"No, we can't call on the Belt for help." Chick's expression dismissed the idea with the contempt he felt it deserved. "Not with Belt relations the way they are now. They know what they'd do to us with an embargo on uranium, and we know what we'd do to them by holding off their vitamins, and both sides are just itching to see who'd collapse first. You think they'd believe a story like ours? All the proof we can offer is second hand, from their point of view. They'd think we were setting up our own mining operation, or trying to claim a moon. They'd think anything at all, because all they can tell for sure is that three ships from Earth are on their way to Neptune.
"Worse yet, they might just assume that this telepathy amplifier won't reach beyond Earth. In which case they could make a better deal with Greenberg, king of the world, than they can with us."
"I'll never buy that," Garner had answered. "But you're right, there's no point in crying for help. There may be a better answer."
And so they waited. If they were right, if the stolen ships were going to the eighth planet, they would be turning in six days. Luke and Anderson had nothing to do until the ET's gave them their orders.
Luke went to sleep, finally, smiling. He smiled because the gees were pulling on his cheeks. Anderson was sleeping too, letting the autopilot do the work.
At twenty-one hundred the next day the last pair of strap-ons burned out, and were dropped. Now six tumbling pairs of thick-walled metal cylinders followed the Heinlein in a line millions of miles long. In a century all would reach interstellar space. Some would eventually pass between the galaxies.
The ship went on at a comfortable one gee. Luke scowled ferociously to exercise his facial muscles, and Anderson stepped into the airlock to do isometric exercises.
The rocks of the Belt slipped by below, faster every second.
He was a clerkish-looking man with a droning voice, and he called himself Ceres Base. From his appearance he might never have had a name of his own. He wanted to know what an Earth Navy ship was doing in the Belt.
"We have passage," Anderson told him curtly.
Yes, said Ceres, but what is the Heinlein's purpose?
Garner whispered, "Let me have the mike."
"Just talk. He can hear you."
"Ceres, this is Lucas Garner, Arm of the UN. Why the sudden shift?"
"Mr. Garner, your authority does not exist here in-"
"That's not what I asked."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You just now realized we're following the Golden Circle. Didn't you?"
"Are you really? To what purpose?"
"None of your business. But I may tell one of your superiors, if you pick the right superior. Get him on fast, were getting further away every minute."
"The Belt will not allow you passage unless you explain your purpose here."
"The Belt won't touch us. Good-by."
At the sound of the bell Marda rolled off the couch and walked smoothly into the phone booth. Already there was only a slight pull in her abdomen from the surgical cement, though the operation was just twelve hours old. A slight pull when she moved, to remind her of what she had lost.
"Lit!" she called. "Ceres. It's for you."
Lit trotted in from the garden.
Cutter looked apprehensive for once. "Remember the two bandit ships from Topeka Base? Someone's joined the procession."
"Took them long enough. We warned them days ago. When did it take off?"
"Two days ago."
"Two days, Cutter?"
"Lit, the Heinlein gave us plenty of warning and an accurate course projection. She also used strap-on boosters. The time/position curve looks completely different from the curves for the bandits. It took me this long to see that everybody's going in the same direction."
"Damn it, Cutter never mind. Anything else?"
"The Heinlein's passing Ceres now. Do you want to talk to Lucas Garner, Arm of the UN?"
"An Arm? No. What's an Arm doing out here?"
"He won't say. He might tell you."
"What makes you so sure the Belt won't stop us?"
"Well, they can't catch us and board us. All they could do is throw missiles at us, right?"
"You make me so happy."
"Belters aren't stupid, Anderson. Uh, oh."
A space-tanned Caucasian with black hair and wrinkled eyes looked out of the screen at them and said, "Do I have the honor of addressing Lucas Garner aboard the Heinlein?"
"Right. Who's this?"
"Charles Martin Shaeffer. First Speaker, Belt Political section. May I ask-"
"'Little' Shaeffer?"
The mahogany man's face froze for an instant, then barely smiled. "They call me Lit. What are you up to, Garner?"
"You I'll tell, Shaeffer. Now don't interrupt, because a long story…"
It took fifteen minutes to tell. Shaeffer listened without comment. Then there were questions. Shaeffer wanted details, clarification. Then some of the questions were repeated. There were veiled accusations, which became less veiled. Anderson kept the beam fixed and sensibly let Luke do the talking. After an hour of question-and-answer, Luke shut it off.
"That's as much cross examination as I'm taking today, Shaeffer."
"What did you expect me to do, swallow your tale whole? Your opinion of Belters needs revision."
"No, Shaeffer, it doesn't. I never expected to be believed. You can't afford to believe me; the propaganda value would be enormous if Earth took you in on such a wild story."
"Naturally. On the other hand, what you're trying to tell me is that an alien monster is threatening all of human civilization. In view of this it seems odd that you object to answering a few questions."