Once in space and safely away--Paul gloated that the former captors
were without spacecraft now--he stopped the flight of the ship and
spent a couple of hours making some course-calculations. The return to
Latham's Triplets was jerky because he was uncertain of the distance
and so they made it in five approximations, ending up finally with only
a few hours to go for landing.
Paul's first interest was his laboratory set-up. There had been plenty
of time for the three-way hookup to be established, and for all he knew
the boys he had set to checking it might have completed the connection,
proved in the Z-wave, and gone home to Neoterra with the glad news in
their hands.
He entered the laboratory on Latham Beta III, and his face fell. Dust
covered the equipment, the pilot lamps were out, and obviously nothing
had been done for weeks, if not months. It was untenanted and untended.
Paul went to the supervisor of the botanical set up.
"I don't know," he said with a certain disinterest. "Your boys fooled
around for a couple of weeks after you left and then decided that you'd
gone for good. They might have sent word back to Neoterra, but it
seemed a better idea to pick up and go home. So they did."
Paul went back to the laboratory. Nora said, "Paul, let's go to
Neoterra."
"Why?"
"I want Huston to know I'm all right."
Paul looked at her blankly. "They might have left the radio beacons
on," he mumbled.
"What?"
He told her again.
"But we'd best get to Neoterra."
Paul shook his head. "Nora, Latham's Triplets is one of the best places
to test this Z-wave in the system. I've got to stay and check it."
Nora shook her head. "Paul--"
Paul looked at her. "Nora," he said soberly, "we're at cross-purposes
again. Two things are important in my life. One of them is Nora and one
of them is my work. My girl and my work do not agree--or let's say that
my girl does not agree with my work. Until I get a chance to prove my
work, there will always be this conflict. Since it takes such a short
time to prove my work, why not wait?"
Nora looked up at him. "I'll wait," she said simply.
"Will you marry me--now?"
Nora smiled. "Yes. If you don't mind a wife with literally nothing to
wear. Everything I own is on me right now. But won't we have to go to
Neoterra?"
"Here we go again," growled Paul.
Nora laughed and kissed him. "Do you want to wait three months for the
radio beams to cross Latham's Triplets?" she asked him.
"I--wait a minute!"
"What, Paul?"
"It is barely possible that--" his voice trailed away as he eyed a
dusty calendar on one of the desks. He went to it and began flipping
pages. "It's barely possible that my gang did not turn off the radio
beacons for a couple of weeks after I got caught by Westlake," muttered
Paul. "Just barely possible--"
He went to the beacon receiver and turned it on. Impatiently he waited
for it to warm up.
It came to life and Paul tuned carefully through the band where he
expected the beacons to come through. There was silence. He ran the
dial far to one side, and then to the other. At one point he picked up
some 'side splash' from the big interstellar beacon on Latham Alpha IV,
leakage from the tight beam.
He sat up stiffly.
"Nora, will you wait a week?"
"Week?"
"I've caught some of the radiation leakage from the big transmitter. We
can use that."
"And if you fail?"
"I won't fail."
"Then if you succeed?"
"Nora, if I succeed, I'll ask you to wait another three months. Because
if I succeed, I'll want to wait until the Galactic Survey link between
Latham Alpha IV and Old Baldy comes in. Then--"
"How are you going to check between here and Alpha IV?"
"Stacey and Morrow and you and I--" he said. His voice trailed away for
a moment, and then he forgot what he was going to say because he was
busy with the instrument panel.
* * * * *
Albert Donatti had been editor of the Neoterra _News_ through three
changes of policy. The _News_, claiming to be politically neutral, was
definitely neutral on the coalition side, presenting the autonomy party
in less than favorable light, while tending to gloss over any missteps
taken by the coalitionists.
Like the other newspapers, the Neoterra _News_ subscribed to the Neosol
Wire Service, and so Al Donatti got the same news that the other
subscribers did.
Al had been sitting at his desk all morning trying to think up
something bright and brilliant to say about Huston and his plans, or
something bright and derogatory to say about Hoagland's gang. Even
Donatti had become tired of making the same veiled remarks regarding
the possibility of furnishing Terran and Solarian news before it was
ten months old, but he knew that the one way to hold the home tie was
to keep on offering hope.
