"Sergeant!" Banning called. "Sergeant, take five men...."
* * * * *
The room in which they put him was comfortable and secure. Very secure.
The bed was firmly welded to the wall, the table bolted to the floor.
There was nothing movable or detachable in the room.
The three microphones picked up little but the shuffle of feet; cameras
dutifully imprinted on film the image of a man pacing restlessly back
and forth, examining the fixtures of the room without apparent anxiety
or curiosity.
"No trouble at all," Banning answered Colin's question. "He didn't even
see the patrol. Spray shot of Somnol in the arm and that was it."
"He doesn't seem particularly upset," Colin mused, watching the screen
on which the lean figure of Colonel Harkins paced.
"Nervous," Banning said.
"Not as badly as the situation would warrant. I don't think it's
getting through to him. He's apathetic."
"How did he react to seeing his wife?" Banning asked.
"Bewildered him. Gave him a hell of a headache."
"That all?"
"That's all."
"What now?"
Colin sighed. "Get through to him some way." He tamped tobacco in his
pipe, his eyes still on the spyscreen. Harkins was now sitting on the
bed, his hands immobile on his knees, staring straight ahead.
"How do you intend to do that?"
Colin reached for a pad of paper and began scribbling, talking as he
wrote. "How are you feeding him?"
"Double door compartment. Put the food in, close the outside door, open
the inside."
"Put this on his tray next time, will you?" Colin handed the general a
slip of paper. On it was written a single sentence: _Richard Harkins, I
want to talk to you._
"All right," Banning said, reading it. "He's due for lunch in about an
hour."
* * * * *
On the screen, Colin could see the light come on over the food
compartment, and the microphones picked up the sound of a bell.
Harkins, who had not moved from the bed since his initial examination
of the cubicle, looked up. The inner door of the compartment opened,
revealing a tray with several steaming dishes, a pitcher of milk and a
pot of coffee on a self-warm pad.
Harkins stood up. He looked at the food, walked over to the tiny open
door and picked up the tray. Calmly he carried it over to the table,
sat down, unfolded the napkin and put it in his lap.
"My God," Banning whispered, "you'd think he'd eaten this way all his
life."
"Apathetic," Colin said shortly. "He refuses to admit anything unusual."
"How the hell could he rationalize losing consciousness and waking up
in a windowless room?"
Colin shrugged. "Brain's a funny thing," was his only comment. His eyes
were fixed intently on the screen. Suddenly Harkins noticed the slip of
paper tucked under the corner of one of the dishes.
Colin leaned forward, took his pipe out of his mouth.
Harkins withdrew the paper and looked at it. Even on the screen, Colin
could see the writing, almost make out the words.
Harkins stared briefly at the paper, turned it over and looked at the
other side in puzzlement. He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned.
Finally he gave a little shrug, put the message back on the tray and
resumed eating.
Colin sat heavily back in his chair. He sighed.
"He didn't even see it," Banning said disgustedly.
"He saw the paper, not the message."
"Why?"
"Personal communication. It implies the existence of another
communicating--entity. He won't admit it." Colin re-lit his pipe.
"Ah, hell!"
"I guess we'll have to take the direct approach," Colin said
thoughtfully.
* * * * *
He lay relaxed on the bed in the little room, his eyes closed, his
face calm and quiet. Pulse normal, temperature normal. Above and in
the walls recorders and cameras purred almost silently with the bland
indifference of omniscience.
_Harkins._
_Yes._
_Can you hear me?_
... _no_ ... The strain of the question twisted the man's face into a
grimace of pain.
Pause. Then:
_You are Richard Harkins._
_Yes._
_Colonel...._
_Yes._
_Can you hear me?_
_I.... No._ Anxious contortion. _All right. It's all right._
The man's face returned to relaxation.
_How old are you?_
_Thirty-two._
_Have you always been thirty-two?_
...
_Have you always been thirty-two?_
... _no_ ... Hesitantly.
_You were once younger._
_Yes._
_You were once a child and grew to be a young man and grew to be
thirty-two._
... _yes_ ...
_Why do you hesitate?_
_I don't understand all the words you say._
_What words don't you understand?_
_Well--Man._ The expression of pain and anxiety flitted across his
relaxed features.
_I will explain the words later. Don't worry about them now._
_All right._
_Richard Harkins, we are going to move back to a time when you were
nineteen. You are nineteen years old. You are nineteen._
_How old are you?_
_Nineteen._
_What are you doing?_
_I--I'm a cadet, I--_
_What kind of cadet?_
... _SpaServ_ ...
_All right, now we'll move ahead two years. You are twenty-one years
old. Twenty-one. How old are you?_
* * * * *
Gradually Colin brought Harkins forward in time, carefully, feeling
his way gingerly along the dark corridors of his mind. He brought him
through cadets, graduation, his marriage to Martha (touchy: gently,
gently)--his service in the planetary fleet.
Then: a mysterious phrase; rumors--Phoenix Project.
--_nobody seems to know. Something secret, but no telling.
Everything's secret this year. Testing officers right and left and up
and down. But nobody knows what for...._
... _card waiting for me at breakfast_ ...
Months of testing. Still nobody knows, but the rumors are running fast
and heavy. Whole base preoccupied with the misty Phoenix Project.
Secret construction hangar, security precautions to the point of
absurdity....
... _I'm it!_ ...
... _it's faster-than-light drive, that's what Phoenix Project is.
