Vicki smiled and snorted, but remained serious, staring out into the night in silence for a while. Then she said, “You know, there’s a lot more at stake here than I realized before. If the whole thing is a scam, the only thing that makes sense as to why the Kronians should have gone to such lengths is to get a share of the real power structure instead of being just an outpost on the fringes. Because if they’d gotten Earth behind them in this program they came here to sell, that’s what it would have meant. It does makes a crazy kind of sense.”
Keene shook his head. “It’s not crazy at all. That’s the jackpot question, Vicki. If it was a scam, and we bought it but the people we thought we were so much smarter than didn’t, Kronia is finished. But if it’s straight . . .” he sought for a phrase, “then they could be the next leap in the social evolution of the human species.”
Vicki fell silent again while she thought about it. “You don’t really believe them, though, do you, Lan?” she said finally. “The Kronians. Deep down, you’re not convinced.”
Keene looked across at her, surprised. “I said I don’t know what to believe. What makes you say that?”
Vicki shrugged lightly. “You’re here, back in Texas. You didn’t stay around to see them off. What does that tell you?”
* * *
They pulled into the parking lot in front of the Bandana and parked next to a pickup, where a group of a half dozen to a dozen youths and girls were standing around talking in the flickering glow from the neon signs. The sound of heavy-beat country music from inside greeted them as they climbed out of the car. The air was warm and close after Washington, but with a fresher scent coming in with the breeze off the coastal plain. Keene stretched his arms and looked up at the sky. All that could be seen of Athena now was a pale glow over the western horizon. Even though the time was approaching midnight, a matter of days ago it would have been a bright column climbing halfway up the sky. It meant that the tail was foreshortening as Athena came around from perihelion, swinging around like a lighthouse beam to sweep past Earth before Athena crossed Earth’s orbit in just a few weeks time. Between now and then it would become the most spectacular object to fill the sky ever in human history—unless, of course, the Kronians were right about the Venus encounter.
“How ya doin’?” one of the youths inquired genially as Keene walked around the car to join Vicki. He was tall and lean, wearing jeans with a plain shirt and vest, and had a white ten-gallon tipped to the back of his head.
“Doing okay,” Keene replied. “How about you guys?”
“Oh, just fine. It’s busy in there tonight, I’m tellin’ ya.”
“We’ll risk it.”
“Take care, now.”
Keene followed Vicki up a few steps up to the entry porch. “I think I’ll get a hat and some boots,” he said as he stepped ahead to hold the door. “The prettiest girls always seem to hang around with the cowboys.”
“Those could be your granddaughters,” Vicki told him. The noise intensified suddenly as they went through.
“Even better. . . . Which reminds me, have we heard anything more about what Karen’s doing?”
“Yes, she’s definitely moving to Dallas. It might be a bit sooner than she thought, though.”
“Um.” Keene stood looking around. The dance floor was filled, and a mostly male crowd was clustered in the vicinity of the bar. It wasn’t going to be easy to get a booth or a table in the front lounge. Keene looked across to the far side. “Maybe we could go through into the restaurant,” he said. “They look as if they’ve got more room in there. I never thought to ask, have you eaten?”
“I did earlier—but I could use something with a drink, sure.”
They made their way through the bar and dance area to the restaurant and grabbed a corner table just as another couple were vacating it. A waitress came to clear the dishes and give them menus, announced that she was Julie, and took an order for drinks. Keene decided he wasn’t up to a full meal or in the mood for a burger. The steak sandwich sounded good. Or maybe something lighter, like a salad. . . . “I suppose we get the recitation about the specials when she gets back,” he said, scanning the Mexican section. “Have you ever noticed? They don’t listen. `I’m Julie, your server. How are you today?’ And if you say, `Suicidal,’ it’s, `That’s nice. Our specials are . . .’ I’ll show you when she gets back. . . . But I guess it’s not really surprising when they have to say it probably a hundred times a day.” There was no response. He looked up and realized that Vicki wasn’t listening either, but was staring past him with a strange, fixated look on her face. “Hello?” he said. “Anyone home?”