Chapter Fifty-One

 

The zero elevator to the bore-hole staging areas was seldom used now. Only two people continued their work in the staging areas—Roberta Pickney and Silvia Link. Hoffman considered their work important, however, and made it a point to visit them personally at least once a week.

The broad spaces and comparatively low ceilings of the staging areas reminded her of a parking garage or convention center. With her two marine guards, she took a tracked cart to the communications and control center beneath the prime dock and walked alone into the quiet room.

Silvia Link was asleep in a sling. Roberta Pickney greeted Hoffman quietly and showed her the intercepted transmissions from Earth and the Moon.

"Lunar settlement seems to be doing well," she said. There were heavy bags under her eyes; she looked ten years older than when Hoffman had first met her. "There are still people on Earth, but they're only using low-power transmitters—working off batteries and windmill generators, I'd guess. I think one or two small cities are still transmitting these low-power signals—areas that may have been protected by orbiting platforms. I send out our own signals every now and then, but nobody's called back yet. It's only a matter of time."

"There're people, at least," Hoffman said.

"Yeah. At least. But nobody much cares about us, and why should they?"

"You should get into the fourth chamber for some R and R," Hoffman suggested. "You don't look too well."

"I feel pretty lousy, too. But this is all I have left. I'll make it as long as there're voices down there. You're not going shut us down, are you?"

"No, of course not," Hoffman said. "Don't be silly."

"My privilege to be paranoid," Pickney said, thrusting her lower jaw forward and pulling it back, with an audible grind of molars. "When Heineman gets back, I'll go to work with him refurbishing the shuttle. I'd like to get to the Moon. I have friends there."

"No word on the expedition," Hoffman said. "They're late, but that's not much reason to worry. . . yet. I may get some of Heineman's fellows working on the shuttle soon. Give us all something new to think about."

"What about the missing Russians?" Link asked from her sling, blinking at them sleepily.

"Still unavailable for comment," Hoffman said. She took Pickney's hand and squeezed it. "You're needed," she said. "Both of you. Don't overdo it."

Pickney nodded without much conviction. "All right. Have Janice Polk and Beryl Wallace spell us in a day or so. We'll go get some tubelight and see the sights."

"Fine," Hoffman said. "Now show me where the signals are coming from. . . .”