Olham stared into his friend's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Both men were staring at him steadily, rigid and grim with fright. Olham felt dizzy. His head ached and spun.
"I don't understand," he murmured.
At that moment the shoot car left the ground and rushed up, heading into space. Below them the Project fell away, smaller and smaller, disappearing. Olham shut his mouth.
"We can wait a little," Peters said. "I want to ask him some questions first."
Olham gazed dully ahead as the bug rushed through space.
"The arrest was made all right," Peters said into the vidscreen. On the screen the features of the security chief showed. "It should be a load off everyone's mind."
"Any complications?"
"None. He entered the bug without suspicion. He didn't seem to think my presence was too unusual."
"Where are you now?"
"On our way out, just inside the protec-bubble. We're moving at a maximum speed. You can assume that the critical period is past. I'm glad the takeoff jets in this craft were in good working order. If there had been any failure at that point --"
"Let me see him," the security chief said. He gazed directly at Olham where he sat, his hands in his lap, staring ahead.
"So that's the man." He looked at Olham for a time. Olham said nothing. At last the chief nodded to Peters. "All right. That's enough." A faint trace of disgust wrinkled his features. "I've seen all I want. You've done something that will be remembered for a long time. They're preparing some sort of citation for both of you."
"That's not necessary," Peters said.
"That's not necessary," Peters said.
"There is some chance, but not too much. According to my understanding it requires a verbal key phrase. In any case we'll have to take the risk."
"I'll have the Moon base notified you're coming."
"No." Peters shook his head. "I'll land the ship outside, beyond the base. I don't want it in jeopardy."
"Just as you like." The chief's eyes flickered as he glanced again at Olham. Then his image faded. The screen blanked.
Olham shifted his gaze to the window. The ship was already through the protec-bubble, rushing with greater and greater speed all the time. Peters was in a hurry; below him, rumbling under the floor, the jets were wide-open. They were afraid, hurrying frantically, because of him.
Next to him on the seat, Nelson shifted uneasily. "I think we should do it now," he said. "I'd give anything if we could get it over with."
"Take it easy," Peters said. "I want you to guide the ship for a while so I can talk to him."
He slid over beside Olham, looking into his face. Presently he reached out and touched him gingerly, on the arm and then on the cheek.
Olham said nothing. If I could let Mary know, he thought again. If I could find some way of letting her know. He looked around the ship. How? The vidscreen? Nelson was sitting by the board, holding the gun. There was nothing he could do. He was caught, trapped.
But why?
"Listen," Peters said, "I want to ask you some questions. You know where we're going. We're moving Moonward. In an hour we'll land on the far side, on the desolate side. After we land you'll be turned over immediately to a team of men waiting there. Your body will be destroyed at once. Do you understand that?" He looked at his watch. "Within two hours your parts will be strewn over the landscape. There won't be anything left of you."
Olham struggled out of his lethargy. "Can't you tell me --"
"Certainly, I'll tell you." Peters nodded. "Two days ago we received a report that an Outspace ship had penetrated the protec-bubble. The ship let off a spy in the form of a humanoid robot. The robot was to destroy a particular human being and take his place."
Peters looked calmly at Olham.
"Inside the robot was a U-Bomb. Our agent did not know how the bomb was to be detonated, but he conjectured that it might be by a particular spoken phrase, a certain group of words. The robot would live the life of the person he killed, entering into his usual activities, his job, his social life. He had been constructed to resemble that person. No one would know the difference."
Olham's face went sickly chalk.
"The person whom the robot was to impersonate was Spence Olham, a high-ranking official at one of the research Projects. Because this particular Project was approaching crucial stage, the presence of an animate bomb, moving toward the center of the Project --"
Olham stared down at his hands. "But I'm Olham."
"Once the robot had located and killed Olham it was a simple matter to take over his life. The robot was released from the ship eight days ago. The substitution was probably accomplished over the last weekend, when Olham went for a short walk in the hills."
"But I'm Olham." He turned to Nelson, sitting at the controls. "Don't you recognize me? You've known me for twenty years. Don't you remember how we went to college together?" He stood up,. "You and I were at the University. We had the same room." He went toward Nelson.
"Stay away from me!" Nelson snarled.
"Listen. Remember our second year? Remember that girl? What was her name --" He rubbed his forehead. "The one with the dark hair. The one we met over at Ted's place."
"Stop!" Nelson waved the gun frantically. "I don't want to hear any more. You killed him! You. . . machine."
Olham looked at Nelson. "You're wrong. I don't know what happened, but the robot never reached me. Something must have gone wrong. Maybe the ship crashed." He turned to Peters. "I'm Olham. I know it. No transfer was made. I'm the same as I've always been."
Olham looked at Nelson. "You're wrong. I don't know what happened, but the robot never reached me. Something must have gone wrong. Maybe the ship crashed." He turned to Peters. "I'm Olham. I know it. No transfer was made. I'm the same as I've always been."
Neither Peters nor Nelson spoke.
"I am Olham," he said again. "I know I am. But I can't prove it."
"The robot," Peters said, "would be unaware that he was not the real Spence Olham. He would become Olham in mind as well as body. He was given an artificial memory system, false recall. He would look like him, have his memories, his thoughts and interests, perform his job.
"But there would be one difference. Inside the robot is a U-Bomb, ready to explode at the trigger phrase." Peters moved a little away. That's the one difference. That's why we're taking you to the Moon. They'll disassemble you and remove the bomb. Maybe it will explode, but it won't matter, not there."
Olham sat down slowly.
"We'll be there soon," Nelson said.
He lay back, thinking frantically, as the ship dropped slowly down. Under them was the pitted surface of the Moon, the endless expanse of ruin. What could he do? What would save him?
"Get ready," Peters said.
In a few minutes he would be dead. Down below he could see a tiny dot, a building of some kind. There were men in the building, the demolition team, waiting to tear him to bits. They would rip him open, pull off his arms and legs, break him apart. When they found no bomb they would be surprised; they would know, but it would be too late.
Olham looked around the small cabin. Nelson was still holding the gun. There was no chance there. If he could get to a doctor, have an examination made -- that was the only way. Mary could help him. He thought frantically, his mind racing. Only a few minutes, just a little time left. If he could contact her, get word to her some way.
"Easy," Peters said. The ship came down slowly, bumping on the rough ground. There was silence.
"Listen," Olham said thickly. "I can prove I'm Spence Olham. Get a doctor. Bring him here --"