"Well, I..."
"Now! Tweed's life depends on this. Don't make us doubt what you're saying."
"I speak to him in code, through a laser that is relayed to Luna by a satellite, so the signal will not be traced. The lagtime will be ninety-seven minutes today, because of that. He carries a prompter; it has never taken me longer than three minutes to get to him."
"Very well. It's bargaining time. Cathay and I are interested in the fate of the people under your guard. We realize that you are capable, if ordered to do it, of killing them. Tweed might order you to do that, we decided." Lilo found it hard to believe, but admitted that Cathay knew more about Tweed and Vaffa than she did.
"We want you to tell the Boss that would be a very stupid thing to do.
"We're going to broadcast the facts about the Poseidon installation all over the system. If they catch him, they'll kill him.
"The important thing to him is when we do this broadcasting. Now listen carefully. If he does as we tell him, we will hold off for a period of one standard month. Obviously, it's not in our interest to publicize this place. We don't want it known what's going on out here because we're all illegals in one way or another, including you. If an Eight Worlds ship lands on Poseidon, we'll all be executed.
"What we have to do is work toward our common interests. We need time, and so does Tweed. But we also need assurances that the people down there will not be massacred." She took a deep breath.
"Here's the deal. Tweed is to issue orders to you, and all your clone brothers and sisters, to leave the station and congregate in the open one kilometer from the nearest entrance. Unarmed. Before you leave, you are to deactivate the barrier leading to your private quarters and allow Niobe and Vejay to enter and see for themselves that no one is still inside. After that—"
"I've just learned that Vejay is unaccounted for," the man said. "Apparently he is buried. Niobe is here."
"All right. After Niobe has entered your quarters and seen you depart from the station, she will tell us so. We will then land and take you prisoner. Tweed is to further order you, in the hearing of Niobe and anyone else she wants with her, that you are not to harm anyone, now or in the future.
"In return for this, you and your clones will be allowed to live, as long as you stick to your orders. Tweed will be given one month to get away from Luna, to do whatever he planned to do to get underground if he was discovered."
"How do we know you'll keep your word about not killing us?" Vaffa said. For the first time, he sounded worried, and Cathay slapped Lilo on the shoulder. Lilo grinned back at him.
"Obviously you can't be sure. You'll have to take my word for it. But your alternative is certain death, if an Eight Worlds ship is brought here in response to what we have to say, or if you harm the prisoners. Understand, we will broadcast if we have to. If Tweed won't accept our terms, it means all the people down there will be killed by you, anyway, so there's nothing for us to lose. This way you have a chance to live, too.
"Tweed's alternative is simple, too. He has exactly one hundred and fifteen minutes from right now to comply with our demands. If we don't hear from Niobe in that time, we start talking."
"We're calling him," Vaffa said. "I have only one more question. How do I know you're telling the truth about knocking Poseidon out of its orbit? How could I tell that?"
"Uh... I guess I can't prove it's not a bluff. But it doesn't change anything. The broadcast goes out in one hundred and fourteen minutes."
"Very well." There was a pause. "I suspect you're telling the truth about that. It was quite a jolt."
Lilo sat back again. She was sweating. She looked at Cathay, found herself hoping for his approval.
"How'd I do?"
"I thought it was pretty good," he said. It was sinking in on him now that they were really committed. His son was down there, out of his reach, dependent on Tweed's decision. "What if he does something else? I almost wish we hadn't done it. It's... it's such a responsibility."
Lilo reached over and touched him, gently. She knew she didn't have as much at stake as he did, and yet it was very important to her that the trick work. Her initial dislike of Cathay had faded as she came around to his way of thinking, as his interests began to coincide more easily with hers. On the trip from Saturn, they had grown close. She was anxious to meet his son, who was supposed to have been her clone's best friend. She hoped she would get the chance.
"What can he do?" she said. "We've gone over it a million times."
"I know. I just get scared he's got some trick."
"Look. When Tweed gets the message from Vaffa, he's got two hours. A couple minutes to make up his mind, forty-eight minutes for his answer to get to us, then another forty-eight before our broadcast could reach Luna. He's a public figure. The police computers know where he is, because he's an assassination target. If he drops out of sight quickly, with no notice, the whole machinery will be looking for him in sixty seconds."
"But he must have prepared something. He knew I'm out here, with a radio, and could blow the whistle on him anytime."
"But he knew you wouldn't. He felt safe enough about that, because if you did, it would kill your son."
Cathay was shaking now, and Lilo stroked his shoulder. The control cabin of the tug was too cramped for them to even turn to face each other, but she managed to kiss his cheek.
"Tweed doesn't have a choice," Lilo said. "If he doesn't do what we told him to, he'll have only two hours to get so far underground that the kind of massive search we could stir up won't be able to find him. I just don't think he can do that."
"But could we really broadcast?" Cathay was in increasing agony now. It was going to be a long two hours.
Lilo said nothing. The choices were really out of their control now; had been since Vengeance smashed in. If they didn't get confirmation from Niobe in two hours it would mean that things too ghastly to think about were happening on Poseidon.
And then they damn well would broadcast.
Tweed was a familiar figure in the public ways of King City, and he had always loved it. The sight of him lumbering down Clarke Boulevard was beloved by most of his former constituents. Some days he would waddle aimlessly and amiably, pressing the flesh, with a smile and a pat on the back for all.
But the love of the people sometimes had to be kept at arm's length. One had to hobnob to keep winning mandates at the polls. On the other hand, there were times when it was necessary to move freely without being mobbed. His hat was the signal. If it was in his hand, they could feel free to talk to him. When he was wearing it, it was understood that he was busy on the people's business.
Hat firmly on his head, Boss Tweed pounded down the center of the corridor, implacable as a rhinoceros, spouting blue clouds of smoke from his cigar.
He turned corners with the ponderous grace of a tugboat, gradually working his way into less frequented parts of the city. There was an anonymous door at the end of a deserted stretch of corridor. It opened to his palmprint; he stepped into a small room and sealed the door behind him. At the press of a button, the room began a slow descent.
Off came the black and gray coat, the baggy pants, the shoes of hardened leather, the white spats. Soon he stood naked in front of a pile of clothes. Without his shoes he was nine centimeters shorter, but he was still a big man.