The twin keys were fitted into the locks of the operations door and turned. A bell rang somewhere below as the door eased open.
“Saltus! Hello, down there — Saltus!”
The hurtful sound hit him with near physical impact. The sound was something like a massive rubber band snapped against his eardrums, something like a hammer smashing into a block of compressed air. It struck and rebounded with a tremulous sigh. The vehicle kicked back following its time path to home base. The sound hurt.
Chaney jumped through the door and pulled it shut behind him.
“Saltus?”
A sandy-haired muscular figure stepped through the open doorway of the fallout shelter below.
“Where the hell have you been, civilian?”
Chaney went down the steps two or three at a time. Arthur Saltus waited at the bottom with a handful of film.
“Out there — out there,” Chaney retorted. “Knocking around this forsaken place, staring through the fences, sniffing at the cracks and peeping in windows. I couldn’t find a spoor. I think we’re gone from here, Commander — dismissed and departed, the barracks padlocked. I hope we get a decent bonus.”
“Civilian, have you been drinking?”
“No — but I could use one. What’s in the stores?”
“You’ve been drinking,” Saltus said flatly. “So what happened to you? We looked all over town.”
“You didn’t look in the library.”
“Oh, hell! You would, and we didn’t. Research stuff. What did you think of 1980, mister?”
“I don’t like it, and I’ll be liking it even less when I’m living in it. That milquetoast was re-elected and the country is going to hell in a handbasket. A fortyeight state sweep! Did you see the election results?”
“I saw them, and by this time William has passed the news to Seabrooke and Seabrooke is calling the President. He’ll celebrate tonight. But I’m not going to vote for him, mister — I know I didn’t vote for him. And if I’m living Stateside then — now — I’m going to choose one of those three states that voted for the other fellow, old What’s-his-name, the actor fellow.”
“Alaska, Hawaii, and Utah.”
“What’s Utah like?”
“Dry, lonely, and glowing with radioactivity.”
“Make it Hawaii. Will you go back to Florida?”
Chaney shook his head. “I’ll feel safer in Alaska.”
Quickly: “You didn’t get into trouble?”
“No, not at all; I walked softly and carried a sweet smile on my face. I was polite to a mousy librarian. I didn’t sass the cops or buy any pork in a grocery store.” He laughed at a memory. “But someone will have to explain a parking ticket when they trace the license number back to this station.”
Saltus looked his question.
Chaney said: “I got a ticket for overtime parking. It was an envelope affair; I was supposed to put two dollars in the envelope and drop it in a collection box. I didn’t. Commander, I struck a blow for liberty. I wrote a note.”
Saltus eyed him. “What was in the note?”
“We shall overcome.”
Saltus tried to stifle startled laughter, but failed. After a space he said: “Seabrooke will fire you, mister!”
“He won’t have the chance. I expect to be far away when 1980 comes. Did you read the papers?”
“Papers! We bought all the papers! William grabbed up every new one he could find — and then read his horoscope first. He was down in the mouth; he said the signs were bad — negative.” Saltus turned and waved toward newspapers spread out on the workbench. “I was photographing those when you came in. I’d rather copy them than read them onto a tape; I can blow the negs up to life size when we get back — larger than life, if they want them that way.”
Chaney crossed to the bench and bent over to scan a page under the camera lens. “I didn’t read anything but the election results, and an editorial.”
After a moment he said excitedly: “Did you read this? China invaded Formosa — captured it!”
Get the rest, read the rest of it, Saltus urged him. “That happened weeks ago, and now there’s hell to pay in Washington. Canada has formally recognized the take-over and is sponsoring a move to kick Formosa out of the United Nations — give the seat to China. There’s talk of breaking off diplomatic relations and stationing troops along the Canadian border. Civilian, that will be a real mess! I don’t give a damn for diplomats and diplomatic relations, but we need another hostile like we need an earthquake.”
Chaney tried to read between the lines. “China does need Canadian wheat, and Ottawa does like Chinese gold. That’s been a thorn in Washington’s side for thirty years. Are you a stamp collector?”
“Me? No.”
“Not too many years ago, American citizens were forbidden to buy Chinese stamps from Canadian dealers; it was a crime to purchase or possess. Washington was being silly.” He fell silent and finished reading the news story. “If these facts are reliable, Ottawa has made a whopping deal; they will deliver enough wheat to feed two or three Chinese provinces. The cash price wasn’t made public, and that’s significant — China bought more than wheat. Diplomatic recognition and Canadian support for a seat in the United Nations were probably included in the sale contract. That’s smart trading, Commander.”
“They’re damned good shots, too. I told you that. I hate their guts but I don’t downgrade them.” He flipped a newspaper page and repositioned his camera. “What time did you get in this morning? How come you were early?”
“Arrival was at 7:55. I don’t know why.”
“Old William was upset, mister. We were supposed to be first but you fouled up the line of seniority.”
Chaney said impatiently: “I can’t explain it; it just happened. That gyroscope isn’t as good as the engineers claimed it to be. Maybe the mercury protons need fixing, recharging or something. Did you hit the target?”
“Dead on. William was three or four minutes off. Seabrooke won’t like it, I’ll bet.”
“I wasn’t jumping with joy; I expected to find you and the Major waiting for me. And I wonder now what will happen on a long launch? Can those protons even find 2000?”
“If they can’t, mister, you and me and old William will be wandering around in a fog without a compass; we’ll just have to kick backwards and report a scrub.”
The camera was moved again and another page copied.
“Hey — did you see the girls?”
“Two librarians. They were sitting down.”
“Mister, you missed something good. They wear their hair in a funny way — I can’t describe it — and their skirts aren’t long enough to cover their sterns. Really, now, in November! Most of them wore long stockings to keep their legs warm while their sterns were freezing, and most of the time the stockings matched their lipstick: red and red, blue and blue, whatever. This year’s fad, I guess. Ah, those girls!” He moved the camera and turned a page.
“I talked to them, I took pictures of them, I coaxed a phone number, I took a blonde lovely to lunch — it only cost eight dollars for the two of us. That’s not too much, everything considered. The people here are just like us, mister. They’re friendly, and they speak English. That town was one sweet liberty port!”
“But they should be like us,” Chaney protested. “They’re only two years away.”
“That was a joke, civilian.”
“Excuse me.”
“Didn’t they have jokes in the tank?”
“Of course they did. One of the mathematicians came up with proof that the solar system didn’t exist.”
Saltus turned around to stare. “Paper proof?”
“Yes. It filled three pages, as I recall. He said that if he faced the east and recited it aloud, everything would go poof.”