The Stutterer

a handful of berries and chewedthem thoughtfully. "She was always after him to talk slower, but I guessit didn't do any good. He still stutters."

  "Is there a p-power plant around here?" Hall asked. "You know, where theelectricity comes from."

  "You mean the place where they have the nu-nuclear fission"--the boystumbled on the unfamiliar word, but got it out--"and they don't let youin because you get poisoned or something?"

  "Yes, I think that's it."

  "There are two places. There's one over at Red Mountain and another overat Ballarat."

  "Where are they?"

  "Well--" The boy stopped to think. "Red Mountain's straight ahead, maybeten miles, and Ballarat's over there"--he pointed west across the orangegroves--"maybe fifteen miles."

  "Good," Hall said. "Good." And he felt glad inside of himself. Maybe itcould be done, he thought.

  * * * * *

  They walked along together. Hall sometimes listening to the chatteringof the boy beside him, sometimes listening to and answering the distantvoices of the seventeen. Abruptly, a few hundred yards before the housethat the boy had pointed out as his father's, a small sports car whippeddown the highway, coming on them almost without warning. The lad jumpedsideways, and Hall, to avoid touching him, stepped off the concreteroad. His leg sank into the earth up to the mid-calf. He pulled it outas quickly as he could.

  The boy was looking at the fast retreating rear of the sports car.

  "Gee," he said. "I sure didn't see them coming." Then he caught sight ofthe deep hole alongside the road, and he stared at it. "Gosh, you suremade a footprint there," he said wonderingly.

  "The ground was soft," Hall said. "C-come along."

  But instead of following, the boy walked over to the edge of the roadand stared into the hole. He tentatively stamped on the earth around it."This ground isn't soft," he said. "It's hard as a rock." He turned andlooked at Hall with big eyes.

  Hall came close to the boy and took hold of his jacket. "D-don't pay anyattention to it, son. I just stepped into a soft spot."

  The boy tried to pull away. "I know who you are," he said. "I heardabout you on the teledepth."

  Suddenly, in the way of children, panic engulfed him and he flung hisbasket away and threw himself back and forth, trying to tear free. "Letme go," he screamed. "Let me go. Let me go."

  "Just l-listen to me, son," Hall pleaded. "Just listen to me. I won'thurt you."

  But the boy was beyond reasoning. Terror stricken, he screamed at thetop of his voice, using all his little strength to escape.

  "If you p-promise to l-listen to me, I'll let you go," Hall said.

  "I promise," the boy sobbed, still struggling.

  But the moment Hall let go of his coat, he tore away and ran as fast ashe could over the adjacent field.

  "W-wait--don't run away," Hall shouted. "I won't hurt you. Stay whereyou are. I couldn't follow you anyway. I'd sink to my hips."

  The logic of the last sentence appealed to the frightened lad. Hehesitated and then stopped and turned around, a hundred feet or so fromthe highway.

  "L-listen," said Hall earnestly. "The teledepths are wr-wrong. Theyd-didn't tell you the t-truth about us. I d-don't want to hurt anyone.All I n-need is a few hours. D-don't tell anyone for j-just a few hoursand it'll be all right." He paused because he didn't know what to saynext.

  The boy, now that he seemed secure from danger had recovered his wits.He plucked a blade of grass from the ground and chewed on an end of it,looking for all the world like a grownup farmer thoughtfully consideringhis fields. "Well, I guess you could have hurt me plenty, but youdidn't," he said. "That's something."

  "Just a few hours," Hall said. "It won't take long. Y-you can tell yourfather tonight."

  The boy suddenly remembered his raspberries when he saw his basket andits spilled contents on the highway.

  "Why don't you go along a bit," he said. "I would like to pick up thoseberries I dropped."

  "Remember," Hall said, "just a few hours." He turned and startedwalking again toward Red Mountain. Inside his mind, the seventeen askedanxiously, "Do you think he'll give the alarm? Will he report yourpresence?"

  Back on the highway, the boy was gathering the berries back into hisbasket while he tried to make his mind up.

  * * * * *

  Jordan reached Earth atmosphere about two o'clock in the afternoon. Heimmediately reported in to the Terrestrial police force, and via theteledepth screen spoke with a bored lieutenant. The lieutenant, afterlistening to Jordan's account of his mission, assured him without anyparticular enthusiasm of the willingness of the Terrestrial forces tocooeperate, and of more value, gave him the location of all licensedsources of radiation in the western hemisphere.

  The galactic agent set eagerly to work, and in the next several hoursuncovered two unlisted radiation sources, both of which he promptlyinvestigated. In one case, north of Eugene, he found in the backyard ofa metal die company a small atomic pile. The owner was using it as anillegal generator of electricity, and when he saw Jordan snooping aboutwith his detection instruments, he immediately offered the agent asizable bribe. It was a grave mistake since Jordan filed charges againsthim, via teledepth, not only for evading taxes, but also for attemptedbribery.

  The second strike seemed more hopeful. He picked up strong radiation ina rather barren area of Montana; however when he landed, he found thatit was arising from the earth itself. From a short conversation with thelocal authorities, he learned that the phenomenon was well known: anatomic fission plant had been destroyed at that site during the ThirdWorld War.

