Brandon had to talk to himself. "Inside his brain he's got that energy
weapon that Earth can use to end the war. It's been frozen in there
three hundred years. If we can thaw it out--"
"Who ever heard of reviving a body after that long?"
"He's perfectly preserved. Perfectly frozen. Oh, God, this is Fate. I
know it. I feel it. Came to find Richard and I found something bigger!
Lazarus! Lazarus, come forth from the tomb!"
The machines thrummed louder, beating into his ears. Brandon listened,
watched for just one pulse, just one beat, one word, one moment of life.
"Air for the lungs," and Brandon attached oxygen cones over the fine
nose and relaxed lips. "Pressure on the ribs." Metal plates pressuring
the rib case slowly out and in. "Circulation." Brandon touched the
control at the foot of the table and the whole table tilted back and
forth in a whining teeter-tauter.
A report clipped through on the audio:
"Morgue Ship. Battle Unit 766 calling Morgue Ship. Off orbit of Pluto
234CC, point zero-two, off 32, one by seven, follow up. Battle just
terminated. Six Martian ships destroyed. One Earth ship blasted apart
and bodies thrown into space. Please recover. 79 men. Bodies in orbit
heading toward sun at 23456 an hour. Check."
Logan flipped his cigarette away. "That's us. We got work to do. Come
on. Let that stiff cool. He'll be here when we come back."
"No!" Brandon fairly shouted it, eyes wild. "He's more important than
all those men out there. We can help them later. He can help us now!"
The table came to a halt, bringing absolute silence.
Brandon bent forward to press his ear against the warmed rib-casing.
"Wait."
There it was. Unbelievably, there it was. A tiny pulse stirring like
a termite down under, softly and sluggishly moving through the body,
jabbing the heart and--NOW! Brandon cried out. He was shaking all over.
He was setting the machine in operation again, and talking and laughing
and going crazy with it.
"He's alive! He's alive! Lazarus has come from the tomb! Lazarus
reborn again! Notify Earth immediately!"
* * * * *
At the end of an hour, the pulse was timing normal, the temperature was
lowering down from a fever, and Brandon moved about the preparations'
room watching every quiver of the body's internal organs through the
tubular-fluoroscope.
He exulted. This was having Richard alive again. It was compensation.
You roared into space looking somewhere for your lost self-respect,
your pride, looking for your son who is shooting on some soundless
orbit into nothing, and now the biggest child of Fate is deposited in
your arms to warm and bring to life. It was impossible. It was good.
Brandon almost laughed. He almost forgot he had ever known fear of
death. This was conquering it. This was like bringing Richard back to
life, but even more. It meant things to earth and humanity; things
about weapons and power and peace.
Logan interrupted Brandon's exultant thinking by blowing smoke in
his face. "You know something, Brandy? This is damn good! You done
something, Mister. Yeah."
"I thought I told you to notify Earth."
"Ah, I been watching you. Like a mama hen and her chick. I been
thinking, too. Yeah." Logan shook ashes off his smoke. "Ever since you
pulled in this prize fish, I been turning it over in my mind."
"Go up to the radio room and call Earth. We've got to rush the
Scientist to Moon Base immediately. We can talk later."
There was that hard green shine to Logan's narrow eyes again. He poked
a finger at Brandon. "Here's the way I get it. Do we get rewarded for
finding this guy? Hell, no. It's our routine work. We're _supposed_ to
pick up bodies. Here we got a guy who's the key to the whole damn war."