"And the Seven?"
Wei Feng looked about him, then back at Li Shai Tung. "In this the Seven shall do as Li Shai Tung decides."
AS THE DOOR at the far end of the room hissed open, steam billowed out into the corridor beyond. Berdichev shivered but stood straighter, his skin still tingling from the shower.
An armed guard stood there in the doorway, head bowed, a clean silk pau folded over one arm. Behind him stood two Han servants who, after a moment's hesitation, entered the room and began to dry Berdichev with soft towels. When they had done, he went over to the guard and took the full-length gown from him, pulling it on and tying it at the waist.
"You have my charm?"
The guard's head moved fractionally, but remained bowed. "I'm sorry, Excellency. I was given only the pau."
Berdichev huffed impatiently and looked up at the overhead camera. Moments later an official appeared at the far end of the corridor and hurried to him. The man bowed deeply, his face flushed with embarrassment, and held out one hand, offering the necklace.
"My humble apologies, Excellency. I did not understand."
Berdichev took the silver chain and fastened it about his neck, closing his hand over the smooth surface of the charm a moment. The impertinence of these little men, he thought, making a mental note of the official's number—so prominently displayed on his chest—before he waved him away. Then he waited as one of the two Han brought him antistatic slippers while the other combed and plaited his hair. Only then, when they were finished, did Director Clarac make his appearance.
Clarac embraced him lightly and then stepped back, smiling pleasantly, his appearance and manner the very model of elegance and charm. Berdichev smiled tightly and gave the barest of nods in response to Clarac's respectful bow. As ever, he was of two minds about Clarac's value to the project. He was a good front man, but the real work was done by his team of four assistants. Clarac had only to step out of line once and he would be out, family connections or no.
Clarac's voice oozed warmth and friendliness. "Soren! It's a real delight to have you here as our guest."
Yes, thought Berdichev; but I'm the last person you expected to see up here today. I bet you were shitting your elegant white pants when you heard I was here. Even so, Berdichev was impressed by what he had seen. The defenses about The New Hope left nothing to be desired. Nor had he had any reason to complain about the security measures surrounding visitors to the base. He had been forced to undergo the full body-search and decontamination procedure. And when he had tried to bully the guards into making an exception in his case, their officer had politely but firmly stated that there could be no exceptions— hadn't S/uh Berdichev insisted as much?
"Shih Clarac," he answered, distancing the man at once and subtly reminding him of their relative status. "I'm delighted to be here. But tell me, what are you doing about the spy camera?"
Clarac's momentary hesitation was telling. He was a man who prided himself on having everything at his fingertips, but he had not counted on Berdichev's directness. Clarac was used to social nicety. It was how he functioned. He approached such matters slowly, obliquely, over wine and sweetmeats. But Berdichev had no time for such "niceties."
"We know about the remote," Clarac answered, recovering quickly. "In fact, if you'll permit me, Shih Berdichev, I'll take you to our tracking room."
Berdichev nodded tersely and walked on, not waiting for Clarac, who had to hurry to catch up with him.
"And that gap in your defenses—the blind spot on darkside— how do you account for that?"
Clarac did not hesitate this time. "Our defense experts have assured me that nothing of any real size could get through undetected. The blind spot, as you call it, is a mere thirty degrees of arc. Our central sensors would detect any ship coming in from five thousand li out. In any case, no one would come from that direction. There's nothing out there. You would have to orbit the moon in a one-man craft to get into position. And who would do that?"
Berdichev stopped and stared at him a moment. "Even so—" "Besides which," Clarac added quickly, facing Berdichev, "there's the question of cost. To extend our defense satellite system to cover the darkside channel would cost a further one hundred and twenty million. The budget is already two hundred and eighty-five percent over original costings. Our investors are justifiably concerned."
"And if one man did just what you say is impossible and slipped in on the darkside?"
Clarac laughed. "If he did it would make no difference. Every air lock is linked to Central Security. There are seals at every level. And more than a thousand security men guarding the outer shell alone. The inner shell is a self-sufficient unit which can be cut off at once from the outer shell. As the engines and life-support systems are there, there's no possibility of them being under threat. No, the only way the Seven could get at The New Hope would be to try to blow it out of the sky from below. And we've designed our defense system to prevent just that possibility."
Berdichev sniffed, then, satisfied, nodded and began to walk on. Beside him Clarac began to talk about the progress they had made, the difficulties they had overcome, but Berdichev was hardly listening. He had seen the reports already. What he wanted were answers to some of the things they might not have thought of. He wanted to make certain for himself that nothing had been overlooked.
In the tracking room he took a seat at the desk and listened while Clarac explained the system. But all the time he was looking about him, noting things.
Interrupting Clarac he pointed to the screen which showed the remote spy camera. "You're certain it's not a weapon?"
Clarac laughed. A laugh which, to Berdichev's ear, was just a touch too self-confident.
"WeVe scanned it thoroughly, of course. There's an engine unit at the back of it and a whole system of foils and antijamming devices, and though the central core of it is lead screened, our experts have calculated that there's barely enough room for the camera unit, let alone any kind of weaponry." "Unless theyVe developed something new, eh?" Clarac looked at him and gave a slight bow, understanding that he would be allowed nothing today. He would need answers for everything.
"I've assumed that that might be the case. Which is why I personally ordered that the thing should be tracked twenty-four hours a day. IVe two lasers trained on the aperture constantly. At the smallest sign of unusual activity they'll blow the thing apart." "Before it can damage The New Hope?" "The lasers are set for automatic response. The remote would be blasted out of the sky in less than a fiftieth of a second."
Berdichev turned his head and looked at Clarac, for the first time letting a brief smile signal his satisfaction.
"Good. I want nothing to stop The New Hope from making its maiden flight three months from now."
He saw the surprise on Clarac's face, followed an instant later by a broad smile of unfeigned delight. "But that's excellent, Shih Berdichev! That's marvelous news! When did the Seven agree to this?"
"They haven't. But they will. Very soon now. By the week's end there will be a proposal in the House. We're going to push them on this one, Clarac. We're going to make them fulfill the promises they made three years ago. And then we'll push some more. Until there's a whole fleet of these ships. You understand me? But this is the first, the most important of them. The New Hope will break their stranglehold. They know that and they'll try to prevent it—but we must preempt their every move. That's why it's so important things are right up here. That's why I came to see things for myself."