Earth Alert! - Kris Ottman Neville (reading women TXT) 📗

they existed somewhere on Lyria. But suppose Julia were telling the truth? Would they have been more fond of him than Forential? Could they have been?

There were so many things he did not understand. He must ask Forential about the process by which babies are created; what was the connection between parent and child? It was all so puzzling.

... why not ask Julia?

"Wait a minute," Walt interrupted. "I understand so very little. How are babies made?"

And there was a harsh, peremptory knock on the door. The manager's angry voice came booming through the paneling:

"The bell boy tells me you've got a man tied to the bed in there! We can't have that sort of thing in this hotel! Open the door, you hear me? Open the door!"

CHAPTER X

"Oh, oh," Julia whispered. "You keep your mouth shut, Walt."

She projected a distortion field around him.

The bed now appeared untenanted.

Walt was silent.

Julia opened the door. The manager stormed in.

"You, you creature!" he cried. "Tying a defenseless man on the bed for God knows what evil pur—oh. Hummm," he stared at the bed.

"Oh," he said.

"There's no one here but me."

"The bell boy—"

The manager searched the room. He looked in the closet. He looked in the shower. His face slowly began to take on color.

Foolishly he got down on his knees and peered under the bed.

"Well," he said, dusting off his trousers as he stood up, "well ... oh.... Is the service all right, Miss? Do you have any complaints? Plenty of towels? Soap? Did the bell boy raise the window—yes, I see he did. There's enough heat? I, I seemed to have—I was on the wrong floor entirely. You see—"

His face grew even more puzzled. "There's a woman on the, on the ninth floor I guess it is—how could I ever have made such a mistake? this is the seventh floor, isn't it?—has a man in her bed." His face got redder. He waved his hands. "Tied to the bed."

"Oh, my," Julia said.

"Yes, isn't it. Now, if you want anything, don't hesitate to ring. I'm sorry about this mistake. Silly of me. This is the seventh floor ... isn't it?"

"Yes, this is the seventh floor."

The manager left.

Julia locked the door behind him.

She dissolved the distortion field.

"Whew!" she said. "He was mad, wasn't he?"

Walt tried to sit up.

"No—wait. I think I'll take a chance. I'm going to leave you alone to think over what I've said. Then I'm going to come back and untie you. You're going to help me, Walt."

"I, I don't know what to think."

"Here's one thing I want you to remember when you're thinking everything out. People can be convinced of anything as long as they have no way of checking beliefs against facts. Remember that. Forential had complete control over you. You believed what he told you to. Now you've had a chance to see for yourself. You're just like an earthling. There is no war. Things like that. Think for yourself, Walt."

"How long will you be gone?"

Julia gathered up her handbag. She folded the birth certificates and stored them in it. "I don't know. I've got to convince someone of some facts that are going to be very hard to believe." She paused at the door. "I won't forget you, Walt. I'll be back soon." She smiled almost shyly. "If Calvin contacts you again, don't go away. I'll just have to hunt you down."

After she had gone, Walt relaxed. His body was still weak. He lay staring at the ceiling. Outside, the sun's rays slanted even more. A breeze, chill with approaching night, rustled the curtain.

There were shadows along the far wall.

I've been an instrument, Walt thought, a piece of metal, to be used as Forential saw fit: if she were not lying. My parents are somewhere down here on this planet, the third from the sun. They are not on Lyria. I might have killed them during the invasion. That would be worse than killing Forential, even. If Julia weren't lying to me. Forential has been raising me to fight my own people!

Forential. Saucer eyed. Tentacled. Moist and slippery. Breathing in labored gasps under high gravity. Air bubbling in his throat. Tentacles caressing, fondling—not with affection (if Julia is right) but with calculating design: to fashion my personality to his purpose....

Walt closed his eyes.

Forential, he thought.

Forential was far away in space; every second he was growing farther away in time. I've lost him, Walt thought. So much has happened, so much, so fast, since last I saw him, that I'm changing away from him every minute.

Earthlings aren't so bad. They're—they're not too much different from Lyrians, from ... mutants.

I'm a mutant?

I'm not a Lyrian?

FORENTIAL!

But Forential could not hear him.

I'll have to think for myself, Walt decided. Julia said I couldn't be fooled if I just looked at the facts.

Earthlings aren't like Forential always told us they were. They're pleasant enough. In their way. I don't see how they can menace Lyria (if there is such a place). I don't think they've even got space travel!

He tossed restlessly on the bed.

And Julia, he thought. Well, she's nice. She's all right.

She's....

Again the new emotion troubled him. He missed her. He wished she would hurry back.

Julia!

... and why did she lose her powers if she's a Lyrian? Why did I? Lyrians shouldn't lose their powers.

What about the machines on the ship?

Can there really be another compartment of—mutants?

Is that why the walls of the ship were impenetrable?

Is that why we were never permitted in more than a fraction of the overall space of the ship?

I don't think, I don't think I like Forential any more.

Julia consulted a phone directory for the address of the local F. B. I. office.

It was four thirty when she arrived, and only one man was still in the office. He had his feet propped up on the desk; he was smoking a pipe and reading a law book.

