McFee was speaking. "Leaders, I have been ordered to transmit to you great news!" He paused. "The Change is upon us."
They stirred, alert, attentive. Hamilton sat up. Hell's delight! he thought, the ship about to raise and I have to be saddled with that holy fool Cliff. "Bournby!"
"Yes, sir."
"You and your section-prime communications. Here's your spool. Memorize it at once. You'll cooperate with the chief of propaganda." "Right."
"Steinwitz, your section is assigned to Power Center. Take your spool. Harrickson!"
"Yes, sir."
It went on and on, Hamilton listened with half his mind, face impassive, while he tried to think himself out of his predicament. Mordan had to be warned-that was primary!-at the earliest possible moment at which he could break clear. After that, if there was some way to save the fool from his folly, he would try it. "Hamilton!" "Yes, sir."
"Special assignment. You will-"
"Just a moment, Chief. Something has come to my attention that constitutes a danger to the movement."
"Yes?" McFee's manner was impatient and frosty. "Junior member Monroe-Alpha. I want him assigned to me."
"Impossible. Attend your orders."
"I am not being undisciplined," Hamilton stated evenly. "I happen to know this man better than any of you. He is erratic and inclined to be hysterical. He's a deviant type, but personally devoted to me. I want him where I can keep an eye on him."
McFee tapped the table impatiently. "Utterly impossible. Your zeal exceeds your sense of subordination. Don't repeat the error. Furthermore, if what you say is true, he is better off where he is-you couldn't use him. Mosely-you're his section leader. Watch him. If necessary, burn him down."
"Yes, sir."
"Now, Hamilton-" Hamilton realized with sinking heart that his attempt to find a way out for Monroe-Alpha had simply placed his friend in greater jeopardy. He was snapped to attention by McFee's succeeding words. "At the time of action, you will get yourself admitted to the Moderator for Genetics-Mordan. Burn him down at once, being particularly careful not to give him a chance to draw."
"I know his speed," Hamilton said dryly.
McFee relaxed a trifle. "You need no help on the assignment, as you are one man who can get in to see him easily-as you and I know."
"That's correct."
"So it's just as well that you haven't been assigned a section. I imagine you'll enjoy this assignment; you have a personal interest, I think." He favored Hamilton with a sly smile.
Very, very small pieces, thought Hamilton. But he managed an appropriately grim smile and answered, "There's something in what you say."
"Ah, yes! That's all, gentlemen. No one is to leave until I give the word-then by ones and twos. To your sections!"
"When do we start?" someone ventured.
"Read your spools."
Hamilton stopped McFee on the way to the lounge. "I have no spool. When is the zero time?"
"Oh, yes. As a matter of fact, it hasn't been assigned yet. Be ready from now on. Stay where you can be reached."
"Here?"
"No. At your apartment."
"I'll leave, then."
"No, don't. Leave when the rest do. Come have a drink with me and help me relax. What was that song about the Rocket Pilot's Children? It tickled me."
Hamilton spent the next hour helping The Great Man relax.
Monroe-Alpha's section was dismissed shortly before McFee released them. Hamilton used his new seniority to see to it that he and his friend were among the first groups to filter out. Once outside Monroe-Alpha, tense and excited by the prospect of action, started to babble. "Shut up," Hamilton snapped.
"Why, Felix!"
"Do as you're told," he said savagely. "To your apartment."
Monroe-Alpha continued in sulky silence, which was just as well. Hamilton wanted no talk with him until he had him alone. In the meantime he had his eye open for a telephone. The distance was short-a few flights and a short slide-away. They passed two booths. The first was occupied, the second showed a glowing transparency: OUT OF SERVICE. He swore to himself and continued.
They passed a monitor, but he despaired of getting his message across to a routine-indoctrinated mind. They hurried on to Monroe-Alpha's home. Once inside and the door sealed behind them, Hamilton stepped quickly to his friend's side and relieved him of his weapon before Monroe-Alpha had time to realize what he was up to.
Monroe-Alpha stepped back in surprise. "What did you do that for, Felix?" he cried. "What's up? Don't you trust me?"
Hamilton looked him up and down. "You fool," he said bitterly. "You utter, stupid, hysterical fool!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Thou, beside me, in the wilderness"
"FELIX! What do you mean? What's come over you?" His expression was so completely surprised, so utterly innocent of wrongdoing, that Hamilton was momentarily disconcerted. Was it possible that Monroe-Alpha, like himself, was in it as an agent of the government and knew that Hamilton was one also?
"Wait a minute," he said grimly. "What's your status here? Are you loyal to the Survivors Club, or are you in it as a spy?"
"A spy? Did you think I was a spy? Was that why you grabbed my gun?"
"No," Hamilton answered savagely, "I was afraid you weren't a spy."
"But-"
"Get this. I am a spy. I'm in this thing to bust it up. And, damn it, if I were a good one, I'd blow your head off and get on with my work. You bloody fool, you've gummed the whole thing up!"
"But ... but Felix, I knew you were in it. That was one of the things that persuaded me. I knew you wouldn't-"
"Well, I'm not! Where does that put you? Where do you stand? Are you with me, or against me?"
Monroe-Alpha looked from Hamilton's face to the gun in his fist, then back to his face. "Go ahead and shoot," he said.
"Don't be a fool!"
"Go ahead. I may be a fool-I'm not a traitor."
"Not a traitor-you! You've already sold out the rest of us."
Monroe-Alpha shook his head. "I was born into this culture. I had no choice and I owe it no loyalty. Now I've had a vision of a worthwhile society. I won't sacrifice it to save my own skin."
Hamilton swore. "'God deliver us from an idealist.' Would you let that gang of rats run the country?"
The telephone said softly but insistently, "Someone's calling. Someone's calling. Someone's-" They ignored it.
"They aren't rats. They propose a truly scientific society and I'm for it. Maybe the change will be a little harsh but that can't be helped. It's for the best-"
"Shut up. I haven't time to argue ideologies with you." He stepped toward Monroe-Alpha, who drew back a little, watching him.
Hamilton suddenly, without taking his eyes off Monroe-Alpha's face, kicked him in the groin. "Someone's calling. Someone's calling." Hamilton bolstered his gun-fast-bent over the disabled man and punched him in the pit of the stomach, not with-his fist but with stiffened fingers. It was nicely calculated to paralyse the diaphragm-and did. He dragged Monroe-Alpha to a point under the telephone, placed a knee in the small of his back, and seized his throat with the left hand.
"One move is all you'll get," he warned. With his right hand he cut in the phone. His face was close to the pick-up; nothing else would be transmitted.
McFee Norbert's face appeared in the frame. "Hamilton!" he said. "What in the hell are you doing there?"
"I went home with Monroe-Alpha."
"That's direct disobedience. You'll answer for it-later. Where's Monroe-Alpha?"
Hamilton gave a brief, false, but plausible, explanation.
"A fine time to have to do that," McFee commented. "Give him these orders: he is relieved from duty. Tell him to get far away and stay away for forty-eight hours. I've decided to take no chances with him."
"Right," said Hamilton.
"And you-do you realize how near you came to missing your orders? You should be in action ten minutes before the section group moves in. Get going."