"You're offering me a job?"
"I can't think of a more suitable candidate," Prince said.
"Now just a minute—you're Fleet Director of Excelsior, aren't you?"
"At the moment—but I expect to be moving up soon." "Up?"
"Poppa Niebohr named me as his successor at the last board meeting. From now on I shall be working more closely with him."
"Like learning how to use money and power to crush anybody who stands in your way?"
"Now Tom, I'll admit that Poppa has cut a few corners in the past, but things are different now."
"Those Niebohrs really got through to you, didn't they? How can you be so simple-minded?"
"Because that's the way I love him," interrupted a deep, slightly husky female voice.
Both men turned to look at the stunning raven-haired beauty, whose deep-tanned body was framed rather than covered by a brilliant turquoise evening dress. Only in the bold hawklike nose was there any apparent resemblance to her father, and in her case the feature was an asset, lending a striking individuality to her entire face. Looking at Elsa Niebohr in the flesh for the first time was like seeing an original Leonardo sculpture after previously having experienced nothing but cheap reproductions. The contrasts between her and Helen Lindstrom were so great, in so many ways, that seen side by side it would have been difficult to believe they were females of the same species. And yet, as he stared down at the tiny woman, who was a whole head and shoulders shorter than himself, he found himself moved in such an undeniably sexual manner that a lance of pain seemed to pierce the pit of his stomach.
"Commander Bruce, I've been looking forward to meeting you for such a long time." The voice was a musical, throaty purr with a hint of laughter near the surface, and the dark eyes, held his in a steady challenge as she held out one hand towards him.
"Mrs. Prince..." Bruce held the tiny, perfect fingers in his own large hand for a moment, aware that he was being bewitched and ashamed of his own susceptibility. It seemed to him that he had never met a woman in his whole life who so epitomized the mystery and challenge of her sex. Beside Elsa Niebohr the beauty of Helen Lindstrom was as that of a glacier to an erupting volcano.
"Elsa, please," she said, drawing her hand away at last. "Robert has spoken of you so often that I feel we are already old friends. Now that we have met, we must see more of each other. How long will you be on Earth?"
"About three weeks. My ship is undergoing a refit." "
"That's wonderful! You must join us next weekend at our place in Hierro; the swimming there is terrific at this time of the year."
"Yes, why don't you do that, Tom?" said Prince. "We could relax for a few days and have a real bull session."
"Well, I'm not sure..."
"Don't make up your mind now," Prince said. "I'll give you a call tomorrow. Perhaps you'd like to bring Helen Lindstrom along as well. We could talk some more on the subject I mentioned earlier."
"All right, I'll check on my duty commitments first thing in the morning," Bruce said, still acutely aware of the challenge in Elsa's dark eyes.
"Where's your father?" asked Prince, glancing round the crowded room.
"He stayed upstairs with the President," Elsa said. "I expect they'll be down in a while to do some token mingling. In the meantime, there's a wonderful band playing- out there on the terrace. Why don't we dance?"
Prince shrugged, smiling at Bruce, "Duty calls, Tom. See you later."
Bruce watched as the tall blond man took hold of Elsa's arm and the two of them walked toward the open doorway. As he contemplated the way the woman's rounded yet slim buttocks moved, he became aware with even greater intensity of a lusting animal inside him that was joyfully contemplating the possibility of cuckolding his good friend. With a snort of self-disgust he turned away abruptly and headed toward the nearest bar.
Chapter Six
Once again we are being asked to sign an open check to subsidize this line of research— to authorize the spending of billions of credits on a project which has in three years yielded no positive results whatever. I realize that it is considered bad form in some quarters to criticize any activity that involves the Space Corps, but in our present economic situation can we afford to go on pouring money into this search for a Space Warp Drive? SENATOR CHARLES DETWEILER (addressing the Space Corps Appropriations Committee.)
