We’d be throwing every last penny into our own effort. But because the toxin is in fact going to work…”
“But it’s not,” said Stephanie. “Gerry already said so.”
The mayor turned to Mitch. “Should I go into specifics, Mitch? Just so we can convince them?”
“If you think it will help.”
“So you got a drop?” said Gerry.
“Correcto-mundo, my friend. As a matter of fact, we received it at 0500 hours this morning.” The famous self-immolating grin came to the mayor’s face. “Listen to me. I’m starting to talk like them.”
“And what’s my brother got to say for himself this time?”
“Ah…now Gerry, I’m not a technical guy.”
“I thought you said you worked for AviOrbit.”
“I did. In public relations.”
“Then just give me…” The mayor’s phrase came back to haunt him. “The gist of things.”
The mayor raised his eyebrows. “All I know is that they’re going to fool the phytosphere in some way.
It’s the old ace up the sleeve. The old switcheroo. Something like that.” The mayor squinted as he concentrated harder. “Was it…hydrogen sulfide?” He shook his head. “Jeez, all that chemical stuff. I don’t know how you guys keep it straight. Anyway, they’re going to flimflam the phytosphere somehow.”
He turned to his assistant. “Damian, didn’t we make a note of the specifics somewhere?”
The mayor’s young assistant looked up from his waferscreen. “They’re going to starve the phytosphere of its carbon dioxide supply by fooling it with hydrogen sulfide.”
Gerry thought it through and was able to put the rough idea together. Neil was going to use hydrogen sulfide as a carbon dioxide substitute—fool the phytosphere into thinking it was getting the right nutrient, and thereby starve it of the same. It was an ingenious idea. Of course it was ingenious—his brother was no slouch.
Yet he still had doubts. “I hope it works. But I don’t think we should sit around and wait to see if it does. Mitch, if Ira won’t go for another Smallmouth, at least get him to go for the infrared array.
Because as much as my brother’s idea sounds like a good one, the Tarsalans might find a way to neutralize it. We’d be fools to stop our own research and put our eggs into Neil’s basket.”
He looked at the mayor, then at Mitch, and he saw that he had made at least some small impact.
The mayor turned to Mitch. “Tell Ira that we’ll partially underwrite the infrared array if we can later incorporate it as part of the tourist attraction at the Alleyne-Parma Observatory.”
Mitch nodded, the expression in his eyes like the flat line on a heart monitor. “I just hope he doesn’t go rhetorical on me again.”
17
Neil and his family sat huddled in the back of an armored limousine heading through the dark streets of Miami. They were leaving town. Many buildings were now gutted. Others continued to blaze. The fire department was nowhere in sight. He heard the rumble of their escorting Morrison fighting vehicles outside the car. A priority family. At least they were getting the hell out of here. At least the powers that be finally understood they couldn’t stay in Coral Gables anymore.
Would it work? His mind circled back to the question of the hour. Would the omniphage munch through the carapace, and would the compound then mimic carbon dioxide appropriately? In the lab, yes. But in the phytosphere itself? The whole thing left him unsettled.
They soon reached the highway and traveled south.
Halfway to Homestead, he got a call. On his phone. The phone.
Secretary of Defense Sidower sounded tired but satisfied, his voice rough, as if he were recovering from a cold. “We’ve launched, Neil. South Dakota went first. Then Texas. Then Guam. Florida should be
next. You might see a few missiles from where you are. I can’t tell you how goddamned relieved we are.
I’ve read your reports. So has the president. I know we’re going to beat this thing.” Then, after a pause, he added, “You’ve done it again, Neil.”
Here it was, the basic integer of his life—people in power telling him he had done good. Yet he couldn’t help thinking of Kafis, the Tarsalans’ chief scientific envoy, his Tarsalan counterpart, and how Kafis, on his many visits to Marblehill, had always surprised him with peculiar ways of looking at things, and of thinking about things—as if the alien could rotate a problem in his mind, view it from all sides, and see every possible permutation and variation. The chess game. Was he going to win? Or was he going to lose?
“I think the hydrogen sulfide thing is sly enough to beat them.”
“I think so too.”
“It’s just a question of understanding the way they think. I’m lucky in that I’ve had many one-on-one sessions with Kafis. I know how sly he can be. He’s always seven steps ahead of the obvious. But I think the hydrogen sulfide is eight steps ahead.”
“If you’re going to beat a Roman, you have to think like a Roman.”
“Yes. And I think I’ve come to a real understanding of the… the Tarsalan mind-set.”
“I wish I could say the same, Neil. He’s a formidable adversary.”
“As formidable as Kafis can sometimes be, I don’t think he necessarily views the phytosphere in an adversarial context.”
“If the phytosphere isn’t adversarial, I don’t know what is.”
“As I said to the president, it’s a teaching tool. Or at least that’s the way I think Kafis views it.”
“Right,” said the secretary. “The cinerthax, or whatever you call it. The only thing it’s taught me is how to hate them more than I already did.”
“Hating an enemy and understanding one are two different things.” Neil felt he had to expand. “Children on the Tarsalan homeworld don’t live with their parents. They live with their teachers.”
The secretary of defense considered this. “I always hated school.”
“Kafis tells me the quest for knowledge is like a religion on Tarsala. Whenever he came to Marblehill, he was always trying to teach me things. Particularly with a variety of Tarsalan games. He says that in harmless games, especially where strategy is involved, we can learn a great deal about ourselves. From a military standpoint, that’s something you should keep uppermost in your mind.”
“And does Kafis think the phytosphere is a harmless game?”
“All I’m saying is that he understands things best through teaching protocols. They all do.”
“Then I guess we’re teaching them a lesson.” The secretary paused. “How soon can we expect to see some light?”
“Our best estimate is forty-eight hours. Maybe sooner.”
“And you’re sure it will start in alpha bloom first?”
“Yes.”
“Because it… it can’t come soon enough, Neil.” Sidower hesitated. Neil braced himself for yet more bad news. “Never mind the civilian side of things, I’m talking about the military.” It was like a personal admission of failure.
“Is the president safe?”
“He’s in lockdown.”
“And the vice president?”
“In a secure location in Key West.”
“And the president pro tem?”
“We’ve lost the president pro tem,” said Sidower. “He was assassinated in his home state. We think by Western Secessionists. It’s a tough thing, being a federal democrat in the West right now.”