“Sorry.” He dodged the young man, then walked into the office and exchanged greetings.
“Dr. Bell,” he said to Norman, “I have to speak with your wife and Dr. Whittier in private.”
“No problem.” Norm got up and stretched. “Guess our lunch date’s off, anyhow.”
“Unless you want to be interviewed,” Rory said.
“No; think I’ll go home and play.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the wallscreen. “That gives me an idea.” To Mal: “Stopped raining?”
“For a while.” He brushed a few drops from his shoulder.
“Try to beat it home.” Norm scooped up his bicycle helmet and left.
“This changes things.” Mal dropped heavily into the chair Norm had vacated. “A direct threat.”
“Her Nibs called right after the message came,” Deedee said. “She thinks it’s a fake, and Rory’s behind it.”
“Well?” Mal said.
“Well what?” Rory said. “Is it a fake?”
Mal shrugged. “Tell me it’s not.”
“Mal … okay, you’ve got me. It’s a fake. But since it came from beyond the solar system, I had to send the message before we met with La Presidente. So I’m not only a traitor, I’m a fucking clairvoyant!”
Mal raised a hand. “Okay, sorry. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You’re one step ahead of Fearless Leader,” Rory said. “She not only didn’t think of it, she doesn’t believe it. I don’t think they covered that speed-of-light stuff at her finishing school.”
“So you think she’s going to go ahead with orbiting those weapons?”
“Seems likely. She has a testosterone problem. And she has the backing to push it through.”
“They would probably work, though, wouldn’t they?”
“What, the weapons?”
“Yes. I mean, there are thousands of satellites up there. Surely the aliens couldn’t tell that three of them were weapons.”
Rory paused. “Maybe they couldn’t, especially if the weapons were disguised as other kinds of satellites. Though their positioning would be suggestive, suspicious.” She rubbed her still-damp hair. “Besides, suppose there’s more than one alien vessel? They seem to know a bit about human nature. Maybe they know us well enough to send a decoy first.”
“Which could be behind the Phobos demonstration, too,” Deedee said. “If it is an actual invasion, they may be sending a decoy in to provoke us and test our resources.”
“Well, if it is an invasion, we can save our H-bombs. They can stand back a ways and throw rocks at us, at .99c.”
“Another thing the president seems not to believe,” Mal said. His own background was in psychology and sociology, but he knew enough science to grasp that.
“And she doesn’t want to listen to the one person who keeps telling her the truth,” Deedee said. “Poor Pauling. He’ll be out on the sidewalk before long.”
“Replaced by her astrologer,” Mal said.
“She has an astrologer?” Rory said, wide-eyed.
Mal shrugged. “Might be tabloid nonsense. Maybe she does chicken entrails instead.”
“So what do your chicken entrails say?” Deedee said. “Rory’s talking with Marya Washington at noon. We’ve been telling her to keep it under her hat, at least for the time being.”
“I would, too. The president was unambiguous about that. ‘Top secret,’ she said. Though I’m certain she’s about to reveal it herself. Maybe not until after the launch.”
“She thinks these aliens aren’t watching our broadcasts?”
“She doesn’t think very far beyond the nearest camera lens, and this morning’s gallup numbers. And she knows the people are going to eat this up.”
“The people,” Deedee said. “The only thing wrong with democracy.”
The phone chimed and Rory thumbed it. It was the departmental secretary, looking strained. “Dr. Bell, I’m sorry to interrupt. But I have calls stacked up from all over the world. If we could schedule a press conference …”
“Okay, let’s say fourteen hundred. Do you have Marya Washington’s phone number?”
“Right here.”
“She’ll be landing here in a half hour or so, I guess with a small crew. Call her first, set up a time and place, and then contact everyone else.”
“Okay, will do.” The screen went blank.
“You always play favorites like this?” Mal asked.
“I guess I do. She’s well informed and fair.”
“She probably doesn’t have a quarter the market share of CNN.”
“I should care? The news gets out.” The phone chimed and the screen flashed INTRADEPARTMENTAL. She pushed it.
Pepe: “Okay, I called the Moon and they confirmed. And the choice of Phobos is no mystery. It’s cracked. There’s a crater, Stuckncy, that’s a third the size of the moon itself, and it damn near blew the thing apart. Fractures radiate away from it; you just have to shoot a bomb down into there, and finish Mother Nature’s job for her.”
“So how big a bomb?”
Pepe shrugged. “Pick a number. Leo guessed a hundred thousand megatons. Give or take a factor of a thousand.”
Rory laughed. “Well, that’s precise enough. A hundred million megatons it is. Thank Leo for me—you want to come to this interview?”
“No; God, no. Earthshaking stress isn’t in my job description.”