“How do you know that?”
He smiled and spread his hands, having picked up the gesture from Tom Cole. ,“Not know, surmise. One day know. One day, no more Boobs.”
Stel sighed and moved her gaze to the window. “I’ve never been really enthusiastic about this venture,” she told him. “I’ve gone along with Tom because it kept him occupied and... and seemed to give him a reason for living. But now that we’re at the point of actually doing something... well... Zach, it frightens me. I don’t think we’ll make it.”
“Make it?” Whaleman echoed. “Mean, not succeed? We will succeed—make it Board will listen to Tom Cole, will understand, will change life of Reevers.”
“Zach, you’re so terribly naive,” Stel complained.
“Unskronk,” he said, aware that she was displeased with him.
“They’re never going to free the Reevers!” she cried. “They’re scared to death of us. We represent everything they fear. We... They—”
“Wait!” Whaleman interrupted. “They? Who are they?"
“The Normers—the governors and managers and—and your precious Board. They’re scared to death of a good old balanced human psyche! Why do you think they’ve gone to such lengths to dehumanize the race? Why do you think...” She ran out of emotion and slumped against the wall, biting her lips, and staring dismally out the window.
“Stel also speaks of dehumanizing,” Whaleman said quietly. “Is Zach dehumanized?”
Her eyes went to his, crackling with emotional intensity, then they softened, and she murmured, “You’re a borderline case, Zach. Whatever you are, I love you—and I guess I’m stuck with that.”
“Stel loves Zach Whaleman?” he said, suddenly beaming. Like same religious?”
She nodded ha head and dropped her eyes. “Like same,” she said softly.
She walked into his arms and pressed her lips to his, pressing warmly into his embrace. The electric kiss tingled Whaleman from head to foot, and he was gathering her into an impassioned response when Blue entered the hut and stood calmly watching them.
Stel was the first to become aware of the intrusion. She pulled away from the heart-pounding embrace, smiled at Whaleman from the doorway, and went out.
Blue said, “Every guy in this camp’s been trying to get next to Stel. No dice. What’s your secret, Zach?”
Slightly dizzied from his rampaging passions, Whaleman gazed drunkenly at the small Reever. “Secret? Yes, is secret, mystery, like religious. Zach will marriage Stel.”
“Not unless you pull your oars right, buddy.”
“Explain pull oars.”
Blue laughed. “That means you have to bring the Reevers out on top.”
The Gunner frowned, then replied, “Freedom? Yes. I will pull oars to freedom.”
“You can’t let yourself get boobed by those Normers,” Blue warned.
Whaleman glanced at himself in the mirror. “Unskronk. Zach is not affected by Boob.”
“There’s more than one way to boob a guy,” Blue pointed out. “You got boobed last night when that patrol squadron came over.”
The Gunner was staring quizzically at the little Reever. “True,” he said presently. “This is important truth.”
“You bet it’s important. You have to get yourself clear off the fence. You know—you have to pick a place to stand and die, and then forget about everything else.”
Whaleman puzzled through the cryptic message, then nodded his head in understanding. “Yes, Blue, I skronk.”
“You can’t let yourself get all torn up inside. You have to pick a side, any side, and then stick with that decision.”
“Skronk,” Whaleman soberly replied.
“You want to give me that penetration frequency now, for Terra 10?”
Whaleman reflected for a moment, then said, “Isolation frequency, yes. Is—”
He was interrupted by a sudden commotion just outside the hut. Blue’s eyebrows rose, and he stepped quickly to the doorway, then hurriedly turned back to say something to the Gunner. Too late—Whaleman was moving quickly behind him. They collided, and Whaleman’s larger bulk propelled the two of them on into the open of the compound.
Blue grunted, “Back! Get back inside!”
Whaleman was aware, however, that it was too late to return to the hut. Tom Cole, Hedge, and Stel stood a few yards away, staring at Whaleman with stricken eyes. A formation of six hover-scooters were idling in the air just above the compound, and already Whaleman had been spotted by the patrol.
An amplified voice of elation called out, “Gunner Whaleman! Thank the Corporation! We feared you dead!”
