that even if some other conference should come up with an answer, it would remain unknown until news of it came in from someone who had personally brought the news. Therefore the highest hopes are that the Conference here will produce a solution. The arrival a few minutes ago of Admiral Harriman Nelson may provide a turning point. We shall of course bring you the proceedings at the Assembly Building when he begins to speak. In the mean time, we shall show more film of the catastrophe. In India—”
Susan Hiller cut the sound. “I thought for a moment some of that was direct. I hadn’t realized things were so bad.”
“We haven’t been able to get through for days, even by tightbeam,” said Crane gravely. “Oh my God . . . how can there be a country without communications? Banking—railroads—”
“No schools, no . . . oh, there’ll be food riots . . .”
“And even if an answer is found—how will anyone know?”
They looked at each other, appalled. Presently Crane shook himself and said grimly, “If only the Admiral’s right.”
“About what?”
Crane glanced at the TV screen and then back at the psychiatrist. “Theoretically I’m not supposed to say anything about this yet, but you’ll hear it in a moment anyway. Admiral Nelson has a plan to disperse the outer Van Allen belt and release the polarized particles which make a great big lens out of it. If he’s right—and if he’s successful—the news will get around all right. The firebelt will simply collapse— foosh! —it just won’t be there any more. I don’t think you could get the news around any quicker than that.”
“You don’t know that he’s right.”
“I’m not Harriman Nelson,” said the Captain. “One thing I do know: he says he’s right. And that’s quite enough for me.”
“I like your attitude, Captain. All the loyalty in the world, and all the respect for truth in the world, and I’m in no doubt as to which way you’d jump if you had to choose between them.”
“Nelson and the truth are old friends and close companions. They roomed together in kindergarten,” smiled the Captain. “It’s a choice I won’t have to make. But—why do you say I’d choose the truth—if that’s what you said?”
“It’s what I implied,” smiled Dr. Hiller, “and only because you said ‘ If only the Admiral’s right.’ Your fiancée feels the same way, but without the if.”
“Oh, here’s Nelson’s speech,” said the Captain. The doctor quickly turned up the gain. Crane said, “If you’ll excuse me, Doctor, I’ll go forward now. I want to see to it that the crew hear this. Then we’ll have a lot of sorting out to do. Some of the boys have to have furloughs—most want ‘em. And there’s your man Alvarez to make arrangements for.”
“My man Alvarez?”
“What’s wrong with that joker is strictly in your department. No man in his right mind lies flat on his . . . bunk . . . letting things happen to him and saying it’s the will of God.”
“He might disagree with you, Captain.”
“He’s hardly an expert.”
“He’s an expert on what Alvarez believes in.”
“I haven’t time to argue the point with you, Doctor. All I know for sure is that he gives me the creeps and I’m glad he’s going over the wall. Here’s the Admiral.”
Nelson’s great stone face appeared on the screen, quietly waiting for a storm of applause to die down. The Captain waved cheerfully and went forward.
In the wardroom most of the enlisted men were sprawled around and over the tables watching the large screen there. Crane wagged a negative finger at young Smith as the kid saw him and was about to call for attention, and passed quietly behind the listening sailors to the forward corridor. Nelson’s voice was on the intercom as well as the TV sound systems, and echoed about him, sometimes near, sometimes distant as he walked, but always there, everywhere. His voice describing his project filled his submarine from frame
Susan Hiller cut the sound. “I thought for a moment some of that was direct. I hadn’t realized things were so bad.”
“We haven’t been able to get through for days, even by tightbeam,” said Crane gravely. “Oh my God . . . how can there be a country without communications? Banking—railroads—”
“No schools, no . . . oh, there’ll be food riots . . .”
“And even if an answer is found—how will anyone know?”
They looked at each other, appalled. Presently Crane shook himself and said grimly, “If only the Admiral’s right.”
“About what?”
Crane glanced at the TV screen and then back at the psychiatrist. “Theoretically I’m not supposed to say anything about this yet, but you’ll hear it in a moment anyway. Admiral Nelson has a plan to disperse the outer Van Allen belt and release the polarized particles which make a great big lens out of it. If he’s right—and if he’s successful—the news will get around all right. The firebelt will simply collapse— foosh! —it just won’t be there any more. I don’t think you could get the news around any quicker than that.”
“You don’t know that he’s right.”
“I’m not Harriman Nelson,” said the Captain. “One thing I do know: he says he’s right. And that’s quite enough for me.”
“I like your attitude, Captain. All the loyalty in the world, and all the respect for truth in the world, and I’m in no doubt as to which way you’d jump if you had to choose between them.”
“Nelson and the truth are old friends and close companions. They roomed together in kindergarten,” smiled the Captain. “It’s a choice I won’t have to make. But—why do you say I’d choose the truth—if that’s what you said?”
“It’s what I implied,” smiled Dr. Hiller, “and only because you said ‘ If only the Admiral’s right.’ Your fiancée feels the same way, but without the if.”
“Oh, here’s Nelson’s speech,” said the Captain. The doctor quickly turned up the gain. Crane said, “If you’ll excuse me, Doctor, I’ll go forward now. I want to see to it that the crew hear this. Then we’ll have a lot of sorting out to do. Some of the boys have to have furloughs—most want ‘em. And there’s your man Alvarez to make arrangements for.”
“My man Alvarez?”
“What’s wrong with that joker is strictly in your department. No man in his right mind lies flat on his . . . bunk . . . letting things happen to him and saying it’s the will of God.”
“He might disagree with you, Captain.”
“He’s hardly an expert.”
“He’s an expert on what Alvarez believes in.”
“I haven’t time to argue the point with you, Doctor. All I know for sure is that he gives me the creeps and I’m glad he’s going over the wall. Here’s the Admiral.”
Nelson’s great stone face appeared on the screen, quietly waiting for a storm of applause to die down. The Captain waved cheerfully and went forward.
In the wardroom most of the enlisted men were sprawled around and over the tables watching the large screen there. Crane wagged a negative finger at young Smith as the kid saw him and was about to call for attention, and passed quietly behind the listening sailors to the forward corridor. Nelson’s voice was on the intercom as well as the TV sound systems, and echoed about him, sometimes near, sometimes distant as he walked, but always there, everywhere. His voice describing his project filled his submarine from frame
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