The Jupiter Plague

“Confusion or not, there should have been a report. Excuse me, Doctor, I’m not criticizing you, I realize that the situation is confused as well as you do. I just wish to stress again that anything that has a bearing on Rand’s disease — no matter how trivial it may seem — must be reported to me at once. Now please continue. You seem to feel that eventually Rand’s disease will become contagious in humans?”

“I’m afraid I can’t back the idea up with any facts, Professor. The disease is alien, we all admit that, and we can see that it conforms to alien laws of some kind, a growing or a changing brought on by passing through various hosts, from man to bird then to man, back and forth until suddenly it gains the capacity to infect dogs. And after passing from dog to man a number of times — then what? I have a feeling that there will be another change; it is not altogether impossible considering what has gone before, perhaps to another species of host. Or perhaps the final mutation to full contagiousness, that would seem only normal — what is abnormal is the present arrangement of inability for one human host to infect another.”

“It could happen,” Chabel said, nodding agreement. “Though I pray it doesn’t. But whether it does or not we must be aware of the danger and I suggest a program of research into the possibility be instituted at once. Dr. Perkins, what arrangements do you suggest?”

There was a hum of cross talk as the required work was apportioned to various teams. Speaking softly, Sam leaned toward Nita and asked, “Why did you take Perkins off the hook?”

“I had to, Sam. With McKay out he’s doing two men’s work and we can’t hang him for one mistake. You can’t rock the boat.”

“Don’t rock the boat — that was what Perkins said — and I’d like to tip it right over. He made a bad mistake in not taking your report to Chabel and it should be mentioned and he should be canned. This is no time for mistakes.”

“Aren’t you being personally vindictive?”

“No, I’m not! Though I admit I would enjoy seeing it happen — no, it’s more than that. He’s the wrong man for the job, he proved that, and as long as he is acting for McKay we are going to have trouble…”

The rapping of the gavel interrupted him. Professor Chabel spoke.

“Thank you for your reports. Now I would like to tell you my reasons for asking for them. The Emergency Council of the UN has been in continuous session, with the American chiefs of staff and the President as you know, and a decision has been reached. Within a few hours we are going to begin what the Army has given the dramatic title of Operation Cleensweep, a concerted effort to halt the spread of Rand’s disease at once. Zone Red, this is roughly the circular area within which the disease is now confined, will be evacuated completely. We are already beginning to move the inhabitants into a series of quarantine camps. As soon as all the developing cases of Rand’s disease have appeared and have been separated, and the incubation period has been exceeded, these people will be lifted out of Zone Red. We are already widening Zone Blue, which is a strip of no-man’s land that circles Zone Red, a dead zone. We are bulldozing and leveling it, using explosives and flamethrowers where necessary, and spreading poison bait through it. Zone Blue is now about two hundred yards wide on the average and when it is done we hope it will be at least a half a mile. If nothing happens to upset our schedule we should have Zone Blue completed at the same time Zone Red is completely evacuated.

“Then Zone Red will be sown by air with radio-actives having a half-life of two months.”

A stunned silence followed his words as they tried to understand the magnitude of it. Over eight thousand square miles of the most metropolitan area in the world would be dead and depopulated. New York City, Newark, Philadelphia, ghost cities from which man had fled and where every bird, insect and animal down to the microscopic life in the soil would be dead. Chabel’s voice continued tonelessly and grimly.

“This will have to be done at once, because the world is afraid. As long as the disease is localized and only vectored by animals Operation Clean-sweep will continue.” His voice dropped, so low that it could be barely heard. “This program, you must realize, is really a compromise. The people of the world are living in fear and they have a right to be. The only alternative acceptable was to drop a hydrogen bomb on Zone Red at once…”

He could not go in the face of horrified expressions before him; he lowered his head, an old man who had been forced to be the mouthpiece of other people’s terror — and threats.