Part 43 (1/2)

”I wish I could help,” Dorothea said.

Silence fell, and gloom followed it.

Time ticked by. The bourbon bottle resumed its seductive winking.

”There is one thing,” Dorothea said suddenly. ”He did say one thing about it.”

”What?” Malone said eagerly.

”He said you couldn't teleport to some place you haven't been before.

You've got to be able to visualize where you're going.”

Malone said, ”Hmm.” It seemed like the right answer. Dorothea's statement was a fact, certainly, but he didn't see how the fact fit in anywhere.

”He didn't mention anything about distance, and I don't think any of the Spooks ever tested it for that,” Dorothea said.

”There probably is a distance limit,” Malone said. ”At least if Dr.

O'Connor's theories are right. I just wish I knew what the limit was.”

Silence fell again. Malone sighed. Dorothea sighed. Boyd sighed, looked around at the others and muttered, ”d.a.m.n thing's catching.” He got up and walked over to the dresser and picked up the bottle of bourbon.

”You, too?” Malone murmured, but Boyd didn't hear him.

”I don't care if it is early in the morning,” he said, resolutely. ”I need a drink. I need something to take the fog out of my head, anyhow.” He poured himself a shot, held the bottle aloft, and said, ”Dorothea? Malone?”

The girl shook her head.

Malone was tempted but he put Satan behind him with decision. ”No,” he said firmly. ”The way I feel now, one drink would probably immobilize me.”

Dorothea chuckled. ”You sound just like Mike,” she said.

”Mike doesn't drink in the morning either?” Malone said.

”Of course he doesn't,” Boyd said. ”Mike is a nice kid. A swell kid.”

”You keep quiet,” Dorothea shot at him. She turned back to Malone.

”Mike never drinks at all,” she said. ”He says it immobilizes him--just what you said.”

Somewhere in the black galactic depths of Malone's mind, a very small hot star gulped, took a deep breath and became a supernova.

The light was tremendous! It shed beams over everything, beams of a positively supernal brilliance. And in the all-pervasive brightness of that single inner light, bits of data began to fall into place with all the precision of aerial bombs, each falling neatly and exactly into its own little predetermined bomb crater.

It was beautiful. It was magnificent. Malone felt all choked up.

None of the Silent Spooks drank. He remembered Kettleman telling him that. And the Queen never touched the stuff either.

”What's wrong?” Boyd said.

”Malone, you look green.”

”I feel green,” Malone said. ”I feel like newly sprung gra.s.s. I feel as if I had just hatched out of something. I feel wonderful.”