"What are those other two object that appeared first? The smaller ones. Have you established that?"
"Unfortunately not, Excellency."
"They aren't probes from the Shapieron again, like that one you said was right behind us?"
"No, they are something else. They appear to be of unfamiliar design and purpose."
Broghuilio scowled. The probe had provided the eyes and intelligence for the Shapieron when it was pursuing them. "I don't like it." He called to the ship's captain, who had been obtaining confirmatory readings from one of the other ships. "Bring your secondary laser batteries to firing readiness and keep them trained on those things. Also, have all ships brought up to flight standby." The captain passed on the orders.
"Can I ask our plan, Excellency?" Estordu inquired.
"We have no indication that they are aware of our presence down here. And there is no reason to alert them to it," Broghuilio answered. "We wait."
"It's too close." Eesyan shook his head. "We need to be a few more days further back."
"Call Thurien via the beacon for a correction," Shilohin, the Shapieron's female scientific chief said. "Can VISAR can pitch it finely enough if we're this near?"
"It should be able to," Eesyan answered.
"ZORAC," Garuth called. "Call-"
"No!"
Surprised heads turned toward Frenua Showm.
"No," she said again, and looked around imploringly. "Think what you are saying." She half turned toward the screen next to which Hunt, Danchekker, and Chien were still standing. They had just caught the end of Harzin and Perasmon's address. The two leaders had announced that Perasmon would be returning with Harzin in the Cerian presidential aircraft, and they were already disappearing back inside the doors at the rear of the balcony from where they had been speaking. Some of those who had been with them were following, while another in a uniform had stepped forward and was delivering some closing words. Showm went on, "There's a world full of people down there who have just been given the first hope they've known for years. Real, warm, alive, flesh-and-blood people, like us. They have homes, children, loves, dreams. But we know, you and I know, because we've been in their future, and we've seen the horrors that are in store for them… all the way through to the militarized nightmare that their world will turn into, and its final total destruction. And you're saying that we just call Thurien and go home, and let it happen! How could we, after the things we've seen? The rotting corpses; the lame, the blind, the crippled; the burning cities. How could any of us sleep easily again?"
"We're too close. There isn't enough time-" Eesyan started to say again.
"There is enough time! So Perasmon and Harzin are flying today. How long does a journey halfway around Minerva take with an aircraft of their period? Four hours? Five? We know the plane won't be destroyed until it's approaching the Cerian coast. A missile from something flying at high altitude. The plane's electronics officer even caught it coming in on radar just before it hit. Never mind the spectacular landing and public theatrics that the mission strategy talks about. All we've got to do is access somebody high enough in the chain to divert the flight. The explanations can come later."
"Would we be able to convince them in time?" Duncan Watt asked dubiously. "They have no idea who we are."
"We have several hours," Showm insisted. "Put me on and let me talk to them. A Ganymean. One of the Giants who inhabited Minerva in the distant past. Don't you think that would get their attention?"
Danchekker was shaking his head, at the same time showing his teeth, as if looking for a way to put something delicate without offending. "What you say is true, of course, Frenua. It's all most distressing. But even were we to succeed, it's still merely one infinitesimal sliver in a totality of unimaginable immensity…"
"It's a world of people. Living, thinking, feeling, people."
Hunt pinched his eyebrows together with his thumb and fingers. Danchekker was right, of course. What Danchekker might also have been trying to remind Showm of but wasn't saying was that the future of this world was fixed anyway. Nothing could change it, anymore than a past that had already happened-which of course was what it was. What the mission could hope to achieve, what the physicists and philosophers were still arguing over, was whether an action initiated across the Multiverse would give rise to a new future that had not existed previously. But emotions were running high, and he wasn't about to get into it.
"Whatever we do, I suggest we get on with it," Chien said. "They could be on their way to the airport already."
Although Eesyan was technically in charge of the mission until they made contact with the Lunarians, he inclined his head to concede Showm the floor. "Garuth," she said, "Can you get us a connection? We need the Lambian government system in Melthis-whichever department is the most closely involved in Perasmon's affairs. The best place to start would probably be the Agracon."
The white phone beeped on the desk of Vazquin, the head of the translation section. That was the Agracon's internal system, not connected to the outside. Vazquin was away from his desk at the moment. Laisha turned in her chair and took it. "Cerian translators. Laisha Engs speaking."
"This is Farissio. I'm in the communications room in the main building. We need a translator here. Can you get over immediately?" Farissio was a senior negotiator with the Cerian delegation. He sounded strained.
