The Fury Out of Time (5 page)

“I wouldn’t believe it myself, sir, if I hadn’t seen it. But I did see it.”

“Even on a straight line it’s several miles from Whistler’s to the tree. Following a spiral path, Force X probably traveled—oh, say ten miles for each mile of diameter. The surveyors can give us the exact figures. What you’re saying is that Force X covered perhaps fifty miles in less than a minute, which would require an average velocity of. . .uh. . .something in excess of three thousand miles per hour.”

“Something like that, sir,” Karvel said with a grin.

“And since Force X was accelerating—you say—it must have been traveling considerably faster than that when it struck you.”

“That’s the way I have it figured.”

Colonel Stubbins leaned back disgustedly. “If you’d been struck by anything going that fast, your present physical dimensions would be a fraction of a millimeter thick by a good many yards square.”

“I can’t disagree with you, sir. That I survived at all is an impossibility, but what’s one more impossibility among so many?”

“Frankly, Major, I was hoping for something better than that from you—something rational, let’s say. What would be your evaluation of Force X as a military weapon?”

“I don’t know. Against a specific target, it would depend on how accurately it could be delivered. Against a general target, such as a population center, it would frighten me.”

“At least there’s one point we can agree on. If Force X had started its spirals in New York City’s Times Square, we’d have a catastrophe on our hands that almost defies description. We have to decide immediately whether this U.O. was delivered here by a foreign power, and if so, why this particular area was chosen—if it was chosen. The U.O. could have been aimed at this base, but Hatch Air Force Base isn’t as important as all that. Are we being given a few days to survey the damage before we receive an ultimatum, or was the U.O. intended for a major Midwest city and sent with unbelievably bad aim? The military implications— What’s that, Rogers?”

“We’re wasting our time,” the army colonel said. “Obviously the major can’t help us on the critical point, but ask him anyway, and let’s get out of here.”

“Ah—yes. Major Karvel, we’re assuming that the U.O. and Force-X represent cause and effect because the U.O.’s position is the precise center of the spiral. Among other things we’d like to know whether Force X commenced the instant the U.O. arrived, and since you didn’t see the U.O. arrive I don’t suppose you can help us.”

“No, sir. I don’t suppose so.”

“Time, gentlemen,” Colonel Vukin said.

Colonel Stubbins ignored him. “Have you anything else to tell us about this, Major?”

Karvel hesitated for a moment, shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Thank you, Major. Except for that fat tavern owner, you’re our only witness of any consequence. If you think of anything else, I want to know about it immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Stubbins got to his feet, pushed his chair back, and started for the door. Sergeant Gore closed her notebook with a snap and followed him. Colonel Frazier walked over to the bed.

He said softly, “I have a message of commendation for you from the governor. Your prompt action in getting the rescue work started saved some lives, not to mention bringing speedy aid and comfort to the injured. I also want to apologize for what I said last night. On reflection, I decided that there was no way for you to know that Force X wouldn’t reach the base, and considering the destruction you’d seen, your action in suggesting a tornado alert was entirely proper.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I also want to compliment you for resisting what must have been a powerful urge to wave that damned butterfly under Colonel Stubbins’s nose.”

“Thank you, sir, but you deserve the credit. You convinced me last night that I shouldn’t wave it.”

Frazier turned away, his facial expression enigmatic. Colonel Rogers stood waiting in the doorway. “Coming?” Frazier asked Haskins.

Haskins shook his head. “I’ll walk back.”

Frazier nodded, and went out. Haskins moved a chair close to the bed, and calmly seated himself. When Colonel Vukin advanced on him, he said good-naturedly, “Cut the act, Colonel. I’m not part of the chain of command. I have one question for the major.”

“How do you feel, Karvel?” Vukin asked.

“No worse than I did an hour ago.”

“Ring when you want him thrown out .”

“Let me know as soon as you hear from the professor,” Karvel said. He turned to Haskins. “What’s the question?”

Haskins felt his hand reaching for a cigar. He moved it away reluctantly. “What are you holding back, Major?”

Karvel met his eyes steadily. Vukin left, muttering something that Haskins did not understand. A nurse opened the door, said, “Oh, excuse me,” and closed it. Still Karvel’s gaze did not waver. Haskins, who spent his waking hours meticulously evaluating those human animals who attracted his attention, knew that he was being measured himself, and he resented it.

“Who are you?” Karvel asked finally.

“Gerald Haskins, just as I was when Colonel Frazier introduced us. Shall I have him come back and vouch for me?”

“No. Your credentials must carry some impact, or you wouldn’t have gotten in here.”

“And so I say again, Major—what are you holding back?”

Karvel closed his eyes. “I don’t really know if I’m holding anything back,” he said slowly. For the first time Haskins became aware of his rapid, shallow breathing, and realized that Colonel Vukin had not been pulling hospital rank on his superiors for the fun of it. Karvel was a sick man, and— after his interview with the colonels—a very tired one. “Until I find out,” he went on, “I’m going to keep my mouth shut. How about letting me ask a few questions.”

“Go ahead.”

“What are the chances that the U.O. came from outer space?”

“None at all,” Haskins said, “unless it was enclosed in something else. The external surface is a relatively soft alloy. It would have burned in the upper atmosphere.”

“I suppose you won’t know if the thing is self-propelled until you break into it.”

“We’ve already broken into it,” Haskins said. “That was no problem. All we had to do was open a hatch. It was a bit more complicated than it sounds, but only because no one ever saw a hatch like this one. It operates on the principle of an iris diaphragm—something like the adjustment on the lens aperture of a camera. We opened it, but we still don’t know if the U.O. is self-propelled.”

