matter.”
They breezed in, Harper in the van. He commenced talking at once, oblivious
to the Superintendent’s morose preoccupation. ‘We’ve got it, chief, we’ve
got it — and it all checks out to the umpteenth decimal!”
“You’ve got what? Speak English.”
Harper grinned. He was enjoying his moment of triumph, and was stretching
it out to savor it. “Chief, do you remember a few weeks back when I asked
for an additional allotment — a special one without specifying how I was
going to spend it?”
“Yes. Come on — get to the point.”
“You kicked at first, but finally granted it. Remember? Well, we’ve got
something to show for it, all tied up in pink ribbon. It’s the greatest
advance in radioactivity since Hahn split the nucleus. Atomic fuel, chief,
atomic fuel, safe, concentrated, and controllable. Suitable for rockets,
for power plants, for any damn thing you care to use it for.”
King showed alert interest for the first time. “You mean a power source
that doesn’t require the bomb?”
“The bomb? Oh, no, I didn’t say that. You use the bomb to make the fuel,
then you use the fuel anywhere and anyhow you like, with something like
ninety-two percent recovery of the energy of the bomb. But you could junk
the mercury-steam sequence, if you wanted to.
King’s first wild hope of a way out of his dilemma was dashed; he subsided.
“Go ahead. Tell me about it.”
“Well — It’s a matter of artificial radioactives. Just before I asked for
that special research allotment, Erickson and I — Dr. Lentz had a finger in
it, too — found two isotopes of a radioactive that seemed to be mutually
antagonistic. That is, when we goosed ’em in the presence of each other
they gave up their latent energy all at once — blew all to hell. The
important point is, we were using just a gnat’s whisker of mass of each —
the reaction didn’t require a big mass like the bomb to maintain it.”
“I don’t see,” objected King, “how that could — ”
“Neither do we, quite — but it works. We’ve kept it quiet until we were
sure. We checked on what we had, and we found a dozen other fuels. Probably
we’ll be able to tailor-make fuels for any desired purpose. But here it
is.” Harper handed King a bound sheaf of typewritten notes which he had
been carrying under the arm. “That’s your copy. Look it over.”
King started to do so. Lentz joined him, after a look that was a silent
request for permission, which Erickson had answered with his only verbal
contribution, “Sure Doc.”
As King read, the troubled feeling of an acutely harassed executive left
him. His dominant personality took charge, that of the scientist. He
enjoyed the controlled and cerebral ecstasy of the impersonal seeker for
the elusive truth. The emotions felt in the throbbing thalamus were
permitted only to form a sensuous obbligato for the cold flame of cortical
activity. For the time being, he was sane, more nearly completely sane than
most men ever achieve at any time.
For a long period there was only an occasional grunt, the clatter of turned
pages, a nod of approval. At last he put it down.
“It’s the stuff,” he said. “You’ve done it, boys. It’s great; I’m proud of
you.”
Erickson glowed a bright pink and swallowed. Harper’s small, tense figure
gave the ghost of a wriggle, reminiscent of a wire-haired terrier receiving
approval. “That fine, chief. We’d rather hear you say that than get the
Nobel Prize.”
“I think you’ll probably get it. However — ” the proud light in his eyes
died down — “I’m not going to take any action in this matter.”
“Why not, chief?” Harper’s tone was bewildered.
“I’m being retired. My successor will take over in the near future; this is
too big a matter to start just before a change in administration.”
“You being retire! Blazes!”
“About the same reason I took you off the bomb — at least, the Directors
think so.”
“But that’s nonsense! You were right to take me off the bomb; I was getting
jumpy. But you’re another matter — we all depend on you.”