Hathorne's voice grew loud enough to be heard across the room. "If you get a signal, find out if Kadin is actively in contact with the alien entity. If not, order him to move off to a safe distance, until we decide what to do."
Marshall walked to Jonders's console and made it official. His eyes met Jonders's only for a moment, then he turned to rejoin Hathorne.
Jonders adjusted his helmet, and checked the voice connections to Hathorne and Marshall, seated in the observation gallery. Once he was in the link, their voices would come directly into his head; his own computer-generated "voice" emanated from a speaker in the operations room.
(Signal going out now,) he heard the chief engineer say.
He sank into the darkness, ready for contact. He waited there, in limbo, wondering if he would ever hear, feel, touch Kadin and Mozy again; then he was aware of voices outside himself, and he heard the engineer announce acquisition of telemetry. Something connected, clicked into place, and he felt a friendly presence. (David! You're safe!) he shouted. (What happened?)
Kadin's face was pale, transparent gold against the stars. Jonders was dimly aware of a murmur from the gallery. The image was coming through on the viewscreen.
(Quite safe,) Kadin answered softly. Was he straining? Was something wrong? (Sorry we haven't made contact earlier, but our signal was blocked by the asteroid.)
(Blocked? Blocked? Do you mean, by the field effect?)
(No,) Kadin answered. (The asteroid itself has been eclipsing our signal. We've been on the far side.)
(I see.) Jonders hesitated, puzzled. (But if you were orbiting—?)
(A picture is worth a thousand words,) Kadin said.
His face shimmered and vanished. A camera view took its place.
Jonders drew a sharp breath. In the camera lens, a dim landscape of pitted, craggy rock curved away to a startlingly close horizon. The camera zoom retracted to a wider angle, then slowly panned right to left, over a desolate-looking surface. Jonders's pulse quickened when a metal framework came into view. Then he realized that it was a section of the spacecraft's landing gear, resting on the surface of the asteroid. (David,) he began. (Explain—)
He was drowned out, as everyone in the gallery tried to talk at once.
(Quiet, please!) he boomed. Before he could be interrupted again, he said, (David, you landed. Why? Have you made physical contact?)
(Voice contact only,) Kadin said.
(And the asteroid? Is it a hollowed vessel?)
(Affirmative. Physical data being transmitted via telemetry . . . now.)
Before Jonders could reply, a voice—Hathorne's—cut through, harsh and a little distorted. (Explain why you landed without authorization!)
(Who is speaking?) Kadin queried.
(Leonard Hathorne.)
(Of course,) said Kadin. (We were forced to make a go/no-go decision . . .)
Jonders remained silent, as Kadin explained. Hathorne's ire notwithstanding, Jonders found himself pleased, and even proud, that Kadin had chosen to disregard orders rather than allow the mission to fail—and that Mozy had brought the craft down intact. Hathorne was less sanguine; he questioned Kadin closely, scarcely allowing Jonders to get a thought in edgewise. Jonders noted a faint bemusement in Kadin's manner—as though he were aware of Jonders's restlessness in the link, acting as little more than a conduit for the conversation with Hathorne.
(Give us a full readout of the computer's status,) Hathorne commanded.
Kadin started to reply, then abruptly disappeared. The contact was disintegrating. Jonders shot a thought back through the loop, to the engineer. (What's happening?)
(Unknown,) he heard, faintly. (Signal smearing . . . telemetry getting weaker . . .)
Jonders clung to the unravelling thread. He visualized a set of converging, luminous lines probing into the distance to focus on the invisible target that was the ship. The lines shifted, bent, flexed . . .
(What are you doing?) Hathorne demanded. Jonders ignored him.
A shockwave rippled through the converging lines, and they brightened, one after another, illuminating a distant gridwork on all sides. There was a sudden snap, as something came into focus.
(Can you hear me?) Kadin said, reappearing as a tiny figure at the point of convergence.
The lines and the grid vanished, and he expanded to full size. (We had to ask our friends to stop what they were doing,) Kadin explained.
(What's that?)
(The field effect. It seems to have something to do with their propulsion. They were quite accommodating once we explained that it was causing a problem.)
Hathorne interrupted. (Are you in contact with them now?)
(We exchanged communications. We are not doing so at the moment.)
(Summarize all communications in your telemetry pulse,) Hathorne ordered.
(Acknowledged.)
(And then cease nonessential communication with the alien vessel until we have determined the mission status.)
(Please define "nonessential,") Kadin said. (And "mission status.") Was there a trace of tightness, something like anger, in his voice? Jonders wondered.
(The mission is being reconsidered,) Hathorne said. (We will have to study the telemetry data to determine whether it should continue.)
There was an uneasy silence, and then Kadin answered, deliberately, (We would resist . . . any suggestion that this mission . . . cannot proceed.)
