Fantastic Stories Presents the Imagination (Stories of Science and Fantasy) Super Pack. Edmond Hamilton
am, a little. A few hours rest—”
“Would you sign this first?” the colonel asked. “It’s a transcript of your conversation with the F.B.I. man. To make it official. It’s all we need for the moment.”
Julia flipped through it. It was very accurate.
The colonel produced a pen.
Julia signed.
“Now, one last thing. What sort of clothing did you want? I’ll have my secretary buy the things in the morning.”
Using hotel stationery, Julia made a list.
The colonel took it. “We’ll call you in sometime tomorrow morning to get your testimony.”
“I better give you some money for the list.”
The colonel smiled. “You’re a guest of the Air Force. We’ll take care of it.” At the door he said, “Oh, by the way, don’t try to leave this room.”
He closed the door softly behind him.
Julia undressed quickly.
She fell into bed.
Six hours later, at ten o’clock in the morning, she awoke with a start. Someone was knocking.
“Yes?”
“A package for you.”
She drew the bed clothes around her. “Just set it inside the door.”
The sentry complied.
Julia got up. She felt completely refreshed. She showered.
Opening the package, she was delighted with the clothing the colonel’s secretary had selected.
She dressed and combed her hair.
When she tried to leave the hotel room, the sentry barred her way.
“What about breakfast?”
“Order whatever you want from room service,” the man told her.
Julia closed the door. I should show him—! she thought.
But then: Where could I go if I did go out? Suppose they come for me and I’m gone?
She phoned for breakfast.
The guard stood by while it was brought in. To keep me, she thought, from talking to the waiter.
By noon she still had received no word from the government.
She was growing annoyed.
*
It was after two o’clock when the colonel—the same one who had met them at the airport last night—came for her. “Sorry to keep you so long,” he said. “They’re ready to see you now.”
“I’m ready.”
“We’re going over to the Pentagon.”
“Let’s go.”
They stopped to pick up Walt.
He had gotten a razor from somewhere; the stubble on his face was gone. His skin was smooth and boyish. He was dressed in a single breasted, brown suit. His white shirt was open at the neck.
Julia’s heart caught in her throat with pride when she saw him. She blushed.
“He’s been pacing the floor for the last hour,” the guard said.
“We’re going to talk to some government official,” Julia said. She smiled up at him. “How do you feel, Walt?”
“I’m fine. Fine. Nervous. But I feel fine.”
“They’re waiting,” the colonel said. “We better hurry.”
Julia took Walt’s hand. “It’s all right. You don’t need to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” he said.
The same olive drab car was waiting for them outside the hotel. They got in—the colonel in front with the driver, Walt and Julia in back.
The car moved into Washington traffic.
Bleak, harsh winter lay over the town; the very air seemed weary and exhausted. Julia stared out the window at the passing buildings.
The invasion, she thought. Flying saucers settling down upon such a commonplace, solid scene as this. Terrified faces in the streets. Crys. The whine of a police car. An air raid warning, wailing like a lost night express. Brick and cement buckling and exploding. Walls crashing. Smoke billowing up. The helpless, ironic chuckle of a machine gun seeking a target. The drone of a plane . . . .
Suppose the government won’t believe our story after all! she thought.
“You’re going to help us all you can, aren’t you, Walt?” she whispered. Her fingers plucked nervously at her dress.
“This morning, I had a long talk with the man at my door. I’ll help you all I can. He’d never even heard of Lyria; he—”
The colonel swiveled his head. “We consulted with the President this morning.”
Julia felt herself grow tense. “Yes?”
“He instructed us to have the two of you interviewed by some of the best authorities we could round up on such short notice. You will be required to demonstrate this ability you seem to have to teleport objects.”
“I’ll do everything I can.”
The colonel grunted and turned back to watching the road.
The Tidal Basin lay to one side of the car; the Washington Channel to the other. Off the highway, the rotunda dome of the white marble Jefferson Memorial glistened in the weak sunlight; the cherry trees around it were naked with winter.
Julia listened to her own breathing; she forced herself to relax. I’ve got to convince them, she thought.
In spite of her superiority, she felt like a little girl venturing into a big, unfamiliar world.
Shortly, the car drew up at the huge Pentagon building.
Inside it, army men—officers and enlisted men—were scurrying about, up and down ramps, in and out of the endless maze of corridors. There was a brisk hum of voices; it was like a giant bee hive. The high heeled shoes of female personnel chattered efficiently from room to room.
“Stay close,” the colonel said. “It’s easy to get lost.”
*
All the noises of the building were swallowed up when the colonel closed the office door on the third floor. The elderly female receptionist at the desk looked up.
“They’re waiting, Colonel Robertson. Go right in.”
“Right through here,” the colonel said.
Walt and Julia followed.
He opened the door, and they issued into the conference room. Talking broke off; faces swung to confront them.
“Gentlemen,” the colonel said, “this is the girl, and this—this is the man from the space station.”
The audience around the table rustled.
“You’ll sit right here,” the colonel told them. He helped Julia to her chair. When they were both seated, the colonel withdrew.
Chairs scraped and squeaked.
One of the men across from Julia cleared his throat. He was in civilian clothes. He was slightly stooped and partly bald. He wiped his glasses nervously. “We would like a demonstration of your—your, um, um unusual propensities.” He adjusted his glasses.
The glasses disengaged themselves from his ears and floated toward Julia. Julia stood up and