"Tell me something." Tom leaned forward. "Is it true about—" He paused, embarrassed. "Well, you hear a lot of stories. But I understand some of the men on that flight, the ones who got back all right, had children. And—well, you know how rumors3 go—"
"Lies," Spencer said, without rancor5. "I've got two kids myself. Both of 'em normal."
"Oh." Tom tried to hide his disappointment behind the cocktail6 glass. It would have made great copy, if he could have proved the truth of the old rumor4 about two-headed babies. But what could Sergeant7 Spencer do for the PR program? Andrusco must have had something in mind.
He asked him point-blank.
"It's like this," the man said, his eyes distant. "Since I quit the service, I haven't been doin' so good. With jobs, I mean. And Mr. Andrusco—he said he'd give me five thousand dollars if I'd—help you people."
"Did Mr. Andrusco describe this help?"
"Yeah. He wants me to do a story. About the kid my wife had. The first kid."
"What about the first kid?"
"Well, she died, the first kid did. In childbirth. It was something that happens, you know. My wife's a little woman; the baby was smothered8."
"I see. And what kind of story do you want to tell?"
"It's not my idea." A hint of stubbornness glimmered9 in his dull eyes. "It's that Andrusco guy's. He wants me to tell how the baby was born a—mutant."
"What?"
"He wants me to release a story saying the baby was a freak. The kid was born at home, you see. The only other person who saw her, besides me and my wife, was this doctor we had. And he died a couple of years back."
Tom slumped10 in his chair. This was pushing public relations a little far.
"Well, I dunno," he said. "If the baby was really normal—"
"It was normal, all right. Only dead, that's all."
Tom stood up. "Okay, Sergeant Spencer. Let me think it over, and I'll give you a buzz before the end of the week. All right?"
"Anything you say, Chief."
In the morning, Tom Blacker went storming into John Andrusco's plush office.
"Now look, Mr. Andrusco. I don't mind slanting11 a story a little far. But this Spencer story of yours is nothing but a hoax12."
Andrusco looked hurt. "Did he tell you that? How do you like that nerve?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why, that story's as genuine as gold. We've known about the freak birth for a long time. Cosmic rays, you know. Those men on that reconnaissance flight really got bombarded."
Tom wasn't sure of himself. "You mean, it's true?"
"Of course it is! As a matter of fact, we've got a photograph of the dead baby, right after it was delivered. The doctor who attended Mrs. Spencer took it without their knowledge, as a medical curiosity. He sold it to us several years ago. We've never used it before, because we knew that the Spencers would just deny it. Now that Walt's willing to cooperate ..."
"Can I see the photo?"
"Why, certainly." He opened the top drawer and handed a glossy13 print across the desk. Tom looked at it, and winced14.
"Scales!" he said.
"Like a fish," Andrusco said sadly. "Pretty sad, isn't it?" He looked out of the window and sighed cavernously. "It's a menacing world up there...."
The rest of the day was wasted. Tom Blacker's mind wasn't functioning right.
He told Livia about it at lunch.
Livia Cord continued eating, chewing delicately on her food without flexing15 a muscle or wincing16 an eyebrow17.
On the Third of April, the story of Sergeant Walter Spencer's first-born monster broke in newspapers, magazines, and telecasts across the country. It was a five-year-old story, but it carried too much significance for the space-minded present to be ignored.
Two days later, Sergeant Spencer, 32, and his wife, Laura, 30, were found dead of asphyxiation18 in their new home in Greenwich, Connecticut. The cause of death was listed as suicide.
Tom Blacker didn't hear the news until a day after it happened. He was in Washington, setting up a series of meetings with members of a House group investigating space flight expenditures19. When he returned by 'copter that evening, he found Police Commissioner20 Joe Stinson waiting for him in Tom's own favorite chair.
The square, heavy-jowled face was strangely calm.
"Long time no see," he said mildly. "You've been a busy man lately, Mr. Blacker."
"Hello, Mr. Stinson. Won't you come in?"
