The shrilling of the proximity alarm blasted through the silence. For a
wild moment I thought Kayle had beaten me to the punch; then I realized
it was the routine DEW line patrol contact.
"Z four-oh-two, I am reading your IFF. Decelerate at 1.8 gee
preparatory to picking up approach orbit...."
The screen went on droning out instructions. I fed them into the
autopilot, at the same time running over my approach plan. The scout
was moving in closer. I licked dry lips. It was time to try.
I closed my eyes, reached out--as the Gool mind had reached out to
me--and felt the touch of a Signals Officer's mind, forty thousand
miles distant, aboard the patrol vessel. There was a brief flurry of
struggle; then I dictated my instructions. The Signals Officer punched
keys, spoke into his microphone:
"As you were, Z four-oh-two. Continue on present course. At Oh-nineteen
seconds, pick up planetary for re-entry and let-down."
I blanked out the man's recollection of what had happened, caught his
belated puzzlement as I broke contact. But I was clear of the DEW line
now, rapidly approaching atmosphere.
"Z four-oh-two," the speaker crackled. "This is planetary control. I am
picking you up on channel forty-three, for re-entry and let-down."
There was a long pause. Then:
"Z four-oh-two, countermand DEW Line clearance! Repeat, clearance
countermanded! Emergency course change to standard hyperbolic code
ninety-eight. Do not attempt re-entry. Repeat: do not attempt re-entry!"
It hadn't taken Kayle long to see that I'd gotten past the outer line
of defense. A few more minutes' grace would have helped. I'd play it
dumb, and hope for a little luck.
"Planetary, Z four-oh-two here. Say, I'm afraid I missed part of that,
fellows. I'm a little banged up--I guess I switched frequencies on you.
What was that after 'pick up channel forty-three'...?"
"Four-oh-two, sheer off there! You're not cleared for re-entry!"
"Hey, you birds are mixed up," I protested. "I'm cleared all the way. I
checked in with DEW--"
It was time to disappear. I blanked off all transmission, hit the
controls, following my evasive pattern. And again I reached out--
A radar man at a site in the Pacific, fifteen thousand miles away, rose
from his chair, crossed the darkened room and threw a switch. The radar
screens blanked off....
For an hour I rode the long orbit down, fending off attack after
attack. Then I was clear, skimming the surface of the ocean a few miles
southeast of Key West. The boat hit hard. I felt the floor rise up,
over, buffeting me against the restraining harness.
I hauled at the release lever, felt a long moment of giddy
disorientation as the escape capsule separated from the sinking
lifeboat deep under the surface. Then my escape capsule was bobbing on
the water.
I would have to risk calling Kayle now--but by voluntarily giving my
position away, I should convince him I was still on our side--and I was
badly in need of a pick-up. I flipped the sending key.
"This is Z four-oh-two," I said. "I have an urgent report for Colonel
Kayle of Aerospace Intelligence."
Kayle's face appeared. "Don't fight it, Granthan," he croaked. "You
penetrated the planetary defenses--God knows how. I--"
"Later," I snapped. "How about calling off your dogs now? And send
somebody out here to pick me up, before I add sea-sickness to my other
complaints."
"We have you pinpointed," Kayle cut in. "It's no use fighting it,
Granthan."
* * * * *
I felt cold sweat pop out on my forehead. "You've got to listen,
Kayle," I shouted. "I suppose you've got missiles on the way already.
Call them back! I have information that can win the war--"
"I'm sorry, Granthan," Kayle said. "It's too late--even if I could
take the chance you were right."
A different face appeared on the screen.
"Mr. Granthan, I am General Titus. On behalf of your country, and
in the name of the President--who has been apprised of this tragic
situation--it is my privilege to inform you that you will be awarded
the Congressional Medal of Honor--posthumously--for your heroic effort.
Although you failed, and have in fact been forced, against your will,
to carry out the schemes of the inhuman enemy, this in no way detracts
from your gallant attempt. Mr. Granthan, I salute you."
The general's arm went up in a rigid gesture.
"Stow that, you pompous idiot!" I barked. "I'm no spy!"
Kayle was back, blanking out the startled face of the general.
"Goodbye, Granthan. Try to understand...."
I flipped the switch, sat gripping the couch, my stomach rising with
each heave of the floating escape capsule. I had perhaps five minutes.
The missiles would be from Canaveral.