Warning from the Stars | Page 6

connections,
then fresh air and familiar sounds rushed in on him as the helmet was
taken away.
Summerford's thin, intelligent face was opposite his.
"Doc! Are you all right?" he was asking sharply. For once, there was no
superciliousness in his voice.
"I'm fine," Forster said heavily. "I--I've got a headache. Stayed in here
too long, I suppose."
"What's in the box?" Summerford asked.
The way he asked told Forster at once that the youngster knew nothing
about it.
"Er--just some half-baked idea out of the Pentagon. Some colonel
trying to justify his existence." He clutched the box to him as though
Summerford might try to take it away. "The tank's all yours."
He turned and clambered out of the chamber. He put the box down on
the concrete floor, and climbed out of the pressure suit, watching the
box all the time. It seemed to gleam up at him, as though it had eyes,
full of silent menace.
He realized vaguely that Summerford was standing in front of him
again, looking anxious.
"Are you quite sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," Forster said, hardly recognizing his own voice.

He picked up the box and stumbled out, heading for his office.
When he walked in, his secretary was answering the line fitted with a
scrambler, which connected directly with the Pentagon.
"General Morganson," she said, handing him the receiver.
Forster took the receiver, sat down at his desk and took a deep breath,
fighting hard to regain his self control.
"Forster," he said into the mouthpiece when the office door closed
behind the girl.
"Forster! What the dickens has happened to Preston? My driver met the
train here this morning, but there was no sign of him. But the Pullman
porter checked him in last night, and we found all his gear and papers
in his compartment!"
"He left here in plenty of time to catch the train, General," Forster
heard himself say. "He took the train to get a night's rest." He realized
how irrelevant the last statement was only after he had made it.
The General was talking again ... important meeting with the Joint
Chiefs ... whole briefing team was being held up ... he'd reported it to
the C.I.A. as a precautionary measure....
* * * * *
Forster could see the words on the roll, the roll that wasn't, as though
they were engraved on his eye-retinas: As a beginning, and to prove
this isn't just a bit of hocus-pocus, one of the people at your Center is
due to leave for here any time now.
"General," Forster broke in hoarsely. "I've got some very important
information which you must have. I'll leave by heliplane right away."
He replaced the phone receiver in its cradle, wondering how convincing
he would be able to make his story. At least, even if he didn't have
Bentley's letter, he had the container. That should help.

But when he looked across the desk, he saw that it too had disappeared,
without a trace.
* * * * *
General Morganson was the newest product of the Atomic Age, half
soldier, half scientist--shrewd and perceptive, an intellectual giant.
He listened carefully, without comment or change of expression, as
Forster doggedly went through his story in chronological order.
Half way through, he held up his hand and started pushing buttons on
the console built into his desk. Within a few moments men began filing
into the room, and sat down around Forster.
Then the general motioned to the clerk seated in the corner by a tape
recorder.
"Gentlemen, listen to this playback and then I'll have Dr. Forster here
go on from there."
What was left of Forster's confidence leaked away as he heard his own
diffident voice filling the room again. It was like being awake in the
middle of a weird dream.
But when the tape recorder hissed into silence, he went on, staring
straight ahead of him in quiet desperation.
When he ended his story, there was silence for a moment. Everyone sat
motionless.
Then Morganson looked up and around.
"Well gentlemen? Mr. Bates, C.I.A. first."
This was no longer a story told by one man; it had become a problem, a
situation to be evaluated objectively.
"Well, sir ... the only part of the thing I can comment on at this point is

the stuff about O'Connor and Walters. That checks. They both
disappeared without a trace. It was treated as a maximum security
situation, and we did give out the story they had been assigned to
special duty." He glanced briefly at Forster. "Up until now, we assumed
that only the directors at Aiken and Oak Ridge knew the real
situation--outside of the Atomic Energy Commission and C.I.A., of
course. This represents a very serious leak--or...." His voice trailed
away.