Death Wave by Ben Bova Page B

time lag of about an hour, but I can arrange for your technical experts to speak with our communications technicians, our astronomers, whoever you wish.”
    â€œAnd they’ll answer our questions.”
    Aditi nodded. “We will hold nothing back. We want to be fully cooperative.”
    â€œI see,” Halleck murmured.
    â€œHow soon could we start communicating?” Castiglione asked.
    â€œRight away. Today. Now.”
    Halleck eased back in her plushly cushioned desk chair. “Very well,” she said, “we’ll begin right now. Rudy, why you don’t take Mrs. Kell to meet our communications engineers?”
    Castiglione looked surprised. “Now?”
    â€œNow,” Halleck answered. “My administrative assistant, in the outer office, will set up the meeting for you.”
    With a questioning expression on his handsome face, Castiglione got to his feet, then offered his arm to Aditi. “Come, lovely lady. We will astound some of the world’s top communications experts.”
    Jordan pushed himself up from his chair, but Halleck said, “Please stay, Mr. Kell. We have to discuss this matter of building the starships you want.”
    Jordan stood uncertainly for a moment, then reached out for Aditi’s hand. “I’ll see you later, dear.”
    Aditi smiled at him. “Later,” she half-whispered.
    Halleck said, “She’ll be perfectly all right, Mr. Kell. Rudy will take good care of her.”
    As Jordan sank back into his chair he thought, That’s what I’m worried about.

 
    BARCELONA
    Once Aditi and Castiglione left her office, Halleck called for two Council members to join her and Jordan: Janos Rudaki, the former astrophysicist, and Deborah Adler, an Austrian-born economist.
    The four of them sat around the oval conference table, ostensibly to discuss building starships.
    Rudaki reminded Jordan of a badger: compact, strong, dark. His suit looked as though it hadn’t been pressed in years; his thick mop of black hair seemed uncombed.
    â€œI have a personal interest in this,” he said in his slightly rasping voice. “My daughter is still on New Earth. Perhaps, if she will not return here, I might go to see her.”
    Halleck said firmly, “You have responsibilities here, on the Council, Professor.”
    Rudaki waved a hand. “It’s about time for me to retire, don’t you think?”
    â€œNo. Decidedly not. I want you reelected next year, not some interloping newcomer.” And she looked directly at Jordan.
    â€œIt’s nice to be wanted,” Rudaki muttered.
    Jordan kept his silence.
    Deborah Adler was considerably younger. Tall and full-figured, she was wearing a drab gray calf-length dress, without any jewelry nor makeup that Jordan could detect. Yet she still looked appealing, somehow. Is it the sadness in her eyes? Jordan wondered. She seemed almost like a little lost waif, on the verge of tears. But so would I be, I suppose, Jordan told himself, if I were descended from people who’d been driven from their homeland by the Nuclear Holocaust.
    She was an economist, according to Halleck. A sad woman whose field of study was the so-called dismal science, Jordan thought, watching her.
    â€œI can call up the cost figures for the vehicle we sent to Sirius,” she said, her voice low but steady. “I don’t recall the exact amount, but it was close to four billion international dollars.”
    â€œI should think we could do better,” Jordan said. “After all, we have access now to the energy screens that Aditi’s people have developed.”
    â€œBut they are not propulsion systems,” Rudaki pointed out.
    â€œThe basic technology can be adapted for propulsion,” said Jordan. “We should consult Mitchell Thornberry about that. I believe he and his people are already looking into the propulsion question.”
    â€œThornberry?” Halleck asked.