Security

end.

  * * * * *

  The substance and its properties were physically and chemically stableover a temperature range of hundreds of degrees. The breakdown voltagewas up in the millions. The insulation resistance was better than thebest known to Earth's science.

  The dielectric constant could be varied at will by a simple electricfield normal to the applied voltage gradient--a field which could begenerated by a couple of dry cells if need be--and ranged from a hundredthousand to about three billion. For all practical purposes, here wasthe ultimate dielectric.

  "We did it!" Friedrichs slapped Lancaster's back till it felt that theribs must crack. "We have it!"

  "Whooppee!" yelled Karen.

  Suddenly they had joined hands and were dancing idiotically around theinduction furnace. Lancaster clasped Rakkan's talons without caring thatit was a Martian. They sang then, sang till heads appeared at the doorand the glassware shivered.

  _Here we go 'round the mulberry bush, The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush--_

  It called for a celebration. The end of a Project meant no more thanfiling a last report and waiting for the next assignment, but they ranthings differently out here. Somebody broke out a case of Venusianaguacaliente. Somebody else led the way to a storeroom, tossed itscontents into the hall, and festooned it with used computer tape.Rakkan forgot his Martian dignity and fiddled for a square dance, withIsaacson doing the calling. The folk from the other end of the stationswarmed in till the place overflowed. It was quite a party.

  Hours later, Lancaster was hazily aware of lying stretched on the floor.His head was in Karen's lap and she was stroking his hair. The hardysurvivors were following the Dufreres in French drinking songs, whichare the best in the known universe. Rakkan's fiddle wove in and out, alovely accompaniment to voices that were untrained but made rich andalive by triumph.

  _"Sur ma tomb' je veux qu'on inscrive: 'Ici-git le roi des buveurs.' Sur ma tomb' je veux qu'on inscrive: 'Ici-git le roi des buveurs. Ici-git, oui, oui, oui, Ici-git, non, non, non--'"_

  Lancaster knew that he had never been really happy before.

  * * * * *

  Berg showed up a couple of days later, looking worried. Lancaster'svacation time was almost up. When he heard the news, his eyes snappedgleefully and he pumped the physicist's hand. "Good work, boy!"

  "There are things to clean up yet," said Lancaster, "but it's alldetail. Anybody can do it."

  "And the material--what do you call it, anyway?"

  Karen grinned. "So far, we've only named it _ffuts_," she said. "That's'stuff' spelled backward."

  "Okay, okay. It's easy to manufacture?"

  "Sure. Now that we know how, anybody can make it in his own home--ifhe's handy at tinkering apparatus together."

  "Fine, fine! Just what was needed. This is the ticket." Berg turned backto Lancaster. "Okay, boy, you can pack now. We blast again in a fewhours."

  The physicist shuffled his feet. "What are my chances of gettingre-assigned back here?" he asked. "I've liked it immensely. And now thatI know about it anyway--"

  "I'll see. I'll see. But remember, this is top secret. You go back toyour regular job and don't say a word on this to anyone less than thePresident--no matter what happens, understand?"

  "Of course," snapped Lancaster, irritated. "I know my duty."

  "Yeah, so you do." Berg sighed. "So you do."

  Leavetaking was tough for all concerned. They had grown fond of thequiet, bashful man--and as for him, he wondered how he'd get alongamong normal people. These were his sort. Karen wept openly and kissedhim good-bye with a fervor that haunted his dreams afterward. Then shestumbled desolately back to her quarters. Even Berg looked glum.

  He regained his cockiness on the trip home, though, and insisted ontalking all the way. Lancaster, who wanted to be alone with histhoughts, was annoyed, but you don't insult a Security man.

  "You understand the importance of this whole business, and why it has tobe secret?" nagged Berg. "I'm not thinking of the scientific andindustrial applications, but the military ones."

  "Oh, sure. You can make lightning throwers if you want to. And you'veovercome the fuel problem. With a few _ffuts_ accumulators, charged fromany handy power source, you can build fuelless military vehicles, whichwould simplify your logistics immensely. And some really deadly handguns could be built--pistols the equivalent of a cannon, almost."Lancaster's voice was dead. "So what?"

  "So plenty! Those are only a few of the applications. If you use yourimagination, you can think of dozens more. And the key point is--the_ffuts_ and the essential gadgetry using it are cheap to make inquantity, easy to handle--the perfect weapon for the citizen soldier. Orfor the rebel! It isn't enough to decide the outcome of a war all byitself, but it may very well be precisely the extra element which willtip the military balance against the government. And I've alreadydiscussed what that means."

  "Yes, I remember. That's your department, not mine. Just let me forgetabout it."

