you’d like to go, and see the world through its eyes. Maybe one day that will
turn out to be the regular way of exploring the surface of Titan—without any
need for a spacesuit . . . and maybe other places too. Who knows? Whatever
happens, I’m sure we’re in for more exciting developments.”
She laid the paper aside. “And now, returning from Titan, we move to Sydney,
Australia, where a young man by the name of Clive Drummond is planning to—”
Price stopped the recording.
“There’s more,” Massey said. “But I think you get the gist of it.”
Zambendorf was nonplussed as he stared at the blank screen. “How long has this
kind of thing been happening?” he whispered.
“About three weeks,” Massey told him. “Before that, the media hadn’t started
systematically developing any particular thematic image of the Taloids.”
“So there’s no question it’s deliberate?”
“None.”
“What about that man Conlon back at NASO, and whoever else he’s working with?”
Zambendorf asked. “If you’ve got a direct line, they must know that what the
public are being told is garbage. You must have told them. . . . Can’t they do
anything?”
“They’re trying,” Massey said. He shrugged. “But you know how it is.”
Zambendorf shook his head. “Leaherney, Lang, all of them . . . they knew. Even
while they were talking about oners, they knew these distortions were being
made. And even though there was no question that I’d have to find out sooner or
later.”
“Perhaps they were certain they’d be able to swing you round if they simply
cranked their oner high enough,” Price said. “That is pretty much the way they
operate.”
“It fits with the way they think,” Massey agreed.
Zambendorf walked slowly between the two tiers of bunks and turned when he
reached the far wall. “So what does all this mean?” he asked. “What’s behind it
all? Have you any theories about that?”
“Well, I don’t know that it’s anything especially new,” Massey replied. “But the
first step toward reducing a nation to colonial status in order to exploit it
has always been to dehumanize its inhabitants in the eyes of your own people
and—”
The call tone from Zambendorf’s personal communicator interrupted. “Excuse me,”
he said, taking the unit from his pocket and activating it. The miniature screen
showed the features of Otto Abaquaan, calling from the team’s quarters. “Yes,
Otto?” Zambendorf acknowledged. His choice of phrase indicated to Abaquaan that
Zambendorf had company.
“Have you got a moment?” Abaquaan asked.
“Go ahead.”
“Um, do you know where Joe is? Need to talk to him.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Got any idea where he went?”
“Sorry.”
“Oh, hell. Too bad, huh? Send him back if you see him. We need to talk to him.
Is that okay?”
“I will if I see him.”
“Okay.”
Zambendorf frowned for a second. Abaquaan wasn’t interested in locating Joe
Fellburg. His utterances had been structured according to a magician’s code in
which the mood of each phrase—interrogative or indicative—along with its initial
letter, conveyed an alphabetical character. What Zambendorf had read from it was
CMLT URGNT, which he interpreted as “Camelot. Urgent.” Abaquaan was telling him
that something had come in over the line from Arthur, and it couldn’t wait.
Massey and Price were looking at each other suspiciously. They were magicians
too.
Zambendorf stared from one to the other and bit his lip uncertainly. Were Massey
and he on the same side now? Now that Massey had taken Zambendorf into his
confidence, did he owe it to Massey to do likewise? His instincts were to cement
the alliance, but a lifetime’s experience urged caution.
And he saw that the same question was written across Massey’s face. Their
differences were trivial compared to the things they now knew they shared.
Zambendorf had to give some tangible sign that he felt the same way. Zambendorf
looked down at the screen of the communicator in his hand. “I’m with Gerry
Massey and Vernon Price,” he said. “A lot has happened that would make too long
a story to go into now. But you can speak plainly, Otto. The team has just
acquired two more members.”
The surprise on Abaquaan’s face lasted for just a fraction of a second. He was