Henry Fong, President of United Earth, stood on a balcony looking down onto the illuminated ornamental gardens of his residence. The sound of sweetly sentimental music floated through the warm air, carrying with it snatches of conversation and laughter. A small neat man, wearing a simple high-necked semi-uniform, he turned to his companion and smiled. "A great occasion, Elkan. You must feel very proud."
Elkan Niebohr's deep-set eyes looked down into the
smooth, slimmed-down Buddha face of one of the few living men for whose ability he had any real respect.
"I do indeed, Mr. President," he said in his careful, accented English. "But you didn't keep me up here just to listen to a repeat of my acceptance speech, did you? Why don't we just get down to cases?"
A flicker of pain passed over Fong's face in response to the insensitive occidental bluntness of his guest. There were times when he wondered just how such a man could ever have reached his present position as head of Earth's most influential and successful Colonization Corporation. Wondered—until he reminded himself that the great hulk of a body housed a ruthless ambition and a questing, ferocious intelligence, which even now, in the shadow of approaching old age, retained its dangerous potential. Elkan Niebohr was a man to be handled with care.
"It is a small matter," he said quietly. "But one that I thought would be best discussed privately between us. I believe that you have recently negotiated an understanding with Koninburger. May I inquire as to the nature of the arrangement?"
Niebohr's hawk-face was immediately alert, the hooded, eyes watchful. "Mr. President, I don't think—"
"Very well, Elkan, if you so insist, I must tell you," said Fong, his tone still mild. "You have offered Koninburger the backing of your corporation's considerable resources in order to establish his own research and development program into a Warp Drive. The details of the conditions are unimportant, but I would guess that they entail the retention of a considerable percentage of interest in the proceeds of any such drive, should it be developed."
"I think it was one of your predecessors who stated that there is no crime in making a profit," said Niebohr.
"Provided that such a profit is not made at the expense of the human race."
The sandstone color of Niebohr's features darkened slightly. "Mr. President, you have no right to make such implications. In fact, coming as they do after your public speech of less than an hour ago, I must confess—"
"You misunderstand me," Fong cut in with quiet firmness. "I can do. nothing but applaud your enterprise in offering your support to this project, with all the obligations it may entail. A lesser man would never have been so far-sighted. I'm certain that your board as a whole would have hesitated to accept such a commitment had you not presented them with the fait accompli."
"Let's not kid each other, Mr. President," Niebohr said. "You know as well as I do what went on at that meeting. Gould and some of those other young rebels would have had my balls off if I hadn't played the deal close to my chest."
"And now Mr. Gould is no longer with us," Fong said pensively. "A sad loss."
Niebohr nodded. "An unfortunate accident. My lawyers are working in the interests of the bereaved widow and children now."
"So I understand," Fong said. "And Mr. Falangetti?"
"A cerebral hemorrhage," Niebohr said. "The paralysis is receding slightly, and the specialists say he may be able to talk again eventually. He's having the best treatment Excelsior can provide—my own personal physician is supervising."
"But it is unlikely he will be taking any active interest in the proceedings of your board for some time to come."
/> "Unfortunately, no."
"The almost simultaneous loss of two so talented young executives must have been a severe blow to you."
"A tragedy," said Niebohr, warily.
The two of them stood silent in the velvet darkness for several moments. The band on the terrace finished playing the sentimental ballad and launched abruptly into a screeching, fast-tempoed Chav. Henry Fong winced as a squealing electro-flute pierced at his ears.
"Shall we go inside?" he said, moving towards the glass doors of the balcony.
Reestablished in the privacy and comparative peace . of the lounge, with the balcony doors closed behind them, Fong moved towards the bar.
"A drink, Elkan?"
Niebohr settled for a scotch with ice and soda, and Fong, who never drank alcohol, had a glass of plain soda. The two men sat down opposite each other in deep gold velour-covered armchairs.
"To return to your theme of profit," Fong said at length. "You realize that it may be some considerable time—if ever—before Koninburger is able to produce a workable drive with commercial applications?"
