growling troop that confronted me in Haber’s office. I let them yell, and all the yelling was at me. Even Candace was showing the frown and the darkening of the eyes and the working of the lips, although she watched me as silently and steadily as ever.
Connick brought it to a head: ‘All right, everybody,’ he yelled, ‘now listen to me! Let’s get this thing straightened out!’
He stood up, a child gripped by each elbow and the third, the youngest, trapped between him and the door. He looked at me with such loathing that I could feel it - and didn’t like it, either, although it was no more than I had expected, and he said: ‘It’s true. Sammy, here, was one of the kids from Mars. Maybe that has made me think things I shouldn’t have thought - he’s my kid now, and when I think of those stink-bugs cutting—’
He stopped himself and turned to Knafti. ‘Well, I see something. A man who would do a thing like that would be a fiend. I’d cut his heart out with my bare hands. But you aren’t a man.’
Grimly he let go of the kids and strode towards Knafti. ‘I can’t forgive you. God help me, it isn’t possible. But I can’t blame you - exactly - any more than I can blame lightning for striking my house. I think I was wrong. Maybe I’m wrong now. But - I don’t know what you people do - I’d like to shake your hand. Or whatever the hell it is you’ve got there. I’ve been thinking of you as a perverted murderer and a filthy animal, but I’ll tell you right now, I’d rather work together with you - for your base, for peace, for whatever we can get together on - than with some human beings in this room!’
I didn’t stay to watch the tender scene that followed.
I didn’t have to, since the cameras and tape recorders that the studio people had activated for me behind every one-way mirror in the room would be watching for me. I could only hope they had not missed a single word or scream, because I didn’t think I could do that scene over again.
I opened the door quietly and left. And as I was going I caught the littlest Connick kid sneaking past me, headed for the 3-V set in the waiting room, and snaked out an arm to stop him. ‘Stinker!’ he hissed. ‘Rat fink!’
‘You may be right, I told him, ‘but go back and keep your father company. You’re in on living history today.’
“Nuts! I always watch Dr Zhivago on Monday nights, and it’s on in five minutes and—’
‘Not tonight it isn’t, son. You can hold that against me, too. We preempted the time for a different show entirely.’
I escorted him back into the room, closed the door, picked up my coat and left.
~ * ~
Candace was waiting for me with the car. She was driving it herself.
‘Will I make the nine-thirty flight?’ I asked.
‘Sure, Gunner.’ She steered on to the autotraffic lane, put the car on servo and dialled the scatport, then sat back and lit a cigarette for each of us. I took it and looked morosely out the window.
Down below us, on the slow-traffic level, we were passing a torchlight parade, with floats and glee clubs and free beer at the major pedestrian intersections. I opened the glove compartment and took out field glasses, looked through them—
‘Oh, you don’t have to check up, Gunner. I took care of it. They’re all plugging the programme.’
‘I see they are.’ Not only were the marchers carrying streamers that advertised our present show, that was now already beginning to be on the air, but the floats carried projection screens and amplifiers. You couldn’t look anywhere in the procession without seeing Knafti, huge and hideous in his gold carapace, clutching the children and protecting them against the attack of that monster from another planet, me. The studio people had done a splendid job of splicing in no time at all. The whole scene was there on camera, as real as I had just lived it.
‘Want to listen?’
Connick brought it to a head: ‘All right, everybody,’ he yelled, ‘now listen to me! Let’s get this thing straightened out!’
He stood up, a child gripped by each elbow and the third, the youngest, trapped between him and the door. He looked at me with such loathing that I could feel it - and didn’t like it, either, although it was no more than I had expected, and he said: ‘It’s true. Sammy, here, was one of the kids from Mars. Maybe that has made me think things I shouldn’t have thought - he’s my kid now, and when I think of those stink-bugs cutting—’
He stopped himself and turned to Knafti. ‘Well, I see something. A man who would do a thing like that would be a fiend. I’d cut his heart out with my bare hands. But you aren’t a man.’
Grimly he let go of the kids and strode towards Knafti. ‘I can’t forgive you. God help me, it isn’t possible. But I can’t blame you - exactly - any more than I can blame lightning for striking my house. I think I was wrong. Maybe I’m wrong now. But - I don’t know what you people do - I’d like to shake your hand. Or whatever the hell it is you’ve got there. I’ve been thinking of you as a perverted murderer and a filthy animal, but I’ll tell you right now, I’d rather work together with you - for your base, for peace, for whatever we can get together on - than with some human beings in this room!’
I didn’t stay to watch the tender scene that followed.
I didn’t have to, since the cameras and tape recorders that the studio people had activated for me behind every one-way mirror in the room would be watching for me. I could only hope they had not missed a single word or scream, because I didn’t think I could do that scene over again.
I opened the door quietly and left. And as I was going I caught the littlest Connick kid sneaking past me, headed for the 3-V set in the waiting room, and snaked out an arm to stop him. ‘Stinker!’ he hissed. ‘Rat fink!’
‘You may be right, I told him, ‘but go back and keep your father company. You’re in on living history today.’
“Nuts! I always watch Dr Zhivago on Monday nights, and it’s on in five minutes and—’
‘Not tonight it isn’t, son. You can hold that against me, too. We preempted the time for a different show entirely.’
I escorted him back into the room, closed the door, picked up my coat and left.
~ * ~
Candace was waiting for me with the car. She was driving it herself.
‘Will I make the nine-thirty flight?’ I asked.
‘Sure, Gunner.’ She steered on to the autotraffic lane, put the car on servo and dialled the scatport, then sat back and lit a cigarette for each of us. I took it and looked morosely out the window.
Down below us, on the slow-traffic level, we were passing a torchlight parade, with floats and glee clubs and free beer at the major pedestrian intersections. I opened the glove compartment and took out field glasses, looked through them—
‘Oh, you don’t have to check up, Gunner. I took care of it. They’re all plugging the programme.’
‘I see they are.’ Not only were the marchers carrying streamers that advertised our present show, that was now already beginning to be on the air, but the floats carried projection screens and amplifiers. You couldn’t look anywhere in the procession without seeing Knafti, huge and hideous in his gold carapace, clutching the children and protecting them against the attack of that monster from another planet, me. The studio people had done a splendid job of splicing in no time at all. The whole scene was there on camera, as real as I had just lived it.
‘Want to listen?’
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