by Jerry
“What about our vehicles then? Have you found out what’s wrong?”
The major looked uncomfortable. “Well, the difficulty is that the vehicles work satisfactorily inside the ship, and for a little while outside. But then, after they’ve been out a while, a malfunction occurs in the mechanism. That’s what causes the trouble.” He looked at Bade hopefully. “Was there anything else, sir.”
“Yes,” said Bade dryly, “it’s the malfunction I’m interested in. What is it that goes wrong?”
The major looked unhappy. “Well, sir, we’ve had the motors apart and put back together I don’t know how many times, and the fact is, there’s nothing at all wrong with them. There’s nothing wrong, but they still won’t work. That’s not our department. We’ve handed the whole business over to the Testing Lab.”
“Then,” said Bade, “you actually don’t have any work to do?”
The major jumped. “Oh, no sir, I didn’t say that. We . . . we’re holding ourselves in readiness, sir, and we’ve got our shops in order, and some of the men are doing some very, ah, very important research on the . . . the structure of the enemy ground-car, and—”
“Fine,” said Bade. “Get your colonel on this line.” When the colonel appeared, Bade said, “Ground Forces Supply has its steam trucks out of service for lack of water. Get in touch with their H.Q., find out the location of the trucks, and get out there with the water. Find out where they can replenish in the future. Take care of this as fast as you can.”
The colonel worked his mouth in a way that suggested a weak valve struggling to hold back a large quantity of compressed air. Bade looked at him hard. The colonel’s mouth blew open, and “Yes, sir!” came out. The colonel looked startled.
Bade immediately switched back to Supply and said, “Ground Forces Maintenance is going to help you water your trucks. Why didn’t you get in touch with them yourselves? It’s the obvious thing.”
“Sir, we did, hours ago. They said water supply wasn’t in their department.”
Bade seemed to see the bursting of innumerable bubbles before his eyes. It dawned on him that he was bogged down in petty details while big events rushed on unheeded. He switched back to the colonel briefly and when he switched off the colonel was plainly vibrating with energy from head to toe. Then Bade looked forebodingly at the map and ordered Liaison to get General Rast for him.
This took a long time, which Bade spent trying to anticipate the possible enemy reaction if Supply broke down completely, and a retirement became necessary. By the time Rast appeared on the screen, Bade had thought it over carefully, and could see nothing but trouble ahead. There was a buzz, and Bade looked up to see a fuzzy picture of Rast.
Rast, as far as Bade could judge, had a look of victory and exhilaration. But the communicator’s reception was uncommonly bad, and Rast’s image had a tendency to flicker, fade, and slide up and down. Judging by the trend of the conversation, Bade decided reception must be worse yet at the other end.
Bade said, “Supply is in a mess. You’d better choose some sort of defensible perimeter and halt.”
Rast said, “Thank you. The enemy is in full flight.”
“Listen,” said Bade. “Supply is stopped. We can’t get supplies to you. Supply can’t catch up with you.”
“We’ll pursue them day and night,” said Rast.
“Listen to me,” said Bade. “Break off the pursuit! We can’t get supplies to you!”
Rast’s form slowly dimmed and expanded till it filled the screen, then burst, and reappeared as a brilliant image the size of a man’s thumb. His voice cut off, then came through as a crackle.
“Siss kissis sissis,” said the image, expanding again, “hisss siss kississ sissikississ.” This noise was accompanied by earnest gestures on the part of Rast, and a very determined facial expression. The image grew huge and dim, and burst, then started over again.
Bade spat out a word he had promised himself never to say again under any circumstances whatever. Then he sat helpless while the image, large and clear, leaned forward earnestly and pounded one huge fist into the other.
“Hiss! Siss! Fississ!”
“Listen,” said Bade, “I can’t make out a word you’re saying.” He leaned forward. “WE CAN’T GET SUPPLIES TO YOU!”
The image burst and started over, bright and small.
Bade sucked in a deep breath. He grabbed the Communications microphone. “Listen,” he snapped, “I’ve got General Rast on the screen here and I can’t hear anything but a crackle. The image constantly expands and contracts.”
