Worlds in Chaos (35 page)

The First Lady, Celia Hayer, was also showing a presence now. Tall, stately, with shoulder-length dark hair, she had always maintained a role that was strong and supportive but low-key, seeking little prominence herself in the public limelight. She had been constantly in the background throughout the day, unobtrusively filtering communications and organizing the White House staff to deal with the flood of visitors that had continued since Keene first arrived.

The President continued, “Something strange is happening with the Eastern reporting system. Some of the people we ask say one thing, others say another, and now nobody knows where Voler is. . . .” He turned to an aide as an afterthought occurred. “Did you track down his wife, George?”

“Yes, we did. She said she doesn’t know where he is. I don’t believe her.”

Hayer appealed to the room. “You see. . . . What’s going on? We don’t know, and we haven’t got time to make a deal of finding out. So from now on JPL in Pasadena becomes our official source. They seem to have their act together out there, and Charlie Hu has been pushing for the right side in all this from the beginning.” Nods and murmurs of agreement greeted the announcement. “Lan Keene has been doing a great job getting a consistent story together out of the mess. So what I want is for Lan to go there and get this set up with Hu, and for them to go through this whole thing one more time and give us a final opinion before we make a statement to the nation. I’m going to try and hold it for another day.” He looked at the harassed White House press secretary. “Can we fix it for six p.m. tomorrow, say? Have everybody here—the works.”

“That means I’ll need to leave tonight,” Keene put in. “Sleep on the plane, which will give me all morning tomorrow with Hu—plus the three-hour time-shift bonus.”

Hayer nodded and looked around. “And that brings me to the second thing. You’ve been hearing all day what we could be in for. Since we’re going to find ourselves very short of time if it’s all true, I’m setting AMANDA in motion now. What’s the status of the advance team?”

“Standing by on three hours’ notice,” one of the staff secretaries said. “The governor of California has notified the appropriate people there.”

Hayer caught the questioning look on Keene’s face. “That’s a standing plan for providing a second seat of government on the West Coast, headed by the Vice President, in the event of emergency,” he said. Keene nodded. Hayer looked away and went on, “Then let’s get them out there and begin the initial preparations tonight. Dr. Keene can go on the same plane. I’ll expect to hear from you and Dr. Hu by five o’clock Eastern Time tomorrow at the latest, Dr. Keene. Is that acceptable?”

“We’ll have an answer by then,” Keene promised.

“Any other questions?”

“No questions.”

The First Lady, who had moved to the front of the group while Hayer was speaking, came forward. “Then before anyone thinks of any, I’m going to get you out of here. It’s time to give it a break, Sam. You have to save something for later.”

Hayer looked around at the company. “Then, if you’ll excuse me, people, your President is about to hit the hay. By this time tomorrow we should all know for sure. It’s going to be a long day.”

The party would travel in an Air Force jet scheduled to leave Andrews for March AFB, southeast of Los Angeles, at midnight. The AMANDA group would proceed to an undisclosed location where a West Coast headquarters had been prepared years previously as a precaution in the event of a major war—Keene guessed it was under the mountains somewhere east of the city. Donald Beckerson, the Vice President, was expected to follow with his staff in the next day or two, after the local preparations were completed. Barbara and Gordon would accompany Keene to JPL, along with one of Sloane’s scientific aides, Colby Greene, who had been working with them.

Relationships were again on an even keel with the Kronians who, it was no longer questioned, would leave Earth’s governments to inform their respective peoples in their own way—in fact, it had never occurred to the Kronians to do otherwise. Accordingly, their plans for departure were moving again, the launch schedule for the emigrants due to leave from Guatemala had been reactivated, and in the meantime the communications block was lifted. They had not taken lightly the allegations made at the conference, all the same. In normal circumstances, a period of strained diplomatic exchanges would no doubt have resulted, probably commencing with a demand for a public retraction. But this was hardly a time to be making an issue of such things.

A staff car had been put at Keene’s disposal, and he decided there would be time to stop by the Engleton that night on his way to Andrews Air Force Base. It would be his last chance to see the Kronians on this visit to Earth—and while nobody cared to say so openly, quite possibly his last chance ever.

