Eater by Gregory Benford

Benjamin sought out Channing and embraced her with a fervor that surprised him.
    Channing sensed the soured mood of the men and quickly deflected it with drinks of mango and papaya and rum, amid soft Japanese music, all counterpointed by the wind chimes in their back garden. The air seemed layered with fragrances and talk ran to island gossip. But then she wanted to be kept up on the gossip and it all came out.
    “I don’t think you fully appreciate why I acted,” Kingsley said at last, once the describing was done.
    “You bet I don’t,” Benjamin shot back. He had been holding his tongue because the last few hours had drastically shifted the power balance between the two men, and he was unsure how to deal with it. “Neither does Martinez.”
    “She does not know my methods, but you, with our ancient association, might have guessed my intention well before I was ready to reveal it.”
    “I’m afraid I’m being sidelined after the first few plays.”
    “That will not happen, I assure you.” Kingsley sat back and wrapped both hands around one knee, leaning back asthough to relieve knotted muscles. He carries tension that way, same as me , Benjamin thought. But doesn’t show it in the face or voice .
    “I’m pretty damned mad.”
    “With good reason, given what you know. Let me say I appreciated your not giving voice to that at the Center. It would have done no good.”
    Channing had let them go through the first quick rush of it, their words coming out in machine-gun volleys. Now she made a show of fetching some nibble food, leaving them with a lingering observation: “I’m impressed that a U.S. agency will spring so quickly on the advice of a Brit astronomer.”
    “I’ve been functioning as a sort of scientist-diplomat since well before the Astronomer Royal appointment,” Kingsley called after her. “My good fortune that I’ve made the right contacts.”
    “I admire your understatement,” she called from the kitchen.
    “Why not tell me?” Benjamin demanded, irked at her cavalier nonchalance at this whole abrupt maneuver.
    “Because it would have compromised a delicate transition.”
    Benjamin sat back and crossed his arms, demanding, “Explain. Better be good, too.”
    “I’ve been asking people around the world to work on this intruder problem, sending e-mails and calling—any idea why?”
    “To get them involved?” Channing ventured when Benjamin just shook his head. “So these U Agency types would have to come in?”
    “Dead right. I want this controlled by the United States, not by some United Nations committee.”
    Benjamin nodded. “A nation can act quickly, a committee, never.”
    “And there’s more, isn’t there?” Channing bore in on Kingsley, leaning forward, her hostess skills giving way to her professional ones.
    “You could always spot my motives,” Kingsley laughed. “The U Agency fellows will pull in some ‘foreign advisers’ right away.”
    Benjamin saw it. “And the people you e-mailed the most, brought into the discussion earliest—”
    “They’ll be the ones recruited.” Kingsley smiled.
    “And the astronomers I saw today working for the Agency—”
    “Exactly. They were brought in the traditional way, a consultancy for a sum they could scarcely decline.”
    “They know what we’re doing?”
    “Of course. Some have been monitoring our work—which impresses them, I’m happy to say—since the first week.”
    Channing said, “You make it sound like moving chess pieces.”
    Kingsley looked reflective. “I suppose it is. All done very diplomatically, of course, through all the proper channels. I was afraid I was being a bit obvious, but so far Arno has not caught on.”
    “You believe,” Benjamin said, sitting back and gazing up at the hard, bright stars visible through the softly rattling fronds of palm trees.
    “I wanted bright people here, people I knew from my work. Screens are going to start coming down soon, I’ll wager.”
    “Really?”