Skyfall

“You are making me spell it out, Major Winter, and I do not blame you. Simply said, if and when Prometheus crashes it will cause widespread destruction and death. You can appreciate what this will mean.”

Patrick interrupted. “I do, Mr. Dillwater, and I'm sorry I spoke the way I did. Understandable but not justifiable. When this thing hits we die in any case. If Prometheus could be exploded in space it would not crash and many lives would be saved. Is that what you were going to say, Mr. Dillwater?”

“Thank you, Major Winter. You put me to shame for I know I could never do what you are doing. But that, in essence, is what I was going to say.”

PHONE CALL FOR YOU the note read.

“Tell them to hold,” Flax said.

“Person-to-person,” the messenger said. “Can only hold a couple of minutes.”

“For Christ's sake, not now. Who is it?”

“A Wolfgang Ernsting.”

“Get the number. I'll call him back.” Patrick was talking again. He had missed part of what they had said.

“… not my decision. I'll explain to the rest of the crew and we will contact you. I don't know what they will say but, since time is a consideration, I suggest you put the program on the teleprinter to us so we will have a copy here.”

“I don't know, is that possible?”

“Mission Control here,” Flax said. “There is a classified military telex in the White House which hooks into our printer here. Begin sending soonest and I'll have it relayed to the printer in Prometheus.”

“Yes, I'll take care of that.”

“Prometheus out.”

Flax threw the switch and collapsed back into his chair. Just too much. Then he stirred and called Communications Console. “See that a copy of that HOOPSNAKE thing reaches me as soon as it's printed. I want to know just what they have in mind.”

“Yes, sir. Do you want me to place that call now?”

“What call?”

“Wolfgang Ernsting.”

“No, hold that. Get me through to that French observatory, the solar one that's been looking at the sun spots.”

They must have been holding a line open because the call went through in seconds. The conversation was less satisfactory. The astronomer had very little English and Flax, tired as he was, could hardly think of a word of French. But the meaning, or lack of meaning, soon became clear. Yes there was solar activity as predicted. No, not yet was it as strong as predicted, but that could change at any moment. Any guess when? Anytime. Great. Thank you and goodbye. Flax groaned as he broke the connection. No contact yet from Prometheus. They must still be talking about HOOPSNAKE — what a wonderful conversation that must be! Or perhaps, like him, they were too stunned for any of this to have much effect any more.

There was something he must do. What? Take a leak. That would wait, but barely. Something else. Right, Wolfgang. What the hell had he called him about in the first place? It was only hours ago that he had placed the call yet it seemed like weeks. Prometheus was still silent. Call him and get it over with.

“Put that Ernsting call through,” Flax said.

Fatigue and the pressure of events pressed Flax deep into the chair, his mouth hanging slightly open, his skin gray and damp. No one noticed — for they were all in approximately the same condition. The connection was made and his phone buzzed; he switched it to his mike and headphone.

“Hello, Wolfgang. I tried you earlier but… what?”

The words whispered quickly into his ear were like some new form of energy because, as he listened his body grew tense, drew taut, sat up and leaned forward, his hand pressing the headset hard against his ear so that he would not miss a word. The fatigue was gone and replaced by a savagely burning anger.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes. You are absolutely sure? I know. I'll try not to involve you if I can, I know what it means. I'll do my best. Yes. You were right to have told me. Whatever comes of this, whatever happens you remember that. It is something to remember for the rest of your life, Mein lieber Freund. Goodbye.”

“Prometheus calling Mission Control. Can you patch us through to Mr. Dill water…”

“No,” Flax shouted, then louder, jumping to his feet. “NO! I am connecting you to the President of the United States, Dillwater as well, and the entire cabinet who are meeting at this time. Before they hear what you have to say I want them to hear what I have to say.”

At every console heads were turned, the strained faces staring in awe at Flax's massive form as he stood, quaking with anger, shouting into the radio.

38

GET 25:57

“Gregor, I need your help in here,” Patrick called out.

“One moment, I will be there.”