“How long ago?”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Hutton?” Spivey asked.

George levered his heavy body to sit up at the head of the table. “How long ago did you snoop our records, Colonel?”

Teresa noticed he didn’t ask how Spivey’s team had broken the Tangoparu security screen. Obviously the great power alliances possessed better infotech than even the best Net hackers. With the deep pockets of governments, and many of the old loyalties to call upon, they could stay two, three, even four years ahead of individual users. So Spivey’s next admission took her a bit by surprise.

“You know, it’s funny about that,” the colonel answered openly. “We looked for you guys a long time. Too long. You had someone running awfully good interference for you, Hutton. We pierced your caches just three days ago, and then only thanks to some anonymous tips and help from civilian consultants like Mr. Eng here.”

Spivey nodded toward the vaguely oriental-looking man Teresa had seen on the trail, who blinked nervously when his name was mentioned. Obviously he was no peeper.

One of the Tangoparu technicians stood up to loudly protest the illegality of this invasion. Pulling a cube from his jacket, Spivey interrupted. “I have a document here, signed by the chiefs of NATO, ASEAN, and ANZAC, as well as the New Zealand national security authority, declaring this an ultimate emergency under the security sections of all three pacts and the Rio Treaty. What you people have been up to justifies that label, wouldn’t you say? If anything in human history does, a black hole eating up the Earth surely qualifies as an ‘emergency.’

“And yet you kept it to yourselves! Hiding it from the press, from the net, and from sovereign, elected governments. So please spare me your righteous indignation.”

In the holo tank, Stan Goldman’s silent image turned away as he saw someone approaching. Sighing in silent resignation, he reached for a switch and the image cut off abruptly. In its place the familiar cutaway globe rotated again — the Earth, depicted as a multilayered ball of Neapolitan ice cream.

Ah, if only it were true. An ice cream planet. What a wonderful world it would be.

Forcing aside giddiness, Teresa mentally added — Good luck, Stan. God bless you.

“Until only a little while ago we thought you people were the ones who made the damned monster!” June Morgan shouted at Spivey. “You and your secret cavitron laboratories in orbit and your cozy great power agreements. We felt we had to keep our work hidden or you’d interfere to save your own asses!”

“An interesting, perhaps even plausible, defense,” Spivey acknowledged. “But now you know it wasn’t we nasty government brutes who manufactured the…” He paused.

“The Beta singularity,” Alex Lustig prompted, his first comment of the afternoon.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Alex nodded enigmatically.

“Yes, well. A few days ago you folks seem to have decided the monster was sent this way instead by angry aliens.” He shrugged. “I’m not yet convinced by that colorful scenario. But be that as it may, once you believed that, and knew we weren’t Beta’s makers, wasn’t it your duty then to tell us? After all, aren’t we supposed to be the experts at dealing with external aggressors? We’re the ones with the resources and organizational skills to take your shoestring operation and—”

“We were arguing about just that when you and your men burst in,” George said abruptly. “In hindsight, maybe I was wrong to hold out for continued secrecy.”

“Because now it will remain secret.” Spivey nodded. “You’re right in your implication, Mr. Hutton. The alliances I represent see great danger in this situation — danger going far beyond the immediate matter of getting rid of Beta. The last century’s proven how dangerous new technologies can be when they’re misused. But once it’s widely known that something’s possible, there’s never a second chance to stuff the genie back into its bottle. Do you doubt it’ll be different when people hear about gravity lasers*”

He looked around the room. “Be honest now, would any of you like to see Imperial Han or the East Asia Coprosperity Sphere, learn how to make these knot singularity things? Or Sea State, for heavens’ sake?”

“There are science tribunals,” June Morgan suggested. “And on-site inspection teams…”

“Yes.” Spivey nodded. “A combination that’ll work fine, so long as manufacturing such things requires large industrial facilities. But hadn’t we better make sure of that, first? That these things can be controlled by the peacekeeping agencies? After all, Dr. Lustig’s already shown you can use very small cavitrons to make impressive singularities.”

“Not that impressive,” Alex cut in, showing his first sign of irritation as he gestured toward a whirling representation of Beta.

“No?” Spivey turned to face him. “With all due respect for your admitted brilliance, Professor, you’re also notorious for truly major screwups. Can you be so sure you’re right about that? Can you absolutely guarantee that Joe Private Citizen won’t be able to make planet killers someday, in his basement, any time he’s angry at the world?”

Alex frowned, keeping his mouth shut. Suddenly Teresa thought of her conversations with Stan Goldman, about the mystery of a universe apparently all but empty of intelligent life. Putting aside Lustig’s theory about alien berserkers, there was yet another chilling possibility.

Maybe it is trivial to make world-wrecking black holes. Maybe it’s inevitable, and the reason we’ve never seen extraterrestrial civilizations is simple… because every one reaches this stage, creates unstoppable singularities, and gets sucked down the throat of its own, self-made demon.

But no. She knew from the look in Alex Lustig’s eyes. He’s not wrong about this. Beta’s beyond our ability to duplicate, now and for a long time to come. Bizarre as it sounds, the thing was sent here.

“Hmph.” George Hutton grunted. The Maori geophysicist clearly saw little point in arguing over things already beyond his control. “Mind if I consult my database, Colonel?”

Spivey waved nonchalantly. “By all means.”

George picked up a hush-mike and spoke into it, watching streams of data flow across his desk screen. After a minute he looked up. “You have our stations in Greenland and New Guinea. But the other sites—” He paused.

Spivey looked to his left. “Tell them please, Logan.”

The civilian consultant shrugged. He spoke with a soft but startlingly incongruous Cajun accent. “My computer model of recent Earth, um… tremors, indicates the third site has to be on Easter Island. The last one’s inside a fifty-kilometer circle in the northern part of the Federation of Southern Africa.”

George shrugged. “Just checking. Anyway, I see here all is normal at those two. No troops. No cops. You haven’t got them, Colonel.”

“Nor are we likely to.” Spivey folded his arms, looking quite relaxed. “None of the alliances I represent have any jurisdiction in those territories.

“Oh, we could sabotage your sites I suppose. But if you people are right — if you’re not all deluded or crazy — then Earth needs those resonators. So I imagine zapping them would be a little self-defeating, wouldn’t it?”

That actually won a weak chuckle from a few of those gathered at the table. He continued with an ingratiating smile. “Anyway, our objective isn’t to slam you all into jail. Indeed, formal gravamens have been prepared against only one person in this room, and even in that case we might find some room to maneuver.”

Teresa felt all eyes turn briefly toward her. Everyone knew who Spivey meant. The list of likely counts against her was depressing to contemplate — misappropriation of government property, perjurious nondisclosure, dereliction of duty… treason. She looked down at her hands.