“Did you know that, Brad?”
“Uh . . . ? What?”
“What Sheila just said—about the big stir-up at ACRE.”
“Stir-up?”
“Walt’s been saying he thinks there are big changes in the offing,” Sheila told him. “Some big new project connected with scientific outfits all over the place . . . Moonbases . . . Some people somewhere out in California. Stuff like that.”
“Oh . . .” Clifford’s tone made light of it. “Yeah—I heard one or two things.”
“Never told me,” Sarah said.
“Just rumors,” he murmured vaguely. “I didn’t take a lot of notice.”
“Walt doesn’t think they’re just rumors,” Sheila added. “He thinks a few of the top guys at ACRE have been interviewed for jobs on it . . . top scientific guys.”
“Him too?” Clifford tried to sound less interested than he was but couldn’t prevent himself from half sitting up as he spoke.
“I don’t think so . . . at least, if he has, he hasn’t said. The project’s supposed to be very secret—security and all that stuff. But he figures there’s going to be a major reshuffle right down through ACRE. All kinds of promotion prospects for everybody . . . That’s what he’s interested in. He could use a change.”
“Well nobody’s talked to me about it,” Clifford declared, falling back again to gaze up into the sky. “When somebody does, I’ll tell you about it. Until then it’s just rumors.”
But there was anger burning in his eyes. Harems, he had somehow suddenly decided, were strictly for other times and other places.
Chapter 7
“Mode 3 with positive phi. Again all the even terms of the k-spin function come out zero. How about that?” Aub stared out of the screen in Clifford’s den and waited for a response.
“What’s he talking about?” Sarah whispered from the chair that she had pulled up next to Clifford.
“They’ve been running more experiments at Berkeley,” he whispered back. “It looks as if more of the theory’s predictions are coming out okay. It’s fantastic news.” He looked back at the screen. “That’s great, Aub. Sustained rotations are real then, eh? How about mode distribution frequencies?”
“Well, we haven’t done a lot of tests yet, so the statistical data’s still pretty thin, but from the figures we’ve got it looks as if it might check out fine. I’ll keep you posted on that; we’re scheduling another run for tomorrow.”
“I’ll call you again tomorrow then, okay?”
“Great, man. See ya.”
“S’long Aub.” Clifford slipped an arm round Sarah’s shoulder and gave her a compulsive hug as he switched off the terminal. “Everything’s working out fine, baby,” he said, laughing. “We’re gonna be famous yet.” She brought her hand up and squeezed his fingers reassuringly. Her mouth smiled but she kept her eyes averted. In his excitement Clifford had momentarily forgotten their conversation with Sheila Massey, but Sarah hadn’t.
The following evening Aub called in again.
“Man, we have news!” he announced jubilantly. “Another couple of positive tests today and mode distributions as predicted. The statistics are still from a small sample, but it’s looking good. Opinion here is starting to firm up that the theory is well on its way to being validated.” His expression changed to a frown. “Surely they must have told you about it at ACRE by now?”
Clifford shook his head.
“But Jeez . . . they sure know about it,” Aub protested. “We’ve been sending the data through all along. . . . I know for a fact that that guy Edwards is up-to-date. Why are you of all people being kept in the dark, for Christ’s sake?”
“Don’t ask me, Aub,” Clifford said wearily. “Maybe I’ve told them too often what I think of their system. But there’s no way they’re gonna make me live in nice straight lines.”
“So what’s bugging you? You wanted out and you got out. Sounds like it’s okay.”
“I just feel I might have something to contribute,” Clifford answered with a trace of sarcasm. “On top of that, I just don’t trust them not to screw the whole thing up somehow. You know how their minds work . . . or don’t. They’ll sure as hell find a way.”