Herbert, Frank - The Dragon in the Sea

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Frank Herbert

1955

initials BP Bureau of Psychology. He was a tall man, round faced,

with the soft appearance of overweight. Freckles spotted his pinkish

face, giving him the look of a grown-up Tom Sawyer.

"The admiral's usually a little slow answering," said the recep-

tionist.

Ramsey nodded, looked at the door beyond her. Gold lettering

on a heavy oak panel: CONFERENCE ROOM -- Sec. I. Security

One. Above the clatter of office sounds, he could hear the tooth-

tingling hum of a detection scrambler.

Through his mind passed the self-questionings he could never

avoid, the doubts that had made him a psychologist: If they have a

rough job for me, can I do it? What would happen if I turned it

down?

"You can rest that here on the desk," said the receptionist. She

pointed to a black wooden box, about a foot on a side, which Ram-

sey carried under his left arm.

"It's not heavy," he said. "Maybe the admiral didn't hear you the

first time. Could you try again?"

A wave of resentment swept over Ramsey. You insolent bitch, he

thought. I'll bet you don't date anything less than a full commander.

He wanted to say something biting, but the words wouldn't come.

The receptionist returned the sono-typer cup to her mouth, went

back to her typing.

I've been an ensign so long I'll even take lip from a WAVE yeo-

man, he thought. He turned his back on her, fell to musing. What

do they want with me? Could it be that trick on the Dolphin? No.

Obe would have said. This might be important, though. It could be

my big chance.

He heard the receptionist behind him take a sheet of paper from

her machine, replace it.

If I got a big assignment and came back a hero, she'd be the kind

who'd try to beat Janet's time with me. The world's full of 'em.

Why do they want me in Sec. I?

Obe had just said to bring the telemetering equipment for the re-

mote-control vampire gauge and show up on the Sec. I doorstep at

1400. Nothing more. Ramsey glanced at his wrist watch. A minute

to go.

hung over the scene.

"I'm Ensign Ramsey."

The captain glanced at the box under Ramsey's arm, stepped

aside. "Will you come in, please?"

Ramsey skirted the reception desk, entered the room. The cap-

tain closed the door, indicated a chair at the foot of the table. "Sit

there, please."

Where's the boss? Ramsey wondered. His gaze darted over the

room; then he saw Obe: a hollow-cheeked little civilian, straggly

goatee, thin bird features, seated between two burly commodores

like a prisoner under guard. The little civilian's radiation-blinded

eyes stared straight ahead. The mound of a radar bat-eye box atop

one shoulder gave him a curiously unbalanced appearance.

Ramsey sat down in the chair indicated, allowed himself an in-

ward chuckle at the thought of the two commodores guarding Dr.

Richmond Oberhausen, director of BuPsych. Obe could reduce

them to quivering jelly with ten words.

off the pain, opened his eyes, stared back at the men examining him.

He recognized several of the faces.

Very high braid.

Directly opposite at the other end of the table sat Admiral Bel-

land, ComSec, the high mogul of Security, a steely-eyed giant with

hook nose, thin slit of a mouth.

He looks like a pirate, thought Ramsey.

Admiral Belland cleared his throat in a hoarse rumble, said, "This

is the ensign we've been discussing, gentlemen."

Ramsey's eyebrows went up a notch. He looked to Dr. Oberhau-

sen's impassive face. The BuPsych chief appeared to be waiting.

"You know this ensign's Security rating," said Belland. "It's pre-

sumed we can talk freely in front of him. Would any of you care to

ask him --"

"Excuse me, please," Dr. Oberhausen arose from between the two

commodores with a slow, self-assured movement. "I have not ac-

quainted Mr. Ramsey with any of the particulars of this meeting. In

view of the assignment we have in mind, it would appear more hu-

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摘要：

FrankHerbert1955initialsBPBureauofPsychology.Hewasatallman,roundfaced,withthesoftappearanceofoverweight.Frecklesspottedhispinkishface,givinghimthelookofagrown-upTomSawyer."Theadmiral'susuallyalittleslowanswering,"saidtherecep-tionist.Ramseynodded,lookedatthedoorbeyondher.Goldletteringonaheavyoakpane...

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