"I'm in," the commissioner shrugged. "Landlord let me wait here. It's chilly21 outside. Do you want the preliminaries, or should we have the main bout2?"
"It's about Spencer, isn't it?" Tom built himself a long drink. "I heard about it on the 'copter radio, flying in. Too bad. He was a nice guy; I never met his wife."
"But you knew him, right? In fact, you and the sergeant did a lot of business together?"
"Look, Mr. Stinson. You know what kind of job I'm trying to do. It's no secret. Spencer's story happened to gear in nicely with our public relations effort. And that's all."
"Maybe it is." The commissioner's eyes hardened. "Only some of us aren't satisfied. Some of us are kinda restless about the coroner's verdict."
"What?"
"You heard me. It's fishy22, you know? Nice young couple buys a new house, then turns on the gas. Leave behind a couple of kids, too. Boys, nice boys."
"I couldn't feel worse about it," Tom said glumly23. "In a way, I can almost feel responsible ..."
"How?"
"I dunno. They were perfectly24 willing to release that story about their first-born. But maybe when they actually saw it in print, they couldn't stand the spotlight—"
"And that's your theory?"
"Yes. But I hope I'm wrong, Mr. Stinson. For my own sake."
The commissioner drew a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket.
"Let me read you something. This hasn't been released to the press, and maybe it won't be. Interested?"
"Of course."
"It's a letter. A letter that was never mailed. It's addressed to Tom Blacker, care of Homelovers, Incorporated, 320 Fifth-Madison, New York."
"What?" Tom reached for it.
"Uh-uh. It was never mailed, so it's not your property. But I'll read it to you." He slipped on a pair of bifocals.
Dear Mr. Blacker. I've been trying to reach you all week, but you've been out of town. Laura and I have just seen the first news story about our baby, and we're just sick about it. Why didn't you tell us about that photograph you were going to print? If we had known about that, we never would have consented to doing what you wanted. My wife never gave birth to that damned thing, and I don't care who knows it. I've called Mr. Andrusco to tell him that we don't want any part of this business any more. I'd send you back every penny of the five thousand dollars, only we've already spent half of it. I'm going to call the newspapers and tell them everything ...
The commissioner paused. "It goes on for another half page. But no use reading any more. I'd like a reaction, Mr. Blacker. Got one handy?"
Tom was on his feet.
"I don't believe it!" His fist thudded into his palm. "The letter's a fake!"
"That's easy to prove, Mr. Blacker."
"But the picture was genuine! Don't you see that? Sure, we paid Spencer something for his cooperation. But the picture was the real thing, taken by his family doctor. You've heard what the medical authorities said about it."
Stinson said nothing. Then he got up slowly and walked to the door.
"Maybe so. But you're missing the point I want to make, Mr. Blacker. This letter was dated the same day as the Spencer suicides. Does it sound to you like the kind of thing a man would put in a suicide note? Think it over."
Tom looked at the door the commissioner closed behind him.
"No," he said aloud. "It doesn't."
Tom didn't go to the Homelovers building the next morning. He proceeded directly to the Lunt Theatre, where Homer Bradshaw was putting Be It Ever So Humble26 into rehearsal27.
He was in no mood for the theatre, but the appointment had been made too long before. When he came through the doors of the theatre, Homer leaped halfway28 up the aisle29 to greet him, and pounded his back like a long-lost pal25. Actually, he had met the producer only twice before.
"Great to have you here, Tom!" he said enthusiastically. "Great! We've just been putting things together. Got some red-hot numbers we had written specially30 for us. Wait 'til you hear 'em!" He waved towards the two shirtsleeved men hovering31 around the on-stage piano. "You know Julie, don't you? And Milt Steiner? Great team! Great team!"
They took seats in the sixth row while Homer raved32 about the forthcoming production that was going to cost Homelovers, Incorporated some hundred thousand dollars. A dozen shapely girls in shorts and leotards were kicking their heels lackadaisically33 in the background, and a stout34 man with a wild checkered35 suit was wandering around the stage with an unlit cigar in his hand, begging the stagehands for a match.
