Children of Tomorrow Page 16

  It’s going to be difficult. We thought for a while that somebody might coast through the defenses of this planet, and turn his motors on for landing only. But that is no longer considered feasible.

  But that’s how we got here. What’s wrong?

  Be calm, my son. You may remember that as soon as we realised what star system the human fleet seemed to be heading for - this one - you and I jumped ahead, using our special high speed system for small, stripped-down ships. We arrived here three weeks before they did, before the people here were warned. And so we were able to make a landing.

  You mean, that won’t work anymore?

  I regret, my son, that will not work anymore. So here is what you must do. We’ll use the officer who flies the Omni vulture class spacecraft.

  The one who took Susan for a ride?

  Yes. You use the same method by which we controlled your human father, Jaeger, just enough so that he’ll fly you to us. Our engineers would like to have a look at one of those Omni- vulture types. Apparently, they have enormous destructive power.

  But what do I do? How do I get into the ship?

  You stated that, according to Susan Lane, he must fly such a ship periodically. Find out from Susan or Dolores where he lives. Go to see him. Use the control method. Go with him. No problem. You have the two capsules still, do you not?

  What mil happen to him?

  The father’s answering thought reflected military hardness: We cannot let these people discover our methods. So, of course, he will not be allowed to return. The invisible energy duplicate of an alien operating from a spaceship six light-hours away broke off: My son, 1 must end this. You understand your instructions?

  I guess so .. . Reluctantly, the boy answered. The outfit keeps me so busy these days. I've got seven little kids to supervise. It’s kind of interesting, but it will make it difficult to find spare time to go and look for Captain Sennes.

  My dear son, the time for you to act is now, while your human father is in the hospital. After all, you had to skip some duty in order to meet me out here.

  That’s true. One little boy._ I’ve still got to go talk to him before I go home.

  Then we'd better end this quickly. But one more thing. As you know, it’s easy to get out of Spaceport, but hard to get back in., So, in going back in, why don't you pretend that you were going to run away but changed your mind? what mil happen if you use that excuse?

  They'll probably turn me over to my outfit, and Til be put on probation the way Susan was.

  See how easy it is.. Well, good-bye, my son. Take care, now’ Good-bye.

  During the entire time that the mental conversation went on, Bud was shuffling back to the Subsurface. As the invisible energy unit disappeared, he walked awkwardly to the elevator. The door was still standing open, as he had left it. He entered, and pushed the button. The sliding door slid noiselessly shut. A moment later, the light above the door showed that the elevator was going down. As it happened, his timing was perfect. Approximately a minute later, the next Subsurface heading toward Spaceport stopped and picked him up.

  John Lane returned to the office just in time to answer a call from a Lieutenant Koenig. The lieutenant was a Port of Entry officer, and what he had to say was that Bud Jaeger, a teen-age boy, had re-entered Spaceport at 4.09 p.m. The officer reported that Bud had been allowed into the barriered city without com-’ merit. He concluded, ‘However, Commander, in checking with Security, we learned that this family is under observation for a special reason, and therefore we make this verbal report, and will follow it with a written report.’

  'Thank you,’ said Lane, sitting there at his desk, with the huge wall viewplate overshadowing him. He was briefly silent, considering the information. The call, and its import, had triggered an old pattern in him. He had a way of discussing nonessential, or obvious, data with official personnel in such a fashion that the other person came out of it appearing intelligent and somehow liked him for having given them the opportunity. So now he added, ‘You say the boy claims he ran away, and then he thought better of it?’

  ‘Yes. He represented himself as being fearful of what would happen to him when his father got out of the hospital/

  The man in the huge room, with its great computer and its other equipment towering around him, smiled grimly. ‘It would seem to me, Lieutenant Koenig, that he has a valid fear. Did he say what changed his mind?’

  “He decided, Commander, that the outfits would be able to protect him.'

  ‘Oh!’ said Lane. He scowled. He was again trapped, without realising it, into the certainty that the boy was in fact the genuine Bud Jaeger. The expression on his face, the way he held himself in his chair, also accepted as truth that the situation with the outfits was exactly the same kind of stereotype that he had reaffirmed it to be after his interview with Len Jaeger. The accompanying hard thoughts altered his conciliatory manner on the phone. He said curtly, ‘That remains to be seen.’ He broke off, ‘Thank you very much, Lieutenant. I appreciate your call.’

