Гарри Гаррисон - The Jupiter Plague

“Then let’s get it out where it can do some good. I want a phone and I want to know where the elevator is — in that order.”

“Yes, sir, General,” the engineer said, twisting together the ends of a severed wire and reaching for another one. “You’ll find them both down there. Follow the bulkhead that way and out the first door; they’re in the corridor outside. Send someone back to let me know what happens. I’ll stick here and wire up this heavyweight Jovian, then see if I can get him to talk some more.”

General Burke called the phone that was located on the desk nearest to the air lock and after tapping his fingers for an impatient thirty seconds the screen cleared as Lieutenant Haber answered. “Report,” the general snapped.

“Quiet now, sir. The firing stopped some time ago but they have the lights on and the opening ranged and they must have a scope on it. I tried to take a look awhile ago and they almost blew my head off. So far they haven’t tried to get in.”

“Hold there, Haber, and keep under cover. I’ll contact them so we can get out of this ship. It looks as if we may have a cure for the plague but we’re going to have to get to a hospital to prove it.” He rang off before the startled officer could answer. “I’m going up to the control room, Sam. Tell Yasumura that he is to join Haber at the lock as soon as he has finished the wiring job and make him understand that it is important. Then join me in control.”

By the time Sam had delivered the message— and convinced the engineer that now was not the time to talk to the Jovian — General Burke had found the way back to the control room and was shouting into the radiophone. He had cleaned most of the blackout cream from his face so there would be no doubt of his identity. When Sam came in he waved him toward the phone.

“You know Chabel of World Health, you talk to him. He doesn’t believe a word I say.” Professor Chabel stared out of the screen at them, white-faced and trembling.

“How can I believe what you say, General Burke, or whatever Dr. Bertolli tells me, after what has happened? The Emergency Council is in session right now and do you know what they’re considering—? I don’t dare say it on an open circuit…”

“I know what they’re considering,” Sam said, in as controlled a voice as possible. “They want to start dropping H-bombs and atomize Zone-Red— New York City and all the area within a hundred miles of it. But they don’t have to do this, there is a chance now that we can stop Rand’s disease.” He held up the capsule. “I think this contains the cure and there is only one way to find out, get it to Bellevue as soon as we can.”

“No!” Chabel said, his voice quavering. “If you do not leave the ship there is a chance that the Emergency Council will not take any desperate measures. You will stay where you are.”

“I would like to talk to Dr. McKay, I can explain to him what we have found.”

“Impossible. Dr. McKay is still ill after his heart attack, in any case I would not allow you to speak to him…” Sam reached out and broke the circuit, then signaled for the operator to put in a call to Dr. McKay.

“Damned old woman,” the general said angrily.

“Hysterical. Does he think that / am lying?”

The call signal chimed but it was Eddie Perkins, not McKay, who appeared on the screen.

“ You !” he said, taut with anger. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble? I heard what you have done at the airport, you must be insane—”

“Eddie!” Sam broke in, “Shut up. I’m not going to feud with you any more. This is the only chance you are going to have your entire life to make up for some ot the mistakes you made. Help me now and the matter will end there. I must talk to Dr. McKay, General Burke here will tell you why. General Burke of the United Nations Army — you recognize him — and you can believe him.”

“It is very simple. Dr. Perkins. We are in the ‘Pericles’ now and we have discovered the cause of Rand’s disease. Dr. Bertolli here has the serum that will cure it. We must leave this ship and go to Bellevue Hospital at once. We are being stopped from doing this and Dr. McKay is the only man who can help us. Now, if you will connect us…”

He said it in a matter-of-fact way, simplifying the situation and using the crisp tones of command that admitted no other choice. Sam looked at Eddie Perkins, who sat silently chewing his lip in agony, and realized for the first time that Perkins was without malice, he was just in a situation that was too big for him, that he was unequipped to handle and was too afraid to admit that he had been doing badly.

“Put us through, Eddie,” Sam said softly.

“McKay is a sick man.”

“He’ll be dead like the rest of us soon if Rand’s disease isn’t stopped. Put the call through, Eddie…”

Perkins made a convulsive movement toward the switch and his image faded from the screen. They waited tensely, not looking at each other, while the hold signal swirled its endless circles. When McKay’s face finally appeared on the screen Sam let out his breath: he had not realized that he had been holding it.

“What is it, Sam?” McKay asked, sitting up in a hospital bed, looking strained and gaunt but still alert. He listened intently while Sam explained what they had found in the ship and what had been done, nodding in agreement.

“I believe it, simply because I never believed in Rand’s disease. It has acted in an impossible manner from the first. Now this is completely understandable if it was a manufactured and designed disease. But why — no, never mind that for now. What is it you want me to do?”

“We want to get this liquid to the team at Bellevue at once, but we’re trapped in this ship. Professor Chabel’s orders.”

“Nonsense! I can talk to one or two people and do something about those orders. I was placed in command of the team to discover a treatment for Rand’s disease, and if you have one there I want it now .” He rang off.

“Game old boy,” the general said. “I hope his heart lasts until he gets some action out of those mumble-brained politicians. Come on, Sam, let’s get down to the air lock and see if those chuckle-heads will let us out.”

Lieutenant Haber and Stanley Yasumura were resting against the corridor wall, well away from the line of fire through the partially opened door.

“Stay where you are,” General Burke said as Haber started to struggle up. “Anything to report?”

“Negative, sir, unchanged since I talked to you last.”

“We want to open that outer door again since we should be getting out of here soon. Is that junction box in the line of fire?”

“I don’t think so, sir. Not if you were to stay flat on the floor until you got to it, but I think if you stood up you could be seen from outside.”

“Tell me what has to be done, will you, Stanley,” Sam said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I would love to,” the engineer said, biting his teeth together hard to control their growing tendency to chatter, “but it would take too long and you would take too long doing it and — I’m the one who has to do it so let me get going before my nerve fails completely. Just pay this wire out to me as I go. And wish me luck.”

He dropped flat at the open inner door, hesitated just a moment, then crawled through the opening. Nothing happened as he made his way around the wall to the open junction box, nor did he draw any attention even when he had to stand up to connect the wires. But on the return journey he must have been seen because bullets drummed on the outer door and the hull and some found the tiny opening and ricocheted around the air lock. Yasumura dived through into the hall and lay there exhausted but unharmed.