“I know, sir,” said a gray-smocked technician with a despairing look. “I can see the monitor screen from here. It’s the best we can do, sir.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Bade could see Rast’s image growing huge and dim. “Hiss! Siss!” said Rast earnestly.
“What causes this?” roared Bade.
“Sir, all we can guess is some terrific electrical discharge between here and General Rast’s position. What such a discharge might be, I can’t imagine.”
Bade scowled, and looked at a thumb-sized Rast. Bade opened his mouth to roar out that there was no way to get supplies through. Rast’s image suddenly vibrated like a twanged string, then stopped expanding.
Rast’s voice came through clearly, “Will you repeat that, sir?”
“WE CAN’T SUPPLY YOU,” said Bade. “Halt your advance. Pick a good spot and HALT!”
Rast’s image was expanding again. “Siss hiss,” he said, and saluted. His image vanished.
Bade immediately snapped on the Communications microphone. “Do you have anyone down there who can read lips?” he demanded.
“Read lips? Sir, I—” The technician squinted suddenly, and swung off the screen. He was back in a moment, his face clear and hopeful. “Sir, we’ve got a man in the section that’s a fanatic on communications methods. The other men think he can read lips, and I’ve sent for him.”
“Good,” said Bade. “Set him to work on the record of that conversation with General Rast. Another thing—is there any way you can get a message though to Rast?”
The technician looked doubtful. “Well, sir . . . I don’t know—” His face cleared slightly. “We can try, sir.”
“Good,” said Bade. “Send ‘Supply situation bad. Strongly suggest you halt your advance and consolidate position.’ ” Bade’s glance fell on the latest plot from the map room. Glumly he asked himself how Rast or anyone else could hope to consolidate the balloon-like situation that was coming about.
“Sir,” asked the technician, “is that all?”
“Yes,” said Bade, “and let me know when you get through to Rast.”
“Yes, sir.”
Bade switched off, and turned to ask Runckel for the exact time Landing Force 3 would be down. Bade hesitated, then squinted hard at Runckel.
Runckel’s face had an unusually bright, animated look. He was glancing rapidly through a sheaf of reports, quickly scribbling comments on them, and tossing them to an excited-looking clerk, who rushed off to slap them on the desks of various exhilarated officers and clerks. These men eagerly transmitted them to their various sections. This procedure was normal, but the faces of the men all looked too excited. Their movements were jerky and fast.
Bade became aware of the sensation of watching a scene in a lunatic asylum.
The excited-looking clerk rushed to Runckel’s desk to snatch up a sheaf of reports, and Bade snapped, “Bring those here.”
The clerk jumped, rushed to Bade’s desk, halted with a jerky bounce and saluted snappily. He flopped the papers on the desk, whirled around and raced off toward the desks of the officers who usually got the reports Bade was now holding. The clerk stopped suddenly, looked at his empty hands, spun around, stared at Runckel’s desk, then at Bade’s. A look of enlightenment passed across his face. “Oh,” he said, with a foolish grin. He teetered back and forth on his heels, then rushed over to look at the latest plot from the map room.
; Bade set his jaw and glanced at the reports Runckel had marked.
The top two or three reports were simple routine and had merely been initialed. The next report, however, was headed: “Testing Lab. Report on Cause of Vehicle Failure; Recommendations.”
Bade quickly glanced over several sheet of technical diagrams and figures, and turned to the summary. He read:
“In short, the breakdown of normal function, and the resultant slow violent pulsing action of the motor, is caused by the abnormally low conductivity of Surface Conduction Layer S-3. The pulser current, which would normally flow across this layer is blocked, and instead builds up on projection L-26. Eventually a sufficient charge accumulates, and arcs across air gap B. This throws a shock current through the exciter such as is normally experienced only during violent acceleration. The result is that the vehicle shoots ahead from a standing start, then rolls to a stop while the current again slowly accumulates. The root cause of this malfunction is the fantastically low moisture content of the atmosphere on this planet. It is this that causes the loss of conductivity across Layer S-3.