  "You'd better," said Berg.

  * * * * *

  In the month after his return, Lancaster lived much as usual. He wasscolded a few times for an increasing absent-mindedness and a lack ofenthusiasm on the Project, but that wasn't too serious. He became moreof an introvert than ever. Having some difficulty with getting to sleep,he resorted to soporifics and then, in a savage reaction, to stimulants.But outwardly there was little to show the turmoil within him.

  He didn't know what to think. He had always been a loyal citizen--not afanatic, but loyal--and it wasn't easy for him to question his own basicassumptions. But he had experienced something utterly alien to what heconsidered normal, and he had found the strangeness more congenial--morehuman in every way--than the norm. He had breathed a differentatmosphere, and it couldn't but seem to him that the air of Earth wastainted. He re-read Kipling's _Chant-Pagan_ with a new understanding,and began to search into neglected philosophies. He studied the news indetail, and his critical eye soon grew jaundiced--did this editorial orthat feature story have any semantic content at all, or was it only atom-tom beat of loaded connotations? The very statements of fact weresubject to doubt--they should be checked against other accounts, orbetter yet against direct observation; but other accounts were forbiddenand there was no chance to see for himself.

  He took to reading seditious pamphlets with some care, and listened to anumber of underground broadcasts, and tried clumsily to sound out thoseof his acquaintances whom he suspected of rebellious thoughts. It allhad to be done very cautiously, with occasional nightmare moments whenhe thought he was being spied on; and was it right that a man should beafraid to hear a dissenting opinion?

  He wondered what his son was doing. It occurred to him that moderneducation existed largely to stultify independent thought.

  At the same time, he was unable to discard the beliefs of his wholelife. Sedition was sedition and treason was treason--you couldn't evadethat fact. There were no more wars--plenty of minor clashes, but no realwars. There was a stable economy, and nobody lacked for the essentials.The universal state might be a poor solution to the problems of a timeof troubles, but it was nevertheless a solution. Change would beunthinkably dangerous.

  Dangerous to whom? To the entrenched powers and their jackals. But theoppressed peoples of Earth had nothing to lose, really, except theirlives, and many of them seemed quite willing to sacrifice those. Did therights of man stop at a full belly, or was there more?

  He tried to take refuge in cynicism. After all, he was well off. He wasa successful jackal. But that wouldn't work either. He required a morebasic philosophy.

  One thing that held him back was the thought that if he became a rebel,he would be pitted against his friends--not only those of Earth, butthat strange joyous crew out in space. He couldn't see fighting againstthem.

  Then there was the very practical consideration that he hadn't thefaintest idea of ho
w to contact the underground even if he wanted to.And he'd make a hell of a poor conspirator.

  He was still in an unhappy and undecided whirlpool when the monitorscame for him.

  * * * * *

  They knocked on the door at midnight, as was their custom, and he feltsuch an utter panic that he could barely make it across the apartment tolet them in. The four burly men wavered before his eyes, and there was aroaring and a darkness in his head. They arrested him without ceremonyon suspicion of treason, which meant that habeas corpus and even theright of trial didn't apply. Two of them escorted him to a car, theother two stayed to search his dwelling.

  At headquarters, he was put in a cell and left to stew for some hours.Then a pair of men in the uniform of the federal police led him to aquestioning chamber. He was given a chair and a smiling, soft-voicedman--almost fatherly, with his plump cheeks and white hair--offered hima cigarette and began talking to him.

  "Just relax, Dr. Lancaster. This is pretty routine. If you've nothing tohide then you've nothing to fear. Just tell the truth."

  "Of course." It was a dry whisper.

  "Oh, you're thirsty. So sorry. Alec, get Dr. Lancaster a glass of water,will you, please? And by the way, my name is Harris. Let's call this afriendly conference, eh?"

  Lancaster drank avidly. Harris' manner was disarming, and the physicistfelt more at ease. This was--well, it was just a mistake. Or maybe asimple spot check. Nothing to fear. He wouldn't be sent to camp--not he.Such things happened to other people, not to Allen Lancaster.

  "You've been immunized against neoscop?" asked Harris.

  "Yes. It's routine for my rank and over, you know. In case we shouldever be kidnapped--but why am I telling _you_ this?" Lancaster tried tosmile. His face felt stiff.

  "Hm. Yes. Too bad."

  "Of course, I've no objection at all to your using a lie detector onme."

  "Fine, fine." Harris beamed and gestured to one of the expressionlesspolicemen. A table was wheeled forth, bearing the instrument. "I'm gladyou're so cooperative, Dr. Lancaster. You've no idea how much troubleit saves me--and you."

