The specialist arrived with his test machine rolling behind him like an
obedient, lumbering mastiff. When he reached the center of the room he
turned a dial on his signet ring and the machine stopped.
"This young warrant officer has given me an interesting account of his
recent experiences which, he would have us believe, included being
drugged into sleep and semi-sleep," said Chisholm. "I want you to test
blood samples for silicon traces, in fact the whole gamut of tests."
Dr. Jonas' pointed chin sank toward his chest, then rose. "Yes, General
Chisholm." He pulled up Cramer's left sleeve and applied a blood-sucker
tube which clicked off drops until it reached fifty and stopped. The
doctor set the fractionating apparatus on automatic and approached his
superior's chair to say, "I hardly think a person could be sedated with
a silicon compound, sir."
Chisholm gestured for Cramer to remain silent. "All right, while
we're waiting for your machine to complete its run, here's a purely
hypothetical problem. Imagine a silicon-based _bacteria_--"
"_What?_" Dr. Jonas exclaimed.
"I said a silicon-based bacteria. It raises human metabolism when
absorbed into the blood stream in the form of a tiny frost flake, a
flake whose very _atomic_ structure breaks down the elements scale
without the explosive force of nuclear fission or any other kind of
serious disruption."
"I'd say the whole thing's impossible, sir!"
"But let's just suppose it is not."
"Then I'd have to proceed on the assumption that the life cycle of
the hypothetical form permits it to reach a high threshold of energy
storage, part of which energy is smoothly released while the rest
achieves a new balance as the silicon transmutes into elements of
lesser weight."
"Sounds like a reasonable explanation for something unreasonable,
doctor," he stiffly observed. "Your tests should be ready now."
* * * * *
Dr. Jonas looked satisfied as he pulled the tape from the machine. "No
silicon." He stopped, frowning. "But there is indication of massive
barbiturate dosages. This man _has_ been drugged! There shouldn't be
any lasting damage--he's a healthy specimen all right--but whoever did
this wasn't worrying about his welfare, General."
"Thank you, Dr. Jonas, you may go now." He casually leaned back in his
chair. "This is Top Secret for the present. I will be consulting you
later on this matter."
"Yes, sir."
But as soon as Jonas and his equipment were gone the General sprang
into frantic action. "You're under arrest, Mister."
"Sir!"
"_Protective_ arrest--although it won't be announced that way. No time
for explanations right now. Give me the precise reading and time for
that asteroid."
When he had the information he activated a keyboard at one side of his
desk which fed the orrery computer several miles away. A few seconds
after he punched in the data, the reply came back with the exact
present location of the asteroid. He immediately threw a switch which
lowered the lights and simultaneously splashed a map of the solar
system on all of one blank wall. The map carried the caption _Pioneer
Logistic_ and showed a dozen labelled points scattered throughout the
system's inner and median reaches. A few were moving very slowly while
others appeared to be at rest.
After a minute's careful scrutiny the General leaped to his feet,
muttering, "Good, good, Hazelton can get there in four hours." Starting
his sender, he brought on Message Center and commanded: "Get me
Admiral Hazelton on the _Star-Seeker_. Top Priority Instant Action
Field Officer Line."
Cramer, accustomed to slower transmission channels, was startled by the
speed with which Hazelton's voice came into the room. "Standing by,
General."
"Admiral, have your daily code book handy?"
"Right here."
"Put her on today's complete garble in precisely ten seconds." He
set his own coder and waited. "Okay. Hazelton, are you receiving me
clearly?"
"Perfectly, Chisholm."
"All right, now nobody else can follow what I'm going to tell you.
Immediately shift course for 325.83.21 in asteroid quadrant, subsection
38." A protesting squawk came hurtling across space. "First give your
people my orders, then I'm going to tell you why."
Cramer gaped as he heard his superior start to repeat his story. The
General _must_ have believed it!
Ten minutes later Hazelton broke in with a final "Oh, my God!" For a
while only his heavy breathing could be heard, then he said, "Chisholm,
if there's anything to this it's the worst social catastrophe of the
century!"
"I know it. Contact me as soon as you have a sample analyzed. You
should be able to manage in six hours or so--this line'll be open at
all times from now on. Off."
Chisholm came back to the desk and looked steadily at Cramer. "You sure
have me going far out on a prestige limb."
"I never expected anybody to believe me, sir," he replied, all
gratitude.
