Part 9 (2/2)
”That will not be too difficult.”
Nor was it. The Siberians' reaction brought a lump to Kinnison's throat.
”Ralph the First, Czar of Siberia!” they yelled. ”Long live the Czar! Kowtow, serfs and va.s.sals, to Czar Ralph the First!”
Kinnison was still glowing when he got home that night, to the Government Housing Project and to the three-room ”mansionette” in which he and Eunice lived. He would never forget the events of that day.
”What a gang! What a gang! But listen, ace-they work under their own power-you couldn't keep those kids from working. Why should I get the credit for what they do?”
”I haven't the foggiest.” Eunice wrinkled her forehead-and her nose-but the corners of her mouth quirked up. ”Are you quite sure that you haven't had anything to do with it? But supper is ready-let's eat.”
More months pa.s.sed. Work went on. Absorbing work, and highly varied; the details of which are of no importance here. Paul Jones, a big, hard, top-drawer chicle technologist, set up the Four line to pour demolition blocks. Frederick Hinton came in, qualified as a Siberian, and went to work on Anti-Personnel mines.
Kinnison was promoted again: to Chief Chemist. He and Sumner had never been friendly; he made no effort to find out why Cappy had quit, or had been terminated, whichever it was. This promotion made no difference. Barton, now a.s.sistant, ran the whole Chemical Section save for one unit-Siberia-and did a superlative job. The Chief Chemist's secretary worked for Barton, not for Kinnison. Kinnison was the Czar of Siberia.
The Anti-Personnel mines had been giving trouble. Too many men were being killed by prematures, and n.o.body could find out why. The problem was handed to Siberia. Hinton tackled it, missed, and called for help. The Siberians rallied round. Kinnison loaded and tested mines. So did Paul and Tug and Blondie. Kinnison was testing, out in the Firing Area, when he was called to Administration to attend a Staff Meeting. Hinton relieved him. He had not reached the gate, however, when a guard car flagged him down.
”Sorry, sir, but there has been an accident at Pit Five and you are needed out there.”
”Accident! Fred Hinton! Is he...?”
”I'm afraid so, sir.”
It is a harrowing thing to have to help gather up what fragments can be found of one of your best friends. Kinnison was white and sick as he got back to the firing station, just in time to hear the Chief Safety Officer say:
”Must have been carelessness-rank carelessness. I warned this man Hinton myself, on one occasion.”
”Carelessness, h.e.l.l!” Kinnison blazed. ”You had the guts to warn me once, too, and I've forgotten more about safety in explosives than you ever will know. Fred Hinton was not careless-if I hadn't been called in, that would have been me.”
”What is it, then?”
”I don't know-yet. I tell you now, though, Major Moulton, that I will know, and the minute I find out I'll talk to you again.”
He went back to Siberia, where he found Tug and Paul, faces still tear-streaked, staring at something that looked like a small piece of wire.
”This is it, Uncle Ralph,” Tug said, brokenly. ”Don't see how it could be, but it is.”
”What is what?” Kinnison demanded.
”Firing pin. Brittle. When you pull the safety, the force of the spring must break it off at this constricted section here.”
”But d.a.m.n it, Tug, it doesn't make sense. It's tension ... but wait-there'd be some horizontal component, at that. But they'd have to be brittle as gla.s.s.”
”I know it. It doesn't seem to make much sense. But we were there, you know-and I a.s.sembled every one of those G.o.d d.a.m.ned mines myself. Nothing else could possibly have made that mine go off just when it did.”
”O.K., Tug. We'll test 'em. Call Bart in-he can have the scale-lab boys rig us up a gadget by the time we can get some more of those pins in off the line.”
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