The Devil's Eye (28 page)

"What's going to happen to Bong?" I asked. Kilgore looked at me, startled. I got the impression he'd forgotten I was there. "Who?" he asked. "Bong. The guy in the picture." "We haven't decided yet." He lowered his voice. "I guess it's safe to say he'll be pretty much the last guy off the planet." He picked up a pen, scribbled himself a note, and put it in his pocket. "Well, the truth is, I'm not going to ask you to hide what you know." "Really?" "There's no way I can keep it quiet now. Too many people know about it. The leaks have already started. So it's best if the news comes from us. If we handle it right, we should be able to avoid widespread disruptions." "I think you're underestimating your people, Mr. Administrator." "I wasn't aware you were a psychologist, Alex. But I hope you're right. When are you releasing the story?" "At midnight." He wiped his forehead. "God." Nobody said anything. "All right." Kilgore took a deep breath. "This is going to sound politically motivated." "Okay." "It's essential that people not lose complete faith in their government at a time when they most need leadership. It will be chaotic enough as it is. What I would like, what I beg from you, is that you let me make the announcement. Hold back on what you were planning. It can do you no harm. Just until tomorrow morning." "When did you intend to let them know?" "Tomorrow. I've scheduled an address." His gaze shifted to me. "I need you to stay quiet until then. And it is essential that you not mention Wexler and his part in all this. If people discover there was a group within their government that knew about this in advance, that tried to use it for their own benefit, they will not trust us again. So I need you to tell the media how you found out, and I will see that you get full credit. You'll even get medals. But leave it at that. Okay?" "Sir," said Alex, "Rob Peifer already knows part of the story." "Peifer." The Administrator's brow wrinkled. Alex glanced at me. "Global." "How much does he know?" "He knows," I said, "that Alex was held by Wexler. And I'm pretty sure he'll be able to put the rest together. But I think I've persuaded him not to say anything about that aspect." "Okay." Kilgore's eyes slid shut. "I can't promise anything." "It's okay. I'll talk to his editor." He was in agony. "There's no way the Wexler business won't come out eventually. But the gamma-ray jet will be enough bad news for one day." We sat for a long time, staring at one another. "It's hard to believe it's really happening," said Circe. "So what are you going to do, Mr. Administrator? Try to evacuate?" "It's hopeless, Alex. We'll get as many people off as we can. But-" He shook his head. "How much damage will it do?" I asked. "The gamma-ray bolt?" Circe answered: "It'll kill anything that's exposed. It'll be possible for some people to get into shelters. But afterward we won't be able to grow our own food supply." Alex sat motionless. "We can't run a mass evacuation," said Kilgore. "We have about a hundred ships. They'll carry an average of fifteen people. Not quite fifteen. Chase, twenty-eight million babies will be born on Salud Afar by the end of this year. Does anyone seriously think that the entire human fleet could transport even our new arrivals?"

I called Peifer and told him the story would be delayed again. "Until tomorrow morning."

I explained why we needed him to cooperate and not jump the gun. He wasn't happy, so I appealed to his patriotism. That went nowhere. I said something about being his slave for the rest of my life if he'd go along quietly. He complained that we'd caved in. He told me he'd thought Alex and I had a reasonable degree of integrity, and now we were letting a politician cover his tracks. "Kilgore says he had nothing to do with it," I said.

In the end I promised to give him the inside story and a lengthy interview. Finally, it was time to go back to Rimway. I reserved seats on the next day's afternoon shuttle.

Neither of us was sleepy that night, so we went down to the lounge. It was called the Skylark, and it featured a woman doing dreamy stuff on a keyboard and drinks I'd never heard of, straight-ups and colbies and something that looked like liquid silver and left me feeling as if nothing mattered but the moment. We settled into a table near the keyboard and toasted Salud Afar. Long may she wave. There were maybe twelve other people in the place, and human service rather than bots, which gave it a warm touch. A good-looking young guy came over, told us his name was Max, and said he'd be our server. He was maybe twenty-two on a Rimway calendar. I wondered whether he was married. It was hard to tell. Men on Salud Afar don't wear rings. It has something to do with their masculinity. I never quite figured out what. But he
felt
unattached. Maybe it was the way he looked at me. Maybe it was my imagination. I thought about his chances of getting off-world when the news got out and two billion people started scrambling for the gates. Poor Max. If he left now, tonight, that moment, he could get passage on one of the two liners that departed weekly for Rimway and Toxicon. The lady at the keyboard was singing "Lost Hours" while she writhed. There was a young couple at a table near us, laughing and toasting the evening, and a group on the far side celebrating something. I watched a young man trying to manage a pickup with an obviously reluctant woman at the bar, and I found myself hoping he'd succeed. But she got up and moved to another place. Our drinks came. Something called a quibble-really-for Alex. I got a Valo delight, which was the slow silver. We whiled away what was left of the night, talking about carpe diem, how you should live for the present because you never really know what the next day will bring, what might even happen on the walk home. Except on this very unusual occasion,
we knew
. After about an hour, Alex said he'd had enough and wandered off. I sat awhile longer, nursing my drinks. And finally I smiled at the guy who'd been trying to do the pickup at the bar. When he came over, I encouraged him, and eventually went home with him. Not sure how Max made out. But that evening I was rooting for everybody.