  And that was the abrupt ending of that conversation.

  Another one began almost at once. Because, as he broke the connection with Koenig, the intercom on his gleaming metal desk buzzed; and Andrew Scott’s voice said, ‘I’ll be right in, Commander. I have an important message.’ Lane replied, ‘Very good!’ He sat for a moment in silence, still held by his previous thoughts. His lips were compressed. His eyes stared slanting to one side, where some gadgetry was clicking away with lights flickering in an irregular way.

  Behind him, the little door at the far end of the computer opened. The plumpish secretary entered briskly, closed the door and came diagonally forward. He evidently made the assumption that he was expected, for he started talking while he was still en route: It’s very urgent, sir. The Commission is in session on this K energy thing, and has been calling every fifteen minutes.’

  At that point Lane turned, and there must have been something in his expression that was critical. The efficient Mr Scott came to a peculiar gulping stop. In the silence (between them) Lane sat stiffly in his chair, and his somber gaze fixed on the liaison secretary’s suddenly unhappy countenance. Scott sensed - his face showed - an imminent reprimand. And he was correct. This was a military man he was dealing with. In the services no one is presumptuous — for long.

  The expected (dread) words came. Lane abruptly leaned back in his chair, and met the pale eyes of the other with his own gaze. He said coldly, ‘Mr Scott, is it your custom to come barging in on people?’

  He had a contrite man in front of him. ‘I beg your pardon, Commander. I really do believe in protocol. We live in a very tense atmosphere,’ That was his tactful way of reintroducing the purpose of his precipitant arrival.

  The seated man was mollified. ‘Very well, Mr Scott. Is there anything more to your message?’

  Scott did not hesitate. He was as quick to recognise when a crisis had passed as when it was pending. He said in his confidential tone. ‘I sense frayed tempers, Commander, and dark impulses. Mr Reid has called privately to say that it looks like the fleet will be ordered to move.’

  Lane was astonished. But that means they’re alarmed by a little spying, which - and this is what’s important — we have been dealing with.’ He compressed his lips in a way that combined an unhappy smile with an attitude that he faced a disagreeable task. Slowly, however, his face relaxed. He began to nod his head, as if a decision were forming. He said at last, without looking up, ‘Mr Scott we must react to foolishness with truth and sincerity. If everyone followed their impulse of rage and outrage, we’d have a fairly sad situation. My impulse was to invite the members of the Commission to come out with the fleet. Invite them, that is, if they should actually insist on the fleet going out to do battle because the enemy managed a little spying - ’

  He was interrupted. The efficient secretary acquired a strange, eager expression. ‘Would you invite me, sir? I’ve never seen action.’

  The commander shook his h
ead with a frown. ‘I’ve just told you, Mr Scott, these are impulses of outrage, and it would be very inadvisable for anyone in position of command to yield to them. What I do propose to do is make another K energy test on myself. Phone the Commission and say I’m on my way over. Then phone my wife and tell here I’ll be home for dinner.’ He stood up. ‘I plan to go to my residence without protection, using the Subsurface exactly as I did on the occasions when I collected the K energy in my skin. Then I shall return here tonight, and make the test.’

  He walked around the desk, and headed for the corridor door. There he paused, turned, and stood for a moment thoughtful. ‘I do agree,’ he said finally, ‘that we must intensify defense and security where possible.’

  With that, he opened the door, stepped out into the hall, and closed the door behind him. After he had gone, Scott made two phone calls - as he had been instructed by Lane - to the Commission and to Estelle. And then, having broken the second connection, he button-pressed a third number, and said, ‘What is the status of Len Jaeger?’ He nodded, as the answer came, and finally repeated aloud, ‘He will be released from the hospital in the morning. Thank you - ’

  That call completed, he walked to the small end of the computer, opened the door there, stepped through it, and closed it. In the commander’s office, the tireless machinery blinked its lights, continued its intermittent clacking - and on the great viewplate the star scene showed several changes.

  Out there the ships were moving.

