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encountered before in the entire history of the human race.
Heavens . . .
we're talking about aliens from another star system! . . .
We know absolutely nothing of their background, psychology, disposition,
values, ethics, if they have any or anything about them."
"You think Weinerbaum and his people could be walking into something?"
Abaquaan asked. It didn't really need confirming.
"He's deluding himself, I know it probably with some notion of commonality of
intellect rising above origins," Zambendorf said. "Yet he monopolizes the
resources while we have to creep about in the dark, launching robots in
bathtubs down conveyor lines to try and find out what's going on. Insanity is
the only word for it. We could be letting ourselves in for anything out here.
Sitting ducks, Otto, and they can't even see it. Sitting ducks."
* * *
Zambendorf's apprehensions turned out to have come not a moment too soon. When
they got back to Genoa Base after calling for a NASO bus to pick them up from
Camelot, reports were already coming in over the Earthlink of major
disruptions suddenly affecting military command and communications networks
and NASO's logistics and launch-management systems, in particular the ones
handling the
Orion turnaround. Some of the harassed project managers were already saying
that the ship's liftout date from Earth might have to be put back.
In the communications room Zambendorf groaned as he listened to as much as
could be put together of the details. Things like this didn't just "happen."
The aliens had somehow already penetrated
Earth itself. Then one of the technicians let slip a comment about a
direct-access trunk link that had just been run out to Experimental Station 3.
Which was as much as needed to be said about how the aliens had done it.
29
With Fellburg and Abaquaan doing all they could to keep up, Zambendorf stormed
into the secretarial section in front of the part of Genoa Base where
Weinerbaum and his people worked.
"
Where is he?
" Zambendorf bellowed.
The head records clerk, a lean, pinched-faced man named Jessop who always
acted as if he were the sole custodian of the database of the National Academy
of Sciences, rose, puffing indignantly while at the same time struggling to
preserve his air of disdain. "Are you referring to Dr. Weinerbaum?"
"Of course I am. Who else could have talked them into it? Where is he here or
out at ES3?"
"He is in his office currently, but I'm afraid " But Zambendorf was already
heading for the doorway leading through to the inner sanctum. Jessop stepped
forward to block the way, raising his hands restrainingly. "
Excuse me, but " Joe Fellburg lifted him effortlessly by the armpits and
deposited him to one side, spluttering and protesting.
They found Weinerbaum in one of the lab bays, standing with some of his senior
scientists before a whiteboard covered with mathematical expressions. One of
the charts on the surrounding wall was divided into about a dozen columns, the
first headed "Cyril" and the rest with an assortment of other names. Entries
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
such as "Comp sci?" "Peter's sister," "With org'n that sent spacecraft," and
"Astronomer"
appeared in the spaces beneath. Another board listed what were evidently the
basic properties of a planet.
"What the hell have you done?" Zambendorf demanded.
Weinerbaum had had a moment to prepare himself when he heard the commotion
outside. He turned regally, still with a marker pen in one hand, feigning mild
amusement as a demonstration to his entourage of how to deal with a pestering
clown.
"My word. A tantrum, I do believe. Surely you're not asking me
! Don't tell me your psychic powers have failed you, Herr Zambendorf." One of
the scientists snickered. Weinerbaum's expression hardened. "I think you're
getting a bit above yourself," he told Zambendorf. "Don't let the fact that
I've chosen to be tolerant lead you into any mistaken presumptuousness about
where we stand. We are engaged in some rather important scientific business at
the moment. I suggest that you leave us to get on with it and save your
energies for attending to yours."
"When all of Earth is affected, it is my business!" Zambendorf exploded. "It's
everyone's business!"
"All of Earth? What preposterous nonsense "
Jessop appeared in the doorway through which Zambendorf and the others had
entered. "I tried to stop them, Dr. Weinerbaum, but I was physically
assailed." He pointed a quivering finger at Fellburg. "
Him!
"
Weinerbaum nodded curtly. "I'm sure you did your best, Jessop. Thank you, but
we'll take care of it now." He directed a withering look back at Zambendorf.
"Now, what is the meaning of this? Bursting in here like hoodlums and
assaulting my staff. Interrupting important scientific work. Pushing your nose
into matters that you have neither the background nor the qualifications to
understand, whatever your worthless publicity propaganda says." The vitriol
gushed freely; Weinerbaum had been waiting a long time to say this. "You are
completely out of order and have no authorization to be in this part of the
base. Kindly remove yourself and your associates immediately or I'll have the
guard commander called to remove you forcibly."
Zambendorf swept it all aside with an impatient wave. "Why don't you be
straight for once instead of playing at politics and meddling in things that
you don't understand?" he retorted. "Very well, if you're going to insist on
acting as if you don't know what I'm talking about, then I'll say it for you."
Zambendorf motioned briefly at the charts on the wall. "You've discovered
electronically preserved representations, inside the machines here on Titan,
of the aliens from a million years ago who started this whole thing off [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]