The Worlds Of Robert A Heinlein

then you use the fuel anywhere and anyhow you like, with something like

  ninety-two percent recovery of the energy of the bomb. But you could junk

  the mercury-steam sequence, if you wanted to.

  King's first wild hope of a way out of his dilemma was dashed; he subsided.

  "Go ahead. Tell me about it."

  "Well ? It's a matter of artificial radioactives. Just before I asked for

  that special research allotment, Erickson and I ? Dr. Lentz had a finger in

  it, too ? found two isotopes of a radioactive that seemed to be mutually

  antagonistic. That is, when we goosed 'em in the presence of each other

  they gave up their latent energy all at once ? blew all to hell. The

  important point is, we were using just a gnat's whisker of mass of each ?

  the reaction didn't require a big mass like the bomb to maintain it."

  "I don't see," objected King, "how that could ? "

  "Neither do we, quite ? but it works. We've kept it quiet until we were

  sure. We checked on what we had, and we found a dozen other fuels. Probably

  we'll be able to tailor-make fuels for any desired purpose. But here it

  is." Harper handed King a bound sheaf of typewritten notes which he had

  been carrying under the arm. "That's your copy. Look it over."

  King started to do so. Lentz joined him, after a look that was a silent

  request for permission, which Erickson had answered with his only verbal

  contribution, "Sure Doc."

  As King read, the troubled feeling of an acutely harassed executive left

  him. His dominant personality took charge, that of the scientist. He

  enjoyed the controlled and cerebral ecstasy of the impersonal seeker for

  the elusive truth. The emotions felt in the throbbing thalamus were

  permitted only to form a sensuous obbligato for the cold flame of cortical

  activity. For the time being, he was sane, more nearly completely sane than

  most men ever achieve at any time.

  For a long period there was only an occasional grunt, the clatter of turned

  pages, a nod of approval. At last he put it down.

  "It's the stuff," he said. "You've done it, boys. It's great; I'm proud of

  you."

  Erickson glowed a bright pink and swallowed. Harper's small, tense figure

  gave the ghost of a wriggle, reminiscent of a wire-haired terrier receiving

  approval. "That fine, chief. We'd rather hear you say that than get the

  Nobel Prize."

  "I think you'll probably get it. However ? " the proud light in his eyes

  died down ? "I'm not going to take any action in this matter."

  "Why not, chief?" Harper's tone was bewildered.

  "I'm being retired. My successor will take over in the near future; this is

  too big a matter to start just before a change in administration."

  "You being retire! Blazes!"

  "About the same reason I took you off the bomb ? at least, the Directors

  think so."

  "But that's nonsense! You were right to take me off the bomb; I was getting

  jumpy. But you're another matter ? we all depend on you."

  "Thanks, Cal ? but that's how it is; there's nothing to be done about it."

  He turned to Lentz. "I think this is the last ironical touch needed to make

  the whole thing pure farce," he observed bitterly. "This thing is big,

  bigger than we can guess at this stage ? and I have to give it a miss.

  "Well," Harper burst out, "I can think of something to do about it!" He

  strode over to King's desk and snatched up the manuscript. "Either you

  superintend the

  exploitation or the company will damn well get along without our

  discovery!" Erickson concurred belligerently.

  "Wait a minute." Lentz had the floor. "Dr. Harper, have you already

  achieved a practical rocket fuel?"

  "I said so. We've got it on hand now."

  "An escape-speed fuel?" They understood his verbal shorthand-a fuel that

  would lift a rocket free of the Earth's gravitational pull.

  "Sure. Why, you could take any of the Clipper rockets, refit them a trifle,

  and have breakfast on the Moon."

  "Very well. Bear with me ? " He obtained a sheet of paper from King and

  commenced to write. They watched in mystified impatience. He continued

  briskly for some minutes, hesitating only momentarily. Presently he stopped

  and spun the paper over to King. "Solve it!" he demanded.

  King studied the paper. Lentz had assigned symbols to a great number of

  factors, some social, some psychological, some physical, some economical.

  He had thrown them together into a structural relationship, using the

  symbols of calculus of statement. King understood the paramathematical

  operations indicated by the symbols, but he was not as used to them as he

  was to the symbols and operations of mathematical physics. He plowed

  through the equations, moving his lips slightly in unconscious

  subvocalization.

  He accepted a pencil from Lentz and completed the solution. It required

  several more lines, a few more equations, before the elements canceled out,

  or rearranged themselves, into a definite answer.

  He stared at this answer while puzzlement gave way to dawning comprehension

  and delight.

  He looked up. "Erickson! Harper!" he rapped out. "We will take your new

  fuel, refit a large rocket, install the bomb in it, and throw it into an

  orbit around the Earth, far out in space. There we will use it to make more

  fuel, safe fuel, for use on Earth, with the danger from the bomb itself

  limited to the operators actually on watch!"

  There was no applause. It was not that sort of an idea; their minds were

  still struggling with the complex implications.

  "But, chief," Harper finally managed, "how about your retirement? We're

  still not going to stand for it."

  "Don't worry," King assured him "It's all in there, implicit in those

  equations, you two, me, Lentz, the Board of Directors ? and just what we

  all have to do to accomplish it."

