Abbott nodded wordlessly.
“Very well, then,” Millard said, with just the hint of a grin touching his lips. “It’ll do me good to get away from the office for a while. I should be able to reach Uranus within a week.”
Within a week, Abbott echoed in his mind. When the IC’s executive director wants to go someplace, he has one of the commission’s private ships at his beck and call.
I’ll have to tell Reverend Umber about this right away, Abbott thought. And Waxman. We’ve got to—
Millard interrupted his thoughts. “My people will fill you in on my schedule, Gordon. See you in a week or so.”
The wall screen went blank.
Well, Abbott said to himself, he’s not one to waste words.
Kyle Umber was sitting up on his hospital bed. The bandage that had covered his left cheek was gone, replaced by a translucent covering that clearly showed the scar running from his temple to his jaw.
“Harvey Millard is coming here?” he asked.
Standing at the reverend’s bedside, Gordon Abbott nodded vigorously. “He’s already on his way.”
“Because of this discovery that Gomez and Zworkyn made?”
“Yes.”
“Is he bringing many people with him?” Umber asked. “Will we have enough space to house them all?”
Abbott replied, “Knowing Millard, he’s probably coming alone, or with one or two aides, at most.”
“We can accommodate them on Haven II then.”
“I should think so.”
“Good.”
“He’s scheduled to arrive the day after tomorrow.”
“I’ll have to get up from this bed to greet him.”
Abbott held himself back from shaking his head. “Millard isn’t a great one for formalities.”
“Still… he’s the Interplanetary Council’s executive director.”
“True enough.” Abbott took a step back from the bedside and turned to leave.
But Umber stopped him with, “This discovery that Gomez has made, what does it mean, Gordon?”
Abbott paused and turned back to face the minister. “It might mean that our solar system was visited by an intelligent alien race some two million years ago.”
“An intelligent alien race,” Umber repeated.
“And they sterilized Uranus. Completely sterilized the entire planet.”
“My God.”
“That’s what Gomez thinks.”
“Do you believe it?”
Abbott shrugged wearily. “It’s an outlandish hypothesis, on the face of it. But it accounts for the facts that we’ve uncovered.”
“My God,” Umber repeated.
HARVEY MILLARD
The trip to Uranus should have seemed like a vacation to Harvey Millard. He was away from his office; underlings were handling the niggling details of the day-to-day affairs of the Interplanetary Council. But he realized that he was heading into a new problem, a question that might well involve the future of the entire human race.
As he stood in the otherwise empty observation blister of the spaceship Icarus racing out to Uranus, he stared at the universe of stars emblazoned across the black infinity while the enormity of the situation weighed on his slim shoulders.
All life on Uranus was wiped out, extinguished some two million years ago. How? By alien invaders? The idea was preposterous on the face of it.
But is it right? He remembered a bit of wisdom from his university days: Just because an idea sounds crazy doesn’t mean it’s wrong.
But is it right?
Millard shuddered in the chilly emptiness of the observation blister. Could there be an alien race out there that sterilized Uranus? How? More important: Why?
Will they return? Will they want to drive us into extinction?
He stared out at the stars. And found no answer.
Evan Waxman sat in his office, unconsciously counting the minutes he had left to live.
I can’t stay here on Haven, he told himself for the thousandth time. Umber will force me to leave. To go where? Back to Earth? Dacco and his bosses will want me dead. Returning to Earth will be a death sentence. Even Mars or the research stations orbiting Jupiter and Saturn won’t be safe for me.
Maybe I should just kill myself and get it over with.
But he didn’t move, couldn’t move, could not force his hands to open the desk drawer and pull out the vial of Rust he had cached in it.
It won’t be a bad way to go, he thought. Drug overdose. You’ll be floating on a cloud when the end comes.
Still, he could not force his hands to open the desk drawer.
Raven opened her eyes slowly. Tómas was already up and dressed, she saw: a steel-gray tunic over darker slacks. He looked handsome, she thought. His face so serious, so intense.
As he stood before the mirror, smoothing down the tunic he had just put on, he noticed her stirring in the bed. And smiled.
“Good morning.”
“You’re up early,” Raven said.
“You’ve slept late,” he answered.
In a mock-accusative tone, Raven replied, “You kept me up half the night.”
A wide grin flashed across Tómas’s face. “I could say the same about you.”
Raven tossed a pillow at him.
He stepped to the bed, bent over and kissed her.
“I’ve got to go,” Tómas said, almost apologetically. “The IC’s executive director will be arriving tomorrow, and we’ve got to be prepared to show him our findings.”
Raven nodded. “I suppose I should open the boutique. It’s been shut since the riot.”
“You’ll need help, won’t you?”
“I’ll find somebody.”
“Sure. Good luck.”
“Same to you, Tómas,” said Raven.
He went to the bedroom door, turned and blew her a kiss, then departed. Raven sat on the rumpled bed, telling herself she should get up and start the day. Yet she didn’t move.
The phone buzzed. “Phone answer,” she called out.
Reverend Umber’s round, slightly pinkish face appeared on the screen. Raven pulled the bedclothes up to her armpits. Then she noticed that the left side of the minister’s face was covered by a translucent bandage.
“Raven…” He hesitated.
“Yes, Reverend,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
Umber was silent for a moment, then he answered, “I need your help.”
Raven showered and dressed quickly, then hurried to Umber’s office. The minister was alone amidst the ornate furniture and decorations, sitting at his desk, looking somewhere between worried and expectant. A livid scar ran down one side of his face. Raven tried to keep from staring at it.
As soon as she took one of the chairs in front of his desk, Umber said, “I need an assistant.”
“An assistant?”
“The executive director of the Interplanetary Council will arrive here tomorrow, and I need someone to help me with the arrangements… and the agenda for our meeting.”
“Isn’t that what Mr. Waxman does for you?” she asked.
“Evan has resigned,” Umber said. Then he amended, “Actually, I expect him to resign. I’m sure he’s going to.”
“But I’m not trained to do his job,” Raven protested. “I don’t know a fraction of what he knows about how to run your office.”
“You can learn,” said Umber, his face dead serious. “And you have one important trait that I find indispensable.”
“Indispensable?”
“I can trust you.”
ARRIVAL
Harvey Millard sat in the bridge of the Icarus, the Interplanetary Council ship that had carried him from Earth orbit to the twin habitats orbiting Uranus. He watched as the ship’s six-person crew went through the final moments of countdown to the berthing at the orbiting station.