Colt hesitated a moment, then turned to the desk and punched savagely at the phone keyboard. "JFK central switchboard," he said into the speaker grille.
The tiny phone screen glowed pearl gray but no picture came on. A man's voice said, "JFK Aerospaceport," in a bored, flat voice.
"This is Colonel Colt. Put me through to Major Stodt, in communications."
The voice suddenly became more alert. "Sir? Would you please repeat the order so that our audio verification equip- ment can check your voiceprint?"
Colt did it, and with a single flicker of the screen a pinch-faced man with a high domed forehead appeared. His blue tunic bore the gold oak leaves of an Air Force major.
"Stodt here."
Colt gave Kinsman a sidelong glance. Then, "I want a tight laser link with Alpha. Full scramble and no tapes. At once. Pipe it into this phone line."
The Major's narrow face seemed to tighten even more. "Sir, that is not in our operational plan."
"Did I ask if it was?" Colt snapped. "Do it!"
"But . . . but, sir, there's no way for us to monitor a laser link unless we have time to—" 556
"Stodt, you've got ten minutes to get that fucking link set up. In the eleventh minute you can start writing me a report explaining why an asshole of a communications tech has been promoted beyond his talents. Now move, Captain. Or do you want to try for lieutenant?"
The Major visibly trembled. "Right away, sir," he mut- tered. The screen went blank.
Colt turned back to Kinsman. "I don't know how long it'll take 'em to catch on to what you're doing and cut the link. Better talk fast—if you get the chance to talk at all."
The pain was a dull, sullen throb, like a cinder: charred black on the outside but red and glowering deep within. Kinsman said merely, "Thanks, Frank."
Colt shook his head but said nothing. He walked back to the couch near the silent wall screen and plopped down. The screen was showing the Guy Lombardo simulacrum smiling and waving its baton in perfect three-four time in front of an orchestra of robots. Real people were dancing on the floor of the Starlight Roof.
"We should be leaving for JFK ourselves," Landau said. Harriman gruffed, "Those bastards won't let us go. They've got us by the balls here."
"No," Colt said. "I told them that it'd be okay for you to return to Alpha and then to Selene. We were gonna have Alpha under our control by the time your shuttle got there. That was our plan."
Kinsman listened with only half his mind. The rest was racing through the possibilities. Can't let them dock at Alpha. But they'll probably try to force a docking. Or maybe they've got enough pressure suits to jump across and grab the emergency hatches. God, if there's much fighting up there they could destroy the whole station. Diane . . .
The phone screen flashed into a sparkle of colors. A voice—not Major Stodt's—said, "Direct link with Alpha is coming on, sir."
The screen cleared and a female communications techni- cian, looking faintly surprised, said, "Go ahead, JFK."