The Gunner threw a helpless look at Stel and raised a hand in greeting to the patrol. “I live and breathe,” he announced. “But not thanks to the Corporation. Thanks to the Reevers of this commune.”
One of the craft was descending, angling toward a spot directly in front of Whaleman’s position. Stel pulled loose from Tom Cole’s restraining grasp and raced over to the Gunner’s side. He tightly clasped her hand and waited for the scooter to settle. The other scooters had gone to a tight-security formation, a polyhedron with zing-guns covering the entire commune area.
The leader of the patrol squadron stood up in his open-air craft and saluted Whaleman. “We will also salvage your gravcar, Defense Commander,” he reported.
“I know not location of car,” Whaleman truthfully stated. He pointed into the trees. “I was afoot, far away. Attacked by automat. Reevers assisted, many injured, but destroyed automat.” He threw a meaningful glance at Tom Cole and again addressed the patrol leader. “Thanks to Reevers, I am here now, guest. ”
“The commune will be rewarded,” the patrolman replied. “I am instructed to transport Gunner Whaleman to Director Johns-Fielding with all possible haste. Please come aboard.”
Whaleman squeezed Stel’s hand and turned a look of frustration to Tom Cole. The big Reever nodded his head in understanding. Whaleman said, “First, words for Reevers.”
He knew that he would have to be carefully cryptic. The lightest whisper would be picked up by the hovercraft receptors. He kissed Stel on the forehead and said, “Stel Rogers/Brandt, you live forever in Zach Whaleman’s heart.” He released her and clasped Blue’s hand. “Apology, Blue, reward requested is in gravcar.” His eyes emphasized the remark, then swung to Tom Cole. “To you, Tom, thanks that Zach Whaleman is now more alive than ever. You must visit me, in my home, if the heavens will allow.”
The two big men shook hands, using the tight Reever grip of friendship, and Whaleman squeezed with unneeded pressure. Whaleman stepped toward the hovercar, and Stel intercepted him with a flying lunge, throwing herself into his arms with a sudden eruption of tears. He kissed her tenderly on the lips and pushed her gently away, then climbed aboard the scooter.
The patrol leader made room for him up front while commenting, under his breath, “You should have been a Gov Manager, Gunner. You seem to have won them over completely.”
The craft was already rising. Whaleman fastened himself into the motion-arrestor as he replied, “Reever mind skronks emotional formalities.”
The patrolman chuckled and punched a button to bring the bubble-cover into place. Whaleman waved to those below, realizing for the first time how much they had won him over. The Reevers were standing about in silent, dejected clumps. Two or three returned his wave, and then they were gone, the commune was gone, and the continent was quickly disappearing beneath the full-speed acceleration of the patrol scooter.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The New Dimension
“Make your report, and quick!” Johns-Fielding commanded his aide. “I am supposed to be in a board meeting at this very moment.”
“News is good,” the Squadroneer reported, poker-faced. “Gunner Whaleman has been located, alive and well. Is this moment enroute to Board Island.”
“Thank—! What is his explanation of the absence?”
“Unreported,” Bond-Durant replied. “The Gunner
reserves report for personal ear of Defense Director. However, patrolman states Gunner Whaleman rescued from Reever commune, North America.”
The Director was moving toward the door to the Boardroom. “Bring him to me as soon as he arrives.”
“Skronk.” The big spaceman seemed to hesitate momentarily, then added, “Meanwhile, emergency alternatives continue re Terra 10. Should alternates be canceled?”
“No, not yet,” Johns-Fielding snapped. “And, uh, until the Gunner has completely accounted for his activities of the past two days, he is to learn nothing of our present emergency situation. Skronk?”
“Skronk.” Bond-Durant dropped off, and headed for his own office. The Director went into the boardroom, quietly took his place at the circular table, and tried to look unruffled.
A small, square automat sat on the council table directly in front of the empty chair of the Chairman of the Board. With Johns-Fielding’s arrival, the other twelve chairs were now occupied.
A whirring voice issued from the automat. “It is noted that all Directors are present. Second Emergency Board of Solan Decade 33 is convened. Negative reports from action items issuing from First Emergency Board will first be heard. Report.”
