Sidney's Comet Read Online Free Page B

with a gold braid sash and a gold cross and chain which dangled from the neck. Munoz carried his military cap in one hand.
    Cassius Murphy, the Jovial Minister of Bu-Bu, followed, then Bu-Free’s tall and angular Jack Ramsey. Both are neutral, Ogg thought. He glanced at Bu-Health’s Salim Bumbry and at the reddish-skinned American Indian Jim McConnel of Bu-Med, who entered eighth and tenth. So are they.
    As the ministers took seats silently in comfortable red nauga suspensor chairs which formed a half circle in front of Ogg’s desk, Ogg singled out Kevin Osaka, the small oriental minister of Bu-Construct. Still not sure of him, Ogg thought Osaka noticed the President staring at him and looked away nervously.
    “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” President Ogg said, scanning the faces in what he hoped was a somber manner. He nodded to Ezrah Sims of Bu-Cops and to Bu-Industry’s Marc Trudeau, men he considered loyal, then looked at his lifelong friend, Pete Dimmitt of Bu-Labor and said, “Nice to see you, Pete. Feeling better?”
    “Yes, Mr. President The leg’s doing fine.” Dimmitt touched a star-shaped Purple Badge on his left lapel proudly. This was the nation’s highest mark of valor, evidence for all to see of Dimmitt’s “conspicuous bravery” in the face of a disintegrating product: his moto-shoes.
    General Munoz placed his cap on the lap of his robe as he sat down crisply. Why in the hell has he called us in? Munoz wondered. Probably another foolish Job-Support idea to waste my time . . . .
    Munoz studied President Ogg closely, noted anger as the big black man crushed out his tintette in an ashtray. Ogg’s penetrating, blue-green eyes flashed at Munoz for a second. Then Ogg looked away and mentoed a “coffee” button on his desk panel. “Gentlemen,” he said, “in a few minutes you will see something extremely important.”
    That procession of coffee secretaries again, Munoz thought, reading the President’s thoughts with the brain-implanted transceiver given him secretly by Dr. Hudson. Munoz flicked a piece of confetti off his robe angrily. How many times is he going to show that to us?
    As Ogg watched, Dr. Hudson cleared his throat and squirmed into a chair next to the thin and mysterious General Munoz. The pupils of Munoz’s eyes were almost pure black, and he stared back at the President in cool disdain.
    Something about his eyes, Ogg thought. He almost seems to be laughing at me.
    I am laughing at you, Munoz thought, reading the President’s mind again.
    Ogg saw Munoz sneak a glance and a smile in Hudson’s direction.
    Only Munoz, Hudson and ten trusted conspirators had received the mind-reading units. Munoz recalled his doubts when Hudson installed the transceiver. . . .
    “ . . . Will I really be able to read minds with this?”
    “You’ll see for yourself in a few minutes,” Hudson had said.
    Munoz remembered his response: “Now I will see who is loyal to me and who is not!”
    “This transceiver will operate electronic gadgets like any consumer-issued unit,” Hudson had explained as he worked, “but it has a nice additional feature—”
    Munoz returned to the present, watched President Ogg clasp his hands on the cluttered desktop and glare around the room. Unaware of Munoz’s prying, Ogg said, “I have called this emergency session because the Alafin of Afrikari is due to arrive in my office at seven-thirty tomorrow morning.”
    Munoz read the President’s thoughts and cursed under his breath.
    Ogg rubbed a finger on the edge of his desk as the ministers whispered in surprise. “I should say a projecto-image of him will be here,” Ogg explained. ‘The old fool is still afraid to fly.”
    “He has demanded an audience?” Bu-Cops’ craggy-faced Minister Sims asked.
    “Yes. By telephone just an hour ago.” Ogg chewed his lower lip. “The Alafin says his astronomers have seen a comet which appears to be on a collision course with Earth.”
    “I thought that was just a