  He was flying over the lovely blue water of Lake Bonneville, when histeledepth screen flickered. He flipped the switch on and thelieutenant's picture flooded in.

  "I have a call I think you ought to take," the Earth official said. "Itseems as though it might be in your line. It's from a sheriff in a smalltown in California. I'll have the operator plug him in."

  * * * * *

  Abruptly the picture switched to that of a stout red-faced man wearingthe brown uniform of a county peace officer.

  "You're the galactic man?" the sheriff asked.

  "Yes. My name is Tom Jordan," Jordan said.

  "Mine's Berkhammer." It must have been warm in California because thesheriff pulled out a large handkerchief and mopped his brow. When he wasdone with that he blew his nose loudly. "Hay fever," he announced.

  "Want to see my credentials?"

  "Oh sure, sure," the sheriff hastily replied. He scrutinized the cardand badge that Jordan displayed. After a moment, he said, "I don't knowwhy I'm looking at those. They might be fakes for all I know. Never sawthem before and I'll probably never see them again."

  "They're genuine."

  "The deuce with formality," the sheriff said heavily. "There's some kidaround here who thinks he saw that ... that machine you're supposed tobe looking for."

  "When was that?" Jordan asked.

  "About four hours ago. Here, I'll let you talk to him yourself." Hepulled his big bulk to one side, and a boy and his father walked intothe picture. The boy was red-eyed, as though he had been crying. Thefather was a tall, stoop-shouldered farmer, dressed like his son inplastic overalls.

  * * * * *

  The sheriff patted the boy on the back. "Come on, Jimmy. Tell the manwhat you saw."

  "I saw him," the boy said sullenly. "I walked up the highway with him."

  Jordan leaned forward toward the screen.

  "How did you know who he was?"

  "I knew because when he stepped on the ground, he sank into it up to hisknee. He tried to say the ground was soft, but it was hard. I know itwas hard."

  "Why did you wait so long to tell anybody?" Jordan asked softly.

  The boy looked at him with defiance and dislike in his eyes and kept hissmall mouth clamped shut.

  His father nudged him roughly in the ribs.

  "A
nswer the man," he commanded.

  Jimmy looked down at his shoes.

  "Because he asked me not to tell for a while," he said curtly.

  "Stubborn as nails," the father said not without pride in his voice."Got more loyalty to a lousy machine than to the whole human race."

  "Which way did he go, Jimmy?"

  "Toward Red Mountain. I think maybe to the power house. He asked mewhere it was."

  "What do you think he wants with that?" the sheriff asked of Jordan.

  Jordan shrugged and shook his head.

  "Maybe it's all in the kid's head," the sheriff suggested. "These wildteledepth programs they look at give them all kinds of ideas."

  "It isn't in my head," Jimmy said violently. "I saw him. He stepped onthe ground and stuck his foot into it. I talked to him. And I knowsomething else. He stutters."

  "What?" said the sheriff. "Now I know you're lying."

  The father started dragging the boy by the arm. "Come on home, Jimmy.You got one more licking coming."

  Jordan, however, was sure the boy was not lying. "Leave him alone," hesaid. "He's right. He did see him." He took a fast look at the timepieceon his panel board. "I'll be down in an hour and a half. Wait for me."

  He flicked the switch off, and kicked up the motors. The ship shotsouthward almost as rapidly as a projectile.

  He had topped the Sierras and had just turned into the great centralvalley of California when, with the impact of a blow, a frighteningthought occurred to him.

  He flicked the screen on again, and he caught the sheriff sitting behindhis desk industriously scratching himself in one armpit.

  "Listen," Jordan said, speaking very fast. "You've got to send out anational alarm. You must get every man you can down to the power plant.You've got to stop him from getting in."

  The sheriff stopped scratching himself and stared at Jordan.

  "What are you so het up about, young man?"

  "Do it, and do it now," Jordan almost shouted. "He'll tear the pileapart and let the hafnium go off. It'll blow half the state off theplanet."

  The sheriff was unperturbed. "Mr. Star boy," he said sarcastically, "anygrammar school kid knows that if someone came within a hundred yards ofone of those power-house piles, he'd burn like a match stick. Andbesides why would he want to blow himself to pieces?"

  "He's made out of permallium." Jordan was shouting now.

  The sheriff suddenly grew pale. "Get off my screen. I'm callingSacramento."

  * * * * *

  Jordan set the ship for maximum speed, well beyond the safety limit. Hekept peering ahead into the dusk, momentarily fearful that the wholecountryside would light up in one brilliant flash. In a few minutes hewas sweating and trembling with the tension.

  Over Walnut Grove, he recognized the series of dams, reservoirs andwater-lifts where the Sacramento was raised up out of its bed and turnedsouth. For greater speed, he came close to Earth, flying at emergencyheight, reserved ordinarily for police, firemen, doctors and ambulances.He set his course by sight following the silver road of the river,losing it for ten or fifteen miles at a time where it passed throughsubterranean tunnels, picking it up again at the surface, alwaysshooting south as fast as the atmosphere permitted.

