Alarm Clock
ALARM CLOCK
by
EVERETT B. COLE
Illustrated by Van Dongen
_Most useful high explosives, like ammonium nitrate, are enormously violent ... once they're triggered. But they will remain seemingly inert when beaten, burned, variously punished--until the particular shock required comes along...._
Many years had passed since the original country rock had been broken,cut and set, to form solid pavement for the courtyard at OpertalPrison. And over those years the stones had suffered change ascountless feet, scuffing and pressing against once rough edges, hadsmoothed the bits of rock, burnishing their surfaces until the lightof the setting sun now reflected from them as from polished mosaic.
As Stan Graham crossed the wide expanse from library to cell block,his shoe soles added their small bit to the perfection of the age-oldpolish.
He looked up at the building ahead of him, noting the coarse,weathered stone of the walls. The severe, vertical lines of the massreminded him of Kendall Hall, back at the Stellar Guard Academy. Hesmiled wryly.
There were, he told himself, differences. People rarely left thisplace against their wishes. None had wanted to come here. Few had anydesire to stay. Whereas at the Academy--
How, he wondered, had those other guys they'd booted out really felt?None had complained--or even said much. They'd just packed their gearand picked up their tickets. There had been no expression offrustrated rage to approach his. Maybe there was something wrong withhim--some unknown fault that put him out of phase with all others.
He hadn't liked it at all.
His memory went back to his last conversation with Major Michaels. Theofficer had listened, then shaken his head decisively.
"Look, Graham, a re-examination wouldn't help. We just can't retainyou."
"But I'm sure--"
"No, it won't work. Your academic record isn't outstanding in any areaand Gravitics is one of the most important courses we've got."
"But I don't see how I could have bugged it, sir. I got a good gradeon the final examination."
"True, but there were several before that. And there were your dailygrades." Michaels glanced at the papers on his desk.
"I can't say what went wrong, but I think you missed something, wayback at the beginning. After that, things got worse and you ran out oftime. This is a pretty competitive place, you know, and we probablydrop some pretty capable men, but that's the way it is."
"Sir, I'm certain I know--"
"It isn't enough to know. You've got to know better than a lot ofother people."
Michaels got to his feet and came around the desk.
"Look, there's no disgrace in getting an academic tossout from here.You had to be way above average to get here. And very few people canmake it for one year, let alone three or four."
He raised a hand as Stan started to speak.
"I know. You think it looks as though you'd broken down somehow. Youdidn't. From the day you came here, everyone looked for weaknesses. Ifthere'd been a flaw, they'd have found it--and they'd have been on youtill you came apart--or the flaw disappeared. We lose people thatway." He shrugged.
"You didn't fall apart. They just got to you with some pretty roughtheory. You don't have to bow your head to anybody about that."
* * * * *
Stan looked at the heavily barred door before him.
"No," he told himself, "I don't suppose I'm the galaxy's prize boob,but I'm no high value shipment, either. I'm just some guy that notonly couldn't make the grade, but couldn't even make it home withoutgetting into trouble."
He pushed the door aside and went into the building, pausing for aninstant between two monitor pillars. There was no warning buzz and hecontinued on his way through a hallway.
He barely noticed his surroundings. Once, when he had first beenbrought here, he had studied the stone walls, the tiny, grilledwindows, the barred doors, with fascinated horror. But the feeling haddulled. They were just depressingly familiar surroundings now.
He stopped at a heavy metal grill and handed a slip through the bars.A bored guard turned, dropped the paper into a slot, then glanced at aviewplate. He nodded.
"All right, forty-two ninety. You're on time. Back to your cell." Hepunched a button and a gate slid aside.
Stan glanced at the cell fronts as he walked. Men were going abouttheir affairs. A few glanced at him as he passed, then looked away.Stan closed his eyes for an instant.
That much hadn't changed. At school, he had never been one with any ofthe cadet groups. He had been accepted at first, then coollytolerated, then shunted to the outer edges.
Oh, he'd had his friends, of course. There were those other oddballs,like Winton and Morgan. But they'd gone. For one reason or another,most of them had packed up and left long before he'd had his finalrun-in with the academic board.
And there had been Major Michaels. For a while, the officer had beenwarm--friendly. Stan could remember pleasant chats--peaceful hoursspent in the major's comfortable quarters. And he could rememberparties, with some pretty swell people around.
Then the older man had become a forbidding stranger. Stan had neverbeen able to think of a reason for that. Maybe it was because of thedecline in his academic work. Maybe he'd done something to offend.Maybe--
He shook the thoughts away, walked to a cell door, and stood waitingtill the guard touched the release button.
* * * * *
As Stan tossed his books on his bunk, Jak Holme raised his head andlooked across the cell.
"More of them books?"
"Yeah." Stan nodded. "Still trying to find out about this planet."
"You trying to be some kinda big politician when you get out?" Holmesnorted.
"Tell you, be better you try mixing with the guys, 'stead of pushing'em around with that fancy talk, making 'em jump now and then, see.You get along with 'em, you'll see. They'll tell you all you need. Beworking with some of 'em, too, remember?"
"Oh, I don't try to push anybody around." Stan perched on his bunk."Doesn't hurt anyone to study, though."
"Oh, sure." Holme grimaced. "Do you a lot of good, too. Guy's workingon some production run, it helps a lot he knows why all them big guysin the history books did them things, huh?" He laughed derisively.
"Sure it does! What they want, you should make that fabricator spitout nice parts, see?" He swelled his chest.
"Now me, I got my mind on my business, see. I get out of here, Ioughta make out pretty good." He looked around the cell.
"Didn't get no parole, see, so I get all the training. Real goodtrained machinist now, and I'm gonna walk out of here clean. Get a jobdown at the space-yards.
"Machinist helper, see? Then, soon's I been there a while, I'll get mypapers and go contract machinist. Real good money. Maybe you'd dobetter, you try that."
* * * * *
From the lower bunk, Big Carl Marlo laughed softly.
"Sure, kid, sure. You got it all made, huh? Pretty quick, you ownJanzel Equipment, huh? Hah! Know what happens, you go outside?
"Sure, they give you a job. Like you said, helper. They pay enough youget a pad and slop to keep you alive. That's all you get."
"Aw, now listen!" Holme started up.
Marlo wagged his head. "You go for papers, see? Naw! Got no papers forjailbirds. Staffman'll give you the word. He gets through pushing youaround, you go back, 'counta you don't know nothing else."
He laughed shortly.
"Gopher, that's you. You go fer this, and you go fer that. Slop and apad you get." He swung out of his bunk.
"Oh, sure, maybe they put you on a fabricator. Even let you set it upfor 'em. But that don't get you no extra pins." br />
Holme shook his head.
"Councilor gave me the word," he said stubbornly. "They need goodmachinists."
"Yeah." Marlo nodded. "Sure, they want graduates down at Talburg. Butthey ain't paying 'em for no contract machinist when they can keep 'emas helpers." He turned.
"Ain't that right, Pete?"
Karzer looked up from a bag he was packing.
"Yeah, yeah, that's right, Carl. I know a few guys once, tried playingthe legit. Got kicked around, see? Low pay. Staffman hammering on 'emall the time. Big joke when they try to get more for themselves.
"Yeah, big joke. They get