Children of Tomorrow (26 page)

‘Has there been any violence?’

‘No. She says Bud isn’t resisting.
’

‘Sack,’ said Lee. His call had been designed to put the authority of the outfit leader behind what the jabbers on the scene were doing. And it had now achieved that purpose.

Lee hung up. And Mike pressed the button again, disconnect-" ing. He stood, then, and explained in his friendliest voice to the woman what Lee had said. He finished, ‘Now, Mrs Jaeger, we believe you are Bud’s friend as well as his mother. So, if anything goes wrong before tomorrow morning, will you phone either Lee David or Mike Sutter?’

The woman nodded. Her expression was strained. ‘It’s going to be difficult,’ she said, ‘but he did let me come out to talk to you. And I’ll argue with him.’ There was a hint of color in her cheeks. The stress of the situation had lifted her bodily, in a manner of speaking, out of her apathy. She finished, and there was determination in her voice, ‘I sure won’t let him hurt that boy.’

Mike said, ‘Sack.’

The four boys stood watching as the drably dressed woman turned, and walked to the gate, then up to the door, and inside. After the door closed, they stood for at least another five minutes. At the end of that time, there was still no sign of anything unusual in the house.

Mike accordingly said, ‘Lee says we can go home. On your way, jabbers.’

The four separated. One boy crossed the street. Another went the same direction on the sidewalk they were on. Mike and Albert walked side by side to the nearest corner in the other direction. At the comer, Mike turned right, and Albert left.

In the Jaeger master bedroom, the woman had finished her account of her interview with the Red Cats. Len Jaeger, listening, lay sprawled on his back on the bed. He was fully clothed. His narrowed eyes stared in the general direction of the juncture of ceiling and wall across the room. His jaws were clamped in a stubborn rejection of what his wife had said.

‘Nothin’ doin’,’ he growled. ‘Those kids nearly killed me.’ He spoke the lie without blinking, and with no hesitation. ‘But I’m not going to knuckle under to any bunch of gangsters, young or old. The moving company can’t move us'for two days, but I’m takin’ the attitude that we’re movin’ tomorrow. So that’s the way it is. And I’ve got a little old shotgun in there’ - he shifted his gaze for the first time, and nodded toward the clothes closet
to his right - 'that says it’s gonna happen my way.’

Mrs Jaeger said pleadingly, ‘It’s only for two more days, Len. Why don’t you just turn your attention away from the whole problem. If you have any feeling left for me, you won’t cause this trouble. Remember, your hard way drove Bud from us once before. And it changed him. He’s not the same.’

Her husband interrupted her. ‘Yeah,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Found it wasn’t that simple out there in the world, eh? Needed the old man to help out. Okay, the price of my help is a disciplined, obedient life. The day he’s old enough to look after himself, then he can do what he wants. But he’s gonna grow up right, without any nonsense in his head.’ As he finished speaking those words, he saw that the woman was parting her lips to speak. Jaeger cut her off, with a bellow, ‘I don’t want to hear no more! That’s enough of that!’

Shortly after 6 a.m. the following morning, Susan, fully dressed, tiptoed out of her bedroom and went into the den, closing the door behind her. In a moment, she was at the phone, push-buttoning a number. There was a sound in the receiver of a distant phone ringing.

In the appartment of Peter Sennes and his friend, both men awakened to the sound of the phone ringing. Sennes was the drowsier, and so it was the younger man who answered. ‘Hello?’ Pause, then: ‘Just a moment.’ He put one hand over the mouthpiece, and with the other made the gesture to Sennes, indicating that the call was for him. ‘It’s your jabber... Susan.'

The captain sat up, went through a rapid waking-up wriggling, and then took the receiver. By this time, there was a cynical smile on his face. ‘Hello, there,’ he said.

Susan sat in her father’s favorite drinking chair, and crouched cautiously over the phone, as if by shielding it with her body she would keep the sound of her voice from carrying. ‘Peter,’ she said in a low, secretive voice, ‘will you marry me?’

The officer was awake by now, totally in control, matter-of- fact, friendly. ‘Hey!’ he said. ‘Not so fast. What’s up?’

Even an affectionate resistance was almost too much for the girl. ‘I asked you a civil question/ she said in a trembling voice. ‘Yes or no?’

‘Can we talk about it?’ said Sennes. ‘Say, why don’t you come to the field and have breakfast with me? You know I have to take my routine test flight today.’

‘I know/ was the tense reply, ‘and I want you to take me with you. We can be married by the minister on Tombaugh. It’s done all the time.’

