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

cut off the power.

"Oh, damn, damn, damn," Dr. Norvel said tonelessly.

The generator still smoked. A technician was trying to see into the wiring behind the panel. "Something shorted," he said unnecessarily, "It's a mess."

"We've got to get it fixed," Julia said dully.

Dr. Norvel collapsed, crying quietly. "It's too late; it's too late; it's too late."

"We worked too fast—"

Walt stood up. The book fell with a sharp, explosive sound now that he had stopped concentrating on it. "We'll have to find my frequency on the other generator."

"Not until we get all the first wave of mutants under control," Julia said. "We can't shut off their interference before."

"Suppose it takes as long on your frequency as it did on Julia's?" Dr. Norvel said. "... I don't think we've got that kind of time. As soon as they realize something's wrong...."

"What else can we do?" Walt asked.

Nobody answered.

Dr. Norvel rummaged nervously through her smock. "Anybody got a cigarette?"

The general fumbled in his uniform. "... I'm out ... Colonel?"

"I'll send out for some, sir."

"Try in my handbag," Julia said. "I think there's some there."

The general went to the handbag. He opened it. He removed the birth certificates and found the cigarettes.

Dr. Norvel took one from him and lit it. "Thanks."

"What's these?" the general asked.

"Birth certificates," Julia said.

"Uh—?"

"Of some of the mutants," Julia said. "I kept them, kept them to establish paternity. When they were all captured."

The general tossed them on the table. "It doesn't look like we'll need them.... Well, let's get that second machine going."

Technicians were already stripping out burned wiring. One of them was scribbling a list of replacement parts on a loose sheet of paper.

"I better see how many we've captured, so far," the general said. "How long it will take to get them all."

The colonel stood respectfully aside, and the general walked heavily to the office.

The laboratory was silent. After they heard him speak into the telephone, the technicians resumed conversation, hushed and hopeful, and nervous.

The general listened to the staff report from the Pentagon.

The overall situation was confused. The Army had no idea of how many mutants were still at large. Some had gone into hiding, and dressed as earthlings, they were impossible to identify by appearance.

A group of civilians had reported one mutant in custody. They had been told to knock him unconscious and keep him unconscious until further word.

Since all radio and television transmitters were in use, it was impossible to solicit aid from the great body of civilians—most of whom, indeed, knew nothing as yet of the invasion; most of whom were jamming switchboards with angry calls aimed at determining why their television sets weren't working. The official explanation, issued by the stations themselves, was sunspots.

The general listened quietly.

"Break it to the press," he said at last. "Ask that all civilians cooperate."

The Pentagon resumed the report.

It was estimated that more than eight hundred saucers had already landed across the planet. There was only a little information so far from foreign countries, all of whom had been alerted. Russia had reported nineteen mutants captured. England reported two. France—

"Thanks," the general said.

The Elder detected the interference when a control needle on the frequency transmitter began to jump erratically. Instantly he checked the displacement coupling. There was nothing wrong with it. The frequency was being properly transmitted.

He was petrified with terror. His eyes glazed. His tentacles hung limp. Breath gurgled in his body; bubbled and rattled and rasped.

Then, leadenly, he moved one tentacle.

**Conference!** he shrieked to his colleagues. **Conference,** he sobbed brokenly.

Circuits opened up; the Elder gave them his knowledge.

They had no difficulty in deducing the general picture of what was happening on Earth.

*Walt failed,** they accused Forential.

**Save us, Elder! Save us!**

There was a hysterical babble of thought throughout the space station.

Forential raced down the ladder like a tumbling spider. He threw himself along the second level corridor. He stopped, gasping, before the frequency transmitter governing his charges.

It still functioned perfectly.

The other aliens fled aimlessly through corridors, huddled in dark corners; they whimpered and moaned and waved their tentacles in terror.

**Make peace!** one of them screamed shrilly.

**Surrender!**

**They'll kill us anyway! Don't be a fool!**

**No, no, no!**

Lycan embraced the Elder for protection. Trembling, he looked up into the Elder's contorted face. They both sobbed dryly.

Forential could not think. He was paralyzed.

It was almost half an hour before they quieted.

**My mutants aren't jammed,** Forential told them for the dozenth time. **Maybe there's still hope.**

**Send them all down; send them all—**

**No! Wait!** Fierut interrupted sharply. **Wait! Reason! Suppose there is interference on Forential's frequency. Suppose it just isn't strong enough for us to detect it. Suppose they're throwing most of their power into interfering with Lycan's transmitter. Suppose there is only local interference with Forential's. We've got to take that into account.**

Great hopeless whimpers echoed in their minds.

**Wait, now, wait!** Fierut commanded. **We must assume it's true. But if we throw all available power into Forential's transmitter, maybe we can breach that purely local interference.**

**Yes? Yes? Yes?**

**Lycan: cut off your transmitter. Channel every unit of power to Forential—**

**Madness—**

**Suicide—!**

**They could change over—!**

There was a rising babble of protest.

**Earth can't tell it's off!** Fierut thought. **They must be using the two mutants down there for negative tests. They couldn't possibly have detection equipment for a displaced field.**

**It's, it's our only hope,** the Elder whispered.

Fierut scuttled out of his compartment and down the ramp to the instrument room. He began to analyze and test and measure the beams of interference pouring from Earth. He used a synchronized model of the planet to pinpoint originating sites. He traced the beams back, Earth transmitter by Earth transmitter, back to the originating site of least distortion and sharpest harmonics. **There!** he cried. **I have located their signal generator!**

**All the power is now on Forential's transmitter,** Lycan thought. **My transmitter is off.**

**Send five of your charges down to destroy the signal generator!** the Elder ordered Forential. **Hold the rest in reserve—in case of more trouble—**

Forential dropped down the ladder to the rim level. He was chattering in nervous excitement.

