Escape from the Planet of the Apes - Pournelle Jerry - Страница 9
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Brody glanced at his notes. “There have been no major modifications of the capsule. We have no clue as to what launched it a second time, but there are definite indications that it was previously landed. The few traces of soil and other materials contaminating the capsule are confusing and their source has not been identified. Meanwhile, we have no notion of the source of these apes, nor of the fate of Colonel Taylor and his crew.”
“Someone interfered with the mission,” Victor Hasslein said thoughtfully.
“You state that as a scientific conclusion, Victor?” the president asked.
“I state it as an obvious conclusion, Mister President. We lost track of the Taylor capsule, but it was certainly not headed for re-entry at the time it vanished from the screens. Now it reappears, dramatically, and with no previous trace, so that SAC is alerted. And inside are—chimpanzees. Inhabitants of earth, with untraceable clothing. Even the mud stains make no scientific sense. It is fairly obvious that these chimpanzees did not force Colonel Taylor to land, nor did they remove him from his ship, adapt his clothing to themselves, and re-launch. Of course someone has interfered with our mission. The only question is who.”
“Russians,” the Air Force deputy said. He said it firmly. Navy nodded.
“You don’t know that, gentlemen,” the president said carefully. “What if the Soviets are as curious as we? And as mystified?”
“You’ve asked them?” the Army demanded. He gulped. “Sir?”
The president smiled. “General, if they were involved, they’d know, wouldn’t they?”
“Huh? Yes, sir—”
“And if they weren’t, why not ask them?” the president continued. “I’m in favor of security when it can help us, but it can be carried too far. In fact, I see no threat to our national security from releasing this story to the whole world. Can any of you give me a good reason why I shouldn’t?”
“Only that the press can often interfere with a scientific investigation,” Hasslein said carefully. “And surely, Mister President, such an investigation is required? I assume we do want to know what happened to our astronauts?”
The service representatives nodded vigorously. “Damn right,” the Air Force man said. He slammed his fist against the table. “Taylor was a good man, and he was our man. By God we’ll find out what happened to him!” The others murmured approval.
It is obvious what they are thinking, the president said to himself. They are good men, but not rational when it comes to something like this. Taylor was their man. They were prepared to have him killed in action against an enemy, or lost in a scientific experiment, but not to something mysterious at the hands of an unknown enemy.
I can’t even disagree very strongly. Besides, I want to know what happened myself. Possibly not for the same reasons that they do, but I want to know. “We’ll make a thorough inquiry,” the president assured them. “Dr. Hasslein, I’ll ask you to submit to me a list of persons who ought to be on a commission of inquiry. A Presidential Commission. Scientists, and at least two members of Congress—one from the Armed Forces Committee. I think the Joint Chiefs can give you a recommendation there.”
“A Presidential Commission,” Hasslein said. “Yes, sir.”
“You are less than enthusiastic. What better way to handle it?”
“The National Security Agency—”
“No,” the president said firmly. “I have great confidence in the NSA people, but this is far beyond their talents. I want some really top scientific talent on this, Dr. Hasslein. The implications of this event are astonishing to begin with. Particularly the last report from that UCLA chap. He implies that these apes can talk!”
Everyone looked up at the president. Hasslein snorted.
“All right, I don’t believe it myself,” the president assured them. “But I want you to look into this personally, Victor. Have the two surviving apes examined by the Commission. Meanwhile they will remain in the technical custody of the Navy, and under the supervision of that UCLA chap, uh, Dixon. Victor, Dr. Dixon should be a member of the Commission; see to it, will you? And help Monty write up the White House press release on all this. The news people are going to find this very interesting, I think.”
Interesting, Hasslein thought. He sat in his quarters in the Western White House and watched the TV newscasts. There were five TV sets in his room, and among them he could get nearly any nation’s broadcasts. He watched BBC now.
A thin, pasty-faced chap with a flower in his buttonhole and orange piping on the lapels of his Seville Row suit was trying not to smile as he read copy.
“One of two Yank spacecraft, both previously thought to have disintegrated in orbit, has mysteriously reappeared. According to American sources, this craft—”
The voice broke off and the man vanished. A shot of Taylor’s lifting-body ship appeared on the screen. “—landed in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Southern California yesterday afternoon. It is stated in the American dispatches that the spacecraft was manned—” the young man came back on screen and curled his lip—“by monkeys.”
Victor angrily changed channels. It was worse in other countries. The “silly season,” too early for baseball news, too hot for anything else; and the newsmen were having a field day. They mocked science itself, and the thought made Hasslein furious. What responsibilities did those chattering magpies ever have? They didn’t have to know anything, they could simply blame him and his colleagues for not knowing.
The local Los Angeles station was worst of all. A long-haired newscaster broke up as he read the copy. “U.S. LOST SPACECRAFT HIJACKED BY APE-ONAUTS!”
Hasslein angrily switched off the sets and stared at the blank screens in silence. “We’ll soon find out what really happened,” he muttered. “And when we do, maybe I can cram it down your laughing throats.”
And yet, he thought, what was the president being coy about? He lifted the telephone. “General Brody, please.”
The White House operator took only moments to connect him.
“Yes, Dr. Hasslein?” Brody said.
“General, what was the report the president didn’t discuss with us? The one he said he didn’t believe himself?”
“If the boss wouldn’t tell you, do you think I will?” Brody said. “Sorry, Dr. Hasslein, but I’ve got my responsibility to the president.”
“Certainly. However, you realize I will find out shortly. I do not like to be—unprepared. I can make my own inquiries at UCLA, but I prefer that you spare me that effort.”
“Hmm.” The phone was quiet for a long period. Finally Brody spoke into the silence. “I’ll tell you this much, doctor. Those apes may be far more intelligent than we thought. That’s all I’ll say.”
“All right.”
“Anything else? Brody out.” The phone went dead.
Victor Hasslein stretched his long thin arm across the room to return the phone to its cradle. He smiled faintly; the action of his arm resembled that of a machine, as did all his precise gestures. Newsmen sometimes called him that, the human computer, and Victor didn’t despise the title; at least they said human. When he was a boy, he had read story after story about computers taking over earth and making mankind useless. He took them seriously, and he had specialized in science; first in computers, then, when he realized that there was something far more basic, in solid-state physics. He knew what made computers tick. He knew how to program them, and how to destroy them. They would not become man’s masters, not so long as men like Victor Hasslein existed.
But it would take work, he knew. Hard work. It would be very simple to allow the machines to design new machines, to let things become so complex that no human understood them; and then? But he understood them now, and he had the most powerful position of any scientist in the world. He guarded the fortress of civilization: for man.
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