The man in the first chair, left, cleared his throat and clearly enunciated, “Agriculture, no negatives.”
The man to his left reported, “Commerce, no negatives.”
Johns-Fielding followed with, “Defense, one negative. Defer report for re-call.”
“Deferment noted,” the automat whirred, “and accepted by Chairman. Proceed with negative reports.”
The director to Johns-Fielding’s left began speaking. Johns-F.elding let out a quiet sigh and began formulating a delaying speech. He hoped that he would not have to stall too long, that Gunner Whaleman would arrive even before the re-call of his deferred report. He wished also that the Chairman would personally attend these meetings. That damn automat had a way of cutting right through stalling tactics.
“Technology, no negatives,” another director was reporting.
Johns-Fielding fidgeted and made ready. Damn that Whaleman. It was looking as though Defense was the only negative in the house.
The Reevers stood around in stunned apathy for several minutes after Whaleman’s departure. It all happened too fast. At one moment, they had stood poised upon the threshold of freedom and dignity—the next moment, their one doorway into that new life was himself crawling into a police craft and rising into the sky which had forever been denied them.
After an interval of shocked silence, Hedge noisily cleared his throat and muttered, “Well, that’s that. I knew it was too good to be true.”
“Now, just wait a minute,” Tom Cole rumbled. “Don’t everybody run right out and slash his wrists. Not yet.” He turned to gaze speculatively at Stel.
Blue said, “I thought for a minute there he wasn’t going to go with ’em. Then he just climbs in with a few jolly words and—and he’s up, up, and away.”
Cole ignored the comment and said to Stel, “What about it, girl? Is he coming back, or not?”
“I don’t know,” she replied in a faint voice. “It sounded as though he was telling us something else. But I’m more worried about him now than us. If they find out that he... ” Her voice died away, and she gazed helplessly at her chief.
“Well, he left the gravcar with us,” Cole said thoughtfully. “And he invited me to come up and see ’im sometime.”
“That’s what worries me the most,” Stel replied. “If he turns in a false report about that car, and they find out, they’ll—they’ll...”
Blue chuckled. “Don’t worry about that big Reever-in-disguise. He knows what he’s doing. Did anyone catch the message he gave me?"
“I was getting around to asking you that,” Tom Cole said.
“I’ve been working on him all morning to give me the radio frequency that penetrates the gunship’s isolation shield,” Blue reported. “Well, he gave it to me. I hope that’s what he gave me. Said it’s in the gravcar. ”
“So he is still with us!” Hedge exulted.
“Of course, he is,” Tom Cole growled. He was staring thoughtfully at Blue. “So what do you think he’s planning?”
Blue shrugged his shoulders. “I think he’s left the next move up to us. Look, Tom, he left us the gravcar. He gave us the radio frequency. And he, uh, invited us to call on him. How much more explicit could the guy be, with electronic ears beamed at us?”
Cole nodded his head. “All right, I been with the play all along, I just wanted to see if it made that kind of sense to someone else, too. Okay—so let’s say that he’s planning on seizing the gunship, just like we talked about. He’s going to isolate her and Board Island. And the next move is up to us.”
Don’t be too sure of all that,” Stel murmured. “He’s liable to get back among those Normers and begin seeing everything differently.”
“Stel,” Cole said testily, “I’m cutting you out of the council, right now. A woman in love isn’t fit to make command decisions. I guess right now you’re hoping he won't endanger himself.”
Stel flushed a bright crimson. She said, “You can cut me out of the council, but you just try cutting me out of any thing involving Zach Whaleman!”
The chieftain dropped his eyes away from the coldly determined gaze of Stel Rogers/Brandt. He chuckled to cover his embarrassment and turned quickly to Hedge. “Think you can figure out how to get that gravcar into open space?” he asked quietly.
Hedge nodded. “I been studying ’er. There might be some trial and error, but I think I can handle it.”
“Blue?” Cole said. “You got any worries about the communications end?”
“I’ll need some time with the gravcar,” Blue replied. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. Her radio gear must have a channel on the isolation frequency. I just have to find it. No worries, Tom.”
