As was his way, Vorse spent little time on preliminaries. “We’re still getting intermittent messages claiming electrical disturbances blanketing communications with Earth. What’s come through has been from Zeigler or his staff. Nothing from Gallian for four days now. With the sudden blackouts from Trojan and Eskimo too, I’m suspicious. It’s all too much to be a coincidence.”
It wasn’t the first time Urzin had heard such thoughts. A number of people in the higher levels of Congress and the Directorates were talking about a Pragmatist coup with a lot of Security Arm involvement. More than one had criticized him for allowing the SA too much power and freedom at a time when their real reason for existing had passed. He had seen it as a needed safety valve for unsettled youth and the more adventurously disposed, but on reflection conceded that he might have been too trusting. The Security Arm had presented an opportunity that Terran political interests couldn’t pass by, and Terran politics simply wasn’t something that Urzin pretended any instinct for anymore than did most Kronians. Leo Cavan had probably discerned the risk sooner than anyone. But few had listened to him back then.
“Yes, I’m aware of the concerns, Mylor,” he said. “In fact, I was intending to call a meeting of the Triad and inner policy heads, including yourself, to go over it. The problem right now, to be quite frank, is knowing where anyone’s true sympathies might lie. I have a feeling it’s a lot more complicated than we might have thought.”
“I appreciate that,” Vorse said. “But in the meantime, there’s the question of the Aztec. If there has been some kind of a takeover on Earth, Aztec will be bringing them just the things they need to consolidate and build a solid foothold there. I’d like your approval to call it back for now, pending developments.”
“Are we still in normal communication with Aztec?” Urzin checked.
“Yes. A routine update came in from Commander Reese a couple of hours ago. There’s no reason I can see to suspect anything amiss there.”
Urzin thought for a moment. It suggested that whatever might be happening with the other ships, at least they could trust Reese. “Isn’t recall a bit drastic?” he said. “Why not let them continue until they reach the vicinity of Earth, but with orders to stand off until further instructions before initiating any contact?”
Vorse pursed his lips. “Just that if there is a hostile situation there, they’d be a long way from home and isolated from any help before they found out.”
“But then look at it the other way around,” Urzin suggested. “If there is something going on out there, they could represent the only help capable of making a difference right now. Why think of them as just a passive resource to be acquired? Why not a potential active asset?”
“They’re a supply ship,” Vorse replied. “What could they do if weapons like the ones that disappeared from Rhea have found their way there? And I don’t have to tell you what would be involved if Trojan shows up.”
“I’m not sure what they could do, exactly,” Urzin said. “But I have infinite trust in human resourcefulness. One thing I do know is that they can’t do anything if they’re nowhere near. And precisely because they are such a valuable asset, I don’t think the danger to them would be all that great. I’d prefer we do it the way I said.”
Vorse drew a deep breath, obviously still far from happy, but nodded shortly. “Very well, Xen. I’ll beam Reese accordingly.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Away from the base and the presence of human works, and now removed even from the confines of the cab and its tiny preserved world of familiar things, the land took on a surreal quality, a feeling of being partly the stuff of dreams. As with the newly formed landscape that he had viewed via the probe over New York, it was the absence of trees that struck Keene the most—or indeed any kind of mature growth or shaping of the land that could be recognized as the work of time. The hills were bare humps of sediment left by the receding oceanic floods, beginning to show scatterings of grass and other vegetation over the upper slopes, but with denser growths still hugging the valleys and hollows. He tried to picture the immense walls of advancing water, miles high in some places, that had been capable of bringing this about in weeks or even days. To the east, beyond the marshes and the broken foothills on their far side, the dark lines of the mountains were new and sharp. Overhead, the gray veils of the sky stood twisted in huge, inverted canyons, revealing briefly in places even a hint of watery blues. It was a young, primeval world once again, arising and taking form out of fresh origins. Keene was reminded of the words he had heard quoted by Reynolds, a Special Forces trooper in the group that had escaped from Mexico, and also a devout Baptist, while they watched the devastation of Earth from orbit: “Go forth and multiply and repopulate the Earth.” Their significance hadn’t fully struck Keene, even then.