  After his phone call to Susan, Mike returned to where Marianne waited, and said, ‘I’ve got a couple of kids to supervise. And you have to go and see that five-year-old girl who wants to play with boys — sack?1 ‘'Sack,’ she said listlessly.

  She was turning away, a cute but distressed teen-age girl in a blue dress - when the boy came up from behind her in his quick way. Gently, he placed his cheek against hers in such a way that he faced in the same direction as she. ‘C’mon, moocher,’ he urged affectionately. ‘A good jabber does his duty. You sack that?’

  The girl drew a deep breath. She was visibly influenced by his action. But she merely swallowed; said nothing.

  Mike continued, ‘In one week, Susan’ll be inside the outfit once more, behaving like a jabber again.’

  Several adults walked past them as they stood there, absorbed in each other and with their outfit problem. The boy and the girl did not notice. Marianne said finally, “But a week is such a long time. Why not two days? Or just tomorrow?’

  To Mike, hers was an irrational appeal. He withdrew his cheek from hers. ‘I only follow the rules,’ he said. He glanced at his watch. As he looked up from that momentary act, he parted his lips to speak again. Instead, his gaze went beyond her. An odd expression came into his face. Marianne turned quickly - and then her eyes widened, also.

  The husky blond boy, who had come up while they were so intent, glanced from one to the other, and smiled. ‘Whee, Marianne; whee, Mike,’ he said,

  ‘Whee, Lee.’ The two who had been addressed, spoke the words almost simultaneously.

  ‘Where’s Susan?’ asked Lee. ‘Has anyone seen her?’ His tone was mild. He clearly had no suspicion of anything. And an instantly anguished Marianne gave Mike a disturbed look. Involuntarily, she turned her back on Lee, and faced Mike. Her lips framed the words: Oh, you should have told him!

  Mike was noticably token aback. ‘Uh!’ he said. ‘Uh!’ He was abruptly pale. And yet, a moment later, he was bracing himself, already recovering from his brief state of shock. His quick mind and his determined spirit rallied to the situation. In an even, yet tense voice, he described Susan’s phone call to him of the night before. He reported her words correctly. He told of Dolores’s ‘confession’ on Susan’s behalf, and what he and the other outfit leaders had decided in view of Susan being Lee’s moocher. He finished, ‘So she’s out of the outfit for a week. That’s the decision.’

  The older boy had listened to the summary, and every instant his Ups and face grew tighter and less friendly. As Mike finished the account, Lee said explosively, ‘No!’ Just like that his face was set and white. His eyes narrowed with anger, and he glared with total truculence at Mike. ‘You started this madness, and I’m not letting you continue. We had a perfectly good little jabber in Susan until you messed her up with facing her for no reason. That’s going to stop right now.’

  ‘It’s too late,’ Mike managed to say. ‘It’s all settled.’

  ‘It’s not settled,’ said the blond boy, and his rage was now on the level of clenched teeth. ‘Mr Mike Sutter, you get those outfit leaders over to your place tonight, and we’re going to find out what you’re up to. I’m beginning to have the feeling that you’re trying to take over the Red Cat outfit with these sly maneuvers. Well, you’d better watch it, Mr Sutter, or you’ll be outside the Red Cats. Sack?’

  The younger boy was shaken. ‘I’ve only done my outfit duty/ he protested.

  Lee did not seem to hear. ‘So busy leading the outfit,’ he went on savagely, ‘that you didn’t even remember that I’m to be ini formed.’

  The resilient Mike was recovering again. ‘It’s a special situ’ ation,’ he argued, ‘Everybody agreed that it was.’

  I don’t agree!’ raged Lee. ‘Now, are you going to do what I said, or not?’

  Mike stood very still for a long moment. He was tense. His was the white face now, an inner struggle against a feeling of degradation. ‘I suppose,’ he muttered, ‘what you’re feeling and what I’m feeling right now, is why we have jabbers scraping their outfits. Well, it’s not going to happen to me.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll call Johnny Sammo and Tom Clanton, and maybe a couple of others as peacemakers, and we’ll meet this evening/

  ‘I want you on my and Susan’s side at that meeting/ demanded Lee.

