Part 29 (2/2)

Darlene at best half listened to Britt's valedictory speech, brooding still on the fallout in her personal life of the group's unresolved rift. Despite every appearance of victory, Kyle wanted America to stay its course in a dogged quest for scientific certainties.

She didn't know how the mother s.h.i.+p had been projected. She didn't care. The key thing was, it was gone. That, and that the masersats were neutralized-for which Kyle deserved full credit. They had in hand, finally, one of the orbiting weapons-again thanks to him. With his own lab showing just how kludged it was, continued anxiety about alien threats was no longer tenable. Sorry, hon, we have more pressing problems. Like mending fences with the ingrate rest of the world. Like ten-plus percent unemployment. Like climate disasters. Could I, she wondered yet again, interest him in global-change research? How rotten a wife would I be to try?

”The President will be here in a few minutes, to add a few words.”

She set down her gla.s.s, shaking her head no, when an attentive steward started her way. She'd be driving

home. All she could do for Kyle tonight was let him drink freely.The President entered. ”Everyone, thank you for coming.” Robeson circulated, shaking the men's hands and embracing the women. ”What you accomplished, for country and planet, is exceptional. That so much had to be done in secrecy-and was done despite the approbation of the uninformed and unappreciative-makes those deeds all the more noteworthy. You have my complete respect and admiration.

”The dissatisfying part of our circ.u.mstances, I don't need to tell you, is the world's lack of

understanding. That, my friends, makes the next point so difficult. It's surely far harder for you.”

The President's gaze, which had been sweeping from face to face, locked now on Kyle. This will reallyhurt, thought Darlene.”The campaign you orchestrated a.s.sured our victory. But in any war, especially one of subterfuge and deceit, an early casualty is truth. Suppression of the truth, our focus on the alien artifacts, and our

custody of those artifacts, continue to estrange America from other nations.

”In a televised address Monday evening, I will announce completion of our program of alien study. The alien satellite and wrecked stars.h.i.+p will be released to international investigation, under UN stewards.h.i.+p.

I will also cancel the remaining satellite-recovery missions.”

”Mr. President,” Kyle blurted. ”What about Clean Slate?””I'm sorry, Kyle. I know your concerns are sincere. That said, it's been a long time. Maybe the aliens tried something, and it did not work. You convinced us, rightly, that we had to understand the threat hanging over our head. Despite economic pain and world condemnation, we followed the course you laid. And maybe the alien captain was simply messing with our heads. The fact is, there is no credible evidence of an alien threat. So now-”

”But Grelben didn't know Swelk had bugged his bridge.” Kyle couldn't contain his frustration. Darlene

cringed-you don't interrupt the President. You certainly don't use that lecturing tone with him.

”Grelben couldn't have been speaking for our benefit.””So now,” repeated Robeson, ”it's time to move on, to enjoy such modest rewards as are in my power to bestow. I have many friends in the private sector, for those looking to make a change. And you'll have a sympathetic ear for new challenges you may aspire to in the executive branch.” Robeson winked. ”I won't mind if you avoid positions requiring Senate confirmation.”

”Respectfully, sir.” Kyle was nothing if not persistent, thought Darlene. Sometimes maddeningly so.

”We haven't checked the moon yet, although the aliens spent time there. We need a lunar program.”That remark earned Britt a presidential glower: He's your protege. Britt read the dirty look the same way she did. He took Kyle's arm and steered him into a corner. Their whispered conversation was unintelligible but intense.

Darlene joined Kyle as soon as Britt left, standing so that to face her, Kyle remained facing the corner. Behind him, by the hors d'ouevres table, Ryan and Erin compared notes animatedly-about Kyle's near meltdown, surely. Britt and the President were in another corner having their own one-on-one. ”Honey, a boss once advised me, 'The third time I tell you something, I really mean it.' Wasn't there a third 'no' about a lunar program long ago?”

”I've lost count.” He had the decency to look embarra.s.sed, perhaps realizing he had pushed too far. ”I'm getting another drink. You want a refill?”

”No, thanks. What about the President's gracious offer?” Diplomat 101: when an issue is irresolvable,

change the subject.

”Outplacement a.s.sistance?” He mimed deep thought for about two seconds. ”Astronaut doesn't require confirmation.” His answer was too loud to have been only her benefit.

Britt, thankfully out of Kyle's line of sight, extracted a twenty-dollar bill from a coat pocket and handed the money to the President.

Darlene would have given Britt long odds on that bet.

* * * ”Hi, Chuck,” Kyle called to the bored-looking guard. Hammond Matthews, ambling at his side, waved a greeting. They tried to exude nonchalance: the visiting VIP and the lab director on a casual walk-by inspection.

”Greetings, Docs. Too bad you're working. It's a beautiful weekend.” He pointed at the note taped to the gla.s.s door clicking shut behind them. ”I haven't seen the computer geeks. Can I call the help desk for you?”

”No, thanks. It won't take long once they arrive.” Matt's smile stayed internal until they rounded a corner. ”No time at all.” The advertised network upgrade was entirely fict.i.tious.

”Your secret plan for a.s.suring our privacy is a sign on the door?

Matt mashed his thumb onto the fingerprint scanner beside the lab door. ”The note's a memory jogger for anyone coming by despite the well-publicized scheduled maintenance. Their ID card won't get them inside today.”

The lab had been stripped in preparation for the masersat's arrival; weeks later, the room still looked barren. Odds and ends, however-soda cans and coffee cups, small tools, digital meters, misplaced cell phones, open tech journals left facedown, wire sc.r.a.ps-had proliferated everywhere. Five computers remained on despite the purported network upgrade, their monitors flas.h.i.+ng screen savers. Amid chaos striving to rea.s.sert itself, the masersat awaited.

Beneath its tarp, the satellite gaped open. ”You have the parts?” asked Kyle. Getting a nod, he unsoldered four electronic components. Whatever those devices did, components with like surface markings-parts codes, they hoped-were in every Krulchukor pocket computer.

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