The screen came to life; they saw Robertson, looking tired, smoking a cigarette.
"Jeremy, you've got to give me time. I haven't been able to get through to--"
Listen," Stone said, "I want you to make sure Directive 7-12 is not carried out. It is imperative: no atomic device must be detonated around the organisms. That's the last thing in the world, literally, that we want to do."
He explained. briefly what he had found.
Robertson whistled. "We'd just provide a fantastically rich growth medium.
"That's right," Stone said.
The problem of a rich growth medium was a peculiarly distressing one to the Wildfire team. It was known, for example, that checks and balances exist in the normal environment. These manage to dampen the exuberant growth of bacteria.
The mathematics of uncontrolled growth are frightening. A single cell of the bacterium E. coli would, under ideal circumstances, divide every twenty minutes. That is not particularly disturbing until you think about it, but the fact is that bacteria multiply geometrically: one becomes two, two become four, four become eight, and so on. In this way, it can be shown that in a single day, one cell of E. coli could
produce a super-colony equal in size and weight to the entire planet earth.
This never happens, for a perfectly simple reason: growth cannot continue indefinitely under "ideal circumstances." Food runs out. Oxygen runs out. Local conditions within the colony change, and check the growth of organisms.
On the other hand, if you had an organism that was capable of directly converting energy to matter, and if you provided it with a huge rich source of energy, like an atomic blast...
"I'll pass along your recommendation to the President," Robertson said. "He'll be pleased to know he made the right decision on the 7-12."
"You can congratulate him on his scientific insight, " Stone said, "for me."
Robertson was scratching his head. "I've got some more data on the Phantom crash. It was over the area west of Piedmont at twenty-three thousand feet. The post team has found evidence of the disintegration the pilot spoke of, but the material that was destroyed was a plastic of some kind. It was depolymerized."
"What does the post team make of that?"
"They don't know what the hell to make of it," Robertson admitted. "And there's something else. They found a few pieces of bone that have been identified as human. A bit of humerus and tibia. Notable because they are clean-- almost polished."
"Flesh burned away?"
"Doesn't look that way, " Robertson said.
Stone frowned at Leavitt.
"What does it look like?"
"It looks like clean, polished bone," Robertson said. "They say it's weird as hell. And there's something else. We checked into the National Guard around Piedmont. The 112th is stationed in a hundred-mile radius, and it turns out they've been running patrols into the area for a distance of fifty miles. They've had as many as one hundred men west of Piedmont. No deaths."
"None? You're quite sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Were there men on the ground in the area the Phantom flew over?"
"Yes. Twelve men. They reported the plane to the base, in fact."
Leavitt said, "Sounds like the plane crash is a fluke."
Stone nodded. To Robertson: "I'm inclined to agree with Peter. In the absence of fatalities on the ground..."
"Maybe it's only in the upper air."
"Maybe. But we know at least this much: we know how Andromeda kills. It does so by coagulation. Not disintegration, or bone-cleaning, or any other damned thing. By coagulation."
"All right," Robertson said, "let's forget the plane for the time being."
It was on that note that the meeting ended.
***
Stone said, "I think we'd better check our cultured organisms for biologic potency."
"Run some of them against a rat?"
Stone nodded. "Make sure it's still virulent. Still the same."
Leavitt agreed. They had to be careful the organism didn't mutate, didn't change to something radically different in its effects.
As they were about to start, the Level V monitor clicked on and said, "Dr. Leavitt. Dr. Leavitt."
Leavitt answered. On the computer screen was a pleasant young man in a white lab coat.
"Yes?"
"Dr. Leavitt, we have gotten our electroencephalograms back from the computer center. I'm sure it's all a mistake, but..."
His voice trailed off.
"Yes?" Leavitt said. "Is something wrong?"
"Well, sir, yours were read as grade four, atypical, probably benign. But we would like to run another set."
Stone said, "It must be a mistake."
"Yes," Leavitt said. "It must be."
"Undoubtedly, Sir," the man said. "But we would like another set of waves to be certain."
"I'm rather busy now," Leavitt said.
Stone broke in, talking directly to the technician. "Dr. Leavitt will get a repeat EEG when he has the chance."
"Very good, Sir," the technician said.
When the screen was blank, Stone said, "There are times when this damned routine gets on anybody's nerves."
Leavitt said, "Yes."
They were about to begin biologic testing of the various culture media when the computer flashed that preliminary reports from X-ray crystallography were prepared. Stone and Leavitt left the room to check the results, delaying the biologic tests of media. This was a most unfortunate decision, for had they examined the media, they would have seen that their thinking had already gone astray, and that they were on the wrong track.