The next morning Will ached with disgust. He loathed what had happened to him. And yet... there was also something else.
He didn't only feel attacked and raped and captured. He felt loved as he had not since he was a boy.
Cherished, even.
This did not reassure him, and for a rather odd reason.
As son of a master fisher of trout, he knew the secret of the stream, that the man who takes the best fish is the one who loves them truly, and feels a genuine compassion as he drags them exhausted from the water and drops them to suffocate in his creel.
He was just like that, Wilfred Stone, a fish being loved to exhaustion.
And he was just about out of fight.
Chapter Twenty-one
His forty-eight hours of grappling with the others had reduced him to a furtive, huddling creature aching with secrets he dared not tell. He was closer to a complete breakdown, I think, than he realizes even now.
It was in this state that he held his first meeting with the scientific team that became the nucleus of the group that formed under MJ-12.
Three of the four scientists were bursting with confidence and good fellowship. Two weeks ago he would have craved the company of such men and counted them as critical assets to the team he was assembling. Now he had no more faith in them than a tired commissar might in the latest rabble of slaves from Moscow's dungeons.
There was Walt Roediger with his churchwarden pipe and academic demeanor. And paunchy, fluffy Dick Toole, the electromagnetics whiz who had been working until two days ago on the linear accelerator project.
The two of them stood up and advanced on Will as silently as ghosts when he arrived in the cramped conference room of Tech 21, the building Sally had commandeered to house the project. It had once been a massive generator room. Now it was mostly damp cavernous space, smelling faintly of machine oil.
The communist pathologist Gene Edwards was what Will described in his old-fashioned manner as "a real Arrow Shirt man." Tall, youthful, strong, he reacted to Will's arrival only by putting down his Los Alamos Times with a considerable amount of paper rattling. His body language spoke resentment. This was understandable, in view of the fact that he had been coerced into coming here.
They did not feel that they could risk telling anyone anything until the individual was on site and under their control. One word to the newspapers that the government was looking for scientists to study alien artifacts and the desperate and fragile cover-up would fall apart.
So he'd been forced to cooperate by a threat to his clearance. Without it he could not work on the program to which he was assigned at the University of California, which sought to understand and mediate the effects of radiation poisoning.
Edwards was the most serious security risk and his area of expertise was the most vulnerable to disclosure.
The group's last member was costumed rather than dressed, in what Will assumed was his own carefully considered notion of intellectual disarray.
According to Sally he was more than just brilliant like the others, he was something of a genius. He was an astronomer by profession. He had been chosen for Majestic because of his combination of backgrounds. Not only did he have a degree in astrophysics and an outstanding record of discoveries and achievements, he'd also worked during the war as a propagandist. He had been damned good at that, too.
Privately they would work Gerald Benning the astrophysicist to the bone. His public role would be a propaganda function. As an astronomer of significant academic standing he would explain every sighting that came to Air Force attention, taking the position that they were all bunk.
To make the group's chief astrophysicist also its chief propagandist was a stroke of cunning. It minimized
"need to know" while it also meant that the propaganda would be fine-tuned to hide the real situation.
I have read some of Benning's books, Flying Disks and The Saucer Enigma, and they are indeed masterpieces of the propagandist's art, making utterly insupportable and absurd claims that the disks can be explained by things like nonexistent atmospheric "lensing" effects.
Benning truly was a genius and he must have been a man of courage as well, a moral man. While keeping the public calm with his debunking books he secretly fought to understand the others. And he knew that he would be publicly discredited when and if his secret labors bore fruit.
Was CIG lucky, or was their real insight at work when these scientists were picked? I have a feeling that Roscoe Hillenkoetter was a far more extraordinary man than history yet realizes.
Will made an opening speech which was designed to disarm his small audience as much as possible. "Good morning, gentlemen," he said, "I'm your resident bureaucrat here to interfere with your work in annoying ways."
"Thank you," Edwards replied in a surprisingly pleasant voice. Will had expected a file like his to whine.
"I realize that none of you know exactly why you're here."
"But we're damn interested," Benning said. "I just gave up a week's telescope time at Palomar, so this had better be good."
"Gentlemen, this is probably the single most important thing that has ever happened."
"Tom Dewey's decided to get off his duff and whip Harry Truman," said Walt Roediger around his pipe.
Edwards looked disgusted. "This is supposed to be important. That excludes both Dewey and Truman."
"Gentlemen," Will said, "we've captured a flying disk and three of its occupants and we would like you to participate in a program of greater potential impact than the Manhattan Project—"
"Hold it," shouted the hitherto silent Toole, "did you say a flying disk?"
"I did."
He burst out: "Poppycock!"
He would not be the first to submerge fear beneath a shout of derision. Will quickly learned to use that tendency of the intellectually arrogant as a tool in maintaining secrecy. A man proud of his own intellectual attainments does not want to believe in superior aliens, not when their mere existence threatens the validity of his knowledge and therefore his self-integrity. I believe that this is the reason that scientists such as Carl Sagan continue to delude themselves about the reality of the disks.
