H’lim’s eyes raked the tense humans. Titus could hear his shallow breathing, but he did not raise Influence as he answered, “Figments of my disturbed imagination, no doubt.”

“I doubt it,” said Colby.

Eyes fixed on his terminal, H’lim elaborated. “I have been told of well-funded espionage conducted between rival firms on your world. Your species is not so dissimilar from those of the galaxy. There are always wealthy individuals who would do drastic things to quadruple their wealth.

“I was escorting a herd of specially bred stock, my own product, and a closely guarded secret. Possession of that secret could have quadrupled the wealth of those who could afford to stage such a deception against me. Your work with the intact orl tissue supported that theory. The message you wanted me to write could have used my personal reputation to lure someone of even greater value than I into a trap.”

He raised his eyes. “I understand that humility is valued among you. I apologize for not being humble about my value. I assure you, I do not exaggerate. Provide me freedom, privacy, and access to a well-equipped laboratory, and I’ll help you with your next steps in conquering viral and genetic diseases. I won’t ”give` you anything that would disrupt your civilization, but just the tools to meet galactic civilization with confidence.“

H’lim focused on the recorder up in the corner of the room and spoke to those on Earth. “I’m only one person, isolated here, surrounded by vacuum, under heavy guard-and already my existence has disrupted the affairs of your world. But if you were confident, then there would be no disruption, not even at the arrival of a shipload of galactics. I offer you contact on an even footing with a huge commerical market. I ask only your help in surviving and returning home.”

Titus could not have written a better presentation, but then H’lim’s rhetorical style in English was no doubt derived from Titus’s own. It was almost too good. It was eerie. An alien should seem more-alien.

Colby took charge, aborting a dozen private arguments. “Dr. Sa’ar has spoken very persuasively, but the matter will not be decided here. Dr. Mihelich has repeatedly confirmed that we are in no danger of biological contamination. Dr. Sa’ar has not, even under extreme provocation, injured anyone. We are fully isolated here, and our actions will have no consequences on Earth-unless we lose Dr. Sa’ar’s good will by mistreating him. Therefore, I am ordering Lab 620, across from Dr. Mihelich’s lab, turned over to Dr. Sa’ar. I am searching for suitable private quarters for our guest, and will provide guards and staff to aid him.”

The main screen flashed white, then resolved into an exterior of Goddard Station, with an announcer’s voice-over. “. enormous destruction! It’s getting hard to breathe in here!” He was screaming over a background roar. Titus made out chunks of debris spreading from a gaping hole in the station’s wheel. “-take you now to Quito Orbital Control, Max Simon reporting. Max?”

The image shifted to a shirt-sleeved reporter muttering aside to someone, “Oxygen masks up there?” Then he touched the button in his ear and glanced at the camera. “Oh. Good morning from Quito Control. Here we’ve been getting conflicting reports of the explosion.” Behind him, a large screen held another view of Goddard. “Only one thing is absolutely certain. Nothing is left of Barnaby Peter. According to scanners here at Quito, none of the pieces is larger than a man. I have-” His hand went to his ear again, and his manner changed.

“We have a bulletin just in, and for that we return to Terry Rogers at Houston.”

The scene shifted to the fountain plaza of the familiar Orbital Control Center building in Houston. A brunette in a yellow silk suit held a microphone between herself and a young man with thick glasses and a fringe of beard. “Dr. Raymond Sills here will comment on. oh?” She glanced off camera, to someone who handed her a flimsy, then started again. “I’m sorry. This just in. A group calling itself the Coalition of Earth Advocates has claimed responsibility for the destruction of Barnaby Peter and the World Sovereignties Investigative Board. Their spokesperson-”

She cut off as another flimsy was shoved into her hand and someone whispered off camera, “No, no, read this!”

She began again, “The Coalition of Earth Advocates is supported by-oh my God!” She went white.

Yet another paper appeared before her, and the top of a head bobbed into the shot. Titus could see the young bearded man’s arm supporting the reporter for an instant, and then she stood on her own feet again, took a deep breath and declaimed in the calm but grave voice of a reporter covering a funeral, “I have here official confirmation that the Coalition of Earth Advocates is supported by sixteen countries formerly signatory to the World Sovereignties compact. They have, as of this date, seceded from our union. We take you now to World Sovereignties headquarters.”

The screen showed the cavernous General Assembly room, a scattering of delegations present and more arriving by the minute. At the lectern stood a swarthy, turbaned man with a full black beard reading a statement in the ponderous style necessitated by simultaneous translation.

“. do not declare war upon those still signatory to the World Sovereignties compact. We have banded together to Protect all of Earth, and to do so, we will use our military might block any action of World Sovereignties that endangers our species. To this end, we the undersigned nations of Earth, declare Project Station under full blockade. Project Hail’s probe will never lift, their signal never go out. Project Station is now elated and those within left to die in the arms of their gods. Never again will any human being set foot on or near Project Station. We hereby declare it forbidden!”

The department heads watched the coverage for two hours until it began to repeat. Twenty key W.S. figures asserted that the probe would go on schedule and that the station would be resupplied even if the blockading nations had to be defeated militarily. No one on the station believed this would remain a unanimous opinion, or that supplies would arrive soon.

The next three hours were spent creating a new, tighter rationing schedule, and when they finally broke up, Colby had the unenviable job of presenting their immediate, urgent needs list to Irene Nagel.

The moment Titus was free to leave his seat, he charged out the door, heading for his lab and his only link to Connie. Fractionally ahead of the others, he reached the lifts while they were still clear. In his lab, he found his people glued to the screens watching the coverage of the blockade or the stations official announcement of rationing.

They turned to him the moment he appeared. Dismay, indignation, even rage colored their fear. They had all accepted the hazards of lunar duty, but none had signed on to fight a war, harbor a living alien, or die on the moon.

“I say we should execute that unnatural beast!” shouted someone. “Finish what the crash started. Then-”

“Didn’t you hear?” interrupted a woman. “They consider the station contaminated. Killing H’lim won’t change that.”

“They can still send us supplies-even under quarantine,” argued Shimon. “We won’t die.”

“They want us dead. They don’t want H’lim’s knowledge to reach Earth. They’re scared enough to nuke the station.”

Titus held up his hands for silence and declared, “A few people, a few nations, on Earth have panicked, but that’s no reason for us to panic. The majority of humans are level-headed, sane, practical people who value life-even ours, even H’lim’s. We will survive until sense prevails, and we will do the job we were hired to do.”

With that, he ducked into his office and shut the door, wishing he could believe his own words. They’d sounded awfully weak, but the noise level subsided.