The virtual disappearance (for Hoagland was not inclined to give out
his plans) of Paul Grayson had put a crimp in the schedule, for they
never knew when they said one thing whether the other side would be
able to come up with incontrovertible truth to the contrary. With a few
less facets to play upon, the editorializing of Huston and the Z-wave
was almost reduced to the constant harping on a single subject--which
is tiring even to the most ardent enthusiast. Even a faithful believer
wants some shred of proof.
So the coalition party was in the same state as a prize fighter who has
trained too fine; who has reached the pinnacle of physical perfection
some time before the fray. The additional newscopy that would have been
furnished by Paul Grayson's presence among the coalition group had been
diminished. That additional space would have kept the campaign rising
upward.
It had been a long dry stretch, even for an imaginative editor with a
bill of goods to sell. Manufacturing news is one of the hardest things
in the world after the process has gone on for month after month.
Donatti was reaching the end of the string, and there were still months
to go.
Donatti groaned, and then looked up to see a copy boy approaching,
waving a reel of recording tape in one hand.
"Yes--?"
"Z-wave! Z-wave!" said the copy boy breathlessly.
"So what--?" grunted Donatti, taking the reel and slipping it into his
playback.
It started: "Neosol Wire Service. Neovenus, Four August. Archeologists
today discovered the traces of a crude civilization dating at least
seven thous--"
Donatti groaned. That would make page eighteen, sandwiched between an
ad and the local theatre column.
"--and years old. No trace of this civilization remains today. Crude
pottery and some stone arrowheads--"
"Crude pottery and stone arrowheads," snapped Donatti. "So what? What's
this Z-wave business?"
"--were found among buried sub-humanoid bones. It has been an
elementary principle among archeologists that proper burial of the dead
is an indication of intell--
"Hell!" exploded Donatti. "Z-wave! So this thing came Z-wave from
Neovenus. They all do!"
"--igence. The arrowheads bear a remarkable resemblance to prehistoric
arrowheads found on Terra. However no connection between the stellar
planets can be assumed, since arrowheads are a natural bit of design
among primitive peoples and--"
Here there came another voice! Superimposed upon the dry voice of the
commentator for Neosol Wire, the whole was almost impossible to decode
and separate:
"--like the lever as the basic simple machine which would be
"_Stacey, Morrow! Can you hear me? I'm on the air._" "_Yes_, discovered
as soon as the first man discovered how to use a _by all that's holy,
we hear you! Or at least I do! Morrow?_ _This_ stick of wood as
a means of prying a large boulder aside from _is Stacey on Latham
Alpha IV, can you hear us on Latham_ the opening of a likely cave,
the similar use of a lever some _Gamma VI_?" "_This is Toby Morrow,
fellers. Both of your sta-_ where else in the galaxy would not mean
that some cultural _tions are coming in like a ton of bricks_." _Nora,
now will you_ connection had ever existed between the distant cultures.
How- _believe me_?" "_Paul, I do want to believe you, but isn't this
a_ ever it is of basic interest to know that there was a civilized
_rather short distance as interstellar distances go? Three light_
culture in the galaxy other than Solarium Humankind. Doubt- _months is
not anywhere near as far as several light years_." less as the galaxy
is explored, other cultures and civilizations "_But this is just the
beginning! Can I bring you the rest?_" will be discovered. It is more
than likely that other civiliza- "_Do that, my dear and you will have
forever proven your_ tions will be found which are still thriving. In
fact it is not _place_." "_With you?_" "_With me? No, Paul, I mean with
the_ unlikely that our technical perfection may be overshadowed _worlds
of science and men. You should know your place with_ by some greater
culture whose history of development may _me_." "_Should I?_" "_You
should, Paul._" "_Where?_" "_You wouldn't_ extend back earlier than the
history of Mankind. _want me to say this over the air?_" "_Not hardly._"
Donatti listened to the unmistakable sounds of ardent osculation with
a saccharine expression on his face. Then the fatuous look died to be
replaced by sudden excitement. With one hand he stopped the playback
and with the other he grabbed the telephone.
