Wine of the Dreamers (17 page)

Leedry pursed his dry lips. “Then, Dr. Lane, you would have us believe that someone went into that … that searing hell of radiation and sabotaged the ship?”

Bard returned to his chair. “I can see no other answer. After five seconds by the open port to the storage section, there would be not the slightest hope of living more than twenty minutes no matter what medical attention was given. The person sacrificed his life. There were twelve technicians on the ship at the time, along with twelve guards watching them under a new security bulletin I issued four days before the accident. Evidently the saboteur overpowered his guard. The elevator operator and two laborers too close to the ship perished, bringing the total death toll in the takeoff to twenty-seven. A large section of the burning camouflage cover fell on a typist from the accounting office. She died yesterday of her burns. So the total is twenty-eight.”

General Sachson went over to Leedry, bent down and whispered in his ear. Leedry did not change expression. He said, “Dr. Lane, would you please move over to the other table for a few minutes. Dr. Inly, will you please come forward.”

Leedry let the seconds mount up. Sharan concealed the thud of her pulse, the sick nervousness that gave her mouth a metallic taste.

“Dr. Inly, you have previously testified as to your duties
and the operating regulations which have covered those duties. As I understand your regulations, once you have committed any project employee for detailed observation, the minimum length of time in hospital is seven days. Yet, according to your records, we find that Dr. Lane was sent in for observation and released after only three days. I trust you have some explanation of this deviation from your stated regulations.”

There was a buzz of conversation in the room. The chairman of the investigating committee rapped for order.

Sharan bit her lip.

“Come, Dr. Inly. Surely you know why you ordered Dr. Lane’s release!”

“I discovered that … the evidence on which I had committed Dr. Lane was not what … I had first thought.”

“Is it true that you have been very friendly with Dr. Lane? Is it not true that you have often been alone together? Is it not true that there was a very strong rumor among the project employees that your relationship was—shall we say—a bit closer than a normal professional relationship would indicate?” Leedry leaned forward in his chair, as intent as a questing hawk.

“I resent your implication, Senator.”

“Merely answer the questions, Dr. Inly.”

“Dr. Lane is my very good friend. Nothing more. We were often together and we often discussed what courses of action would be best for the project.”

“Indeed?” Leedry asked.

Bard stood up. “Senator, I consider this line of investigation as wholesome as scribbling on a lavatory wall.”

“You’re out of order!” the chairman snapped. “Sit down, please.”

“Take the stand again, Dr. Lane,” Leedry said. “We will need you again in a few moments, Dr. Inly.”

Bard took the stand. Leedry again waited for his fellow committee members to stop their whispers. “Dr. Inly is quite attractive, don’t you think?” he asked Bard in a jovial manner.

“She is a competent psycholgist,” Bard said.

“Ah, undoubtedly. Now then, Dr. Lane. Yesterday we took testimony from one of the hospital supervisors. Can you explain how it was that you were seen in the hospital making love to a young nurse named Anderson?”

“May I ask what you are trying to prove?” Bard asked. His voice was low.

“I’ll be glad to tell you, Dr. Lane. I can best tell you by asking you one more question. Dr. Lane, you are quite a famous man, you know. You are quite young for the enormous responsibilities which were given you. You have spent a trifle more than one billion dollars of the taxpayers’ money. Money that came from a great number of little people who work hard for a living. Surely you felt the weight of that responsibility. Now answer me this question, Dr. Lane. During the period of time since you permitted one William Kornal to return to his duties after having smashed key control equipment, have you at any time sincerely felt that you are and have been unsuited for the responsibilities which were given you?”

Bard Lane doubled his big brown fists. He glanced at Sharan Inly and saw that her eyes were misty. “Yes, I have.”

“And yet you did not ask to be relieved?”

“No, sir.”

“Dismissed. Wait in the anteroom. Please take the stand, Major Leeber. I understand that you have been in the position of an observer ever since the Kornal incident.”

“That is correct.” Major Leeber sat very straight in his chair. Each bit of brass on his uniform was a tiny golden mirror. His voice had lost the lazy tone. It was crisp. His mouth was a firm line.

