Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction January
1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed.
NO SHIELD FROM THE DEAD
By Gordon R. Dickson
_No conceivable force could penetrate Terri's shield. Yet he
was defenseless._
* * * * *
It was a nice little party, but a bit obvious. Terri Mac saw through
it before he had taken half a dozen steps into the apartment. A light
flush staining his high cheek-bones. "This is ridiculous," he said.
The light chatter ceased. Cocktail glasses were set down on various
handy tables and ledges; and all faces in the room turned toward a man
in his late fifties who sat propped up invalid-wise on pillows in a
chair in a corner of the room.
"The Comptroller is perspicacious," said the old man, agreeably,
waving one hand in a casual manner. "On your way, children."
And the people present smiled and nodded. Quite as if it were an
ordinary leave-taking, they pushed past Terri Mac and filed out the
door. Even the blonde, Terri had picked up at the embassy ball and who
had brought him here, strolled off casually, but in a decidedly less
drunken fashion than she had exhibited earlier in the evening.
"Sit down," said the old man. Terri Mac did so, gazing searchingly at
the skinny frame and white eyebrows in an unsuccessful effort to
connect him with something in memory. "This is ridiculous," he
repeated.
"Really?" The old man smiled benignly. "And why so?"
"Why--" the situation was so obvious that Terri fumbled--a little at a
loss for words. "Obviously you intend some form of coercion, or else
you would have come to me along recognized channels. And any thought
of coercion is obviously--well, ridiculous."
"Why?"
"Why? You senile old fool, don't you know that I'm shielded? Don't you
know all government officials from the fifth class up wear complete
personal shields that are not only crack-proof but contain all the
necessary elements to support life independently within the shield
for more than twenty hours? Don't you know that I'll be missed in two
hours at the most and tracked down in less than sixty minutes more?
Are you crazy?"
The old man chuckled, rubbing dry hands together. He said, "I'm
shielded too. You can't get at me. And now the room's shielded. You
can't get out of it."
Terri stared at him. The initial shock was passing. His own statements
anent the completeness of his protection had brought back confidence,
and his natural coolness was returning. "What do you want?" he asked,
eyeing the other narrowly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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