Starman by Alan Dean Foster Read Free Book Online Page B

as the S-76 settled down in the impact area. They were smaller Hueys, flying patrol. Farther off Shermin saw a fully armed Apache keeping watch on the lake. Woe to any curious pilots of private aircraft who unwisely strayed into this off-limits chunk of airspace.
    “Watch yourself out there, man,” said Lemon as Shermin stepped out, still cradling his helmet under one arm.
    “Yeah, sure.” Useless warning, nice thought. There was nothing here to watch out for. Or was there?
    That was one of the things he’d been sent to find out.
    Air-force insignia decorated the shoulders of several men working around the edge of the crater. They wore suits similar to Shermin’s and went at their assignments with single-minded dedication and in complete silence. The Geiger counters and similar paraphernalia they were using looked right up to date, Shermin decided.
    He was wondering whether or not he should match their attire by donning his own helmet when an air-force major climbed out of the crater in front of him. The officer also wore a suit, but like Shermin, carried his helmet. Shermin breathed a sigh of relief. He suffered from slight claustrophobia. Not having to wear the helmet was the nicest thing that had happened to him in two days.
    The officer saw him standing there and swerved to meet him. That wasn’t surprising. Shermin knew he was expected.
    They shook hands. “I’m Major Bell, Cletus Bell.”
    “Mark Shermin.” The major didn’t ask what he was doing there. No one got within five miles of the impact crater unless they’d already been cleared at a much higher level than the major usually dealt with.
    Shermin started toward the ridge of earth that ringed the excavation. “It’s clean?”
    “No radioactivity, if that’s what you mean. You’d get more rads standing next to a microwave. No bacteria readings, either.”
    “That’s no surprise.” Shermin nodded toward the crater. “Even assuming there were any they would’ve been vaporized in the first flash of heat during impact.”
    Bell went silent for a moment, finally asked, “You’re attached to National Security?”
    “Not very.” He considered. Bell had a right to know more. He wasn’t a chopper radioman. “I just work for them occasionally. On loan, like a library book. Didn’t you know that we consultants really run the country? Actually, my full time interests lie with SETI.”
    Bell frowned. “You’re a whale expert?”
    Shermin smiled. “No, that’s CETI. SETI is the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence.”
    The major’s eyebrows rose. “Things must be kind of slow between Spielberg films. So they’re sending you guys out on meteorites now, huh? I thought they’d send a geologist.” He nodded distastefully toward the crater. “I can tell you now there’s no diamonds.”
    “Diamonds?” Now it was Shermin’s turn to frown.
    “These guys think it’s a meteorite, everybody starts looking for diamonds. Heat and pressure, carbon, and slow wits.” He shook his head. “So you’re looking at meteorites now? I wouldn’t think someone with your interests would find them worth checking out.”
    “Only the ones that change course.”
    That brought Bell up short. “Change course? Can they do that?”
    “This one did. Or else some airhead at NORAD misread a glitch on his instrumentation.”
    Bell indicated the activity around the crater, the men busy in their decontamination suits, the circling helicopters, the others searching methodically through the woods for they knew not what but searching diligently nonetheless.
    “If so I’ll bet he’s sweating now. I didn’t think they could move troops this fast anymore. Something’s got somebody excited.” He stared straight at Shermin. “Do they have reason to be?”
    Shermin shrugged. “Beats me. I just got here.” He nodded toward the crater. “Let’s have a look.”
    “Sure. Not a whole lot to see.”
    They climbed the earthen berm and looked down into the hole. Lying