“I’m sorry, Dr. Keene, but I can’t connect you. You’re name isn’t on the cleared list.”
Keene was flabbergasted. “What? But that’s ridiculous. I was one of their guests. . . . I mean, I’ve been there. You put me through yesterday.”
“A restricted policy is in force now. I’m not authorized to give you access.”
“But, but . . . they’re personal friends of mine. This is insane. I demand to speak with Gallian, head of the Kronian delegation there.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Keene, but I have strict orders. I can give you the number of my superior if you wish.”
Keene noted the number but sat staring at it for several minutes after he hung up. Deciding he had better things to do than get involved in arguments with layers of officialdom he tried Sariena’s personal number, only to get a recording: We’re sorry, but the number you have called, 202-555-3325, is not currently in service. If this appears to be in error, please check with the directory or press 611 for assistance.
His apprehension rising, he clicked to his own directory and retrieved the off-surface code to connect with the Osiris. A jarring tone told him the channel was unavailable. Now certain that something was wrong, he punched in the digits for the long-distance operator.
“I’m sorry, sir, but that service is temporarily discontinued,” she advised.
“What do you mean, discontinued? It’s the trunk beam up to the Kronian spaceship that’s in orbit. I’m a personal acquaintance of the captain.”
The robotlike voice repeated, “I’m sorry, sir, but all I can tell you is that the service has been temporarily—”
Keene cut the connection with a snarl, pounded the arm of his chair, and sat staring exasperatedly at the screen for several seconds. Then he rose to his feet, paced over to the door and back, glowered at the screen some more, finally turning for the door and storming through into the corridor just as Vicki was coming out of her own office on the other side. “Oh, not again,” she groaned, stepping back a pace to stay out of the way.
Keene strode through into the reception area, where Karen was helping Celia check some figures. “Karen, look up the numbers for Leo Cavan of SICA and track him down, wherever he is, would you? I need to talk to him now, right away, maintenant, jetzt, ahora, adesso. If you can’t find him, find Herbert Voler.”
“Lan, what are you doing now?” Vicki asked despairingly as he turned to head back to his office.
“There’s something strange going on,” he told her. “I don’t like the feel of it. I can’t get through to the Kronians or their ship. There are two kinds of people that they won’t let you talk to: ones who don’t want publicity, and prisoners. The Kronians came eight hundred million miles to try and get publicity. So what does it tell you?”
* * *
Karen got through to Cavan ten minutes later on a permanently open personal code that he had given Keene, only to be used in emergencies. He was on his way to a meeting in the SICA offices and had to keep things brief. “I’m not sure what’s going on, Lan,” he said. “Something’s in the wind here, but nobody’s talking. I do know it goes all the way to the top. There’s an information blackout in force, which obviously includes the Kronians. Even I haven’t been able to get access to Gallian this morning. Somebody doesn’t want the world talking to them. It was ordered by a security official in the middle of the night. But what seems significant to me is that it’s still being applied. It hasn’t been rescinded.”
“It’s more than just an attempt to stop them leaving in such a hurry, then,” Keene concluded, which had been his first thought.
“It would be a pretty drastic way of going about it,” Cavan agreed.
“Any guesses?”
“I’m afraid not. For once in your life, you have me at a loss, Landen.”
Keene drummed his fingers on the desk and hesitated. “The other thing might be to try Idorf,” he said, finally. “If it involves their plans or something to do with Saturn, he’d know about it, surely.”