Vol Xi Part 124 (1/2)
Major Elbertson pulled himself to a military stance, returning his aide's salute with complete precision.
Briefly he considered gathering all his men, all the Security personnel, and storming the bridge.
No, obviously the enemy was organized--an unforeseen circ.u.mstance. Obviously the captain was not alone. Obviously his men included at least some of these slipstick boys--and he would command the loyalty of them all, since he was somewhat of their ilk himself.
No, an officer must seek the most advantageous position from which to deliver his ultimatum.
He must use Hot Rod itself to control them. If Hot Rod itself were actually sabotaged, then the plan must wait until he could have it repaired. He doubted it was hurt.
The flare had thrown off all original sequences--but perhaps that was to his advantage.
To Chauvenseer he snapped: ”This is the detail of our immediate operation. Get four of our best men besides yourself. Have each of them come separately and un.o.btrusively to the south polar lock, where I will meet them. I will bring Smith with me.
”Have each of the others take his a.s.signed post for Operation Ripe Peach--but order them to take no action other than to prevent anyone on board from doing anything unusual that might be an enemy operation--until I alert them that Operation Ripe Peach is operational.
”Their orders will, of course, come on our personal radios, Security Band 2Z21.
”Execute!” he ended, saluting smartly.
As the Security squad moved, with individual secrecy, towards their various posts, Captain Andersen was considering that Elbertson would probably snap out of it as soon as he had had coffee and a shave. The man had probably been severely affected by the drugs he had been given. He would make no further reference to the incident of erratic behavior, unless it continued.
Bessie, having at the moment nothing else to do, was busily plying the Sacred Cow not only for her own horoscope for the day, but also those of the several persons of whom she was most fond, while carefully keeping a s.h.i.+elding bunch of paper work in a place to make it appear that she was officially busy. The captain's horoscope, she recognized, didn't look much worse than the rest of them, but was definitely the worst. One of those mathematical jumbles that somehow didn't interpret clearly. None of them looked very good today.
Out on the rim, things were getting back to normal. The labs were functioning again, most of them according to their a.s.signed, routine procedures; but in some, heads were drawn together over the absorbing diagrams supplied by Mike and Is.h.i.+e.
Mike and Is.h.i.+e themselves had already put in twelve hours almost without a break. Working under stress, neither of them had remembered to eat.
There was a cough at the entrance to the machine shop, and Dr. Millie Williams' soft voice said ”May I come in?”
The two looked up as the slender figure of the dark-skinned biologist entered the lab, balancing ”trays” with plastic bottles atop.
”If I know you, Dr. Is.h.i.+e; and you, too, Mike--you haven't eaten,” she said with a smile. ”Now, have you?”
”Millie,” said Mike, ”you've just reminded me that I'm as hollow as a deserted bee-stump after the bears get through with it!”
”Little Millie,” said Is.h.i.+e, looking up at the figure nearly as tiny as his own, ”you must be telepathic as well as beautiful. Confusion say 'Gee, I'm hungry!'”
”I'm told that the fate of the satellite depends on you two,” Millie smiled. ”I thought I'd just give our fate a little extra chance. Now drop what you're doing and light into this.
”After that, if you've got a job for a mere biologist, I've got my lab readied up where it can last till I get back and--I'm not bad with a soldering iron. Meantime, why don't you let Paul and Tombu go eat while you eat?”
”Good idea,” said Mike. ”You two. You heard the lady. We gotta give our fate the benefit of victuals. Scat.”
As soon as the physicist and the engineer were settled to the plastic containers of food and coffee she had brought, wolfing them down hungrily, Millie opened up.
”While we're alone, I'm going to speak my piece,” she said. ”You two will do me the honor of not taking offense if I say that you have the most brains and the least consciences aboard--and I happen to share the latter characteristic.”
The two looked up guiltily and waited.
”Now don't stop eating, for I'm not through talking,” she said. ”That magneto-ionic effect canceler you dreamed up would probably cancel the six hundred forty pound magneto-ionic effect pull you dreamed up--if such a thing existed.
”What I want to know ... don't stop eating until you've decided whether you're going to let me in on your game or not ... is what really does exist? I might be of some help, you know.”
”But--” Mike and Is.h.i.+e simultaneously choked over their food, looked at each other, and then Mike blurted out, ”but how could she know?”