“Hatch? You mean a
passenger
hatch? Was the thing designed to carry passengers?”

“It was designed to carry one passenger.”

“Then you
really
have a problem. Was there a passenger, and if so, what happened to him?”

“No problem at all,” Haskins said peacefully. “There was a passenger, and when we opened the hatch he was still there. Unfortunately, he was dead. Extremely dead. Smashed the way those cattle were smashed, only more so. The U.O. required extensive cleaning before we could begin to study it comfortably. Now may I ask you a question?”

Karvel nodded.

“What are you holding back?”

“I won’t know until I’ve talked with an expert. I’ve invited one, a college professor, and he’s promised to come as soon as he can get away. When and if he arrives, you can ask him about it.”

“Give me his name and address, and I’ll hurry him up.”

“He’s detained by the circumstance of his wife’s having a baby,” Karvel said. “I don’t question the potency of your influence, sir, but I doubt that even you can hurry that.”

“What kind of an expert is he?”

“A lepidopterologist.”

“It sounds like an extremely rare species of expert,” Haskins said dryly. “I was thinking of drafting a substitute, but I doubt that a. . .lepidopterologist, was it?. . .is that easy to locate on a Sunday morning. I’ll wait for your professor. And because he is a. . .lepidopterologist. . .that means you are holding back—”

“One butterfly,” Karvel said. He raised a hand tiredly as Haskins started to speak. “No amplification, and no more questions. Please.”

Haskins obediently moved toward the door. “Thank you, Major. I’ll be seeing you.”

Chapter 3

Professor Kent Alexander arrived shortly after two, and was detained in the lobby until Haskins reached the hospital. Colonel Vukin introduced them, and Alexander gave Haskins a cigar, told him it was a boy, seven pounds four ounces, and asked what had happened to Karvel.

“He was in an accident,” Haskins said.

“He sounded incoherent on the telephone. Or maybe it was a bad connection. I thought he said he’d found—”

“Let’s see it before we talk about it,” Haskins said. “I’ll take him up, Colonel. Thank you.”

He hurried the professor away before Vukin could object.

“Are you interested in butterflies?” Alexander asked.

“Only in this one,” Haskins said.

The professor was something of a disappointment to him. Gangly, youthful-looking, shy, he had the appearance of a flustered undergraduate—or, Haskins reminded himself, of a new father. He decided to postpone judgment.

The professor bounded into Karvel’s room ahead of him and burst into laughter. “Aren’t you getting a little old for this sort of thing? What does the other guy look like? Here—have a cigar.”

“I didn’t touch him,” Karvel said. “And no, thanks. It may be weeks before I can inhale properly. What took you so long?”

Haskins closed the door, and unobtrusively took possession of a chair in the corner.

“I was driving carefully,” Alexander said. “I want my son to be at least a day old before he’s an orphan. And man, am I tired. Didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. Hospital waiting room. Gruesome experience. It’s enough to give one a wholesome respect for nature. Who’d want to go through that more than once a year?”

“Your wife probably agrees with you,” Karvel said.

“At least she had an anesthetic. Where
is
it, man? If you’ve made me drive a hundred miles just to investigate one of your hallucinations, I’ll choke you.”

Karvel opened the nightstand drawer, took out a small cardboard box, and opened it. The professor stared, whipped out a pocket lens, and stared again. His breath hissed audibly. “Bowden,” he whispered. “I’ll name the boy Bowden, though Doris swears he’ll go through life answering to his middle name if I do.”

“What do you think of it?” Karvel asked.

“I don’t know what I think. I can’t think. The thing is absolutely impossible. It’s a monster. Where’d you get it?”

“I was sitting on a fallen tree, and it circled me a couple of times and lit right beside me.”

“You’re sure you saw it fly?”

“Positive. What I’d like to know is whether such a drastic mutation can occur at one crack, or whether it would require gradual evolutionary changes over a large number of generations.”

“You’ve got me. I’m no geneticist.”

“What’s your answer as a lepidopterologist?”

“Yes to both questions. Because the changes
are
so drastic, it’s hard to believe that they all occurred in a single mutation. On the other hand, if a long series of evolutionary changes had taken place, some of the intermediate stages should have come to light. A lot of people collect butterflies, and someone, somewhere, would have found a monarch with a thorax like this one, or eyes—did you notice the eyes?—or wings, or. . .” He paused. “I’m not sure even now that you’re not pulling my leg. It’s hard to believe this even when I’m looking at it. My God—a bialate, bipedal butterfly!”

“It’s real. I told you—it flew around me a couple of times and landed right beside me, which was a colossal piece of luck. If I’d had to take even one step to catch it, it would have gotten away.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t walk.”

“You lack the true scientific spirit. I’d run a mile to catch this, whether I could walk or not.”

“Sure you would,” Karvel said disgustedly. Haskins chose that moment to leave his chair. “May I see it?” he asked.

Alexander held the box under his nose. Haskins scrutinized the impaled butterfly, shrugged, and returned to his place in the corner. He was wondering if Karvel, with the professor’s assistance, was trying to pull
his
leg.

“If it did require a series of evolutionary changes,” Karvel asked, “how long would they take?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Alexander said. “As I said before, I’m no geneticist.”

“I’m not asking for a scientific paper. Just an educated guess.”

“I haven’t got that kind of an education.”

“An uneducated guess, then.”

“I can’t even give you that. I’ll make some inquiries, though. Can I take it with me?”

“You might as well,” Karvel said. “If a certain colonel sees it again, he’ll try to make me eat it. Push those inquiries, will you?”

“Sure. There’s a man at the college who might be able to help. Ferguson, his name is. He’ll know whom to ask, anyway. What do you think of it, Mr. Haskins?”