“Concerning a giant weapon in remote Solar orbit?” Matthias scoffed. “To revive an impolite word, lunacy.”
“I didn’t—Lilisaire didn’t necessarily mean that—”
“She’d like it. For her personal gain. Judging from your account, she’s let slip no hint to many of her fellow magnates, if any.”
“Sir, I’m not asking for—I wouldn’t condone—”
“But you are hoping for a way to keep the Terrans on Earth.”
“Not even that, sir, not in itself. Is it right to suppress information relevant to a matter as important as this? A decision made in ignorance could cost lives later on. I’m sorry if—if I—”
Matthias gusted a sigh. “Don’t apologize. No reason to. No such knowledge exists.”
“None?” Kenmuir protested.
“Lars Rydberg brought a secret home to.Earth, yes,” Matthias said heavily. “He charged his eldest son with preserving it against a possible hour of great need. It has gone down the succession ever since.” That was not by descent, although every lodgemaster had some Rydberg blood. “This is as much as the world has been told. I will not be the one who betrays it.”
Kenmuir saw adamantness. “Can you give me any hint?” he pleaded. “If nothing else, can you tell me Lilisaire was mistaken and it could not help her?”
The old man nodded. “Yes, I believe I can truly say that.” Again he sighed. “By now, after all the time that has passed, I wonder if it means anything whatsoever. We keep the faith, we Rydbergs, simply because this is one more tradition, rite, bond holding the Trothdom together, so a ghost of Fireball Enterprises can haunt living memories. ., . I’m the one who’s sorry, son.” Abruptly Kenmuir felt wrung dry. “I see. Thank you, sir.”
“It was never a real hope for you, was it?”
“I suppose not.”
“What will you do?”
“Report back.”
“You’re welcome to call from here.”
“Thank you, but—”
“Ah. You want encryption?”
“Well, actually, I was to call a number on Earth, but—a secure line—”
“Tell me no more. For groundside communications, we have good security. Now and then, you know, the outfit gives aid to a consorte whose trouble is best kept confidential.”
Overwhelmed, Kenmuir mumbled, “Sir, when you’re opposed to my whole purpose—”
“Not entirely. I don’t approve of the government concealing possibly critical information either. But mainly, you’re a consorte yourself. I owe you troth.” The gaze was keenly gauging. “I trust you not to break yours.”
After a moment: “If you’re not in too big a hurry, let’s have another drink. And dinner. Spend the night. I’d like to hear you yarn about where you’ve been.”
No, Kenmuir thought, assuredly he would -not violate his oath. He would follow Lilisaire’s next instructions as best he was able, to the point where he saw them leading toward a public menace. He did not expect they would. She ought to know him better than that. But he must stay wary. Events might flare out of control. And always—he harked back to his classical reading—the Lunarian spirit was Lucifer’s.
Seen from the Taurus Mountains, Earth hung low in the southwestern sky. Its crescent was thinning with the sun’s slow climb over eastern ridges. Shadows had shrunken across the bench where the Beynacs were encamped, but still picked out uncountable pock-marks in the level grayish rock. Above and below, the slope was likewise scarred, as were the heights around. Not yet lighted, the valley beneath lay as a lake of blackness. All contours were gentle, worn down by the meteoritic rains of gigayears, nothing here of Terrestrial crags or Martian steeps, an aged land withdrawn into itself and its secrets.
For Dagny the view, like everything on Luna, had splendor. Maybe the very bareness uplifted her heart, a challenge. At the moment she was giving it no thought. Her attention was for Tychopolis, some 2700 kilometers hence.
Joe Packer’s face confronted her, clear to see through the new-model fishbowl helmet that topped his spacesuit. Its hyalon had self-darkened at the back against sunlight which would have blasted his eyes had he glanced straight and unprotected in its direction. The big holoscreen showed an excavator at work behind him, hazed in the dust it continuously stirred up. The images weren’t perfect. No fiber-optic cable ran to these man-empty parts; a satellite relayed. The pictures were adequate for practical purposes.