Hulser took a deep breath. This is a chemist, he thought. Maybe I can convince him. He looked up at Page, began explaining.
Presently, the colonel interrupted. “But it takes enormous amounts of energy to change the atomic—”
“I’m not talking about changing atomic structure in that sense, sir. Don’t you see it? I merely set up an artificial condition as though a catalyst were present. A pseudo-catalyst. And this brings out of the static mixture substances that are already there: Ionized hydrogen from moisture—fluorine from the actual components in the case of Trinox. White phosphorus from Ditrate, Nitric oxide and rhombic sulfur from common gunpowder.”
Page wet his lips with his tongue. “But what makes you think that—in a nonorganic system—the presence of the pseudo-catalyst—” He shook his head. “Of course! How stupid of me! You’d first get a polar reaction—just as I did with pseudo-lithium. And that would be the first step into—” His eyes widened and he stared at Hulser. “My dear boy, I believe you’ve opened an entirely new field in nonorganic chemistry!”
“Do you see it, sir?”
“Of course I see it!” Page got to his feet. “You’d be creating an artificial radical with unstable perimeter. The presence of the slightest bit of moisture in that perimeter would give you your ionized hydrogen and—” He clapped his hands like a small boy in glee. “Kapowie!”
Hulser smiled.
Page looked down at him. “Corporal, I do believe your projector might work. I confess that I don’t understand about field lattices and these other electronic matters, but you apparently do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How did you ever stumble onto this?” asked Page.
“I was thinking about the lattice effect in our Life Detector systems—when suddenly, there it was: the complete idea!”
Page nodded. “It was one of those things that had to remain dormant until the precisely proper set of circumstances.” Page squeezed past Hulser’s knees. “No, no. Stay right there. I’m going to set up a meeting with Colonel Allenby of the L-D section, and I’ll get in someone with more of a mechanical bent—probably Captain Stevens.” He nodded. “Now, corporal, you just stay right here until—” His glance darted around the cell, and he laughed nervously. “Don’t you worry, young man. We’ll have you out of here in a few hours.”
* * *
Hulser was to look back on the five weeks of the first phase in “Operation Big Boom” as a time of hectic unreality. Corps ordered the project developed in General Savage’s reserve area after a set of preliminary plans had been shipped outside. The thinking was that there’d be less chance of a security leak that close to a combat zone, and that the vast barrens of the reserve area offered better opportunity for a site free of things that could detonate mysteriously and lead to unwanted questions.
But Corps was taking no chances. They ringed the area with special detachments of MPs. Recording specialists moved in on the project, copied everything for shipment stateside.
They chose an open tableland well away from their own munitions for the crucial test. It was a barren, windy place: gray rocks poking up from frozen earth. The long black worm of a power cable stretched away into the distance behind the test shelter.
A weasel delivered Hulser and Page to the test site. The projector box sat on the seat between them. It was housed in a green container two feet square and four feet long. A glass tube protruded from one end. A power connection, sealed and with a red “do not connect” sign, centered the opposite end. A tripod mounting occupied one side at the balance point.
The morning was cold and clear with a brittle snap to the air. The sky had a deep cobalt quality, almost varnished in its intensity.
About fifty people were gathered for the test. They were strung out through the shelter—a long shed open along one side. An empty tripod stood near the open side and almost in the center. On both sides of the tripod technicians sat before recording instruments. Small black wires trailed away ahead of them torward an ebony mound almost a mile from the shed and directly opposite the open side.
General Savage already was on the scene, talking with a stranger who had arrived that morning under an impressive air cover. The stranger had worn civilian clothes. Now, he was encased in an issue parka and snowpants. He didn’t look or act like a civilian. And it was noted that General Savage addressed him as “sir.”
The general was a brusque, thick-bodied man with the overbearing confidence of someone secure in his own ability. His face held a thick-nosed, square-jawed bulldog look. In fatigues without insignia, he could have been mistaken for a sergeant. He looked the way a hard, old-line sergeant is expected to look. General Savage’s men called him “Me Tarzan” mainly because he took snow baths, mother naked, in subzero weather.
A white helmeted security guard ringed the inside of the test shed. Hulser noted that they wore no sidearms, carried no weapons except hand-held bayonets. He found himself thinking that he would not have been surprised to see them carrying crossbows.
General Savage waved to Page as the colonel and Hulser entered the shed. Colonel Page returned the gesture, stopped before a smooth-cheeked lieutenant near the tripod.
“Lieutenant,” said Page, “have all explosives except the test stack been removed from the area?”
The lieutenant froze to ramrod attention, saluted, “Yes, sir, colonel.”
Page took a cigarette from his pocket. “Let me have your cigarette lighter, please, lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant fumbled in a pocket, withdrew a chrome lighter, handed it to Page.
Colonel Page took the lighter in his hand, looked at it for a moment, hurled both lighter and cigarette out into the snow. The lighter landed about sixty feet away.
The lieutenant paled, then blushed.
The colonel said, “Every cigarette lighter, every match. And check with everyone to see that they took those special pills at least four hours ago. We don’t want any internal combustion without a motor around it.”
