Jack McDevitt - The Devil's Eye

It was a bright hour in what had been an unrelentingly dark few months. Alex elected to forgo his daily visit to the museum. Maybe because Selotta was not scheduled in-or she'd taken the day off, I don't

remember which-but we were all seated out on the deck in weather she described as unseasonably cool. The windows were down, and the heating system was on. Giambrey had arrived just before breakfast, but he was consumed watching for more news and exchanging encrypted messages with his contacts on Rimway. They were, he said, waiting for an announcement from the Confederates that the fleet was being dispatched to help at Salud Afar. That would be seriously big news. "They've still not committed themselves formally," he said. Clouds drifted out of the west, the sky was growing dark, and rain was coming. "High-level discussions are apparently under way," he continued, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. "We're hearing that Dellaconda, Seabright, and Camino are unhappy. They don't trust the Ashiyyur." Alex admitted he understood their concerns. "It's the same story you told us," he said to Selotta. "Politicians have been telling them for decades that the Ashiyyur can't be trusted, that they're savages. Now the politicians are telling them it's okay. We were just kidding." He shook his head. "They're border worlds. If there were an attack, they'd be first to be hit." The stakes were high. Either side was easily capable of taking out entire worlds. Selotta turned in my direction. "You're absolutely right, Chase," she said. I hadn't said anything, but I was thinking how irrational it all was. The rain started and turned quickly into a downpour. A cold wind swept in off the ocean. Kassel called to ask whether we'd heard anything more. His sources wanted to know what the Confederates were going to do. There was talk the Ashiyyur might demand a summit meeting with the Executive Director of the Confederacy, Ariel Whiteside. That would allow them to determine his intentions. The rumor had apparently reached the Confederacy. Giambrey watched the story come in and closed his eyes. "They won't permit a summit," he said. "Whiteside's given his word it won't happen." "Why not?" I asked. "That seems like a simple solution to the problem. Let the Chief Minister see for himself what Whiteside is thinking." "That's exactly why they won't do it, Chase. They're arguing that telepathic skills give the Ashiyyur too much of an advantage." "That's sheer lunacy," I said. We watched the storm beat against the windows. Alex leaned forward. "Not really," he said. "They have a point. At some stage, somebody's simply going to have to take a chance." Giambrey reacted to something he'd just read. "What is it?" asked Alex. "Toxicon's rep walked out. Don't know why." The evening wore on, and the storm showed no sign of abating. Rain got swept against the house. Kassel got home late again and came in drenched. He arrived with a recommendation that we take a few days and do a tour. "There are all sorts of historical and natural sites within easy reach of Provno. The Kaiman Cliffs look down into the deepest known canyon on any-" The discussion was cut short by another message to Giambrey. He read it, and smiled. Not an ordinary smile. But a wide grin with his fists in the air and his eyes blazing. "Yes!" he said. And before anyone could ask: "The Confederacy just voted to send assistance to Salud Afar." That ignited a celebration. We hugged each other and screeched and generally carried on until the neighbors called over to ask what had happened. I visualized the fleet setting out, a thousand ships to the rescue, cruisers and destroyers and patrol craft and support vessels of all kinds. Even then it might not be enough, but it would damn sure give Kilgore a fighting chance. I don't know that I had ever felt more ecstatic. It was the high point of my life. It was the reason Alex and I had gone to Salud Afar. No, more than the reason: We'd gone to solve a mystery, and maybe save a few lives, if it turned out that anyone was actually in danger. I think we had both suspected that Vicki had developed a mental problem, and that in the end we would go back with only that knowledge for our trouble.

But this- We were watching while people moved to save a world ! Of course there's a lot to be said for waiting until the money's in the bank before you start making announcements. The neighbors showed up, and the screaming and hugging started again. There was a fresh round every time somebody new came to the door. They were all wet, most were drenched, but it didn't matter. We embraced them anyhow. During the course of all this I asked Selotta why it was happening? "Why are your neighbors so involved?" "Because," she said, "they'd like the constant wars to stop. But there's something more." "And what's that?" "They've shared everything you've seen and felt. They've been on Salud Afar, too. Through you. They've seen the children and the crowds in the streets. And they've tasted the fear." We were still celebrating when Giambrey caught our attention. But this time he looked shocked. One of our visitors spoke through his voice box. "What's wrong, Giambrey?" "The Confederates are sending eleven ships. Eleven . Cargo and transport vessels. And that's all. The announcement was just made." "Eleven?" I said. "What the hell do they expect Kilgore to do with eleven?" Alex sank into a chair. Kassel simply stared out at the rain. "A token force," Kassel said. He looked at his wife. A silent message passed between them. Even now, they do not trust us.

Maybe especially now.

There were rumors that, despite the announcement, there was strong disagreement with the decision. That a dozen worlds, led by Toxicon, were strongly opposed. That Whiteside might even be overruled by the Confederate Council. But the following day, the Director spoke from the Hall of the People on Rimway. He sat behind the plain, battered desk that was part of his image. He looked lost in thought, his dark blue eyes peering past us into the distance. Public figures traditionally sit straight during these events, but Whiteside was supporting his jaw on one fist, his elbow planted on the desktop. His mustache, as always, was unkempt in a way that was intended to suggest a man of action, a decision-maker who could be counted on. He shook his head, as if dismayed by events, inhaled, and finally focused on us. The chair creaked as he leaned forward, reminding me that the omicron carried sound. "Citizens and friends," he said, "you are all aware by now of the desperate situation that has developed on Salud Afar. Administrator Kilgore is doing everything he can to alleviate the situation, but in fact there is little that can be done. The scale of the approaching disaster is simply too great. "Too great by far. "He has appealed to the Confederate Worlds for assistance. I am proud to say we are responding with all the resources at our disposal. Hundreds of ships, many operated by private corporations, and in some cases by individuals, are on their way as I speak to you tonight. Administrator

Kilgore has found a world that is being converted into a refuge. It is not by any means close to Salud Afar, but it is the nearest that nature has provided. "We will be helping to move as many of his people there as we possibly can. We are sending supplies, engineers, and other specialists who will assist in the effort to erect shelters on the new world, which they've named Sanctum . "In addition, we will be sending the Alberta , with its escort of destroyers and support vessels to assist in any way they can. Finally, I'm pleased to report that the Council has voted an aid package totaling six hundred million."