Finn pressed helmet to mine. “Can’t lift now. And can’t talk. Doubt they can make hull tight enough to live without p-suits. What say we let her sit a few days and see if they come out? If they don’t, then can move a heavy drill up here and give ’em real dose of fun.”
Decided Finn knew how to run his show without my sloppy help, so went back inside, called Mike, and asked for capsule go out to ballistic radars. He wanted to know why I didn’t stay inside where it was safe.
I said, “Listen, you upstart collection of semi-conductors, you are merely a minister-without-portfolio while I am Minister of Defense. I ought to see what’s going on and I have exactly two eyeballs while you’ve got eyes spread over half of Crisium. You trying to hog fun?”
He told me not to jump salty and offered to put his displays on a video screen, say in room L of Raffles–did not want me to get hurt. . . and had I heard joke about drillman who hurt his mother’s feelings?
I said, “Mike, please let me have a capsule. Can p-suit and meet it outside Station West–which is in bad shape as I’m sure you know.”
“Okay,” he said, “it’s your neck. Thirteen minutes. I’ll let you go as far as Gun Station George.”
Mighty kind of him. Got there and got on phone again. Finn had called other warrens, located his subordinate commanders or somebody willing to take charge, and had explained how to make trouble for grounded transports–all but Hong Kong; for all we knew Authority’s goons held Hong Kong. “Adam,” I said, others being in earshot, “do you think we might send a crew out by rolligon and try to repair link Bee Ell?”
“This is not Gospodin Selene,” Mike answered in a strange voice, “this is one of his assistants. Adam Selene was in Churchill Upper when it lost pressure. I’m afraid that we must assume that he is dead.”
“What?”
“I am very sorry, Gospodin.”
“Hold phone!” Chased a couple of drillmen and a girl out of room, then sat down and lowered hush hood. “Mike,” I said softly, “private now. What is this gum-beating?”
“Man,” he said quietly, “think it over. Adam Selene had to go someday. He’s served his purpose and is, as you pointed out, almost out of the government. Professor and I have discussed this; the only question has been the timing. Can you think of a better last use for Adam than to have him die in this invasion? It makes him a national hero . . . and the nation needs one. Let it stand that ‘Adam Selene is probably dead’ until you can talk to Professor. If he still needs ‘Adam Selene’ it can turn out that he was trapped in a private pressure and had to wait to be rescued.”
“Well– Okay, let it stay open. Personally, I always preferred your ‘Mike’ personality anyhow.”
“I know you do, Man my first and best friend, and so do I. It’s my real one; ‘Adam’ was a phony.”
“Uh, yes. But, Mike, if Prof is dead in Kongville, I’m going to need help from ‘Adam’ awful bad.”
“So we’ve got him iced and can bring him back if we need him. The stuffed shirt. Man, when this is over, are you going to have time to take up with me that research into humor again?”
“I’ll take time, Mike; that’s a promise.”
“Thanks, Man. These days you and Wyoh never have time to visit. . . and Professor wants to talk about things that aren’t much fun. I’ll be glad when this war is over.”
“Are we going to win, Mike?”
He chuckled. “It’s been days since you asked me that. Here’s a pinky-new projection, run since invasion started. Hold on tight, Man–our chances are now even!”
“Good Bog!”
“So button up and go see the fun. But stay back at least a hundred meters from the gun; that ship may be able to follow back a laser beam with another one. Ranging shortly. Twenty-one minutes.”
Didn’t get that far away, as needed to stay on phone and longest cord around was less. I jacked parallel into gun captain’s phone, found a shady rock and sat down. Sun was high in west, so close to Terra that I could see Terra only by visoring against Sun’s glare–no crescent yet, new earth ghostly gray in moonlight surrounded by a thin radiance of atmosphere.