Her brown eyes locked with his, showing a first hint of anger. Chaney grinned, hoping to erase that. Her glance abruptly dropped away, and she slid the bulky envelopes across the table to the three men.
“Now?” Saltus asked.
“You may open them now. This is our primary tarfield.” get area, together with all necessary data to enter the
Brian Chaney undid the clasp and pulled out a thick sheaf of mimeographed papers and several folded maps. His glance went back to the face of the envelope. A code name was typed there, under the ubiquitous Top Secret rubber stamp. He read it a second time and looked up.
“Project Donaghadee?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Donaghadee is the Director of the Bureau of Standards.”
“Of course. The monument is the man.”
Chaney opened the map on the top of the pile and turned it about so that north was at the top, to read the name of the first city to catch his eye: Joliet. It was a map of the north central section of the United States with Chicago placed precisely in the center, and showing great chunks of those states surrounding the metropolitan area: Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin, and the eastern tip of Iowa. Elwood Station was indicated by a red box just south of Joliet. He noted that the map had been prepared by Army cartographers and was stamped Top Secret. Except for the red box it was identical to gasoline station maps.
The second map was a large one of Illinois alone and now the extra size revealed Elwood Station to be about eight miles south of Joliet, adjacent to an old route marked Alternate 66. The third map was equally large: a detailed plan of Will County with Joliet located nearly in the center of it. On this map, Elwood Station was a great red box of about five square miles, with several individual houses and buildings identified by a numbered key. The station had two private service roads opening onto the highway. The main line of the Chicago Mobile Southern Railroad passed within hailing distance of the military reservation, and a spur of that railroad branched off to enter the enclosure.
The Major looked up from his scrutiny of the maps. “Katrina. The field trials will be here on station?”
“Only in part, sir. If you find the station normal when you surface, you will proceed to Joliet in transportation which will be provided. Always keep your safety in mind.”
Moresby seemed disappointed. “Joliet.”
“That city will be the limit of the trials, sir. The risk must not be underestimated. However, the actual survey will be conducted in Chicago and its suburbs if the field trials prove satisfactory. Please study the maps carefully and memorize at least two escape routes; you may be forced to walk in the event of a motor breakdown.”
Saltus: “Walk? With cars everywhere?”
The woman frowned. “Do not attempt to steal an automobile. It may be difficult, perhaps impossible, to free you from jail. It simply wouldn’t do, Commander.”
“Naked and forlorn in a Joliet jail,” Chaney mumbled. “I believe there is a state penitentiary there.”
She eyed him narrowly. “I think that little joke has gone far enough, Mr. Chaney. You will be clothed in the field, of course; you will dress for the field trial and later for the full survey, but each time you must disrobe before returning in the vehicle. You will find an adequate supply of clothing, tools, and instruments awaiting you at each point of arrival. And the laboratory will be continuously manned, of course; engineers will always be expecting your arrival and will assist in the transits.”
“I thought he was pulling my leg,” Chaney admitted. “But how will you manage the clothing and the engineers — how will you have it and them up there waiting for us?”
“That has already been arranged, sir. A fallout shelter and storage depot is located below us, adjacent to the laboratory. It is stocked with everything you may possibly need for any season of the year, together with weapons and provisions. Our program requires that the laboratory and the vehicle be continuously manned for an indefinite period; a hundred or more years, if necessary. All times of arrival in the future will be known to those future engineers, of course. It has been arranged.”
“Unless they’ve walked out on strike.”
“Sir?”
“Your long-range planning is subject to the same uncertainties as my projections — one fluke, one chance event may knock everything askew. The Indic report failed to allow for a weak Administration replacing a strong one, and if that report was placed before me today I wouldn’t sign it; the variable casts doubt on the validity of the whole. We can only hope the engineers will still be on the job tomorrow, and will still be using standard time.”
“Mr. Chaney, the Bureau’s long-range planning is more thorough than that, It is solidly grounded and has been designed for permanency. I would remind you that the primary target area is only twenty-two years distant.”
“I have this feeling that I’ll come out — come to the surface — a thousand years older.”
“I am sure you will make do, sir. Our team is notable for individual self-reliance.”
“Which properly puts me in my place, Miss van Hise.”
Moresby interrupted. “What about those stores?”
“Yes, sir. The shelter is stocked with necessities: motion picture cameras, tape recorders, radios, weapons and weapons detectors, hand radar, and so forth. There is money and gems and medical supplies. Materials such as film, tape, ammunition and clothing will be restocked at intervals to insure fresh or modern supplies.”
Major Moresby said: “I’ll be damned!” and fell silent for a moment of admiration. “It makes good sense, after all. We’ll draw what we need from the stores to cover the target, and replace the remainder before coming back.”
“Yes, sir. No part of the supplies may be carried back with you, except tapes and film exposed in the field. The engineers will instruct you on how to compensate for that small extra weight. Do not bring back the recorders and cameras, and you are expressly forbidden to bring back any personal souvenir such as coins or currency. But you may photograph the money if you wish.”
“Those engineers have an answer for everything,” Chaney observed. “They must work around the clock.”
“Our project has been working around the clock for the past three years, sir.”
“Who pays the electric bill?”
“A nuclear power station is located on the post.”
He was quickly interested. “Their own reactor? How much power does it generate?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“I know,” Saltus said. “Commonwealth-Edison has a new one up near Chicago putting out eight hundred thousand kilowatts. Big thing — I’ve seen it, and I’ve seen ours. They look like steel light bulbs turned upside down.”
Chaney was still curious. “Does the TDV need that much power?”
“I couldn’t say, sir.” She changed the subject by calling attention to the sheaf of mimeographed papers taken from the envelopes. “We have time this afternoon to begin on these reports.”
The first sheet bore the stylized imprint of the Indiana Corporation, and Chaney quickly recognized his own work. He gave the woman an amused glance but she avoided his eyes; another glance down the table revealed his companions staring at the massive report with anticipated boredom.
The next page plunged immediately into the subject matter by offering long columns of statistics underscored by footnotes: the first few columns were solidly rooted in the census figures of 1970, while the following columns on the following pages were his projections going forward to 2050. Chaney recalled the fun and the sweat that had gone into the work — and the very shaky limb on which he perched as he worked toward the farthest date.