  "All except the matter of time," Lentz cautioned.

  "Eh?"

  "You'll note that elapsed time appears in your answer as an undetermined

  unknown."

  "Yes . . . yes, of course. That's the chance we have to take. Let's get

  busy!"

  Chairman Dixon called the Board of Directors to order. "This being a

  special meeting, we'll dispense with minutes and reports," he announced.

  "As set forth in the call we have agreed to give the retiring

  superintendent three hours of our time."

  "Mr. Chairman ? "

  "Yes, Mr. Thornton?"

  "I thought we had settled that matter."

  "We have, Mr. Thornton, but in view of Superintendent King's long and

  distinguished service, if he asks a hearing, we are honor bound to grant

  it. You have the floor, Dr. King."

  King got up and stated briefly, "Dr. Lentz will speak for me." He sat down.

  Lentz had to wait till coughing, throat clearing and scraping of chairs

  subsided. It was evident that the board resented the outsider.

  Lentz ran quickly over the main points in the argument which contended that

  the bomb presented an intolerable danger anywhere on the face of the Earth.

  He moved on at once to the alternative proposal that the bomb should be

  located in a rocketship, an artificial moonlet flying in a free orbi
t

  around the Earth at a convenient distance ? say, fifteen thousand miles ?

  while secondary power stations on Earth burned a safe fuel manufactured by

  the bomb.

  He announced the discovery of the Harper-Erickson technique and dwelt on

  what it meant to them commercially. Each point was presented as

  persuasively as possible, with the full power of his engaging personality.

  Then he paused and waited for them to blow off steam.

  They did. "Visionary ? " "Unproved ? " No essential change in the situation

  ? " The substance of it was that they were very happy to hear of the new

  fuel, but not particularly impressed by it. Perhaps in another twenty

  years, after it had been thoroughly tested and proved commercially, and

  provided enough uranium had been mined to build another bomb, they might

  consider setting up another power station outside the atmosphere. In the

  meantime there was no hurry.

  Lentz patiently and politely dealt with their objections. He emphasized the

  increasing incidence of occupational psychoneurosis among the engineers and

  grave danger to everyone near the bomb even under the orthodox theory. He

  reminded them of their insurance and indemnity-bond costs, and of the

  "squeeze" they paid State politicians.

  Then he changed his tone and let them have it directly and brutally.

  "Gentlemen," he said, "we believe that we are fighting for our lives ? our

  own lives, our families and every life on the globe. If you refuse this

  compromise, we will fight as fiercely and with as little regard for fair

  play as any cornered animal." With that he made his first move in attack.

  It was quite simple. He offered for their inspection the outline of a

  propaganda campaign on a national scale, such as any major advertising firm

  could carry out as matter of routine. It was complete to the last detail,

  television broadcasts, spot plugs, newspaper and magazine coverage and ?

  most important ? a supporting whispering campaign and a letters-to-Congress

  organization. Every businessman there knew from experience how such things

  worked.

  But its object was to stir up fear of the bomb and to direct that fear, not

  into panic, but into rage against the Board of Directors personally, and

  into a demand that the government take action to have the bomb removed to

  outer space.

  "This is blackmail! We'll stop you!"

  "I think not," Lentz replied gently. "You may be able to keep us out of

  some of the newspapers, but you can't stop the rest of it. You can't even

  keep us off the air ? ask the Federal Communications Commission." It was

  true Harrington had handled the political end and had performed his

  assignment well; the President was convinced.

  Tempers were snapping on all sides; Dixon had to pound for order. "Dr.

  Lentz," he said, his own temper under taut control, "you plan to make every

  one of us appear a black-hearted scoundrel with no other thought than

  personal profit, even at the expense of the lives of others. You know that

  is not true; this is a simple difference of opinion as to what is wise."

  "I did not say it was true," Lentz admitted blandly, "but you will admit

  that I can convince the public that you are deliberate villains. As to it

  being a difference of opinion ? you are none of you atomic physicists; you

  are not entitled to hold opinions in this matter.

  "As a matter of fact," he went on callously, "the only doubt in my mind is

  whether or not an enraged public will destroy your precious power plant

  before Congress has time to exercise eminent domain and take it away from

  you!"

  Before they had time to think up arguments in answer and ways of

  circumventing him, before their hot indignation had cooled and set as

  stubborn resistance, he offered his gambit. He produced another layout for

  a propaganda campaign ? an entirely different sort.

  This time the Board of Directors was to be built up, not torn down. All of

  the same techniques were to be used; behind-the-scenes feature articles

  with plenty of human interest would describe the functions of the company,

  describe it as a great public trust, administered by patriotic, unselfish

  statesmen of the business world. At the proper point in the campaign, the

  Harper-Erickson fuel would be announced not as a semiaccidental result of

  the initiative of two employees, but as the long-expected end product of

  years of systematic research conducted under a fixed policy growing

  naturally out of their humane determination to remove forever the menace of

  explosion from even the sparsely settled Arizona desert.

  No mention was to be made of the danger of complete, planet-embracing

  catastrophe.

