* * * * *
Appalled by this exhibition of low level civilian effrontery, they both
did so without really meaning to.
"Gentlemen," Jordan announced firmly in the almost uncanny silence, "the
entire problem is solved as of now. '58 Beta constitutes a demonstrable
menace to navigation. Under the authority vested in this office I will
issue instructions to have it picked up by a salvage ship tomorrow. Once
it's brought down you may claim it if you like and do with it what you
please."
Admiral Flack shot a look of pure triumph at General Criswell. The
General, however, was not paying attention. He was looking, almost with
an expression of pity, at Amos Jordan.
"I'm afraid, Mr. Jordan," he said slowly, "that you don't fully realize
the implications of such an act at this time. It may be within your
jurisdiction to salvage and all that, but I believe that the decision
_whether_ to salvage now rests with the legislature. I would hesitate to
act without securing high ... _very high_ concurrence in this matter."
Flack erupted.
"Criswell, you're an idiot! A chicken hearted idiot! On top of that you
haven't any business telling Jordan ... ah, _Mr._ Jordan what he can and
can't do."
Criswell glared icily at Flack.
"A mere suggestion," he gritted and stalked out.
Admiral Flack paused and bestowed a warm smile upon Amos Jordan before
hurrying out the door after the General. As the door closed Jordan heard
the contest break out afresh in the lobby.
* * * * *
That was only the beginning. The general population, eager for a silly
season diversion, chose sides with religious fervor. Congress went into
emergency session. Newspapers drew their lines and fought ferociously.
Student riots began on the second day and sympathy strikes on the third.
On the fourth Jordan got the big news break first, for a change. With
growing caution he had been holding the situation unaided by the simple
expedient of refusing to issue a salvage permit without which '58 Beta
could not be touched. Clements brought the news at midnight,
interrupting a tempestuous press conference.
He managed to get Jordan out of the milling lobby and into the office.
"We've got trouble, chief," he began. "Ascension reports Beta out of
orbit."
Jordan stared incredulously.
"Perturbed that badly already? Maybe something's wrong with their
computers."
"Not perturbed, chief. Gone. It's just not there any more. It's been
picked up ... no doubt about it."
Jordan's face purpled.
"I want a complete ground tracking report on that pebble for the last
three revolutions. Fast!"
"I doubt if we can get it," said Clements dubiously. "Woomera only
checks it occasionally to train radar operators. Perigee was south of
Singapore on the last two passes, but so low I doubt if they got any
clear sightings. It would be a waste of time."