“Recommended measures to overcome this malfunction include:
a) Artificial humidification of the air entering the motor, by means of sprayer and fan.
b) Sealing of the motor unit.
c) Coating of surface condition layer S-3 with a top-sealed permanent conducting film.
“A) or b) probably can be carried out as soon as the requisite devices and materials are obtainable. This, however, may involve a considerable delay. C), on the other hand, will require a good deal of initial testing and experimentation, but may then be carried into effect very quickly, as the requisite tools and materials are already at hand. We will immediately carry out the initial measures for whichever plan you deem preferable.”
Bade looked the report over again carefully, then glanced at Runckel’s scrawled comment:
“Good work! Carry this out immediately! S.R.”
Bade glared. Carry what out immediately?
Bade glanced angrily at Runckel, then sat up in alarm. Runckel’s hands clenched the side of his desk. Runckel’s back was straight as a rod. His chest was inflated to huge dimensions, and he was slowly drawing in yet more air. His face bore a fixated, inward-turned look that might indicate either horror or ecstasy.
Bade shoved his chair back and glanced around for help.
His glance stopped at the map screen, where the huge overblown blot in the center of the continent had sprouted a long narrow pencil reaching out toward the west.
There was a quick low gonging sound, and the semicircular rim atop the Communications microphone lit up in red. Bade snapped the microphone on and a scared-looking technician said, “Sir, we’ve worked out what General Rast said.”
“What?” Bade demanded.
At Bade’s side, there was a harsh scraping noise. Bade whipped around.
Runckel lurched to his feet, his face tense, his eyes shut, his mouth half open and his hands clenched.
Runckel twisted. There was a gagging sound, then a harsh roar:
Ka
Ka
Ka
KACHOOOOO!!
Bade sat down in a hurry and grabbed the microphone marked, “Medical Corps.”
A crowd of young doctors and attendants swarmed around Runckel with pulse-beat snoopers, blood pressure gauges, little lights on long rubber tubes, and bottles and jars which they filled with fluid sucked out of the suffering Runckel with long hollow needles. They whacked Runckel, pinched him, and thumped him, then jumped for cover as he let out another blast.
“Sir,” said a young doctor wearing a “Medical-Officer-On-Duty” badge, “I’m afraid I shall have to quarantine this room and all its occupants. That includes you, sir.” He said this in a gentle but firm voice.
Bade glanced at the doorway. A continuous stream of clerks, officers, and messengers moved in and out on necessary business. Some of these officers, Bade noticed, were speaking in low angry tones to idiotically smiling members of the staff. As one of the angry officers slapped a sheaf of papers on a desk, the owner of the desk came slowly to his feet. His chest inflated to gigantic proportions, he let out a terrific blast, reeled back against a wall, and let out another.
The young medical officer spun around excitedly. “Epidemic!” he yelled. “Seal that door! Back, all of you!” His face had a faint glow as he turned to Bade. “We’ll have this under control in no time, sir.” He came up and plastered a red and yellow sticker over the joint where door and wall came together. He faced the room. “Everyone here is quarantined. It’s death to break that seal.”
From Bade’s desk came an insistent ringing, and the small voice of the communications technician pleaded, “Sir . . . please, sir . . . this is important!” On the map across the room the bloated red space now had two sizable dents driven into it, such as might be expected if the enemy were opening a counteroffensive. The thin pencil line reaching toward the west was wobbling uncertainly at its far end.
Bade became aware of a fuzzy quality in his own thinking, and struggled to fix his mind on the scene around him.
The young doctor and his assistants hustled Runckel toward the door. As Bade stared, the doctor and assistants went out the door without breaking the quarantine seal. The sticker was plastered over the joint on the hinge side of the door. The seal bent as the door opened, then straightened out unhurt as the door shut.
“Phew,” said Bade. He picked up the Communications microphone. “What did General Rast say?”
“Sir, he said, ‘I can’t reach the coast any faster than a day-and-a-half!’ ”
“The coast!”
