He stared at her, absorbing what she said and weighing it. Something stirred in him in answer to her, because she was making such sense. He wanted to express it, but all that came forth was, “You have changed, Kelly. Astoundingly.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” She sat down beside him. He didn’t shy away. Her hand covered his, and then her arms were about him, and he was holding her closely and tightly. His sense of guilt ebbed in the embrace. He had paid the debt.
She murmured into his ear,” I think we’re worthy of each other now. We’ve grown up, and I had a terrible lot of it to do.”
“And I,” he answered. “I’ve discovered my own weaknesses, finally, and surprisingly enough, it hasn’t made me vulnerable.”
He kissed her, then drew her still closer. All that he had wanted a few weeks before was suddenly his, born out of horror and guilt and despair, but his. And all the sweeter because of it.
“I don’t ever want to move again,” he said to her.
“No, Linc. We can have tonight. But tomorrow I must give you back to Iverson. Promise that you’ll go?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The lab was deserted, with only a skeleton crew on duty, but this morning it held no loneliness for Linc. He was still discouraged, but not lonely. Kelly had filled that gap.
He wandered the halls, looking in on the reactor, hunting halfheartedly for Iverson, ending up in the artificial-gravity room. This was the actual heart of the lab. The rest was icing, built to support it. Here was Iverson’s heart, too. This room was the culmination of years of study, the focus of many lives, and the hope for the future of space travel. Designed to create gravity, it was already partly successful. The principles learned here applied to a space cabin could make men’s journey into the stars bearable.
Now, he wondered, would there ever be such a journey to the stars? The stars had come to them and promised to drain the Earth.
A sound at the door turned him around, and Iverson was there, hesitant, not quite sure what to say.
“You, too, Doc?” Linc murmured.
“Me, too? Oh—you mean being drawn to this room. Yes, me, too. I suppose I came to be a morbid witness of the end of this, and everything else we have worked for. I didn’t expect to find you.”
Linc made one of the few awkward apologies of his life. “If you’ll let me, Dr. Iverson, I’d like to come back. Not that I’ll be of any help. But I’ll be here.”
“Let you?” Iverson came all the way in. “I tried to reach you six times last night to ask you to return.”
“You’re not still hoping I can pull us back from disaster?”
“I suppose I was—last night,” the old man admitted. “But, looking at you, I see that you have no such hope. Still, I’m glad you’re here. And I wouldn’t have said that a month ago.”
Linc nodded. “I understand. I was a great troubleshooter, but not much of a human being.” He shifted, uneasy with the ground they were on. “What’s the program here?”
“The plan stands. Tomorrow the first bomb will be detonated. Washington has given us the go-ahead, and Collins still hopes the explosion will destroy the Eyes.”
“It won’t.”
“I know it. But men don’t throw away their last hope easily. What bothers me is that we can’t finish our evacuation. We’ve withdrawn all controls. People can leave as they wish. But there will be some who won’t go, or who have to stay for other reasons.”
“And the ones in the hole,” Linc added.
Iverson paced the chamber. “This is a hard blow to an old man, Linc. My life is in this room, thirty years of it. I started research into artificial gravity years ago, working on the side, at my own expense, because I couldn’t obtain a grant. Then when the goal is in sight, and I finally get total support and even a RUSH priority, it all goes up in smoke. It isn’t fair, you know?”
Iverson was older in that moment than Linc had ever seen him—wrinkled and lined and moist-eyed.
I knew I could never go with them,” Iverson continued. “I had no dreams of actually going into space. But I did want to send part of myself, and help them get there.”
“We’re all in the same boat, Doc. We must face the brute fact that no one is needed any more. The monsters will run our world, and gravity is the last thing they’ll need. Earth has too much of it for them.”
“Yes—the great slugs. Earth wasn’t made for them! Can’t they see that? Earth isn’t a dead, radioactive world!”
“On the other hand,” Linc mused, following his own Linc of thought, “if the Eyes knew about this room, they might demand use of it. Here, with the mechanism working in reverse, gravity could be lessened, and they’d be comfortable.”
“It doesn’t work in reverse.”
“I know it. But you could fix it so it did. You might salvage your work, after all.” He was offering anything he could, to erase the dreadful despair from Iverson’s face.
“I wouldn’t spend a minute of my effort to accommodate them. I’ll go down with the rest of the human race.”
Linc no longer heard him. His mind had caught hold of his own words and was busy with their implications. He sat up straighter.
“Doc!” he cried. “Maybe… How many G’s can this room create?”
“That’s top-secret,” Iverson replied automatically.
“But can it duplicate any more than earth normal?”
“It can. And secrets don’t apply now, do they? This room can make five G’s. It’s a side effect? I only wanted earth normal, but in getting it, I got more than I bargained for.”
“Five gravities. That should do it.”
“Should do what?”
“Iverson—we have to kill those monsters, right? To be rid of them, we have to kill them, and so far that has seemed impossible.”
“It is impossible. They heal themselves.”
