by Fred Hoyle
“Nice or nasty?” he inquired.
“Nasty.”
“Because you were made to register pain.” He raised his hand again and she flinched away. “I’m not going to hurt you this time.”
She stood rigidly while he stroked her forehead, like a deer being stroked by a child, submissive but ready for flight. His fingers ran down her cheek and on to her bare neck.
“Nasty or nice?”
“Nice.” She watched him to see what he would do next.
“You’re made to register pleasure. Did you know that?” He withdrew his hand gently and moved away from her. “I doubt if you were intended to, but by giving you human form... Human beings don’t live by logic.”
“So I’ve noticed!” She was more sure of herself now, as she had been before he started speaking; but he still held all her attention.
“We live through our senses. That’s what gives us our instincts, for good or bad — our aesthetic and moral judgements. Without them we’d probably have annihilated ourselves by now.”
“You’re doing your best, aren’t you?” She looked down at her papers with a contemptuous smile. “You are like children, with your missiles and rockets.”
“Don’t count me in on that.”
“No, I don’t.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “All the same, I am going to save you. It is very simple, really.” She made a small gesture to indicate the papers she held.
Judy came in and stood, as Andromeda had done, at the doorway.
“Dr. Geers can see you.”
“Thank you.” The roles now were changed. In some unspoken way, the three of them stood in a different relationship to each other. Although Fleming still watched Andromeda, she looked back at him with a different kind of awareness.
“Do I smell nasty?” she asked.
He shrugged. “You’ll have to find out, won’t you?”
She followed Judy out of the building and walked along the concrete path with her to Geers’s office. They had nothing to say to each other, and nothing to share except a sort of wary indifference. Judy showed her into Geers’s room and left her. The Director was sitting behind his desk, telephoning.
“Yes, we’re coming along famously,” he was saying. “Only another check and we can start building.”
He put down the phone and Andromeda placed her papers on his desk, casually, as though she were bringing him a cup of tea.
“That is all you will need, Dr. Geers,” she told him.
Ten
ACHIEVEMENTS
THE new missile was built and tested at Thorness. When it had been fired and recovered, and copies made, the Prime Minister sent Burdett to see Vandenberg.
The General was more than a little worried about the Thorness project. It seemed to him to be going too fast to be sound. Although his chiefs wanted action quickly, he had grave doubts about this piece of foreign technology and wanted it sent for testing to the U.S.A.; but Her Majesty’s Government unexpectedly dug its toes in.
Burdett confronted him in the underground ops room.
“Just for once we have the means to go it alone.” The young minister looked very sharp and dapper and keen in his neat blue suit and old school tie. “Of course we shall co-ordinate with you when we come to use it.”
Vandenberg grunted. “Can we know how you’ll use it?”
“We shall make an interception.”
“How?”
“Reinhart will give us our target information from Bouldershaw, and Geers’s outfit will do the firing.”
“And if it fails?”
“It won’t fail.”
The two men faced each other uncompromisingly: Burdett smooth and smiling, the General solid and tough. After a moment Vandenberg shrugged.
“This has become a very domestic affair all of a sudden.”
They left it at that, and Burdett told Geers and Reinhart to go ahead.
At Bouldershaw fresh traces were picked up nearly every day. Harvey sat behind the great window overlooking the Fell and logged them as they went over.
“...August 12th, 03.50 hrs., G.M.T. Ballistic vehicle number one-one-seven passed overhead on course 2697/451. Height 400 miles. Speed approx. 17,500 miles per hour...”
The huge bowl outside, which seemed empty and still under its tall superstructure, was all the time alive and full of the reflection of signals. Every vehicle that came over gave out its own call and could be heard approaching from the other side of the globe. There were electronic scanners in the observatory which showed the path of the targets on a cathode-ray screen, while an automatic plotting and range-finding system was coupled by land-line to Thorness.
At Thorness an array of rockets was set up on the cliff-top; a “first throw” as they called it and two reserves. The three pencil-shaped missiles, with tapering noses and finned tails, stood in a row on their launching pads, glinting silver in the cold, grey light. They were surprisingly small, and very slim and rather beautiful. They looked like arrows strung and ready to fly out from all the heavy and complicated harness of firing. Each one, tanked with fuel and crammed with precise equipment, carried a small nuclear charge in its tapered head.
The ground control was operated through the computer, which in turn was directed by Andromeda and her assistants. Target signals from Bouldershaw were fed in through the control room and instantaneously interpreted and passed on to the interceptor. The flight of interception could be directed to a hair’s breadth.
Only Geers and his operational staff were allowed in the control-room at this time. Fleming and Dawnay were given monitoring facilities, as a gesture of courtesy, in another building; Andromeda took over calmly at the computer and Geers fussed anxiously and self-importantly between the launching-site, the computer building and the fire control-room. This was a small operations centre where the mechanics of take-off were supervised. A direct telephone connected him with the Ministry of Defence. Judy was kept busy by Major Quadring, double-checking everyone who came and went.
On the last day of October, Burdett conferred with the Prime Minister, and then picked up a telephone to Geers and Reinhart.
