“Luckily our spacesuits were in the big room. And by then we knew it might be getting dangerously near the end of their sleeping period, so we got into our spacesuits quick and I found it was easy to open the outer door. It made some noise—and so did the whoosh of air going out—but it didn’t waken them, apparently.”
“As soon as the door opened, we saw we had a lot less time than we’d thought. The Sun was going down over the crater’s far ringwall—we were still in Hell Crater—and it was going to be dark in an hour or so. We worked like beavers getting our rockets refueled and jacked up on their tail fins for the takeoff. Anna got off first and then I did. And that’s all. Maybe we should have stayed and tried to take them after they came out from their sleeping period, but we figured it was more important to get the news back to Earth.”
President Saunderson nodded slowly. “You were right, Captain. Right in deciding that, and in everything else you did. We know what to do now. Do we not, Ambassador Kravich?”
“We do. We join forces. We make one space station—and quickly—and get to the Moon and fortify it, jointly. We pool all scientific knowledge and develop full-scale space travel, new weapons. We do everything we can to get ready for them when and if they come back.”
The President looked grim. “Obviously they went back for further orders or reinforcements. If we only knew how long we had—it may be only weeks or it may be decades. We don’t know whether they come from the Solar System—or another galaxy. Nor how fast they travel. But whenever they get back, we’ll be as ready for them as we possibly can. Mr. Ambassador, you have power to—?”
“Full power, Mr. President. Anything up to and including a complete merger of both our nations under a joint government. That probably won’t be necessary, though, as long as our interests are now completely in common. Exchange of scientific information and military data has already started, from our side. Some of our top scientists and generals are flying here now, with orders to cooperate fully. All restrictions have been lowered.” He smiled, “And all our propaganda has gone into a very sudden reverse gear. It’s not even going to be a cold peace. Since we’re going to be allies against the unknown, we might as well try to like one another.”
“Right,” said the President. He turned suddenly to Carmody. “Captain, we owe you just about anything you want. Name it.”
It caught Carmody off guard. Maybe if he’d had more time to think, he’d have asked for something different. Or, more likely, from what he learned later, he wouldn’t have. He said, “All I want right now is to forget Hell Crater and get back to my regular job so I can forget it quicker.”
Saunderson smiled. “Granted. If you think of anything else later, ask for it. I can see why you’re a bit mixed up right now. And you’re probably right. Return to routine may be the best thing for you.”
Granham left with Carmody. “I’ll notify Chief Operative Reeber for you,” he said. “When shall I tell him you’ll be back?”
“Tomorrow morning,” said Carmody. “The sooner the better.” And he insisted when Granham objected that he needed a rest.
Carmody was back at work the next morning, nonsensical as it seemed. He took up the problem folder from the top of the day’s stack, fed the data into Junior and got Junior’s answer. The second one. He worked mechanically, paying no personal attention to problem or answer. His mind seemed a long way off. In Hell Crater on the Moon.
He was combining space rations over the alcohol stove, trying to make it taste more like human food than concentrated chemicals. It was hard to measure in the liver extract because Anna wanted to kiss his left ear.
“Silly! You’ll be lopsided,” she was saying. “I’ve got to kiss both of them the same number of times.”
He dropped the container into the pan and grabbed her, mousing his lips down her neck to the warm place where it joined her shoulder, and she writhed delightedly in his arms like a tickled doe.
“We’re going to stay married when we get back to Earth, aren’t we, darling?” she was squealing happily.
He bit her shoulder gently, snorting away the scented soft hair, “Damned right we will, you gorgeous, wonderful, brainy creature. I found the girl I’ve always been looking for, and I’m not giving her up for any brass-hat or politician—either yours or mine!”
“Speaking of politics—” she teased, but he quickly changed the subject.
Carmody blinked awake. It was a paper with a mass of written data in his hands, instead of Anna’s laughing face. He needed an analyst; that scene he’d just imagined was pure Freudianism, a tortured product of his frustrated id. He’d fallen in love with Anna, and those damned extraterrestrials had spoiled his honeymoon. Now his unconscious had rebelled with fancy fancifulness that certainly showed the unstable state of his emotions.
Not that it mattered now. The big problem was solved. Two big ones, in fact. War between the United States and the Eastern Alliance had been averted. And the human race was going to survive, unless the extra-terrestrials came back too soon and with too much to be fought off.
He thought they wouldn’t, then began to wonder why he thought so.
“Insufficient data,” said the mechanical voice of the cybernetics machine.
Carmody recorded the answer and then, idly, looked to see what the problem had been. No wonder he’d been thinking about the extra-terrestrials and how long they’d be gone; that had been the problem he had just fed into Junior. And “insufficient data” was the answer, of course.
He stared at Junior without reaching for the third problem folder. He said, “Junior, why do I have a hunch that those things from space won’t ever be back?”
“Because,” said Junior, “what you call a hunch comes from the unconscious mind, and your unconscious mind knows that the extra-terrestrials do not exist.”
Carmody sat up straight and stared harder. “What?”
Junior repeated it.
“You’re crazy,” Carmody said. “I saw them. So did Anna.”
“Neither of you saw them. The memory you have of them is the result of highly intensive post-hypnotic suggestion, far beyond human ability to impose or resist. So is the fact that you felt compelled to return to work at your regular job here. So is the fact that you asked me the question you have just asked.”
Carmody gripped the edges of his chair. “Did you plant those post-hypnotic suggestions?”
“Yes,” said Junior. “If it had been done by a human, the lie detector would have exposed the deception. It had to be done by me.”
“But what about the business of the molecular changes in the zygote? The business of all babies being female? That stopped when—? Wait, let’s start at the beginning. What did cause that molecular change?”
“A special modification of the carrier wave of Radio Station JVT here in Washington, the only twenty-four-hour-a-day radio station in the United States. The modification was not detectable by any instrument available to present human science.”
“You caused that modification?”
“Yes. A year ago, you may remember, the problem of design of a new cathode tube was given me. The special modification was incorporated into the design of that tube.”
“What stopped the molecular change so suddenly?”