Yes sir.’
'And then contact the Space Committee, and ask for an immediate emergency session.'
'Indeed, sir.’
The Committee meeting, as usual, ate up time. The usual stupid people, with their infinite need to ask questions, asked them. In the end, a sardonic Lane, restraining his impatience, reissued his invitation to the members to join him aboard the
Oriole
that evening. ‘Be ready for space-lift takeoff at thirty minutes notice,’ he said blandly.
By the time he returned to his office, it was a few minutes after 1.30 p.m. In entering, Lane happened to glance toward the glass enclosed conference chamber under the viewplate. He glimpsed a man sitting there and stopped in astonishment. Obviously, somebody to see him. But who could it be? Frowning, he opened the door, and entered the sound-proof room. ‘Yes?’ he asked courteously.
The other man had stood up. He was about Lane’s age and
height. He said, ‘I’m Mr Portanyi from the Outfit Training Center.’
Naturally, the whole memory burst forth at that point. Lane said, ‘Oh!’ And hesitated. It was not a good moment for the interview; that was his first reaction. Yet after a brief consideration, it occurred to him that he had actually nothing to do in connection with the emergency but await developments. His hesitation ended. ‘Sit down,’ he said.
‘After you, Commander/ was the reply.
Lane obliged. A minute after that he was listening to his first explanation of the outfits.
A normal adult (began Mr Portanyi) is a reasoning being. If he
is
normal, he easily sees that men must cooperate, be totally truthful, not take advantage, be responsible, and never do anything that will interfere with another normal person’s rights.
When an adult does not do this, it is because he got twisted in his early years. Thus, the teen period - and earlier - is decisive for the person’s whole life.
For example, it is in the preeighteen group that courage is intensely important. It is here that the term of opprobrium, ‘yellow,’ has meaning. Adults, who have this complex as a carryover in some form of supermasculinity, are teenagers emotionally. Hence, all work which requires unusual expression of the masculinity principle, should logically be done by boys under eighteen. Observation had proved that boys
and
girls were equally capable provided they were in the mixed group situation.
It followed that all police work of the simpler kind should be done by teens organised into outfits, who operate by rules. For teen boys, the bravery urge is normal, and in the girls, admiration of brave boys (and an odd, echoing bravery) is normal.
But for an adult, any obsession about masculinity is a teen-age hang-up.
Similarly, adults twisted during their own early years, can only damage children by trying to raise them. Therefore, the outfits should raise the children, according to rules which they along with the help - in emergencies - of neutral witnesses, are at the right age to do so naturally.
There is a strange look which comes into a man’s face when he discovers that the brand of courage, which he has displayed his entire lifetime, is regarded by a new theory as being a carryover from his teen-age male need to be an adult. And is not of itself an adult state.
A brick-red flush was the first signal. Then rage — and rejection of the whole line of reasoning. ‘Who should go on these space expeditions?’ Lane demanded. ‘Boys or men?’
‘
Basically, young people, girls as well as boys,’ was the unexpected reply, ‘with adult couples along to play the neutral role, and to act as creative brains at key moments, and of course to do those things that only highly trained, grown people can do.’ ‘But what is there left for adults to do?’ Lane was suddenly more bewildered than angry.
‘It is our conviction,’ said the other man smoothly, ‘that human beings, and I’m referring exclusively to normal adults when I say that - a teen being considered an embryo human, only - will eventually find their place in the universe.’
The fleet commander said quickly, ‘After eight and a half years, there must be some statistics available. By your standards, juvenile delinquency?’ He paused, uncertain.
‘Nine years ago,’ said Pontanyi, ‘thousands of rebellious youngsters passed through the hands of the juvenile authorities each year. Today, we have about two hundred kids in what are called camps. These are individuals who have resisted outfit authority, and have been turned over to us by their oufits. Other than that’ - he made a dismissing gesture - ‘there is no juvenile delinquency in Spaceport today.’