“Will you give us your opinion of the quality of Dr. Lane’s management?”

“I can best do that by giving the committee a verbatim quote from a report I sent to General Sachson, my commanding officer, three days before the ‘accident’ occurred. I am quoting paragraph three of my report. ‘It appears
that Dr. Lane is best suited to perform supervised technical work in the research field and that he has neither the temperament nor the training for administrative work that is required of the head of a project such as this one. The informality here is indicative of a lack of discipline. Dr. Lane goes to ridiculous lengths in his new security regulations, detailed above, yet permits fraternization between high-level personnel and CAF-two typists on the clerical staff. The undersigned officer strongly recommends that every attempt be made to bring this situation to the attention of those persons in Washington who are in a position to direct a full scale investigation of the project.’ ”

Leedry turned to Sachson. “General, don’t bother taking the stand. Just tell us what you did with the major’s report.”

“I endorsed it, stating my approval of Leeber’s conclusions and sent it by courier officer through the Chief of Ordnance to the Commanding General, Armed Forces. I assumed that it would be taken up with the Secretary of Defense.”

The Secretary of Defense rumbled, “It was on my desk for my personal attention when the flash came that the Beatty One had taken off prematurely. I compliment the General and Major Leeber on their handling of this matter. I shall see that it is made a matter of record for their two-oh-one files.”

Sharan Inly laughed. The sound was out of place in the room. The laugh was as chill as the tinkling of crystal. “Gentlemen, you amuse me. The Army has resented Project Tempo from the beginning. The Army feels that space travel attempts are absurd unless carried on in an atmosphere of company formations, service ribbons and seventh endorsements. Dr. Lane is caught in the middle and he’ll be disgraced. The sad truth is that he has more integrity in his little finger than Major Leeber is even capable of visualizing.” She turned to Leeber and said mildly, “You really are a rather despicable little man, you know. Gentlemen, this whole affair makes me sick at heart and rather close to being ill in quite another manner.
I am leaving and you can cite me for contempt or restrain me physically. I imagine the latter will be more your style. So nice to have known you.”

She brushed by the sergeant at arms at the door. It closed gently behind her.

“Let her go,” Leedry said. “I rather imagine that she’ll have a long, long wait before Civil Service is able to place her in another government position. And she just told us all we need to know. Her infatuation with Lane, and the effect of that infatuation on her judgment is now a matter of record. I suggest that we consider arriving at a conclusion. My personal opinion is that Project Tempo failed due to the gross negligence and mental instability of Dr. Bard Lane. We should clear out the witnesses and poll the committee.”

General Sachson, as he stood up, said, “If I could have the privilege of making one comment, Senator.”

“Of course, General,” Leedry said warmly.

“You will find in my record that two years ago when Project Tempo was being considered, I read the survey reports and filed a negative opinion. That girl—I should say Dr. Inly—inferred that the military has attempted to block Project Tempo. I wish to deny that allegation. I am a soldier. I follow orders. Once Project Tempo was approved, I gave it my wholehearted cooperation. The minutes of my staff meetings in connection with Tempo are available as proof of this cooperation.

“However, in all honesty, I must confess that from the beginning I considered Tempo to be a wild scheme. I believe that with persistence, with the application of discipline and effort, we will succeed in conquering space in accordance with the plan outlined by General Roamer sixteen years ago. First we must beef up our moon base. The moon is the stepping stone to Mars and Venus. Gentlemen, it is sound military thought to consolidate your own area before advancing further. Project Tempo put the cart several miles ahead of the horse. The old ways are the best. The known methods are tried, and they will be true.

“Is this time-jump theory something you can see, feel, hold on to? No. It is a theory. I personally do not believe that there is any variation. I think time is a constant throughout all the galaxies and all the universe. Lane was a dreamer. I am a doer. You know my record. I do not want this fiasco to make you turn your backs on space flight. We need a vastly augmented moon base. From a moon base we can look down the throat of Pan-Asia. We must reinforce that base, and not dissipate our efforts in humoring the more lunatic fringe of our nation’s physicists. Thank you, gentlemen.”

