That drew more gasps and pleas. “Don’t.”
“My kids.”
“Please don’t do this.”
Somebody in the concourse began screaming that her daughter was inside.
“You have three minutes,” James said, “to make it happen. I have friends on the ground who will let me know when it does.”
“Okay,” Frank said. “We’re trying. We’re working on it. But you have to give us some time. You have to—”
“No, I don’t,” he said. “I don’t have to do anything. Just get it done.”
“All right. We’re doing everything we can. May I ask what this is about?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. As soon as the hookup is complete.”
“Okay. Listen, can we make an arrangement?”
“What did you have in mind, Frank?”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d allow the people to leave the restaurant. There’s no need for them—”
“Forget it. I don’t want to hurt anybody. But I’ll get a lot more attention if things stay as they are.”
Drake moved in close to her. “If he sets the bomb off in there, Priscilla, none of them will survive. What happened to security? How’d he get a bomb up here?”
“I have no idea.”
The guards were signaling for them to move. “Drake,” she said, “I have to get to the command center. I’ll see you later.”
“Why?”
“It’s where I’m supposed to report in case of emergency.”
More hatches were closing. That entire section of the concourse was being sealed off. Frank let James see he was listening to his link. Then he said, “You’re a graduate student at Western Indiana University.”
“You guys are pretty good.”
“James Addison. You’re working on a master’s in literature.” He sounded surprised.
“I’m not much interested in delaying tactics, Frank.”
“I’m not trying to delay anything. I’m just wondering why you ended up here threatening strangers.”
Patricia came out of an elevator and jogged through the door leading to the command center. Priscilla followed her into the room, where Abel Parker, wearing an earpod, sat at the comm panel. The restaurant scene was on a wide display.
James looked painfully casual. “So what are you going to do, Frank? Do I get my airtime?”
Abel reacted to something that had just come in on his earpod, gave Patricia a thumbs-up, and leaned over to speak into the mike. “Frank, tell him he’s on. We’ve got a feed through Worldwide. Tell him to look at the imager. It’s over the main door.”
Frank passed the message on, and James looked directly out of the display. The nervous look was gone. “What about it, Monk?” he said.
Abel listened and then nodded. “He said yes. They’ve got it.”
“Okay,” said James. “Just so you know, Frank, when this is over, my buddy’s going to let me know how things went. If I don’t hear from him, or if I hear anything I don’t like, you can say good-bye to everybody. You understand?”
“Yes. I understand.” Frank pointed toward the entrance. “Look that way. The imager’s over the doors.”
“Okay. Good.” James turned and smiled. Everybody’s best friend. “Hello,” he said. The good humor didn’t come through. “My name’s James Addison. In case anybody out there’s wondering, I’m an American. Originally from Aurora, Kansas. We are currently in the process of killing off an entire world, every living thing on it. Most of you are probably not aware of this, but the World Space Authority, which is financed by us, by the citizens of this country, and by the citizens of a lot of other countries, is aiding and abetting this vicious genocide.
“That world has as many animals, as many life-forms, as we have on Earth. And we are massacring them. Killing every last one. I wish I had pictures to show you. I mean, many of these are very much like the cats and dogs and parrots and rabbits we keep as pets.
“They call it terraforming, and the world I’m talking about has been code-named Selika.
“If you’re wondering how and why we are going to kill these helpless creatures, it’s because we want their world for colonization. We want to take it over. But before we can do that, we have to change the environment. We have to change the mixture of gases in the atmosphere. We have to make it warmer. We have to produce more rain. And those actions may sound harmless, but they are lethal to creatures that have been living there for several billion years.
“And this is only the beginning. We’re initiating the same process on another world. God knows when, if ever, we’ll stop.
“That brings us to the question of what we can do. You and me. There is currently a bill before the Congress—”
Patricia rolled her eyes. “Full-scale nut job.”
“This bill,” James continued, “is HR210. It provides for a halt on terraforming until a further examination of the consequences can be made. It’s not as strong as what we need, which is a total ban, period, with no further debate. But it’s a—” He stopped, lifted a link to his ear, and listened for a moment. Then his face hardened, and he turned toward Frank. “I don’t know whether you’re aware or not, Frank, but they’ve blocked the broadcast.”
“That can’t be right.” Frank, for the first time, lost his cool demeanor. “Give us a minute. Something like this, it takes time to set up. You didn’t give us enough time.”
James shook his head. No. “You don’t allow me to communicate in a rational way—” He lifted the device, stared at it, and showed it to the imager. “You’re not giving me any choice.”
There were gasps and cries from the people in the room. “Please don’t.” “For God’s sake—” “You can’t do this.” “The kids.”
“Please, Mr. Addison.”
Abel was talking into the mike, nodding, looking back at Patricia. “Frank,” he said, “they’re telling us the broadcast is going out.”
Frank took a couple of steps forward. Stopped when James held out a cautionary palm. “Whoever that is on your link,” he said, “they’re giving you bad information. You’re still on.”
James stared back at him. “You’d have no qualms about lying, would you?”
“For God’s sake, I’m not interested in putting all these lives at risk. You’re getting the coverage you asked for.”
