Part 28 (1/2)
”That he doesn't know what he is doing,” Kingsley finished. He instantly reprimanded himself for this childish outburst, but Arno's face already congested with red anger.
”You are not to take this any further-”
”Sorry, but I have to say this is stupid.”
”If it can't hear our media, it won't know as much.”
”Yes, but hasn't a moment's inspection of its many transmissions told us that it likes listening in?”
”Intelligence has established that leaks onto cable TV led it to deduce that the launches were ours.”
”This thing is not an idiot. It knows quite well the state of international politics. Little children in the street guessed the truth-why shouldn't the Eater?”
Arno subsided slightly, long enough for Benjamin to say, ”I don't think it's a good idea, either.”
”Who cares cares?” Arno flared again. ”You guys don't get any say. The White House just wondered what you thought it would do when the President's-and the U.N.'s-shutdown starts.” the U.N.'s-shutdown starts.”
”When will it be?” Kingsley asked with what he hoped was a calm, interested expression. Hard to attain these days, though Hard to attain these days, though.
Arno glanced at his watch. ”Two hours.”
”Expect something bad,” Benjamin said, then went back to looking at his shoes.
”I agree,” Kingsley said.
”Why? The whole planet ceases all transmissions, including satellite cable traffic, telephones, radio, TV. So what?”
”It will not like any sign that we're breaking off contact,” Benjamin said, a lackl.u.s.ter sentence that he tossed off as though he was thinking of something else. Which he probably was. Since leaving the comm apparatus where he had spent several hours with the Channing-craft, he had been distracted. No surprise, but Kingsley needed help and in this climate old allies were the best. At least with Benjamin, he did not have to watch his back.
”I don't see why that has to be,” Arno said, ”It's been sending lots of chatty stuff, never mentions the D.C. thing or the missiles.”
”Aliens are alien,” Kingsley said, trying not to sound as though he were talking to a child. ”Do not misread-which is to say, do not ascribe easy motives to its statements.”
”Look, the Security Council thinks this is the best way to show it that we aren't giving away any secrets, not anymore.”
”How jolly.”
”Look, it even sent a commentary on Marcus Aurelius to one of the cultural semiotics people. Philosophy-and it seemed to agree with this guy.” Arno mugged a bit and folded his arms, leaning back against his desk in a way that Kingsley had come to know signaled what Arno thought was a put-away shot.
Kingsley disliked obvious displays of erudition, but here was a useful place for it. ”Aurelius was a stoic, resigned to the evil of the world, wis.h.i.+ng to detach himself from it. Also happened to be an Emperor of Rome, which curiously enough made detachment an easier prospect. Before organized press conferences, as I recall. Not the sort of att.i.tude I would wish of a thing that could incinerate the planet.”
Arno looked wounded, an about-face from his flash of belligerence only moments before. Everyone seemed to be running on fast-forward now. He said gravely, ”It's getting more refined, if that's the right word.”
”Is it progress if a cannibal uses a knife and fork?” Kingsley asked, crossing his legs wearily.
Benjamin laughed, just the wrong thing to do. Sarcasm was useful only if played deadpan straight. Arno did not take Benjamin's chuckling well, reddening up in the nose and cheeks again.
”I mean that you cannot mistake a change of style for change of purpose.” Kingsley hoped that stating the obvious would get them back on track. People under strain sometimes had such a reset ability, and perhaps it could get him out of this sc.r.a.pe.
”I understand,” Arno said, ”but the President wants an a.s.sessment of what to expect when when”-heavy emphasis here, with eyebrows-”the shutdown starts.”
”Retribution, I should say,” Kingsley said.
Benjamin managed a wan smile, still regarding his shoes with intense interest. ”You're slipping into human thought modes yourself, ol' King boy. Alien, it might do anything.”
Arno said hotly, ”That's no d.a.m.n good, tell the White House the sonuvab.i.t.c.h could do any d.a.m.n thing-”
”Though it has the utility of being true,” Kingsley said.
”I bet it will do both.” Benjamin looked up then and smiled, as if at a joke he alone knew. ”Something nasty, and something weird.”
”Good point,” Kingsley said. ”No reason it must do only one thing.”
”You guys are no d.a.m.n use at all.”
”You bet,” Benjamin said with something that resembled happiness. Kingsley studied him, but could make nothing of the expression on his old friend's face.
4.
Benjamin wondered when the gray curtains would go away. They hung everywhere, deadening, m.u.f.fling. Even this latest bad news took place behind the veils. He registered the dispatches, but his pulse did not quicken and the world remained its flat, pallid tone.
”What the h.e.l.l is is it?” Arno asked the a.s.sembled mix. it?” Arno asked the a.s.sembled mix.
Amy said in a voice obviously kept clear and deliberate, after the panic of the last ten minutes, ”A magnetic loop. It's tight, small, and moving at very high velocity.”
”Headed where?” Arno asked a man in a gray suit whom Benjamin had never seen before.
”Intersecting the Pacific region in about twenty minutes.”
”It's that fast? The Eater's a long way out now, nearly geosynchronous.” Arno looked around the room for help.
”The hole ejected it half an hour ago,” Amy said. ”We caught it all across the spectrum.”
”What'll we do?” Arno glanced at his watch, at his U Agency advisers, back to the astronomers.
”No time for a warning,” Benjamin said, just to be saying something.
”Where'll it hit?” Arno licked his lips.
”Looks like mid-Pacific,” the gray-suited man said.
”Why in h.e.l.l shoot at that?”
”We are in the mid-Pacific,” Kingsley said quietly.
”At us? It's shooting at us?”