“They heal, yes. But what is their greatest fear, their greatest worry? Food! And that’s how we must kill them, by starving them to death. They can’t heal starvation.”
“I see your point, and it’s finally the right point. But how?”
“We haven’t much time, and I’ll need help all down the Linc. I want to use this room. I want to use men. Will you help me?”
“Sight unseen, and unheard?”
“I’ll give you the details. But it has to be fast. If this works at all, it will take a lot of equipment and a lot of risk. I’m going to lure those monsters here, where I can control them.”
“You mean to say you’ve come up with a plan?”
“What I’ve hit upon is an idea. I haven’t time to plan it out. I can only play it by ear and pray that it evolves into a plan. Here.” Linc picked up a pencil and scribbled fast on a piece of paper. “I’m writing out your part. Work fast and get it ready, Doc.” He handed the paper to Iverson.
“Lead shields?” Iverson grunted. “But why?”
“Just get everything on that list and put it where I’ve written. Right now I have to get to the hole. If I fail in this part, the whole thing’s off. Pray for me.”
He didn’t wait for objections. Iverson would surely object to his endangering himself when he was the only man who knew the plan. Yet what he had in mind could barely be called a plan. It was a hunch that for the moment rested on lead shields, bait and a tremendous risk. The risk was his.
* * * *
The approach to the hole hadn’t changed. The National Guard was still dug in, though further back. He gave them laurels for their persistence. He drove as close to the pit as possible, then walked the rest of the way.
As he walked, he thought fast. How did you lie to a telepathic mind? It had picked his brain before; but then he had been off guard. Perhaps by using great will power, by covering the truth with layer after layer of sheer will, he could bring it off. It would be a dea
dly game.
The entrance was astir with moving shadows. Two Eyes rose out of the depths of the earth. He closed his mind as completely as he could and prepared to battle for every second of his life.
He called them, “Can any of you hear me?”
The Eyes watched him but made no swirls in his head. They were leaving him alone. “I have to talk,” Linc shouted inside his mind, switching to their level of communication.
The two Eyes parted, making room between them, and out of the hole, sailed a huge one, watery-blue, and although they all looked alike, he recognized it as his one-time prisoner.
“Then you did hear?” he asked.
“I heard. You have disturbed us. Why?”
“I’ve come with a proposal—another compromise. I must be heard.”
“Have you come with your answer? Will the bomb be tested on the third day?”
“If you deny my new proposal, it will. But my compromise is a better way, a surer way. Will you listen?” He was sticking close to the truth, using the truth to conceal the lie, and hoping the lie stayed covered.
“I sense great excitement in you,” the Eye whispered. “You are disturbed.”
“I’m worried,” he answered. “So much depends upon this meeting. It’s natural for me to be worried. Please overlook it.”
A sense of doubt came into his brain, and he knew he had failed to win the confidence of the creature. He had to win its trust to keep the Eye from searching deeper. He tried the first thing that popped into mind. Flattery.
“I’ve told my people what you said. We realize what we are up against—your greatness, your power. That you crossed the stars, that alone places us in great awe of you. And, of course, we realize the futility of denying you. We’re prepared to meet your demands. Only, we’ve thought of a better way.”
The doubting subsided slightly. “How can there be a better way?” the Eye asked. “We have thought of this one, so how can there be a better?”
“Forgive me,” Linc continued with servility. “I don’t mean to question your plan. It’s a good plan—for you. But we must consider ourselves, too. You’d think us fools if we didn’t. And in the long run, our plan would secure life. Otherwise, your days might still be numbered.”
There was a new stirring among the Eyes, and Linc realized that all three of them were listening to him.
“Explain yourself,” came the whispered command.
He drew a deep breath to calm his agitation, and said, “I tried to tell you before what radiation would do to my people—even the sporadic radiation you demanded as your compromise. It matters very little whether the bombs are all exploded at once, or one at a time over a long period. The result for us would be the same. To create an atmosphere sufficiently radioactive for you would kill us. And then you would have no one to continue creating the radiation, and ultimately you would die, too.”
A mental grunt thrust out at him. “We hadn’t considered that point. It is well taken. But what is the alternative?”
“My new proposal.” He let concern rise to shield the lie he was about to speak, and pulled bits of truth in to cover it further. “If you will consent to controlled feeding, then we can all be safe. If you allow us to protect ourselves, then we will live to go on feeding you.”
“That is logical. But what is this controlled feeding?”
“I want to take you away from here—out of this place—to the laboratory. You know the lab.” He looked directly at the watery-blue one. “There we can provide you with all the radiation you need. We create it there. We take ordinary substances and make them violently radioactive, enough to give you food and energy forever.”
“And how would you remain safe?” the Eye asked.
“By shielding ourselves. With you in the lab, there would be no need of bombs and fall out. We could protect ourselves against the radiation by staying away while you absorbed your energy. We have equipment to protect us there. You could feast as often as you liked and we could still remain safe and able to prepare you further feasts.”