"Yes," Niebohr said. "But Koninburger is already consulting with the head of my engineering department about the construction of a test prototype.".
"Ah yes, the prototype," Fong said. "Koninburger has, of course, told you that it was the discussions about just such a prototype that resulted in his final disagreement with Admiral Carter and his withdrawal from the Blue Mountain Project?"
Niebohr shrugged massively. "He didn't go into
detail. As far as I understand it, he and Carter didn't get along from the very beginning. I find that hardly surprising, considering Carter's record."
"A very distinguished Corps officer, but not one noted for his tact," said Fong. "He is, however, a great deal more foresighted and cautious than would appear from his boorish manner."
"Cautious?"
Fong nodded. "Men of Koninburger s type, on the other hand, tend to follow their own vision without sufficient regard for the possible consequences."
"You can't force him to go back to Blue Mountain," Niebohr said.
"My dear Elkan, I have not the slightest intention of trying," said Fong. "His unwilling cooperation would be completely useless to us."
"Then what are you talking about?" demanded Niebohr.
Fong permitted himself a small inward sigh. The man had absolutely no appreciation of the principle of obliquity. "Both you and I are laymen in this matter, and as such we must accept the judgment of our experts. Mine inform me that the testing of a prototype such as Koninburger has suggested could entail considerable danger. No one knows for certain, of course, but I am told that, in the event of such a mechanism functioning even briefly, there is at least a forty percent probability of its shifting itself and give-or-take a few hundred, say, a thousand cubic kilometers of its surroundings into what we will call for convenience a sub-spatial dimension."
Niebohr stared at the President. "I can't believe that! The way I understand it, this thing would be hardly more than a test-bench scale model."
"We are dealing here with forces of which we have no past experience. Carter assures me that this assessment is a valid one. Determined as he is to produce such a drive, he felt it his duty to inform me fully of the likely effects of such a sub-spatial shift—whether permanent or temporary—on the planet as a whole. At the very least, we could expect seismic activity of catastrophic proportions, with violent earthquakes, volcanic activity, and tsunami—at worst, there is a distinct possibility that Earth could be kicked out of orbit completely, either sunwards or out towards the trans-Plutonian darkness. The risk is far too great."
"Does Koninburger know of this?" asked Niebohr.
"Naturally he was kept fully informed at all stages," said Fong. "But he refuses to accept the figures. He insists that the field generated by the prototype drive could not possibly affect such an area—although he does admit that there is likely to be some local damage."
"Local?"
Fong shrugged. "An inexact term, but the one he used, nevertheless. I must confess, it seems to me that Koninburger is the kind of man who would go ahead and create this thing whatever the risk involved. I, on the other hand, must be more cautious."
"Does that mean that you've decided to abandon the Blue Mountain Project?"
"Our need of a Space Warp drive is acute. As you know, without it we haven't the slightest chance of defending ourselves against any Kilroy attack," said Fong. "On the other hand, it is clear that such dangerous experimentation cannot be carried out here on Earth. Admiral Carter and his team at Blue Mountain are all as fully aware of the risks involved as it
is possible to be at this stage, and they have agreed to be transferred to a new base of operations on the unassigned planet known as Tarasco IV."
"That ball of barren mud!"
"Precisely," said Fong. 'In the event of the gloomier predictions about the testing of the prototype being filled, such a ball of mud would be expendable."
"But why didn't Koninburger tell me any of this?" said Niebohr. He managed to conceal his unease; he had hoped that his grand gesture to Koninburger would appear good.
"Possibly because, as I said earlier, he disagrees with Carter's figures," said Fong. "He would in any case be unlikely to draw your attention to such unfavorable possibilities when soliciting your financial backing for his project. I trust you have not committed yourself too deeply?"
Niebohr's dark eyebrows bunched dangerously above his deep-set eyes. "I've given him what amounts to an unlimited open credit, so long as he can rationalize the expenditure as legitimate research expenses."
