The Collected Stories of Frank Herbert (26 page)

The cell door rattled.

Hulser looked up. A wizened figure in a colonel's uniform stood on the other side of the bars. He was a tiny man, gray-haired, eyes like a curious bird, a dried parchment skin. In the proper costume he would have looked like a medieval sorcerer.

A youthful MP sergeant stepped into view, unlocked the door, stood aside. The colonel entered the cell.

“Well, well,” he said.

Hulser came to his feet, saluted.

“Will you be needing me, sir?” asked the MP sergeant.

“Eh?” The colonel turned. “Oh. No, sergeant. Just leave that door open and—”

“But sir—”

“Nobody could get out of this cell block, could they sergeant?”

“No, sir. But—”

“Then just leave the door open and run along.”

“Yes, sir.” The sergeant saluted, frowned, turned away. His footsteps echoed down the metal floor of the corridor.

The colonel turned back to Hulser. “So you're the young man with the bright ideas.”

Hulser cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”

The colonel glanced once around the cell. “I'm Colonel Page of General Savage's staff. Chemical warfare.”

Hulser nodded.

“The general's adjutant suggested that I come over and talk to you,” said Page. “He thought a chemist might—”

“Page!” said Hulser. “You're not the Dr. Edmond Page who did the work on pseudo-lithium?”

The colonel's face broke into a pleased smile. “Why … yes, I am.”

“I read everything about your work that I could get my hands on,” said Hulser. “It struck me that if you'd just—” His voice trailed off.

“Do go on,” said Page.

Hulser swallowed. “Well, if you'd just moved from organic chemistry into inorganic, that—” He shrugged.

“I might have induced direct chemical rather than organic reactions?” asked Page.

“Yes, sir.”

“That thought didn't occur to me until I was on my way over here,” said Page. He gestured toward the cot. “Do sit down.”

Hulser slumped back to the cot.

Page looked around, finally squeezed past Hulser's knees, sat down on the lid of the water closet. “Now, let's find out just what your idea is.”

Hulser stared at his hands.

“I've discussed this with the general,” said Page. “We feel that you may know what you're talking about. We would deeply appreciate a complete explanation.”

“What do I have to lose?” asked Hulser.

“You may have reason for feeling bitter,” said Page. “But after reading the charges against you I would say that you've been at least partly responsible for your present situation.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Now, tell me exactly how you propose to detonate munitions at a distance … this projector you've talked about.”

Hulser took a deep breath.
This is a chemist,
he thought.
Maybe I can convince him.
He looked up at Page, began explaining.

Presently, the colonel interrupted. “But it takes enormous amounts of energy to change the atomic—”

“I'm not talking about changing atomic structure in that sense, sir. Don't you see it? I merely set up an artificial condition
as though
a catalyst were present. A pseudo-catalyst. And this brings out of the static mixture substances that are already there: Ionized hydrogen from moisture—fluorine from the actual components in the case of Trinox. White phosphorus from Ditrate, Nitric oxide and rhombic sulfur from common gunpowder.”

Page wet his lips with his tongue. “But what makes you think that—in a nonorganic system—the presence of the pseudo-catalyst—” He shook his head. “Of course! How stupid of me! You'd first get a polar reaction—just as I did with pseudo-lithium. And that would be the first step into—” His eyes widened and he stared at Hulser. “My dear boy, I believe you've opened an entirely new field in nonorganic chemistry!”

“Do you see it, sir?”

“Of course I see it!” Page got to his feet. “You'd be creating an artificial radical with unstable perimeter. The presence of the slightest bit of moisture in that perimeter would give you your ionized hydrogen and—” He clapped his hands like a small boy in glee. “Kapowie!”

Hulser smiled.

Page looked down at him. “Corporal, I do believe your projector might work. I confess that I don't understand about field lattices and these other electronic matters, but you apparently do.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did you ever stumble onto this?” asked Page.

