The Worlds of Robert A. Heinlein

away, once you’ve talked it over with Powell.”

“I will.”

“That’s the most important thing we’ve got to worry about, Doc. We’ve got

to have unity, and one plan, from coast to coast. I look forward to a day

when there will be an American assigned, by name, to each and every one of

them. Then at a set time-zzzt!” He drew a thumb across his throat.

McCracken nodded. “Could be. It will be. How long do you think it will take

us?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think about ‘how long’. Two years, five years, ten

years — maybe a century. That’s not the point. The only question is whether

or not there are any guts left in America.” He glanced out where the fifth

person to leave was awaiting a signal from Carter, who in turn was awaiting

a signal from Art, hidden out where he could watch for the helicopter.

“Those people will stick.”

“I’m sure of that.”

Presently Morgan added, “There’s one thing this has taught me: You can’t

enslave a free man. Only person can do that to a man is himself. No, sir —

you can’t enslave a free man. The most you can do is kill him.”

“That’s a fact, Ed.”

“It is. Got a cigarette, Doc?”

“It won’t do you any good, Ed.”

“It won’t do me any harm, either — now, will it?”

“Well, not much” McCracken unregretfully gave him his last and watched him

smoke it.

Later, Morgan said, Dad’s ready for you, Captain. So long.”

“So long. Don’t forget. Half a pill at a time. Drink all the water you

want, but don’t take your blankets off, no matter how hot you get.”

“Half a pill it is. Good luck.”

“I’ll have Ted check on you tomorrow.”

Morgan shook his head. “That’s too soon. Not for a couple of days at

least.”

McCracken smiled. “I’ll decide that, Ed. You just keep yourself wrapped up.

Good luck.” He withdrew to where Carter waited for him. “You go ahead, Dad.

I’ll bring up the rear. Signal Art to start.”

Carter hesitated. “Tell me straight, Doc. What kind of shape is he in?”

McCracken studied Carter’s face, then said in a low voice, “I give him

about two hours.”

“I’ll stay behind with him.”

“No, Dad, you’ll carry out your orders.” Seeing the distress in the old

man’s eyes, he added, “Don’t you Worry about Morgan. A free man can take

care of himself. Now get moving.”

“Yes, sir.”

Blowups Happen

“PUT DOWN that wrench!”

The man addressed turned slowly around and faced the speaker. His

expression was hidden by a grotesque helmet, part of a heavy, leaden armor

which shielded his entire body, but the tone of voice in which he answered

showed nervous exasperation.

“What the hell’s eating you, Doc?” He made no move to replace the tool in

question.

They faced each other like two helmeted, arrayed fencers, watching for an

opening. The first speaker’s voice came from behind his mask a shade higher

in key and more peremptory in tone. “You heard me, Harper. Put down that

wrench at once, and come away from that ‘trigger.’ Erickson!”

A third armored figure came around the shield which separated the uranium

bomb proper from the control room in which the first two stood. “Whatcha

want, Doc?”

“Harper is relieved from watch. You take over as engineer-of-the-watch.

Send for the stand-by engineer.”

“Very well.” His voice and manner were phlegmatic, as he accepted the

situation without comment. The atomic engineer, whom he had just relieved,

glanced from one to the other, then carefully replaced the wrench in its

rack.

“Just as you say, Dr. Silard — but send for your relief too. I shall demand

an immediate hearing!” Harper swept indignantly out, his lead-sheathed

boots clumping on the floor plates.

Dr. Silard waited unhappily for the ensuing twenty minutes until his own

relief arrived. Perhaps he had been hasty. Maybe he was wrong in thinking

that Harper had at last broken under the strain of tending the most

dangerous machine in the world — an atomic power plant. But if he had made

a mistake, it had to be on the safe side — slips must not happen in this

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