Charles Sheffield - Starfire

“Quickly? If it would help, TIG can offer technical assistance in drafting an agreement.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, ma’am. And let me mention one other thing. If the federal lands in Nevada do get opened up for leasing, I guarantee there will be no further TIG opposition to this year’s budget. In fact, we will support it.” He was on his feet. “Madam President.” He inclined his head politely, then turned and walked out.

Celine glanced at the clock. Four thirty-eight. Eight minutes since he walked through the door. Glover had certainly come through on his promise not to take much time. All she needed now were his motives. What did he know that she didn’t?

She jotted another note to herself, Nevada?, and braced herself for the final appointment. She had never emerged from a meeting with her next visitor without feeling that she had been bested or manipulated — even in cases, like this one, where the meeting was held at her request. “Is Ms. Wheatstone here?”

“Not yet,” the autocom said. “Her appointment is scheduled for five o’clock, nineteen minutes from now.”

“Ask her to come in as soon as she arrives.”

She and Maddy Wheatstone had much in common. They were bright, ambitious, overachieving women, successful in what were still largely male pursuits. Celine was farther up the ladder, but she was quite a bit older. Maddy Wheatstone had plenty of time to go anywhere she chose, and she seemed to know exactly where she wanted to go.

Celine checked the crib sheets prepared by her staff for each meeting. Maddy had just celebrated her thirty-first birthday. At that age Celine had been a member of the first Mars expedition, with never a thought of politics. Space had filled her whole life. When she first heard of the space shield it had seemed like the project of her dreams.

Celine tilted back her padded chair and stared up at the ceiling. Far above her head, Sky City moved in its high-inclination synchronous orbit. She could visualize the looping figure-eight pattern that it followed relative to the surface of the Earth, and she knew exactly where to look in the sky to find it. Twenty years ago, when Sky City was no more than a skeleton frame and a set of ambitious plans, her own role had seemed clear. She would work on completing Sky City, then construct the space shield that would save the Earth.

The yearning was still there. So why was she down here on Earth? Even when you were President, it was no more than a desk job. She could offer only one answer: People change. What Celine needed and wanted at thirty and at sixty were not the same.

Would Maddy Wheatstone change, as Celine had? Was she, too, plagued by worries and self-doubts?

If so, she disguised it well. The Argos Group had a reputation. It took the brightest young people in the world and rewarded them generously, but it worked them so hard that they burned out fast. After an average of two years, the new recruits had taken all they could stand. They left the organization and took their pick of jobs elsewhere — often with Argos clients.

Maddy Wheatstone had worked inside that crucible for nine years. Celine had observed her through five of them. In Maddy’s case, heat and pressure had not destroyed. They seemed only to strengthen and harden.

Celine heard the sound of the door sliding open and tilted her chair back to its upright position. Maddy Wheatstone stood on the threshold.

Argos representatives all had certain things in common. Politeness was observed, even in such small matters as waiting to be invited into a room. Manners were deferential, even in cases where the Argos representative was offered rudeness in return. Dress was formal, stylish, and restrained. This afternoon Maddy wore a business suit of dark green and a white blouse, secured at the neck with a single cameo brooch. The design on the brooch was the Argos Group emblem, a blue-green globe gripped by a scarlet talon. Maddy’s hair was piled high on her head, with not a strand out of place. Its shining blackness contrasted with the pale and flawless complexion.

“Please, come in. Sit down.” Celine wondered about her own appearance. It had been a packed day of meetings, with minimal breaks to freshen up. She waved a hand toward the side table. “Can I get you something?”

That was more a polite formality than anything else. In five years of visits, Maddy Wheatstone had never accepted any form of stimulant. Perhaps public abstinence was another part of Argos policy. But today Maddy hesitated, then shrugged.

“A fizz, maybe? I think I could use one. Our bus from Sky City was grabbed for inspection — we had a mass anomaly — so it was a long trip back.”

Human weakness. It was nice to know that even Maddy admitted to it. Celine pushed a small, bulbous flask toward the other woman and watched as she filled a tiny liqueur glass.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Maddy was smiling. Celine felt the intensity of personality shining through those sparkling blue eyes — more personality than she herself had ever had.

She shook her head. “Not this late in the day. If I did, I’d never get to sleep without a downer.”

“Me too. I’ll worry about that later. A lot later. I still have a meeting with Gordy Rolfe today after we get through. Gordy was always difficult; now I think he’s getting worse. Anyway.” Maddy Wheatstone raised the little glass. “Here’s to successful enterprises.”

She drained the glass, blinked a couple of times as the fizz hit, and sat staring at Celine.

Celine wondered. Was that what was eating at Maddy? Gordy Rolfe was Maddy Wheatstone’s boss, an electronics wizard of legendary reputation who was also the founder and head of the Argos Group. Since Maddy’s promotion to vice president of development, Gordy was her only boss. Celine had met him only twice, but he seemed a person likely to bring an edge of uncertainty to any employee’s voice.

Maddy was calmer now, quietly waiting. This wasn’t a supplicant asking favors, where Celine’s “How can I help you?” might be applied. Celine wanted something out of this meeting, and Maddy knew it.

The place to start was with the simple mechanics. “Were you able to arrange for a meeting with Bruno Colombo when you go up to Sky City again?”

“It’s all set. I can’t claim credit, though. Gordy Rolfe fixed it for me through Nick Lopez. He says that’s the only sure way.”

“And the engineer who works for Colombo?” Celine glanced at her crib sheet. “John Hyslop?”

“That’s where I’ll earn my pay. I have to persuade Bruno Colombo that he can spare Hyslop, then I have to make him assign him to us. I just hope we have the right man.”

“You haven’t met Hyslop yet?”

“No. Next time.”

“But he was your group’s suggestion for the person to bring the asteroid work back on schedule.”

“Based on what our staff on Sky City told us. Didn’t you check him out?”

Celine nodded. Of course she had. The Argos Group had suggested Hyslop, but that wasn’t enough. Her checks had all come back positive: Hyslop’s reputation as an engineer was superb. But that didn’t stop Celine from worrying. She wanted to meet John Hyslop herself, to take the gauge of the man. But she couldn’t hold things up waiting for that meeting.

“When are you going back to Sky City?”

“Within forty-eight hours.” Fatigue showed for a moment in Maddy’s eyes, and the pale skin seemed a little too pale. “As soon as I’ve met with Gordy and we’ve put out a few fires locally.”

“The sooner the better. We really need that third Aten asteroid to supply us with raw materials. You really need it. Without the asteroid, the shield schedule is a mess and Argos carries part of the blame for delay. But if we solve the schedule problem, then I may be in a position to help you.”