Empire

'I hate to think it,” said Russ evenly. “I hate to think such a thing about a man.'

'One way to find out,” declared Greg. He rose from the chair and walked to the television control board, snapped the switch. Russ took a chair beside him. On the screen the mountains danced weirdly as the set rocketed swiftly away and then came the glint of red and yellow desert. Blackness blanked out the screen as the set plunged into the ground, passing through the curvature of the Earth's surface. The blackness passed and fields and farms were beneath them on the screen, a green and brown checkerboard with tiny white lines that were roads.

New York was in the screen now. Greg's hand moved the control and the city rushed up at them, the spires speeding toward them like plunging spears. Down into the canyons plunged the set, down into the financial district with its beetling buildings that hemmed in the roaring traffic.

Grimly, surely, Greg drove his strange machine through New York. Through buildings, through shimmering planes, through men. Like an arrow the television set sped to its mark and then Greg's hand snapped back the lever and in the screen was a building that covered four whole blocks. Above the entrance was the famous Solar System map and straddling the map were the gleaming golden letters: Interplanetary Building.

'Now we'll see,” said Greg.

He heard the whistle of the breath in Russ's nostrils as the television set began to move, saw the tight grip Russ had upon the chair arms.

The interior of the building showed on the screen as he drove the set through steel and stone, offices’ and corridors and brief glimpses of steel partitions, until it came to a door marked: Spencer Chambers, President.

Greg's hand twisted the control slightly and the set went through the door, into the office of Spencer Chambers.

Four men were in the room — Chambers himself; Craven, the scientist; Arnold Grant, head of Interplanetary's publicity department, and Harry Wilson!

Wilson's voice came out of the screen, a frantic, almost terrified voice.

'I've told you all I know. I'm not a scientist. I'm a mechanic. I've told you what they're doing. I can't tell you how they do it.'

Arnold Grant leaned forward in his chair. His face was twisted in fury.

'There were plans, weren't there?” he demanded. “There were equations and formulas. Why didn't you bring us some of them?'

Spencer Chambers raised a hand from the desk, waved it toward Grant. “The man has told us all he knows. Obviously, he can t be any more help to us.'

'You told him to go back and see if he couldn't find something else, didn't you?” asked Grant.

'Yes, I did,” Chambers told him. “But apparently he couldn't find it'

'I tried,” pleaded Wilson. Perspiration stood out on his forehead. The cigarette in his mouth was limp and dead. “One of them was always there. I never could get hold of any papers. I asked questions, but they were too busy to answer. And I couldn't ask too much, because then they would have suspected me.'

'No, you couldn't do that,” commented Craven with an open sneer.

In the laboratory Russ pounded the arm of his chair with a clenched fist. “The rat sold us out!'

Greg said nothing, but his face was stony and his eyes were crystal-hard.

On the screen Chambers was speaking to Wilson. “Do you think you could find something out if you went back again?'

Wilson squirmed in his chair.

'I'd rather not.” His voice sounded like a whimper. “I'm afraid they suspect me now. I'm afraid of what they'd do if they found out.'

'That's his conscience,” breathed Russ in the laboratory. “I never suspected him.'

'He's right about one thing, though,” Greg said. “He'd better not come back.'

Chambers was talking again: “You realize, of course, that you haven't been much help to us. You have only warned us that another kind of power generation is being developed. You've set us on our guard, but other than that we're no better off than we were before.'

Wilson bristled, like a cowardly animal backed into a corner. “I told you what was going on. You can be ready for it now. I can' t help it if I couldn't find out how all them things worked.'

'Look here,” said Chambers. “I made a bargain with you and I keep my bargains. I told you I would pay you twenty thousand dollars for the information you gave me when you first came to see me. I told you I'd pay you for any further additional information you might give. Also I promised you a job with the company.'

Watching the financier, Wilson licked his lips. “That's right,” he said.

Chambers reached out and pulled a checkbook toward him, lifted a pen from its holder. “I'm paying you the twenty thousand for the warning. I'm not paying you a dime more, because you gave me no other information.'

Wilson leaped to his feet, started to protest.

'Sit down,” said Chambers coldly.

'But the job! You said you'd give me a job!'

Chambers shook his head. “I wouldn't have a man like you in my organization. If you were a traitor to one man, you would be to another.'

'But… but…” Wilson started to object and then sat down, his face twisted in something that came very close to fear.

Chambers ripped the check out of the book, waved it slowly in the air to dry it. Then he arose and held it out to Wilson, who reached out a trembling hand and took it.

'And now,” said Chambers, “good day, Mr. Wilson.'

For a moment Wilson stood uncertain, as if he intended to speak, but finally he turned, without a word, and walked through the door.

IN the laboratory Russ and Greg looked at one another.

'Twenty thousand,” said Greg. “Why, that was worth millions.'

'It was worth everything Chambers had,” said Russ, “because it's the thing that's going to wreck him.” Their attention snapped back to the screen.

Chambers was hunched over his desk, addressing the other two.

'Now, gentlemen,” he asked, “what are we to do?'

Craven shrugged his shoulders. There was a puzzled frown in the eyes back of the thick-lensed glasses. “We haven't much to go on. Wilson doesn't know a thing about it. He hasn't the brain to grasp even the most fundamental ideas back of the whole thing.'

Chambers nodded. “The man knew the mechanical setup perfectly, but that was all.'

'I've constructed the apparatus,” said Craven. “It's astoundingly simple. Almost too simple to do the things Wilson said it would do. He drew plans for it, so clear that it was easy to duplicate the apparatus. He himself checked the machine and says it is the same as Page and Manning have. But there are thousands of possible combinations for hookups and control board settings. Too many to try to go through and hit upon the right answer. Because, you see, one slight adjustment in any one of a hundred adjustments might do the trick… but which of those adjustments do you have to make? We have to have the formulas, the equations, before we can even move.'

'He seemed to remember a few things,” said Grant hopefully. “Certain rules and formulas.'

Craven flipped both his hands angrily. “Worse than nothing,” he exploded. “What Page and Manning have done is so far in advance of anything that anyone else has even thought about that we are completely at sea. They're working with space fields, apparently, and we haven't even scratched the surface in that branch of investigation. We simply haven't got a thing to go on.'

'NO chance at all?” asked Chambers.

Craven shook his head slowly.

'At least you could try,” snapped Grant.

'Now, wait,” Chambers snapped back. “You seem to forget Dr. Craven is one of the best scientists in the world today. I'm relying on him.'

Craven smiled. “I can't do anything with what Page and Manning have, but I might try something of my own.'

'By all means do so,” urged Chambers. He turned to Grant. “I observed you have carried out the plans we laid. Martian Irrigation hit a new low today.'