Jack McDevitt - The Devil's Eye

Families were mounting pleas for anyone leaving Salud Afar to take their kids. Several watchdog organizations wanted investigations to determine who was at fault. Conspiracy theorists were arriving in force. Not only had Cleev and Kilgore known-pick one-but some maintained that a secret society had known but kept it quiet for religious purposes. (The religious purposes never became clear.) Other groups argued that in fact there was no threat from Callistra, that it was a cover-up, that the real threat was the time-space rift, which was about to descend on the planet and swallow it whole. Despite everything, the public response was less frantic than Wexler or Kilgore had expected. It was, after all, three years away. And, as politicians always say, a lot can happen in three years. Meantime, we got fresh reports of growing tension between the Confederacy and the Mutes, including at least two incidents in which warships had fired on each other. Someone had forgotten to turn the fabrication machine off. I was beginning to feel guilty. "Why, Chase?" "We should have called that service," I said. "Gotten a group of children to take out of here with us." Alex sighed. "I'm not anxious to spend the next four weeks with a bunch of kids, but you're right. When we get upstairs, let's check with them. But make sure we get a couple of mothers, too, okay?" He bit his lip. "I wish we had more capacity."

On the space station, we stopped for sandwiches at Sandstone's. While Alex stared at his coffee, I contacted Operations. "You're ready to go," the watch officer said. He allowed a note of derision to creep into his voice. "A lot of people outbound today. When do you want to leave?"

"We thought we'd take some kids with us," I said. "The ones they're trying to evacuate."

"Yeah. Well, none of them are here yet."

"When are you expecting them?"

"Don't know. But we can have you ready for launch in ninety minutes, if that works for you."

"You have no idea at all?"

"Negative. You want to hang around, that's okay. Maybe they'll come up tomorrow. I think you're supposed to make the arrangement before you come."

"All right. We'll get back to you." "Call them," said Alex. I tried. The AIs were overwhelmed. When we did get through, the responses weren't helpful. Nobody knew anything. Everyone referred us to someone else. They weren't ready yet. Not online. Still setting it up. Please leave your code, and we'll get back to you.

"It's people with kids," Alex said. "They apparently didn't think to set up a separate code for people offering transport."

We left our code and waited around. Two hours later, we called again, and the situation hadn't changed. We checked into a hotel. "This could take forever," Alex said. We eventually wound up in the hotel lobby, waiting to hear what Kilgore had to say. "Do we really want to hang around here until the bureaucracies sort it out?" Alex asked. No. I didn't. "Let's do it this way," Alex said. "Let's get out of here and go home. Once we get home, Belle 's yours. If you want to come back and do rescues, it's your call." Damn. "Okay," I said. "Let's get moving." I called Ops again. Same officer. He looked harassed. "I guess you haven't heard," he said. "The Belle-Marie 's been impounded. They've all been impounded." "All the ships?"

"Yes."

"By whom?"

"By the government."

"For how long?"

"Indefinitely. They really didn't give us any details. But I assume they're going to use them to move people out."

"Thanks," I said.

"Sorry. Wish I could help."

Alex was wearing a tired smile. "We should have anticipated that." He spoke into his link: "Connect me with Number 17 Parkway, please." He gave a code we'd gotten from the staff. "They can't just take Belle ," I said. Alex got through and a male voice answered, basso profundo. "Executive Office." A few people seated around us heard. They turned in our direction and stared. Alex dialed the volume down. "This is Alex Benedict," he said softly. "I was there the other day, speaking with the Administrator." That got a reaction from our fellow patrons. Smiles, people nodding sure you did, eyes rolling skyward. "I'm calling from Samuels. We're trying to get home."

"Okay. Is there a problem?"

"Our ship has been impounded. By you folks." "Ah." He took a breath. "Hold a minute, please." Alex looked at me, shook his head, closed his eyes. The basso profundo came back. "Yes, sir. The directive came from the top, but compensation will be made. Instructions on how to apply are available at-"

"I don't want compensation. I want my ship."

"I'm sorry, Mr.-Who did you say you were again, please?"

"Alex Benedict." "I'm sorry, Mr. Benedict. The directive explicitly states 'no exceptions. '" "May I speak with your supervisor?" "I am sorry, sir. She's not available at the moment." "May I speak with Dr. Belhower, please?"

"Who?" "Dr. Circe Belhower." There was another pause. "I'm sorry, sir. There's no one with that name on the staff." I reminded Alex she was a consultant. "I don't suppose," Alex said, "the Administrator is available?" "I can put you on the list." He sounded as if he did this all the time. "Can you get a message to him?"

"Of course." "I need my ship back. It's the Belle-Marie . I'm trying to go home." "I'll see that your message is placed in his box."

I called Ivan, and we met in the Pilots' Club. "I guess we stirred something up," he said. "Looks like." He sat down, smiled, looked smug. "What?" I said. "Business is booming. They've located a world where conditions are reasonable. A place where they can start moving people. They've already got some engineers en route. It's thirteen thousand light-years from here. In toward the rim. Not exactly next door, but not like going all the way into Rimway." "You're going there?" "Leaving tonight. With a full load. So what can I do for you? You don't want to go back to the monument, do you?" I couldn't tell whether he was serious. He ordered some appetizers and soft drinks for us. "They've confiscated our ship." "They've taken everybody's." "You know any way we can get it back?" He shook his head. "Chase," he said, "I hate to say this, but I think you're here for the duration."

While I was sitting with Ivan, Peifer ran the interview we'd recorded and, during the wrap-up, revealed what he had on Vicki Greene. Vicki had known months ago. Someone had tried to silence her. Who else could that be except the administration? Hours later we heard there was a crack in the Coalition. Strictly behind the scenes, of course. The public image of world leaders working together to save a desperate situation was coming apart. Rumors had it that they believed Kilgore had known all along. Even if he hadn't, he should have. Reportedly, they wanted him to step aside.

The Administrator's second address came from the World Library in Marinox. He stood behind a rostrum and, in one of the great understatements of the age, started by commenting that he knew everybody was concerned about the gamma-ray burst. "I want to remind you that it is three years away. That gives us time to implement several courses of action. But first I want to assure you that we are in this together. Neither I nor any of my staff will set foot off this world as long as anyone who wants to leave is still here."

"That's pretty gutsy," I said. Alex got that skeptical look in his eyes.