Гарри Гаррисон - The Jupiter Plague

“Can’t anything be done about it?” The sergeant hauled on the wheel to take them around a burnt-out semi that almost filled the street.

“No, they’ve tried everything they possibly could, every last possibility…” then Sam stopped, cold. Suddenly angry. “Yes, by God, something can be done. I don’t know if it will work or not, but it is something that hasn’t been tried yet. And when you’re in the position that we are— why then you try anything at all. Would you mind taking me back to Bellevue…”

“My pleasure, Sam.” The tires squealed as they cut in a tight circle. “Be there in two minutes.”

Sam jumped down from the ambulance at the front entrance and waved goodbye to the soldier. The guards there carefully examined his ID before they would admit him. He went directly to the admissions desk and picked up the phone, then dialed locator and told them to trace Professor Chabel, to connect him at once if he hadn’t left the hospital. Then he waited, fighting down his growing impatience. The screen stayed dark, with just the expanding circles of the hold signal in the center, and he looked over the floor nurse’s shoulder at the ward display screens. The patients were sleeping and the wards were dark but clearly revealed to the watching nurse by the infrared illumination and infrared-sensitive TV pick-ups. There was still no answer to his phone call. Reaching over, he dialed the number of Nita’s bed on the close-up screen, and her face appeared over the current readings from the telltales. She was weakening…

“I have Professor Chabel, Doctor.”

He cleared the close-up screen and turned to the phone.

“Professor Chabel, I would like to see you; it’s urgent.”

“I was just leaving the hospital…”

“This can be done very quickly, just a moment if you don’t mind.”

Chabel peered out from the tiny screen, as though trying to define Sam’s thoughts. Then, “If you insist, but you had better come at once. I’m in 3911.”

On the way down in the elevator he remembered that this was McKay’s office, which meant that Eddie Perkins would be there too. It couldn’t be helped, the matter was too urgent. The secretary showed him in at once; Chabel was behind the desk packing papers into his briefcase and Perkins was at the window, drawing heavily on a cigarette.

“What do you want?” Chabel asked, without preamble, and strangely curt.

“I want to go into the ship, the ‘Pericles.’ The ship must be investigated…”

“Impossible, you know that, you heard the decision.”

“Damn the decision! We’re here and it’s our problem, and we can’t be dictated to by a meeting in Stockholm. They are worried only about the possible danger, but we can arrange it so that there is no danger. I’ll go along into the air lock, remember I’ve been there already and nothing happened to me. I won’t touch a thing until that plate you’ve put on has been sealed behind me, with just a phone connection through it so that I can report. Do you see? There is absolutely no danger — I’ll stay in the ship after I have reported, stay there as long as is necessary…”

“Going to solve the world’s problem all by yourself?” Perkins asked coldly.

“It’s out of the question,” Chabel said. “There is nothing more to be discussed, the decision has been made.”

“We can’t abide by that decision, this is too important—”

“You’re beginning to sound hysterical,” Perkins said. “You see what I said, Professor Chabel, this man can’t be relied on.”

“ I can’t be relied on?” Sam said angrily. “That’s very funny coming from you, Eddie. You’re not big enough for McKay’s shoes and for the general welfare I suggest that you resign. Have you told Professor Chabel that you refused to take action on Nita Mendel’s report about Rand-gamma in dogs-”

“That’s enough, Doctor!” Chabel interrupted angrily.

“I was afraid this would happen,” Perkins said, not looking at Sam. “That was why I warned you. He has made these charges in private and I have ignored them, but now he has made them in public and something must be done.”

“Something will have to be done about you,

Eddie — not me,“ Sam said, controlling his burning anger only with the greatest effort. ”You’ve bungled and you’ve lied to cover it up. You may be a good surgeon but you are a lousy administrator.“

They both ignored him; Chabel turned to the intercom and pressed it. “Would you have the officer come in now?”

It was going too fast for Sam and he did not realize what was happening until the office door opened and the police lieutenant walked in.

“I don’t want to do this,” Chabel said, “but things… events leave me with no alternative. I’m sorry, Sam, and I hope you’ll understand. The lieutenant is not arresting you, it’s just preventative detention. You’ve forced us to do it. There are irresponsible people who might listen to you and infinite harm could be caused if any attempt were made to enter the spaceship.”

Sam stopped listening. He turned and walked toward the door, head lowered and feet dragging, hoping that they had forgotten one thing, and stopped at the open door as the lieutenant took his arm. They had forgotten. Other than the secretary the outer office was empty. The lieutenant, fortyish and slightly balding, had come alone to arrest a doctor who had opinions different from other doctors, a political charge that could be enforced under martial law. Sam turned to face the room behind him.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he said, and kept turning.

They had forgotten that for almost ten years he had been a combat infantryman.

The lieutenant had not been expecting any trouble; he was off balance and unready. Sam levered on the policeman’s wrist, twisting expertly in a punishing armlock that spun the man about and jarred him off balance just as Sam’s lowered shoulder slammed into the middle of his back. He stumbled across the room and smashed into the white-faced Eddie Perkins — Sam had a last glimpse of them falling together as he closed the door and went quickly by the frightened secretary and into the hall.

How long did he have ? The hall was empty and as he ran down it he tried to figure out what to do next. There was no time to panic or just to run, they would be after him within seconds. And no time to wait for an elevator — he pushed through the door to the fire stairs and went down them five at a time. No time to break a leg, either ! With an effort he slowed down, then pushed open the door two floors lower down. There were people here and he walked slowly along the corridor and through the swinging doors into the old wing, to a different bank of elevators.

What next? The policeman would have rushed out into the hall to try and catch him, then returned when he found Sam gone. Neither Perkins nor Chabel would have had the presence of mind to do anything while the lieutenant was out. Then the cop would take charge. They were phoning now, probably to the police guard on the main entrance, then to the other entrances, then finally there would be a hospital-wide alarm. The police would be waiting at his room too; he couldn’t change clothes, so even if he got outside the hospital how far could he get in these whites? The elevator doors opened before him and he stepped forward.

“What have you been doing, Sam — running the mile? You’re all in a sweat.”

Dr. Con Roussell walked into the elevator behind him.

“You should know, Con, we were out in the meat wagon together.”

“I lost track of you after we got to the bridge, what a night it was! What happened?” The doors closed and Roussell punched his floor, the twenty-third Sam noticed, the residential floor above his own.