peration
Seed-corn?"
That was the underground railway that ran thousands of farmers out of
occupied territory. Manpower was what finally broke Invader, improbable
as it seems. Epidemics, desertions, over-extended lines, thinned that
overwhelming combat strength; and every farmer spirited out of their
hands equalled ten casualties. I nodded.
"Well, I planned that with myself as director. And sold it to Filipson."
I contemplated him: just a big man in a trench coat and droop-brimmed
hat silhouetted against the lamp-lit mist. I said, "You directed
Seed-corn out of a wheel chair in enemy territory, and came back to get
transplanted into another body? Man, you didn't tell Ferd a word of a
lie when you said you were used to walking up to death." (But there was
more: Besides that dour Scot's fortitude, where did he come by that
high-hearted valor?)
He shrugged. "You do what you can with what you've got. _Those_ weren't
the big adventures I was thinking about when I said that. I had a team
behind me in those--"
I could only josh. "I'd sure like to hear the capperoo then."
He toed out his cigarette. "You're the only person who's equipped for
it. Maybe you'd get it, Willie."
"How do you mean?"
"I kept an ICEG record. Not that I knew it was going to happen, just
wanted proof if they gave me a deal and I pulled it off. Filipson
wouldn't renege, but generals were expendable. No one knew I had that
transmitter in my temporal bone, and I rigged it to get a tape on my
home receiver. Like to hear it?"
I said what anyone would, and steered him back to quarters before he'd
think better of it. This would be something!
* * * * *
On the way, he filled in background. Scott had been living out of
hospital in a small apartment, enjoying as much liberty as he could
manage. He had equipment so he could stump around, and an antique car
specially equipped. He wasn't complimentary about them. Orthopedic
products had to be: unreliable, hard to service, unsightly, intricate,
and uncomfortable. If they also squeaked and cut your clothes, fine!
Having to plan every move with an eye on weather and a dozen other
factors, he developed in uncanny foresight. Yet he had to improvise at a
moment's notice. With life a continuous high-wire act, he trained every
surviving fiber to precision, dexterity, and tenacity. Finally, he
avoided help. Not pride, self-preservation; the compulsively helpful
have rare
|