"Yes?" he said, standing up as Julia came forward.

"You better sit back down," she said.

"Well, now.... And who are you?" He said it not unkindly.

Julia gave her name. Gravely he shook hands with her.

"Sit over there, Julia," he said.

When she was seated, he sat down. He bent forward and cleared his throat.

Oh, dear, how can I start? she thought. How can I ever start? "What, what was the page you were reading in your book?"

He ignored the question. His eyelids drooped wearily. He took out a notebook. He unscrewed his pen cap.

"I suppose you want to report on the family next door?" he said.

"Well, as a matter of fact, no," Julia said. "I wanted—" And again her resolve faltered.

"Yes?" the F.B.I. man asked.

His law book floated from the table behind him and drifted over his shoulder. It opened itself before his face. The pages riffled.

"What page?" Julia asked intently.

The F.B.I. man took his pipe out of his mouth and looked at it. "Page one hundred and fifteen," he said.

The book fell open to that page.

The F.B.I. man plucked it out of the air. He felt all around it. He put it in his lap. His eyelids were no longer weary.

"I think I underestimated you," he said. "I believe I'm going to sit right here and take down every word you say." He gestured with his pipe. "Start talking."

Julia spoke slowly. She gave the F.B.I. man all the information she had. His pen skimmed rapidly, making short hand squiggles over the white pages of his notebook.

When she had finished, he looked up. He tossed the law book toward the desk. She caught it and let it down gently, so that it landed without a sound.

"Julia," the man said, "put yourself in my position. What would you do if someone came to you with a story like this?"

"I'd send that person to Washington, where she could talk to somebody."

"I'd like a little more proof."

Julia passed her hand through the back of the chair. "I should certainly be investigated: just on the basis of being able to do that, shouldn't I?"

The F.B.I. man nodded. "Do that again."

Julia did.

"Excuse me a minute," he said. He swiveled to his desk. He picked up his phone and dialed. He waited. "... Peggy? This is me. I won't be home for dinner tonight. A case just came in...." He hung up.

He turned back to Julia.

"Now, about this space station. How is it we haven't seen it?"

"I assume it has a distortion field around it. It's invisible."

"Hummmm." He entered that in his notebook. "Is there any way we could detect it?"

"I.... If I were able to talk to a physicist, he might be able to build detection equipment. It would take time."

"I see. Now, about this Walt. How dangerous would you say he is?"

"I disconnected the bridge in his mind."

"Bridge?"

"I call it that. It's what makes us different. It could be built into a normal human being, I think."

"You mean," he said, "I could be fixed up to do the things you can do? Teleportation? Telepathy?"

"If I were a surgeon, I think I could change your brain to our pattern. I can see how it should be done. But I'd have to train to be able to. Surgery is a skill; it takes practice to master it."

"How long?"

"I don't know."

"How long until the invasion?"

"I don't know that either. I don't know whether or not I can find out from Walt. I doubt if he has enough information to tell me. Very soon now. Less than a month. Maybe even tomorrow."

"There's no time, then," he said. He chewed his lip. "I see.... The Air Force still has its saucer files. I'm going to refer you to it."

"We haven't much time. Remember that."

The F.B.I. man looked at his watch. "There's a plane to Washington in three hours. I'll get you reservations on it. I'll phone the head office there. There'll be somebody from the Air Force to meet you."

"I'll leave at eight, is that right?"

"From the city airport. Just a minute. I'm going to assign a man to you. I don't want anything happening between now and then."

"I can look out for myself," Julia said. "I'll pick up my ticket and Walt's at the reservation booth. 'Bye."

The F.B.I. man blinked his eyes. She had vanished. He got up and searched the office carefully. The door had not opened.

But she was gone.

Sweating, he went to the phone.

In less than two minutes, he was talking to Washington. When he recradled the phone, he was shaking. He took out his pipe, filled it, lit it, walked to the window.

He looked out at the twilight city. A lone star sparkled in the sky. He stared upwards.

"My God," he said softly to himself.

He crossed to the teletype, switched the current on. He began typing his notes on it for the benefit of Washington.

Back in the hotel room, Julia released Walt. Free, he stood up uncertainly.

"I think you'll help me," she said levelly. "I disconnected the bridge in your mind; I'm going to leave it that way. I can't afford not to. But am I right, Walt?"

"I'm not sure. I, I'll have to see."

"We're going to fly to Washington tonight."

"Washington?"

"The seat of the government. You clean up in the bathroom, now. But hurry. We'll have to catch a plane out of here at eight o'clock. It's after six."

"All right."

While she was waiting, she studied herself despairingly in the mirror. I look, she thought, like something the cat dug up.

When Walt came back, she took his arm possessively.

"I'm hungry," he said.

"Oh?" Julia said. "We'll have time to eat, I guess. I wish we didn't have to eat hotel food, though. I'm a good cook." She led Walt to the door. "You'll see what I mean, if we can get this invasion stopped. I'm going to make you invisible, now."

After they ate, Julia drove her car to the airport. The reservations were waiting. So was the F.B.I. man.

"I teletyped my report to them. They wanted me to accompany you."

He introduced himself to Walt.

Walt shook his hand. Walt no longer recoiled