Chapter 19. _Conquest of the Comet_
For the first time since the coming of the comet, Ken sensed defeat inhis father. Professor Maddox seemed to believe at last that they werepowerless before the invader out of space. He seemed like a runner whohas used his last reserve of strength to reach a goal on which his eyehas been fixed, only to discover the true goal is yet an immeasurabledistance ahead.
Professor Maddox had believed with all his heart and mind that they hadhurdled the last obstacle with the construction of the pilot projector.With it gone, and all their tools and instruments and notes, there wassimply nothing.
As Ken considered the problem, it seemed to him the situation was not asbad as first appeared. The most important thing had not been lost. Thiswas the knowledge, locked in their own minds, of what means couldprevail against the dust. Beyond this, the truly essential mechanicalelements for starting over again were also available.
Art Matthews had been very busy, and he had parts enough for six moremotor-generator sets. These were decontaminated and sealed in protectivepacking. It would be only a matter of hours to assemble one of them, andthat would power any supersonic projector they might choose to build.
And they _could_ still choose to build one. In the radio supply storesof the town, and in the junk boxes of the members of the science club,there were surely enough components to build several times over thenecessary number of generator elements. In the barns and chicken shedsof the valley there was plenty of aluminum sheeting to build reflectors.
The more he considered it, the more possible it seemed to take up fromwhere they had left off the night before the fire. There was oneimportant question Ken asked himself, however: Why stop with a replicaof the small pilot model they had built on the roof of Science Hall?
As long as they were committed to building a projector to test foreffectiveness, they might as well build a full-scale instrument, onethat could take its place as an actual weapon against the dust. If therewere errors of design, these could be changed during or afterconstruction. He could see no reason at all for building a mere 30-footinstrument again.
The greatest loss suffered in the fire was that of the chemistrylaboratory and its supplies and reagents. Materials for running tests onthe dust could not be replaced, nor could much of their microchemicalapparatus. The electron microscope, too, was gone. These losses wouldhave to be made up, where necessary, by having such work done byPasadena, Schenectady or Detroit. If the projector were as successful asall preliminary work indicated, there would be little need for furthertesting except as a matter of routine check on the concentration of dustin the atmosphere.
Before approaching his father, Ken talked it over with his fellowmembers of the science club. He wanted to be sure there was no loopholehe was overlooking.
"Labor to build the reflector is what we haven't got," said Joe Walton."It would take months, maybe a whole year, for us to set up only theframework for a 250-foot bowl!"
"Getting the lumber alone would be a community project," said Al.
"That's what it's going to be," Ken answered. "Johnson is behind us.He'll give us anything we want, if he knows where to get it. I don'tthink there's any question of his authorizing the construction by themen here."
There was nothing else they could think of to stand in the way of theproject.
It had been two days since the fire, but Ken's father still seemedstunned by it. After dinner, he sat in his old chair where he used toread, but he did not read now. He sat for hours, staring at the oppositecorner of the room.
Professor Larsen seemed locked in a similar state of shock. In additionto his wife's death, this destruction of their entire scientificfacilities seemed a final blow from which he could not recover.
Ken recognized, too, that there was a burden these men had carried thatno one else knew. That was the burden of top-level responsibility for amajor portion of the world's effort against the "invader." It was anAtlas-like burden that men could not carry without suffering itseffects.
Ken approached them that evening, after he and Maria had helped hismother with her chores and had gathered snow to melt overnight for theirnext day's water supply.
"Dad," Ken said, "I've been wondering when we could get started on theproject again. The fellows in the club are all ready to go. I guess mosteveryone else is, too."
His father looked as if Ken had just uttered something absolutelyunintelligible. "Start!" he cried. "Start what? How can we startanything? There's nothing left to work with, absolutely nothing!"
Ken hesitated, an ache in his heart at the defeat he saw in his father'seyes. He held out his hands. "We've got these," he said. He tapped theside of his head. "And this."
Professor Maddox's face seemed to relax a trifle. He looked at his sonwith a faint suggestion of a smile on his lips. "Yes? What do youpropose to do with them?"
Carefully, then, Ken outlined the results of his inventory. "Art canbuild up to six engines, if we need them. We've got plenty of electronicparts, and tubes big enough to put 60 or 70 kilowatts of supersonicenergy in a beam. We don't want to build a little reflector again; wewant to put up a full-scale instrument. When that's done, build anotherone, and still another, until we've used every scrap of materialavailable in the valley. By that time maybe we'll have some cars runningand can go to Frederick and other towns for more parts."
