Free McCollum - GIBRALTAR STARS by Michael McCollum Page B

impressive. That is our particular CSS — Critical Skill Shortage. We need artists. In fact, we can’t get enough of them. There are 162 artists currently on staff and they never seem to be enough.”
    “Why do you need artists, Lee?” she asked, “What are you doing, painting a mural that girdles the globe?”
    He laughed. “Nothing so mundane. We have a strategy… a trick; as it were… that we hope will sow confusion among our adversaries. It isn’t even a new trick. In fact, it was first used more than three thousand years ago.”
    “A trick?” she asked, her brow furrowing in a combination of frustration and curiosity. She wished he would just get on with it!
    “Can’t you guess? You saw the statue in the courtyard.”
    She shrugged. “Some sort of a horse.”
    “A Trojan horse.”
    That was, she realized, where she had seen the statue before. It was the horse from the last holo remake of Troy some thirty years previous.
    “I’m sorry, but now I am really confused.”
    “No problem. A few more preliminaries and it will all become clear. Have I piqued your curiosity?”
    She nodded. In truth, he had
    The work screen on Pembroke’s desk lit as he pivoted the display so that she could see it. On the screen was a scroll-list of text. It floated above the stylized horse figure in the background, with glowing crimson TOP SECRET banners emblazoned top and bottom.
    “Please read the statement and then acknowledge your agreement with your thumb print.”
    It was a non-disclosure form, but one unlike any she had ever read. As she scanned each line, the built-in sensors in the screen observed her eye movements and automatically scrolled the document to keep pace with her reading. When she reached the end, she looked up to see Pembroke staring intently at her.
    “Is this serious, Lee?”
    “As the life and death of our species.”
    “If I reveal what you are about to tell me, you will throw me in prison for life ?”
    “Life plus a decade, just to make sure. We take security very seriously around here.”
    “I’ve noticed. So far this has been something from out of an old war movie. Where did you copy your system from, the old atom bomb project?”
    “As a matter of fact, that was one of our sources.”
    “It does seem… anachronistic. I wasn’t aware that there were Broan spies on Earth.”
    “One only and we have him locked safely away where he won’t bother us again. The fences, the guards, the agreement in front of you, are all intended to keep our secret from our own people rather than from our enemies.”
    “Why? Do you think there are more traitors like that one who helped our Broan captive escape a few years ago?”
    “It’s certainly a possibility. As an early American philosopher once said, ‘No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the public.’ But no. Our primary concern is that people won’t understand if they learn of our efforts here and at a dozen other sites around the globe.”
    “Wouldn’t understand what, Lee?”
     “Affix your thumbprint, and I’ll explain it to you.”
    “And if I choose not to?”
    “Then it is back to Albuquerque for reassignment. I think I can guarantee your next assignment will not be to your liking.” As he said it, she noticed that his jovial manner had slipped and the eyes that peered back at her seemed hard as diamonds.
    Susan hesitated for a moment, and then pressed her thumb against the screen. The screen beeped and the agreement disappeared, to be replaced by an egg-shaped spacecraft of a type unfamiliar to her.
    “This,” Pembroke said, gesturing at the screen, “is our Trojan Horse.”
    “What is it?” she asked.
    “The world’s smallest starship. It has full stardrive and normal drive capabilities, although it doesn’t have much range. It would have trouble reaching Alpha Centauri on a single energy charge. Still, since it isn’t intended for our Navy, that doesn’t matter.”
    “Then whose navy is it