“The next one,” he said.
Reinhart and Harvey stood to for thirty-six hours before they detected a new trace. Then, in the early light, they picked up a very faint signal and the automatic linking system was put into action.
The sleepy crew at Thorness pulled themselves together, and Andromeda, who showed no sign of effort, watched as they checked the information through the computer. The optimum launching time came out at once and was communicated to the fire control-centre, and the count-down began. Very soon a trace of the target could be seen on radar screens. There was a screen in the computer-room for Andromeda, another in fire control for Geers, a third in London in the Ministry of Defence Ops Room, and a master-check at Bouldershaw, watched by Reinhart. At Bouldershaw, too, the signal from the satellite could be heard: a steady blip-blip-blip-blip which was amplified and pushed out through the speakers until it filled the observatory.
At Thorness the speakers were carrying the count-down, and launching teams worked briskly round the bases of the rockets on the cliff-top. At zero the “first throw” was to be fired and, if that failed, the second, and, if necessary, the third, with fresh flight calculations made according to their take-off time. Andromeda had held that there was no need for this but the others were all too conscious of human fallibility. Neither Geers nor any of his superiors could afford a fiasco.
The count-down ran out to single figures and to nought. In the grey morning light of the promontory the take-off rockets of the first flight suddenly bloomed red. The air filled with noise, the earth shook, and the tall thin pencil slipped up into the sky. Within a few seconds it was gone beyond the clouds. In the control-rooms, the operations-room and the observatory, anxious faces watched its trace appear on the cathode screens. Only Andromeda seemed unconcerned and confident.
At Bouldershaw, Reinhart, Harvey and their team watched the
two traces of target and interceptor slowly converging and heard the blip-blip-blip of the satellite ringing louder and clearer in their ears as it approached. Then the traces met and at the same moment the noise stopped.
Reinhart swung round to Harvey and thumped him, wildly and uncharacteristically, on the back.
“We’ve done it... !”
“A hit!” Geers picked up his telephone for London. Andromeda turned away from her control-room screen as though something quite unimportant were over. In London, Vandenberg turned to his British colleagues in the ops room.
“Well, what do you know?” he said.
That evening an official statement was made to the press:
“The Ministry of Defence has announced that an orbital missile has been intercepted by a new British rocket three hundred and seventy miles above this country. The remains of the missile, which is of unknown origin, and of the interceptor, were burnt out on re-entering the earth’s atmosphere, but the interception was followed on auto-radar equipment and can, say the Ministry, be verified in minute detail.”
An almost audible collective sigh of relief rose from Whitehall, accompanied by a glow of self-congratulation. The Cabinet held an unusually happy meeting and within a week the Prime Minister was sending again for Burdett.
The Minister of Defence presented himself neat and smiling, in an aura of confidence and after-shave lotion.
“Any new traces?” asked the Prime Minister.
“Not one.”
“Nothing in orbit?”
“Nothing’s been over this country, sir, since the interception.”
“Good.” The Prime Minister mused. “Reinhart was due for a knighthood anyway.”
“And Geers?”
“Oh yes. C.B.E. probably.”
Burdett prepared for business. “And the computer and its, er, agent, sir?”
“We might make the young lady a Dame,” said the Prime Minister with one of his camouflage twinkles.
“I mean,” asked Burdett, “what happens to them? The Ministry of Science want them to revert.”
The Prime Minister continued to look amused. “We can’t have that, can we?” he said.
“We’ve a heavy military programme for it.”
“Also a heavy economic one.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I mean,” said the Prime Minister seriously, “that if this particular combination can achieve that for us, it can achieve a lot of other things. Of course it must still work on defence, but at the same time it has a very great industrial potential. We want to be rich, you know, as well as strong. The scientists have given us — and I’m very grateful to them — the most advanced thinking instrument in the world. It’s going to make it possible for us to leap forward, as a country, in a great many fields. And about time too.”
“Are you going to keep it in your own hands, sir?” Burdett spoke with a mixture of irritation and deference.
“Yes. I shall make a statement to the nation in the near future.”
“You’re not going to make it public?”
“Don’t flap, man.” The Prime Minister regarded him blandly. “I shall say something about the effects, but the means will remain top secret. That’ll be your responsibility.”
Burdett nodded. “What can I tell Vandenberg?”
“Tell him to rest his feet. No, you can say to him that we’re going to be a great little country again, but we’ll continue to co-operate with our allies. With any allies we can get, in fact.” He paused for a moment while Burdett waited politely. “I shall go to Thorness myself as soon as I can.”
The visit was arranged in a few days — it was obviously priority in the Prime Minister’s mind. Judy and Quadring had some difficulty in concealing it from the press, for public curiosity was at its height; but in the end it was laid on with due secrecy and the compound and its inhabitants were quietly and discreetly groomed. Geers had changed distinctly since his success. Confidence was something new to him. It was as though he had taken the chips off his shoulder and put them away. He was brisk but affable, and he not only allowed Dawnay and Fleming access to the computer again but urged them to be on parade for the Prime Minister’s tour. He wanted everyone, he said, to have their due.
