[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

to be something big to winkle these torpid slugs out of their shells, but he
knew what it was, and that it was big enough to them indeed.
In fact it was their lives. He deduced that Koitska's plans for his future
comfort required a standby transmitter to service the coronets, in case
something went wrong perhaps a slightly modified one, judging by the extra
coronet Koitska had brought. And clearly it was this that they were to put
together here.
For ten hours, while the afternoon became dark night, they worked at a furious
pace. When the sun set one of the execs gestured and the generator was
started, rocking on its rubber-tired wheels as its rotors spun and fumes
chugged out, and they worked on by strings of incandes-
cent lights.
It was pick-and-shovel work for Chandler. No engineer-
ing, just unloading and roughly grouping the equipment where it was ready to
be assembled. The execs did not take part in the work. Nor were they idle.
They busied themselves in one room of the building with some small
deviceChandler could not see whatand when he looked again it was gone. He did
not see them take it away and did not know where it was taken. Toward mid-
night he suddenly realized that it was likely some essential part which they
would not permit anyone but themselves to handle . . . and that, no doubt, was
why they had come in person, instead of working through proxies.
Weary as he was, that realization seemed pregnant with possibilities to
Chandler. What could be so important?
And what use could he make of the information? So much had happened to
Chandler, so quickly, that he seemed to have numbed his reflexes. He was not
reacting as rapidly or as surely as he should; in this Wonderland if the Red
Queen were to come up to him and lop off his head he might not even remember
to die. Dizzying, worryinghis sensory network simply could not cope with the
demands on it. But all the same, he thought slowly and painfully, there was a
weapon here, a lever. . . .
Just before they left Koitska and two or three of the other execs quizzed him
briefly.
He was too tired to think beyond the questions, but they seemed to be trying
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to find out if he were able to do the simpler parts of the construction
without supervision, and they seemed satisfied with the answers. He flew the
helicopter home, with someone else guiding his arms and legs, but he was half
asleep as he did it, and he never quite remembered how he managed to get back
to his room at
Tripler.
The next morning he went back to Parts 'n Plenty with an additional list,
covering replacement of some compo-
nents that had turned out defective. Hsi glanced at it quickly and nodded.
"All this stuff I have. You can pick it
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t up this afternoon if you like."
Chandler offered him a cigarette out of a stale pack.
"About the other night "
But Hsi shook his head violently. He began to perspire, but he said, casually
enough, "Interested in baseball?"
"Baseball?"
Hsi said, as though there had been nothing incongruous about the question,
"Why, there's a little league game this afternoon. Back of the school on
Punahou and Wilder. I
thought I might stop by, then we can come back and pick up the rest of your
gear. Two o'clock. Hope I'll see you."
Chandler walked away thoughtfully. Something in Hsi's attitude suggested more
than a ball game; after a quick and poor lunch he decided to go.
The field was a dirty playground, scuffed out of what had probably once been
an attractive campus. The players were ten-year-olds, of the mixture of hair
colors and complexions typical of the islands. Chandler was puzzled
Surely even the wildest baseball rooter wouldn't go far out of his way for
this, and yet there was an audience of at least fifty adults watching the
game. And none seemed to be related to the ballplayers. The little leaguers
played grave, careful ball, and the audience watched them without a word of
parental encouragement or joy.
Hsi approached him from the shadow of the school building. "Glad you could
make it. Chandler. No, no questions. Just watch."
In the fifth inning, with the score aggregating around thirty, there was an
interruption. A tall, red-headed man glanced at his watch, licked his lips,
took a deep breath and walked out onto the diamond. He glanced at the crowd,
while the kids suspended play without surprise.
Then the red-headed man nodded to the umpire and stepped off the field. The
ballplayers resumed their game, but now the whole attention of the audience
was on the red-headed man.
Suspicion crossed Chandler's mind. In a moment it was confirmed, as the
red-headed man raised his hands waist high and clasped his right hand around
his left wristonly for a moment, but that was enough.
The ball game was a cover. Chandler was present at a meeting of what Hsi had
called The Society of Slaves, the underground that dared to pit itself against
the Execs.
Hsi cleared his throat and said, "This is the one. I
vouch for him." And that was startling too, Chandler thought, because all
these wrist-circled men and women were looking at him.
"All right," said the red-headed man nervously, "let's get started then. First
thing, anybody got any weapons?
Sure? Take a lookwe don't want any slip-ups. Turn out your pockets."
There was a flurry and a woman near Chandler held up a key ring with a tiny
knife on it. "Penknife? Hell, yes; get rid of it. Throw it in the outfield.
You can pick it up after the meeting." A hundred eyes watched the pearly
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object fly. "We ought to be all right here," said the red-headed man. "The
kids have been playing every day this week and nobody looked in. But watch
your neighbor. See anything suspicious, don't wait. Don't take a chance.
Holier 'Kill the umpire!' or anything you like, but holier. Good and loud."
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t
He paused, breathing hard. "All right, Hsi. Introduce him."
The parts man took Chandler firmly by the shoulder.
"This fellow has something for us," he said. "He's working for the Exec
Koitska, building what can't be anything else but a duplicate of the machine
that they use to control us!"
Chandler was jolted out of his detached calm. "Hey!"
he cried. "I never said anything like that!"
"You didn't have to," Hsi said tightly. "What the hell do you think I am, an
idiot? I've filled all your parts orders, remember? It's higher frequency, but
otherwise it's a duplicate of the master transmitter."
"But they never told me" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]