Gasping painfully he selected five of his best mutants.

"Come!" he cried. "I will explain as we go. Traitors on Earth.... Walt is a traitor.... Hurry!"

"I'll come too," Calvin cried eagerly. "I'll come too!"

"You stay here!" Forential ordered.

**When the installation is destroyed, prepare to switch your transmitter back on again, Lycan,** the Elder ordered. **If any of your mutants are alive, they can resume destruction.**

**If all goes well,** Forential thought, **we may yet succeed. I will reassign sectors among my remaining charges.**

Shortly five new saucer ships left the space station.

The five saucers, in V-formation, careened into the atmosphere. They circled the planet, slowing. The leader peered at a floating needle in a spherical container of liquid. The needle vibrated in answer to the beam of interference it was attuned to. The silver tip wobbled back and forth across the target.

The ships leveled out over the Rocky Mountains. Losing altitude, they hurtled on a sloping trajectory toward Washington.

Across the Great Plains. Across the turgid, swollen Mississippi River. Across the Appalachians, worn and old.

They slowed. The controls became more sluggish.

They hovered over Washington. The needle dipped.

Below, white and massive with afternoon sunlight, the Washington Monument, the tallest piece of masonry on the planet, loomed up between The Ellipse and the Tidal Basin, towering 555 feet into the air: standing rooted and solid and defiant.

Walt felt them.

"Mutants from my compartment!" he cried.

Instantly all activity in the laboratory ceased. It resumed almost immediately, pointless and frantic, now.

"They've been sent to destroy our signal generator," Dr. Norvel said matter of factly.

Technicians glanced anxiously at the suddenly unsubstantial walls. There was no protection. They were exposed as completely as if they were alone on a flat, barren tennis court of infinite dimensions.

"Cut off the transmitter!" the general ordered. "Find Walt's interference frequency!"

"... too late," Julia said. "We haven't time."

"We could be lucky!" the general insisted. "Pick a frequency range. Maybe we can hit the right one. Hurry up, for Christ's sake; you, there—!"

"But we can't cut the transmitter off," Dr. Norvel pleaded. "It would release the other mutants. Give them even five minutes...."

"I can hold them off for awhile," Walt said. "I can shield myself from the radiations of the focus rod. All the mutants have to be able to. I think I can shield the building against them; I think I have the advantage of knowing more than they do. I don't know how long I can hold such an extended shield—Until they come in after me, I guess."

"We'll stop them," the general said. "We'll stop them at the door."

"You can't," Julia said. She was slowly rousing from her stupor. "They can displace."

"I can't hold off five of them long," Walt said. "Not and hold the shield."

"It would be a greater risk, cutting off Julia's frequency, searching for Walt's."

"But Julia could help him then!" the general said.

"No, because then those on her frequency would come after us. There's more of them." Dr. Norvel pressed her forehead wearily.

"We've got to do something."

Walt's voice cut through the confused babble. "I'm trying to reason with them."

"... he hears their thoughts," Julia whispered.

Activity ceased. Breathing seemed to cease.

Walt stood erect, motionless, grim. His body was taut. His eyes were bright with tension.

Your focus rods can't penetrate! he called to them.

He braced the shielding against another assault. It came and passed. I can hold the shielding as long as you can!

We'll come in and kill you. There's five of us.

Friends, it's me. Walt.

Traitor!

No! No, I'm not!

Lies!

Let me—Listen! Forential lied! I, I can prove it! ... how?

Hell with him!

No, wait! one of the five insisted sharply. Walt didn't catch who.

He could hear them in conference.

Then one blocked out the whole conversation and held it blocked out. A moment later, the block faltered and faded. Walt felt uneasy. What had they said? Some trick?

We do know Walt, after all. We may as well listen.

He's a traitor.

Wait. If he has proof—!

He couldn't have: It's Lyrian lies!

Give me a chance! Walt pleaded. I know you all. Give me a chance. What can you lose?

Forential said—

Give me a chance!

Let's hear him.

We owe him that.

Walt was sweating now. His hands were clenched into fists. He was almost certain that the argument was for his benefit: to make their seeming acquiescence less suspicious.

I'm coming out. One of you come to me.

Walt let out his breath. "There's a chance—" He went to the table and scooped up the birth certificates. "I hope one of these fits."

"Walt!" Julia cried. "If it doesn't!"

"... they were my friends," he said. "I was raised with them. Maybe they'll believe me anyway. Bob and Jim and Dave and Reg and Willy...." Walt shrugged.

He crossed to the doorway. He left the laboratory.

Just outside he waited. One of the five saucer ships approached. He could see Julia's face at the window. It was drawn and pathetic. He wanted to go back and comfort her and tell her everything was going to be all right.

How sweet she was! Now that she was no longer infinitely wise and superior, now that she was dependent and helpless: how sweet she was!

He wanted to protect her. His heart swelled with sadness and with joy.

The saucer ship hovered. He motioned it closer. It drew in toward him like a nervous colt.

He waited.

He motioned it closer.

At last, just in front of him, it jolted down.

Willy got out.

Walt watched as the horror of openness flickered across his face.

You'll get used to it, Walt thought. You'll like it, when you get used to it.

Willy clutched the side of the ship for support. I'm, I'm all right, inside the ship.... You come inside. He clambered back out of sight.

Caution counseled refusal. But Walt approached the entrance. His increased knowledge made him confident. He had learned much—just in the last day. He was more than a match for a single mutant from the space station. If he had known as much last Monday as he