The Colligatarch had not proposed a firm course of action for dealing with the problem. Was it really waiting to consider what its human associates could come up with, or was it stalling because it couldn’t decide what to do?
It was not a comforting thought to carry back with him to his office.
XX
Lisa had delivered another meal to Eric and, more importantly, was watching to make certain he ate it. He’d been monitoring the main console for more than seventy-five hours without sleep. His eyelids did not flutter, and his hands were steady on the controls. As steady as the monotone in which he gave instructions.
“Ready … step through. Ready … step through.”
By now the Terminus resembled a well-oiled machine, and it functioned in comparable silence, each man and woman doing their job efficiently and without question.
Now and then he allowed himself a recreational thought.
They’re confused, he told himself. They can’t figure out exactly what we’re up to, and they’re afraid to attack because the Station will suffer. So suggestions are moving up and down the chain of command, and will continue to do so until someone garners a consensus for their favored course of action.
“Eric, tell me something.”
“Ready … anything I can, light of my life … step through.”
“Why do you love me? You’re obviously much more intelligent.”
“They really restricted your education to a few designated areas, didn’t they? Intelligence is a poor measure of humanity.”
She leaned over to kiss him without obstructing his vision. “When you say that I don’t feel so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Lisa. You’ve just been undereducated, and deliberately so. Ready … step through.”
“We’ve all been undereducated, compared to you,” Jeeter told him. “Not that I envy you your manner of education.” He glanced toward the team guarding the airlock, received a wave by way of reply.
“Still quiet, but they’re bound to try something again soon.”
“Another twenty hours and it won’t matter what they try,” Eric reminded him.
“That’s true.” He sounded wistful. “It’s going to feel funny being truly independent of Earth. We’ll be the first group of humans in history to break the bonds for real. We’ll be freer than any settlers have ever been. I wonder what Paradise is really like?”
“We’ll all know soon enough. I expect Paradise to be like paradise. For everyone’s sake. If not, I expect to face a lynch mob twenty-five-thousand strong.”
Jeeter looked around the busy, quiet room and made shushing motions with his hands. “Don’t talk like that. You’ve got everyone convinced that you know what you’re talking about. This isn’t the time to sow uncertainty.”
“The universe is a maelstrom of uncertainty, Jeeter. I’m ninety-five percent sure of the references I drew upon from the Syrax catalog. I considered the five percent deviation acceptable when I made this proposal.”
“Five percent,” Jeeter murmured. “How come you never mentioned that before?”
“Because it would have sowed uncertainty,” Eric reminded him without a glimmer of a smile.
Jeeter shook his head slowly. “It’s a good thing the Syrax didn’t program you for a career in show business.”
“I believe those aspects of human existence are a mystery to them. I never was the life of the party.”
“You’re sure making up for lost time. You are the party now, Eric.” He let his gaze wander back to the undisturbed airlock. “I wonder what they’ll try first?”
Dr. Dhurapati Ponnani was pondering the same question as she stood watching Commander Rasmusson give orders in City Security Central. As it developed, they had less time to reach a decision than they knew.
The young officer who approached Rasmusson was out of breath from running. He saluted quickly and interposed himself between the commander and his subofficers. Ponnani moved closer.
“Whal the devil’s wrong with you, mister?” Rasmusson growled. “I didn’t ask you to join this discussion.”
“Sorry, sir,” the young officer said apologetically, panting hard. “I’ll accept any reprimand, but I considered it vital to deliver this message personally.”
“What message? Why didn’t you call it through?”
“Sir, recalling your general directive about maintaining media silence concerning the difficulty at hand, I—”
“Never mind. Say what you came to say.”
“I’ve just come up from Traffic, sir. There’s a very large ship approaching the city. It's half a luna out and coming in damn fast. It’s Syrax, sir.”
Rasmusson looked grim. “Then this is all a part of their plan.” He looked to his left. “Ovimbi, tell communications to try to raise the Syrax, and fast.” Then he turned to the watching Ponnani. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but this takes things out of my hands. I have my orders. We may have to blow the Station.”
She sighed. “I am expecting suggestions from Colligatarch Authority any time now as to how to proceed with Eric Abbott.”
“Tell it to the Syrax. I’ll delay as long as I can and no longer.”
“I understand. I disagree, and I’ll lodge a formal protest, but I understand.”
“That’s all I expect you to do.” There was a frantic wave from Ovimbi, the communications officer, and Rasmusson stalked over to a wide, curving console. Speakers crackled as communication was established.
The voice that filled the room was gentle but metallic and stilted. The Syrax made use of mechanical translating devices whenever they felt it necessary to speak to human beings. The surprise was that video was provided, and the large opto screen above communications immediately became the focus of attention throughout Security Central.