  At seven thirty, when the sun had finally set, he sighted the lights ofRed Mountain, and he cut his speed and swung in to land. There was notrouble picking out the power plant; it was a big dome-shaped buildingsurrounded by a high wall. It was so brilliantly lit up, that it stoodout like a beacon, and there were several hundred men milling aboutbefore it.

  He settled down on the lawn inside the walls, and the sheriff camebustling up, a little more red in the face than usual.

  "I've been trying to figure for the last hour what the devil I would doto stop him if he decided to come here," Berkhammer said.

  "He's not here then?"

  The sheriff shook his head. "Not a sign of him. We've gone over theplace three times."

  Jordan settled back in relief, sitting down in the open doorway of hisship. "Good," he said wearily.

  "Good!" the sheriff exploded. "I don't know whether I'd rather have himshow up or not. If this whole business is nothing more than the crazyimagination of some kid who ought to get tanned and a star-cop with milkbehind his ears, I'm really in the soup. I've sent out an alarm and I'vegot the whole state jumping. There's a full mechanized battalion ofstate troops waiting in there." He pointed toward the power plant."They've got artillery and tanks all around the place."

  Jordan jumped down out of the ship. "Let's see what you've got set uphere. In the meantime, stop fretting. I'd rather see you fired thanvaporized along with fifty million other people."

  "I guess you're right there," Berkhammer conceded, "but I don't like tohave anyone make a fool out of me."

  * * * * *

  At Ballarat, an old man, Eddie Yudovich, was the watchman and generalcaretaker of the electrical generation plant. Actually, his job was acompletely unnecessary one, since the plant ran itself. In its verycenter, buried in a mine of graphite were the tubes of hafnium, fromwhose nuclear explosions flowed a river of electricity without the needof human thought or direction.

  He had worked for the company for a long time and when he becamecrippled with arthritis, the directors gave him the job so that he mighthave security in his latter years.

  Yudovich, however, was a proud old man, and he never once acknowledgedto himself or to anyone else that his work was useless. He guarded andchecked the plant as though it were the storehouse of the TerrestrialTreasury. Every hour punctually, he made his rounds through thebuilding.

  At approximately seven thirty he was making his usual circuit when hecame to the second level. What he discovered justified all the years ofpunctilious discharge of his duties. He was startled to see a mankneeling on the floor, just above where the main power lines ran. He hadtorn a hole in the composition floor, and as Yudovich watched, hereached in and pulled out the great cable. Immediately the intruderglowed in the semidarkness with an unearthly blue shine and sparklescrackled off of his face, hands and feet.

  Yudovich stood rooted to the floor. He knew very well that no man couldtouch that cable and live. But as he watched, the intruder handled itwith impunity, pulling a length of wire out of his pocket and makingsome sort of a connection.

  It was too much for the old man. Electricity was obviously being stolen.He roared out at the top of his voice, and stumped over to the wallwhere he threw the alarm switch. Immediately, a hundred arc lightsflashed on, lighting the level brighter than the noon sun, and atremendously loud siren started wailing its warning to the wholecountryside.

  The intruder jumped up as though he had been stabbed. He dropped thewires, and after a wild look around him, he ran at full speed toward thefar exit.

  "Hold on there," Yudovich shouted and tried to give chase, but hisswollen, crooked knees almost collapsed with the effort.

  His eyes fell on a large wrench lying on a worktable, and he snatched itup and threw it with all his strength. In his youth he had been a ballplayer with some local fame as a pitcher, and in his later life, he wasaddicted to playing horseshoes. His aim was, therefore, good, and thewrench sailed through the air striking the runner on the back of thehead. Sparks flew and there was a loud metallic clang, the wrenchrebounding high in the air. The man who was struck did not even turn hishead, but continued his panicky flight and was gone in a second.

  When he realized there was no hope of effecting a capture, Yudovichstumped over to see the amount of the damage. A hole had been torn inthe floor, but the cable itself was intact.

  Something strange caught his attention. Wherever the intruder had puthis foot down, there were many radiating cracks in the compositionfloor, just as though someone had struck a sheet of ice with a sledgehammer.

  "I'll be danged," he said to himself. "I'll be danged and doubledanged."

  He turned off the alarm and then went downstairs to t
he teledepth screento notify the sheriff's office.

  A few hundred yards from the powerhouse, Jon Hall stood in the darkness,listening to the voices of his fellows. There were eighteen of them, notseventeen, for a short while before the one in the ice cave had beencaptured, and they railed at him with a bitter hopeless anger.

  He looked toward the bright lights of the powerhouse, consideringwhether he should return. "It's too late," said one of them. "The alarmis already out." "Go into the town and mix with the people," anothersuggested. "If you stay within a half mile of the hafnium pile, thedetection man will not be able to pick up your radiation and maybe youwill have a second chance."

  They all assented in that, and Hall, weary of making his own decisionsturned toward the town. He walked through a tree-lined residentialstreet, the houses with neatly trimmed lawns, and each with a copterparked on the roof. In almost every house the teledepths were turned onand he caught snatches of bulletins about himself: "... Is known to bein the Mojave area." "... About six feet in height and very similar to ahuman being. When last seen, he