“Do you really think it might be possible?”
“It has to be,” Altai insisted. “With Okatar gone now, who knows what will happen next?”
“The next step,” Vorgens muttered, half to himself, “probably depends on us.”
She said nothing, but sat back and watched his face as he thought over the alternatives.
Suddenly Vorgens got up from his chair and strode to the communicator on the wall near the door. He punched out a call number on the directory buttons. The exec’s face showed up on the viewscreen.
“Please send my compliments to the commander of the relief ships in orbit,” the Watchman said, “and ask him to delay landing the troops until full daylight at Capital City. The troops are to be landed just outside the city. And your idea about running the shuttles an extra few times to impress the Komani sounds good. Keep the landing ships running all day.”
“Yes sir,” the exec replied, grinning.
“And another thing—I want an aircar for tomorrow morning, with a volunteer pilot. The car must be painted white.”
Thus the boldest step of all in the struggle for Shinar was begun.
Vorgens should have been surprised to see Giradaux standing at attention beside the white-painted aircar, but somehow he was not,
“You volunteered to pilot me?” the Watchman asked as he stepped up to the craft. He spoke softly enough so that the officers and men standing nearby would not overhear.
“Yes sir,” Giradaux answered, looking straight ahead. “I wanted to—well—to make up for what I said yesterday, sir.”
Vorgens nodded. “I understand.”