  They ran a few harmless calibrating questions. Then Harris said, stillsmiling, "And now tell me, Dr. Lancaster. Where were you really thissummer?"

  Lancaster felt his heart leap into his throat, and knew in a suddenterror that the dials were registering his reaction. "Why--I took myvacation," he stammered. "I was in the Southwest--"

  "Mmmm--the machine doesn't quite agree with you." Harris remainedimpishly cheerful.

  "But it's _true_! You can check back and--"

  "There are such things as doubles, you know. Come, come, now, let's notwaste the whole night. We both have many other things to do."

  "I--look." Lancaster gulped down his panic and tried to speak calmly."Suppose I am lying. The machine should tell you that I'm not doing soout of disloyalty. There are things I can't tell anyone withoutclearance. Like if you asked me about my work on the Project--I can'ttell you that. Why don't you check through regular Security channels?There was a man named Berg--at least he called himself that. You'll findthat it's all perfectly okay with Security."

  "You can tell me anything," said Harris gently.

  "I can't tell you this. Not anybody short of the President." Lancastercaught himself. "Of course, that's assuming that I did really spend thesummer for something other than my vacation. But--"

  Harris sighed. "I was afraid of this. I'm sorry, Lancaster." He noddedto his policemen. "Go ahead, boys."

  * * * * *

  Lancaster kept sliding into unconsciousness. They jolted him back tolife with stimulant injections and vigorous slaps and resumed working onhim. Now and then they would let up and Harris' face would swim out of ahaze of pain, smiling, friendly, sympathetic, offering him a smoke or ashot of whiskey. Lancaster sobbed and wanted more than anything else inthe world to do as that kindly man asked. But he didn't dare. He knewwhat happened to those who revealed state secrets.

  Finally he was thrown back into his cell and left to himself. When herecovered from his faint--that was a very slow process--he had no ideaof how many hours or days had gone by. There was a water tap in the roomand he drank thirstily, vomited the liquid up again, and sat with hishead in his hands.

  So far, he thought dully, they hadn't done too much to him. He was shortseveral teeth, and there were some broken fingers and toes, and maybe afloating kidney. The other bruises, lacerations, and burns would healall right if they got the chance.

  Only they wouldn't.

  He wondered vaguely how Security had gotten onto his track. Berg'sprecautions had been very thorough. So thorough, apparently, that Harriscould find no trace of what had really happened that summer, and wasgoing only on suspicion. But what had made him suspicious in the firstplace? An anonymous tip-off--from whom? Maybe some enemy, some rival onthe Project, had chosen this way of getting rid of his sector chief.

  In the end, Lancaster thought wearily, he'd tell. Why not do it now?Then--probably--he'd only be shot for betraying Berg's confidence. Thatwould be the easy way out.

  No. He'd hang on for awhile yet. There was always a faint chance.

  His cell door opened and two guards came in. He was past flinching fromthem, but he had to be supported on his way to the questioning room.

  Harris sat there, still smiling. "How do you do, Dr. Lancaster," he saidpolitely.

  "Not so well, thank you." The grin hurt his face.

  "I'm sorry to hear that. But really, it's your own fault. You knowthat."

  "I can't tell you anything," said Lancaster. "I'm under Security oath. Ican't speak of this to anyone below the President."

  Harris looked annoyed. "Don't you think the President has better thingsto do than come running to every enemy of the state that yaps afterhim?"

  "There's been some mistake, I tell you," pleaded Lancaster.

  "I'll say there has. And you're the one that's made it. Go ahead, boys."Harris picked up a magazine and started reading.

  * * * * *

  After awhile, Lancaster focused his mind on Karen Marek and kept itthere. That helped him bear up. If they knew, out in the station, whatwas happening to him, they--well, they wouldn't forget him, try topretend they'd never known him, as the little fearful people of Earthdid. They'd speak up, and do their damnedest to save their friend.

  The blows seemed to come from very far away. They didn't do things likethis out in the station. Lancaster realized the truth at that moment,but it held no surprise. The most natural thing in the world. And now,of course, he'd never talk.

  Maybe.

  When he woke up, there was a man before him. The face blurred, seemed togrow to monstrous size and then move out to infinite distances. Thevoice of Harris had a ripple in it, wavering up and down, up and down.

  "All right, Lancaster, here's the President. Since you insist, here heis."

  "Go ahead, American," said the man. "Tell me. It's your duty."

  "No," said Lancaster.

  "But I am the President. You wanted to see me."

  "Most likely a double. Prove your identity."

  The man who looked like the President sighed and turned away.