"Hey, fellas!" Homer Bradshaw called to the men at the piano. "Run through that Gypsy number for Mr. Blacker, huh?"
They came to life like animated36 dolls. The tallest of the pair stepped in front of the stage while the other thumped37 the piano keys. The tall one sang in a loud nasal voice, with an abundance of gestures.
"Gypsy! Gypsy! Why do you have to be a gypsy? Life could be so ipsy-pipsy Staying home and getting tipsy Safe on Earth with me!"
He swung into the second chorus while Tom Blacker kept his face from showing his true opinion of the specialty38 number. The next offering didn't change his viewpoint. It was a ballad39. A blonde girl in clinging black shorts sang it feelingly.
"There's a beautiful Earth tonight With a beautiful mellow40 light Shining on my spaceman in the moon. Why did he leave me? Only to grieve me? Spaceman, come home to me soon ..."
"Did you like it? Did you like it?" Homer Bradshaw said eagerly.
"It'll do fine," Tom Blacker said, with his teeth clenched41.
When he left the theatre, Tom visiphoned the office to tell Livia that he was taking the rest of the day off. But he found that Livia herself was spending the day in her two-room apartment downtown. He hung up, and decided42 that he had to talk to her about Stinson's visit. He hopped43 a cab, and gave him Livia's address.
John Andrusco answered the door.
"Well! Thought you were at the office, Tom?"
He found himself glaring at the lean-jawed executive. What was Andrusco doing here?
"I've been over at the theatre," Tom explained. "Watching that musical we're spending all that dough44 on." He stepped inside. "I might say the same about you, Mr. Andrusco."
"Me? Oh, I just came to talk over some business with Livia. Poor kid's not feeling so hot, you know."
"No, I didn't." He dropped his hat familiarly on the contour couch, with almost too much deliberation. "Livia in bed?"
"No." The girl appeared at the door of the bedroom, wrapping a powder-blue negligee around her. "What brings you here, Tom?"
"I—I wanted to talk something over with you. Now that you're here, Mr. Andrusco, we can all talk it over."
"What's that?" Andrusco made himself at home at the bar.
"It's about Walt Spencer. I had a visitor last night, the police commissioner. He showed me a letter that Spencer had written just before he—before he died. It was addressed to me, only Spencer had never mailed it."
Andrusco looked sharply at the girl. "And what was in this letter?"
"He was upset," Tom said. "He wanted to back out of the deal we made. Said the picture was a phoney. But the thing that's bothering the police is the tone of the damned letter. It just doesn't sound like a man about to kill himself and his wife—"
"Is that all?" Livia took the drink from Andrusco's hand and sipped45 at it. "I thought it was something serious."
"It is serious!" Tom looked sternly at her. "I want to know something, Mr. Andrusco. You told me that picture was genuine. Now I want you to tell me again."
The man smiled, with perfect teeth. "How do you mean, genuine? Is it a picture of a genuine infant with scales?"
"Yes."
"I assure you. In that respect, the picture is absolutely genuine."
Tom thought it over.
"Wait a while. Was the story genuine, too?"
John Andrusco smiled. He sat on the sofa, and rubbed the palms of his hands over his knees. Then he looked towards Livia Cord and said:
"Well—I didn't think we could hold out on our clever Mr. Blacker as long as we have. So we might as well enlist46 his cooperation fully47. Eh, Livia?"
"I think so." The girl smiled, her teeth sharp.
"What does that mean?" Tom said.
"The infant," John Andrusco answered slowly, "was not Walter Spencer's child. That, I'm afraid, was nothing more than a little white lie."
Tom looked confused.
"Then what was it?"
Livia finished her drink.
"It was my child."
The man and the woman, whose grins now seemed permanently48 affixed49 to their faces, were forced to wait a considerable amount of time before Tom Blacker was both ready and able to listen to their explanation.
Livia did most of the talking.
