Read The Coming for Free Online Page B

than scientist, I'd imagine."
    "Buena suerte."
    "Yeah." She opened a few drawers and found a notebook. "Maybe we can get away for lunch? Go down to Sara's and get a beer?" Dos Hermanos was the department's official bar.
    "Love it."
    Rory walked down a floor and went to 301, a room usually reserved for first-Friday get-togethers and holiday parties. They'd put in a round table that was too large for six people, holo flats in place for the governor and Grayson Pauling.
    The holos were dark and the chancellor hadn't shown up yet. She said hello to the two deans and took her place to the right of Bacharach.
    She suppressed a smile at his sour "buenos." They had been at odds for three years, ever since Bacharach had inherited the "Dean of Research" title. Some people would covet the job, but to Bacharach it was a necessary evil—five years of afternoons spent in argument and analysis and the annual excruciation of presenting the budget to the board and trying to explain science to them.
    Rory suspected that he didn't like teaching any more than he liked committee work; he'd really prefer to be left alone with his particle physics. It was more than delicious that her astrophysics budget had slowly climbed under his tenure, while particle had to eat a major cut in spite of his arguments.
    She did like him in spite of his dourness and departmental politics. He was an odd-looking man, very tall, huge hands. A ponytail and beard that reminded Rory of her father's generation.
    Deedee Whittier was Bacharach's opposite. She loved academic infighting; she was a master of finely tuned sarcasm and the art of playing one person against another. Rory approved of her, though. She could have used her position—as Bacharach did—to limit her teaching to intellectually challenging seminars in her specialty. Instead, she took on two huge lecture courses, Life Sciences and Biology I, and the students had twice voted her Teacher of the Year. Rory had eavesdropped on her lectures and envied her charisma. She envied her trim athletic beauty, too; almost as old as Rory, she looked more than ten years younger.
    Chancellor Barrett hurried in, checking his watch. "Damned reporters." He sat down heavily next to Whittier. "So. We're all in our places, with bright shiny faces."
    "Good morning to you, Professor Mal," Rory said.
    He tilted his head toward her. "And to you, Professor. Deedee, Al. Anything new, Aurora?"
    "Not since this morning's broadcast. You saw it?"
    "Yes, twice." He took out a large white handkerchief and rubbed his face with it. He was a big round man who didn't take well to the unseasonal heat. "That fellow on the Moon, that Japanese. Do you know anything about him?"
    "I didn't. I looked him up about an hour ago. He's a radio astronomer doing a project for the University of Kyoto."
    "He's legitimate? He couldn't be part of a hoax?"
    "Mal … how the hell could I know? He might be in the pay of the Mafia."
    The chancellor winced, just as a soft ping warned of an incoming transmission. "Don't say 'Mafia' when the governor's here."
    "Heavens, no. Let's keep relations out of this." The two deans laughed.
    The governor's image faded in and solidified. He smiled broadly. "Good morning, all. Buenos días." Murmur of returned greetings. "So what's the joke? Can I be in on it?"
    "Reporters," Chancellor Barrett said quickly. "Though I suppose they are no joke to a man in your position."
    "Ah, no. No. But we have to live with the little darlin's, don't we? Ha." He studied a prompt screen, which had the disconcerting effect of making it look like he was staring accusingly at Dean Bacharach. "Now. God knows I don't want to interfere with your science work. This is really serious stuff, I know. But it could be a real shot in the arm for the state of Florida, too. Surely you can appreciate my position." He looked around at the holographic ghosts who sat at his table in Tallahassee. Rory suddenly realized that that was why this table was so large; it