  * * * * *

  Lancaster woke up again lying on a cot. He must have been brought awakeby a stimulant, for a white-coated figure was beside him, holding ahypodermic syringe. Harris was there too, looking exasperated.

  "Can you talk?" he asked.

  "I--yes." Lancaster's voice was a dull croak. He moved his head, feelingthe ache of it.

  "Look here, fellow," said Harris. "We've been pretty easy with you sofar. Nothing has happened to you that can't be patched up. But we'regetting impatient now. It's obvious that you're a traitor and hidingsomething."

  Well, yes, thought Lancaster, he was a traitor, by one definition. Onlyit seemed to him that a man had a right to choose his own loyalties.Having experienced what the p
olice state meant, he would have beenuntrue to himself if he had yielded to it.

  "If you don't answer my questions in the next session," said Harris,"we'll have to start getting really rough."

  Lancaster remained silent. It was too much effort to try to speak.

  "Don't think you're being heroic," said Harris. "There's nothing prettyor even very human about a man under interrogation. You've beenscreaming as loud as anybody."

  Lancaster looked away.

  He heard the doctor's voice. "I'd advice giving him a few days' restbefore starting again, sir."

  "You're new here, aren't you?" asked Harris.

  "Yes, sir. I was only assigned to this duty a few weeks ago."

  "Well, we don't put on kid gloves for traitors."

  "That's not what I mean, sir," said the doctor. "There are limits topain beyond which further treatment simply doesn't register. Also, I'm alittle suspicious about this man's heart. It has a murmur, andquestioning puts a terrific strain on it. You wouldn't want him to dieon your hands, would you, sir?"

  "Mmmm--no. What do you advise?"

  "Just a few days in the hospital, with treatment and rest. It'll alsohave a psychological effect as he thinks of what's waiting for him."

  Harris considered for a moment. "All right. I've got enough other thingsto do anyway."

  "Very good, sir. You won't regret this."

  Lancaster heard the footsteps retreat into silence. Presently the doctorcame around to stand facing him. He was a short, curly-haired man ofundistinguished appearance. For a moment they locked eyes, thenLancaster closed his. He wanted to tell the doctor to go away, but itwasn't worth the trouble.

  Later he was put on a stretcher and carried down endless halls toanother cell. This one had a hospital look about it, somehow, and theair was sharp with the smell of antiseptics. The doctor came when he wasinstalled in bed and took his arm and slipped a needle into it. "Sleepytime," he said.

  Lancaster drifted away again.

  * * * * *

  When he woke up, he felt darkness and movement. He looked around,wondering if he had gone blind, and the breath moaned out between hisbruised lips. A hand was laid on his shoulder and a voice spoke out ofthe black.

  "It's okay, fella. Take it easy. There'll be no more questions."

  It was the doctor's voice, and the doctor looked nothing at all likeCharon, but still Lancaster wondered if he weren't being ferried overthe river of death. There was a thrumming all about him, and he heard alow keening of wind. "Where are we going?" he mumbled.

  "Away. You're in a stratorocket now. Just take it easy."

  Lancaster fell asleep after awhile.

  Beyond that there was a drugged, confused period where he was only dimlyaware of moving and trying to talk. Shadows floated across his vision,shadows telling him something he couldn't quite grasp. He followedobediently enough. Full clarity came eventually, and he was lying in abunk looking up at a metal ceiling. The shivering pulse of rocketstrembled in his body. A spaceship?

  A spaceship!

  He sat up, heart thudding, and looked wildly around. "Hey!" he cried.

  The remembered figure of Berg came through the door. "Hullo, Allen," hesaid. "How're you feeling?"

  "I--you--" Lancaster sank weakly back to his pillow. He grew aware thathe was thoroughly bandaged, splinted, and braced, and that there was nomore pain. Not much, anyway.

  "I feel fine," he said.

  "Good, good. The doc says you'll be okay." Berg sat down on the edge ofthe bunk. "I can't stay here long, but the hell with it. We'll be at thestation soon. You deserve to know some things, such as that you've beenrescued."

  "Well, that's obvious," said Lancaster.

  "By us. The rebels. The underground. Subversive characters."

  "That's obvious too. And thanks--" The word was so ridiculouslyinadequate that Lancaster had to laugh.

  * * * * *

  "I suppose you've guessed most of it already," said Berg. "We needed ascientist of your caliber for our project. One thing we're desperatelyshort of is technical personnel, since the only real education in suchlines is to be had on Earth and most graduates find comfortable berthsin the existing society. Like you, for instance. So we played a trick onyou. We used part of our organization--yes, we have a big one, and it'spretty smart and powerful too--to convince you this was a government jobof top secrecy. More damn things can be done in the name of Security--"Berg clicked his tongue. "Everybody you saw at the station was more orless play-acting, of course. The whole thing was set up to fool you. Wemight not have gotten away with it if we'd used some other person, moreshrewd about such things, but we'd studied you and knew you for anamiable, unsuspicious guy, too wrapped up in your own work to gowitch-smelling."