The whole thing was a little swift even for an experienced
cot
-6
161
philanderer. And Sennes hesitated. After a few moments, he must have realised his delay in replying could have a devastating effect. He said hastily, ‘Reason I’m a little slow on that is I’ve already got a passenger lined up for today. But’ - his face cleared, as the decision took place - ‘why don’t you come along, also? No real problem. Is that all right, my dear?’

‘I guess so.’ For a moment she was uncertain. Then she swallowed, and said earnestly, ‘It’s got to be right away, Peter.
We’ve
got to be married right away. Today.’

‘I’ll meet you at the Subsurface at the takeoff hangar - same place as last Sunday,’ said a relieved Sennes, ‘in about
’
- he glanced at his watch, and raised his eyebrows as he saw the time; grimaced - ‘in about forty minutes’

‘I’ll be there,’ said Susan.

The man heard the disconnecting click at the other end of the line. As he replaced his own receiver, he made the familiar victory gesture with forefinger and thumb shaped into a circle. He said, ‘My little jabber wants to discuss marriage.’ .

The younger man shook his head with reluctant admiration.
‘
And no one can discuss marriage like you can.’

Sennes was heading for the bathroom. ‘I’ve got to make
a
rapid exit, so don’t slow me down with too much praise.’

In the den of the Lane house, Susan was hastily writing a note, which read:

Dear Mother and Dad:

By the time you read this I will be Mrs Peter Sennes. I’m sorry it had to be this way, but it’s all for the best. Wish me luck.

Your loving daughter, Susan.

She laid the letter on the bar, went softly to the den door, and by a combination of tiptoeing and careful opening and closing of the outside door, was presently hurrying up the street to the Subsurface. Moments later, she entered the elevator. The door closed, and the indicator showed that the machine was heading down.

The small girl’s olive-complexioned face took on a bleached- white, drawn look. Timidly, she touched Mike’s arm. Mike’s tightly pressed lips relaxed a bit. His other arm came up and that hand touched her shoulder, lightly, encouragingly. That was all. He withdrew his hand. He nodded at her. ‘Let’s get going,’ he said.

Lee commanded: ‘Mike, you come with me!’ To the others: 'You know your jobs in a situation like this. Get set.’

Having spoken, he started rapidly along the street, followed by Mike. The two boys proceeded to a point where other houses blocked all sight of them from anybody in the Jaeger residence. Whereupon, they climbed the fence there, ran at top speed down the side of that house, and over three fences into the Jaeger backyard. Since time had gone by, Lee drew out a gas pistol while Mike headed for the rear door, after reporting that, ‘Mrs Jaeger said last night she’d leave this back door unlocked, and maybe even ajar.’

So Mike entered an empty kitchen without incident. Without glancing back, he beckoned Lee, who came running. Moments later, Lee followed, gas gun poised, while Mike went forward along a hallway to the living room.

Thus it was Mike, in front, who actually saw an event that had been building up inside the Jaeger house for the previous four minutes.

Bud, who had been ordered to remain in his bedroom, was of course in a state. He was due to be at one of the
Omnivulture
hangars by nine o’clock for the takeoff with Captain Sennes . .. and his escape from earth. Len Jaeger’s unreasoning attitude toward the outfits - which had been considered an excellent screening emotion that would in a crisis be a protection for the alien boy - was now revealed as a madness sufficient to endanger the escape plan.

Bud had been standing at his bedroom door, watching his ‘father’ with the poised shotgun. Through the window he could see Marianne as she opened the gate. Moments later, the girl started along the walk toward the house, and disappeared from the line of sight visible through the window.

In the front room, Len Jaeger opened the outside door a crack, and poked the barrel of the shotgun through it. Mrs Jaeger, who had been crouching in a chair in the dining room alcove, ran forward as her husband pointed the gun. The man saw her, or heard her, coming. As she grabbed at him, he made a thrust with one hand and arm. The blow caught her on the shoulder, and spun her even as it shoved her back the way she had come. She ended up, sprawled on the floor, screaming at the man. But
she made no further move; did not try to get up.

For Bud, it was a moment of confusion. He was unaware of the police across the street. To him, Marianne was unprotected, ‘Hey!’ he protested, ‘you wouldn’t shoot a girl!’

‘Get back into your bedroom!’ snarled the man. He spoke without glancing away from what he was doing. His jaw tightened with determination. The shotgun came up.