Leedry led the round of polite but enthusiastic applause. Major Leeber rose quickly to his feet and clapped with the rest.

TWELVE

For an uncounted number of days, Raul Kinson sat in one of the rooms of learning, alone, many levels above the rest of the Watchers. Infrequently he went down to pick at the food on one of the trays. Once Leesa found him. He did not look at her, or hear what she said. He was vaguely aware of her presence and felt a mild distant relief when she went away.

Over and over and over again he saw, as he had seen it through Bard Lane’s eyes, the roaring ruin of the Beatty One, the ruin of his hopes, the clear cue to treachery. He wanted Leesa’s throat between his fingers, yet knew that he could not kill her.

He did not dream. He did not wish to project himself back to Earth. He had been ashamed of the Watchers before. This was a new shame, more intense than ever before. And slowly he came back to life. Hour by hour. On Earth there had been one ship. Here there were six. Would
a man die outside the building? If a man could live, could find his way into one of the six ships …

He knew where the door was. If he died outside the building, it did not matter.

He went down to the lowest level, hurried by the throb of the power rooms, glancing often over his shoulder. He made certain that he was not followed. The rooms that lined the corridor leading to the door contained things that the others no longer understood. Odd garments. Tools. Undisturbed for centuries.

At last he came to the door. The top of it was on a level with his eyes. Two spoked wheels projected from the door itself. He touched one. It turned easily. He spun it hard. It spun without sound, stopped with a soft click. He did the same with the other one. He glanced back up the corridor, then grasped both wheels. His breath came deep and hard and excitement fluttered along his spine. He pulled slowly. The door opened. He knew of wind and coldness, but always he had felt them in an alien body and now he knew that such sensations had been muted. The wind was a dull knife scraping his flesh and sand, heaped against the door, trickled in onto the corridor floor. He knew that he could not stand such cold. The sand prevented him from closing the door again. He dropped to his knees and shoveled the sand back out with his hands. At last he could close the door. As he leaned against it he began to stop shaking as the warmth seeped back into his body. It seemed incredible that beyond the door there was not another corridor, equally warm.

He found the garments in the third room. They were metallic, dark green. The inner lining was soft. He found a large one, put it on awkwardly. It felt strange against his legs, heavy. The fastening was difficult until he discovered that the two strips of metal down the front would cling together firmly of their own accord.

Thus clad against the cold, it was only as he returned to the door the second time that he thought of a more obvious danger. When shut the door would remain closed until he pushed against it from the outside. But if Jord
Orlan or any one of the old ones should be following him, should come and spin the wheels—–

“Raul!” she said, close behind him. It startled him badly. He turned and stared at Leesa, then turned his back to her.

“Raul, you must listen to me. You must!”

“There is nothing you can say to me.”

“I know what you think of me. I betrayed you, Raul. I gave you my word and betrayed you. You know that I smashed that ship.” She laughed in a strange and brittle way. “But you see, I didn’t realize that I was betraying myself too.”

He did not turn. He stood stolidly, staring at the burnished metal of the door.

“I have dreamed many times, Raul, trying to find him. I have found Sharan Inly. I told her what I had done. She hated me, Raul. And after a long time I made her understand. She is … kind, Raul. But she cannot find him. No one knows where he has gone. And I must find him and tell him … why I did that to him.”

Behind him he heard an odd sound. A small sound. He turned. She had dropped to her knees, and sat on her heels, shoulders slumped, face in her hands.

“Never before have I seen you weep, Leesa.”

“Help me find him, Raul. Please help me.”

“I want you to find him, Leesa. I want you to see, in his mind, precisely what you did to him.”

“I know what I did to him. I was in his mind once, Raul, after it happened,” she said, lifting her tear-tracked face. “It was … horrid.”

“How can that be, Leesa? Remember? They are only dream creatures. They don’t exist. The machines are clever. The dream machines manufactured Bard Lane for your special amusement.”