by Algis Budrys
He said Limberg could talk as much as he wished about his medical abilities but if he attempted anything more, it would be total war between Limberg and UNAC until one or the other ex-hausted its resources. And was that clear?"
Michaelmas pursed his lips. "And Limberg and Norwood agreed?"
"Why not? Norwood is under discipline as a UNAC as-signee, and what has Limberg to lose? If a few hours go by and then the news gets out, Limberg looks better and UNAC looks worse than ever. For the sake of his glory! This tantalizer of birds, this connoisseur of things to be found in a garden, this — Laurent, please, you must do for us whatever you can."
"Yes, I must," Michaelmas said. "But what can that be?"
He began moving about the room, his hands reaching out to touch the handles of a breakfront, the pulls of the drapes, the switches on the little lights above the painting. "If it's not true, there's no problem. I can reinforce whatever facts you announce, we can play it correctly - well, hell, Getulio, we know how that's done - but what to do if the facts confirm Norwood's story?" He turned and stared at the public relations man. "Eh? What then?"
Frontiere looked at him uncomfortably. "Well, Ossip is of course due in conference momentarily with the entire UNAC directorship, and all eventualities will be con-sidered."
"What does that mean?"
Frontiere's gaze steadied and he folded his arms. "You have always been a very good friend to us, Laurent. You have shared our ideal from the beginning. We understand the call for objectivity in your position. However, the fact is that you have always been slow to elaborate anything detrimental about us. To the contrary, you have been energetic in confirming what is good for us."
Michaelmas put up a hand swiftly. "Because taken day in and out, UNAC is one of the excellent and well-run ideas of the late twentieth century." He studied Frontiere's ex-pression, peering forward as if there were not quite enough light to show him all he wanted to examine. "What else are you hoping for? That in this case Laurent Michael-mas will lend himself to whatever UNAC
directorship wants, no matter what? Even if Norwood's story is proven true?"
Frontiere's lips were pale at the corners. "It may be proven untrue."
Michaelmas turned away. He stood with one hand on the wall, and looked out at the mountains.
"Getulio, do you imagine the telemetry sender does not appear honestly Soviet under Norwood's analysis? Do you conceive that he and Limberg have lent their names and actions to some-thing like this, if they are not prepared to swear it was in Norwood's pocket when he was hauled from the cap-sule? Have they told you where the capsule is located?"
"Of course."
"And have UNAC technicians looked at it?"
"Certainly."
"And is the physical evidence consistent with everything Limberg and Norwood have told you ?"
"Yes. But that's not yet proof —"
"Proof." Michaelmas turned sharply. "Proof will be con-clusive when it comes. But you know what many people will believe even without proof. You know what even many of the more levelheaded will believe must be done when there is proof. Getulio Frontiere, you're a good man in a good cause, yet you're here on a shameful errand. And why? Not because there's final proof.
But because there's already belief, and I can see it on your face as plain as you have it on your conscience. Thank you for trusting me.
Getulio, I'll do what I can. That may be disappointingly little."
Frontiere stood up without looking at Michaelmas. He busied himself with putting the noise generator back in his pocket and turning towards the door. "E bene, we each do what we can," he said down to the carpet. "Sometimes we do what we must."
"E vero," Michaelmas said, "but we must not go beyond the truth in doing what we can."
Eight
When they were alone again in the suite, Michaelmas went into the bathroom. He rummaged among his kit and found something for his stomach. He took it, went back to the drawing-room, and sat down on the end of the Morris chair. He looked at the terminal. "Why couldn't you tell me about Limberg's computer having made a simulated run on the shuttle flight?"
"I never reached that part of his data storage. I didn't even know it existed."
"And you still don't, except by reasoning it out. Yes." Michaelmas's voice was dull. "That's what I thought." He sat with his head at an angle, as if it were heavy for his neck. He thought, and his expression grew bereft. "It ap-pears he has a screen for his better secrets. One might describe it is a means of actually taking hold of and re-directing individual incoming electrons. If oceans were waves and not water, but you know what I mean. I'd postu-late that if the incoming probe were intelligent in itself, then, it might have the sort of subjective experience you've described."
