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established."
"I don't know." The old man twisted his gnarled fingers. "Let's ask Steel-"
"Just a moment, sir!" Forester broke in. "I object very strongly to letting
the mechanicals know anything about Project Thunderbolt, because I think we
may need it against them."
"Possibly." The president shook his head uncertainly. "But I don't know what
to do."
A secret message, brought in by an excited male secretary, ended his agony of
indecision. The satellite observation stations above the atmosphere were
reporting a swarm of huge unidentified spacecraft, already within territorial
space and still approaching at enormous velocities from Sector Xanthic. The
president read the dispatch in a shaken voice, and then gasped apprehensively.
"Steel said we couldn't risk any delay." The message fluttered out of his
helpless fingers. "That must be the Triplanet fleet, already invading our
space."
"I think not, sir," Forester protested quietly. "With those detonators, our
human enemies have no more use for heavy spacecraft than we have. And I
believe the direction of Wing IV lies in Sector Xanthic." His voice shuddered.
"I believe, sir, that those ships are bringing the humanoid invasion!"
"Invasion?" The old man rubbed at his rheumy eyes, in blank bewilderment.
"Then I'll have to send for Steel-"
"Wait!" Forester broke in desperately. "Excuse me, sir, but we can still
destroy those ships with Project Thunderbolt. I would suggest that you offer
an ultimatum. This thing Steel is apparently in direct communication with all
the other humanoid units. Why not tell him to stop those ships, until we can
study these machines and their service?"
"But I'm afraid-"
"So am I," Forester whispered urgently. "That's why I want to keep the project
safe. Our missiles can smash those ships. If that isn't enough, I can modify
them to reach Wing IV. To wipe out that relay station, and stop every
mechanical unit it controls. So don't betray the project, sir!"
"I don't know." The president chewed his parchment lips, trembling with the
torture of doubt. His vague eyes went longingly to the room where the unmasked
mechanical was waiting, but at last he gasped impulsively, "All right,
Forester, we'll keep your weapon - though I know we won't need it. Go ahead
with the necessary modifications to mount three missiles against Wing IV, and
Page 31
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
keep your staff alert to launch them if anything goes wrong." His large Adam's
apple jerked nervously. "But I trust Steel!"
They went back to the outer room.
"-approaching spacecraft are our own," that small black machine was murmuring
musically. "They are sufficiently protected against any unwise attack your
primitive warcraft might make against them, but they carry no offensive
weapons. They have come from Wing IV to bring our service, if you choose to
let them land."
The Defense Authority voted a few minutes later, with the chief of staff
indignantly abstaining, to suspend the antimechanicals statutes in this
national emergency, and to open the spaceports to the craft from Wing IV.
Forester hurried away from that damp underground room, tired and alarmed and
vaguely ill, to look for a dose of bicarbonate.
Chapter TEN
THE IMPERTURBABLE mechanism which had been Major Steel dictated the sweeping
articles of a proposed agreement between the people and the humanoids, which
would become final in sixty days if ratified by a vote of the people. At noon,
with that same competent device standing by to prompt him, the old president
stood tottering before a battery of new cameras to announce the coming of the
mechanicals.
Forester had found his bicarbonate, and a hotel room. He had soaked out his
chill and his aching fatigue in a hot tub and napped for two hours, and he
awoke with his brooding unease gone. He even felt hungry again. Calling room
service, he ate while he listened to the president's broadcast.
The promised service of the humanoids was still an unknown quantity, but his
first mistrust had been swept away by relief that the decision was made, with
the terrible might of his own project still intact. Mark White's hate and fear
began to seem absurd, and he felt something of Ironsmith's bright eagerness to
see the new mechanicals.
He saw the ships from Wing IV landing that same afternoon. Returning in a
staff car to his official aircraft, he had the driver pull off the highway
where it ran near the spaceport, so that he could watch. One enormous [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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