For Bud, it had the look of the moment of decision. He had not been a jabber long enough to realise that outfits had dealt with equally dangerous threats, and had a technique for it. That even the way Marianne was coming toward the door, was a method: to aim at her Jaeger would have to open the door wider, so that he could point the gun to the left. But so far as Bud was concerned, it was up to him. It was a great responsibility, too much for a boy, alien or human. As he ran forward, the severity of what he had to do made him forget the intricate play act of being Bud Jaeger.

The first lapse was his arms. The steel-strong tentacles that coiled around an instantly astonished man bore no resemblance to human arms and hands at the moment of attack.

Once more, it was not Len Jaeger’s hour, or day. He defended himself with a convulsive gesture. Actually threw Bud off of him. But the required effort simultaneously did several disastrous things. The shotgun automatically jerked up and sideways, opening the door wide. Through this, precipitated by reaction from the muscular effort of freeing himself from the python-like arms of his ‘son,’ the man staggered. Since he was still clinging to the gun, to those outside it looked as if he was charging forth with mayhem intent.

Over in the panel truck, Henry and his companion - operating at two different peepholes - didn’t have time to decide which of them should fire. As a result, both gas guns discharged. The two gas pellets, like a pair of poison darts, bridged the hundred or so feet from the truck to the target. The man jumped as those frozen crystals of anesthetic gas penetrated his clothes and made their icy entry into his body. After that first instant, the rebellion of Len Jaeger was a thing of the past. He staggered like a man who has been mortally wounded. But he fell by sinking to his knees. Slowly, then, he leaned forward. He lay down on the walk in front of Marianne as if it were a bed, and he was seeking it for a long, cozy sleep.

Inside the house, Bud was still out of control. As he fought to retain his balance, even his legs reverted to tentacle shape. While an amazed Mike watched - and, seconds later, Lee also - the alien boy bobbed up and down, and sideways, like a creature on springs. His clothes only partially concealed how truly inarticulated and boneless his limbs were.

During those prolonged moments, his face lost most of its Bud Jaeger resemblance. He recovered his balance at a point when he was partly facing Mike and Lee. And there must have been something in their expressions.

Two things, then.

He tried to recover. The face came back. The legs straightened. The arms made a vague effort toward being bone as well as muscle, and each with an elbow and wrist.

That was one thing.

The second: he realised from what he saw in their widened eyes that it was too late. Or, at least, he
thought
he saw that.

He turned and ran out of the door.

It was the awkward, human version of his run. And so he burst forth from the doorway, slamming the door shut behind him, and locking it. His flight had a human look about it to the other Red Catters.

Nobody tried to stop him. Because, after all, he was the one they were trying to free, so that he could go to school. And the sooner he was out of the way, the better, perhaps. Albert even looked after him, and said,
‘
Let him go. We’ll ^ee him at school. And no use him being around while we deal with his dad.’

So Bud ran the short half-block to the nearest comer. And then he ran the long block to the Subsurface. Into the elevator he darted, and down he went, and gone, he was - safe.

He left behind him, principally, confusion in the minds of Mike and Lee. They were far from being as clear about what they had seen as Bud feared they had. And with each passing moment, the memory grew more blurred.

Because, of course, it was impossible.

Back to the hospital went Len Jaeger. And the Red Cat outfit members headed for school, most of them subconsciously anticipating that some time during the day they would see Bud. Certainly, this would be true after final class, they believed.

Except Mike was not that certain. In Mike memories stirred. He visualised the first time he had chased Bud, and brought him down with a football-style tackle. Several recollections followed, of Bud running, or walking, in his awkward fashion. And finally, recurring several times - as he sat in class at his mechanised desk, with its computer connections, and other electronic teaching equipment - the memory of Bud that morning.

Yet Mike did nothing. He moved through the day like an automaton. His haunted face with the inwardly looking eyes periodically confronted kids that he knew. And turned away, expression unchanged, almost unnoticing. In a vague fashion he communicated. Each time, it was a variation of the same question: ‘Have you seen Bud Jaeger?’

Nobody had.

The school clocks moved slowly around to 2.09 p.m. Mike was on his way back to his class room after the brief intermission. Suddenly . . . his feeling and memories and thoughts coalesced. He stopped. Turned. Then he was racing along corridors that were rapidly emptying thousands of students back into their classrooms for the final class of the day.

By the time Mike came to Lee’s room, the class was in session . . . after the manner of such classes, of course. It was a senior group, and accordingly there was no supervising instructor permanently in the room. Mike stood at the open door, and beckoned Lee. The blond boy got up, and came over. The two youths thereupon had a brief but earnest conversation. Finally, Lee reentered the room, shut off his equipment. When he came out again, the two of them hastened along the corridor to the nearest exit. A minute later, they left the school grounds. And, shortly, they were entering the elevator of a Subsurface.