"There's never been any such technique. No one monitor-ing Limberg has ever encountered it before. That in-cludes me."
Michaelmas sighed. He held up his hand and ticked off fingers. "First," he said wearily, "no probes would ordinarily ever register it; they'd only be diverted to reach whatever Limberg wanted
'em to find. The rest would seem non-existent. Which, second, incidentally documents the nature of dear Dr. Limberg's famous passion for privacy. He's not a blushing virgin — he's a fan dancer.
Third, more important, on this occasion there was something special; greater prox-imity, perhaps
—"
"You're joking," Domino said. "I'm no more a piece of hardware than you are a pound of flesh.
Since when does the location of one of my terminals have anything to do with where I am?"
"I don't know," Michaelmas said. "I didn't build Lim-berg's system. But why are we surprised? Is it really unex-pected to find something like this in the hands of Nils Hannes Limberg, famed research scientist savant pioneer?" Michaelmas shrugged. "Of course, if the method ever gets out and goes into general use, you and I are finished."
"He'd never let go of it while he's alive," Domino said quickly. "Meanwhile, we can be developing some counter-technique."
"If he lives long enough."
"If any of these suppositions are true."
"If truth is ever anything more than the most workable supposition."
They sat in silence for a moment. Domino tentatively said: "Do you buy it? Do you think the Norwood story is true?"
"Well, what do you think? Does it square with the avail-able data?"
"Unless the telemetry sender turns out to be a fake."
Michaelmas shook his head. "It won't." He drummed his fingertips on the tabletop. "Can you clock back on Kosm-gorod? Is it true they could have used Norwood's voice channel if the sender was cutting off the voice transmission from his module?"
"Absolutely. I checked that while Frontiere was talking about it. There's no record in Kosmgorod's storage of any such superimposing transmissions, but you wouldn't expect it to be there, with a guilty crew to wipe out the evidence. I also checked Star Control's files of the ostensible receptions. They're on exactly the right frequency, in what you'd swear is Norwood's voice making routine astrotalk, and the signal strength is exactly what you'd expect from that type of equipment in flight. Of course, that's the sort of good job Kosmgorod would do, if they did it."
"And they really did all that just to get a Soviet name in the history books instead of an American one."
"Well," Domino said, "you know, people will do these things."
Michaelmas closed his eyes. "And we will do what we can. All right. We've got to take hold of this situation, even if we don't know what it is. Let's tie down as many factors as we can. Let's tell UNAC I want to do a documentary on Papashvilly. Right away. Find a buyer, find Frontiere, set up interviews with Papashvilly, the UNAC bureaucracy, and all that. Norwood too. Norwood too —
that's important. I haven't the foggiest notion of what this piece is about, and I don't care, but I want them holding Norwood for me. Get us in there. Fastest route to the Star Control complex.
Also stay on top of the Hanrassy s
ituation. Do what you can to keep tab on Limberg. For God's sake, keep me in-formed on what's happening inside the USSR." He slumped back into the chair.
"Gervaise," Domino said.
Michaelmas's eyes opened. "What?"
"If I can arrange it, do you want Madame Gervaise's net-work and her crew?"
"No," Michaelmas said quickly. "There's absolutely no need for any such thing. We can use local talent and sell the job as a package. To anyone who meets my standards." He shut his eyes precisely and squirmed in the chair to settle himself. "Another thing," he said as he turned and curled on his side. His back was presented to the machine on the table, and his voice was muffled. "Find out when, why, and for how long Gervaise was a patient at Limberg's sanatorium."
"Ah," Domino said. "All right."
