“That is my name within the Puzzle Network. This section is dedicated to Puzzle Network activities. Others are not supposed to be here.”
Still she did not move, except to continue gobbling the result of Bat’s culinary labors so fast that he knew she could not possibly savor the delicate balance of flavors. Finally she paused between mouthfuls to say, “This tastes wonderful. It’s saving my life. My name is Milly Wu.”
“Of the Wu-Beston anomaly?” Her presence in the analysis center at last made sense.
“That’s right.”
“Then you have a message waiting for you. It came in a few minutes ago from the Argus Station at Jovian L- 4. It contains a privacy tag, which means that it can only be read using a cubicle code.” Bat saw no reason to add that privacy tags were no challenge, he had read the message, and the sender had cagily offered no details except to request a return call. He went on, “But then is no cubicle set aside for Milly Wu, and no cubicle code.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I gave you my name but not my Puzzle Network name. I go by Atropos, and I’m in Cubicle Twelve.”
Few things in the System impressed Bat. When one did he took care not to let it show. This was Milly Wu, discoverer of the Wu-Beston anomaly. And she was Atropos, a journeyman triple champion in the Network. Such talent could be expelled from the room, but not precipitately.
He asked a polite question, expecting a negative answer. “You must have arrived only recently. Are you making progress in deciphering elements of the SETI signal?”
Her response made Bat feel that he had made an awful mistake. She crashed the bowl down half-empty on the stand and exclaimed, “Yes! Yes!”
Now she was going to stay and spout rubbish at him when he should be working. He became convinced of that as she babbled on. “I believe I’ve found something, an interpretation that I’ve not seen in any other analysis. I started work in Section Fourteen — you know the twenty-seven section mapping of the whole anomaly? Of course you do, you probably created it. Anyway, it’s the same place where I first noticed the existence of a signal, out at the Argus Station. But today I had the advantage of the interpretive suggestions that you and the others have made, so I was able to start with a knowledge of the integers and arithmetic operations. It took me forever — that’s why I blundered in here looking for something to eat — but finally I began to put a few pieces together.” She advanced to stand by his console. “Mind if I use your displays?”
Bat had not invited Milly Wu to talk about her work, nor did he now give approval for her to use the equipment in his cubicle. That did not stop her. She continued to speak, rapidly and intensely, and threw images on the screen at such a dizzying speed that for the first minute Bat was constantly about to interrupt and eject her. Then he found himself concentrating, just to keep up with the stream of information. After that, intellectual interest took over.
By the time that she delineated the signal sections that provided formulas for simple chemical compounds, Bat was persuaded. He nodded and said, “Yes, that result is new. And it is elegant.”
Bat employed his own vocabulary for describing the work of others. Interesting meant dull, fascinating indicated that the result possessed some minor interest, while remarkable was equivalent to Wolfgang Pauli’s, This theory is so bad it’s not even wrong. The word elegant, which he had just used, was reserved for cases where Bat was impressed.
There was visible proof of that fact, had Milly known how to read it. Just before she came into the room, Bat had filled a large bowl with peel-less, seedless oranges. He had intended to eat his way through them as he worked. When Milly concluded, the bowl sat cradled on his belly, ignored and still full.
Bat now took an orange, popped it whole into his mouth, and placed the bowl on the desk in front of him. It was logical to continue the discussion, pointing out to Milly how her work dove-tailed with some of his own thoughts on deciphering other elements of the signal; but other matters were going to intrude. Alex Ligon was already late, and although his message had been terse and guarded, it implied final results from Bengt Suomi and the Ligon Industries’ team of scientists.
Milly knew nothing of any of this. She read Bat’s scowl differently. She said, “Thank you for the food and thank you for listening,” and started toward the door.
“One moment.” Bat held up a pudgy hand. “I would like to pursue your ideas further, but in the near-term I am otherwise engaged. If you would be free to return…”
“Tomorrow?” Milly’s face showed mixed feelings of pleasure and disappointment. She had done something new — even elegant. Food and drink had restored her, so that she was in no mood for sleep. And she had a chance that might never be repeated, an opportunity to work one-on-one with a leading Master of the Puzzle Network.
But Bat was frowning and shaking his close-cropped round head. “I was not thinking of tomorrow. I had in mind, say, one hour from now. If you were to return then, my other meeting should be concluded.”
Milly nodded. “One hour. If you become free before then I will be in Cubicle Twelve.”
And she was gone.
Bat nodded approval. It was nice to deal with someone who knew how to make up her mind. Milly Wu’s results were indeed elegant. However, they added to a strange suspicion that had been stirring for days in the base of his brain.
Bat settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. He sensed that the world-lines were converging, and each one might require hard thought. It was one of those rare occasions when he envied Mord’s capability for parallel processing.
The waiting message was, as Milly had expected, from Jack Beston. She made sure that the cubicle door was closed, invoked her own code, and was met by Jack’s green-eyed glare. His excited tone matched his expression. “Milly, I’m delayed at L-4. I have no idea how long I must stay here. Call on a tight security circuit and insist on talking to me. I’ll explain.” Problems at Argus Station? But Jack sounded more pleased than alarmed. Milly asked for a secure line and waited impatiently as it was established. When the connection was completed, to her annoyance the face that appeared on the display was not Jack. It was Zetter, looking, as usual, ready to cook and eat her own grandmother. Except that now her thin face wore an expression of ill-disguised triumph.
“Yes?”
“I’m returning a call. I need to speak with the Ogre.”
“He is unavailable.”
“Station security can reach him at any time. You know that better than anyone. That’s you. I don’t think Jack Beston would like to hear that I tried to reach him, and you blocked my call.”
It was a power struggle, pure and simple, the kind of thing that Milly loathed. Zetter glared hatred out of the display, then vanished.
Milly watched the clock. In less than thirty seconds Jack’s face appeared.
He greeted her with, “Anyone with you?”
“I’m alone, in a secure environment.”
“Good. Let’s hope that the Bastard can’t tap into a secure line. I believe that this time he’s made a big mistake.”
“How?”
“He made a deal with the Puzzle Network when he didn’t need to. Milly, I have good news.” Jack glanced from side to side, as though even in his own station he worried about being overheard. “We’re starting to crack the signal. Not all the signal, of course, and only partial results where we have them at all. But Pat Tankard and Simon Bitters are making progress. The whole job will still take years, but we’re beating the Bastard. We’re moving ahead of him.”
“Are you sure? Do you have an information pipeline into Odin Station?”
“Not a reliable one. Zetter still has hopes, though.” Jack was frowning. “What’s your problem, Milly? I thought the news would make you ecstatic. We’ve always agreed that detection is good and verification is better, but until you have interpretation you’re not even halfway up the mountain.”
“I haven’t changed my mind. But Jack” — when had she started to call him Jack, rather than sir or Mr. Beston, or even the Ogre? — “it’s not happening only on Argus Station. The Puzzle Network group here is making progress, too. My guess is that your brother’s team is moving along just as quickly. All of us overestimated the difficulty of making some initial sense out of part of the signal.”
Jack’s scowl turned him back into his usual Ogre self. “Don’t kid yourself, Milly. The Bastard’s team are idiots,