"I still don't but we can't take any chances. I know something has
to be going on. You see, Captain Hartley resigned from the service
yesterday."
"But he's still under your command for three months, isn't he?"
"No, he's a free agent. He entered a Categorical Resignation. That
means he's giving up all benefits accruing to a man of 25 years
standing but his resignation is immediately effective."
"You could still arrange for his arrest through the civil channels."
"I doubt whether any continental president would care for that idea, I
know I don't. Your former Captain's a very shrewd man, he knew we'd see
how helpless we are--I only hope that you're lying through your teeth!"
"If I don't return soon, General Chisholm, he'll suspect something."
"Again, it doesn't matter very much." He sat down and rubbed his chin.
"If we let you go back, do you think he'd let you see how they're
organizing their operation? True, it would be more convenient for him
if, for a few more days, we wouldn't be investigating him--that's why
he took the chance of letting you report back here and avoided the
Probationary hunt. To his way of thinking, chances are that you'll want
further dosages and keep quiet. But why should we expose you further to
that stuff when the possible sacrifice involved won't give us any more
information?"
"Then you're just going to surrender the point, let him realize you
know and won't do anything about it?"
"Not exactly. The best we can do is keep him uncertain about you.
Officially, you've been arrested for insubordinate behavior by a
martinet General who's decided to make a horrible example of you.
Someone looking like you is going to be seen entering a punishment
craft heading for a monotony run to check the automatic satellites
around Uranus. That's the stupid best we can do--we're over a barrel."
His sharp eyes suddenly dug into Cramer's. "You'll be in isolation
quarters for the next few hours. I only hope that you'll deserve to
stay there, that your story is all malicious nonsense!"
* * * * *
Cramer was escorted to a small cell where there were no audio-visuals,
only old-fashioned printed books. He picked up a few of them, stared at
the title pages without knowing what he was reading, then began to pace
his cell.
What if they didn't find a germ sample? After all, nobody had ever
spotted the stuff before.
No, they knew what to look for now and that made a difference.
But maybe it didn't in this case.
And what made them feel so helpless? What gave Hartley that much of an
advantage over a General of the Space Deeps?
Nothing added up and it seemed he had been shuffling the crazy pieces
for a week when they came to take him back to Chisholm's office. The
clock, though, told him only eight hours had passed.
Another man was in Chisholm's office now and he recognized him as soon
as he came in--Shelby Johnson, President of North America. The newcomer
nodded grimly as they were introduced to each other.
"President Johnson is here incognito, came by a private entrance,"
Chisholm explained. "You're not to mention this anywhere."
"A real mess!" Johnson exclaimed. "But at least there was someone
decent enough to give us forewarning. This stuff's supposed to be so
effective, no hangover, no known damage to the system--why didn't you
go along with Hartley's reasoning?"
"There has to be some bad long-range effect, nothing comes that cheap."
"I only hope you're right." Johnson's grey eyes seemed to be focussed
far off. "Otherwise the social damage will be terrible."
"_Everything_ you told me has been confirmed," said Chisholm. "Scouts
had no trouble finding a batch and the tests confirm that it's
seemingly harmless, breaks down completely."
"Then why don't you arrest Hartley?"
"That would just spread knowledge of this even faster. He's probably
seen to it that will happen and can hold it over our heads."
"Counter the thing with a propaganda offensive, highlighting the evils."
"What evils? Young man," the President broke in, "Who's going to be
scared off from something that sounds so harmless? Two things are
working against us--the supply's easily replenishable _and_ testing
equipment's much too common for us to put over any white lies."
"Still hard for you to understand, isn't it?" Chisholm sighed.
"Cramer, a terribly big percentage of the population has become passive
and bored, just looking for some easy diversion. We have all we can do
just to keep this social cancer from spreading without germ-joy. _With_
it, matters can get out of hand. And I don't care how automated and
wealthy a society is it can't get by if we develop _that_ big a burden
of non-thinking freeloaders."
"General Chisholm isn't wholeheartedly with the plan I've adopted but--"
"But I haven't a thing better to suggest, Mr. President," the General
conceded.
"Who does? Well, the plan for the next few weeks is this, to keep very
close surveillance of Hartley's activities without openly conceding we
know what he's up to. We have to hope that some defect will show up in
a user even though the first report says no one sees how it can happen."