It became quiet in the suite. The sunlight filtered through the drapes and touched the case of the terminal lying on the polished mahogany. Michaelmas's breathing be-came steady. A growing half-moon of perspiration spread through the fabric of his shirt under the sleeve inset. The air-conditioning murmured. Michaelmas began to make slight, tremblant moves of his arms and legs. His hands twitched as if he were running and clutching. "Hush, hush," Domino murmured, and the motions first smoothed and then were ameliorated almost completely.
In the quiet, the machine said softly:
"My bones are made of steel
The pain I feel is rust.
The dust to which your pangs bequeath
The rots that flourish underneath
The loving flesh is not for me.
Time's tick is but the breathing of the clock.
No brazen shock of expiration tolls for me.
Error unsound is my demise.
The worm we share is lies"
Nine
"Wake up, Mr Michaelmas," Domino soon said. "They're holding a plane for you."
Michaelmas sat up, his eyes wide. "What's the situation?"
"Getulio Frontiere is flying Norwood back to Star Control via Cite d'Afrique in a UNAC plane.
You've spoken to him, and he's happy to take you along. They'll leave as soon as you can get there. I have checked you out of the hotel; a bellboy will be here in five minutes, and a car will meet you at the door. The time now is twelve forty-eight."
"All right. All right." Michaelmas nodded his head vig-orously and pushed himself to his feet. He pulled at his shirt and settled his trousers. He rubbed his face and moved across the room to where his shoes were lying. "Everything's set up?"
"Frontiere told you he was delighted. It's a great pleasure to be able to add your programme to the one being pre-pared by Douglas Campion."
Michaelmas sat down and began unlacing his shoes. "Campion?" he said, his head lifting.
"It seems that early this afternoon Campion approached Frontiere for a Norwood special interview. Frontiere equi-vocated, but agreed after visiting here. Presumably it'll be done on the basis Frontiere tried to suggest to you,"
"Ah, the young man is rising rapidly."
"By default of his elders."
"The traditional route. It's good for us; hot breath on your heels is what keeps you on your toes." Michaelmas put on the shoes and bent to methodically tease the laces just tight enough, eyelet by eyelet.
"Maybe. But there's now a longish chain of coincidences. It's become significant to me that Limberg's medical cor-poration has recently made itself a major stockholder in the Euro Voire-Mondial communications company. It's part of a perfectly typical portfolio; a little shrewder than most, but unexceptionable. The holdings in EVM represent steady investment over several months, and Medlimb Pty doesn't visibly concern itself at all with EVM's day-to-day affairs, any more than Limberg drinks extra coffee just be-cause he owns a Colombian finca. But Gervaise is on staff employment with EVM. They're your recent contractor. And now EVM has signed for this interview of Cam-pion's."
Michaelmas tied each lace and tested the knots. "Well, he's completed his job with his American affiliation."
"There's nothing wrong with anything he's done. But you should know Clementine Gervaise has been assigned as his director. She and an EVM crewman are also on board the plane. The Norwood interview will be conducted en route. Additional shots, and interviews if needed, will be obtained at Star Control this afternoon, and the programme will air at nine p.m. tonight, US
Eastern Time."
"Ah." Michaelmas stood up. "Well, I can see how Getulio would like that." The programme would bracket the United States exactly, from evening snack-time in the East to the second or third drink or stick of the day in the West. An audience with something on its tongue is less resistant to insinuation. "How big is this plane?"
"Well, you won't quite be sitting in each other's laps, if that's what you mean."
"Let me just make sure I've got everything out of the bathroom and into the bag before the bellman arrives."
"There's another thing about Gervaise."
"What?"
"She was in a car crash here the year before last. Her husband was killed and she was critically injured. She was out of public view for eleven months. She resumed her career only half a year ago. During the interval, she was at the Limberg Sanatorium. Extensive orthopaedic and cos-metic surgery is said to have been performed. If so, then like most restorative surgery in such cases, the optimum approach is to produce a close return to function and an acceptable appearance. It's not always possible to make the patient appear the same as before the trauma.
