Charlie jumped down off the chair and came around to hold the picture up. She seemed proud of it, and she had every right to be. Here at last was visual proof that Charlie was not what she seemed to be. No eight-year-old could have drawn this fine pencil portrait of a Sheltie.
"This is for Anna," she said.
"That's very nice, Charlie," Galloway said. "I'd like one, too."
"I'll draw you one!" Charlie said happily... and ran out of the picture.
There was angry shouting for a few moments. Galloway stood her ground, explaining that she had only been trying to cement the friendship, and how was she to know Charlie would run off like that?
Even Hoeffer was emboldened enough to take a few shots, pointing out—logically, in Bach's opinion—that time was running out and if anything was to be done about her situation every second was valuable.
"All right, all right, so I made a mistake. I promise I'll be more careful next time. Anna, I hope you'll call me when she comes back." And with that, she picked up her cane and trudged from the room.
Bach was surprised. It didn't seem like Galloway to leave the story before it was over, even if nothing was happening. But she was too tired to worry about it. She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and was asleep in less than a minute.
Charlie was hard at work on the picture for Megan when Tik-Tok interrupted her. She looked up in annoyance.
"Can't you see I'm busy?"
"I'm sorry, but this can't wait. There's a telephone call for you."
"There's a... what?"
But Tik-Tok said no more. Charlie went across the room to the phone, silent these thirty years. She eyed it suspiciously, then pressed the button. As she did, dim memories flooded through her. She saw her mother's face. For the first time, she felt like crying.
"This is Charlotte Perkins-Smith," she said, in a childish voice. "My mother isn't... my mother... may I ask who's calling, please?"
There was no picture on the screen, but after a short pause, there was a familiar voice.
"This is Megan Galloway, Charlie. Can we talk?"
When Steiner shook Bach's shoulder, she opened her eyes to see Charlie sitting on the desk once more. Taking a quick sip of the hot coffee Steiner had brought, she tried to wipe the cobwebs from her mind and get back to work. The girl was just sitting there, hands folded once more.
"Hello, Anna," the girl said. "I just wanted to call and tell you I'll do whatever you people think is best. I've been acting silly. I hope you'll forgive me; it's been a long time since I had to talk to other people."
"That's okay, Charlie."
"I'm sorry I pissed on Captain Hoeffer. Tik-Tok said that was a bad thing to do, and that I ought to be more respectful to him, since he's the guy in charge. So if you'll get him, I'll do whatever he says."
"All right, Charlie. I'll get him."
Bach got up and watched Hoeffer take her chair.
"You'll be talking just to me from now on," he said, with what he must have felt was a friendly smile. "Is that all right?"
"Sure," Charlie said, indifferently.
"You can go get some rest now, Corporal Bach," Hoeffer said. She saluted, and turned on her heel.
She knew it wasn't fair to Charlie to feel betrayed, but she couldn't help it. True, she hadn't talked to the girl all that long. There was no reason to feel a friendship had developed. But she felt sick watching Hoeffer talk to her. The man would lie to her, she was sure of that.
But then, could she have done any different? It was a disturbing thought. The fact was, there had as yet been no orders on what to do about Charlie. She was all over the news, the public debate had begun, and Bach knew it would be another day before public officials had taken enough soundings to know which way they should leap. In the meantime, they had Charlie's cooperation, and that was good news.
Bach wished she could be happier about it.
"Anna, there's a phone call for you."
She took it at one of the vacant consoles. When she pushed the Talk button, a light came on, indicating the other party wanted privacy, so she picked up the handset and asked who was calling.
"Anna," said Galloway, "come at once to room 569 in the Pension Kleist. That's four corridors from the main entrance to NavTrack, level—"
"I can find it. What's this all about? You got your story."
"I'll tell you when you get there."
The first person Bach saw in the small room was Ludmilla Rossnikova, the computer expert from GMA. She was sitting in a chair across the room, looking uncomfortable. Bach shut the door behind her, and saw Galloway sprawled in another chair before a table littered with electronic gear.
"I felt I had to speak to Tik-Tok privately," Galloway began, without preamble. She looked about as tired as Bach felt.
"Is that why you sent Charlie away?"
Galloway gave her a truly feral grin, and for a moment did not look tired at all. Bach realized she loved this sort of intrigue, loved playing fast and loose, taking chances.
"That's right. I figured Ms. Rossnikova was the woman to get me through, so now she's working for me."
Bach was impressed. It would not have been cheap to hire Rossnikova away from GMA. She would not have thought it possible.
"GMA doesn't know that, and it won't know, if you can keep a secret," Galloway went on. "I assured Ludmilla that you could."
"You mean she's spying for you."
"Not at all. She's not going to be working against GMA's interests, which are quite minimal in this affair. We're just not going to tell them about her work for me, and next year Ludmilla will take early retirement and move into a dacha in Georgia she's coveted all her life."
Bach looked at Rossnikova, who seemed embarrassed. So everybody has her price, Bach thought. So what else is new?
"Turns out she had a special code which she withheld from the folks back at NavTrack. I suspected she might. I wanted to talk to him without anyone else knowing I was doing it. Your control room was a bit crowded for that. Ludmilla, you want to take it from there?"
She did, telling Bach the story in a low voice, with reserved, diffident gestures. Bach wondered if she would be able to live with her defection, decided she'd probably get over it soon enough.
Rossnikova had raised Charlie Station, which in this sense was synonymous with Tik-Tok, the station computer. Galloway had talked to him. She wanted to know what he knew. As she suspected, he was well aware of his own orbital dynamics. He knew he was going to crash into the moon. So what did he intend to do about Charlotte Perkins-Smith? Galloway wanted to know.
What are you offering? Tik-Tok responded.
"The important point is, he doesn't want Charlie to die. He can't do anything about his instruction to fire on intruders. But he claims he would have let Charlie go years ago but for one thing."
"Our quarantine probes," Bach said.
"Exactly. He's got a lifeboat in readiness. A few minutes from impact, if nothing has been resolved, he'll load Charlie in it and blast her away, after first killing both your probes. He knows it's not much of a chance, but impact on the lunar surface is no chance at all."
Bach finally sat down. She thought it over for a minute, then spread her hands.
"Great," she said. "It sounds like all our problems are solved. We'll just take this to Hoeffer, and we can call off the probes."
Galloway and Rossnikova were silent. As last, Galloway sighed.
"It may not be as simple as that."
Bach stood again, suddenly sure of what was coming next.
"I've got good sources, both in the news media and in city hall. Things are not looking good for Charlie."
"I can't believe it!" Bach shouted. "They're ready to let a little girl die? They're not even going to try to save her?"
Galloway made soothing motions, and Bach gradually calmed down.
"It's not definite yet. But the trend is there. For one thing, she is not a little girl, as you well know. I was counting on the public perception of her as a little girl, but that's not working out so well."