“I don’t care how difficult things have become.”
“But, you see, at present I am unable to reach the ones who could give permission. Just at present, that is to say.”
“Everything’s ‘just at present,’ “ Jimmy Lin sneered, and Dannerman, looking at the stack of food packages, had a comment of his own:
“You must expect us to be here for a long time.”
“That is also not for me to decide, but the reason for the large quantity is that I do not know when I will be able to get more.
I have said this. Now we must deal with the urgent matters. Do you have any questions about the announcement made by your Colonel duValier?”
Dannerman was surprised that that was the “urgent” business, but it was Pat who spoke up. “We’ve got plenty of questions, but they’re not about Colonel duValier. For instance, these ‘Horch’ the colonel talks about in what you transmitted to the Earth. Are they related to the problems you’re having?”
Dopey didn’t answer immediately. Dannerman expected him to thrust his paws into the muff and go again into the thinking-it-over trance, but he merely looked pained-as much as a kitten face can look pained. Finally he announced, “There is a disjunction here. You are correct in one respect. The Horch are indeed responsible for our problems, because they are evil. They have performed acts of terrorism which have caused great hardship for us. You will understand what terrorists are like, Agent Dannerman, from your own experiences with Colonel Hilda Morrisey. The Horch are criminals in much the same way as your human terrorists, but far more dangerous than any you can imagine. However, you have made a false assumption.”
“Which is?” Dannerman demanded.
“That message has not been transmitted. The reason for that is that Colonel duValier has not yet arrived on Starlab.”
“Hah!” Jimmy Lin shouted. “I knew it! It was a damn simulation.”
“The problem was not understood,” Dopey admitted. “It will be corrected.”
Something was bothering Dannerman. He asked, “Why bother with simulating somebody who isn’t there? If you wanted to send a message that seemed to come from a human being, why not use one of us?”
Dopey hesitated again. “That would not be effective,” he said, and would not say why. The only subject that he seemed willing to discuss was what their reactions had been to the message, and when they began asking questions in return-what would be in the second message? What other languages would it be delivered in?-he did not respond at all.
Not until, at a venture, Pat asked, “Are we in personal danger from these Horch?”
That made Dopey pause to think once more. “At this time, no,” he said at length.
“Oh, fine,” Patrice muttered. “You’re making me feel all cuddly warm and protected.”
“I understand you. That is sarcasm, meaning the opposite,” Dopey said. “You will, however, be protected.”
“By you?”
“I? No, of course not I. That protection will come from a far more advanced race than my own.”
“Meaning,” Dannerman asked, “those odd-looking scarecrows we saw on TV?”
Dopey winced. “That was an unfair picture our enemies transmitted. The Beloved Leaders come from a light-gravity planet and thus are rather frail in physique.”
He paused as Jimmy Lin made a sound of disgust. “ ‘Beloved Leaders,’ “ Lin sneered.
Dopey looked inquiring. “Your tone of voice indicates disapproval,” he said.
“You damn bet it does! ‘Beloved Leaders’ is what the old Koreans called their dictators. That’s not a good name, Dopey.”
“Thank you,” the alien said. “That too is useful, although I am not sure that a change will be permitted. At any rate, because of their evolutionary heritage the Be-the persons in charge, that is, would not be on a planet of this mass.”
“So they’re not really going to be around to save us?” Jimmy Lin demanded in alarm.
But that was one question too many. Dopey evidently had what he had come for. Without farewell, he turned and disappeared into the mirror, which re-formed seamlessly behind him, like a puddle of mercury closing over a stone.
Dannerman stared after him for a long minute, though there was nothing to see but his own reflection in the wall. He was puzzling over something, and it showed. “What’s the matter?” Pat demanded. “You still wondering why he showed us that message?”
“Actually no,” Dannerman said. “I think that’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it? He’s using us to be his sneak-preview film critics, getting our reactions before he puts the thing on the air. No, it’s something else.” He hesitated for a moment. Then, “Tell me something, Pat. When we were talking I mentioned Hilda to you, didn’t I?”
“Sure. Your boss in the Bureau. I remember.”
“But did I ever say her last name? No, I didn’t think so. So how did Dopey know that it was Morrisey?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dan
So Dannerman had one more puzzle to add to his collection. He was certain he’d never mentioned Hilda Morrisey’s last name, and the Bureau did not advertise the names of its personnel. And it was not information that could be picked up from the monitored broadcasts.
But Dopey had known it.
In fact, Dopey seemed to know quite a few of the things they had never spoken aloud. How? There was one easy answer to that: Someone might have been sloppy in concealing some of the notes as they read them or passed them around. But that didn’t explain Hilda Morrisey, and Dannerman didn’t believe it anyway. What he believed was that Dopey possessed sources of information they didn’t know about.
Whatever those sources might be.
He snorted in disgust-muffled quickly, because he didn’t want Pat, or any one of the Pats, to come over to see what was bothering him. That had happened twice already, and he had waved them away. He wished he didn’t have to. He wanted badly to talk it over with the others, because someone else, Rosaleen maybe-well, any of them-might have a clarifying insight he had missed. But if even the eyes-only note-passing was compromised, they would simply be giving more information to Dopey, or Dopey’s masters.
Would that matter? Would that sort of information be useful to them? Dannerman could form no satisfactory answer to that, either, but it was simple basic tradecraft to deny as much information as possible to the enemy, and-
His thoughts were interrupted by a new sound. Something had begun squealing shrilly, somewhere. When Dannerman raised his head he saw Patrice holding the helmet in her hand, looking puzzled. “I think it wants something,” she said.
“It wants one of us to put it on, of course,” Rosaleen said crossly. “Give it to me.”
Evidently she was right. As soon as she had it settled on her head the beeping stopped. By then most of the others had converged around her, clamoring to know what she was hearing. Rosaleen didn’t take the helmet off, only held up her hand and said, “Relax. It’s basically the same message, but with a few- improvements. Give me a moment.”
“Then this time we do it in alphabetical order, remember?” Pat reminded them. “Pat comes before Patrice or Patsy, so I get the first look.”
Jimmy Lin emitted a long, exasperated sigh, Martin muttered something that sounded obscene. Dannerman only waited; he was as impatient as anyone, but he accepted the fact that it would go faster if they didn’t argue. When all four women had had a look-each looking puzzled, even faintly disappointed, when they were finished-his turn came. As soon as the helmet was on his head and the eyepieces in place the figure of the French astronaut popped into being and began to speak. “Messieurs et mesdames, “it began, “je m ‘appelle Colonel Hugues duValier, peut-etre vous me connaissez, et je suis-“And then the French language was drowned out by another voice, overriding the colonel with unaccented American English:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Colonel Hugues duValier. Maybe you know me; I am an astronaut at present in orbit on the astronomical satellite known as Starlab. I have a message of the greatest importance for everyone on Earth-“
It was the same message as before, but reworked to remove their objections. The colonel wasn’t risking any distractions to his audience by speaking in many tongues; there was a simple voice-over, the same thing viewers heard on any newscast anywhere in the world. The phrase “Beloved Leaders” was still there, but modified to: “they are called ‘Beloved Leaders,’ but we can know them simply as the forces which have so far-and very successfully!-born the brunt of the attack.” When Delasquez and Jimmy Lin had had their turns Dannerman asked about languages, just to clear up one final point. The answers were the same as before, Ukrainian for Rosaleen, American English for Dannerman and the Pats, Spanish for Delasquez and Chinese for Jimmy. “But this time,” Rosaleen said, “the Ukrainian was all Ukrainian. They corrected some of the Russian words.”