“The earth, Mister President. All of it. Leave out the fact that these apes have conquered our earth in their time; that humanity consists of sniveling wretches unable even to pronounce their own names. Perhaps something could have been done about that. But not with the earth destroyed!”

“Victor, if that is the future, nothing we do will change it.”

“Insufficient understanding again, Mister President. All futures may be equally real, but only one will happen.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand how something can be real if it doesn’t happen—oh, never mind. I don’t want you to explain it again. You truly believe that by deliberate, present-day action we can change the future for the better.”

“Yes. I do.”

“All right. But do you believe we should? Have we got the right to do that, Victor?”

“I don’t know.”

The president looked up, shocked. It was the first time he had ever seen his science advisor in a state of uncertainty. The man’s wild stare was gone, and there were suspicious glints at the corners of his eyes, as if he were about to cry.

Hasslein’s voice was unsteady as he continued. “You can’t know how I’ve wrestled with that problem, Mister President. I just don’t know what the right thing is. Out of all the futures, all real, which one has God chosen for man’s final destiny? And if we destroy those apes, are we defying God’s will or carrying it out? Are we His instruments or His enemies?”

The president got up from his desk and went to put a hand on Hasslein’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry too much about thwarting God’s will, Victor.”

“I can’t believe in fatalism—”

“Nor I, Victor. I only meant He’s big enough to get His way if He sets His mind to it, without much regard for what you or I want. Maybe you’d better ask Him what to do. I do. Quite often, in this job.”

Hasslein shook his head. “I don’t know how.”

“Then I do feel sorry for you. But you do know that killing two innocent beings is immoral. You can’t condone that kind of assassination—”

“You have,” Hasslein protested. “We had that Soviet marshal killed—”

“God help us. Yes. He was an evil man, full of plans for war. I had no choice.” The President noticed Hasslein’s triumphant look, and felt disgust. “Yes. I authorized murder of an evil and dangerous man, Dr. Hasslein. But I wouldn’t have approved killing him as a baby because he might become an evil man. Or having his remote ancestors killed to prevent his ever being born. That’s just what you’re proposing to do with those chimpanzees, and I won’t have it. They haven’t done anything to us.”

“Nothing proven,” Hasslein said. “The fact remains, they have appeared in Colonel Taylor’s capsule. The very act of their coming here makes it impossible for Colonel Taylor to return. Don’t forget that, Mister President. They may have killed Colonel Taylor for his ship. Did you ever think of that?”

The president sat abruptly. “No. I didn’t.”

“Suppose that’s the way it happened?” Hasslein asked.

“Then we would have to rethink our position,” the president said. “Taylor was one of my officers. I sent him. What makes you think these chimpanzees know any more than they’ve told us?”

“They didn’t tell us about the end of the world,” Hasslein reminded him. “Not until I got one of them drunk.”

“Plying a pregnant girl with champagne,” the president said. He almost smiled. “I ought to be ashamed of you.”

“It got more information than anything else we’ve done,” Hasslein snapped. “And there have been other discrepancies. I think those chimpanzees are lying to us. About many things. I think proper interrogation would disclose what they were lying about.”

“And you don’t think the Commission is competent?” the president asked.

“No, sir. How could it be? And its procedures are those of Anglo Saxon justice. I submit to you, sir, this is a matter of national security, and those apes have no rights under the Constitution of the United States.”

“I suppose not,” the president said. “I take it, then, you want your own interrogation—?”

“Yes, sir. I want to borrow some people from the National Security Agency, and I want to transfer this matter to the National Security Council instead of that farcical Commission.”

The president nodded. He lifted a telephone from his desk and spoke briefly into the instrument, then turned to Hasslein again. “All right. I’ve asked General Brody to set things up with NSA for you. As to the Commission, you will give all information NSA digs up for you to the commissioners. I will not remove this matter from their jurisdiction until and unless I think there is a real threat to the national security. You keep me informed, and until you find me something really convincing, the Commission stays on the job. Agreed?”

“Yes, sir,” Hasslein said. “Thank you.”

“You needn’t,” the President said. “I don’t like any of this. But you’ve effectively reminded me of my duty. Very well, Victor. Keep me informed.”

“Yes, sir.” Hasslein left, a twisted smile on his face.

The president watched the door close behind his science advisor, and sighed again. There were times when he wondered if all the fight he’d had to get to this office had been worth it; if he wouldn’t be happier back in Congress. He’d always liked politics, but the oval office was a pretty big job for an Iowa farm boy.

It would be pretty big for anybody, he thought. And the man who had wanted it, the man I defeated to get it—God, no. “Mary Lynn, who do we have next?”

“Secretary of the Interior, sir.”

“Very good. Send him in.”

FOURTEEN

Admiral Jardin looked with disgust at the document. He read it carefully, then again, before looking at Dr. Hasslein. “I don’t like it,” Snapper Jardin said.

“You are not asked to like it,” Hasslein told him. “It is a valid order from the Presidential Commission of Inquiry, and countersigned by General Brody for the president. I take it you are not satisfied, Admiral. Would you prefer to call General Brody yourself?”

“No. All right, I’ll deliver the chimpanzees to your National Security Agency interrogation team. I don’t seem to have much choice. But I will be damned if I’m going to cook up a press release about the apes needing rest and privacy and seclusion. I won’t cover for your damned wrecking crew, Hasslein. Leave the Navy out of your bloody intrigues.”

“All we are trying to do is to find what happened to Colonel Taylor, Admiral. Surely you want to cooperate in that?”

Jardin frowned. “Yeah. But I don’t think you’re going about it the right way. OK, what do you want for facilities?”

“Perhaps an empty hospital wing at Camp Pendleton?” Hasslein suggested. “Somewhere on a guarded post, and since one of the apes is pregnant, medical facilities wouldn’t be a bad idea. After all, Admiral, we don’t want to harm these animals. We only want to be sure they’ve told us everything we need to know.”

“I suppose. I still think my people could have handled the job. OK, you’ll get your hospital. We have a whole clinic not being used right now. It was part of the reception center for the Viet Nam POW’s coming home. Ought to have everything you need. We have tape recording setups and projection screens for debriefings of our troops—”

“Excellent,” Hasslein purred. “And you need not bother to arrange transportation. I’ll take care of that. You just alert the guards at Camp Pendleton that we’ll be there before noon tomorrow.” He reached across the desk to take the documents.

Admiral Jardin smoothly held them out of Hasslein’s reach. “I’ll keep this, if you don’t mind.”

Hasslein frowned. “Why?”

Jardin slammed his open palm against the desk. “Because I still don’t like any part of this, and if I didn’t have it in writing from the president I wouldn’t do it. I’ll keep these orders, Hasslein. I may need them some day.”