Faster-than-light. The big dream, the dream of the stars_ ...
Training. Slower through the two years of intensive training. This
may be a critical phase. Two years, endless repetitive drill, drill
practice drill drill drill.... Colin's forehead feels cool as he sits
beside the bed. Perspiration. A glance at his watch shows him two hours
since they began.
_How did you take to this intensive training?_
_All right. It was all right. Dull, you know, but it was all right
generally. After the first year it was pretty automatic. Conditioned
response, I didn't have to think. If and when such and such happens,
press this button, throw that switch. Automatic._
Automatic, Colin thought. That's why he came back then. Without
volition, responding to given signals according to training.
... _walking toward the ship. She's big and bulky, but we're friends by
now. Now I'm climbing the ladder up to the lock_ ...
... _listening to the count down ... two ... one ... fire!_ ...
Harkins grunted as the re-lived acceleration slammed him back in the
control chair with a relentless and unabating pressure. He was silent
for thirty seconds.
... _blacked out, not long. Report in to Gila Base, launching
successful. They acknowledge, give me course. I'm moving "up", at right
angles to the plane of the ecliptic. Fastest way to get away from large
mass bodies_ ...
Time then on atomic rockets, almost a full day. Colin brushed over this
phase, which was routine. As far as he could tell, Harkins' duties had
been designed principally to keep him from getting bored before it was
time to cut in the Skipdrive, and this corresponded with what General
Banning had told him.
As he approached the time of the Skip, he moved more slowly, taking in
detail.
... _three minute bell. The bell is a pretty sound. I am checking the
controls again. Everything is fine. I am sitting down in the control
chair with my hands relaxed over the ends of the arms. When my fingers
brush against the buttons, they tingle, or seem to. We're all ready.
There's the two minute bell_ ...
Pause.
_One minute bell_ ...
Suddenly Harkins sat stiffly upright on the bed. His eyes snapped open,
staring with fear and disbelief at something Colin could not see.
_Oh, my God_, he whispered.
_What is it?_
But there was no direct answer. Harkins repeated:
_Oh, my God, my God, my God_ ...
_What do you see? What is there?_
_Oh Jesus the stars the stars the stars God in heaven I can't Jesus
make them go make them go make them go_ ...
His voice had risen almost to a scream, his eyes open wide and staring,
his body rigid.
With a whimper, he clenched his eyes shut and fell back on the bed. He
drew his knees slowly and jerkily up to his chest, as if resisting the
movement, clasped his arms around his legs tightly.
He began to rock back and forth, gently, gently, as if immersed in
water, his breath making an involuntary whining sound as it passed his
constricted throat.
_Move forward in time. Move ahead. You are coming out of the Skip. You
are coming out of the Skip. You are returning to normal space._
Colin's voice was steady and calm over the high-pitched whines coming
from the throat of the man on the bed. Suddenly his face relaxed. The
eyes remained closed, but closed as if in sleep, rather than anguish.
His arms and shoulder released their clenched grip around his knees.
Evenly, smoothly, his legs straightened on the bed, his feet digging
into the covers and pushing them into a roll at the bottom. He finally
lay as he had begun, stretched straight with his hands beside his
thighs and his face relaxed. When he spoke, it was in a normal, almost
conversational tone.
... _belled out. I like the sound of that bell, it is relaxing. It's
a good signal and I'm glad it happens that way. I stand up from the
control chair and stretch. I have the strong notion something very
pleasant has happened._
_How do you feel? Do you feel strange?_
_No, I feel fine. Everything is fine. I check the instruments, and
they show that a Skip has been completed. That's good. I don't--I
don't--somehow I can't remember why I wanted to_ ...
His voice broke off, puzzled. Colin waited, and in a minute Harkins
began to speak again.
... _hear the sound of the Skipdrive. It comforts me. Funny, I don't
remember ever hearing it before_ ...
_Go back before. Go back. You hear the one minute bell. You can hear
the one minute bell and you are ready to make your Skip. You are
getting ready to make your Skip._
Harkins snapped upright again and repeated his actions. He shouted and
screamed, his body was forced into the foetal position jerkily....
_OH GOD THE STARS THE STARS THE STARS_
Whimpering.
_Go forward. You are returning to normal space...._
_I feel fine, everything is fine. I check the instruments_ ...
_Go back...._
There was no lessening.
Colin's shirt was slick on his body with sweat, his face looked old,
older, his breath came in almost imperceptible quaverings, but his
voice remained calm and assured, in violent and distinct contrast to
the strain that showed plainly as age in his face--
_Move ahead...._
_Move back...._
Twenty-three minutes later, Colin closed his eyes and said:
_In ten minutes from this time you will waken feeling refreshed and
relaxed, as after a good sleep. You will be alert and fresh when you
waken. You will feel as if you have just had a pleasant nap. You will
remember nothing of what has happened while you were asleep, but you
will feel fresh and relaxed when you waken ten minutes from this time._
He finished the waking-formula mechanically and left the little room.
He walked slowly and deliberately to his quarters on the base, as
though holding himself rigidly in control. He did not answer Banning's
excited questions except to say, "I can't talk about it now."
Reaching his room he fell full length on the bed and was asleep nearly
before the swaying of the bed had quieted.
5.
Several hours later he was again in General Banning's office.
"Look," Banning said, "I'm sorry to press this, and I know you took a
hell of a beating in there. But we've got to know."