"She may already have gone to breakfast," said Langsmith.
"Be better if we got her in here hungry and jumpy," said the civilian.
"Are you sure you can handle her, Smitty?" asked Speidel.
Langsmith took his pipe from his mouth, peered into the stem as
though the answer were to be found there. "We've got her pretty well
analyzed," he said. "She's a recent widow, you know. Bound to still
have a rather active death-wish structure."
There was a buzzing of whispered conversation from a group of officers
at one end of the table. Speidel tapped his fingers on the arm of his
chair.
Presently, the door opened. Francine entered. A hand reached in from
outside, closed the door behind her.
"Ah, there you are, Dr. Millar," said Langsmith. He got to his feet.
There was a scuffling sound around the table as the others arose.
Langsmith pointed to an empty chair diagonally across from him. "Sit
down, please."
Francine advanced into the light. She felt intimidated, knew she showed
it, and the realization filled her with a feeling of bitterness tinged
with angry resentment. The ride down the elevator from the surface had
been an experience she never wanted to repeat. It had seemed many times
longer than it actually was--like a descent into Dante's Inferno.
She nodded to Langsmith, glanced covertly at the others, took the
indicated chair. It was a relief to get the weight off her trembling
knees, and she momentarily relaxed, only to tense up again as the
others resumed their seats. She put her hands on the table, immediately
withdrew them to hold them clasped tightly in her lap.
* * * * *
"Why was I brought here like a prisoner?" she demanded.
Langsmith appeared honestly startled. "But I told you last night that
I'd send somebody for you."
Speidel chuckled easily. "Some of our Security boys are a little
grim-faced," he said. "I hope they didn't frighten you."
She took a deep breath, began to relax. "Is this about the request
I made last night?" she asked. "I mean for help in this new line of
research?"
"In a way," said Langsmith. "But first I'd like to have you answer a
question for me." He pursed his lips. "Uh ... I've never asked one of
my people for just a wild guess before, but I'm going to break that
rule with you. What's your guess as to why these Galactics are here?"
"Guess?"
"Logical assumption, then," he said.
She looked down at her hands. "We've all speculated, of course. They
might be scientists investigating us for reasons of their own."
"Damnation!" barked the civilian beside her. Then: "Sorry, ma'm. But
that's the pap we keep using to pacify the public."
"And we aren't keeping them very well pacified," said Langsmith. "That
group that stormed us last night called themselves the _Sons of Truth_!
They had thermite bombs, and were going to attack the spaceship."
"How foolish," she whispered. "How pitiful."
"Go on with your guessing, Dr. Millar," said Speidel.
She glanced at the general, again looked at her hands. "There's the
military's idea--that they want Earth for a strategic base in some kind
of space war."
"It could be," said Speidel.
"They could be looking for more living space for their own kind," she
said.
"In which case, what happens to the native population?" asked Langsmith.
"They would either be exterminated or enslaved, I'm afraid. But the
Galactics could be commercial traders of some sort, interested in our
art forms, our animals for their zoos, our archeology, our spices,
our...." She broke off, shrugged. "How do we know what they may be
doing on the side ... secretly?"
"Exactly!" said Speidel. He glanced sidelong at Langsmith. "She talks
pretty level-headed, Smitty."
"But I don't believe any of these things," she said.
"What is it you believe?" asked Speidel.
"I believe they're just what they represent themselves to
be--representatives of a powerful Galactic culture that is immeasurably
superior to our own."
"Powerful, all right!" It was a marine officer at the far end of the
table. "The way they cleaned off Eniwetok and swept our satellites out
of the skies!"
"Do you think there's a possibility they could be concealing their true
motives?" asked Langsmith.
"A possibility, certainly."
"Have you ever watched a confidence man in action?" asked Langsmith.
"I don't believe so. But you're not seriously suggesting that
these...." She shook her head. "Impossible."
"The _mark_ seldom gets wise until it's too late," said Langsmith.