Kilgore was right. The story had leaked during the night, and in the morning the news spread around the world. By the time the media were announcing an address by the Administrator, it had already become a matter of containing a growing panic. Before Kilgore got anywhere close to his audience, there were announcements that every seat on every flight to Rimway and Toxicon had been sold out for the next year, which was as far ahead as they took reservations. Prices on the carriers spiked, allegedly because nobody would be coming
to
Salud Afar, and, therefore, the carriers had to cover their costs. In addition, a new interstellar transport company was reported to be forming. It didn't yet have a name, but it would, according to the experts, begin carrying people off-world within the next few months. The four manufacturers of interstellars were already swamped with orders. Buyers were reporting that prices had skyrocketed with the start of business. Meantime, the real-estate market crashed. The online networks overflowed with terror. Was it really true the world would be destroyed? Why had we not been keeping watch on something so dangerous? Rumors were everywhere that the Cleevs had known for centuries that Callistra had gone nova. True believers announced that the end times had arrived. We heard stories that stars had exploded in the Confederacy as well, that the Mute worlds, filled as they were with infidels, were also going down. Experts were everywhere, illustrating the dire effects of a gamma-ray burst with holos showing the burst itself striking Salud Afar, bathing it in radiation, soaking it, submerging it. They depicted people trying to shelter themselves, hiding in caves and basements, often escaping the radiation only to die of starvation. Or freezing to death, as weather cycles became disrupted. Ivan got interviewed and used the term
Thunderbolt
. It immediately became official terminology. Some experts actually seemed to be enjoying themselves. If there were skeptics anywhere, they must have bought in when Number 17 Parkway announced that the Administrator would be making an address later that morning. And as the various time zones woke up to the story, they got on board, too. Ailos Johansen, who hosted the interview show
Imkah
with Johansen, was already calling for a vote of no confidence against the Administrator. The vote, if there were to be one, would have to be approved by the Legislature. If they agreed, the voting public would make the decision.

When Kilgore appeared, the casual, relaxed demeanor I'd seen during his other addresses was gone. He was seated in his office, clothed in the ceremonial robe of office. He looked up from a notebook.
"My friends around the world,"
he said,
"I have spent the last twelve hours in discussion with the chief executives of each of the Coalition states, and with other principals. You have probably already heard the news reports, so let me tell you what we know, and what action we plan to take. "We are faced today with a somber reality. Let me begin by putting to rest the rumors that have been circulating in recent weeks of an imminent war with the Ashiyyur. We do not wish that to happen, and we have no reason to believe it will. "But we
are
facing an emergency of dire proportions. I learned yesterday that Callistra, the single star that has shone so brightly in our heavens for centuries, that will still be visible tonight, has nevertheless exploded in what scientists call a hypernova."
He paused. Got up. Came closer to the viewer. Managed to look like a guy who had answers.
"Callistra is a great distance from Salud Afar. But the explosion occurred during the time of the Third Union. The star that we still see each night in the sky has not existed for twelve centuries. "The explosion released bursts of gamma rays. These have been sprayed in all directions, and, unfortunately, we now know that one of them is headed our way. "What does this mean for Salud Afar? The situation is not good, but we
can
take action to protect ourselves. For one thing, it is still three years away. For another, our atmosphere will act as a shield to ward off the worst of the effects. Nevertheless, there will be some penetration. "We are working to secure assistance from the Confederacy. We've been constructing shelters against the possibility of a war with the Ashiyyur. These shelters will be used to protect us when the gamma rays arrive. But in fact a simple basement will suffice. The burst will require slightly more than three days to pass. We have already begun storing supplies against that time.

Kilgore continued another three or four minutes in that vein. He announced the formation of a global executive committee to oversee what he called global security strategy. (That sounded as if the Thunderbolt were merely something to be gotten through. A severe storm, perhaps, or an incursion by foreign spies.) He promised to report regularly on what the committee was doing, and told us that while it wasn't going to be easy, he knew that the people of the world would rise to the occasion.
"Let us then go forward together. Let our response in the trying days ahead become our legacy to our sons and daughters. And if Salud Afar endures for a million years, they will say this was her finest hour."

Then he was gone. "You know," said Alex, "the guy read the book after all." "Which book?" He looked at me and shook his head. "Let it go, Chase."

I was due at Global to do my interview with Peifer. When I went up to the roof to get a taxi, a small crowd had gathered, and they were talking in hushed voices about the end of the world. "The Administrator said it's going to happen." "That can't be right. What the hell's he know?" "-Never got it straight before-" "-All going to die-" "-Crazy-" "-We're going to my cousin's. Voka's. He's in a safe place away from here-" Down in the street it sounded as if people were yelling at one another. Twenty minutes later I arrived at Global. It's a ground-level pad, and the same thing was happening. Everybody was scared, and nobody was talking about anything else. Peifer was waiting for me in the executive offices. Staff members were running around, peering into displays, talking into their links. "Looks busy," I said. "You kidding? This is the biggest story ever. Why the hell didn't you and Alex tell me what you were onto?" "We didn't know.
I
didn't know until I looked up and saw that empty sky." "Empty sky? What empty sky? "From the asteroid." He escorted me to his office. Somebody came in and took pictures. Lots of pictures. Most of them had me standing, looking up at the
Lantner
monument and the sky beyond. "You know," he said, "when the critical information comes from looking up and seeing
nothing
, it really doesn't work well for pictures." "I'll try to do better next time, Rob." "You should have brought Alex along," he said. "You didn't ask." "I didn't know we were looking at anything like this. I thought it was about corruption. I thought the bastards knew a major downturn was coming, and they were in collusion with-" He stopped and stared at me. "Never mind. I've got a few questions for you." "What kind of reaction is the Administrator getting?" "Right now," he said, "they want to hang him." "I'm sorry to hear it." "He deserves what he gets. He stood by and let his friends run things. As long as you were loyal to the bastard, you couldn't do anything wrong. Anyhow, I wouldn't be surprised if he was privy to it from the