”Don't worry,” said Millie. ”I'm probably the only one. It takes a person with little conscience and much imagination--takes a thief to catch a thief, I mean--yes, I think I mean that quite literally. Besides, I can help with some of that gla.s.sware that disappeared out of my supplies several days ago. Oh yes, I knew it was gone and where it went--but I figured any purpose you had was a good one, Is.h.i.+e.
”But for how I personally canceled the idea of your magneto-ionic effect from the flare--it just happens that last night I was curious while everybody was asleep. When Bessie first came on duty this morning, I offered to relieve her while she had a cup of coffee, and I got a half-hour all by myself with the Cow. The captain wasn't up yet. Her console's so simple anyone with a basic knowledge of computers and cybernetics could figure her out.
”Practically the first question I asked--something about our orbit--the Cow told me that the information was top secret, and to get it I must go to the proper channel and identify myself as Mike. I started to intercom you, Mike, to tell you that your machinations were showing, but Bessie came back about then. I hung around to see what would happen, and pretty soon Bessie asked the Cow about the same question--but instead of getting the same answer, the Cow told her that an external magneto-ionic field was pulling us out of line.
”So I went up to your engineering place. I rather thought you'd like to know what the Cow had told me--but Dr. Is.h.i.+e was there, and so instead I went about my own business until I could figure things out.
”Now I couldn't figure things out. But I could figure there's a monkey wrench somewhere--and since the two of you have been sticking together like Siamese twins, I know it will be perfectly all right to ask you in front of Is.h.i.+e.
”Now,” she finished, ”do I get my girlish curiosity satisfied? You don't have to tell me. I'll just keep on being puzzled quietly and without indicating the slightest magneto-ionic dubiousness, if you'd rather. But I might be helpful; and I would like to know.”
”Confusion say,” Is.h.i.+e declared through the side of his mouth, ”that he who inadvertently puts big foot in mouth is apt to get teeth kicked loose. We are very lucky, Mike, that it was Millie who asked the question of the Cow at that time. Besides, we've got to tell somebody sooner or later. We can't just run off by ourselves.
”Yes, Millie, I think you have a job,” he said. ”Your help here will be appreciated, of course. But what we really need is a way of bridging the gap between ourselves and the rest of the personnel before it gets too wide. How's your P.R. these days?”
”That's something I learned in a hard school, public relations,” she answered nonchalantly. ”De-segregation was just beginning when I was a girl back in Georgia. But maybe I'd better know what the gap is.”
The two began to talk, interrupting each other, incoherently outlining the Confusor and the various forces it exerted, and the--what Mike kept calling the inertial fish hook.
Finally Mike took over. ”To put it simply,” he said, ”our pet didn't do at all what we expected--it hooked in on inertia and it took us off. A confusing little Confusor--but Millie--it's a s.p.a.ce drive! A real, honest-to-gosh s.p.a.ce drive!”
Millie gulped. It was far, far more than she had expected. Perhaps this was another form of disguise like the magneto-ionic....
”Are you sure?” Then she answered her own doubts. ”Of course you're telling the truth now. That's not something you two would play games about.” Then in awe--”You've really got it!”
”But why, then,” she said, uncomprehending, ”are you hiding it?” But before they could answer, she answered her own question again. ”You'd have to. Of course. Otherwise it'll be strangled in red tape. Otherwise n.o.body'll let you work on it any more, except as head of a research team stuck off somewhere. Otherwise, Budget Control would take it over and make a fifteen-year project out of it--and the two of you will probably have it in practical operation....”
She looked at the molds and wiring taking form all across the machine shop.
”Oh, no! You'll have it in operation--soon!”
”Yes, soon--and we hope soon enough.” Is.h.i.+e sighed, then grinned impudently. ”There is,” he said, ”the little matter of the fact that--in all innocence but nevertheless quite actually--we wiped out Thule Base.
”If we don't get the big Confusor in operation very soon, it may be that we shall spend a good deal of time in Earth's courts proving our innocence while someone else botches most thoroughly the job of creating a Confusor that could take us to the stars. And that,” he added mournfully, ”neither of us would enjoy. We might not even be able to prove our innocence, for there would be many very anxious to prove us sufficiently guilty to keep us out of the way for many years.
”So you see,” he said, ”you have a very real P.R. problem. Our a.s.sistants here could work better if they knew what they were doing. The people aboard the wheel would be most excited by a s.p.a.ce drive, and would give us every aid.
”But what the law says, it says--and the captain would have no choice but to put us in irons if he heard, though I think our captain is such that he would not want to do it.