The setting could have been better for what would have been one of those touching farewell scenes, had it been in a movie. While the Kronians collected together not only the belongings and material they had brought with them, but in addition all their gifts, mementos, and other acquisitions, Terran officials and administrative personnel came and went and buzzed around, including Cavan, who still had duties involved with the departure preparations. Wally Lomack had gone for the night but would be staying on in Washington to see the Kronians off. At least this time Keene’s absence would have been forced.

Keene found Sariena wearing a dark jumpsuitlike garment and drew her aside for a few minutes in the suite where the reception had been given the night they first met, which now seemed so long ago—like part of another world, which in a way it was. Even now, there was no peace or solitude. Hotel staff were using the room to pack and crate an assortment of objects, and a waiter was collecting dishes from a meal brought in earlier and loading them onto a cart. Keene had said all there really was to say when he and Vicki called Sariena from Texas, and Sariena had made the appropriate responses. There was no point in repeating all that now. And besides, it would have detracted, somehow, from the understanding they had shared then—as if it needed to be reaffirmed or reinforced.

She sighed and made a gesture that could have meant many things. “How totally and unexpectedly things can change. Just when we had glimpsed what will surely be one of the most astounding discoveries in human history: the birthplace of the Earth itself; the cradle of the human race. How much more will it lead to what’s still waiting to be uncovered? The work ahead will last for generations—like those cathedrals that you talked about once.”

For the past few days, Keene had forgotten all about such things. For a moment, inside, he was surprised and troubled. Sariena was neither thoughtless nor insensitive; yet here she was talking about faraway futures when for all he knew his world might end in weeks. He tried to put it down to just not knowing how to react in a situation that was as unprecedented as it was painful. Maybe the cultural differences were greater than he realized, even now.

“Whatever follows, it seems it’ll more likely happen out there than here,” he said gruffly. “Maybe that’s the way it should be . . . if that’s where it all began.”

Sariena looked at him and shook her head. “Oh Lan, this all feels so wrong. It’s as if we’re walking out somehow . . . abandoning you to this.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Keene said. “We had our chance long ago to be more ready. And we’ll bounce back again, eventually, the same as we did before. But it won’t have to be right back to the beginning again. Everything doesn’t have to be lost this time. We’ll be depending on you for that. It’s your turn to run with the ball now, for a while. Just don’t drop it.”

They looked at each other silently. Sariena took a step toward him, it seemed involuntarily, and hesitated. . . . Then they extended their arms and pulled each other into a hug, both at the same time. It was the first time they had touched in any way intimately. Keene felt the fullness of Sariena’s body through the suit and drew her close, oblivious to the others around them; her arms found his neck and tightened to bring the sides of their faces together. In a few timeless seconds, all the things they had left unsaid communicated themselves between them.

“I have a plane to catch,” Keene murmured, finally loosening his hold. He felt her nod and draw back.

“Be sure to see Gallian before you go,” Sariena whispered. “I think he wants to talk to you.”

“Of course I wouldn’t leave without seeing him,” Keene told her. He turned one last time to the door and sent a wave back at her.

He met Gallian in the corridor, talking simultaneously to an assistant manager from the hotel on one side and a woman with a clipboard on the other, apparently on two different subjects. At the same time, Keene’s driver, who had been waiting by the elevator, stepped forward. “Excuse me, Dr. Keene, but I have to remind you. We need to be leaving soon.”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Keene said. “Go and find Leo Cavan for me, would you? I think he’s in one of the rooms that way.”

Gallian excused himself from the two people he was with and steered Keene into one of the bedrooms—from the look of the clothes scattered around, quite possibly his own.

“Just to say good-bye,” Keene said. “More hurried than I’d have wished, but there we are. It’s been a busy couple of days.”

“Things don’t look good,” Gallian said gravely.

“It’s not your concern. Kronia did what it could.”

Gallian moved closer to grip Keene’s shoulder. Although the door was closed, he lowered his voice instinctively. “Landen, you don’t have to go through with this, you know. Not only Kronia;
you
did all that you could too. Why not leave it now for those who wouldn’t listen? With the departure schedule changed, not all of the emigrants who have places are going to make it to Tapapeque. There will be room to spare on the
Osiris
. We can take a few more in any case. Just a few days from now. . . . You can still see Saturn, Landen.”