"Well, yes, of course. What-"
"Just do it, please." Another voice in the background, clipped and harsh, said something that Laisha didn't catch. Farrissio hung up. Mystified, Laisha threw a pen and notebook into the bag that she carried for office chores. The translators' offices were located in one of the peripheral buildings at the rear of the Agracon complex, outside the secure zone that included the main building. To get to the communications room she would need to check in at the guard desk and get a Lambian escort. She made sure that she had her ID and clearance papers, and hurried for the door, followed by one or two curious looks.
Downstairs, Laisha exited through a side door that she had learned led to a short cut, and followed a narrow alleyway along the rear of the VIP transportation garage to a path leading to one of the access roads. Something about the atmosphere of the whole place had changed. Although there was no outward noise or fuss, Lambian soldiers were everywhere, moving swiftly and purposefully. Sudden misgivings seized her that something had gone terribly wrong.
Another alley brought her to a side door of the restaurant and staff cafeteria. Cutting through to the main entrance would bring her out opposite one of the guard posts into the secure zone. She had just entered the building and was following the corridor past the kitchens toward the dining areas, when Mera Dukrees, one of the delegation's technical specialists, came hurrying toward her, apparently taking the same route in the opposite direction. He looked distraught, casting anxious glances back.
"What is it?" Laisha asked.
"I'm not sure. There's some sort of takeover going on. Soldiers herding people around. They've got the whole place sealed off in there."
"How did you get out?"
"An argument broke out at the gate just as I got there. I slipped through. I think it might be a move to overthrow Perasmon." Raised voices and shouts of protest sounded inside the building from the direction of the dining areas. Dukrees gripped Laisha's arm to keep her attention. "But don't you see what it means? If that's what's happening, this is only a part of it. That plane isn't going to get there!"
Laisha shook her head and brought a hand up to her mouth. "Oh no!"
"Were there soldiers back at the offices when you left?" Dukrees asked her.
"They were around outside, but nobody had come in yet."
"There might still be a chance to get word out. Communications from inside the secure zoneare all blocked. Come on."
A short passage off the corridor where they had met led to rest rooms and some stairs. On the wall in a recess by foot of the stairs, Laisha spotted one of the white internal phones. "There's no sense in both of us getting stopped," she said. "You go ahead. I'll try from there." She pointed. Dukrees looked, nodded curtly, and hurried away. Laisha went to the phone and hammered in the number for the press office behind the translators' room. At least, in the side passage she was out of sight from along the corridor. She wasn't even sure what she planned on asking anyone to do.
Ri-ing. Ri-ing. "Oh please, please…"
"Cerian Press Office."
"Uthelia, is that you?"
"Yes. Who's this?"
"Laisha. Look, there isn't time to explain. That line you had to that person at NEBA in Osserbruk earlier. Is it still open?"
"It should be. Why-"
"I need you to call him again. His name is Wus Wosi."
"Really, all this is most irregular, you-"
"Uthelia, shut up! There isn't time for that! Just call him!"
Laisha's tone was enough. "What do you want me to say?" Uthelia asked, sounding shaken.
Voices sounded at the end of the corridor from the dining areas. "Get three men over here. Check down there. Secure all outside doors."
Laisha forced herself to speak slowly and clearly. "Listen very carefully. There is a Lieutenant Klesimur Bosoros, at a Cerian army base. Wus knows how to contact him. The president's plane is in some kind of danger-I'm not sure exactly what. Bosoros needs to get the message to Cerian High Command." A warning via the military, originating from the Agracon in Melthis, seemed more likely to get attention than an allegation by someone at the NEBA news bureau.
"Are you serious?"
"There's some kind of coup going on. They'll be over there any moment, Uthelia. Just do it."
"Wus Wosi at NEBA. Lieutenant Klesimur… Bosoros?"
"Right."
"You! Phone. No!" The Lambian trooper barked in broken Cerian, at the same time motioning menacingly with his rifle but not pointing it.
"It's okay. I speak Lambian," Laisha said as she replaced the handset.
"Who were you talking to?" an NCO demanded, appearing behind the trooper.
"It's the internal house line. I'm a translator with the Cerian delegation. I was called to the communications room, but I lost the way. I was trying to call for directions."
The Lambian NCO peered at her badge. "Your clearance?" Laisha produced the papers from her bag and waited nervously. "Come with me. I will take you to the security gate out front. You two, carry on."
"Sir."
Laisha emerged with the NCO from the passage just in time to see Mera Dukrees being led back in through the outside door at the far end of the corridor.