UHLRICH’S QUARTERS
Professor Uhlrich looked in McClintock’s direction, seeking some clue, some hint of hope, that the man understood how important, how crucially vital, the work of the Farside Observatory was.
It was like gazing at a frosted window: he could discern nothing but the opaque surface. Uhlrich knew from the level of McClintock’s voice how tall the man was, and the information from his dossier and various net sites said he was a strikingly handsome man in his early thirties. Uhlrich’s visual cortex drew a picture that vaguely suggested a vid star from many years earlier.
McClintock knows how to keep his thoughts hidden, Uhlrich realized. The man just sits there saying nothing, knowing that he has the power of life and death over the Farside Observatory, over me, myself.
At last he asked McClintock, “Is it absolutely necessary to keep Simpson at Selene?”
McClintock started to reply, hesitated, then answered, “He’ll only be there a day or so. If you want Cardenas to help you, we should keep Simpson reasonably close to her.”
The man understands nothing, Uhlrich thought. Patiently, he tried to explain, “With Mr. Henderson incapacitated, I need Simpson here to direct the technical crew. They must take apart the mirror frame so it can be shipped to Dr. Cardenas’s laboratory. I need Simpson here to direct them.”
“Couldn’t one of the other—”
“No,” Uhlrich said flatly. “Simpson. He’s the only one who can get the job done. The others are not equal to the task. Believe me, I know them well.”
“None of them?”
Struggling to remain calm despite McClintock’s obtuseness, Uhlrich replied, “You saw how lacking the man Oberman is. I’ve tried others before him: None of them were competent enough to head the technical team. Simpson is my last hope—unless I could hire someone else from Selene. Or perhaps even from Earth. But that would be expensive.”
McClintock said, “You know, Simpson has his own problems.”
“It’s rumored that he’s a drug user, I know.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me!” Uhlrich snapped. “But what choice do I have?”
“There’s no one else among your entire technical team that can handle the work?”
Dolt! thought Uhlrich. I’ve told the man twice that I need Simpson here and he still doesn’t understand.
“Mr. McClintock,” he said, very slowly, as if speaking to a child, “you don’t seem to realize how limited we are here. I have a mere fifty-some engineers and technicians—even less than that now, with Henderson out of action. They must run the mirror laboratory, do all the construction work out on the surface, and all the other technical tasks that are necessary. There are another eighteen specialists struggling to construct the Cyclops radio telescope array. Eighteen people! Eight dozen would be barely enough.”
McClintock shifted in his chair but said nothing.
“Selene’s governing council has given us only the barest minimum of funding,” said Uhlrich.
“Which is why you need help from the trust,” McClintock said, finally understanding.
“Which is why I need help from the McClintock Trust,” Uhlrich echoed. “Yes.”
“Well … as I said, Simpson can’t be in two places at the same time.”
“He is needed here. He can maintain contact with Dr. Cardenas over phone links.”
“I suppose so,” McClintock said doubtfully.
“Then it is settled,” said Uhlrich. “Simpson returns here at once.”
Sounding reluctant, McClintock said, “I’ll tell him so.”
“Good.”
McClintock seemed to understand that he was being dismissed. Uhlrich sensed him taking a final sip of his scotch, then getting up from the couch. The professor stood up beside him, barely as tall as McClintock’s shoulder.
The two men walked to the door and shook hands.
“Thanks for the drink,” McClintock said unenthusiastically.
“You are entirely welcome,” said Uhlrich, with equal warmth. “I hope we can work together fruitfully.”
“So do I, Professor.”
McClintock left and Uhlrich slid his door shut, leaned against it for a moment, then threaded his way back to the chair he’d been sitting in. He found his wineglass, drained it, then brushed his fingers along the tabletop until he found McClintock’s tumbler. The professor carried both glasses to the dishwasher in the kitchenette.
As he slipped the glasses into the half-full machine, Uhlrich thought, Simpson is the key to everything. He’s the only one who can get those technicians to do their jobs properly. He may be dependent on the medications he takes, but as long as he gets the job done I don’t care if he eats dogs and drinks vinegar. I need him!
The professor went to his desk and sat wearily in its little wheeled chair. He called up the latest data on the Sirius system and told the computer to display it in the audio mode.
“Sirius C will begin transit number thirty-eight in thirty-two hours, seven minutes, and fourteen seconds,” the synthesized voice began.
The planet will pass across the blazing face of the Dog Star, Uhlrich understood. From the minuscule dip in the star’s brightness, the planet’s size could be calculated to a finer precision. My new assistant, this young woman, Dr. Yost, will do that, he thought. Then he remembered that he had ordered her to report to his office again at 0730 hours.
I’d better get to bed, he told himself.
Simpson, he repeated silently. He’s the key to getting the work done. And McClintock: he’s the key to getting the funding to carry out the work.
Uhlrich shook his head as he began to get undressed. A drug user and a spoiled rich brat. He sighed, thinking that it was almost criminal that the great things he wanted to achieve depended upon such people.