minutes, first.”
Ten minutes wasn’t much. Not much, for a man who has just been halfway across a universe to spend with his girl. But time was what they didn’t have, an inexorable limit was closing down on them every second, and even this little time he took to go to Carol was time cheated and stolen from the common need.
Yet in the face of this terrible decision that had been taken, this thing that they were going to do to Earth, he had to see her, to quiet her fears and reassure her as best he could. He thought she would want to take frightened refuge on the cruiser, when the moment came, and he could only hope that he could get her on it.
Carol was waiting, as though she had known he would come. And to Kenniston’s amazement, there was no fear in her face—it was bright with eagerness and hope, her eyes lighted in a way he had not seen since the old time.
“Ken, can it really be done?” she cried. “Will it really work, make Earth warmer?”
“We’re so sure that we’re gambling everything it will,” he said. “Of course, there’s always a chance of failure—”
She didn’t even listen to that. Her hands clutched his arms, her face had a breathless excitement, as she explained, “But that doesn’t matter!
It’s worth running any chance, if it succeeds! If it lets us go back to Middletown—”
He saw the mist in her eyes, the hunger, the yearning, as she whispered, “Just to think of it—of going back to our own town, our own homes, our own people—”
Kenniston understood, now. Deep indeed was her homesickness for the old town, for the old way of life. So deep, that it had completely conquered the fear she might otherwise have felt
He took her in his arms and kissed her, and touched her hair, and he was thinking, She does love me—but only as part of a life that’s gone, not me alone, not just John Kenniston by himself, but the Kenniston of Middletown. And she’ll be happy with me again, if we can change our life back a little to what it was.
Why did that thought bring no joy? Why must he think of Varn Allan, tired and lonely, and yet courageously facing the wide universe, carrying a burden of duty too heavy for her?
Carol was asking him, “What was it like, Ken? Out there?”
He shook his head. “Strange—and hostile—and beautiful, in a terrible way.”
She said, “I think it changed you, a little. I think it would change anybody.”
And she shivered a little, as though even in the touch of him now was a freezing breath of alien deeps, a taint of unearthly worlds.
“No, Carol,” he said. “I’m not changed! But I can’t stay now. I have to get back—every minute is precious —”
As he hurried back to the others, Kenniston saw that New Middletown had become a rushing, surging swirl of excitement. Voices called to him, hands grabbed to delay him, men and women tried to reach him with questions. He was glad to rejoin the others around the lip of the great heat shaft.
Gorr Holl grinned his frightening grin at him. “Now, get ready to work!”
For what seemed an eternity, Kenniston worked. Machinists and sheet metal workers of Middletown were called in, every available man and piece of equipment. Great loads were brought in from the ship. Hammers rang with a deafening clamor, shaping metal on improvised forges.
Riveting machines gave out their staccato thunder.
And gradually, painfully, shaped out of the sweat and effort of their bodies, a scaffolding of steel girders rose above the mouth of the great shaft
Magro labored with the technicians over the complicated and delicate electrofuses, and the timing devices, and the radio control that from a distance would drop and detonate the charge.
Kenniston had little time to think of anything but the work. Yet his mind reverted strangely often to Varn Allan, locked in her cabin aboard the cruiser, and he wondered what her thoughts were.
Morning came. The city was to be cleared by noon, and the men and women of Middletown were gathering their children in readiness. They would not take much out of the city with them. They would not need much, either way.
The cryptic black ovoid was wheeled into position by the shaft. And with it were brought four small round objects of a different look.
“Capper bombs, that we made in the ship’s laboratory on the way here,” explained Arnol. “They will drop an instant after the energy bomb and will explode in the shaft just before it detonates below, sealing the shaft to prevent backlash.”
Kenniston watched while the technicians set the capper bombs in their racks, one above the other, inside the frame of girders. The racks would be tripped by electronic relay, from the remote control box.
Kenniston felt an increasing dread, as the fateful moment loomed close. His dread was for the trusting thousands of Middletown, who accepted the powers of scientists with the same unquestioning faith with which men had once accepted the powers of wizards.
He hoped that, if the experiment were a disastrous failure, he would not survive to know it.
A crane had been rigged to handle the energy bomb. The electronics crew were working desperately to finish the intricate wiring of the rack mechanisms, the split second timing of the relays. One of the cantilever support girders had flawed, and steel workers were sweating away to replace it.
A few more hours now, and the thing would be done. By noon, or a little after, they would know whether Earth was to live or die.
Then one of Arnol’s men came running. He had run all the way from the starcruiser. He was breathless, and his eyes were wild.
He cried out to Arnol, “A message on the televisor from a Control Squadron! They say they are approaching Earth, and order us to cease operations at once!”
Chapter 20
APPOINTMENT WITH DESTINY
Kenniston felt the impact of the news as a catastrophe crushing all their desperate hopes. He stood sagging, looking at the technicians who stared frozenly back.
Like an ominous echo, Varn Allan’s warning came back into his mind.
“You cannot fight Federation law!”
But Jon Arnol, raging at seeing the dream of a lifetime threatened at this last moment, rushed forward to the messenger.
He grabbed the man’s collar. “Did you think to use a distance gauge on the message from those ships?”
The man nodded hastily. “Yes. The readings were—”
“The devil with readings! How far from Earth are those ships?”
“I’d estimate that they’re three or four hours away, if they come at full speed.”
“They’ll come at full speed, don’t worry,” said Arnol grimly. His face was a sweating mask, the bones of it standing out gauntly, as he turned to the others. “Can we be ready in time?”
“The rack-trip controls are in,” answered a technician. “It’ll take an hour or more to prepare the timers.”
Kenniston had regained a little hope, when he heard of the time limit they faced.
“Surely we can be ready in time, Arnol! I’ll start them moving out the people, at once!”
Mayor Bertram Garris was not far to seek. Round-eyed and pale with worry, the pudgy Mayor had been watching their work around the great shaft.
Kenniston ran up to him. “Get the people started out at once, to the ridge of the hills. Only the sick and old to go in cars—the rest must walk. We can’t risk a traffic tangle now!”
“Yes,” gasped the Mayor. “Yes, right away.” He caught Kenniston’s arm, looking past him at the black ovoid bulk of the bomb. As though ashamed to show the terror he felt, Garris stammered, “How much danger is there, Kenniston?”
Kenniston gave him a reassuring shake. “Don’t worry. Go along and get those people out of the city!” He wished he could find reassurance himself.