Will decided that the best way of responding to Toole's outburst was to ignore it for the moment. "You must understand that we have a need for absolute secrecy. There is substantial evidence that our alien visitors are extremely hostile."
Edwards shook his head sadly. "Of course. The only motive strong enough to bring intelligent life across the universe turns out to be conquest."
Out of exhaustion and nervousness Will downed an entire cup of coffee, almost gagging with the heat of it.
There were sweet rolls and he began gobbling one.
Roediger stared at him. "Mr. Bureaucrat, this is about the most unnerving pause for refreshment I have ever endured. Will you get on with it, if you can stand to stop feeding."
"These sweet rolls would be good if they had more than the single raisin among them."
"Hostile aliens! Talk!"
"Yes."
Toole's eyes twinkled. "I'd want proof. Absolute proof in the form of a corpus delicti to autopsy."
"Dr. Edwards will be starting his autopsy in fifteen minutes."
"I'm beginning to suspect that you aren't kidding."
Sally pointed to the large double doors at the far end of the room. "The disk is through there. The bodies are in cold storage next door in T-22."
"I'm going to autopsy these things?" Edwards had gone pale. Roediger gave Will a frank look.
"There's physical material? This disk is what—I remember the papers saying something about debris being recovered."
"A rawinsonde. It was a rawinsonde that was recovered. I think that was the official verdict." Dr. Toole folded his arms.
"Gentlemen, we ought to begin. First, this project is going to be tightly compartmentalized. That means that every research team reports only to its own supervisor."
"No cross-fertilization?"
Will wondered if Toole rather than Edwards was going to prove the more difficult.
"Initially there will be. But when we begin to gain some perspective we will divide according to subject area.
At that point cross-fertilization will stop and need-to-know will replace it."
"Stupid, but predictable," Toole said.
"I would like to begin with a walk-around of the disk. Then we will observe Dr. Edwards's first approach to our most intact body." I went to the doors and pulled them open.
There was absolute silence. Then Toole spoke. "It looks a bit like something from a movie. Is it a prop?"
"No, Doctor, it is not." Roediger walked up to the disk.
"I'd like to go inside. Is it safe?"
"It may be partially operational. Personnel entering it have experienced extreme time disorientation. We don't know why."
"Time," Dr. Toole said. "In what sense?"
"A man subjectively perceived himself as being inside for a few minutes. He was actually gone for nine hours."
Benning was examining the damaged area. He reached his arm in and waved it up and down. "I wonder if we have a time machine here."
"Could such a thing exist—I mean, as a frankly physical object?" Roediger touched the edge of the disk as he spoke.
"Has it been tested for radioactive output? Are there disease factors possibly involved?"
"The AAF men who found it put a Geiger counter on it," Sally said. "There is no radiation."
"What about X-rays? Neutrons?"
"Doctor Benning, the main reason we're here is to develop a program. To make a beginning."
"Mr. Stone."
"Yes, Dr. Toole?"
"This temporal effect interests me. Is there a written report? Were any measurements taken, data gathered?"
"The man went on a brief reconnaissance into the vehicle, carrying only a flashlight. Nobody can account for the fact that nine hours passed, least of all the man himself."
Edwards regarded me. "Were you the individual who entered the craft?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Just answer the question."
"Yes is the short answer."
"Then I have another question."
Will managed a smile. A weak one, I suspect. Edwards had a quick and challenging mind.
"My second question is, why do you look like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you haven't slept in days, like you've just lost a great deal of weight. Did being inside the vehicle affect your health?"
"I went in, located and retrieved the best-preserved of the three bodies, then exited the craft. I apparently kept telling the people waiting for me outside that I was fine, and not to come in after me. They questioned me every fifteen minutes for the full nine hours. I don't remember saying a thing to them."
Dr. Roediger got a flashlight from the box of equipment Sally had arranged. He peered into the craft. "This is obviously living quarters. Wrecked by an explosion."
"The thing came down during a thunderstorm," Sally said.
"How odd," Edwards commented.
"Why odd?"
"That somebody this advanced would still have trouble with thunderstorms."
Roediger spoke. "Obviously they wouldn't. I think that we can safely assume that this thing was intentionally crashed. It's a plant."
"Complete with dead crew?" Benning said. "I hardly think so."
"Maybe the crew was supposed to eject. Maybe they don't care about things like dead crew." Roediger pulled himself up into the device.
"Doctor, don't do that." Will's voice revealed his fear.
"I won't go any farther in. I just want to get the feel of it."
"Gentlemen," Sally reminded them, "the first order of business today is the autopsy."
Edwards flared. "This is ridiculous. You want me to autopsy the bodies of apparent alien beings with no preparation, no prior knowledge of the anatomy—nothing at all to go on."
"It's deteriorating too rapidly. We can't wait," Will said.
"It was X-rayed last night," Sally added. "The whole body. The films will be there to use as a guide."
Will was relieved when Roediger emerged from the disk,
"There's decorative work in the paper screens," he said. "Flowers. Yellow primroses, I believe."