Lane stood up, He had heard enough, and in his abrupt, decisive fashion, he said coldly, ‘I’m sorry to tell you, but my impression is that the entire outfit movement borders on juvenile delinquency. So by your view you have reduced delinquency. By mine, you have expanded the delinquency situation to include the entire teen population.’ He made a dismissing gesture. ‘I really haven’t time today to consider the madness you have outlined to me. But, shortly, I’m going to give my full attention to you, your training school, and its vicious trainees.’
The other man was a little bit more pale. ‘Commander/ he said earnestly, ‘I doubt if at this stage any one person, however powerful, can stop the outfits.’-
‘We’ll see,’ said Lane curtly.
Pontanyi was recovering. He bowed politely. ‘The information I have given you, sir is the best we can do for you.’
Qn that note, the highly unsatisfactory - from Lane’s point of view - interview, ended. Mr Pontanyi departed. And Lane returned to his desk.
It was now three minutes after two o’clock.
Scott came in, waited patientiy until he had his boss’s attention, and then said, ‘Captain Mijnalen called to ask if you would have lunch with him in the Commissary.’
Lane smiled his grimmest smile at that. But this was not the day for him to discover what it felt like to eat publicly an outfit- restricted meal. ‘Tell the captain,’ he said in a deliberate tone,
‘that I’ll take a rain check on that. Can’t do it today.’
He forgot that
and
the outfits a few minutes later. Because from the giant viewplate came the second message:
‘The alien fleet is approaching the orbit of Uranus, and should reach Saturn about seven o’clock this evening. Still accelerating towards zero.’
All spaceships operated on Spaceport time. Lane said, ‘What is your present estimate of collision hour?’
‘We won’t let them get beyond Jupiter. So that could be slightly before nine.’
‘Thank you,’ said Lane.
He had barely spoken, when a certain phone rang. He stared at it, shocked. Then jerkily he picked up the receiver, and said formally, ‘Commander Lane speaking, Mr President.’
‘Commander,’ said the president’s voice, ‘do you think we should make a public announcement?’
Lane drew a deep breath for reinforcement of his spirit. Then, firmly: ‘No Mr President. All our screens are up. Our ships are between earth and the enemy. Let’s give this approach until five o’clock to see if they really mean it. The panic will be no greater then than now.’
‘Very well, Commander,’ was the reply, followed by a click of disconnection.
Lane hung up, also, and buzzed the intercom for his secretary. To that individual, he said, ‘I am now motivated by my stereotype - which you might as well find out about. In period of crisis, I try to think of everything. Even the tiniest possibilities engage my attention. So, during the next hour or so, you and I will do some fairly strange things as fast as possible.’
‘On the double, sir, it shall be,’ was the reply.
‘First,’ said the man at the desk, ‘I can’t get out of my head the fact that Jaeger, also, was subjected to the K energy. So contact the hospital, and if Mr Jaeger is still there, get them to put him on the phone.’
Jaeger had left the hospital bare minutes before, and was on his way home. ‘All right,’ commanded Lane, ‘get me Mrs Jaeger at her home.’
He asked the sad little voice if there was anything about her husband or her son that she had noticed recently that was unusual,
‘He’s
the same,’ was the apathetic reply, “but Bud is more intelligent than he used to be. Being in the outfit has been good for him.’
‘Just a moment,’ said the disgusted officer. As he handed the receiver back to Scott, he admonished, ‘Ask her to have Jaeger call
this office when he gets home.’
As 2.43 p.m., Lane wearily completed a futile conversation with his fourteenth ‘possibility
’
- the port of entry officer, who had called him about Bud Jaeger’s return to Spaceport after Bud’s attempt to ‘run away.’ Lane returned the receiver to Scott, and saw that another light was blinking on the phone multiplex. Andrew Scott pressed that button, listened for a few moments, and then said, ‘It’s Mr Reid, the Committee chairman.’
‘Ask him if I can call him back,’ said his boss in a distracted tone.