Fleming had private doubts about this window-dressing but kept them to himself; at least there might be an opportunity to speak. He arrived in the computer building early on the day of the visit, and found Andromeda waiting there alone. She also appeared transformed. Her long hair had been brushed back from her face and, instead of her usual simple frock, she wore a sort of Grecian garment which clung to her breasts and thighs and floated away behind her.
“Phew!” he said. “Something human’ll happen to you if you go round like that.”
“You mean these clothes?” she asked with faint interest.
“You’ll make one hell of an impression, but then you already have. There’ll be no holding you now, will there?” he asked sourly. Andromeda glanced at him without replying. “He’ll probably ask you to take over Number Ten, and I suppose you think we’ll sleep easy in our beds, now we’ve seen how powerful you are. I suppose you think we’re all fools.”
“You are not a fool,” she said.
“If I weren’t a fool, you wouldn’t be here now! You shoot down a little bit of metal from the sky — chickenfecd when you know how — and suddenly you’re in a commanding position.”
“That was intended.” She faced him expressionlessly.
“And what’s intended next?”
“It depends on the programme.”
“Yes.” He advanced towards her. “You’re a slave, aren’t you?”
“Why don’t you go?” she asked.
“Go?”
“Now. While you can.”
“Make me!” He stared at her, hard and hostile, but she turned her head away.
“I may have to,” she said.
He stood, challenging her to go on, but she would not be drawn. After a few seconds he looked at his watch and grunted.
“I wish this diplomatic circus would come and get it over.”
When the Prime Minister did arrive, he was escorted by officials, politicians and Scotland Yard heavies. Geers led him in. They were followed by Burdett and Hunter and by a train of lesser beings, dwindling away to Judy, who came at the end and closed doors behind them. Geers indicated the control-room with a sweep of his arm.
“This is the actual computer, sir.”
“Quite incomprehensible to me,” said the Prime Minister, as if this were an advantage. He caught sight of Andromeda. “Hallo, young lady. Congratulations.”
He walked towards her with his hand outstretched, and she took and shook it stiffly.
“You understand all this?” he asked her.
She smiled politely.
“I’m sure you do, and we are all very beholden. It’s quite a change for us in this old country to be able to make a show of force. We shall have to take great care of you. Are they looking after you all right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The visiting party stood round in a half circle, watching and admiring her, but she said nothing else.
Fleming caught Judy’s eye and nodded towards the Prime Minister. For a moment she could not think what he wanted, then she understood and edged in beside Geers.
“I don’t think the Prime Minister has met Dr. Fleming,” she whispered.
Geers frowned; his good fellowship seemed to be wearing a little thin in places.
“Good, good.” The Prime Minister could think of nothing more to say to Andromeda. He turned back to Geers.
“And where do you keep the rocketry?”
“I’ll show you, sir. And I’d like you to see the laboratory.”
They moved on, leaving Judy standing. “Dr. Fleming —” she tried unsuccessfully, but they did not hear her. Fleming stepped forward.
“Excuse me a moment —”
Geers turned to him with a scowl. “Not
now, Fleming.”
“But —”
“What does the young man want?” the Prime Minister inquired mildly.
Geers switched on a smile.
“Nothing, sir. He doesn’t want anything.”
The Prime Minister walked on tactfully, and as Fleming moved forward again Hunter laid a hand on his arm.
“For goodness sake!” Hunter hissed.
At the door of the lab bay Geers turned back.
“You’d better come with us.” He spoke to Andromeda, ignoring the others.
“Come along, my dear,” said the Prime Minister, standing aside for her. “Brains and beauty first.”
The procession filed out into the laboratory, except for Judy.
“Coming?” she asked Fleming, who stood staring after them
He shook his head. “That was great, wasn’t it?”
“I did my best.”
“Great.”
Judy fidgeted with her handkerchief. “At least you should have been allowed to speak to him. I suppose he’s shrewd, though he looks a bit of an old woman.”
“Like another.”
“Who?”
“Of Riga.” He gave her a faint grin. “Who went for a ride on a tiger. They finished the ride with the lady inside, and a smile on the face of the tiger.”
She knew the limerick, and felt irritated. “We’re all going for a ride, except you?”
“You know what she said to me just now?”
“No.”
He changed his mind and looked away from Judy to the control panel. “I’ve an idea.”
“One I’d understand?”
“Look how beautifully he’s ticking over — how sleek and rhythmical he is.” The computer was working steadily, with a gentle hum and a regular flashing of lights. “Purring away with us inside him. Suppose I pulled out the plug now?”
“They wouldn’t let you.”
“Or got a crowbar and smashed him up.”
“You wouldn’t get far with the guards. Anyhow, they’d rebuild it.”
He took out a pad and some papers from a drawer in the control desk. “Then we’ll have to shake it intellectually, won’t we? I’ve shaken the young lady a bit. Now we’d better start on him.” He saw that she was looking at him doubtfully. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to blow your whistle. Are they coming back this way?”