"Yes, we noticed that."
"And purple writing on the walls."
"Calculations, I thought."
"I wonder if it isn't poetry? Things written by men far from home." Roediger worked with his pipe.
"You probably shouldn't smoke in here," Sally said.
"Of course."
They were like bees in a flower garden, the way they circled and danced about the disk. They examined its skin, measured it with tape measures, took notes on the clipboards she had provided.
The scene from the night before kept replaying itself in Will's mind. He could still feel those clammy fingers on him. As a matter of fact, he feels them to this day. He said to me, "I'd been taken to one hell of an ugly place in myself."
Rape is more than an act of violence against the body, it is an assault on the soul. Worse for Will, though, must have been the fact that he had felt such a strong response.
"It's all right, Willy." Had he accepted those words, he would have been a free man. Even if he had still died alone, he would have been able to look back on a life with some love in it. I feel sorry for the man, never having been loved, never except when he was a tiny boy.
"Gentlemen," Sally said, "we have to get to the autopsy right now."
"We have three cadavers," Will added.
"And one middle-level pathologist," Edwards said. Will was worried by the bitterness in his voice. Was he going to let them down?
"You have adequate credentials," Sally said.
"Adequate! You need the best man in the world for this. What about Rowland or Dowling? Why me, plucked out of a pretty average sort of a career? Arguably, this is the most important autopsy that has ever been done. Why me?"
"And what about the rest of us? We're all good, I'll agree to that. But where's Fermi or Oppenheimer or John Von Neumann? Frankly, Miss Durby, why any of us? Where are the great men?" Benning's eyes flashed.
"I'll tell you why people like that aren't here," Toole said. "People like that can't be coerced. They also can't be fooled."
"You're all good men," Sally replied. Her voice was smooth, as if she hadn't heard Toole's implications. "We don't want people who might attract press attention simply by their movements. We had to find excellent men who weren't publicly visible."
Edwards was looking more and more unhappy. "Which brings us to the issue of secrecy. You are obviously desperate to hide this whole business, even from a security-cleared community like Los Alamos. I think it's fair to ask your reasons."
"We're still just feeling our way. There have been incidents that suggested hostility. But we aren't sure of anything. Until we are sure, I think you'll agree that things should be kept under wraps."
"I can accept that," Roediger said quickly.
"The people have a right to know." Edwards.
"I think its all damn good fun," said Toole. "It's probably some kind of psychological test—"
Will was fascinated by the man's stubbornness. "You still don't believe the disk is real."
"It's made of paper and tinfoil, and the ribbing is dark-brown wood. Wood! I'll say I don't think it's real. I think it was made in Hollywood."
"The tinfoil, as you call it, cannot be damaged in any way by any means we have yet applied. It's incredibly tough."
"What kind of testing has been done? Are there reports we can read?"
"Dr. Toole, the testing was ad hoc, in the field. We fired bullets into a piece of the foil. Tried to burn the paper, break and saw the wood. We couldn't."
"They came in a ship of tinfoil and paper." Absently, Roediger tapped his pipe against his leg.
"Extraordinary."
"What's extraordinary is that t
he rest of you apparently believe this."
"Of course I do, Dr. Toole," replied Roediger. "If it was less than extremely strange, I would have my doubts."
Toole gave Will such a long searching look that he felt he should add something. "You can reserve judgment until you see the bodies."
"Actually, I believe you now," Toole said. "Not because of this ridiculous disk. My reason is simple, Mr.
Stone. I believe you because you are so incredibly scared."
Will could hear something dripping in the depths of the room. "I think that you should all witness the autopsy," he said. "If Dr. Edwards will agree."
They all followed Edwards into the autopsy room.
TOP SECRET—MAJIC
SUBJECT: AUTOPSY REPORT # 1
DATE: 7/14/47
COPY ONE OF THREE
INITIAL FINDINGS UPON EXAMINATION
AND AUTOPSY OF THE BODY OF AN
APPARENT ALIEN CREATURE
1. External Appearance
This body was observed to be in a state of significant deterioration. It had been preserved with formaldehyde solution but not otherwise dissected.
The cadaver was 44 inches long with a weight of 27 pounds when the preservative solution had been drained.
The external appearance of this cadaver was of a human embryo with an enlarged cranium. Hands and feet were normal. Finger- and toe-nails had been pared. Fingerprints of a swirl-left pattern were observed and taken. All ten fingers and toes were apparent. There was some vestigial webbing between first and second fingers and toes .
Sexual organs appeared to be those of a male. They were in an embryonic state and revealed no evidence of pubescence.
Ears were partially formed, and showed some evidence of surgical intervention. Folds of skin had been drawn out from the surface of the scalp in an apparent attempt to create the impression of a more fully developed ear than was actually present.
Lips were vestigial and the mouth contained no erupted teeth. The nose was also in an incomplete state of growth and had also received surgical intervention, resulting in what appeared to be a very thin and delicate organ.
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