  "I guessed that much," admitted Lancaster. "After I'd been in the cellsfor awhile. Your way of living and thinking was so different fromanything like--"

  "Yeah. I'm sorry as hell about that, Allen. We thought you could justreturn to ordinary life, but somehow--through one of those accidents ormalices inevitable in a state where every man spies on hisneighbor--you were hauled in. We knew of it at once--yes, we've eveninfiltrated the secret police--and decided to do something about it.Quite apart from the danger of your betraying what you knew--we couldhave eliminated that by quietly murdering you--there was the fact thatwe'd gotten you into this and did owe you something. We managed to getDr. Pappas transferred to the inquisitory where you were being held. Hedrugged you, producing a remarkably corpse-like figure, and smuggled youout as simply another one who'd died under questioning. I used mySecurity papers to get the body for special autopsy instead of the usualimmediate cremation. Then we simply drove till we reached thestratorocket we'd arranged to have ready, and you were flown to ourspaceboat, and now you're on the way back to the station. You were keptunder drugs most of the way to help you rest--they'd knocked you aroundquite a bit in the inquisitory. So--" Berg shrugged. "Pappas can't goback to Earth now, of course, but we can always use a medic in space,and it was well worth the trouble to rescue you."

  "I'm honored," said Lancaster.

  "I still feel like hell about what happened to you, though."

  "It's all right. I can't say I enjoyed it, but now that I've learnedsome hard facts--oh, well, forget the painful nature of the lesson. I'llbe okay. And I'm going home!"

  * * * * *

  Jessup supported Lancaster as they entered the space station. His oldcrew was there waiting to greet him. They were all immensely pleased tohave him back, though Karen wept bitterly on his shoulder.

  "It's all right," he told her. "I'm not in such bad shape as I look.Honest, Karen, I'm all right. And now that I have gotten back, and knowwhere I really belong--damn, but it was worth it!"

  She looked at him with eyes as gray as a rainy dawn. "And you are withus?" she whispered. "You're one of us? Of your own will?"

  "Of course I am. Give me a week or two to rest, and I'll be back in thelab bossing all of you like a Simon Legree. Hell, we've just begun onthat super-dielectricity. And there are a lot of other things I want totry out, too."

  "It means exile," she said. "No more blue skies and green valleys andocean winds. No more going back to Earth."

  "Well, there are other planets, aren't there? And we'll go back to Earthin the next decade, I bet. Back to start a new American Revolution andwrite the Bill of Rights in the sky for all to see." Lancaster grinnedshyly. "I'm not much at making speeches, and I certainly don't like tolisten to them. But I've learned the truth and I want to say it outloud. The right of man to be free is the most basic one he's got, andwhen he gives that up he finishes by surrendering everything else too.You people are fighting to bring back honesty and liberty and thepossibility of progress. I hope nobody here is a fanatic, becausefanaticism is exactly what we're fighting against. I say we, becausefrom now on I'm one of you. That is, if you're sure you want me."

  He stopped, c
lumsily. "Okay. Speech ended."

  Karen drew a shivering breath and smiled at him. "And everything elsejust begun, Allen," she said. He nodded, feeling too much for words.

  "Get to bed with you," ordered Pappas.

  * * * * *

  Jessup led Lancaster off, and one by one the others drifted back totheir jobs. Finally only Karen and Berg stood by the airlock.

  "You keep your beautiful mouth shut, my dear," said the man.

  "Oh, sure." Karen sighed unhappily. "I wish I'd never learned yourscheme. When you explained it to me I wanted to shoot you."

  "You insisted on an explanation," said Berg defensively. "When Allen wasdue to go back to Earth, you wanted us to tell him who we were and keephim. But it wouldn't have worked. I've studied his dossier, and he's notthe kind of man to switch loyalties that easily. If we were to have himat all, it could only be with his full consent. And now we've got him."

  "It was still a lousy trick," she said.

  "Of course it was. But we had no choice. We _had_ to have a first-ratephysicist."

  "You know," she said, "you're a rat from way back."

  "That I am. And by and large, I enjoy it." Berg grimaced. "Though I mustadmit this job leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I like Allen. It was thehardest thing I ever did, tipping off the federal police about him."

  He turned on his heel and walked away, smiling faintly.

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from _Space Science Fiction_ February 1953.Extensive research did