There are also consequences to the personality — sometimes socially desirable, sometimes not.
In Gervaise's case there was a need for extensive simultaneous psychotherapy, she says freely.
Broadcasting trade journals have remarked that she has many of the mannerisms of the familiar Clementine Ger-vaise, and her old friends declare that she is essentially the same person behind her somewhat changed face. But her energy and decisiveness have greatly increased. Her career has shown a definite uptrend since her return. She is given much of the credit for EVM's recent acceleration towards major status. There's talk she'll soon be offered a top management position. And several people in broad-casting have made arrangements to be rushed to Berne should they ever have a serious accident."
Michaelmas stood shaking his head. "Do you suppose I should do the same?"
"O King! Live forever!" Domino said drily. "Here comes the bellman."
When the elevator reached the lobby, Michaelmas closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them and smiled his way out into the world.
He sat in the car with his head down. Domino said to him : "Peking has just done something encouraging."
"What might that be?"
"It was proposed to the Central Committee by Member Chiang that they form an ad hoc consortium of Asian and African nations, along the lines of the old Third World concept. The object would be to vote the UN into directing UNAC to restructure the flight crew. Thousandman Shih would be shifted from command to the close-approach module to membership in an overall command committee consisting of himself plus Norwood and Papashvilly. This would be presented to UNAC as the most diplomatic way out of its dilemma."
"Oh my God."
"The proposal was voted down. Chairman .Sing pointed out what happened the last time the Third World gambit was attempted. He also questioned Member Chiang on what he thought Thousandman Shih should do in the event Colonel Norwood proved not up to his duties in flight.
Should Shih join with Major Papashvilly in removing the American from the command committee?
How should the news back to earth be worded? Should Shih sign the message above or under Papashvilly? Did not Member Chiang, on reconsideration, feel things were best left for the present to mend themselves as they might?"
Michaelmas grinned. Sing was young for his post, but he was a hard case. When Mao died and left that famous administrative mess, it had created a good school for shrewdness, even if it had been slow in producing results. A day would come when Sing was olde
r; that ought to be allowed for. But later. Later. For the time being, China represented a bright spot on his map. If Sing felt obliged by tradition to rub a little against his borders with India and the USSR, and counterpoise Taiwan's and Hong Kong's industry to Japan's, well, it was equally true that all continents maintained a certain level of volcanic activity as they slid their leading edges along the earth's mantle. Nevertheless, cities were built and flourished upon those coasts.
He was feeling halfway pleased by all that when Domino said: "Mr Michaelmas, something bad has happened."
He raised his head abruptly and looked out beyond the windows of the ear. They were proceeding uneventfully toward the airport.
"What?"
"Here is a short feature that's just been released by the syndication department of EVM."
Michaelmas rubbed his face and the back of his neck; the heel of his hand massaged surreptitiously behind his right ear. "Proceed," he said unwillingly, and Domino went to the audio track of a canned topical vignette for sale to stations that lacked feature departments of their own.
"Ask the World," said a smooth, featureless, voice-over voice. "Today's viewer question comes from Madame Hertha Wieth of Ulm. She asks: "What are the major character differences between astronauts and cosmonauts?" For her provocative and interesting question, Frau Wieth, a mother of four lovely children and the devoted wife of Stationary Engineer Augustus Friedrich Wieth, will receive a complimentary shopping discount card, good for one full calendar year, from the Stroessel Department Stores, serving Ulm and nearby communities honorably for the past twenty years. Stroessel's invites the world's custom. And now, for the reply to our viewer's question, Ask the World turns to Professor Henri Jacquard of the Ecole Psychologique, Marseilles. Professor Jacquard:"
"Merci. Madame Wieth's question implies a penetrating observation. There are significant psychological differences between the space fliers of the United States of North America and those of the Union of Soviet Socialist Re-publics. For example, let us compare Colonel Walter Norwood to Major Pavel Papashvilly."