The Fury Out of Time (12 page)

“Did you know that a massed army of reporters has been searching three continents for you and causing all kinds of trouble at home? The Air Force has been accused of shanghaiing you into a mental hospital.”

“Retribution,” Karvel murmured. “I know at least three generals who have wanted to do that for years.”

“That’s nothing compared with what they’d like to do now. Let’s go where we can talk. Where are your crutches?”

“Abandoned. I am now able to limp about with a cane. The doctor’s only restriction is that I can’t kick anyone before Christmas—not even myself.” He got up resignedly. “You can carry the umbrella.”

Haskins said nothing more until they reached Karvel’s hotel suite. He locked the door and gave each room and closet a quick but thorough inspection while Karvel watched in amusement.

“It’s a habit I’ve picked up,” he said. “Well, I suppose you want to know what’s happened.”

“The approach of old age has eroded my curiosity. There really isn’t much that I can’t stand not knowing.”

“We have another U.O.”

“Ostrander?”

Haskins shook his head.

“I suppose you’re calling this one U.O.-
₃
. Just incidentally, what happened to U.O.-
₂
?”

Haskins stared at him. “Where
have
you been?”

“Here, and not reading the papers. Remember?”

“Well. The French called a high-level conference. All the major powers were represented, including the Russians.”

“The
Russians?”

“U.O.
_-2
positively established their innocence. Not even the Russians could have contributed the passenger in U.O.
_-2
It was the considered opinion of many scientists that they couldn’t have contributed the passenger in U.O.
_-1
, either. Anyway, the French got everyone’s opinion, and then they went ahead and did what they wanted to do, it being their U.O. They sent it back to where it came from—they hope— with a pointed diplomatic message in forty languages requesting that the senders cease and desist.”

“Did they send a diplomat to present the message?”

“It was just barely considered. The conference took note of what had happened to the two passengers who arrived with the U.O.’s, and decided that a dead diplomat would be negotiating under a severe handicap. I wasn’t there to argue the point. It was an extremely high-level conference, and it was rushed. Just as it was getting started some French gangsters got the idea that the French army was guarding something valuable there in the valley by St.-Pierre-du-Bois, and tried to steal the U.O.”

“The French should have let them have it. It would have served them right.”

Haskins smiled. “I don’t know what they thought it was, or what they thought they could do with it. The business sounded highly exaggerated, but it caused uneasiness in high places. The U.O. was hauled off to Paris, and the conference was pushed to an indecently hasty conclusion. Anyway, the French sent the U.O. back—they hope. We furnished the fuel, and the instrument settings were the same as those we think Ostrander used. A string was attached to the proper control, and they backed off and pulled it. Within a week the whole story had been leaked to the press, but by that time I suppose you were down here enjoying the sea breezes and boycotting newspapers.”

“Nice of you to look me up just to tell me all this.”

“I looked you up for two reasons. One, I had to find you before someone else did. The French were given a summary of your time theory, and
that
was leaked to the press, too. To put it conservatively, there’s been hell to pay. We suspect that your life is in danger.”

“Over a theory?”

“You haven’t been reading the papers. That was one reason. The other is the new U.O., which is actually U.O.
_-1
back again. No, no trace at all of Ostrander. There’s another passenger, similar to the first one and just as smashed. We were really lucky with this one, because it hit the New Mexico desert down by the Mexican border where there isn’t anything or anybody to damage. We don’t even know how long it had been there before it was spotted. Would you like to take a ride in it? You’ll have the best protection scientists can devise for you. We’re building a cylinder inside the U.O., with a controlled leakage system.”

“I don’t know,” Karvel said. “I’ll think it over.”

“You’ll
what?”

“Think it over. Has listening to so much French blurred my speech?”

Haskins got to his feet. “Start thinking,” he said coldly. “You can have until dinnertime. It may take me that long to line up a plane for us.”

For the next hour Karvel sat looking out at the Mediterranean. Finally he stirred himself, and packed their few belongings. Whistler came in just as he finished.

“I saw Haskins downstairs,” he said. “Just to wave at, but I figured we’d be leaving.”

“Check us out,” Karvel said. “I want to see if I can get ahold of some newspapers in English.”

“It was a nice vacation.”

“It’s still a nice vacation. I just decided to move it somewhere else.”

Karvel left the hotel by a side entrance. Whistler was waiting with the truck, and he asked, “Where to? Marseille?”

“If I were Haskins, that’s where I’d expect us to go. So we’ll go to Italy.”

Karvel concentrated on the newspapers, and after he’d read for a few minutes he said, “Did you ever have the impression that you were the only sane man in a world full of lunatics?”

“Ever since the Air Force moved in on me,” Whistler said.

They crossed the Italian border and leisurely followed the coast road south. “How far are we going?” Whistler asked.

“I think we’ll sell the truck and diving equipment in Rome, and take a train to Switzerland.”

“Isn’t it cold in Switzerland?”

“Probably. When you get tired of Swiss bartenders, you can learn to ski.”

“Why are you running away from Haskins?”

For a long time, perhaps for most of an hour, Karvel did not answer. Then he said, “It’d be silly to go back to France. I can probably get in touch with Haskins through the embassy in Rome.”

Whistler shrugged. “There isn’t such a thing as a Swiss bartender. They’re either French, or German, or Italian. And I don’t want to learn to ski.”

“I wasn’t running away from Haskins,” Karvel said. “I was trying to run away from myself.”

“Either way,” Whistler said, “I don’t think you’d have made it.”

