Rogue Moon

Hawks clenched his fists at his sides. “Barker! What color was your first schoolbook?”

Barker’s arms loosened slightly. His head lost its rigid forward thrust. He shook his head and scowled down at the floor, concentrating fiercely.

“I — I don’t remember, Hawks,” he stammered. “Green — no, no, it was orange, with blue printing, and it had a story in it about three goldfish who climbed out of their bowl onto a bookcase and then dived back into it. I — I can see the page with the illustration: three fish in the air, falling in a slanted tier, with the bowl waiting for them. The text was set with three one-word paragraphs: ‘Splash!’, and then a paragraph indentation, and then ‘Splash!’ and then once more. Three Splashes in a tier, just like the fish.”

“Well, now, you see, Barker,” Hawks said softly. “You have been alive for as long as you can remember. You are something. You’ve seen, and remembered.”

Weston looked over his shoulder. “For Heaven’s sake, Hawks! Stay out of this!” Holiday studied Barker with a slight blinking of his eyes, the hypodermic withheld.

Hawks let out his breath slowly and said to Weston, “At least he knows he’s alive.”

Barker was slumped, now. Nearly doubled over, he swayed on the edge of the table, the color of his face gradually returning to normal. He whispered intently, “Thanks. Thanks, Hawks.” Bitterly, he whispered, “Thanks for everything.” He mumbled suddenly, his torso rigid, “Somebody get me a wastebasket, or something.” Gersten and Hawks stood beside the transmitter, watching Barker come unsteadily back from the washroom, dressed in his slacks and shirt.

“What do you think, Ed?” Gersten asked. “What’s he going to do now? Is he going to pull out on us?”

“I don’t know,” Hawks answered absently, watching Barker. “I thought he’d work out,” he said under his breath. “But has he?” He said to Gersten, “We’ll simply have to wait and see. We’ll have to think of a way to handle it.”

“Get another man?”

Hawks shook his head. “We can’t. We don’t even know enough about this one.” He said as though attacked by flies, “I have to have time to think. Why does time run on while a man thinks?”

Barker came up to them.

Barker’s eyes were sunken in their sockets. He looked piercingly at Hawks. His voice was jagged and nasal.

“Holiday says I’m generally all right, now, everything considered. But someone must drive me home.” His mouth curled. “D’you want the job, Hawks?”

“Yes, I do.” Hawks took off his smock and laid it folded atop the cabinet. “You might as well set up for another shot tomorrow, Ted,” he said to Gersten.

“Don’t count on me for it!” Barker sawed.

“We can always cancel, you ,know.” He said to Gersten, “I’ll call early tomorrow and let you know.”

Barker stumbled forward as Hawks fell into step beside him. They slowly crossed the laboratory floor and went out though the stairwell doors, side by side.

Co

Hawks said, “If I find the man who’s piping you information from the laboratory, I’ll fire him.”

Co

“God damn you, Co

Co

“Something like that,” Hawks said.

Co

Hawks looked at Barker. The man’s hands fumbled as though dealing with something invisible in the air just in front of his stomach. He was staring right through Co

Then Barker said lamely, “There isn’t room in the car.”

Co

Hawks pulled his glance away from Barker’s face and said sharply, “I’ll drive.”

Co

4

Claire Pack stood watching them from the head of the steps up to the lawn. She was wearing a one-piece skirtless cotton swimsuit cut high at the tops of her thighs, and was resting her hands lightly on her hips. As Co

“Well, Doctor!” She said with low-voiced gravity and a pucker of her lips, “I’d been wondering when you’d drop by again.”

Co

She glanced aside at Barker, who was raising the garage doors with abrupt, crashing movements of his arms and body, all his attention obviously on what he was doing. She ran her tongue over the edges of her teeth. “What kind?”

“Now, I wouldn’t know as to that. Why don’t you ask Hawks?” Co

Barker got into his car, started it, and clashed the gears as he moved it into the garage nose-first. The trapped thunder of the exhaust rumbled loudly and sputtered down into silence.

“I think he’ll be all right,” Hawks said.

Claire looked down at him. She focused her expression into an open-faced i

Barker brought the garage doors down and passed Hawks with his head bent, striding intently as he thrust the ignition keys into his pocket. His face jerked up toward Claire as he climbed the steps. “I’m going upstairs. I may sack out. Don’t wake me.” He half-turned and looked at Hawks. “I guess you’re stuck here, unless you want to take another hike. Did you think of that, Doctor?”

“Did you? I’ll stay until you’re up. I’ll want to talk to you.”

“I wish you joy of it, Doctor,” Barker said, and walked away, with Claire watching him. Then she looked back down at Hawks. Through all this, she had not moved her feet or hands.