James poked at his link. Looked up. Nodded. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “He’s telling me I’m back on. But don’t try that again.” He returned to speech mode: “There are a lot of us who are not going to stand by while these people destroy entire worlds. It’s just starting, and God knows where it will lead. Nobody will benefit from it except outfits like Kosmik. I am warning the people who are behind this: Shut it down, or we will shut it down for you. And shut you down as well.” He drew his right index finger across his throat, signaling that he was finished.
“That’s it?” asked Frank, who was taking no chances.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
James looked around the room. “Everybody may leave now. But go slowly, and don’t anybody get close to me.”
The diners cautiously got up from their tables and started for the doors, where they piled up, waiting for them to open. When finally they did, they hurried out until there remained only Frank, James, and a couple of security people.
“Time to go,” said James.
“What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to extract a price from you people, something to remind you about what we’ve been talking about.”
“What do you mean?”
“Get out of here and seal the doors.”
“Don’t do it, James.”
“Get out, Frank. Or you’ll go with me.”
Frank hesitated, took a step toward the exit, and stopped. He signaled the guards to leave and close the doors. Then he turned back to James. “If you kill us, nobody will ever take you seriously.”
“Get out.” The guards stared at t
hem from outside the window. “Frank,” said James, “you’ve got two minutes.”
Patricia looked around the small room, eyes desperate. “We need a distraction.”
“The outside projector,” said Priscilla. “Why don’t we throw a comet at him?”
Patricia leaned over the mike. “Frank, we’re going to try to distract him.”
Abel was reaching for a tab. But Patricia pulled his hand away. “No,” she said. “Scare him and he’ll probably loosen his grip. We need something to make him tighten up.” That steady gaze fell on Priscilla. “Abel, do we have an imager?”
He started searching through a cabinet while James repeated his warning. “Here,” he said, producing one from a drawer filled with cable, tools, and instruments.
Patricia took it, pointed it at Priscilla, and tied it into the console. “I need you to do something that’ll catch his attention.”
“What are we talking about?”
“Use your imagination, Priscilla. Distract him.”
“Oh.” She hesitated.
“But that’s all right. Take your time. Why don’t you wait until the bomb goes off?”
Priscilla took a deep breath. She undid the top three or four buttons of her blouse.
“Okay, Abel,” said Patricia. “Let’s do it.”
“Listen, please,” said Frank. “Think about what you’re doing here.”
James stared back at him. “Are you serious, you idiot? You think I’d come here like this without having thought about it long and hard?” He raised both hands over his head, still holding the trigger down. “Get out. Last chance, Frank.”
* * *
PRISCILLA HAD NEVER thought of herself as having pouty lips and smoky eyes. But on that occasion she went all out. She smiled provocatively for the imager and saw her projection appear outside the long window, where usually diners and tourists saw only asteroids and interstellars. Unfortunately, James had his back turned.
But he must have noticed Frank suddenly staring over his shoulder. He turned toward the window and his eyes went wide. Priscilla looked straight into the lens, wishing she could see him from outside the portal so she could look directly into those eyes. She formed the word hello, and inhaled.
And she watched, hoping Frank would make his move, listening for the explosion that seemed inevitable. But her boss only stood quietly until James turned back to him. “Who’s she?” he asked.
“One of our pilots. She thinks I’m crazy for staying in here with you. She was hoping I’d take advantage of the distraction and try to grab the bomb.”
“Why didn’t you do it?”
“It wouldn’t have worked. No way I could hold your hand down on the trigger until help got in here. But more important, you’ve been in here talking about the value of life. Okay, I’m betting I have a better chance if I just leave you to do the rational thing.”
“The rational thing is to blow this place to hell.”
“James, you haven’t hurt anyone yet. Moreover, you’ve become a celebrity. You’ll be able to do more damage to the terraformers by staying alive. And if you kill me, and yourself, and maybe some of these other people, the message you just delivered becomes a joke.”
James turned back to the image beyond the window. And he laughed. “There’s an element to all this I hadn’t considered.”
“What’s that?”
He looked at the bomb. “If I change my mind, how do I get rid of this thing?”
* * *
THE ART MAJESKI SHOW
(Frank Irasco, guest)
MAJESKI: All right, Frank. Did you know what was coming?
IRASCO: I knew they were going to try to distract him. But I had no idea how (laughs). I thought they might try having someone in a clown suit show up in the concourse and start jumping up and down.
MAJESKI: You are kidding, right?
IRASCO: To be honest, Art, I couldn’t think of anything that seemed as if it would have a chance of working. The person you should be interviewing is Priscilla Hutchins.
MAJESKI: The woman who was floating outside the window, right?
IRASCO: Yes. She’s the one. And Patricia McCoy. The director.
MAJESKI: Well, good for them. But tell me, Frank, what about the terraforming? Are we really killing off whole worlds? Is that true?
IRASCO: I’m not an expert, Art, but my understanding is that there is a risk. We just don’t know enough yet. We might wipe out some critical part of the food chain. If that were to happen, yes, I suppose they could lose everything. Though it would take a while.