Fong sipped his soda, nodding. "I see. Well, I don't see how you can be too much out of pocket on the deal, because the only research he is going to be able to do will have to be on a theoretical level Obviously, in view of the risks involved, we can't allow him to build a prototype drive here on Earth. What he does elsewhere is, of course, another matter."
"Elsewhere?"
"I was thinking in terms of one of the undeveloped planets in your sector," said Fong. "There are three in the Kepler system alone. You could establish an experimental station on one of them, just as we are doing on Tarasco IV."
"Good God, man! Have you any idea of what that would cost?" exploded Niebohr.
"I have indeed," said Fong with a rueful smile. "Right down to the last credit, if you really want to know. Senator Detweiler has been fighting us all the way on the appropriations for the project."
"But you're going ahead?"
"My dear Elkan, if our race is to survive, there is no alternative," said Fong. "We have had our warnings on Minos and Kepler planets—the next time the aliens may strike at the home system. The Warp Drive is essential for our survival. That is why I urge you to go ahead with your own project, whatever the cost"
Niebohr contemplated his almost empty glass, his heavy face grim. "It's all very well for you to talk that way, Mr. President," he said at length. "But the kind of project you're talking about is the business of the government, not a commercial firm like Excelsior. I have to answer to my board and stockholders, and they have little taste for philanthropy, especially at their expense."
"Oh come now, Elkan," chided Fong. "Don't try to tell me that you can't handle that kind of opposition. Your excellent young son-in-law, Commander Prince, has already familiarized them with some of the essential arguments. I'm sure you're capable of making them understand that in the long run the integrity of our solar system is their finest investment. Anything less would place them in the position of a man who refuses to spend a few credits on candles, then breaks his neck on the stairway during a power failure."
I'll have to think it over," Niebohr said guardedly. "As you say, there wouldn't be too much difficulty involved in finding a suitable planet, but at the moment every ship in our fleet is running to a tight schedule. Apart from that, there would be the job of recruiting suitable people to work on the project."
"I do
n't think you'd have a great deal of difficulty there," said Fong. "There must be a large number who would be only too eager for the opportunity of being associated with Koninburger. . ." He paused for a moment, drawing the tip of his right finger around the rim of his empty glass, sensing its rounded smoothness. "As I see it, your main obstacle is going to be Koninburger himself," he added musingly.
"Koninburger?" repeated Niebohr, glaring at his host in perplexity.
"Obviously he hasn't told you the nature of his final disagreement with Carter," Fong said. "Things had been pretty stormy between them all along the line, but they managed until Carter quite rightly came to the decision that prototype testing would have to take place somewhere like Tarasco IV. Apart from refusing to believe Carter's figures, Koninburger stated quite categorically that he would not under any circumstances leave Earth."
"But that's ridiculous!" Niebohr said. "Why would he make such a statement?"
"For what—to him at least—appears to be a very good reason," said Fong. "It seems that this eminent and progressive scientist has only been off Earth once in his life, when at the age of five years he accompanied his parents on a round trip to the Moon. Koninburger's father was an endocrinologist, and he was addressing a convention at the Geriatric Center about some work he had been doing on pituitary regulation with relation to aging. Or at least that was the intention. In the event, he never got to read his paper, because the young Hans Koninburger came down with a distressing and potentially lethal combination of symptoms that made it imperative for him to be shipped back to Earth if he was to survive."
"Now just a minute," Niebohr said. "Are you trying to tell me that with all the medical talent and resources on Moon they were incapable of treating a sick child?"
"There is only one treatment for such an illness," Fong said. "Our present Corps Surgeon General, Admiral Hurwitz, made the diagnosis and ordered that the boy be flown back to Earth immediately in a scout ship. Two minutes after landing all symptoms had completely disappeared, and the young Koninburger was happily guzzling a chocolate malt in the Officers' Mess."
The Neutral Stars Page 5