The formality took a moment; Kennedy was given the floor. He rose in his place at Flaherty’s left, nudging the chair back clumsily. His throat felt dry. His hands, which rested on a considerable parcel, were trembling.
He stumbled his way through the prescribed salutation. The delegates were staring at him, some with curiosity, some in boredom. In the glare of the lights he managed to pick out the thick coarse face of Bullard, the Corporation’s first-level man. Bullard was leaning forward; his eyes seemed to have attained demonic intensity.
Kennedy said, “These papers I hold here give documentary proof of the most wide-scale hoax ever perpetrated in modern history. But before I distribute photostatic copies to you and let you judge for yourselves, let me briefly state my qualifications for the task I now undertake, and a summary of the charges I intend to make against the Extraterrestrial Development and Exploration Corporation.
“I have been on Ganymede from July fifth to thirtieth of this year. I have seen the planet with my own eyes. I have also helped in the fabrication of this hoax.
“Point One: The Corporation is willfully deceiving the people of the world, making use of the Steward Dinoli agency as its means.
“Point Two: There is not and never has been a colony of men and women on Ganymede. There is a Corporation outpost which conisted of sixteen men in Corporation employ at the time I was there.
“Point Three: The natives of Ganymede are opposed to the exploitation of their world by the Corporation or by any other Earth people, and have declared this repeatedly to the members of the outpost there.
“Point Four: The Corporation, realizing that the natives of Ganymede do not wish their continued occupation of the planet to endure, have come to the decision that a full-scale war against the intransigent Ganymedeans will be necessary in order to subdue the planet and place it fully in their control. Not even the vast resources of the Corporation are equal to the task of waging this war, nor do they want to dissipate their capital and tie up men in what quite possibly would be a guerrilla campaign of great intensity.
“Point Five: Knowing these things, the Corporation engaged the agency for which I formerly worked, charging them with the task of so manipulating and controlling the sources of news that the true nature of events on Ganymede would be concealed and that the United Nations could ultimately be induced to carry out an armed intervention in the Corporation’s behalf on Ganymede. This campaign has been highly successful. I regret to confess that it was I who originated the central concept of a fictitious colony on Ganymede which would engage the sympathies of the people of Earth—a colony which is scheduled for a fraudulent annihilation on October eleventh to serve as provocation for a Corporation request for intervention by United Nations forces.”
Kennedy paused. He had spoken carefully and clearly, and as he looked around he saw a triple ring of shocked and unbelieving faces. They were starting to mutter; a moment more and there might even be jeers. But he was a master of his trade, and he had timed his speech carefully.
“Perhaps you feel that these charges of mine are the nightmares of a paranoiac, despite the fact that Ambassador Flaherty has given me his seal of approval. But I have prepared photostatic copies of documents which demonstrate amply the shrewd and calculating way in which the Corporation and my agency went about the business of hoodwinking an entire world. Members of the American delegation will now pass among you distributing them.”
He had waited just a moment too long. A fierce-looking delegate in bright velvet robes stood up and shouted in crisp British tones, “This is an outrage, and I protest! How can such arrant nonsense be tolerated in this hall? How can—”
Kennedy ignored him. He was staring, instead, at Builard—Bullard, whose face had grown increasingly more contorted during his speech; Bullard, who had listened in anger to the destruction of the Corporation’s plans; Bullard, who sat quivering with rage, shaking with the impact of each of Kennedy’s statements—
It was too late for Kennedy to duck. He could only stand and wait as he felt the bullet crash into his shoulder and heard an instant later the strange little pop of Bullard’s weapon; then the force of the shot knocked him backward, and as he fell he saw Security men swarming down over the struggling Bullard and heard the loud bewildered shouts of the delegates—delegates who in that moment had had all reality snatched from them, who now confronted the naked core of lies that had been cloaked so long.
20
Dizzily, Kennedy attempted to rise.
He lay sprawled behind his chair, ignored for a moment in the general confusion. His shoulder seemed to be burning.
He put one hand on the edge of the table and hoisted himself up. He knew Marge was in the gallery somewhere and he didn’t want her to worry. Delegates milled about in confusion; Hermanos was pounding the gavel and roaring for order. A flock of Security men surrounded Bullard and were dragging the Corporation man away; Bullard was white-faced with rage. Probably rage at having missed me, Kennedy thought.
A quiet voice said, “Are you all right?” The voice belonged to Ambassador Flaherty.
“I think so,” Kennedy said. His shoulder throbbed painfully. He glanced at it; the jacket had a round little hole in it, singed a bit about the edges, but he did not seem to be bleeding.
But suddenly he felt weak. His wobbly legs gave way and he groped for the nearest seat and sank into it. He saw the delegation aides moving down the aisles, distributing his photostats. A hum of light conversation replaced the previous agitated buzz.
Flaherty was speaking again.
“In view of the sudden attack upon Mr. Kennedy by the Corporation executive present here, I think we cannot hesitate to take action today. The shot fired at Mr. Kennedy was a tacit admission of guilt.
“I call, therefore, for a full investigation of the relationship between the Extraterrestrial Development and Exploration Corporation and Steward and Dinoli. I ask, furthermore, that the charter of the Corporation be temporarily suspended pending full investigation, and that we consider possible ways and means of establishing direct United Nations control over space travel and interplanetary colonization, in view of the highly probable event that Mr. Kennedy’s evidence will prove authentic.”
Kennedy smiled despite the pain. What did a bullet in the shoulder matter, more or less, as the price for what he had done?
He turned to Flaherty and started to say something. Before he could get the first word out, though, a wave of pain rippled over him, and he struggled unsuccessfully to hold on to consciousness.
For the next few moments he heard dim voices speaking somewhere above him; then he was aware that someone was lifting him. He blanked again.
When he woke he was on a plump leatheroid couch in the inner office of Ambassador Flaherty. His jacket and his bloodstained shirt lay over the back of a nearby chair. He saw three or four people bending anxiously over him as he opened his eyes.
“Ah. He is awake.” A pale man in medical uniform bent over him, nodding. “I am Dr. Marquis of the United Nations Medical Staff. The bullet has been removed, Mr. Kennedy. It caused trifling damage. A few days’ rest until the soreness leaves, and you’ll be all right again.”
“Glad to hear it.”
He craned his neck until he saw Flaherty. “Well? What did I miss?”
“Plenty. Things have been popping all day. The Security men paid a visit to agency headquarters and impounded enough evidence to send your former boss and his friends to the psych-squad. Bullard’s in custody here for the attempt on your life. Security forces have taken positions around all Corporation buildings now, to head off the riots.”