"You'll probably be horrified50 at all this," she said, with a trace of amusement around her red mouth. "Particularly since you and I have been—" She paused, and looked towards Andrusco with a slight lift of her shoulder. "Well, you know. But you needn't feel too squeamish, Tom. After all, I was born and raised on Earth. I am, you might say, an honorary Earth woman."
Tom's eyes bulged51 at her.
"This civilization from which my husband and I claim ancestry52 is perhaps no older than your own. Unfortunately, we were not blessed with a planetary situation as agreeable as Earth's. Our sun is far feebler, the orbital paths of our moons act drastically upon our waters, causing generations of drought and centuries of flood ..."
"What are you talking about?" Tom said hoarsely53.
"I speak of home," Livia Cord said. And her eyes gleamed.
"Antamunda is the name we give it," John Andrusco said cordially. "A world very much like your own in size and atmosphere, Mr. Blacker. But tragically54, a world whose usefulness has been gradually coming to an end. Our ancestors, who were scientists of much ability, foresaw this some hundreds of years ago. Since that time, they have been seeking a solution to the problem."
"I don't believe this!"
"We have," Livia said carefully, "excellent evidence."
"Some five hundred years ago," Andrusco continued, "our people despatched an exploratory space vessel55. A home-hunting force, seeking to relocate the surviving members of our race. It was a long, trying odyssey56, but it finally culminated57 in the selection of a new home. I needn't tell you that the home is in your own solar system."
Tom shot to his feet. "You mean Earth? You mean you want to take over here—"
Andrusco looked shocked. "Certainly not! What a violent thought, Mr. Blacker!"
"The planet you call Mars," Livia said coolly, "was the selected destination. A planet with only limited facilities for the support of life. But a planet even more like our own dying world than Earth, Mr. Blacker. So you needn't cry havoc58 about alien invaders59." She laughed sharply.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"Merely waiting," Andrusco said. "We are the offspring of the surviving members of the expeditionary force from Antamunda, placed here on Earth as a vanguard of the immigration that will shortly take place to this system. But your own world is in no danger, Mr. Blacker. That you must believe. Physically60, our people are not your equals. Scientifically, we are advanced in certain fields and shamefully61 backwards62 in others. Biologically—" He frowned. "This is our greatest weakness. To the Antamundans, your breeding capacity is nothing short of grotesque63." His handsome lip curled. He enjoyed watching Tom's reaction.
Tom swallowed hard. "How long have you been here?"
"Some four generations have been born here. Our duty has been merely to await the arrival of our people. But in the last fifty years, we found ourselves faced with another obligation. It was that obligation which brought about the formation of Homelovers, Incorporated."
"I don't understand."
"We had underestimated the science of Earth. Our own necessity drove us towards the perfection of space flight. Earth had no such urgency. But now—" Livia looked mournful. "Now we were faced with the possibility that Mars would soon be a colony of your own planet, before our people had a chance to make it their rightful home. You can see the consequences of that. A conflict of interests, a question of territorial64 rights. Even the possibility of an interplanetary war—"
"War!"
"A possibility greatly to be abhorred," Andrusco said. "And one we were sure we could eliminate, if we could merely delay the colonization65 of Mars."
"Don't you see?" Livia said earnestly. "If we could make Mars our natural home, then the people of Earth would come to us as friendly visitors—or invaders, whichever they prefer. But if we arrived too late— No, Tom. We feel that it is imperative—to the peace of both our worlds—that Antamunda reach Mars first."
"Then it's a race!" Tom was bewildered.
"You may call it that. But a race we are determined66 to win. And we will win!"
Tom thought of another question.
"The infant," he said. "The creature with scales ..."
"It was mine," the girl said sadly. "Born to John and me some ten years ago. Unfortunately, it did not live. And while your Earth eyes may consider it a creature—" She drew herself up proudly. "It was a perfectly formed Antamundan child."
Tom gaped67 at her.
"No," she said, answering the question in his gaze. "You are looking at us as we are. We lose our scales after our infancy68, when our mouths are formed ..."
After a while, Tom asked:
"And what about Spencer?"