Now Keene realized why Sariena had spoken the way she had. She had been trying to put visions in his mind of what could be. It had been her way of asking him to come back with them. And while every facet of reason and rationality within him said yes, take it, nothing else made sense, something underneath it all held him back. Gallian either saw it or sensed it before Keene made any response, and released his hold.

“Sariena said she felt as if she were running out,” Keene said. “Yet this isn’t even her world or your world. How do you think I’d feel?” He forced a tired smile and shook his head. “Of course I appreciate the thought. But I belong here, to do what I can. Don’t ask me to explain it or make sense of it.”

Gallian sighed heavily, nodded, and didn’t argue. “I’d kind of guessed, but I promised Sariena I would try. It’s a part of your culture that I don’t pretend to understand. And yet . . .” he stepped back, shaking his head, “I have to admit there is something strangely magnificent about it. Is it the same quality that makes those like Mondel—a refusal to see the obvious odds? But without it our world wouldn’t exist at all. You’re wrong about where you belong, though, Landen. You belong out there. But, of course, you’d have to experience it before you could know that.”

Keene held his eye for a moment, then checked his watch. “Maybe one day,” he said. “But not in the next couple of days. A safe voyage. And thanks for trying.” A tap sounded on the door. They shook hands firmly. Gallian opened the door to reveal Keene’s driver with Cavan standing behind.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Keene, but we really have to—”

“It’s okay. I’m done. Let’s go.” As he came out of the room, he turned Cavan around to stay with him as they walked toward the elevators. “Leo, I need a word with you and there isn’t time here. Ride with me to Andrews and we can talk on the way. The driver will bring you back afterward.”

The elevator arrived, and they stepped in. Keene saw Sariena watching from the entrance to the suite as the doors closed in front of him. He still wasn’t sure what had held him back.

The staff car moved briskly through the night streets of the capital, preceded by a police escort flashing red and blue lights. On the way out of the Engleton and for the first couple of miles in the car, Keene summarized the events of the past two days. Cavan, alongside him in the backseat, listened grimly but without interrupting.

“Something strange is going on in the reporting setup, and I’m pretty sure Voler’s at the center of it,” Keene concluded. “I want you to put these espionage skills that you’ve been developing to work, and see if you can follow up on a few things.”

“My word, you are moving up in the world, Landen,” Cavan said. “At this rate I’ll be working for you officially before much longer. Very well, what do you need?”

“The Cambridge IAU Center, Interplanetary Physics at Goddard, and a couple of other places on the East Coast are the ones causing the confusion,” Keene replied. “And they’re all places that Voler has connections with. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. It’s as if they’re trying to delay a clear picture coming out of it all for a few days. Now why would they want to do something like that? Or more specifically, why would Voler?”

“I don’t know. You’ve obviously done a lot more thinking about this than I have, Landen. So for once, why don’t you tell me?”

“All right, how does this grab you? If JPL is right and it’s going to be bad, Voler already knows. The moment it becomes official, all kinds of controls are going to be slapped on everyone’s freedom of action. The longer he can stall that, the more time he’ll have to move on whatever he’s cooking up. Because that’s what I think it is, Leo. A day like today, and he’s not around? He’s up to something.”

“Hmm. It sounds likely. How much do we know?”

“When I went to see David Salio, he said something about commonalities of interests between the academic establishment and the financial-defense sector. That could give some leads as to who Voler is working with—obviously he’s not on his own. I noticed at the meeting with Hayer that he seemed to be part of a group that voted together. It’s no secret that Tyndam up at Cambridge and he are old cronies. And Hixson at Goddard has to be part of it from the way he changed his tune so suddenly—I mean, what else was Voler doing there at that time? But most of all, I’d be interested to know more about this guy, Vincent Queal, that Voler seems to have a connection with. All I can tell you right now is that he’s with one of the intelligence agencies, which could mean that some part of the military is involved. Let me know whatever you can find out. As far as I know I’ll be with Charlie Hu at JPL, or I’ll make sure that somebody there knows how to find me. They’ve got a direct landline, so I’ll be accessible whatever happens with the communications.”