“Then let’s start our preparations right now,” the leader said. “Hedge, get the raiding teams together. Stel, see that their uniforms are proper. Blue, you check out the radio stuff, and then get someone busy provisioning that gravcar with food and water ... and whatever else we might need. Hedge, go over that car real careful ... make sure she’s spaceworthy and capable of hauling a full load.”
“I can’t hardly believe it’s happening,” Hedge commented, grinning.
“It’s happening,” Cole assured him.
Stel said, “I can handle more than the uniform problem.”
“Course you can,” her chief agreed, smiling broadly. “You help Blue with the provisions, then you come over and sit in on our timing drill.”
“I’m going with you, you know,” she murmured.
“Aw, now Stel, ” Cole rumbled.
“I’m going,” she declared flatly, and walked away to begin her first task.
Zach Whaleman marched stonily up the steps to Board Central. A tall figure came forward to greet him as he crossed the porch, calling out, “Ho, Gunner,” in a familiarly mechanical voice.
Whaleman wondered if this was the way he had sounded to the Reevers.
He replied, “Ho, Squadroneer,” and went on to touch hands with Mark Bond-Durant, a tele-circuit acquaintance of some years.
The Defense Director’s aide inspected the Terra 10 Commander with critical eyes. “The Gunner has been injured,” he commented.
“Is minor,” Whaleman replied, being careful not to lapse into the musically conversational tone he had picked up during his short visit among the Reevers.
Whaleman replied, “Saved by Reevers. Attacked by automat.”
They walked along in silence for a moment, turned the comer toward the Board’s wing, then the Gunner said, “Repeating, attacked by automat. Comment?”
“No comment,” Bond-Durant clipped back. He hesitated briefly, then said, “Zach ... Terra 10 activation schedule is accelerated. DDO is redbailed on non-performance. Action Item is negative. Skronk?”
“Skronk,” the
Gunner replied, staring stonily forward.
“DDO requires full accounting from Gunner Whaleman to explain glitch.”
Whaleman snapped his head about and angrily eyed the Squadroneer. “Zach Whaleman requires full accounting from Board to explain automat attacking human.”
Bond-Durant slowed his pace and pulled Whaleman to a dead halt. “Solan Emergency is declared,” he advised the Gunner. “Terra 10 is negative Action Item. Skronk? Is redbail for DDO. All else is minor.”
Whaleman stubbornly held his ground. “Redbail for DDO is not indicate end of Solana.”
The Squadroneer stiffened noticeably. “Gunner will report all facts re glitch to Director Johns-Fielding,” he commanded. “All else is minor.”
“You’d better not bet on that, buddy!” Gunner Whaleman blurred musically. He wheeled about and entered the boardroom, closing the door on the aghast face of the DDO aide.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Strike Three
Zach Whaleman knew that he was on a collision course with his own destiny. He was fully aware that the unquestioned goals of his lifetime were now being scanned by the probing light of his fast-awakening intellect, and that the answers pouring out were far more disturbing than any considerations of corporate discipline. Not only goals, but values also were under attack by his new consciousness.
Many questions he would like to hurl at that Board of Directors—such as, “Why is man exiled from his own planet? What is the value of life without individual dignity? Was the race actually becoming dehumanized—and, if so, to what sane purpose? What was the net effect?” Blue had told him, in one of his casual asides, that the Solan population was becoming more and more antlike with each generation. Antlike? Was this the net effect, the ultimate goal of mankind? Mass specialization within a rigid society?
He would like to ask the Board, “Why can’t I plant a son in the woman of my choosing? By what right do you impose pregnancy permits and restrictions? By what right do you bring forth new life with a program tape for a brain?” Oh yes, he would like to ask these questions of the wise ones. Perhaps, someday, he would—or perhaps, someday, the asking would be superfluous. For the moment, he would temper his challenge with the requirements of immediate need. Whaleman was, after all, a product of the superlogical society. Even his revolt would move along what was, to him, a logical line.
Don Pendleton's Science Fiction Collection, 3 Books Box Set, (The Guns of Terra 10; The Godmakers; The Olympians) Page 8