Free Oblivion by Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch Page B

telescopes’ time was carefully parceled out to scientists and researchers all over the globe. Now the crisis took precedence, and Britt found her orderly life in complete disarray.
    “I hope this damn thing starts on time.” Yolanda Hayes, the president’s science adviser, walked into the room. She had her dark hair pulled away from her face, and she was wearing minimal makeup. When Cross had first met her—what seemed like years ago, but was actually only seven months before—she was one of the most stylish women he had ever seen. She still wore the clothes, but the details were gone: no painted nails, no lipstick. It was as if she no longer had time for anything but the essentials. “I feel like I’m coordinating an army.”
    “Maybe that’s because you are.” Jesse Killius, the head of NASA, followed her into the room. Jesse looked more tired than Cross had ever seen her.
    “I guess.” Hayes smiled, but the smile was small. “My job used to be committees and advice. I never expected to coordinate a nationwide research effort in so many different areas.” “None of us did,” Shane said. “At least we have the information about most of the nation’s scientists at our fingertips.” Hayes nodded. “I’m just worried that we don’t have enough.” No one answered her. It was the fear they all had, on various levels, and it really had nothing to do with their areas of expertise. It had to do with the aliens, the tenth planet, and the fact that they were in the lull between storms they didn’t entirely understand.
    “I can’t believe Clarissa’s the one who’s late,” Killius said. “She had her aide call me last night to remind me about this.” “She’s balancing too much,” Shane said. “She probably shouldn’t even be in this meeting anymore.”
    “I’m glad she is,” Cross said. “She’s still representing the president.”
    At that moment the door slammed back and General Clarissa Maddox strode into the room. She was a powerfully built woman who wore her general’s uniform like a shield. Her back was so straight that Cross sometimes wondered if it had been surgically altered.
    She took her seat and nodded to the group. “I see I’m just in time for the uplink,” she said, which was probably the only acknowledgment she would make of being late.
    “Coffee, General?” Shane asked.
    Half a smile crossed Maddox’s face. “Right now, I’m subsisting on the stuff. I’d love some.”
    Shane got up, went to the refreshments table, and poured her a cup. Even though there were pastries on the table as usual, no one had taken any.
    The two flat vid screens were already down. As the clock hit 1 p.m., images appeared in various comers: the Japanese representatives, the European representatives, the Africans, and the newest members, the Chinese. Most of the groups were sitting at long conference tables like the U.S. group was, and Cross was surprised that he knew the rooms in those faraway lands as well as he knew this room here. In fact, it almost seemed as if the rooms were somewhere in this building, in parts he hadn’t been to yet.
    The customary greetings in the various languages echoed. The official language of the Tenth Planet Project was English, partly because it had become the language of science, and partly out of deference to the Americans, who were the ones who first put this meeting together. But the greetings were always in the native tongues, and it was a custom no one wanted to forgo.
    When the formalities were done, General Maddox sighed so softly that only those at the U.S. table could hear her. Then she smiled, a businesslike smile that had an edge of weariness to it.
    “I have a personal announcement first,” she said.
    Cross stiffened. Britt put her hand on his arm. Here it comes, Shane mouthed. Apparently he thought what they all were thinking: they were going to lose the general.
    “I’ve been asked to leave the Project,” Maddox said, her voice strong.
    Shane