Read Online Planet in Peril by John Christopher - Free Book Online
Authors: John Christopher
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Berkeley.”
Charles said: “I stayed the night in Professor Koupal’s suite. I went over it pretty thoroughly; so did Caston and Stenner . I doubt if anything will turn up there” “There's more to Berkeley than Koupal’s suite. There’s his room at college. There’s the chance that someone saw him in that crucial time immediately after he was last seen at the Interplanetary rocket pits.”
One of the group objected: “Berkeley’s not all that big a place, and everyone knows everyone in those campus towns. What excuse is Macintosh going to have for being there—he’ll be noticed as a stranger, sure as H-bombs.” Charles felt a slight twitch of surprise at the use of his new name. It was used very casually; he hoped he would be able to use it as casually himself.
Dinkuhl said: “Charlie will have two authorizations along with his GD card. One will be a routine authorization of furlough. The other, specially fixed for the trip to Berkeley, will be an arrangement to stay over at Berkeley as a visiting student working on idiopathic decalcification in certain Outer Mongolian tribes. It so happens that they have some stuff on that at Berkeley that isn’t available elsewhere on this continent.”
Charles had started. “What,” he asked, “is idiopathic decalcification in—”
“Their teeth drop out early,” Dinkuhl said briefly. “We will hope you don’t happen on another GD man working in that line—I think it unlikely. Anyway, that’s the scheme. Once at Berkeley, it’s up to you, Charlie. We’ll try to keep in touch with you, but essentially you’re on your own.”
Charles nodded. The Atomics man said: “Sounds all right. I can think of about fifty things likely to go wrong.” “We’ll hope they don’t,” Dinkuhl said. “All right, then. I’ll run Charlie here back to Detroit and ship him on the stratoliner to Berkeley. See you boys at the next meeting.”
The gyro dropped at last toward the lights of Detroit, and to Dinkuhl’s house by the edge of the lake. Dinkuhl brought the vanes into vertical and switched on the landing fight; the gyro dropped effortlessly on to its grounding strip.
Dinkuhl said: “I'll shove this in its kennel. You know your way about the house by now.” He handed Charles the whistle-key. “Find yourself a drink. I’ll be right up.” Dinkuhl had put on the path-lights; Charles walked along a narrow strip of light toward the dark house. He reached the door, and whistled it open; the inside lights went on automatically. He made his way up to the first floor, and into the lounge. There was a whiff of some kind of perfume in the air; it was oddly familiar.
He knew what it was when his knees began to buckle: astarate , the nerve gas. He slumped to the floor with his head toward the threshold—so it was that he saw Dinkuhl appear and stand on the other side of it, looking into the room. He was wishing he could read Dinkuhl’s expression when consciousness went.
IV
the cell in which C harles awoke was windowless and approximately a cube, with sides of perhaps nine feet. There were two gratings facing each other in opposite walls—small square patches of mesh in a bare expanse of pastel yellow plastic. Ventilation ducts. A door was set in another wall. It was much too centrally placed; in point of fact the bottom of the door-frame was over a foot off the floor of the room, and there was the same gap between the lintel top and the ceiling.
Charles had a shattering headache; as he knew, an inevitable after-effect of astarate . He scrambled to his feet, wincing, and walked unsteadily across to the door. Dinkuh l’ s whistle-key had disappeared but he could remember a few standard combinations of notes. He tried them out, despite the dryness of his throat. There was no response; the door remained closed. He pressed his shoulder against it, too, but it remained firm. He went over and sat down in the airfoam chair to think thin gs out. It folded persuasively about
Charles said: “I stayed the night in Professor Koupal’s suite. I went over it pretty thoroughly; so did Caston and Stenner . I doubt if anything will turn up there” “There's more to Berkeley than Koupal’s suite. There’s his room at college. There’s the chance that someone saw him in that crucial time immediately after he was last seen at the Interplanetary rocket pits.”
One of the group objected: “Berkeley’s not all that big a place, and everyone knows everyone in those campus towns. What excuse is Macintosh going to have for being there—he’ll be noticed as a stranger, sure as H-bombs.” Charles felt a slight twitch of surprise at the use of his new name. It was used very casually; he hoped he would be able to use it as casually himself.
Dinkuhl said: “Charlie will have two authorizations along with his GD card. One will be a routine authorization of furlough. The other, specially fixed for the trip to Berkeley, will be an arrangement to stay over at Berkeley as a visiting student working on idiopathic decalcification in certain Outer Mongolian tribes. It so happens that they have some stuff on that at Berkeley that isn’t available elsewhere on this continent.”
Charles had started. “What,” he asked, “is idiopathic decalcification in—”
“Their teeth drop out early,” Dinkuhl said briefly. “We will hope you don’t happen on another GD man working in that line—I think it unlikely. Anyway, that’s the scheme. Once at Berkeley, it’s up to you, Charlie. We’ll try to keep in touch with you, but essentially you’re on your own.”
Charles nodded. The Atomics man said: “Sounds all right. I can think of about fifty things likely to go wrong.” “We’ll hope they don’t,” Dinkuhl said. “All right, then. I’ll run Charlie here back to Detroit and ship him on the stratoliner to Berkeley. See you boys at the next meeting.”
The gyro dropped at last toward the lights of Detroit, and to Dinkuhl’s house by the edge of the lake. Dinkuhl brought the vanes into vertical and switched on the landing fight; the gyro dropped effortlessly on to its grounding strip.
Dinkuhl said: “I'll shove this in its kennel. You know your way about the house by now.” He handed Charles the whistle-key. “Find yourself a drink. I’ll be right up.” Dinkuhl had put on the path-lights; Charles walked along a narrow strip of light toward the dark house. He reached the door, and whistled it open; the inside lights went on automatically. He made his way up to the first floor, and into the lounge. There was a whiff of some kind of perfume in the air; it was oddly familiar.
He knew what it was when his knees began to buckle: astarate , the nerve gas. He slumped to the floor with his head toward the threshold—so it was that he saw Dinkuhl appear and stand on the other side of it, looking into the room. He was wishing he could read Dinkuhl’s expression when consciousness went.
IV
the cell in which C harles awoke was windowless and approximately a cube, with sides of perhaps nine feet. There were two gratings facing each other in opposite walls—small square patches of mesh in a bare expanse of pastel yellow plastic. Ventilation ducts. A door was set in another wall. It was much too centrally placed; in point of fact the bottom of the door-frame was over a foot off the floor of the room, and there was the same gap between the lintel top and the ceiling.
Charles had a shattering headache; as he knew, an inevitable after-effect of astarate . He scrambled to his feet, wincing, and walked unsteadily across to the door. Dinkuh l’ s whistle-key had disappeared but he could remember a few standard combinations of notes. He tried them out, despite the dryness of his throat. There was no response; the door remained closed. He pressed his shoulder against it, too, but it remained firm. He went over and sat down in the airfoam chair to think thin gs out. It folded persuasively about
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