Estelle and John Lane had breakfast - just the two of them - about half past eight that morning. ‘Not a sound from Susan,’ said the woman, ‘so I think I’ll just let her sleep.’

Her husband made a neutral noise, indicating that he had heard the words but had no opinion on the matter. The woman stared at him accusingly, but if he was pleased at the development, he was careful not to show the thought. And he kept his eyes pretty well looking down at his plate.

His wife accompanied him presently to the front door. And when he tentatively bent to kiss her, she cringed but did not turn her lips away. So they shared a good-bye kiss. It was a reconciliation of sorts. And the woman was somewhat more cheerful as she went about her housework. First, the kitchen, of course. Next, the dining room. Then - biggest job - the living room. It was a long job, and she was only half done, when she decided to have a cup of her delightful coffee. She made the coffee, poured it, and was replacing the coffee maker in its cradle, when she saw the clock. The time was a few minutes after ten.

Her eyes frowned a little. She pursed her lips. Decision. With purposeful steps, she left the kitchen and walked to Susan’s bedroom. Found it unoccupied, of course. After a blank period, she searched the room for a message. Nothing.

Her alarm had been increasing. So, rapidly now - for a dignified lady - she ran back to the kitchen, straight to the phone.

In the middle of pressing out a number, she paused.

Her eyes changed, losing their fear. She grew thoughtful. Her lips formed, and murmured the words, ‘Maybe she’s at school, and he won’t like that.’

She replaced the receiver, and forced herself to sit down. She drank her coffee, then, and stared off into the infinite spaces of her mind.

Her face and eyes grew tired. ‘Maybe,’ she muttered, ‘I should lie down for a while.’

It cost her an effort to go to her bedroom. And when she got there she sort of poured herself onto it. She lay there like a large lump of jelly.

After a while she slept.

It was shortly after 10.00 a.m. that the intercom buzzed on Lane’s huge desk. It was Andrew Scott with the information that Len Jaeger was again in the hospital.

The man at the desk in the big communication room, said, What happened to Mr Jaeger?’

From his end, the secretary said, ‘According to the report I have, Mr Jaeger attemp
t
ed to stop his son from going to school this morning.’

“What are his injuries?’ Lane asked grimly.

‘Well, none - exactly. He was rendered unconscious with two gas anesthetic pellets, and after he sleeps it off he will be free to go home.’ The smooth voice broke off. ‘You asked me to keep you informed about this man, sir.’

‘Yes, yes.’ He nodded half to himself. A decision was forming. It was not entirely of the moment, of course, but his manner had in it a sort of impatient the-time-has-come-to-do-something. He continued, ‘Mr Scott, I find myself puzzled - and that is a mild word - by the privileges which seem to have been accorded outfits while I was absent from earth. Apparently, these groups can at will damage adults, without penalty.’

‘There are rules, sir, governing these matters.’

‘They seem to be very elastic,’ the officer retorted with asperity. 'Anyway, will you ask a member of - what is it called? - the Outfit Training Center, to come over here some time today and brief me on this whole matter?’

‘Very well.’

The appointment was made for 1,30 p.m. that afternoon. ‘A Mr Portanyi will represent the Outfit Training Center,’ said the secretary. -

The fleet comander said with a sardonic smile, ‘I have a feeling that my wife would be very happy to hear of this meeting.’

’Shall I call her and tell her?’

‘No, no, of course not.’ Lane spoke ha
stily. “Under no circumstances!

Lane was still at his desk a few minutes before noon, when a voice spoke from the big viewplate. It was a man’s voice, very tense. ‘Commander Lane/ it
said, ‘a patrol craft of the 20,000 SA series has just advised that the alien fleet has crossed the orbit of Neptune and is moving toward zero.’ Zero was earth.

It was electrifying news; and Lane jumped to his feet. “What disposition are you in?’

‘In depth, sir, as ordered. Formation at the moment is Plan T.23. First collision is probably not before midnight.’

The fleet commander had control of himself again. “Very good.’ he said, ‘keep
Oriole
close to zero. I may come aboard some time this evening.’

‘Very well, Commander.’ The bodiless voice fell silent.

Lane turned to his desk, and made another call to his secretary. 'Mr Scott/ he said,
‘
have a space-lift on the ready for me all day and evening,®