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Doc. "You know," she said, "I've always thought of Florida as a good
experiment in cooperation:
you have all the advantages of being part of the United States, but the
freedom to follow your own principles."
He looked at her in amusement, but without removing her arm. "Yes, that is
true. I wonder, though, how well the experiment would work if we Floridians
did not have our own National Guard and Air
Force."
Brigadier Morrisey would have preferred a quiet table for two, but there
weren't any tables like that in the Kourou officers' mess. They wound up at a
table for six, sharing it with Colonel duValier and some people on the launch
controller's staff. They seemed to be old friends of
General Delasquez, though there was something in their gently mocking tone
that Hilda did not quite understand. Then Colonel duValier explained: "When
our friend Martin was here before it was
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0Siege%20Of%20Eternity.txt under something of a cloud, Brigadier. We borrowed
him from the Floridians to brief us on what we could expect when we visited
your Starlab, since he had been there himself. Of course, then we discovered
that there was not much truth in what he told us."
Delasquez said stiffly, "I told you what I thought was so. I did not know that
my mind had been tampered with."
"But of a certainty," the colonel agreed. "We did not know that you were
transmitting information to our enemies, either. We did not even know that we
had enemies! Or else we would have put you in a cage like the one this
malodorous Doc we are taking with us is in."
"Dr. Artzybachova says the only way to be sure the Docs aren't transmitting
information is to make sure they don't get any," Hilda put in. "Of course,
that policy got blown when they were at the
UN."
General Delasquez sniffed. "Dr. Artzybachova," he said in a dismissing tone.
"You don't like her?"
"I have no opinion at all about the woman. I saw her briefly on the launch,
and then she died."
"That one died, right," Hilda said, nodding. "But the one that's here now, she
says you-the other you-and she were great friends as captives of the
Scarecrows."
Delasquez looked uneasy. "I have thought about that," he admitted. "But since
that other copy of myself is not here, I am not bound by any relationships he
may have assumed. She is a type of woman I do not care for."
"What type is that?" Hilda asked. He shrugged without answering, but she
didn't really need an answer. She had already diagnosed General Delasquez's
own type: authoritarian male, which meant sexist pig. It was a type that she
had always enjoyed encountering, on official business or in the boudoir.
The woman from the controller's staff diplomatically changed the subject. "So,
Brigadier Morrisey, are you ready to explore outer space?"
Interoffice Memo: The Eurospace rocket. Classified.
Page 120
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
The "LuftBuran" was built from a German design with German money, but using
Russian facilities and labor. The French didn't like the name. They wanted to
call it the "Ariane 9," but when that was turned down they settled for naming
a French astronaut as chief pilot.
"Of course," Hilda said, politely enough. "In fact, I wish it would happen.
How long are we going to have to wait here?"
"That's not my decision. The LuftBuran is nearly fueled, and all the supplies
are already stowed.
As soon as the crew is ready we can go."
"I'm ready now," Hilda declared, digging into the fish course that one of the
waiters had placed before her. She didn't recognize the fish. There were two
of them, quite tiny, but delicious;
evidently Colonel duValier had made his wishes known to the kitchen staff.
They had reached the cheese course when carryphones began beeping all over the
mess hall. "What is happening?" Delasquez asked irritably.
The woman from the controller's staff was already answering hers, and when she
turned to look at them her face was pale. "That object that was approaching
Earth? It is a spacecraft. It has been observed to make a burn, and its new
course will impact the Earth."
The cheese boards sat abandoned on every table, rounds of perfect Camembert,
slabs of bleu and
Brie.
There was no one left in the room to eat them. Everyone had flown to the
briefing room, where
Colonel duValier had a phone to his ear and an eye on the wall screen.
Hilda stared at the pictures. After all the searching, not one of Earth's
giant telescopes had had its instruments bearing on the incoming object. That
was left to the smaller ones, and so they had been the ones that were dazzled
when the object emitted a stream of fire. Beside her Martin
Delasquez muttered something in Spanish, but when she asked he said it in
English for her benefit.
"It is a braking burn," he said. "They are preparing for reentry."
"But what is it?" someone asked. No one tried to answer. Everyone was thinking
the same thoughts, though, for they had all heard the stories the captives
brought back of Scarecrow vengeance that dropped KT-type asteroids on the
planets of their enemies, wiping them out as thoroughly as the
sixty-five-million-year-old impact not far from where they were standing had
wiped out the dinosaurs.
Hilda could not help a small shudder. Then someone cried, "Look at the other
screen!"
It was displaying a series of numbers-orbital elements, Hilda supposed, though
the digits meant
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a globe of the Earth, with a great oval of pink light overspreading a
west-to-east area from Baja California almost to the African coast.
"That is its landing footprint," Delasquez said tautly. "When it makes final
course corrections it can strike anywhere in that area. If you notice, we are
inside it here in Kourou."
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