  Lentz discussed it. He dwelt on the appreciation that would be due them

  from a grateful world. He invited them to make a noble sacrifice and, with

  subtle misdirection, tempted them to think of themselves as heroes. He

  deliberately played on one of the most deep-rooted of simian instincts, the

  desire for approval from one's kind, deserved or not.

  All the while he was playing for time, as he directed his attention from

  one hard case, one resistant mind, to another. He soothed and he tickled

  and he played on personal foibles. For the benefit of the timorous and the

  devoted family men, he again painted a picture of the suffering, death and

  destruction that might result from their well-meant reliance on the

  unproved and highly questionable predictions of Destry's mathematics. Then

  he described in glowing detail a picture of a world free from worry but

  granted almost unlimited power, safe power from an invention which was

  theirs for this one small concession.

  It worked. They did not reverse themselves all at once, but a committee was

  appointed to investigate the feasibility of the proposed spaceship power

  plant. By sheer brass Lentz suggested names for the committee and Dixon

  confirmed his nominations, not because he wished to, particularly, but

  because he was caught off guard and could not think of a reason to refuse

  without affronting those colleagues.

  The impending retirement of King was not mentioned by either side.

  Privately, Lentz felt sure that it never would be mentioned.

  It worked, but there was left much to do. For the first few days after the

  victory in committee, King felt much elated by the prospect of an early

  release from the soul-killing worry. He was buoyed up by pleasant demands

  of manifold new administrative duties. Harper and Erickson were detached to

  Goddard Field to collaborate with the rocket engineers there in design of

  firing chambers, nozzles, fuel stowage, fuel metering and the like. A

  schedule had to be worked out with the business office to permit as much

  power of the bomb as possible to ? be diverted to making atomic fuel, and a

  giant combustion chamber for atomic fuel had to be designed and ordered to

  replace the bomb itself during the interim between the time it was shut

  down on Earth and the later time when sufficient local, smaller plants

  could be built to carry the commercial load. He was busy.

  When the first activity had died down and they were settled in a
new

  routine, pending the shutting down of the bomb and its removal to outer

  space, King suffered an emotional reaction. There was, by then, nothing to

  do but wait, and tend the bomb, until the crew at Goddard Field smoothed

  out the bugs and produced a space-worthy rocketship.

  They ran into difficulties, overcame them, and came across more

  difficulties. They had never used such high reaction velocities; it took

  many trials to find a nozzle shape that would give reasonably high

  efficiency. When that was solved, and success seemed in sight, the jets

  burned out on a time trial ground test. They were stalemated for weeks over

  that hitch.

  Back at the power plant Superintendent King could do nothing but chew his

  nails and wait. He had not even the release of running over to Goddard

  Field to watch the progress of the research, for, urgently as he desired

  to, he felt an even stronger, an overpowering compulsion to watch over the

  bomb lest it ? heartbreakingly! ? blow up at the last minute.

  He took to hanging around the control room. He had to stop that; his unease

  communicated itself to his watch engineers; two of them cracked up in a

  single day ? one of them on watch.

  He must face the fact ? there had been a grave upswing in psychoneurosis

  among his engineers since the period of watchful waiting had commenced. At

  first, they had tried to keep the essential facts of the plan a close

  secret, but it had leaked out, perhaps through some member of the

  investigating committee. He admitted to himself now that it had been a

  mistake ever to try to keep it secret ? Lentz had advised against it, and

  the engineers not actually engaged in the change-over were bound to know

  that something was up.

  He took all of the engineers into confidence at last, under oath of

  secrecy. That had helped for a week or more, a week in which they were all

  given a spiritual lift by the knowledge, as he had been. Then it had worn

  off, the reaction had set in, and the psychological observers had started

  disqualifying engineers for duty almost daily. They were even reporting

  each other as mentally unstable with great frequency; he might even be

  faced with a shortage of psychiatrists if that kept up, he thought to

  himself with bitter amusement. His engineers were already standing four

  hours in every sixteen. If one more dropped out, he'd put himself on watch.

  That would be a relief, to tell himself the truth.

  Somehow, some of the civilians around about and the nontechnical employees

  were catching onto the secret. That mustn't go on ? if it spread any

  farther there might be a nation-wide panic. But how the hell could he stop

  it? He couldn't.

  He turned over in bed, rearranged his pillow, and tried once more to get to

  sleep. No soap. His head ached, his eyes were balls of pain, and his brain

  was a ceaseless grind of useless, repetitive activity, like a disk

  recording stuck in one groove.

  God! This was unbearable! He wondered if he were cracking up ? if he

  already had cracked up. This was worse, many times worse, than the old

  routine when he had simply acknowledged the danger and tried to forget it

  as much as much as possible. Not that the bomb was any different ? it was

  this five-minutes-to-armistice feeling, this waiting for the curtain to go

  up, this race against time with nothing to do to help.

  He sat up, switched on his bed lamp, and looked at the clock. Three thirty.

  Not so good. He got up, went into his bathroom, and dissolved a sleeping

  powder in a glass of whiskey and water, half and half. He gulped it down

  and went back to bed. Presently he dozed off.

  He was running, fleeing down a long corridor. At the end lay safety ? he