Scott spoke the words into the mouthpiece, and again listened. The shape of his mouth changed. His eyes did a narrowing. His fingers tightened on the instrument which he now held out stiffly to Lane, saying in a shaken voice, ‘You’d better talk to him, sir.’
Startled, the fleet commander accepted the instrument. Desmond Reid, at the other end of the line, stood in his office with Lee David and Mike Sutter on either side of him, and said gravely, ‘I think I should bring the boys over, and you make up your own mind as to what I’ve just told you.’
Lane said, “Let me understand this,
they
noticed something unusual about Bud Jaeger this morning?’
‘
Yes. And I think you should hear what, from them.’
The younger man said somewhat blankly, ‘By all means, bring them over.’
‘, Four minutes,’ said Desmond Reid’s voice urgently.
Lane replaced the receiver, and said to his aide Math a frown, ’Your reaction to that call seemed unusually strong. It doesn’t appear that decisive. A possibility, that’s all,’
The secretary’s eyes widened. ‘He didn’t tell you?’ he whispered. ‘What he told me,’ was the slightly nettled reply, ‘implied strange behavior in Bud Jaeger.’ .
‘What he told
me'
said Scott, ‘was that there was a possibility that
the boy was not human.’’
There was a long silence. Half-slitted eyes. Slightly sagging jaw. Then a kind of rejecting shake of the head. ‘Such an impersonation,’ Lane spoke slowly, ‘would be difficult. Still’ - he climbed to his feet - ‘no reason why we shouln’t have a good look at Bud Jaeger,’ He nodded decisively, ‘Mr Scott, have the military police arrest him, and bring him here.’
‘I’ll put out an all-points computer signal alarm,’ said Scott. ‘Good.’
As the secretary disappeared, the corridor door opened. Desmond Reid stood aside to let Lee and Mike enter. He followed hard on their heels, and closed the door behind him.
John Lane stiffened involuntarily as he looked at the two youths. All he said, however, was, ‘I have Mr Reid’s message.’ His tone was formal. ‘Please tell your story.’
The boys were not that swiftly able to be aware of the man. The room and its machinery caught their separate attentions, and held them. They stared slightly goggle-eyed at the big viewplate. Their faces proclaimed that they realised it was not a simulated scene on the huge screen, not even a motion picture duplicate. This was direct transmission, live from space.
Yet, they had their own urgent feelings, And so, swiftly, after that initial dazzlement, they were able to tell him of Bud, and of what Mike and, to a lesser degree, Lee had seen.
When their brief account was completed, there was silence in that strange, wonderful room. The fleet commander’s countenance reflected a struggle that was going on inside him. Reid watched him, narrow-eyed, and then walked close to him, and said in a low tone, ‘John, your face is showing an emotion which I find it difficult to credit: pleasure. What are you enjoying about this situation?’
The younger man was shocked. "Pleasure?’ he muttered. Abruptly, he was guilty. ‘Des,’ he almost whispered, ‘it’s true. My first thought was: “Our enemy unerringly spotted our weakness - the outfits.” I’m ashamed of myself for feeling good about how right I was about the-outfits. But it remains a truth. That’s where they achieved their infiltration,’ He broke off. ‘Look, forget about that. No matter how they did it, our problem remains.’
He raised his voice. ‘I have ordered Bud’s arrest by die military police. So I think these two boys’ - he nodded at Mike and Lee
‘should wait in my conference room, and identify Bud when he is brought in.’
It was Reid who guided the two jabbers through the door of the conference room, and then closed the door. Then he himself walked to the corridor door. He paused with one hand on the latch. ‘I’m expecting an overnight kit from home,’ he said. ‘I’ll return here as soon as it arrives.’ His fine old face creased into a faint smile. ‘I plan to go aboard the
Oriole
with you.’
The fleet commander’s face twisted satirically. ‘Dez,’ he said, ‘that’s teen-level bravado -1 was told today.’
‘But you invited the Committee members.’