She nodded, then after a second or two asked, "Does that mean I can’t see Niels?"
Pacey bit his lip. The chance to learn more was tempting, but could he trust her? He thought for a few seconds, then replied, "If you can keep your mouth shut about what you heard and what you’ve said. And if anything else unusual happens, let me know. Don’t go playing at spies and looking for trouble. Just keep your eyes and ears open, and if you see or hear anything strange, let me know and nobody else. And don’t write anything down. Okay?"
She nodded again and tried to grin, but it didn’t work. "Okay," she said.
Pacey looked at her for a moment longer, then spread his arms to indicate that he was through. "I guess that’s it for now. Excuse me, but I’ve got things waiting to get done."
Janet got up and walked quickly to the door. She was just about to close it behind her when Pacey called, "And Janet . . ." She stopped and looked back. "For Christ’s sake try to get to work on time and stay out of the hair of that Russian professor of yours."
"I will." She managed a quick smile, and left.
Pacey had noted for some time that, like himself, Sobroskin seemed excluded from the clique that revolved around Sverenssen, and he had come to believe increasingly that the Russian was playing a lone game on behalf of Moscow and merely finding the UN policy expedient. If so, Sobroskin would not be a party to whatever information Janet had caught a snippet of. Unwilling to break radio silence on Thurien-related matters with Earth, he decided to risk playing his hunch and arranged to meet the Russian later that evening in a storage room that formed part of a rarely frequented section of the base.
"Obviously I can’t be sure, but it could be the Shapieron ," Pacey said. "There seem to be two groups of Thuriens who aren’t exactly on open terms with each other. We’ve been talking to one group, who appear to have the best interests of the ship at heart, but how do we know that other people back here haven’t been talking to the other group? And how do we know that the other group feels the same way?"
Sobroskin had been listening attentively. "You’re referring to the coded signals," he said. As expected, everybody had denied having anything to do with them.
"Yes," Pacey answered. "We assumed it was you because we know damn well it isn’t us. But I’m willing to concede that we might have been wrong about them. Suppose the UN has set up this whole thing at Bruno for appearance’s sake while it plays some other game behind the scenes. They could be stalling both of us while all the time they’re talking behind our backs to. . . I don’t know, maybe one Thurien side, maybe the other, or maybe even both."
"What kind of game?" Sobroskin asked. He was obviously fishing for ideas, probably through having few of his own to offer just then.
"Who knows? But what I’m worried about is that ship. If I’m wrong about it I’m wrong, but we can’t just do nothing and hope so. If there’s reason to suppose that it might be in danger, we have to let the Thuriens know. They might be able to do something." He had thought for a long time about risking a call to Alaska, but in the end decided against it.
Sobroskin thought deeply for a while. He knew that the coded signals were coming in in response to the Soviet transmissions, but there was no reason to say so. Yet another oddity had come to light concerning the Swede, and Sobroskin was anxious to follow it through. Moscow wished for nothing other than good relations with the Thuriens, and there was nothing to be lost by cooperating in warning them by whatever means Pacey had in mind. If the American’s fears proved groundless, no permanent harm would result that Sobroskin could see. Either way, there was no time to consult with the Kremlin. "I respect your confidence," he said at last, and meant it, as Pacey could see he did. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want to use the Bruno transmitter to send a signal," Pacey replied. "Obviously it can’t go through the delegation, so we’d have to go to Malliusk directly to take care of the technical side. He’s a pain, but I think we could trust him. He wouldn’t respond to an approach from me alone, but he might from you."
Sobroskin’s eyebrows raised a fraction in surprise. "Why did you not go to the American girl?"
"I thought of it, but I’m not convinced she’s reliable enough. She’s too close to Sverenssen."
Sobroskin thought for a moment longer, then nodded. "Give me an hour. I’ll call you in your room then, whatever the news." He sucked his teeth pensively as if weighing up something in his mind and then added, "I would suggest taking things easy with the girl. I have reports on Sverenssen. He can be dangerous."
They met Malliusk in the main-dish control room after the evening shift was over and while the astronomers booked for the night were away having coffee. Malliusk agreed to their request only after Sobroskin had consented to sign a disclaimer stating that the action was requested by him, acting in his official capacity as a representative of the Soviet Government. Malliusk locked the statement among his private papers. He then closed the control room doors and used the main screen of the supervisory console to compose and transmit the message that Pacey dictated. Neither of the Russians could understand why Pacey insisted on appending his own name to the transmission. There were some things that he was not prepared to divulge.
Chapter Fifteen
Monchar, Garuth’s second-in-command, was visibly tense when Garuth arrived in response to the emergency call to the Shapieron’s Command Deck. "There’s something we’ve never seen before affecting the stress field around the ship," he said in answer to Garuth’s unvoiced question. "Some kind of external bias is interfering with the longitudinal node pattern and degrading the geodesic manifolds. The gridbase is going out of balance, and ZORAC can’t make sense of it. It’s trying to recompute the transforms now."
Garuth turned to Shiohin, the mission’s chief scientist, who was in the center of a small group of her staff, taking in the information appearing on a battery of screens arrayed around them. "What’s happening?" he asked.
She shook her head helplessly. "I’ve never heard of anything like this. We’re entering some kind of spacetime asymmetry with coordinates transforming inversely into an exponential frame. The whole structure of the region of space that we’re in is breaking down."
"Can we maneuver?"
"Nothing seems to work. The divertors are ineffective, and the longitudinal equalizers can’t compensate even at full gain."
"ZORAC, what’s your report?" Garuth called in a louder voice.
"Impossible to construct a gridbase that couples consistently into normal space," the computer replied. "In other words I’m lost, don’t know where we are, where we’re going, or even if we’re going anywhere, and don’t have control anyway. Otherwise everything’s fine."
"System status?" Garuth inquired.
"All sensors, channels, and subsystems checked and working normally. No-I’m not sick, and I’m not imagining it."
Garuth stood nonplussed. Every face on the Command Deck was watching and waiting for his orders, but what order could he give when he had no idea what was happening and what, if anything, could be done about it. "Call all stations to emergency readiness and alert them to stand by for further instructions," he said, more to satisfy expectations than for any definite reason. A crewman to one side acknowledged and turned toward a panel to relay the order.