"Get me Huston!" he roared.
"What do you need a telephone for?" asked the operator.
The connection was made in a hurry.
"Huston! The Z-wave is in!"
"In?"
"It's in, goddammit and I've got proof!"
"Proof?"
"Don't stand there gabbing. Get over here!"
"You're sure?"
Donatti laughed. "I've just heard Nora kissing Grayson via Z-wave!"
"You've--what--?"
"You heard me--"
The phone clicked.
Donatti reached for the intercom. "Stop everything!" he roared. "Break
down the first page and set up for bright red ink! Seven-slug banner:
Z-WAVE! across the top in red. Get that started and we'll write the
story on the lino. Morgan! Get over here and do something about it! You
can run a lino; don't bother to script it first, go down and set it
up! Timmy! Bust out a picture of Grayson and Nora Phillips if you can.
Jones? Start a Page Three blast against Haedaecker and his goddammed
'Haedaecker's Theory.' Jason? Make a repro of this tape. Lewiston!
Bust into the soap opera just before the grand climax with a 'special
announcement.' Brief and not too informative, details later, you
know. Forhan, see if you can get a statement--as if we need one, but
it'll do no harm--from Senator Beaumont. Morganser, do the same with
Representative Horace. We'll print 'em side by side. Carol, go out to
Dirty Joe's and bring me back a gallon of black coffee."
The _News_ office was ticking like a time bomb about to go off when
Huston came in. His first words were: "Did anybody have the brains to
try calling 'em back?"
"Ah--I doubt it."
"Dammit, do it! You try calling 'em back!"
"And you?"
Huston scowled. "They're out there on Latham's Triplets, all alone and
unprotected. Y'know what happens next?"
"I can imagine."
"Well, this is what amounts to war. I'm collecting what I can to go out
there and see that they're protected!"
"Good luck," said Donatti. "Y'wanna hear the record before you take
off?"
"I can wait that long. Yes!"
The superimposed recording was just ending when one of the office boys
brought back two papers. One of them was Donatti's, with "Z-WAVE!" in a
bright red headline across the top.
The other was as red, as large, and as vigorous. It said, merely: "LIES"
"This is still a dirty fight," said Huston sourly. He scanned the
opposition paper with a sneer: "Prepared recording, false evidence,
untruth, political maneuvering, smear technique, untruth, false hope,
clever machine politics, O hell, Donatti. Y'know the only way to shut
these bastards up?"
"I can guess."
"Well, that's what I'm going to do!"
Huston left Donatti's office on the dead run.
* * * * *
Hoagland faced his underlings across the desk, his eyes glittering. "So
I played a hunch and was wrong. It's not gone yet. All we have to do is
play it close."
"But what can we do?"
"Outguess 'em!"
"How?"
"You're not very bright, are you?" sneered Hoagland. "Good thing
Jeffers is running the paper. You know, don't you, Jeffers?"
"Sure. All I have to do is to reproduce a recording of Grayson's first
false attempt on Proxima I."
"Right. And then?"
"Then the only thing that will convince the great public is to have the
President of Terra himself make a talk over the Z-wave between Terra
and here. And don't think that Huston won't try."
"Of course he'll try. Even if he were far ahead, he'd try, because he
is no idiot. But if he doesn't?"
"Then the failure itself can be used."
"Correct," said Hoagland. "So you stay tight at your desk and get ready
to blast 'em out of their pants when President Bennington doesn't come
through." Hoagland turned to a tall, slender, elderly man with a bit of
a squint that came, extraordinarily, out of sharp eyes. "Astronomers!"
he snorted.
Doctor Hargreave shrugged. "That's why the Galactic Survey was
started," he said quietly. "Because we did not know the precisely
accurate distances between the stars. Don't blame me. Your election
date was set by law a long time ago. Don't blame me if the Galactic
Network is completed before Election Day. We had only physical
observation to go on. It's not my fault."
Hoagland nodded unhappily. "I know," he admitted unhappily. "But if
the Galactic Network is completed before Election Day it will be my
failure!"