"Unfortunate," the man said. "His betrayal to the press would have done us incalculable harm. It was necessary to do what we did."
"Then you did kill them?"
Livia turned her head aside.
"And you think I'll stand for that?" Tom said.
"Perhaps not," Andrusco said. "But frankly—I don't really know what you can do about it. Except, of course, repeat this explanation to the authorities. You're free to do that, Tom. Any time at all." He smiled, slyly.
"You think they won't believe me?"
Livia came over to Tom's chair, and slithered one arm around his shoulder.
"Why, Tom, darling. Are you so sure that you believe it?"
He left the apartment some ten minutes later, and took a cab to 320 Fifth-Madison. It was almost five o'clock, and the steel-and-glass cylinder69 was emptying rapidly of its Homelovers employees. He watched the stream of ordinary people stepping off the elevators: the young secretaries with their fresh faces and slim figures, laughing at office anecdotes70 and sharing intimate confidences about office bachelors; the smooth-cheeked young executives, in their gray and blue suits, gripping well-stocked brief cases, and striding energetically down the lobby, heading for the commuter71 trains; the paunchy, dignified72 men with their gray temples and gleaming spectacles, walking slowly to the exits, quoting stock prices and planning golf dates.
The crowd eddied73 about him like a battling current as he made his way towards the elevators, and their images swam before his face in pink-and-white blurs74. And for one terrible moment, in the thickest vortex of the crowd, he began to imagine that the faces were melting before his eyes, the mouths disappearing into the flesh, and below the white collars and black-knit ties and starched75 pink blouses appeared a shimmering76 collection of ugly scales.
He shuddered77, and stepped into an empty car, punching the button that shot him to the executive floor of the Homelovers Building.
In his office, he switched on the visiphone and made contact with a square-faced man who frowned mightily78 when he recognized his caller.
"What do you want?" Stinson said.
"I have to see you," Tom told him. "I learned something this afternoon, about Walt Spencer. I don't know whether you'll believe it or not, but I have to take that chance. Will you talk to me?"
"All right. But we'll have to make it down here."
"I'll be there in an hour. I want to organize a few things first. Then we can talk."
Tom switched off, and began to empty his desk. He found nothing in the official communications of the Homelovers that would substantiate79 his story, but he continued to gather what information he could about the PR program.
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1
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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rancor
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| n.深仇，积怨 | |
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cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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slumped
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| 大幅度下降，暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 )； 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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hoax
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| v.欺骗，哄骗，愚弄；n.愚弄人，恶作剧 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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flexing
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| n.挠曲，可挠性v.屈曲( flex的现在分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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asphyxiation
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| n. 窒息 | |
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expenditures
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| n.花费( expenditure的名词复数 )；使用；（尤指金钱的）支出额；（精力、时间、材料等的）耗费 | |
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commissioner
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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fishy
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| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
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glumly
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| adv.忧郁地，闷闷不乐地；阴郁地 | |
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perfectly
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pal
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humble
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rehearsal
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halfway
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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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specially
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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lackadaisically
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checkered
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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thumped
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specialty
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| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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44
dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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45
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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affixed
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| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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51
bulged
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| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
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ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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odyssey
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| n.长途冒险旅行；一连串的冒险 | |
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culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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invaders
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| 入侵者，侵略者，侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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shamefully
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| 可耻地； 丢脸地； 不体面地； 羞耻地 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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territorial
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| adj.领土的，领地的 | |
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colonization
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| 殖民地的开拓，殖民，殖民地化； 移殖 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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cylinder
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| n.圆筒，柱(面)，汽缸 | |
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anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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commuter
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| n.(尤指市郊之间)乘公交车辆上下班者 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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eddied
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| 起漩涡，旋转( eddy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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blurs
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| n.模糊( blur的名词复数 )；模糊之物；（移动的）模糊形状；模糊的记忆v.（使）变模糊( blur的第三人称单数 )；（使）难以区分 | |
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starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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substantiate
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| v.证实；证明...有根据 | |
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