Armitage frowned. "It would be scarcely prudent for Senator Farragut to alarm the populace with disaster rumors."
Bishop looked at him out of his pale eyes. "Besides, it's an election year."
The silence was suddenly ugly.
Then Armitage chuckled. "All right," he said. "So the Senator wants to be a national hero. The fact still remains that Epsilon had better be habitable or Pan-Asia will scream we're hogging it. They want war anyway. Within a month—boom."
For a moment, I was afraid he was going to make a speech about Earth's suffocating billions, the screaming tension of the cold war, and the sacred necessity of Our Mission. If he had, I'd have gotten the weeping shrieks. Some responsibilities are too great to think about. But instead he winked at me. For the first time, I began to realize why Armitage was the Director of the Scientists' World Council.
"Hypothesis, Greta," he said. "Epsilon is probably a paradise. Why should the test colony let the rest of the world in on it? They're being selfish."
I giggled. We relaxed.
After supper, Armitage played chess with Bishop while I followed Max into the control room.
"Soon?" I said.