Free Colossus by D. F. Jones Page A

we all know, but Colossus must be anxious to know more. Hell, it makes a big difference to the defense picture. So it wants to know more, and the shortest way it can think of is to damn well ask.”
    Cleo jumped as the teletype started. Forbin, who was reclining in an easy chair, did not move.
    “I guess that will be a repetition of the same message,” he said.
    Cleo looked at the machine and nodded, then called the CPO. “OK, Professor Forbin has got that one.”
    “Hold on,” called Forbin. “Tell Johnson to make ‘message acknowledged.”’
    Cleo passed the order.
    “As I expected.” There was a trace of complacency in his voice. “Is it half an hour since the first run?”
    “Yes, exactly thirty minutes between the two.” Cleo was glad to see her boss confident, though it was a confidence she did not entirely share.
    “I expect we’ll get another repeat in another half-hour—time for that snack, Cleo.”
    She disappeared into the kitchenette and quickly returned with a plateful of food which Forbin attacked with gusto. Watching him eat, Cleo said, “I hope you’re right about Colossus’ intentions—”
    Forbin stopped eating and gave her a long stare. “I hope I am too; my faith is pinned to those parameters. Colossus is a cleverer bastard than we had intended, but he is behind bars—he’s got to be!”
    Cleo thought she detected a glint of fear in his eyes. Slight, but enough to convince her that he had pulled himself together and was doing his best to present a calm, confident front to the world, at the same time probably clinging desperately to the idea that there was nothing to worry about because the alternative was too impossible to contemplate.
    “What are you going to do about Washington?” she asked in a conversational tone.
    “If my guess is right, we get another repetition in—” he glanced at his watch—”precisely nineteen minutes. Still leaves me time to call within the hour.”
    He had still not indicated what he intended doing, and Cleo was not going to press the point, especially as she had been quite unable to think of anything constructive. She watched him finish his meal, then got up to make coffee.
    Forbin was halfway through his second cup when the phone rang. It was Fisher, reporting that thus far they had been unable to account for the FLASH, that they were still working on it, and what did Forbin intend doing about this demand for transmitter facilities?
    Forbin replied, “Keep the duty watch going on the FLASH, that’s the key to the whole thing. Leave the message to me. I expect it to be repeated in ten minutes—I’ll call you then.”
    It was precisely one hour after the first transmission when the teletype clattered into action once more. Forbin nodded, and flashed a triumphant grin at Cleo.
    “Even if I don’t know why or how, at least I’m beginning to know the way its mind works—check the message, Cleo.” She looked at the latest message carefully. “Identical with the other two.”
    “Good.” Forbin nodded again. “Call CPO and tell them to acknowledge it.”
    Cleo did as she was told, then her anxiety and curiosity overcame her caution. “What now, Charles? You can’t keep this up forever.”
    “I don’t intend to,” replied Forbin. “I’m waiting to see if there is any reaction, and if nothing happens in the next five minutes, I’ll make a move.”
    They waited in silence. Cleo sat bolt upright on her sofa, trying hard to keep her hands still in her lap. Forbin appeared outwardly calm, filling his pipe, but spoiled the illusion when he tapped the tobacco out into an ashtray without first smoking or even attempting to light the pipe. At four and a half minutes he got up and went over to the phone.
    “CPO? Make this now, begins—NO FACILITIES AS REQUESTED AVAILABLE TONIGHT SERVICE CREW ASLEEP ACTION WILL BE TAKEN TEN THIRTY LOCAL TIME TOMORROW DO NOT REPEAT REQUEST—ends. Got it? Right.”
    Cleo looked anxiously at Forbin. “You’re