The Forge of God Read Online Free PDF Page B

his assassination in Mexico City in August of 1994. Vice President William Crockerman had been sworn in on a train in New Mexico, and had immediately moved to place his own stamp on the White House, replacing most of the Cabinet with his own choices. Three months after the swearing—in, the new chief of staff, Irwin Schwartz, had told Arthur, "No little green men, no lost ships off Bermuda… might as well go home, Mr. Gordon."
    "Is he going to make you science advisor?" Harry asked. "Kick out that idiot Rotterjack?"
    Arthur shook his head, grinning. "He's forming a special presidential task force."
    "Australia," Harry said, nodding sagely. He put down his glass of orange juice without taking a sip, braced as if for an assault, his eyes fixed on the salt and pepper shakers in the center of the table. "Great Victoria Desert."
    Arthur was not surprised. "How much do you know?" he asked.
    "I know it was found by opal prospectors and that it's not supposed to be there. I know that it could be a virtual duplicate of Ayers Rock."
    "That last part isn't quite true. It differs substantially. But you're right. It's recent, and it shouldn't be there." Arthur was relieved to know that Harry hadn't heard of the incident much closer to home.
    "What do we have to do with it?"
    "Australia is finally asking for advice. The Prime Minister is going public with a report in three days or less. He's under some pressure."
    "Little green men?"
    "I can't even comment on that until I've asked you the questions, Harry."
    "Then ask," Harry said, still braced.
    "The President has put me in charge of the civilian science investigation team. We work with the military and with State. You're my first choice."
    "I'm a biochemist. That means…"
    Arthur shook his head slowly. "Hear me out, Harry. I need you for biochemistry, and as my second-in-command. I'm pushing for Warren from Kent State for geology, and Abante from Malibu for physics. They've agreed, but they have to go through political examination."
    "You think I'd pass Crockerman's political pop quiz?" Harry asked.
    "You will if I insist, and I will."
    "You need a biochemist… really?"
    "That's the rumor," Arthur said, his grin widening.
    "It would be lovely." Harry pushed his chair back with only half his eggs and one sausage eaten. "Old friends, working together again. Ithaca would agree. Hell, even if she didn't… but…"
    "There will never be another chance like this;" Arthur said, emphasizing each word as if he were putting some essential point across to a dunderhead student.
    Harry wrinkled his forehead, staring up at Arthur. "Dupres at King's College?"
    "I've asked for him. He hasn't answered yet. We may not be able to get extranationals on the team."
    "I wouldn't turn you down lightly," Harry said. Arthur saw his friend's eyes were red. He appeared close to tears. "You need somebody reliable."
    "What does that mean?"
    Harry looked out the window, hand tensing on a fork handle, relaxing. "I just told Ithaca three weeks ago."
    Arthur's face became placid, clear of all the excitement he had exhibited seconds before. "Yes?"
    "Chronic leukemia. I've got it. It has me."
    Arthur blinked twice. Harry would not look straight at him.
    "It's not good. In a few months, I'll be spending most of my time fighting this. I can't see how I'll be anything but a hindrance."
    "Terminal?" Arthur asked.
    "My doctors say perhaps not. But I've been reading." He shrugged.
    "These new treatments…"
    "Very promising. I have hope. But you must see…" Harry turned his bright gaze on Arthur. "This thing's as big as Ayers Rock, and it's been there how long?"
    "No more than six months. Survey satellites mapped that area just over six months ago and it wasn't there."
    Harry grinned broadly. "That's wonderful. That's truly wonderful. What the hell is it, Arthur?"
    "A piece of Europa, perhaps?" Arthur's voice was far away. His friend still wouldn't meet his gaze.
    Harry laughed out loud and flung his napkin on the table.