The coup d'etat may appear in a thousand different guises. The
prudent ruler suspects even his own shadow.
_de Etienne_
The Sky Room of the Opal Cross was so altered it was hard to believe
it had been a festivities center only three days ago. The World Map
and Space Map still held their dominating positions, but the one was
dotted with colored pictorial symbols indicating the location of
spaceports and space-yards, defense installations, armament fabrication
and conversion centers, regular and emergency power stations, field
headquarters, and like military information, while the Space Map, in
which a system of perspective realistically conveyed three-dimensional
depth, was similarly dotted in the Marsward sector to indicate the real
or hypothetic location of spacecraft. This latter map emphasized with
chilling clarity the fact that Earth had nothing at all in the way of
an interplanetary battle fleet, only a scattering of unarmed or lightly
armed exploratory craft that now, by stretching a point, could be
counted as scouts. While fanning out from Mars in a great hemisphere,
hypothetic but none the less impressive, loomed a vast armada.
The rest of the Sky Room was filled with terraced banks of televisor
panels, transmission boards, plotting tables, and various calculating
machines, all visible from the central control table around which they
crowded. One whole sector was devoted to other military installations
and specialized headquarters in the Opal Cross. Other sectors linked
the control table with field headquarters, observation centers,
spacecraft, and so on.
But now all the boards and tables, save the central one, were
unoccupied. The calculating machines were untended and inoperative. And
the massed rows of televisor panels were all blank gray--as pointless
as a museum with empty cases.
A similar effect of bewildered deflation was apparent in most of the
faces of the World Executive Committee around the control table. The
exceptions included Chairman Shielding, who looked very angry, though
it was a grave anger and well under control; Conjerly and Tempelmar,
completely and utterly impassive; Clawly, also impassive, but with the
suggestion that it would only take a hairtrigger touch to release swift
speech or action; and Firemoor, who, sitting beside Clawly, was plainly
ill at ease--pale, nervous, and sweating.
Shielding, on his feet, was explaining why the Sky Room had been
cleared of its myriad operators and clerks. His voice was as cuttingly
realistic as a spray of ice water.
"... and then," he continued, "when astronomic photographs
incontrovertibly proved that there were no alien craft of any sort
near Mars--certainly none of the size reported and nothing remotely
resembling a fleet, not even any faintly suspicious asteroids or
cometary bodies--I hesitated no longer. On my own responsibility I sent
out orders countermanding any and all defense preparations. That was
half an hour ago."
* * * * *
One of the gray panels high in the Opal Cross sector came to life. As
if through a window, a young man with a square face and crisply cropped
blond hair peered out. The emptiness of the Sky Room seemed to startle
him. He looked around for a moment, then switched to high amplification
and called down to Shielding,
"Physical Research Headquarters reporting. A slight variation in
spatio-temporal constants has been noted in this immediate locality.
The variation is of a highly technical nature, but the influence of
unknown spy-beams or range-finding emanations is a possible, though
unlikely, explanation."
Shielding called sharply, "Didn't you receive the order countermanding
all activities?"
"Yes, but I thought--"
"Sorry," called Shielding, "but the order applies to Research
Headquarters as much as any others."
"I see," said the young man and, with a vague nod, blanked out.
There was no particular reaction to this dialogue, except that the
studied composure of Conjerly and Tempelmar became, if anything, more
marked--almost complacent.
Shielding turned back. "We now come to the question of who engineered
this criminally irresponsible hoax, which," he added somberly, "has
already cost the lives of more than a hundred individuals, victims
of defense-preparation accidents." Firemoor winced and went a shade
paler. "Unquestionably a number of persons must have been in on it,
mainly members of the Extraterrestrial Service. It couldn't have been
done otherwise. But we are more interested in the identity of the main
instigators. I am sorry to say that there can be no question as to
the identity of at least two of these. The confession of three of the
accomplices make it--"
"Co-ordination Center 3 reporting." Another of the Opal Cross panels
had flashed on and its perplexed occupant, like the other, was using
high amplification to call his message down to Shielding. "Local Power
Station 4 has just cut me off, in the midst of a message describing
an inexplicable drain on their power supply. Also, the presence of an
unknown vehicle has been reported from the main rotunda."
