CRADLE OF SATURN BY JAMES P. HOGAN

Hu sent a technician with two security guards to collect the other three from the hotel. They arrived with their belongings packed, including Keene’s. It seemed there was no manager, and the few staff that had shown up were letting friends from the neighborhood help themselves to bedding, linen, and the contents of vending machines, and selling off the kitchen stores. With credit cards already as good as useless, cash was becoming suspect. Preferred currencies were nonperishable foods, any kind of drink, drugs, and gasoline. After Keene left the hotel, there had been trouble with people siphoning gas from cars in the parking lot, and somebody had been shot. Gordon, still incredulous, described the scene to Keene. “The cops were there, but then they got called away on some higher priority. Can you believe that? There’s a guy lying dead in the parking lot, and they have to leave! I mean, I know this is LA, but I thought it was only like that in the movies.”

Gordon was concerned for his folks and his fiancée back in Washington. Barbara was worried about the help who was supposed to be taking care of her mother. Keene agreed that their work here was done and asked Colby Greene to talk to the local command about getting them back before things got any worse. Colby himself offered to stay on and help Keene with the task of briefing Beckerson’s West Coast administration. “It might be safer here,” he remarked, eyeing Keene indecipherably through his huge spectacles. “From what we’ve been hearing, everything the other side of the fault might just as likely fall into the Atlantic. I always wanted a beachfront pad.”

Wally Lomack got through to Keene on the Washington line around lunchtime. He was still at the White House but due to leave that evening on an official plane going to Houston. His job with the Kronians was done, and whatever happened when they reappeared would no longer involve him. The lander from the Osiris was on the ground at Andrews; the next move was up to Voler’s group. It was time for Lomack to get back to Emma and his family in Texas.

“I don’t know that there’s much a fellow of my age can do, but what else is there?” he said from the screen. Keene couldn’t help thinking that he seemed to have aged another ten years. “At least whatever happens, we’ll all be together. I just wanted to say so long and all that while there’s still the chance. It’s been great working with a guy like you, Lan. It’s a pity we won’t be doing too much more of it for a while. What about you?”

“I don’t know. There’s more to be doing here for a while,” Keene said.

“Will you be heading back afterward?”

“Right now, Wally, it’s impossible to say. In case that turns out not to be practicable, I talked to Marvin about including my people there in whatever plans the firm works out—you know, Vicki and the others.”

Lomack nodded. “I talked to Marvin too. Look, there’s something you ought to know about. He’s arranging for that minishuttle that’s at Montemorelos to be fueled and kept at launch readiness. There’s no hard and fast plan as to how it’s to be used or when. Just a precaution. It seems like everybody in the world with access to launch capability is trying to take insurance. Everything that will move is coming back from the Moon. There’s fighting going on for possession of some of the European bases. Apparently there have been some unscheduled launchings from Eastern Siberia and China.”

Keene’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Already?”

Lomack nodded wearily. “Nobody’s sure exactly why. But then, a lot of people aren’t reacting exactly rationally, anyway.”

There wasn’t a lot else to say. Keene showed his hands and sighed. “Well, Wally, what can I tell you? It was good, as you say. We sure ran some rings around those guys, didn’t we? I guess the Kronians have the ball for a while now. . . .”

Lomack looked away as a voice shouted something from the background. “Yes, it’s him now,” he called offscreen. Then, turning back to Keene, “Roy Sloane says he wants a word. Sounds urgent.”

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