Гарри Гаррисон - The Jupiter Plague

“Out through the Narrows and the Lower Bay, then east past Coney Island and in through Rock-away Inlet. We pick our way through Jamaica Bay and come ashore on the end of the airport runway where it sticks out into the water.”

“There’s only one thing wrong,” Sam said, tapping the map. “It must be over thirty miles going this way, we’ll be all night in a small boat finding our way through those inlets and marshes.”

“No boat, we use a hoverjeep. With all the equipment we’re taking it will only hold four, but that’s all we need since you, I and Haber can take care of any trouble we run into. All right, we’re at the airport now. Haber flew over it in a chopper earlier today — we found him a legitimate excuse. He took pictures and he kept his eyes open. Haber.”

The lieutenant tapped the map where the shallow water of the bay touched the edge of the airport. “There are no guards here at all, but in the blown-up prints we found ultraviolet trespass alarms and infrared detectors. Getting by them will be no problem. Trouble starts here, around the ‘Pericles,’ more detectors and a barbed-wire fence — patrolled by armed police. The real difficulty will be getting by those police guards without raising the alarm. I assume that they will… that is, we will want to show discretion about injuring them?” He looked up at General Burke, then glanced quickly away.

There was a lengthening silence as the general looked impassively at the map: someone’s shoe scraped as he moved his feet and there was a muted cough.

“We finally come to that, dont‘ we,” General Burke said quietly. “We’ve all fought in a lot of campaigns, with your exception, Dr. Yasumura, and in Some odd corners of the world. The Fifth Airborne is an American division so therefore, in keeping with UN policy, we have never been in active service in North America before. We’ve killed when we had to, when killing was the only way to enforce the peace, and while we have perhaps regretted doing this, we know that many times it has been the only choice. Now we’re serving in our own country and the enemy is a handful of average cops who are just following orders on a dull guard detail. I’m beginning to appreciate the UN dictum of never fighting where you’re recruiting. All right. Keep the safeties on your blackjacks, but if it comes down to a matter of you or the other guy I want it to be you. We have too much at stake here. Is that understood?”

“It may not be that bad,” Sam said. “I’ll bring a pressure hypo of Denilin; it’s a quick-action sedative that will put a man under in seconds.”

“You bring your needle, Sam, and we’ll give you every chance to use it. Let’s hope it works out that way, and if it doesn’t I don’t want any of you to forget what you have to do. We pass the guards, get through the wire and reach the spaceship— then what? How do we get in Dr. Yasumura?”

“Through the air lock, there is no other way. This ship was built to stand up to Jupiter’s gravity and atmosphere and there is very little short of an A-bomb that will make a dent in it.” He picked up the photograph of the “Pericles” made that morning. “The police cut away the ladder when they welded that plate over the lock — do I hear any suggestions how we can get up those twenty feet from the ground?”

There were a half-dozen officers in the room, men from General Burke’s staff, seriously considering the problem of illegal entry of the spaceship. Sam knew that none of them questioned the general’s decision to enter it by force; they just did as they were directed with a loyalty given to few officers. Perhaps they wouldn’t walk off a cliff if the general demanded it, but they would certainly follow him if he went first.

“What’s the hull made of?” a graying captain of engineers asked.

“A specially developed titanium alloy; it contains no iron.”

“Then magnets are out. Our longest folding ladder is just fifteen feet—”

“Then bolt an extension on the end,” General Burke interrupted. “We have very little time left, let’s get on with this. We’re on the ladder now, standing in front of that plate they welded on — how do we get through that?”

“No problem, General,” the engineer said. “You’ll carry one of the portable lasers we use for cutting heavy metal in the field. I understand that plate is made of mild steel, the laser will cut it like butter.”

“Now we’re moving along; we’re in the air lock and that’s where you take over, Dr. Yasumura.”

“I will need tools, a multitester, portable scope and some things like that. I’ve talked this over with your engineers and they’ll give me everything I need. There are only one or two ways that Commander Rand could have disconnected the controls so that the inner door will not open, and once I crack into the control box there I’ll find out and open it up. Once we’re through that door we’ll go through the ship from bow to stern until we find what Rand meant when he wrote sick in ship . And I’ll find the log, see how the ship handled during the landing, the equations—”

“Just try to control your technical enthusiasm until you get there, Yasumura, we’re not in the ship yet. I suggest you get what gear you need from the engineers so it can be loaded into the jeep. Lieutenant Haber will go with you to draw the antidetector units. Sergeant Bennett will get some coffee and sandwiches up here. Dismissed.”

The first troubles came fifteen minutes later.

“Sorry, sir, but we can’t get all the equipment into the hoverjeep,” Haber reported.

“Lieutenant, you’re an idiot. Stuff it in, boy— stuff it in!”

“Yes, sir. What I mean is we can’t get in the equipment and four passengers and get the thing off the ground. There just isn’t enough power.”

“We’ll take two jeeps then, and if we can we’ll squeeze in another man to help carry that gear.”

“That will be me, sir,” Sergeant Bennett said.

“Agreed. Get into night fatigues and bring a can of blackface.”

Sodium vapor lights sliced the darkness of the yard, illuminating the falling rain with their crackling blue glow and casting black shadows under the cigar-box bodies of the hoverjeeps that rumbled and whistled noisily as they floated a yard above the ground, supported on the cushion of air blasted downward by their fans.

“Drop them!” General Burke shouted. Like the others of the raiding party he was dressed in black coveralls and dark boots with a black beret pulled low over his hair. Their faces, hands and visible skin were soot-colored, without highlights, stained by the blackface cream.

“Engine warm, tank full, radio and radar tested, sir,” the driver of the first hoverjeep said, switching off and climbing out. “She’ll lift, hover and do full speed with this load you’re carrying.”

“Let’s move then. I’ll drive the lead jeep, Sam and Yasumura come with me. Haber, take the second and the sergeant will ride shotgun for you. Stay close behind me and be ready to turn southwest as soon as we see the docks on the Brooklyn shore. We’re going to start out of here going due east so keep your eye on the compass; I’ll be using radar but the compass is all you’ll have, that and the sight of my rear end going away from you, so don’t get lost. We’re going to put on a bit of a show in case the police are using radar too. There are five copters going out with us and they’ll fly low and we’ll go at maximum altitude so all the blips will merge. When we get in the radar shadow of the shore installations we’ll drop down and cut out while the copters fly around for a while. Any questions? All right then, here we go.”

The whistling of the fans was drowned out as the flight of copters came over, dropping low. The general signaled and all the lights went out at the same moment; watery darkness filled the yard and the hoverjeeps were invisible as they drifted across the ground and slipped down the ramp to the water. The riding lights of the copters vanished into the falling rain, their unseen companions moving beneath them.