by Hogan, James
business the team was in. Now that he saw that clearly, he was far from certain
that he would be able to make the relationship work again.
Thelma looked from side to side uncertainly, and then across at Zambendorf, who
was watching curiously. She spread her hands and shook her head. "Well, I'm
gonna say what I think everyone's feeling. Look, you know how it is with me—I'm
a Ph.D. in physics and mathematics, but I've always protested a society that
thinks more of performing adolescent Neanderthals than the people who design the
amplifiers that they scream into. But with the Taloids I really feel we did
something important for people who were worth it, and who genuinely appreciated
it. And that was just a start. There's so much more to be done down there, and I
think we could contribute a lot to that too. But I guess none of us is exactly
crazy about the idea of . . ." Thelma broke off and gave Zambendorf a puzzled
look as she realized that his eyes were twinkling roguishly. Her expression
changed to one of suspicion. "Karl, you're up to something. What are you
laughing at? You know something that you're not letting on about, don't you."
Clarissa looked up at him. "What is it, Zambendorf?" she demanded. Zambendorf
smirked back at her and remained silent. "Come on, you're not handing out
tablets on some mountaintop now. Give."
"Well, thanks to my power to divine the future by supernatural—" Zambendorf
began, but Abaquaan cut him off.
"Never mind all that crap. What do you know that you haven't told us?"
"I don't exactly 'know' anything for sure yet, Otto, which is why I didn't want
to risk raising anyone's hopes too soon," Zambendorf replied. "But I had a
pretty good idea of your attitudes—I feel the same way myself. So I took the
liberty of presuming—" The call tone sounded from the console behind West. "Ah,
this might even be the news I've been waiting for," Zambendorf said as West
swiveled his chair round to accept.
"Is Karl Zambendorf there?" a NASO flight officer inquired from the screen a
couple of seconds later. "This is Captain Matthews, calling on behalf of General
Vantz."
"Here, Captain," Zambendorf said, putting down his drink and rising to face the
screen.
"General Vantz would like to know if you and your people could be available in
Globe I for an interview with him and Commander Craig immediately after the
current shift—say at fifteen hundred hours. Would that be convenient for
everyone?"
"Oh, I don't think we have any prior engagements," Zambendorf replied airily.
"Yes, thank you, Captain Matthews—that would be most convenient."
"I'll put you down for then," Matthews confirmed. "Fifteen hundred hours, in the
executive office suite, Globe I."
"Did Vantz say anything else?" Zambendorf asked curiously.
"Only that he didn't think there would be much of a problem," Matthews answered.
"Commander Craig will need all the help he can get. I think you can take it
there'll be a slot for anyone who wants one."
"Thank you, Captain. That tells me all I wanted to know. Thank you very much
indeed!"
"Fine," Matthews said. "We'll see you later." The screen blanked out.
Thelma blinked her eyes several times, shook her head, and whispered
disbelievingly, "Did I really hear that? We're going to stay here with Craig's
group at Genoa Base and wait for the Japanese? Is that what he said?"
"Well, if you want to, anyway," Zambendorf said. "I mean, I didn't want to
assume anything. I just thought—"
"You didn't want to assume!" Clarissa exclaimed accusingly. "Hey, what is it
with this guy? How long have you known us, Karl? So what did you do—go talk to
Vantz?"
"Yesterday," Zambendorf said. "He wanted to discuss it with Craig before
committing himself. That was why—"
"Hey, guys—it's okay!" Fellburg shouted, swinging his head from side to side,
looking up, and beaming. "It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay." He burst into
loud laughter and clapped Clarissa heartily on the back, causing her to slop her
drink.
"Hey, Kong—lay off of that, willya!"
Drew West started laughing too, and so did Thelma. Massey caught Vernon's eye,
and his face split slowly into a broad grin. Suddenly the whole room was full of
noisy, excited, laughing voices. Zambendorf stood up amid a barrage of
backslapping and raised a hand to acknowledge the congratulations coming from
every side. "Tonight we must throw a party for all our friends, especially the
ones who will be staying on," he said raising his voice above the commotion.
"But before that, we can have a private celebration. It's time to move this show
along—to the Globe IV Recreation Deck and the bar, I say! The first round is
mine."
Everyone began moving toward the door, and at that moment Osmond Periera burst
in with Malcom Wade close behind. They seemed excited about something. "I've
been studying the transcripts of some of the conversations with the Taloids down
in Padua," Periera said, waving some papers. "All that business about the
revolution and the new religion didn't just happen, you know, Karl. There were
some good reasons—amazing things going on in the sky at the time, all well
authenticated. I don't think we're the only beings who are watching developments
down on Titan. There are aliens here too—alien UFOs around Titan!"
Zambendorf brought a hand up to his face and frowned down at the floor over his
knuckle. If he was going into a new line of business, there was no better time
to start, he supposed. He drew in a long breath and looked up at Periera,
hesitating for a moment as he searched for the right words. And then he saw
Massey smiling ruefully and shaking his head behind Periera's shoulder. Massey
was right—there was no point. With even a million years to try and explain,
there would have been no point.
Zambendorf sighed and draped an arm affectionately around Periera's shoulder as
he turned him around and began walking him back toward the door. "Really,
Osmond, my friend?" he said. "It sounds fascinating. We're just on our way to
the bar. Why don't you and Malcom join us. You can tell us all about the UFOs
there. It will be far more comfortable, and I'm sure you'd agree that we all owe
ourselves some time to rest and relax a little, eh?"
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JAMES HOGAN WAS born in London in 1941 and educated at the Cardin I Vaughan
Grammar School, Kensington. He studied general engineering at the Royal Aircraft
Establishment, Famborough, subsequently specializing in electronics and digital
systems.
After spending a few years as a systems design engineer, he transferred into
selling and later joined the computer industry as a salesman, working with ITT,
Honeywell, and Digital Equipment Corporation. He also worked as a life insurance
salesman for two years ". . . to have a break from the world of machines and to
learn something more about people."
In mid-1977 he moved from England to the United States to become a Senior Sales
Training Consultant, concentrating on the applications of mini-computers in
science and rese
arch for DEC.
At the end of 1979, Hogan opted to write full-time. He is now living in northern
California.