“I was thinking about the lattice effect in our Life Detector systems—when suddenly, there it was: the complete idea!”

Page nodded. “It was one of those things that had to remain dormant until the precisely proper set of circumstances.” Page squeezed past Hulser's knees. “No, no. Stay right there. I'm going to set up a meeting with Colonel Allenby of the L-D section, and I'll get in someone with more of a mechanical bent—probably Captain Stevens.” He nodded. “Now, corporal, you just stay right here until—” His glance darted around the cell, and he laughed nervously. “Don't you worry, young man. We'll have you out of here in a few hours.”

*   *   *

Hulser was to look back on the five weeks of the first phase in “Operation Big Boom” as a time of hectic unreality. Corps ordered the project developed in General Savage's reserve area after a set of preliminary plans had been shipped outside. The thinking was that there'd be less chance of a security leak that close to a combat zone, and that the vast barrens of the reserve area offered better opportunity for a site free of things that could detonate mysteriously and lead to unwanted questions.

But Corps was taking no chances. They ringed the area with special detachments of MPs. Recording specialists moved in on the project, copied everything for shipment stateside.

They chose an open tableland well away from their own munitions for the crucial test. It was a barren, windy place: gray rocks poking up from frozen earth. The long black worm of a power cable stretched away into the distance behind the test shelter.

A weasel delivered Hulser and Page to the test site. The projector box sat on the seat between them. It was housed in a green container two feet square and four feet long. A glass tube protruded from one end. A power connection, sealed and with a red “do not connect” sign, centered the opposite end. A tripod mounting occupied one side at the balance point.

The morning was cold and clear with a brittle snap to the air. The sky had a deep cobalt quality, almost varnished in its intensity.

About fifty people were gathered for the test. They were strung out through the shelter—a long shed open along one side. An empty tripod stood near the open side and almost in the center. On both sides of the tripod technicians sat before recording instruments. Small black wires trailed away ahead of them torward an ebony mound almost a mile from the shed and directly opposite the open side.

General Savage already was on the scene, talking with a stranger who had arrived that morning under an impressive air cover. The stranger had worn civilian clothes. Now, he was encased in an issue parka and snowpants. He didn't look or act like a civilian. And it was noted that General Savage addressed him as “sir.”

The general was a brusque, thick-bodied man with the overbearing confidence of someone secure in his own ability. His face held a thick-nosed, square-jawed bulldog look. In fatigues without insignia, he could have been mistaken for a sergeant. He looked the way a hard, old-line sergeant is expected to look. General Savage's men called him “Me Tarzan” mainly because he took snow baths, mother naked, in subzero weather.

A white helmeted security guard ringed the inside of the test shed. Hulser noted that they wore no sidearms, carried no weapons except hand-held bayonets. He found himself thinking that he would not have been surprised to see them carrying crossbows.

General Savage waved to Page as the colonel and Hulser entered the shed. Colonel Page returned the gesture, stopped before a smooth-cheeked lieutenant near the tripod.

“Lieutenant,” said Page, “have all explosives except the test stack been removed from the area?”

The lieutenant froze to ramrod attention, saluted, “Yes, sir, colonel.”

Page took a cigarette from his pocket. “Let me have your cigarette lighter, please, lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant fumbled in a pocket, withdrew a chrome lighter, handed it to Page.

Colonel Page took the lighter in his hand, looked at it for a moment, hurled both lighter and cigarette out into the snow. The lighter landed about sixty feet away.

The lieutenant paled, then blushed.

The colonel said, “Every cigarette lighter, every match. And check with everyone to see that they took those special pills at least four hours ago. We don't want any
internal
combustion without a motor around it.”

The lieutenant looked distraught, “Yes, sir.”

“And, lieutenant, stop the last weasel and have the driver wait to cart the stuff you collect out of our area.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant hurried away.

*   *   *

Page turned back to Hulser, who had mounted the projector on its tripod, and now stood beside it.