The lieutenant looked distraught, “Yes, sir.”
“And, lieutenant, stop the last weasel and have the driver wait to cart the stuff you collect out of our area.”
“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant hurried away.
* * *
Page turned back to Hulser, who had mounted the projector on its tripod, and now stood beside it.
“All ready, sir,” said Hulser. “Shall I connect the cable?”
“What do you think?” asked Page.
“We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”
“Okay. Connect it, then stand by with the switch in your hands.”
Hulser turned to comply. And now, as the moment of the critical test approached, he felt his legs begin to tremble. He felt sure that everyone could see his nervousness.
A tense stillness came over the people in the shed.
General Savage and his visitor approached. The general was explaining the theory of the projector.
His visitor nodded.
Seen close-up, the other man gave the same impression of hard competence that radiated from General Savage—only more competent, harder. His cheekbones were like two ridges of tan rock beneath cavernous sockets, brooding dark eyes.
General Savage pointed to the black mound of explosives in the distance. “We have instruments in there with the explosives, sir. The wires connect them with our recorders here in the shed. We have several types of explosives to be tested, including kerosene, gasoline, engine oil. Everything we could lay our hands on except atomics. But if these things blow, then we’ll know the projector also will work on atomics.”
The visitor spoke, and his voice came out with a quality like a stick dragged through gravel. “It was explained to me that—the theory being correct—this projector will work on any petroleum fuel, including coal.”
“Yes, sir,” said Savage. “It is supposed to ignite coal. We have a few lumps in a sack to one side. You can’t see it because of the snow. But our
instruments will tell us which of these things are effected—” he glanced at Hulser “—if any.”
Colonel Page returned from checking the recording instruments.
Savage turned to the colonel. “Are we ready, Ed?”
“Yes, general.” He glanced at Hulser, nodded. “Let’s go, Larry. Give it power.”
Hulser depressed the switch in his hand, involuntarily closed his eyes, then snapped them open and stared at the distant explosives.
A low humming arose from the projector.
Page spoke to the general. “It’ll take a little time for the effect to build u—”
As he started to say “up” the mound of explosives went up in a giant roaring and rumbling. Colonel Page was left staring at the explosion, his mouth shaped to say “p.”
Steam and dust hid the place where the explosives had been.
The gravel voice of the visitor spoke behind Hulser. “Well, there goes the whole shooting match, general. And I do mean shooting!”
“It’s what we were afraid of, sir,” said Savage. “But there’s no help for it now.” He sounded bitter.
Hulser was struck by the bitterness in both voices. He turned, became conscious that the lieutenant whom Page had reprimanded was beating at a flaming breast pocket, face livid. The people around him were laughing, trying to help.
Page had hurried along the line of recorders, was checking each one.
The significance of the lieutenant’s antics suddenly hit Hulser. Matches! He forgot his spare matches after losing his cigarette lighter! Hulser glanced to where the colonel had thrown the lighter, saw a black patch in the snow.
Page returned from checking the recorders. “We can’t be sure about the coal, but as nearly as we can determine, it touched off everything else in the stack!” He put an arm on Hulser’s shoulder. “This young genius has won the war for us.”
Savage turned, scowled at Hulser.
The (civilian?) snorted.
But Hulser was staring out at the explosion crater, a look of euphoria on his face.
The technicians were moving out into the area now, probing cautiously for unexploded fragments.
The general and his visitor exchanged a glance that could have meant anything.
Savage signaled his radio operator to call for transportation.
Presently, a line of weasels came roaring up to the test site.
Savage took Hulser’s arm in a firm grip. “You’d better come with us. You’re a valuable piece of property now.”
Hulser’s mind came back to the curious conversation between Savage and the visitor after the explosion, and he was struck by the odd sadness in the general’s voice. Could he be an old war dog sorry to see it end? Somehow, on looking at the general, that didn’t fit.
* * *
They sped across the barrens to the base, Hulser uncomfortable between the general and his visitor. Apparently, no one wanted to discuss what had just happened. Hulser was made uncomfortable by the lack of elation around him. He looked at the back of the driver’s neck, but that told him nothing.
They strode into the general’s office, an oblong room without windows. Maps lined the walls. A low partition separated one space containing two barren tables from another space containing three desks one set somewhat apart. They crossed to the separate desk.
Savage indicated his visitor. “This is Mr. Sladen.” There was a slight hesitation on the “mister.”
Hulser suppressed a desire to salute, shook hands. The other man had a hard grip in an uncalloused hand.
Sladen’s gravelly baritone came out brusque and commanding. “Brief him, general. I’ll go get my people and their gear together. We’ll have to head right back.”
Savage nodded. “Thank you, sir. I’ll get right at it.”
Sladen cast a speculative look at Hulser. “Make sure he understands clearly what has just happened. I don’t believe he’s considered it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sladen departed.
Hulser felt an odd sinking sensation in his stomach.
Savage said, “I’m not rank happy, Hulser, and we haven’t much time. We’re going to forget about military formality for a few minutes.”