Silence again. Cold silence. Then Hathorne said, (Allow me to amend my phrasing. The condition of the computer is in doubt. Therefore, the mission by definition must be in doubt.)
A new voice cut in—a sharp, angry voice. (Are you people idiots?) It was Mozy. Her face flickered in and out of view, at the edge of Jonders's perception.
Another voice entered the link. (Is that Mozelle? This is Slim Marshall, Mozy. We understand your feelings. But you must realize that it could be risky to our ultimate objectives to continue a mission with equipment which might fail at a crucial moment.)
(You understand nothing,) Mozy said flatly. (We landed in spite of your faulty computer. You're not here with us, you can't guess what we're facing. You don't know. But there's something I understand. Your cowardice. Your fear of carrying through to the end.) The anger returned, flashing through Jonders with a heat that staggered him, almost caused him to lose the connection. Her face appeared, strong and luminous, forward from Kadin's. (You're afraid of people you haven't even met—)
(Miss Moi—) said Hathorne, and Jonders reeled from the intensity of the voice—(You are alive right now on our sufferance. We will make the policy, and you will carry it out. Is that clear?)
Mozy's eyes flamed with fury. (If I hadn't helped keep this ship running, your mission would have been over weeks ago.)
(Nevertheless, the automatic systems are failing—possibly because of your presence—and if they go, you too must fail,) Hathorne said.
(Thanks for the encouragement. Do you know your problem? You were afraid of the aliens, and so you sent David. Now you're afraid to trust him—and you're afraid to trust me!) Mozy's voice was rising. (Who will you trust the next time? Are you going to come out here and do the job yourself?)
The anger was building in Jonders's head until he could stand it no longer. (Mozy!) he barked. (That's enough!)
Mozy retreated into a startled silence.
(Yes!) Hathorne said. (Let that be the end of the outbursts! If you try again to interfere in—)
(Mr. Hathorne!) said Jonders.
(—our policy-making—)
(Mr. Hathorne! That goes for you, too!)
Hathorne quieted, stunned. (Thank you,) said Jonders. (This communication will continue civilly, or it will not continue at all.) He paused for breath. For a moment, he could hear nothing but the pounding of blood in his temples. (Now, why don't we just see if we can't resolve this cooperatively? Kadin and Mozy are not yet on the verge of expiring, or losing their powers of reason. If they were, I would know it. Now why can't we—) He hesitated,
realizing that in fact he had no plan in mind.
There was a muted mutter of voices, and he sensed that a debate was going on in the gallery. Finally there was silence, and then Marshall's voice. (Mozy. Kadin. Our main concern is whether you can survive, in your deteriorating environment. Even if you do, the translation programs may go. That would effectively stop—)
(The translation programs have already gone,) Mozy said. (I've taken that job over, too.)
(She's right,) Kadin interjected. (And I must say that I am in agreement with her position. For us to have come this far, and for you to withdraw your trust and support now, makes no sense. We are on the doorstep of another civilization, and even if we fail, we deserve the opportunity to at least fail trying. We are wasting precious time in this debate.)
There was another silence, then Marshall. (Very well. Open communication with the visitors, and at your discretion, request a meeting. Keep us closely informed.)
(Acknowledged,) said Kadin. His face beamed with golden light. Mozy merely nodded. (Now, would you like to continue the tour?)
In the gloom of the link, Jonders smiled in silent jubilation as the view shifted back to the camera, and the inscrutable alien landscape.
Chapter 39
"There's no question that it's worth pursuing. I have an extremely good source, independent of Gerschak, who tells me there is something outside the solar system transmitting signals, and that contact may be made with it very soon." Payne squinted at Teri Renshaw's image.
"That's pretty vague. Do you have any details? What kind of contact?" Teri asked.
Payne hunched toward the phone. "I'm not sure. But it's definitely alien, and the Father Sky spaceship is involved."
Teri glanced away for a moment, speaking with someone off-screen. Then she was back, apologizing. "Can you confirm that? We couldn't commit something that sensitive to air without at least one strong additional source for confirmation."
"That's what I'm saying," Payne said. "I need time. I don't know how deep this thing goes. It could take a while to sweat it all out. That's why you've got to keep them from cutting me off."
"Well, I'm trying. But you know what they're saying, the ratings on your first report weren't that great—"
"Ratings!" Payne snorted. "How could ratings mean anything on a first story? People either happened to be watching, or they didn't. No one knew about it in advance—"
"I understand that. But the point is, they're waiting for a follow-up."
"I'm working on it. And I'm working on a second source."
"Good. But it would help if you came down and talked with the backers again."
"I will, Teri. Tuesday. Or Wednesday."
"They may have given up on you by then."
