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out for one of them.'
'Check me out?'
'It's an exclusive club,' Fairchild said, sarcastically. 'They call themselves
"Lensmen". Very
original. Samms is out recruiting E. T. Lensmen on Rigel IV and won't be back
until Wednesday. Do
you think you can bring your work to some form of definite conclusion by
then?'
'I can try. But I can't foresee my checking being done before next Friday,'
Lt. McQueen answered.
On this note the report ended.
Afterwards Mayor Love commented, 'From his tone of voice, I gather Fairchild
doesn't like either
these Lensmen or Extra Terrestrials.'
Larry smiled. 'Fairchild has problems. When Virgil Samms became a member of
the Solarian Council,
they needed someone to act as his assistant in handling the operations of the
Triplanetary
Service. The job carried too much potential power to get all the members of
the Council to agree
to put any of the obvious candidates in his place. So they chose a
second-rater that everyone
figured wouldn't be smart enough to take advantage of the position. So far,
they've been right,
and Fairchild knows it.
'What was he before? I vaguely remember the name.'
'He was Samms' public relations officer.'
'Oh,' Mayor Love said.
'One thing you can be sure of: if Samms has started a club, it's worth joining
if you can.'
'Did you find out anything about Copernicus Control?' Larry asked.
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'No, nothing,' Mayor Love answered. 'There's nothing unusual in the Central
File computer's
records that I could find. No one has made a lot of money recently or
obviously changed his
spending habits.'
'All right. It's later than I expected, and I'm beat,' Larry said. 'Let's wait
and see what
happens at the Board of Directors meeting tomorrow. We should be able to tell
where Harness
stands, and afterwards I can work down through the rest of the organization.'
A few moments later Lt. McQueen and Mayor Love parted. Neither knew that the
Monday morning Board
of Directors meeting would never be held.
CHAPTER SEVEN
EMERGENCY!
The next morning Al Lewis sat at his station in Copernicus Control watching
the digital clock at
the top of the console click off the seconds. All was quiet for the moment. In
two more hours, at
0800, his shift would be over. Two hours seemed like forever. He looked over
the edge of the
balcony, where the operators sat, down into the tank. Thousands of colored
lights blinked back,
each representing some object in the 60-foot, tri-dimensional model of the
Solar System. It was
the largest, most complete plotting tank in the Solar System outside the
300-foot unit at Solarian
Patrol Headquarters in The Hill. This Unit, however, was just for commercial
use.
Al pulled down the visor he was wearing and started the color filters cycling
through it. With
each new color different lights in the tank sprang into prominence. Normally,
he didn't have time
to look into the tank itself. The edited information he wanted was directly
displayed on his
console. During the first shift there were six operators to handle traffic.
During the graveyard
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shift there were two, because of the reduced local activities. The tank was
actually rarely used
except as a general reference and to impress visiting firemen.
The filters continued to flick into place. He knew them by heart. Planets,
asteroids, manned
stations, unmanned stations, manned commercial spacecraft, manned military
spacecraft, private
spacecraft, unmanned cargoes in orbit, meteoroids, navigational satellites...
Suddenly, Al Lewis had the feeling again of something being wrong. But what?
The filters continued through all the major classification and then started at
the beginning
again. And again. He shortened the cycle, eliminating the obviously
superfluous filters. A buzzing
in his ear indicated that someone wanted to talk to him. Without bothering to
look at his board,
he pressed the busy switch.
'The filters cycled again. Then he saw it. Over there! A meteoroid? There
couldn't be a meteoroid
in that sector! It would be on his vision plate! Al Lewis turned, and called
up the meteoroid
display. There was no sign of the meteoroid he had seen in the tank. He
expanded the area where he
had seen it. Still nothing. He checked the tank, then his settings. Everything
should be okay, but
where was that meteoroid? He opened a line to the computer.
'I can see a meteoroid in the tank about 700,000 miles above Grimaldi. Why
isn't it on my
console?'
'All meteoroids of over 10,000 cubic feet in volume are called directly to the
attention of the
Director or Assistant Director of Copernicus Control. I have been instructed
that operator
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cognizance is not required,' the computer answered.
'When and where is that one due to land?'
'It will land in 5 hours, 46 minutes, inside the boundary of Copernicus
City.'
'WHAT?!'
The computer repeated itself.
For a few moments Al Lewis was without words. He was completely at a loss as
to what to say or do.
The Copernicus Control operators handled meteoroids, warning people of the
'weather' when small
ones were involved, and the redirection of the larger ones. Admittedly, this
was the largest one
he had seen but why didn't they know about it? Why had the computer been
instructed to edit it
from the operator's plate? Something was wrong! Horribly wrong!
'Who did you tell about this meteoroid?'
'The Acting Director of Copernicus Control, Jay Harness.'
'Who gave you the directive about operator cognizance?'
'The same person.'
'What has he done about the meteoroid?'
'I was informed that the Solarian Patrol has been notified and is taking care
of the matter.'
'Who told you?'
'Jay Harness.'
'Did he call the Solarian Patrol?'
'Yes.'
'What did he say?'
'I have no record of that conversation.'
'Why not?'
'I was instructed not to monitor it.'
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'Who did he call?'
'The Commanding Officer, Solarian Patrol Tracking Network.'
'I want to talk to him too. If he isn't available, I'll speak to whoever is
available down there.'
Al Lewis directed the computer. Changing to the intercom, he told the other
operator, 'I've got a
red hot emergency. I'm switching my board operation over to you.'
The other operator tried to protest. Al cut him off short.
Moments later, the S. P. Tracking Network Commanding
Officer came on the visiphone. He turned Al over to the Network Tracking
Officer who directed Al's
call to the Chief Tracking Operator.
'Dan Digby, Chief Tracking Officer,' the man answered.
'This is Copernicus Control. I need information on a meteoroid about 700,000
miles above
Grimaldi.'
'QRX, one second,' Chief Digby said, and pressed some buttons. 'All right, go
ahead.'
'What is its present status?' asked Al Lewis.
Chief Digby touched another button. 'You're supposed to be handling it! We're
scheduled to QRO you
at 0900.'
The visiphone blurred a moment as the Copernicus Control computer cut in and
queried the Solarian
Patrol Tracking Network Computer directly over the video channel.
'What are we supposed to be doing?' Al asked Chief Digby when the channel
cleared for a few
moments.
'Your report said you're changing its path to a circum lunar orbit for a
salvage operation,' Chief [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]