MAJESKI: One other question, Frank. I was watching the broadcast. It did not get interrupted. So what really happened?
IRASCO: My understanding is that individual stations have control over what they show. Sometimes they use the network feed, sometimes they don’t. The station where his accomplice was reporting from apparently went to something local. Though I can’t imagine a more riveting show.
Chapter 48
PRISCILLA’S ATTITUDE TOWARD Frank had completely changed. When he called her into his office that afternoon, she felt awed in his presence. Who are you? What have you done with Frank Irasco? “That was a pretty gutsy performance out there today,” she said, trying not to sound obsequious.
“Part of the job, Priscilla.” A box of jelly donuts was secured to a side table. “But yes, I’ll admit that was a scary few minutes.” He picked up the box and offered it to her.
She took one. And also got some coffee.
“We have another mission for you,” he said. “I don’t know whether you were aware of this or not, but McGruder’s bringing his campaign here. To the station.”
“I saw that,” she said. “You’re not going to ask me to go shake his hand again, are you?”
“No,” he said.
“Good.”
“I’m going to ask you to be his pilot. But it’s okay. No long flight. He’s only going to Iapetus.”
“You’re kidding.”
“He wants to see the monument.”
“Why? I can’t believe it would help him politically.”
Frank couldn’t restrain a laugh. “You’re terribly cynical for one so young, Priscilla. I hate to think what you’ll be like after you put on a few more miles. Anyhow, three or four members of his team will be going with him. They’ll get out, take some pictures, get back in the ship, and come home. That’s all there is to it.”
“Why on earth does he want to go out there in the middle of the campaign? What’s he expect to gain?”
“I don’t know whether you’ve been following the news, Priscilla, but his campaign isn’t going well. He’s perceived as not very exciting. As stuck with old ideas and unable to adapt to a rapidly changing world. He probably will get the Gold Party nomination, but he’s going up against a sitting president. We both know Norman’s not very popular; but, nevertheless, incumbents are hard to beat. The only reason McGruder’s leading the nomination fight is because nobody else of any substance really wanted into the ring. They’re all waiting for 2200. He needs to shake things up. And I guess this seemed to be a way to do it. It won’t hurt him, by the way, to be seen traveling with the hero who brought the schoolkids home.”
“That’s a little over the top,” she said.
“I calls ’em the way I sees ’em.”
“You’re saying he asked for me?”
Frank’s jaw twitched. “Yes. He did.”
“I’m not excited about hauling politicians around.”
“I thought he was very nice to you when he was here.”
“He was. But I’m not inclined to become part of his campaign. That’s what he did last time.”
“You’re a pilot, Priscilla. It’s what you do. Haul people who need hauling.” He closed his eyes for a moment. Then: “We need you to do this. Look, he may become the next president. If that happens, we need to do everything we can to get him on our side.”
“Even if he thinks we should be shut down?”
“Frank, even if the voters were dumb enough to put him in, he wouldn’t be able to shut us down. There are a few other countries involved in the Authority.”
“Come on, Priscilla. I’m asking you to take one for the team.” He picked up one of the donuts and took a bite. “You’re always talking about how you want to sit on the bridge instead of in your office. Okay. Do it. And don’t screw it up.”
“I assume we won’t be using the Starhawk?”
He looked momentarily puzzled. “Oh, you mean the Bomb? Priscilla, you do tend to be a trifle sarcastic. But no, we’ll want something a little more classy. Fortunately, the Thompson’s available.”
* * *
THE SYDNEY THOMPSON was bigger, more spacious, and considerably more elegant than the Baumbachner. Of course, the Baumbachner paled in significance to some of the fishing boats along the Jersey shore. Priscilla was seated on the ship’s bridge running status checks while her passengers’ luggage was being placed in their cabins by the handlers when Yoshie Blakeslee called. “The governor’s arrived,” she said. “They’re ready to board.”
“Okay, Yoshie. The air lock is open. Send them up the tunnel.”
“They want you to be waiting at the hatch, Priscilla.”
“I’m a little busy at the moment.”
“Frank says do it.”
“Okay.” She got up, straightened her cap, went back through the cabin, and assumed a position outside the air lock. There were voices in the tunnel. Then laughter. And finally, the passengers themselves. The governor was flanked by a woman and three guys. He was looking back over his shoulder, waving at a group of trailing reporters. Then he turned, saw her, and broke into the broad smile that had been enchanting millions during the campaign. That, despite her dislike for politicians, had impressed her during their first meeting.
He came forward and shook her hand while one of the males took pictures. “Priscilla,” he said, “it’s so good to see you again. I’m glad they were able to fit you into the schedule.”
The guy with the imager took more pictures. He was older than the others, with an extended belly and a ridge of gray hair circling his skull. “That’s Al Devlin,” said McGruder. “He’s one of my staff.” The reporters were taking pictures, too, and he shook her hand some more. “I read about your flight out to that place in the middle of nowhere. You lead an exciting life, Priscilla.” He pointed at the woman. “This is Vesta D’Ambrosia, my campaign manager.” She was tall, middle-aged, with bored eyes. She did not give the impression she was anxious to see Iapetus.
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