  Mike stared at him, astounded. ‘I am on Susan’s side,’ he said finally.

  ‘You’ve almost ruined that jabber,’ said Lee. ‘So you either make amends tonight, or this outfit isn’t going to be big enough to hold you and me.’

  The younger boy had hold of himself again. “You almost sound like Susan is your girl friend and not just your moocher,’ he said.

  ‘That’s a lie,’ said Lee grimly. ‘That’s twisting good intentions, and I think there’s been a little too much of that from you in Susan’s case. Suddenly the rule on an actual first offense was not good enough for your conscience. At worst, she merited a warning. But this wasn’t even an actual offense - established as such. It was only a possible.’

  The continuing attack was having its effect on Mike. He half turned away, and there was grief in his eyes. His lower Up quivered.

  Lee said, Tush it out. What is it?1

  In a badly shaken voice, Mike said. 'Lee, all this has happened to Susan since her father came back from that long hike - have you scanned that?’

  Lee nodded, suddenly calmer. ‘Sack.’ But he added, ‘That’s chatter. Nothing Mr Lane has done comes under any rule.’

  ;,He mated her to that sailor, and she sucked it.’

  Lee defended, ‘You yourself have pushed that Susan chattered that she saw the sailor for the last time, last night. That it was good-bye,’ He broke off. ‘Never mind, We’ll line it up tonight. Sack?’

  ‘Sack,’ said Mike.

  Lane ate dinner that night with an almost silent Estelle and a gloomy Susan. He was not at first too aware of their moods, being somewhat preoccupied himself. But truth was he was an alert, healthy, observant man. And he presently emerged from his own thoughts sufficiently to glance at his wife and then at Susan. His eyes narrowed. Several fairly direct questions thereupon produced the truth about Susan and her week’s expulsion from the outfit.

  ‘Oh!’ said the man then. He spoke a little blankly. He sat finally, adjusting his thoughts to the new deyelopment, examining its possibilities. They were so amazingly great, fitting - it seemed to him - completely into his own purposes that he actually had to restrain himself from talcing advantage too swiftly. “Let me think
about this,’ he said, and the words were a barrier to himself.

  He ate slowly, aware of his wife’s suspicious gaze on him. In the end, he began with a question: ‘Are you guilty?’ he asked the girl.

  She shook her head. “Not really. It’s a misunderstanding. Mike is the problem, I’m sure. He’s the conscience of the outfit,’- Lane persisted, ‘Is this why you were sick today?’

  Susan nodded, but said nothing.

  ‘So,’ continued the man, ‘I gather it bothers you.’ When she was silent, he urged, ‘Is that still true?’

  She swallowed. A tear trickled down one cheek. Her blue eyes misted, and she wouldn’t look directly at him.

  It was a sufficient answer. And so Lane said, ‘It’s very simple. When the week is up, you just don’t go back.’ He happened, or rather felt impelled, to glance in the direction of Estelle as he said those words. Her blue eyes were frozen flame, glaring at him. It required a little more effort after that, to continue. But he did it, ‘We’ll put you in a private school outside Spaceport,’ he said to Susan. ‘You won’t have to go back to this school, not even to- morrow, not another day.’

  ‘Oh, dad - ’ Susan abruptly, with a shrug of her shoulders dismissed the offer. ‘You can’t do that. The outfits don’t allow tilings like that.’

  Lane still had complete control of himself, and so he merely considered the remark. His expression showed a minor bewilderment. Finally, he said, ‘I have to admit it. I find it a little difficult to grasp exactly and precisely what the hell they could do about it.’

  Susan’s face took on a severe look. ‘Dad, I must remind you. One of the outfit rules is that no swearing or coarse language is permitted in the presence of a jabber.’

  He had to smile at that, withal grimly. He said, “You’ve just told me that for one week you’re not a jabber.’

  Over at her side of the table, the wife and mother, respectively, of the two other persons in the room, stirred. Then she said to her daughter, ‘Darling, don’t get involved in an exchange of repartee with your father. He’s a precisionist, and hits below the belt.’ She finished, ‘Obviously, your father doesn’t realise the penalties to himself of what he is proposing, so why don’t you just finish your meal and go back to bed?’