“All ready, sir,” said Hulser. “Shall I connect the cable?”

“What do you think?” asked Page.

“We're as ready as we'll ever be.”

“Okay. Connect it, then stand by with the switch in your hands.”

Hulser turned to comply. And now, as the moment of the critical test approached, he felt his legs begin to tremble. He felt sure that everyone could see his nervousness.

A tense stillness came over the people in the shed.

General Savage and his visitor approached. The general was explaining the theory of the projector.

His visitor nodded.

Seen close-up, the other man gave the same impression of hard competence that radiated from General Savage—only more competent, harder. His cheekbones were like two ridges of tan rock beneath cavernous sockets, brooding dark eyes.

General Savage pointed to the black mound of explosives in the distance. “We have instruments in there with the explosives, sir. The wires connect them with our recorders here in the shed. We have several types of explosives to be tested, including kerosene, gasoline, engine oil. Everything we could lay our hands on except atomics. But if these things blow, then we'll know the projector also will work on atomics.”

The visitor spoke, and his voice came out with a quality like a stick dragged through gravel. “It was explained to me that—the theory being correct—this projector will work on any petroleum fuel, including coal.”

“Yes, sir,” said Savage. “It is supposed to ignite coal. We have a few lumps in a sack to one side. You can't see it because of the snow. But our instruments will tell us which of these things are effected—” he glanced at Hulser “—if any.”

Colonel Page returned from checking the recording instruments.

Savage turned to the colonel. “Are we ready, Ed?”

“Yes, general.” He glanced at Hulser, nodded. “Let's go, Larry. Give it power.”

Hulser depressed the switch in his hand, involuntarily closed his eyes, then snapped them open and stared at the distant explosives.

A low humming arose from the projector.

Page spoke to the general. “It'll take a little time for the effect to build u—”

As he started to say “up” the mound of explosives went
up
in a giant roaring and rumbling. Colonel Page was left staring at the explosion, his mouth shaped to say “p.”

Steam and dust hid the place where the explosives had been.

The gravel voice of the visitor spoke behind Hulser. “Well, there goes the whole shooting match, general. And I
do
mean shooting!”

“It's what we were afraid of, sir,” said Savage. “But there's no help for it now.” He sounded bitter.

Hulser was struck by the bitterness in both voices. He turned, became conscious that the lieutenant whom Page had reprimanded was beating at a flaming breast pocket, face livid. The people around him were laughing, trying to help.

Page had hurried along the line of recorders, was checking each one.

The significance of the lieutenant's antics suddenly hit Hulser.
Matches! He forgot his spare matches after losing his cigarette lighter!
Hulser glanced to where the colonel had thrown the lighter, saw a black patch in the snow.

Page returned from checking the recorders. “We can't be sure about the coal, but as nearly as we can determine, it touched off everything else in the stack!” He put an arm on Hulser's shoulder. “This young genius has won the war for us.”

Savage turned, scowled at Hulser.

The (civilian?) snorted.

But Hulser was staring out at the explosion crater, a look of euphoria on his face.

The technicians were moving out into the area now, probing cautiously for unexploded fragments.

The general and his visitor exchanged a glance that could have meant anything.

Savage signaled his radio operator to call for transportation.

Presently, a line of weasels came roaring up to the test site.

Savage took Hulser's arm in a firm grip. “You'd better come with us. You're a valuable piece of property now.”

Hulser's mind came back to the curious conversation between Savage and the visitor after the explosion, and he was struck by the odd sadness in the general's voice.
Could he be an old war dog sorry to see it end?
Somehow, on looking at the general, that didn't fit.

*   *   *

They sped across the barrens to the base, Hulser uncomfortable between the general and his visitor. Apparently, no one wanted to discuss what had just happened. Hulser was made uncomfortable by the lack of elation around him. He looked at the back of the driver's neck, but that told him nothing.