The three spider ships waited in the late evening darkness. Only a few
spectators loitered. The television cameras were quiet. Army sentries
patroled the area to keep the starmen inside and the curious out.
Norma's heels clicked sharply on the runway as she approached. At the
ropes she stopped and showed the guard the entry permit her brother had
obtained for her.
"Come under," the guard said, lifting the rope.
"The one called Herb?"
"He's in that one over there."
She moved in the indicated direction. A moment before, the night had
been warm. Now an uncomfortably chill breeze whispered around her as
she moved into the starship's shadow. The thought of the distance it
had come, the countless millions of miles of space its hull had shed,
was enough to dwarf her into less than insignificance. She wanted to
run back to the guard, and to the protection of the familiar.
The ladder was down, and when she reached it, the door above opened and
a starman looked out.
"I'd like to come up."
The starman went away. In a moment, he was back with one of the three
who could speak English.
"I'd like to come up," Norma repeated.
"We've already given the official tour for today."
"I have an authorization from our government. I'd like to talk to Herb.
You tell him I'm from Senator Council. It's about the report."
"Just a moment." He disappeared inside. Norma teetered nervously back
and forth. Wonderingly she put out her hand to touch the hard, icy
metal of the ladder.
"Come up."
She began to climb toward the opening. Looking behind her, she saw
Washington, real and solid and reassuring.
The starman at the top helped her inside.
Herb was coming down the narrow corridor. She smiled at him. "Hello."
"Hello...."
"I want to talk to you a moment."
He gestured her inside.
In the first room off the main corridor, Herb stopped. Several starmen
hovered nearby to listen.
"Can I talk to you for just a couple of seconds alone?"
"Why--why, yes, I guess." He looked around for permission.
The Oligarch, towering imperiously on the fringe of the group, said,
"Why don't you interview her in my office, Herb?"
"Come along," Herb said.
In contrast to the Spartan plainness of the rest of the ship, the
Oligarch's office was richly furnished. Its private corridor led past
the messhall and opened upon the main corridor that led forward to the
second level: it was strategically located; from its doorway, one could
interdict entrance and escape.
It was the first time Herb had been in the room. Automatically his eyes
searched the walls.
"Senator Council asked me to talk to you," Norma said. "He wants you
to understand about the report. You've heard? It's going to the full
Senate tomorrow. We'd like you to...."
"I'm only a technician, Miss."
"My name is Norma."
"Norma." His emotions were tangled beyond solution. He wanted to say,
'I'll stay behind when the others leave, will that make everything all
right, you won't blame me, you won't blame me for it if I stay behind,
will you?' His mind hurt with the confusion.
"We thought, if you'd go away, if the people thought we'd actually lost
you...."
"It's not for me to make any kind of decision. I'll have to ask. Would
that be all right, sir?"
Norma blinked. She did not understand to whom the question was
addressed. Her eyes followed his to the wall, a concealed microphone?
She felt a little prickle of fear.
The Oligarch stood in the doorway behind her. "That will be agreeable
with us."
She whirled guiltily.
"Bud wanted to, to see Herb tonight...." Norma felt resentment against
this man in the doorway. "I was told to bring Herb."
"I will be able to speak for my government."
"I was told to bring Herb," Norma said stubbornly. Bud had not
specified, but she told herself that she would not yield to a stranger.
She did not consider Herb a stranger. "Isn't it all right to take him?"
"He may come, too, if you wish." He smiled. "Whatever you wish."
His voice was not reassuring. "Thank you." She modified her tone. Some
of the iciness went out of it. "I'll leave now. Bud will send two
C.I.D. men over for you."
* * * * *
Sitting at his desk in his Georgetown apartment, Bud looked through a
stack of letters.
Norma, waiting, tried to become interested in a _Saturday Evening Post_
story and failed. She put the magazine aside.
The knock they were waiting for came.
Bud rose and crossed quickly to the door.
"Ah, hello," he said with a genial smile. "If you gentlemen will wait
downstairs, I'll call you when they are ready to leave." The C.I.D. men
withdrew. "Hello, young fellow. Herb, I believe? And?"
"George.... How would George be?"
"George," the Senator said, pumping the Oligarch's hand and drawing him
across the threshold. "I like your people's way of using first names.
Very democratic. Just call me Bud."
They arranged themselves around the room.
"I don't suppose you'd care for a drink?"
"I'd be delighted," George said.
Bud, solemn faced, mixed the drinks, talking over his shoulder. "I hope
you haven't taken our Committee report as a rejection of your generous
offer.... You understand? I want to explain my position--what we, you
and I, can do.... There we are." He turned from his labors and handed
the drinks around.
"Norma, Herb. I wonder if you'd mind if George and I stepped in there?"
"It's all right with us," Norma said.
Bud and the Oligarch went into the study. Bud closed the door.
"Now," he said. Ambition was a sickness in him. _This is the boy I've
got to sell_, he thought. That's all I've got to do: sell him. Once
he's sold, the rest will follow. Ambition was like a hunger, and
success hung in the air like smoke. "We can have a nice, private talk.
I'm sure you'll appreciate my rather delicate position."
George swirled ice and smiled.
"Norma tells me you can speak for your government?"
George nodded.
"Let's sit down."
"Thank you."
"Now here's the way I feel about it. I'm on your team. We're both on
the same team. I want to help you all I can, and I know you'll want to
help me."
George nodded.
"I was thinking: if you would leave. Not tell anybody. Leave tonight. I
don't mean for good, but make it look that way. You see?"
"Our leaving would serve as an emotional shock?"
"Yes, exactly. Your leaving might be just what the people need to
wake them up and get them on our team. I don't need to tell you that
the Senate is likely to reject your offer. I mean, right now. The
way things stand now. My first mail is coming in. It's predominantly
unfavorable. But some telegrams I've gotten, I think the people are
coming around. But they're still not around yet. We need a couple of
weeks. My idea is, I'd like to be the one that--more or less--handles
it."
"You want us to work through you?"
"You have put your finger on it, George. If there's just one Earthman
you can trust and work through, who knows the ropes...."
"I believe I understand."
"And when you come back, you make it plain that it was Bud Council
who brought you back--it was Bud Council who really convinced you to
return."
"You and I," George said, "will probably be able to work out a deal."
Jubilation rang in Bud's ears. This was it. The talk of working out a
deal was an assurance of victory. President Bud--no, perhaps it would
be better, more dignified, to be President _Phil_. He would write it
out and see which looked best: President Philip Council or President
Bud Council.... History lay heavily upon his thoughts.... For the first
time he actually felt at home with a starman.
"Perhaps you would do something for us?" George said.
Bud found himself looking deep into George's eyes. Instinctively he
knew that George knew him better than he knew himself, and that George
had carefully studied him according to no one could tell what alien
science.
"Why, why, yes, yes, of course."
"Well," George said, rising and going to Bud and dropping a hand across
his shoulder, "just to be sure that you really are on our team, perhaps
you could give us a little token of loyalty."
Bud grew cold in anticipation. But the crowds cheering and the banners
waving.... No! Not now, they couldn't snatch it away now! What was
it George wanted? Money? A signed agreement? Patronage? "Why, yes,
naturally."
George's hand tightened in friendly reassurance. He knew that he had
found his man. "Your brother's head. I believe his name is Frank. His
head. We'll expect you to have it for us when we return in two weeks.
Two weeks from tomorrow."
He no longer needed to count on Herb.