Rome, then to London to meet Haskins, and finally Washington, D.C. Somewhere en route Karvel crossed the threshold of unreality. When he saw the waiting throng at Dulles International Airport he knew intuitively that the world from which he’d sought to escape had been snatched from under him, and that he would fervently hate the world that replaced it. He had lost forever the right to contemplate his unsealed mountains in comfortable obscurity. Always they would be awash with the hot glare of television lights, and his every climbing step would feed the greedy curiosity of millions, and be recorded, and measured, and debated.

“Is this necessary?” he asked Haskins.

“Think of the fuss they’ve made over the astronauts. And the astronauts only went up to collect scientific data, or to test some gadgets, or maybe for the ride. You’re going—”

“For the ride. Couldn’t you have launched me quietly some dark night, and made the announcement afterward?”

“You’ve read the papers,” Haskins said quietly.

“Yes.. . .”

The screaming headlines, the thousand variations on the thought “WHAT DOES THE FUTURE WANT FROM US?” And the absurdly speculative answers: natural resources, slaves, markets, havens from atomic holocausts. . .absurdly speculative, and at the same time terrifyingly plausible. What
did
the future want from us?

“This business was building toward global hysteria,” Haskins said.

“From here, it looks as if it’s already arrived.”

The surging crowd was no more than an unrelenting clamor and a blur of faces until an elderly man, clerical collar visible above his black overcoat, sprang into the lane the guards had cleared for Karvel, leveled a revolver, and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked off a second misfire as the guards swarmed over him. Karvel was hustled away.

“He wasn’t even a clergyman,” Haskins said later, at the hotel.

“That makes me feel much better,” Karvel said dryly. “Why did he pose as a clergyman?”

“I thought you’d read the papers.”

Karvel stared at him. “I didn’t read anything about the churches declaring open season on me!”

“Not on you. On time travel. What do you think of its religious implications?”

“Does it matter?”

“It certainly does! You’re going to be asked—repeatedly. Is time travel a religious sacrilege as well as a violation of the laws of nature? Many serious-minded, intelligent people are troubled about this, but the dangerous ones are the nuts who’ve gotten the idea that you’re about to go back in time and catch the best of Christ and Moses on a tape recorder, for commercial distribution. Or to make a Technicolor film of the Crucifixion. Supposing you interfered, and destroyed the foundations of Christianity? Or brought back alleged documentary evidence that the saints were lechers, the prophets rabble-rousers, and the cherished beliefs of all the religions mere fiction? Let enough people convince themselves that this is remotely possible, and you have—”

“Global hysteria.”

“Right. Your time theory is fantastic, but so were the events that engendered it. Where
does
the U.O. go when it vanishes?”

“My answer will be that I hope to find out.”

“You’ll say you don’t believe in your own theory?”

“I’ll say it’s only a theory. And if it’s correct, I will be traveling in time for only one purpose: to put a stop to traveling in time.”

“Good!” Haskins nodded approvingly. “Very good. Time travel or no, the important thing is to stop it, and that’s what we’re working to do. It’s an explanation with moral force, because it happens to be true. We’ve
got
to stop it.”

Karvel went his well-guarded way, and learned to ignore the crowds and the popping flashbulbs. There was an appearance before a congressional committee, at which he answered a few questions noncommittally and the congressmen made speeches. There was a much-publicized meeting with the President of the United States, and that same evening Karvel was the guest of honor at a formal reception for foreign dignitaries. His leg gave out in the receiving line.

There were long, serious discussions with State Department officials, who seemed reluctant to entrust a critical diplomatic mission to a man with military training, though none of them were volunteering to go in his place. There were press conferences, where Karvel stood blinking under the TV lights and fended off unanswerable questions.

There were letters, thousands of them, from all over the world. Some of the writers were sincere, some were obviously demented, and many defied classification. Karvel read through them until he reached the first proposal of marriage, and then he left them for Haskins to deal with.

All of it was unreal. Karvel began to ask a question of himself: “
What
U.O.?” The dullish black sphere seemed more imagined than remembered.

Then a time bomb was found in the hotel lobby. Haskins removed his entire entourage immediately, and early the next morning they were flown out to Hatch Air Force Base. A regiment of army troops was already on hand to assist in guarding the base, and the U.O. had been brought in from New Mexico and again reposed in Hangar Seven. The Scientists’ decision was to launch the U.O. from the general vicinity where it first arrived.

The protective device was already in place inside the U.O.—a reinforced cylinder that looked disquietingly like a huge coffin.

“Arm and leg joints are the principal problem in designing diving equipment,” Haskins said. “Since you don’t have to walk around, or use your hands, we’re solving the problem by not having any joints.”

“Fine. How do I throw the switch?”

“You don’t. We’ll do it with a string, the same way the French did. The cylinder is padded to give you the most comfortable ride you’ve ever had. Want to try it out?”

“Where’s the latch on the lid?”

“There isn’t any. The pressure will seal it shut, and should diminish almost at once when the U.O. stops. As soon as you can raise the lid without resistance, you’ll know it’s safe to climb out.”

“I see another advantage to this arrangement,” Karvel said.

“What’s that?”

“If anything happens to me, the mess will be confined to that coffin. Our friends in the future will have a lot less cleaning up to do before they send the thing back.”

“Oh, shut up! We’ve installed six radios, to work on various wave lengths. Three are for voice use, and three will send out automatic signals. We’re wondering how long we’ll be able to track you. Now inside with you, and see if it fits.”