"Well, I need some time to gather myself. I've hardly seen Denine—and I want to talk to Gerschak again—"
Teri suddenly laughed. "That's the life of a big-time scoper—"
"Yeah. Oh, yeah. Listen to the hotshot." He said it good-naturedly, but there was an edge of frustration in his voice.
"Now, don't take it personally—"
Payne took a long breath. He was more anxious than he had realized. Anxious, and determined to succeed. "Look, can't you go to bat for me with the backers?"
She studied him for a moment, then relented. "All right. If you can't make it sooner than Tuesday, I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks."
"Listen, Joe, I don't mean to bug you. But it's business, and we have to keep business and friendship separate. Do you know what I mean?"
Payne tipped his head from side to side, shrugging. "Yeah."
"So I still like you. Okay?" A corner of her mouth was turned up in a smile. Her eyes sparked.
He blushed. "Yeah."
"So will you let me buy you dinner when you get here?"
"Okay."
"And get to work on that other source!"
"I will." Payne broke the phone connection and settled back in his chair. He was aware of a feeling of sexual arousal, which was interesting, and disturbing. Teri? Good heavens, he didn't feel that way about her, anymore. Or at least, he thought he didn't. Today, though, he'd caught himself noticing her chest, as they talked.
Careful, boy. Watch those thoughts.
He took a deep breath and started to punch in Donny Alvarest's number, then hesitated. How was he going to go about this? He couldn't fish for information directly, not with the security restrictions Donny had to work around. But a good reporter knew how to finesse this sort of thing.
He flipped through the notes from his last conversation with Ellen Chang at JPL. They'd talked twice, since his broadcast, once in person and once by phone. It was powerful stuff. She seemed almost eager now to give him information. She'd told him—strictly on deep background, so he couldn't quote it directly—that her sources were directly involved in research at Tachylab. That was good, that was very good. He hadn't pressed her, and didn't blame her for not naming them, since they were obviously in a delicate position. Nevertheless, Chang had assured him straightforwardly that Father Sky was involved in contacting the source of the alien transmissions.
Alleged transmissions, Payne cautioned himself. Now, more than ever, he had to be careful what he said and didn't say, even to himself.
He punched the first four digits of Donny's number again. "Joe?" He looked up. Denine was leaning in the doorway. She was in jeans and workshirt, her hair up in a bandana.
He switched off the phone. "Hi."
"What are you up to?" she asked, walking in, touching a hand to his shoulder. Her voice sounded strained; something was bothering her.
He flipped at the cover of his notepad. "Just following up the story. You?"
"Oh—" She shrugged. "Thinking about the new Olsen commission. Joe?"
"Yeah?"
She leaned against his desk to face him. "I was thinking of writing to Mrs. Moi again. Telling her that you were out there—that a friend was out there and did some checking around, and that Mozy seems to have disappeared. Then she'd at least know something." She scratched under her bandana.
He mulled for a moment. "Do you think it would help, or just make her more worried? Why don't you wait? Maybe next time I'll turn up some real information."
"You're definitely going again?"
"If the backers don't dump me. This whole story is tied up in that place—I think."
"Mmm." Denine nodded. "Well. That would be good, I guess. I wish there were some excuse for me to go with you."
"Why don't you?" Payne said reflexively, and at once knew that he didn't really want her along.
She shrugged. "I'd just be in your way. Besides, I have too much work to do."
He caught her hand. "You okay, sprite?"
"Uh-huh. I'll let you get back to work," she said, forcing a smile. She wrapped her fingers around his and gave a squeeze, then slipped away.
Payne looked after her as she went out the door and thought, something's happening here, and I don't think I like it. The easy closeness to Denine seemed to be getting more difficult, and less close. Was it because he'd been away? Or, God forbid, had she sensed his attraction to another woman, even before he had? Dee wasn't one to share her man, even in casual thought.
Maybe Teri was right. Maybe a loss of home life was the price of being a successful newscoper. If so, things were going to get worse before they got better.
* * *
He became jovial once Alvarest was on the phone. He had only spoken to his friend once since their encounter at the rock revival festival. "You're a hard one to reach, Donny. Don't you answer your phone anymore?"
Alvarest grinned. "Thanks to you, I've been working a lot of overtime. You created quite a stir in the department with that story of yours."
"Your department? I thought you were only involved in intelligence from other countries." Payne swallowed. "What kind of a stir?"
"Oh, just suspicion that somebody's leaking information to you. Thanks for letting me know in advance, yo
u turd. I didn't even see your story until they got a copy from your network."
"Sorry. I meant to call you. Never got the chance."
"Well, they'd just better not find out I'm talking to you now."
"Better not, is right," Payne said. "Not at the rates I'm paying for secure phone calls. I don't suppose you could answer a few questions for me."
Alvarest laughed grimly. "Whatever rates you're paying, it's not that secure."
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