in Charles’ mind. He said tightly to Dinkuhl :
“What are we going to do?”
Dinkuhl looked at him. “You’re the H-bomb. The way I see it, you can do one of three things. You can go back and get on with the job for your new employers.
I see it, you can do one of three things. You can go back and refuse to get on with the job. I don’t advise that. Ledbetter has plenty on the ball, and he’s playing for big stakes, remember.”
The confusion returned. Charles said:
“Ledbetter toes UC. How does he come to be working for Telecom. I just don’t get it.”
“Sancta simplicitas ,” Dinkuhl commented. “You wouldn’t get it. I know a little about Ledbetter. He had a tough start—a background that would have been damn bad even in previous centuries. Both parents drunkards and fighting. He was a bright lad. He fought his way up to the top. But the top goes right up to the sky for that kind of climber. And managerial loyalty is only skin-deep, if that. No, George isn’t the kind of playmate I recommend for you.”
“The third thing. What was that?”
Dinkuhl eyed him steadily. “Escape.”
Charles looked around. Through the trees the barrier fence was visible, rising to perhaps ten feet.
He said: “Easy. Which way do we do it? I throw you over first, and then you throw me over?”
Dinkuhl smiled. He consulted his wrist-watch again. “The time approacheth . Leave it to your Uncle Hiram.” “I’d prefer to have some idea of what you propose.” Dinkuhl took his arm. “We’re going to borrow a gyro. There isn’t time to explain everything right now. Down to the sentry-box. We’ve got a friend in the camp, though he doesn’t know it yet.” Dinkuhl had begun to walk down the wooded slope toward the gate, and Charles, automatically responding to the pressure on his arm, walked with him. “I told you—I never forget a face.” Charles could see the gate now, and the upright figure of the guard inside his plaspex bubble. Dinkuhl went on talking, in a slow drawl that might be concealing nervousness.
“I’ve had enough time thinking about this. It should go O.K. I thought maybe it would be rushing things to try it this morning, but my principle is that it’s always safer to act at once, unless you can act sooner. If not now, we would have had to leave it till tomorrow afternoon. That’s when our friend is on guard again.”
They were approaching the sentry-box. Charles could see the tall immobile figure through the plaspex ; he looked a very ordinary character, in UC uniform, with the UC badges. His eyes were fixed coldly on them as they approached.
“That was another thing,” Dinkuhl said. “When I saw him before, he was wearing a Telecom badge. Though since his activities on that occasion would properly be classed as subversive, that wasn’t conclusive in any way.”
Dinkuhl tapped on the plaspex . The guard unseamed his sentry-box and came out toward them; he had his Klaberg at the ready and was wearing the nose filter against astarate —presumably the Klaberg was fitted with an astarate release.
He said, his voice midway between deference and challenge:
“Anything I can do for you?”
Dinkuhl looked at him for a moment. When he spoke it was with the full resonance of voice that he could muster up when he wanted to. He said:
“Brother, are you damned?”
The guard only looked surprised for a moment. When he spoke it was in a liturgical tone of voice matching Dinkuhl’s own:
“Damned to Hell. Brethren, are ye damned?”
“Damned to Hell.” Dinkuhl jerked his head toward Charles. “In this brother’s mind, the Lord has planted power and a sword. He must be free to serve the Lord whose Finger lights the sky to destruction.”
The guard inclined his head. ‘To the Damned all gates are open.”
Dinkuhl looked at the gate—a little wistfully, Charles thought. It was a temptation simply to get out and trust to luck after that. Dinkuhl said slowly:
“We need a gyro, brother.
“What are we going to do?”
Dinkuhl looked at him. “You’re the H-bomb. The way I see it, you can do one of three things. You can go back and get on with the job for your new employers.
I see it, you can do one of three things. You can go back and refuse to get on with the job. I don’t advise that. Ledbetter has plenty on the ball, and he’s playing for big stakes, remember.”
The confusion returned. Charles said:
“Ledbetter toes UC. How does he come to be working for Telecom. I just don’t get it.”
“Sancta simplicitas ,” Dinkuhl commented. “You wouldn’t get it. I know a little about Ledbetter. He had a tough start—a background that would have been damn bad even in previous centuries. Both parents drunkards and fighting. He was a bright lad. He fought his way up to the top. But the top goes right up to the sky for that kind of climber. And managerial loyalty is only skin-deep, if that. No, George isn’t the kind of playmate I recommend for you.”
“The third thing. What was that?”
Dinkuhl eyed him steadily. “Escape.”
Charles looked around. Through the trees the barrier fence was visible, rising to perhaps ten feet.
He said: “Easy. Which way do we do it? I throw you over first, and then you throw me over?”
Dinkuhl smiled. He consulted his wrist-watch again. “The time approacheth . Leave it to your Uncle Hiram.” “I’d prefer to have some idea of what you propose.” Dinkuhl took his arm. “We’re going to borrow a gyro. There isn’t time to explain everything right now. Down to the sentry-box. We’ve got a friend in the camp, though he doesn’t know it yet.” Dinkuhl had begun to walk down the wooded slope toward the gate, and Charles, automatically responding to the pressure on his arm, walked with him. “I told you—I never forget a face.” Charles could see the gate now, and the upright figure of the guard inside his plaspex bubble. Dinkuhl went on talking, in a slow drawl that might be concealing nervousness.
“I’ve had enough time thinking about this. It should go O.K. I thought maybe it would be rushing things to try it this morning, but my principle is that it’s always safer to act at once, unless you can act sooner. If not now, we would have had to leave it till tomorrow afternoon. That’s when our friend is on guard again.”
They were approaching the sentry-box. Charles could see the tall immobile figure through the plaspex ; he looked a very ordinary character, in UC uniform, with the UC badges. His eyes were fixed coldly on them as they approached.
“That was another thing,” Dinkuhl said. “When I saw him before, he was wearing a Telecom badge. Though since his activities on that occasion would properly be classed as subversive, that wasn’t conclusive in any way.”
Dinkuhl tapped on the plaspex . The guard unseamed his sentry-box and came out toward them; he had his Klaberg at the ready and was wearing the nose filter against astarate —presumably the Klaberg was fitted with an astarate release.
He said, his voice midway between deference and challenge:
“Anything I can do for you?”
Dinkuhl looked at him for a moment. When he spoke it was with the full resonance of voice that he could muster up when he wanted to. He said:
“Brother, are you damned?”
The guard only looked surprised for a moment. When he spoke it was in a liturgical tone of voice matching Dinkuhl’s own:
“Damned to Hell. Brethren, are ye damned?”
“Damned to Hell.” Dinkuhl jerked his head toward Charles. “In this brother’s mind, the Lord has planted power and a sword. He must be free to serve the Lord whose Finger lights the sky to destruction.”
The guard inclined his head. ‘To the Damned all gates are open.”
Dinkuhl looked at the gate—a little wistfully, Charles thought. It was a temptation simply to get out and trust to luck after that. Dinkuhl said slowly:
“We need a gyro, brother.
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