Ken's father leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed. "If enthusiasmcould do it, we could look forward to such a structure the day aftertomorrow."
"Maybe enthusiasm _can_ do it," said Professor Larsen quietly. "Ibelieve the boy is right. We've let ourselves despair too much becauseof the fire. We still have the necessary principles in our heads. If Kenis right, we've got the materials. The only problem is that you and Iare a pair of old, exhausted men, without the necessary enthusiasm andenergy. Perhaps we can borrow enough of that from these boys. I'm infavor of undertaking it!"
By the light of oil lamps they planned and talked until far pastmidnight. There were still no objections to be found outside the laborproblem. When they were through, rough drawings and calculations for thefirst projector were finished.
"Such a projector could surely reach well into the stratosphere," saidProfessor Larsen. "With the tremendous velocities of the air masses atthose heights, one projector should be able to process hundreds of tonsof atmosphere per day."
"I am wondering," said Professor Maddox, "if we should not make thereflector parabolic instead of hyperbolic. We may disperse our energytoo widely to be effective at high levels."
"I think not. The parabola would narrow the beam to little more than itsinitial diameter and would concentrate the energy more than is required.With the power Ken speaks of, I believe the hyperbolic form could carryan effective wave into the stratosphere. We'll make some calculationsfor comparison tomorrow."
* * * * *
They authorized Ken to speak with the Sheriff the following day.
"I've been wondering when I'd see some of you people," Johnson saidbluntly. "What are you doing about the mess on the hill?"
"My father thought maybe you'd drop in," said Ken.
The Sheriff shook his head. "It's your move. I just wondered if you hadany ideas, or if this fire had knocked the props out from under you."
"It did, but now we're ready to go, and we need help." Briefly, Ken gavea description of the projector they planned to build. "Labor is theproblem for us. If we could have all the carpenters in town, and all whocould be spared from woodcutting and every other activity for 2 or 3weeks I think we could get it done."
"You know how many men are left," said Johnson. "Between the war withthe nomads and the epidemic of flu, one-third of those we had when thisstarted are dead. A third of the ones left are sick, and quite a few ofthose on their feet have to take care of the ones that aren't."
"I know," said Ken.
"You know how the people feel about you scientists?"
"Yes."
The Sher
iff stared at him a long time before continuing. "It won't beeasy, but we'll do it. When do you want to start?"
"Tomorrow morning. In Jenkin's pasture, north of town."
"How many men?"
"All the carpenters you can get and a hundred others to rustle materialsand tear down old buildings."
"I meet with the Council this afternoon to go over work assignments.You'll have your men in the morning."
The rest of the day, Ken and his fellow club members chose the exactspot to erect the projector and staked it out. They spotted the nearestbuildings that could be dismantled for materials, and made estimates ofhow much they needed.
The following morning they met again on the site, and there were ten menfrom town, in addition to the college students and others who had takenpart in the research on College Hill.
"Are you all Johnson could spare?" Ken asked the group.
The nearest man shook his head. "They were assigned. No one else wouldcome. They think you are wasting your time; they think you can't doanything about the comet. A lot of them are like Meggs and Granny Wicks:they think you shouldn't _try_ to do anything about it."
Ken felt a blaze of anger. "Sometimes, I think they're right!" he saidbitterly. "Maybe it would be better if we just let the whole thing go!"
"Now don't get me wrong," the man said. "We're on your side. We're here,aren't we? I'm just telling you what they say and think in town."
"I know and I'm sorry. These other fellows will tell you what we needdone. I'm going to ride in to see Johnson."
The Sheriff was not in his office. Ken was told he had gone over to thefood warehouse where rations were being distributed. There was somerumor of a disturbance.
Ken remounted his horse and rode to the warehouse. As he approached, hesaw the lineup before the distribution counter was motionless. In frontof the counter, Sheriff Johnson stood with a pair of revolvers in hishands, holding back the crowd.
He glanced at Ken and said, "Don't tell me! I know you haven't anyworkers out there today. They're here in line, trying to collectgroceries without working!"
"We're not going to work so those scientists on the hill can have thefat of everything!" a man near the head of the line shouted. Othersechoed him with cries of hysteria.
Ken felt his disgust and disappointment vanish before a wave of genuinefear. These people had ceased to be anything but frightened, hungryanimals. Their capacity for rational action had all but disappearedunder the strains they had suffered. They were ready to lash out atanything that appeared a suitable target for their own hysterical angerand panic.