Hulser nodded without speaking.
“Do you know what has just happened?” asked Savage.
“Yes, sir. But what puzzles me is that you people don’t seem pleased about our gaining the whip hand so we can win this war. It’s—”
“It’s not certain that we have the whip hand.” Savage sat down at his desk, picked up a book bound in red leather.
“You mean the enemy—”
“Bright ideas like yours just seem to float around in the air, Hulser. They may already have it, or they could be working on it. Otherwise, I’d have seen that your brainstorm was buried. It seems that once human beings realize something can be done, they’re not satisfied until they’ve done it.”
“Have there been any signs that the enemy—”
“No. But neither have they seen any signs of our new weapon … I hope. The point is: we do have it and we’re going to use it. We’ll probably overwhelm them before they can do anything about it. And that’ll be the end of this war.”
“But, if explosives are made obsolete, that’ll mean an end to all wars,” protested Hulser. “That’s what I’m concerned about!”
The general sneered. “Nothing, my bright-eyed young friend, has thus far made war impossible! When this one’s over, it’ll be just a matter of time until there’s another war, both sides using your projector.”
“But, sir—”
“So the next war will be fought with horse cavalry, swords, crossbows and lances,” said Savage. “And there’ll be other little improvements!” He slammed the red book onto his desk, surged to his feet. “Elimination of explosives only makes espionage, poisons, poison gas, germ warfare—all of these—a necessity!”
“How can you—”
“Don’t you understand, Hulser? You’ve made the military use of explosives impossible. That means gasoline. The internal combustion motor is out. That means jet fuels. Airplanes are out. That means gunpowder. Everything from the smallest sidearm to the biggest cannon is out!”
“Certainly, but—”
“But we have other alternatives, Hulser. We have the weapons King Arthur used. And we have some modern innovations: poison gases, curare-tipped crossbow bolts, bacterial—”
“But the Geneva Convention—”
“Geneva Convention be damned! And that’s just what will happen to it as soon as a big enough group of people decide to ignore it!” General Savage hammered a fist on his desk. “Get this! Violence is a part of human life. The lust for power is a part of human life. As long as people want power badly enough, they’ll use any means to get it—fair or foul! Peaceful or otherwise!”
“I think you’re being a pessimist, sir.”
“Maybe I am. I hope I am. But I come from a long line of military people. We’ve seen some things to make us pessimists.”
“But the pressures for peace—”
“Have thus far not been strong enough to prevent wars, Hulser.” The general shook his head. “I’ll tell you something, my young friend: When I first saw the reference to your ideas in the charges against you, I had the sinking sensation one gets when going down for the third time. I hoped against hope that you were wrong, but I couldn’t afford not to investigate. I hoped that Major Lipari and Sergeant Chamberlain had you pegged for—”
The general stopped, glared at Hulser. “There’s another bone I have to pick with you! Your treatment of two fine soliders was nothing short of juvenile! If it wasn’t for the Liparis and the Chamberlains, you’d be getting thirty lashes every morning from your local slavekeeper!”
“But, sir—”
“Don’t ‘But, sir’ me, Hulser! If there was time before you leave, I’d have you deliver personal apologies to both of them!”
Hulser blushed, shook his head. “I don’t know. All I real
ly know is that I was sure my idea would work, and that Lipari and Chamberlain didn’t understand. And I knew if I was killed, or if my idea wasn’t developed, the enemy might get it first.”
Savage leaned back against his desk, passed a hand across his eyes. “You were right, of course. It’s just that you were bucking the system, and you’re not the right kind to buck the system. Your kind usually fails when you try.”
Hulser sighed.
“You’re now a valuable piece of property, my lad. So don’t feel sorry for yourself. You’ll be sent home where you can be around when your wife has that child.”
Hulser looked surprised.
“Oh, yes, we found out about her,” said Savage. “We thought at first you were just working a good dodge to get home to her.” He shrugged. “You’ll probably have it fairly soft now. You’ll be guarded and coddled. You’ll be expected to produce another act of genius! The Lord knows, maybe you are a genius.”
“You wait and see, sir. I think this will mean an end to all wars.”
The general suddenly looked thoughtful. “Hulser, a vastly underrated and greatly despised writer—in some circles—once said, ‘There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things.’ That’s a very deep statement, Hulser. And there you are, way out in front with ‘a new order of things.’ I hope for the sake of that child you’re going to have—for the sake of all children—that we don’t have another war.” He shrugged. “But I don’t hold out too—”
Sladen popped back into the office. “Our air cover’s coming up, general. We’ll have to take him like he is. Send his gear along later, will you?”
“Certainly, sir.” Savage straightened, stuck out his right hand, shook with Hulser. “Good luck, Hulser. You take what I said to heart. It’s the bitter truth that men of war have to live with. You weren’t attacking the source of the problem with your bright idea. You were attacking one of the symptoms.”
Savage’s left hand came up from his desk with the red book. “Here’s a gift for that child you’re going to have.” He pressed the book into Hulser’s hands. “The next generation will need to understand this book.”
The Collected Stories of Frank Herbert Page 20
