I sat tight. "Look here," I said, "all of you. It's evident that you don't believe me and think this is a put-up job. Well, for the love of heaven, bring in a lie detector! Or use the sleep test. This hearing is a joke."
The chairman banged his gavel. "Stand down, Mr. Nivens."
I stood.
The Old Man had told me that the purpose of the meeting was to report out a joint resolution declaring total emergency and vesting war powers in the President. The chairman asked if they were ready to consider the resolution. One of the newspaper readers looked up long enough to say, "Mr. Chairman, I call for clearing the committee room."
So we were ejected. I said to the Old Man, "It looks bad to this boy."
"Forget it," he said. "The President knew this gambit had failed when he heard the names of the committee."
"Where does that leave us? Do we wait for the slugs to take over Congress, too?"
"The President goes right ahead with a message to Congress and a request for full powers."
"Will he get them?"
The Old Man screwed up his face. "Frankly, I don't think he stands a chance."
The joint session was secret, of course, but we were present-direct orders of the President, probably. The Old Man and I were on that little balcony business back of the Speaker's rostrum. They opened it with full rigamarole and then went through the ceremony of appointing two members from each house to notify the President.
I suppose he was right outside for he came in at once, escorted by the delegation. His guards were with him-but they were all our men.
Mary was with him, too. Somebody set up a folding chair for her, right by the President. She fiddled with a notebook and handed papers to him, pretending to be a secretary. But the disguise ended there; she had it turned on full blast and looked like Cleopatra on a warm night-and as out of place as a bed in church. I could feel them stir; she got as much attention as the President did.
Even the President noticed it. You could see that he wished that he had left her at home, but it was too late to do anything about it without greater embarrassment.
You can bet I noticed her. I caught her eye-and she gave me a long, slow, sweet smile. I grinned like a collie pup until the Old Man dug me in the ribs. Then I settled back and tried to behave but I was happy.
The President made a reasoned explanation of the situation, why we knew it to be so and what had to be done. It was as straightforward and rational as an engineering report, and about as moving. He simply stated facts. He put aside his notes at the end. "This is such a strange and terrible emergency, so totally beyond any previous experience, that I must ask very broad powers to cope with it. In some areas, martial law must be declared. Grave invasions of civil guarantees will be necessary, for a time. The right of free movement must be abridged. The right to be secure from arbitrary search and seizure must give way to the right of safety for everyone. Because any citizen, no matter how respected or how loyal, may be the unwilling servant of these secret enemies, all citizens must face some loss of civil rights and personal dignities until this plague is killed.
"With utmost reluctance, I ask that you authorize these necessary steps." With that he sat down.
You can feel a crowd. They were made uneasy, but he did not carry them. The president of the Senate took the gavel and looked at the Senate majority leader; it had been programmed for him to propose the emergency resolution.
Something slipped. I don't know whether the floor leader shook his head or signaled, but he did not take the floor. Meanwhile the delay was getting awkward and there were cries of, "Mister President!" and "Order!"
The Senate president passed over several others and gave the flow to a member of his own party. I recognized the man-Senator Gottlieb, a wheelhorse who would vote for his own lynching if it were on his party's program. He started out by yielding to none in his respect for the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and, probably, the Grand Canyon. He pointed modestly to his own long and faithful service and spoke well of America's place in history.
I thought he was beating the drum while the boys worked out a new shift-when I suddenly realized that his words were adding up to meaning: he was proposing to suspend the order of business and get on with the impeachment and trial of the President of the United States!
I think I tumbled to it as quickly as anyone; the senator had his proposal so decked out in ritualistic verbiage that it was a wonder that anyone noticed what he was actually saying. I looked at the Old Man.
The Old Man was looking at Mary.
She was looking back at him with an expression of extreme urgency.
The Old Man snatched a pad out of his pocket, scrawled something, wadded it up, and threw it down to Mary. She caught it, opened it, and read it-and passed it to the President.
He was sitting, relaxed and easy-as if one of his oldest friends were not at that moment tearing his name to shreds and, with it, the safety of the Republic. He put on his old-fashioned specs and read the note. He then glanced unhurriedly around at the Old Man and lifted his eyebrows. The Old Man nodded.
The President nudged the Senate president, who, at the President's gesture, bent over him. The President and he exchanged whispers.
Gottlieb was still rumbling along about his deep sorrow, but that there came times when old friendship must give way to a higher duty and therefore-The Senate president banged his gavel. "If the senator please!"
Gottlieb looked startled and said, "I do not yield."
"The senator is not asked to yield. At the request of the President of the United States, because of the importance of what you are saying, the senator is asked to come to the rostrum to speak."
Gottlieb looked puzzled but there was nothing else he could do. He walked slowly toward the front of the house.
Mary's chair blocked the little stairway up to the rostrum. Instead of getting quietly out of the way, she bumbled around, turning and picking up the chair, so that she got even more in the way. Gottlieb stopped and she brushed against him. He caught her arm, as much to steady himself as her. She spoke to him and he to her, but no one else could hear the words. Finally they got around each other and he went on to the front of the rostrum.
The Old Man was quivering like a dog in point. Mary looked up at him and nodded. The Old Man said, "Take him!"
I was over that rail in a flying leap, as if I had been wound up like a crossbow. I landed on Gottlieb's shoulders.
I heard the Old Man shout, "Gloves, son! Gloves!" I did not stop for them. I split the senator's jacket with my bare hands and I could see the slug pulsing under his shirt. I tore the shirt away and anybody could see it.
Six stereo cameras could not have recorded what happened in the next few seconds. I slugged Gottlieb back of the ear to stop his thrashing. Mary was sitting on his legs. The President was standing over me and pointing, while shouting, "There! There! Now you can all see." The Senate president was standing stupefied, waggling his gavel.
The Congress was just a mob, men yelling and women screaming. Above me the Old Man was shouting orders to the presidential guards as if he were standing on a bridge.
We had this in our favor; doors were locked and there were no armed and disciplined men present except the Old Man's own boys. Sergeants-at-arms, surely-but what are they? One elderly Congressman pulled a hogleg out of his coat that must have been a museum piece, but that was a mere incident.
Between the guns of the guards and the pounding of the gavel something like order was restored. The President started to talk. He told them that an amazing accident had given them a chance to see the true nature of the enemy and he suggested that they file past and see for themselves one of the titans from Saturn's largest moon. Without waiting for their consent, he pointed to the front row and told them to come up.