“That’s what he said, sir.”
“Did you get that message to him?”
“Not yet, sir. We’re trying.”
Bade switched off and tried to think. His army was stretched out like a rubber balloon. His headquarters machinery was falling apart fast. An epidemic was loose among his men and plainly spreading fast. The base was still secure. But without sane men to man it, the enemy could be expected to walk in any time.
Bade’s eyes were watering. He blinked, and glanced around for some sane face in the sea of hysterically cheerful people. He spotted an alert-looking officer with his back against the wall and a chair leg in his hand. Bade called to him. The officer looked around.
Bade said, “Do you know when Landing Force 3 is coming down?”
“Sir, they’re coming down right now.”
Bade stayed conscious long enough to watch the beginning of the enemy’s counteroffensive, and also to see the start of the exploding sickness spread through the landing site. He grimly summarized the situation to the man he chose to take over command.
This man was the leader of Landing Force 3, a general by the name of Kottek. General Kottek was a fanatic, a man with a rough hypnotic voice and a direct unblinking stare. General Kottek’s favorite drink was pure water. Food was a matter of indifference to him. His only known amusements were regular physical exercise and the dissection of military problems. To hesitate to obey a command of General Kottek’s was unheard of. To bungle in the performance of it was as pleasant as to sit down in the open mouth of a shark. General Kottek’s officers were usually recognizable by their lean athletic appearance, and a tendency to jump at unexpected noises. General Kottek’s men were nearly always to be seen in a state of good order and high spirits.
As soon as Bade, aching and miserable, summarized the situation and ordered Kottek to take over, Kottek gave a sharp precise salute, turned, and immediately began snapping out orders.
Heavily armed troops swung out to guard the site. Military police forced wandering gangs of sick men back to their ships. The crews of Landing Force 3 divided up to bring the depleted crews of the other ships up to minimum standards. The ships’ damper units were turned to full power, and the outside power network and auxiliary damper units were disassembled and carried into the ships. Word came that a large enemy force had made an air
-borne landing not far away. Kottek’s troops marched in good order back to their ships. The ships of all three landing forces took off. They set down together in the center of the largest mass of Rast’s encircled troops. The next day passed embarking these men under the protection of Kottek’s fresh troops and the ships’ dampers. Then the ships took off and repeated the process.
In this way, some sixty-five percent of the surrounded men were saved in the course of the week. Two more landing forces came down. General Rast and a small body of guards were found unconscious partway up an unbelievably high hill in the west. The situation at this point became hopelessly complicated by the exploding sickness.
This sickness, which none of the doctors were able to cure or even relieve, manifested itself in various forms. The usual form began by exhilarating the victim. In this state, the patient generally considered himself capable of doing anything, however foolhardy, and regardless of difficulties. This lasted until the second phase set in with violent contractions of the chest and a sudden out-rush of air from the lungs, accompanied by a blast like a gun going off. This second stage might or might not have complications such as digestive upset, headache, or shooting pains in the hands and feet. It ended when the third and last phase set in. In this phase the victim suffered from mental depression, considered himself a hopeless failure, and was as likely as not to try to end his life by suicide.
As a result of this suicidal impulse there were nightmarish scenes of soldiers disarming other soldiers, which brought the whole invasion force into a state of quaking uncertainty. At this critical point, and despite all precautions, General Kottek himself began to come down with the sickness. With him, the usual exhilaration took the form of a stream of violent and imperative orders.
Troops who should have retreated were ordered to fight to the death where they stood. Savage counter-attacks for worthless objectives were driven home “to the last drop of blood.” Because General Kottek ordered it, people obeyed without thought. The hysterical light in his eye was masked by the fanatical glitter that had been there to begin with. The general himself only realized what was wrong when his chest tightened up, his body tensed, and a racking concatenation of explosions burst from his chest. He immediately brought his body to the position of attention, and crushed out by sheer will a series of incipient tickling sensations way down in his throat. General Kottek handed the command over to General Runckel and reported himself to sick bay.