’s funeral.
     
    He sat back, angry at the injustice. Suspension without pay, a fine or demotion at best. He wondered if Redwood had enough evidence of incompetence to fire him. But Ten