“According to the satellite record,” said Secretary Haight, “this picture was taken over a year ago. That’s well before the original Discovery was announced and certainly well before you saw fit to report to us that you had met aliens in your personal backyard.”
They had plenty of time to study the confusion on Helen’s face, how her jaw began to work back and forth, how she had to struggle to still it, the way her hand trembled as it lifted to brush one white lock of hair back behind her ear.
But, in the end, Helen lifted her gaze and spoke firmly. “I am sure you are aware that our satellites record thousands of hours of images in a single year. We do not have the personnel or the computing power to analyze all of them carefully.” She glanced down at the photo’s caption and her voice took on an added measure of calm assurance. “This was not of an area under active study. It bears a close resemblance to a land feature known as a ‘tick.’ Like the vast majority of all our satellite imagery, it was filed for later study.”
“But you must see it from our point of view, Dr. Failia.” Secretary Kent had a smile on her face. She was once again, all innocence, all righteousness. All for the cameras and public record. “This looks a little strange.”
“A scientific inquiry is not a political or legal inquiry, Secretary,” Su said smoothly. “Particularly from a privately funded project. The researchers must concentrate on areas most likely to yield interesting or useful results. As Dr. Failia said, this”—she gestured at the photo—“appeared to be a common Venusian land feature. Nothing to excite additional inquiry. A review of Venera’s work practices can certainly be arranged for another time. What is most important now—”
“Is that we understand exactly what our position with regard to these aliens is,” said Secretary Haight, cutting Su off. “And to do so, we need to know the truth about how long the Venerans have been in contact with them and exactly what they’ve been negotiating.”
When the question reached her, the color drained from Helen’s face. “And when we have established this, then what?”
Secretary Haight looked at her as if Helen had just missed something glaringly obvious. “Then Venera Base will be placed under the direct control of the Colonial Affairs Committee, which will oversee personnel assignments and all other requirements pertaining to the alien dialogue.”
The words crept the long, slow way to Venus. Helen’s face remained frozen and paper white. “I see,” was all the reply that returned.
“You are not being accused of anything yet, Dr. Failia.” Secretary Kent’s voice was soothing, almost sweet with reassurance. “We are merely asking for clarifications.”
“I see.” Without another word, Helen’s representation vanished.
Su stared at the empty box, along with everyone else. She looked mutely up at the Secretaries and the committee and then back at the box.
“A recess, please, Secretaries, committee members.” Su got to her feet. “Surely there’s been an outside interruption in communications from Venus.”
The Secretaries gave their assent. It was still being seconded as Su turned and hurried out of the chamber, the sounds of her footsteps echoing off the marble walls.
What does she think she’s doing? Su ground her teeth as she marched across the lobby. This is not productive. She could be cited for contempt. She could be arrested….
What if she doesn’t care?
Su staggered and caught her balance against a marble bench. She sat down heavily, as if pushed bodily by her thoughts.
This might have done it. They had attacked Helen’s integrity, her management of her people and her world. It might have been enough. After all the work and the caution and the planning, this confrontation might have pushed Helen over the edge into rebellion.
Su took a deep, slow breath. “Oh, Helen,” she whispered. “Oh, Helen, my friend, be careful.”
Michael watched as Helen slowly, deliberately, removed the assembler rig goggles and set them on her desk. She blinked at them a moment before she could make herself look up again and focus on Michael and Ben.
“That,” said Michael mildly, “was probably not extremely productive. They’re going to haul you down there for contempt.”
“Then they are going to have to come and get me.” She pulled the gloves off, one finger at a time.
“Helen…” began Michael. A cold sensation crept through him as he watched her eyes. This was not Helen angry. This was not even Helen furious. She had gone past those emotions into some new world, and he wasn’t sure how to pull her back.