"We are not receiving reports," Shielding shouted back. "Please consult
your immediate superior for instructions."
"Right," the other replied sharply, immediately switching off.
"There you see, gentlemen," Shielding commented bitterly, "just how
difficult it is to halt a hoax of this sort. In spite of all our
efforts, there undoubtedly will be more tragic accidents before minds
get back to normal." He paused, turned. "Clawly and Firemoor, what
do you have to say for yourselves in justification of your actions,
beyond a confession of wanton mischievousness, or--I must mention this
possibility too--an attempt to create confusion for the furtherance
of some treasonable plot? Remember it is not a matter of accomplices'
confessions alone, who might conceivably perpetrate a hoax and then
attempt to shift the blame onto blindly gullible and negligent
superiors. There is also the testimony of two members of our own
committee, who can for the moment remain anonymous--"
"I see no reason for that," drawled Tempelmar.
"Thank you." Shielding nodded to him. "Very well, then. The testimony
of Conjerly and Tempelmar." And he turned again toward the accused.
* * * * *
Firemoor looked down at the table and twisted miserably. Clawly
returned Shielding's gaze squarely. But before either of them could
reply--
"Co-ordination Center 4! Reporting the presence of a group of armed
individuals in black garments of an unfamiliar pattern proceeding--"
"Please do not bother us!" Shielding shouted irritably. "Consult your
superior! Tell him to refer all communications to Co-ordination Center
1!"
This time the offending panel blanked out without reply.
Shielding turned to a master control board behind him and rapidly
flipped off all the beams, insuring against future interruption.
Clawly stood up. His face had the frozenness of pent tension, an
odd mixture of grim seriousness and mocking exasperation at men's
blindness, suggestive of a gargoyle.
"It was a hoax," he said coolly, "and I alone planned it. But it was
a hoax that was absolutely necessary to prepare the world for that
other invasion, against which I tried to warn you three days ago. The
invasion whose vanguard is already in our midst. Of course Conjerly and
Tempelmar testified against me--for they are part of the vanguard!"
"You're psychotic," said Shielding flatly, lowering his head a
little, like a bull. "Paranoid. The only wonder is how it escaped the
psychiatrists. Watch him, some of you"--he indicated those nearest
Clawly--"while I call the attendants."
"Stay where you are, all of you! And you, Shielding, don't flip that
beam!" Clawly had danced back a step, and a metal tube gleamed in his
hand. "Since you believe I planned the Martian hoax--and I did--perhaps
you'll believe that I won't stop at a few more deaths, not accidental
this time, in order to make you see the truth. Idiots! Can't you see
what's happening under your very noses? Don't you see what those
reports may have meant? Call Co-ordination Center 1, Shielding. Go on,
I mean it, call them!"
But at that instant Firemoor spun round in his chair and dove at
Clawly, pinioning his arms, hurling them both down, wrenching the metal
tube from his hand, sending it spinning to one side. A moment later he
had dragged Clawly to his feet, still holding him pinioned.
"I'm sorry," he gasped miserably. "But I had to do it for your own
sake. We were wrong--wrong to the point of being crazy. And now we've
got to admit it. Looking back, I can't see how I ever--"
But Clawly did not even look at him. He stared grimly at Shielding.
"Thank you, Firemoor," said Shielding, a certain relief apparent in
his voice. "You still have a great deal to answer for. That can't be
minimized--but this last action of yours will certainly count in your
favor."
This information did not seem to make Firemoor particularly happy. The
pinioned Clawly continued to ignore him and to stare at Shielding.
"Call Communications Center 1," he said, deliberately.
Shielding dismissed the interruption with a glance. He sat down.
"The attendants will remove him shortly. Well, gentlemen," he said,
"it's time we considered how best to repair the general dislocations
caused by this panic. Also there's the matter of our position with
regard to the trial of the accomplices." There was a general pulling-in
of chairs.
"Call Communications Center 1," Clawly repeated.
Shielding did not even look up.