It was useless to expect them to help with the projector. The crew ofscientists and students would have to do it alone, no matter how manyweeks it took.
Sheriff Johnson, however, had no such thought. He fired a bullet overthe heads of the crowd and brought them to silence. "Listen to me," hesaid. "I know you're sick and hungry and scared. There's not a man orwoman in this valley who isn't, and that includes me and the members ofthe Council, and those you tried to burn off College Hill.
"You don't know how good you've got it! You don't deserve it as good asyou've got. You people should have been with those in Chicago or in SanFrancisco. You should have known what it was really like to be suddenlycut off from every ounce of food beyond that which was in your owncupboards. You should have known what it was like to fight day after dayin the streets of a burning city without knowing why you were fighting,or having any hope of victory.
"You've gone through your battle, and you've won, and you're still here,and there's food left. A lot of us are still going to die before theepidemic is over. We haven't the medical means to save us all. But someof us will come out of it, and every one has just as good a chance ashis neighbor.
"That's not important. It doesn't make much difference whether any oneof us stays alive now, or dies in 50 years. What is important is tryingto keep the world alive, and that's what these scientists are doing.
"While you accuse them of every crime in the book, they are the onlychance the world has got for survival!"
"They can't do anything about it!" a woman shouted. "They're just makingit up to get more than the rest of us!"
The crowd started to take up its cry again.
"Shut up!" the Sheriff thundered at them. "I repeat: you don't deserveto be as lucky as you are! But you aren't going to get out of takingyour part in pulling things back together again. Help is needed outthere north of town, and you're going to help.
"You help or you don't eat!"
A roar of rage thundered from the group. One man stepped forward. "Youcan't pull a thing like this, Johnson. We've got guns, too. We've usedthem before, and we can use them again!"
"Then you had better go home and get them right now," said Johnson. "Mymen and I will be waiting for you. I suppose there could be a lot moreof you than there are of us, so you can probably shoot us down. Then youcan eat all you want for a month, and die. Go get your gun, Hank, andcome after your rations!"
The man turned to the crowd. "Okay, you heard what he said! Let's go andget 'em!"
He strode away, then turned back to beckon his followers. In the emptystreet before the converted theater, he stood alone. "Come on!" hecried. "Who's coming with me?"
The crowd avoided his eyes. They shifted uneasily and looked at Johnsonagain. "What do you mean?" another man asked. "About, we work or wedon't eat--"
"Come on, you guys!" Hank shouted.
"The assignments on the projector will be rotated," said Johnson. "We'llspare as many men as we can from everything else. Those of you who havebeen given assignment slips will get 3 days' rations. When you bringback the slips with a verification that you did your job on theprojector you'll get an assignment somewhere else until it's your turnagain. The ones without verification on the slips don't get the next 3days' rations. That's the way it's going to be. If there's no moreargument, we'll get on with the distribution.
"Hank, get down at the end of the line!"
By mid-afternoon, the scientists had their full crew of sullen andunwilling helpers. The Sheriff had sent along a half-dozen of his ownmen, fully armed, to see there was no disturbance, but the objectorsseemed to have had their say.
With a gradual increase of co-operativeness, they did the tasks theywere assigned, bringing up materials, laying out the first members ofthe great, skeletal structure that would rise in the pasture. Johnsoncame at the end of the day to see how it was going. He breathed a sighof relief at the lack of disturbance. "It looks like we've got it made,"he said.
"I think so," Ken agreed. "All we have to do now is see how many more ofthese we can get built in other parts of the world."
They spoke that night to all the stations on the radio net, describingin detail what they had begun, what they were confident it would do.Professor Larsen's words were relayed to his colleagues in Stockholm.They estimated they could begin work almost immediately on sixprojectors. Others, elsewhere in the country, were quite probable.
In his conversation with Pasadena, Professor Maddox warned, "We have notyet been able to make tests with the big projector. Our only work so farhas been with the laboratory models, but they were highly successful."
"That's good enough for us," said Dr. Whitehead, director of thePasadena work. "Everything we've done here has failed so far. A directchemical approach seems out of the question. We'll start with one, but Ithink a dozen projectors, at least, are possible for this area."
Pasadena also reported a new radio contact with Calcutta, and promisedto pass the word on to them and to Tokyo. When they closed down thetransmitter after midnight, Ken totaled the number of projectorspromised with reasonable certainty of having the promises fulfilled.There were eighty.
"It may take a year," his father said, "or it may take 10 years, but nowwe know, without a doubt, that we can someday get our atmosphere back asit was before the comet."