Some of the commander’s schoolboy sarcasm evaporated. “I understand.”
“It is well that you do.”
“All right. Now we all know what Abbott's worth.”
“You are giving us an opportunity to learn a great deal about the methodology of Syrax bioengineering,” Ponnani said.
“The concession of our part,” whispered the alien.
“I don’t know,” Rasmusson was muttering. “You’re asking us to let a fox in the chicken coop with only the fox’s word as security.”
“The metaphor is clear,” said the Syrax without humor.
“I will contact the necessary authorities,” Ponnani said abruptly, “and pass on your proposal."
“You refer to your mechanical administration?”
“The Colligatarch, yes, and its human operators. It would be encouraging if we could cooperate on something like this.”
“You may construe it as a first step in closer relations, if it will expedite matters.”
“I’m sure it will. We have measured the Syrax teleport range. Stay outside it and we will contact you again as soon as a decision is reached.”
The Syrax executed a strange, fluid motion with its head and arms. Then the opto went black.
“I don’t like it,” Rasmusson said immediately. “Letting a Syrax into GATE Station poses all sorts of dangers.”
“I’m aware of that, but the fact remains that it may be our one chance to regain control of it before Abbott and his people do something unimaginable. I think they’re as scared of him as we are.”
“Nonsense! He’s taken control of his trap, but he’s still trapped.”
“We don’t know that. We don’t know much of anything about Eric Abbott and only a little of what he’s capable of. I don’t like giving the unknown too much time. Fortunately, I don’t have to make the final decision. That’s up to the Colligatarch and the Council Authority.”
“But we can make our recommendations. What are you going to recommend, Dr. Ponnani?”
“I’m not going to recommend a damn thing.”
“You’ll be branded as indecisive.”
She smiled at him as she moved closer to the communications console. “Fortunately, Commander, that is not as much of a vice in my profession as it is in yours.”
They were almost through, in every sense of the word. At the main control console Eric sat steel-steady. He’d gone four days without -sleep, but there was no hint of drowsiness in his gaze and his fingers moved methodically over the instrumentation.
Everyone wishing to transpose to Paradise had done so except for the technical and security personnel, and they were in the process of being shifted. In the interim, Eric was bringing through more than a hundred of the disgruntled who wished neither Eden nor Paradise but to return to Earth. When they were freed to tell their stories of deception to the media, optos would burn out all over the globe. The government would try to silence them, but it’s difficult to silence a hundred angry men, women, and children. Reestablishing only one-way communication with the colonies was going to be a near impossible task for the authorities.
Lisa walked over to stand next to him. She was chewing rations transposed from Eden.
“Hungry, husband?” Madras had made it formal. Kindly old Madras who’d declared Eden her home and had proven unable to resist the challenge posed by a new world. She gave up her Council post gladly. She suffered from chronic bronchitis, and the promise of a warm world eventually proved too much for her. So while waiting for her turn to step through to Paradise, she’d performed the ceremony, beaming at the happy couple from in front of Eric’s station, pronouncing them man and wife in the light of three worlds.
“Not hungry, thanks.”
“You look tired.”
“I suppose I should be, but that’s not it. Something else nagging at me. Going on for almost a whole day now. Digs at me and won’t go away. Ready … step through.”
“You’re sure you’re not sick?” she asked him, concerned.
“I’ve never been sick a day in my life. I always thought I was lucky.” He laughed hollowly. “No luck to it. Just good engineering.” He shrugged. “We’re almost finished anyway.”
“I wish you could be less pessimistic."
“I think I was built pessimistic. Persistent and pessimistic.”
Around them the open spaces between the consoles were filled with the hundred who intended to return to Earth. Children played and bawled, and a thousand conversations made it difficult for the technical crew to continue their work. It was impossible to reach a port, since returnees crowded close to gaze out at the world they’d left behind and would soon be returning to. Eric envied them their affection if not its object. For him, home was a place not yet seen.
Abruptly he rose from his seat, blinked at the GATE. “Lisa!” She turned at the sharpness in his voice. Jeeter also looked up in puzzlement, as did several other techs working near him.
Eric turned a slow circle, staring off into the distance. Returning couples milled noisily around his position, unaware that anything out of the ordinary was going on.
When he moved toward the GATE, leaving the main console activated and locked, Jeeter rose to shout at him.
“We’re not through bringing the last ones over from Eden.”
“No time!” Eric shouted at him. “Everyone for transposition, get in line, now!” The technical and security teams rushed to comply, wondering at the sudden shift in routine. Five-by-five, Eric gave orders for them to step through while Jeeter manned the main console.
At last only the three of them were left, together, with a makeshift tech crew composed of people returning to Earth. That too was part of the plan, though this last-minute change in sequence was not. They watched anxiously, wondering but unwilling to argue with the man who’d succeeded in returning them to GATE Station.
Jeeter moved toward the GATE. “Let’s go, Eric, Lisa. Why the sudden rush, anyway?”
