Fantastic Stories Presents the Imagination (Stories of Science and Fantasy) Super Pack. Edmond Hamilton
Читать онлайн книгу.
other civilian in the room, a youngish blonde woman, lit another cigarette. The ash tray before her was overflowing. Her fingers were nicotine stained. “Very extraordinary.”
Julia materialized back in her chair. She replaced the glasses.
The conferees began to whisper softly.
The blonde nodded her head. She turned to Julia. “About this space station—”
“This is Doctor Helen Norvel,” one of the general officers told Julia.
Dr. Norvel ignored him. “Is there some way we could detect it?”
“I’d like to try to explain the nature of the distortion field surrounding it to a physicist.”
“Dr. Norvel,” someone said, “is one of our better experimental physicists.”
“Oh?”
“Gentlemen,” Dr. Norvel said, “let me talk to her in the next room while you question this man.”
The bald civilian said, “Go right ahead, Doctor.”
The doctor stood up. Lighting another cigarette, she said, “We’ll go right in there, if you don’t mind.”
Julia got to her feet.
When they had gone, a lieutenant sitting beside the civilian looked up from a sheaf of papers in front of him. “Walt Johnson, isn’t it?”
Walt gulped. He felt clammy and frightened.
“I’m supposed to interrogate you—ask you some questions.”
“All, all right,” Walt said nervously.
“Now, Mr. Johnson, if you’ll just tell us—take it slowly; take your time—about life on this space station. Any details you can remember will prove helpful. Describe your quarters, the nature of the aliens—anything at all.”
*
Walt twisted in the seat. He looked around at the waiting faces. A general lit a cigarette. The heating system hummed softly.
Walt began to talk.
From time to time, someone interrupted him with a question.
It seemed to go on forever.
“About this focus rod?”
“It sends out a, a radiation. Something. I don’t understand too well. It’s lethal.”
“What is the radius of destruction?”
“I don’t know; I don’t remember.”
Pens scribbled.
“Please continue,” the lieutenant said.
Walt’s throat grew dry as he talked. Someone got him a drink of water.
“Could you estimate the number of mutants in this other compartment?”
“I couldn’t say. I couldn’t swear that there is another compartment.”
“A hundred? Five hundred?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“I see.”
“About,” a general asked, “how much of the total area of the ship would you say your compartment occupied?”
On and on.
“Let’s go over the description of that machine again. Did you ever see this Fierut disassemble any part of it?”
Walt was limp and exhausted. His mind was dulled by the effort of concentrating continuously. “Yes.” “No.” “To understand that . . . .” “I don’t know.” “No, no more than that . . . . Please. I’m getting confused.”
“You’ve been very helpful, Mr. Johnson,” the lieutenant said. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid he’s getting a little tired. Shall we postpone further questioning?”
“I believe we better. Would you call in Dr. Norvel, please.”
Walt slumped down in his seat.
The conferees whispered among themselves and compared notes.
Julia and the doctor came back.
“It took longer than I thought,” Dr. Norvel said. “I had to teach her quite a bit of math.”
“What’s your opinion?” the bald civilian asked.
“I believe her, gentlemen. She has just shown me how to build some electronic equipment. I’ll have a picture of that space station for you within two weeks.”
“That will be all, then, for right now,” the civilian said. He nodded at Walt and Julia. “The colonel is waiting to take you back to your hotel.”
“You’re not to talk to anyone about this,” one of the generals said.
*
Thursday. They came for Walt and Julia at nine o’clock. The hotel was aswarm with the military.
“Security measures,” the colonel explained as they waited for the elevator. “If any information about this leaks out, the whole country will be thrown into a panic.”
Julia nodded.
“We’ve evacuated the civilians to another hotel,” the colonel said.
Two guards with rifles stood at the street doorway.
“It’s going to be a hard day for you both,” the colonel said once they were in the car. “You’re scheduled to meet representatives of some foreign countries at ten o’clock. And after that, we’ll spend the rest of the day picking both your brains as clean as we know how.”
“That’s the way it’s got to be,” Julia said. “I understand.”
It was after midnight when she returned to her hotel. Surprisingly, she was able to sleep until dawn. She arose and showered in the first sunlight and dressed and ordered breakfast. The sergeant on duty at the desk downstairs went out himself to get it for her.
At nine (this was Friday morning) she and Walt were back in the Pentagon. Walt’s face was puffy, his eyes were red. “I’m tired,” he murmured as an officer hurried him toward a meeting with the Ordnance Section. For a moment Julia considered restoring his mutant bridge. But she was not completely certain that she could trust him; even the tiniest doubt was an excuse not to—since there was no overwhelming advantage to be gained from having two mutants instead of one in the Pentagon.
A few minutes later, Julia was ushered into the office of one of the very high ranking general officers. He rose to greet her, and then returned to his desk. Julia sat down across from him and he pushed stacks of reports to one side until he located his cigarette box.
Julia took a cigarette.
“Julia? I may call you that?”
“Please do.”
He bent across the desk to light her cigarette. He pushed an ash tray toward her.
“I expect you’d like to know what we’ve done so far?”
“Very much.”
“I’m preparing a report for the President. I hope to have it for him by noon.” He glanced at his watch. “I want to verify with you everything that goes into it.”
*
The smoke made Julia dizzy. She cleared her brain. It was a relief to hear someone else talking for a change.
“ . . . we’re preparing an atomic rocket to intercept their space station,” he said. “I understand from this report that your mutant powers aren’t infinite. It says in here somewhere that it would be impossible to stop