As he blurted out the thoughts, he immediately filled his brain with pleading and worry, blotting out the real truth that threatened to creep forward. He kept his mind vibrating with hope and anxiety. If he slipped just once—just once…
“If you slipped just once in what?” the Eye demanded.
He grew suddenly cold, with a chill that spread down his spine. “If I slip just once in my duty, in my effort to convince you, then I have killed my own people,” he covered quickly.
It was obviously good enough, for the Eye dug no deeper.
“What is your answer?” he hurried on before they could question him. “If you agree, I can begin preparations immediately. By tomorrow, you will be with me and enjoying a full diet.”
“You understand the amount of radiation we require?” The Eye stressed the point. “We absorb tremendous quantities. The more active we are, the more radiation we need. We will not want to be held down. We do not intend to pass the rest of our existence unable to get about. We will need sufficient energy to nullify your gravity. Can you supply this much without a bomb?”
“Better than with a bomb. It can be concentrated—all for you, not dispersed in the atmosphere.”
The Eyes hovered closely together, and he wished that he could read them. But they had shut him out of their thoughts. His thoughts were theirs whenever they wanted them, but they were able to shut him out.
“You must decide quickly,” he urged. “This will take longer to prepare than a bomb.”
“We see the haste clearly in your mind,” the Eye answered. “It almost hides everything else. Why are you so much in a hurry?”
“I’ve already told you.”
“Very well. We believe you. And we have conferred with our brothers. It has been a long journey through space. A long, hungry journey, and the hopes you conjure of our again knowing satiation are too tempting to ignore. We will do it your way—not out of concern for you and your kind, you realize, but because we value you as providers and wish to keep you safe to continue providing.”
“I couldn’t expect such as you to care for us,” Linc said. It was a two-sided thought. They caught the side he had tired to keep for himself.
“You do not like us! You pretend flattery, but do not like us!”
“You are a threat to us. What else can you expect? We stand in awe of you. Isn’t that enough for the present? We are offering to supply your needs. Isn’t that enough?”
All thought erased from his mind, he waited for the answer, for it would be the final one.
“It is enough,” the answer came. “We will wait for you until tomorrow. Come for us, and we will try your proposal, fully confident that if it does not suit us we can change it at any time. We have that ability. You have seen it. You would not dare deceive us, for that would be the signal for us to spread and bring an end to you.”
“We would not dare,” Linc assured the Eye. “I know that better than anyone else, for I’ve shared your thoughts. Tomorrow, then. I’ll come with men and we’ll transport you to the lab. I won’t ask you to walk. I realize how difficult our gravity is for you. In the meantime, can we consider it settled, and that you will take no more people from us?”
“We have no need of them. Out of all of them, we found only one who was of help to us. Three others had glimmerings of help, but not enough. It is strange that your kind lives so separately. We expected all to know what one knows.”
The Eye was referring to Hendricks—then to Myers, Bennet and Wes. “We don’t have your power of mind,” Linc said. He wanted to get away now. He was exhausted from the long pretense, the long struggle to keep secrets from them.
“You may go.” The Eye read his wish. “Prepare our way. And do it well!”
He retreated from the hole with shivers running down his back where they continued to
watch him out of sight. He had carried it off, but he wasn’t sure he could relax. This contact had held no shadows or swirls; it had been clean and easy, so he had no way of knowing when it was broken.
As he reached his car, he shrugged his worries off. He had to consider the contact broken, for he needed to think out the plan. What would come of it, he didn’t know, but his courage, absent for so many days, was back, and along with it fresh hope and confidence.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
They left the flat vans parked at the edge of the woods and walked the road together, carrying the great stretchers. They walked the road, clad in the awkwardness of radiation suits, and they were all together—all but Linc. He was apart from them through the necessity of keeping the plan to himself.
These Guardsmen who had volunteered to join Kellroy knew only that they were to transport the Zines to the Lab, and that the creatures would be fed a sumptuous dose of radioactivity. That was all they knew, and therefore all the Eyes could pick from their brains.
Linc knew the truth, and he set in play the emotions he had found effective in jamming the discovery that he was lying. For now the plan was set and he had more to cover than before.
The men halted at the start of the ramp. Kellroy swung to Linc. “Do we go down?”
“We have to,” Linc answered. “They can’t take a step. But don’t let that give you any ideas. They don’t need physical strength.”
“And I don’t need to be told.” Kellroy was defensive. Linc paid no attention. He had specifically asked for Kellroy, wanting the man’s bravery and level head. “I still don’t understand the whys of it,” Kellroy complained. “Why should we cater to them?”
“To save ourselves,” Linc told him. It was what Kellroy had to believe. “Come on, Lieutenant, order your men down.”
The branches were nearly bare about them, the color gone with the wind and morning rain, and these steps down, Linc knew, would demand all the courage these soldiers had in their bodies.
As the order was passed along, and a stiffening was visible among the men, Linc took the first stride onto the ramp.
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