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 hehere 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 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 offand you've established communication with them. Not only that. Through NASO, you've given them direct access into Earthnet." Zambendorf shook his head incredulously. "On your own initiative, here, locally? With no recourse to higher authority? And now all kinds of problems are erupting. Yet you can stand there telling me that I'm out of order? . . . What kind of criminally insane irresponsibility is this?"
Weinerbaum was visibly shaken by the revelation of just how much Zambendorf knew. But he rallied himself quickly and responded with haughty unrepentance. "Higher authority? Which higher authority are you talking about? Surely you don't mean GSEC's bought hacks in Washington? You wouldn't want them in control, either, by your own admission. The military takes its orders from the same quarter. And the loyalties at NASO HQ are simply an unknown." Weinerbaum's manner became condescending, as if he were explaining a point of higher theoretical abstract-ness to an errant student. "Herr Zambendorf, I commend you on your little piece of espionage. But please try to grasp the significance of what we're dealing with. We are talking about the first-ever contact of our species with genuine extraterrestrials. It's far too big a matter to be left to the kinds of minds that have produced the political imbecilities that fill the pages of history, to military automatons, or to bureaucratic opportunists. It is an occasion that must be served by intellects sharing a commonality of interests that have transcended those kinds of jealousies and insecurities. The aliens understand it fully, and you may take my word for it that they speak with an accumulated wisdom that extends centuries beyond ours." Weinerbaum gestured to indicate the colleagues around him, modestly soaking up the reflected radiance. His voice fell to an appropriately grave concluding note. "That is why we had to do this in the way we did."
Zambendorf was horrified. It was everything he'd feared. He extended his hands imploringly. "No! Wrong! Can't you understand? Whatever other factors might come into it, the crux is that we're dealing with the descendants of a long line of survivorssurvivors like Homo sapiens on Earth. Whatever else these aliens might be, they are, before anything else, products of the same talent for pursuing and securing their own interests first. And exactly what are their interests?" Zambendorf sent a challenging look around the room. Nobody answered him. He nodded, having gained at least some satisfaction. "Nobody knows. Whose idea was it to give them the link?" He turned back to Weinerbaum. "Did you suggest it? I can't imagine why you would. So it must have been the aliens who requested it, right?"
Weinerbaum nodded stiffly, not taking at all well to being cross-examined in front of his own staff in this way. "Very well, yes, they did. What of it?"
Zambendorf groaned and shook his head. "Look, whatever their real reason, it wasn't to rapturize with fellow intellectuals about the final secrets of the universe. Haven't you heard the news coming through from Earth? Systems are starting to go down everywhere. These aliens have got their own agenda. And what we're seeing is only the start of it."
Weinerbaum thrust out his chin obstinately. "What would a mere entertainer know about intellectualism?" he scoffed. "All you seem capable of conceiving are the same paranoid suspicions as the other straitjacketed mentalities that have been the cause of all Earth's troubles since time immemorialand that continue to plague us today. These are things that the aliens have had to deal with in the course of their own social evolution and about which they and we are fully in sympathy."
Weinerbaum drew a long breath and straightened himself up. "Very well. Since it appears that we are not to be left in peace until you know, I will tell you. The purpose of our action in conjunction with the Asterians, as we call them, is purely and simply to delay the launch of the Orion and, if possible, to get the military expedition that is scheduled to return here with it canceled permanently. The object is to avoid Titan's being taken over by the political and commercial interests that would turn it into a manufacturing colony."
The sound of a tone announcing an incoming call came from somewhere nearby. A woman's voice answered. "Hello, this is Dr. Weinerbaum's laboratory . . ."
Weinerbaum continued. "That is what you yourself wanted, is it not, Herr Zambendorf? The only difference in our situations that I can see is that we have been able to do something more conducive to our common goal than is likely to be achieved by parlor tricks or puerile guessing games with numbers . . . and that is all. The Asterians will confine themselves strictly to that objective. I have their leader's personal assurance on it."
A woman appeared around a partition from the work area adjacent. She looked flustered. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Dr. Weinerbaum, but the base commander has just called. Something is locking out the trunk beam to Earth, and we can't regain control of it. Also, the Shirasagi has just got news via its link that the commercial ground stations into Japan are down, the Tokyo Stock Exchange has had to cease trading, and communications circuits westward into Asia are being disrupted. He asks if you would go to the communications room immediately."
But by that time the news coming in from Earth was almost an hour old. In his penthouse suite at the top of the GSEC headquarters building in New York, a bewildered Burton Ramelson was being deluged by reports of banking, manufacturing, transportation, administrative, and scientific systems collapsing everywhere. The global financial system was already in chaos, airlines were grounded, and whole telephone networks were seizing up. The entire global economy was suddenly confronting an escalating threat of total breakdown.
"What about the Orion?" he yelled at Warren Taylor, director of NASO's North American division, over a private, secure voice circuit that was still working to Washington. "Will the launch be put back much?"
"Put back?" Taylor's voice squawked. "Burton, you've got to be kidding! The way things are going, for the foreseeable future you can forget any notion of sending a military expeditionor anything elseanywhere. Period."
Ramelson was stunned. "But . . . what about developments on Titan?" he stammered.
Taylor snorted audibly over the line. "You can forget that, too. Until further notice, they're on their own out there."