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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/32339-h.zip b/32339-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..03de418 --- /dev/null +++ b/32339-h.zip diff --git a/32339-h/32339-h.htm b/32339-h/32339-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe5020b --- /dev/null +++ b/32339-h/32339-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2524 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Brink Of Madness, by Walt Sheldon. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Brink of Madness, by Walter J. Sheldon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Brink of Madness + +Author: Walter J. Sheldon + +Illustrator: Kelly Freas + +Release Date: May 12, 2010 [EBook #32339] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRINK OF MADNESS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + +<h1>BRINK OF MADNESS</h1> + +<h2>By Walt Sheldon</h2> + +<h3>Illustrated by KELLY FREAS</h3> + +<p>[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from If Worlds of Science +Fiction July 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<h3><a href="#Chapter_I">Chapter I</a></h3> +<h3><a href="#Chapter_II">Chapter II</a></h3> +<h3><a href="#Chapter_III">Chapter III</a></h3> +<h3><a href="#Chapter_IV">Chapter IV</a></h3> +<h3><a href="#Chapter_V">Chapter V</a></h3> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_I" id="Chapter_I"></a>Chapter I</h2> + + +<p>The night the visitors came Richard Pell worked late among the great +banks of criminological computers. He whistled to himself, knowing that +he was way off key but not caring. Ciel, his wife, was still in his +mind's eye; he'd seen her on the viewer and talked with her not ten +minutes ago.</p> + +<div class="sidenote"><i>C.I.B. Agent Pell used his head, even if he did rely on +hunches more than on the computer. In fact, when the game got rough, he +found that to use his head, he first had to keep it....</i></div> + +<p>"Be home shortly, baby," he'd said, "soon as I fill in a form or two."</p> + +<p>"All right, dear. I'll wait," she'd answered, with just the slightest +tone of doubt.</p> + +<p>It was an important night. It was at once their second anniversary and +the beginning of their second honeymoon. Just how Pell—knobby, more or +less homely, and easygoing—had won himself a lovely, long-limbed blonde +like Ciel was something of a mystery to many of their friends. She could +hardly have married him for his money. Central Investigation Bureau +agents were lucky if all their extras and bonuses brought them up to a +thousand credits a year.</p> + +<p>Pell had unquestionably caught her in a romantic moment. Maybe that was +part of the trouble—part of the reason they needed this second +honeymoon, this period of re-acquaintance so badly. Being the wife of a +C.I.B. agent meant sitting at home nine-tenths of the time while he was +working on a case, and then not hearing about the case for security +reasons during the one-tenth of the time he was with her.</p> + +<p>Four times now Pell had been ready to take his vacation; four times last +minute business had come up. No more, though, by golly. Tonight he'd get +out of here just as quickly as....</p> + +<p>The Identifier, beyond the door, began to hum. That meant somebody was +putting his hand to the opaque screen, and if the scanner recognized the +fingerprints the door would open. Pell scowled at the bulky shadows +outside.</p> + +<p>"Go away, whoever you are," he muttered to himself.</p> + +<p>Some of the other agents were out there, no doubt; they were always +getting sudden inspirations late at night and returning to use the +computers again. In fact, it had been tactfully suggested to Agent +Richard Pell that he might use the computers a little more himself +instead of relying on hunches as he so often did. "Investigation's a +cold science, not a fancy art," Chief Larkin was fond of saying to the +group—with his eyes on Pell.</p> + +<p>Well, whoever it was, Pell was definitely through. No time-wasting +conversation for him! He was ready for six glorious weeks of saved-up +vacation time. He and Ciel, early tomorrow, would grab a rocket for one +of the Moon resorts, and there they'd just loaf and relax and pay +attention to each other. Try to regain whatever it was they'd had....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The door opened and Chief Larkin walked in.</p> + +<p>Chief Eustace J. Larkin was tall, in his forties, but still boyishly +handsome. He dressed expensively and well. He was dynamic and confident +and he always had about him just the faintest aroma of very expensive +shaving cologne. He had a Master's degree in criminology and his rise to +the post of Director, C.I.B., had been sudden, dramatic and impressive. +Not the least of his talents was a keen sense of public relations.</p> + +<p>"I—uh—was on my way out," said Pell. He reached for his hat. Funny +about hats: few people traveled topside anymore, and in the +climate-conditioned tunnels you didn't need a hat. But C.I.B. agents had +to be neat and dignified; regulations required hats and ties and cuffs +and lapels. Thus, you could always spot a C.I.B. agent a mile away.</p> + +<p>Larkin had a dimple when he smiled and Pell would bet he knew it. "We'd +have called your home if we hadn't found you here. Sit down, Dick."</p> + +<p>Pell sat glumly. For the first time, he noticed the men who had come in +with the Chief. He recognized both. One was fiftyish, tall, +solidly-built and well-dressed on the conservative side. His face was +strong, square and oddly pale, as if someone had taken finest white +marble and roughly hacked a face into it. Pell had seen that face in +faxpapers often. The man was Theodor Rysland, once a wealthy corporation +lawyer, now a World Government adviser in an unofficial way. Some +admired him as a selfless public servant; others swore he was a +power-mad tyrant. Few were indifferent.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you recognize Mr. Rysland," said Chief Larkin, smiling. "And +this is Dr. Walter Nebel, of the World Department of Education."</p> + +<p>Dr. Walter Nebel was slight and had a head remarkably tiny in proportion +to the rest of him. He wore cropped hair. His eyes were turtle-lidded +and at first impression sleepy, and then, with a second look—wary. Pell +remembered that he had won fame some time ago by discovering the +electrolytic enzyme in the thought process. Pell wasn't sure exactly +what this was, but the faxpapers had certainly made a fuss about it at +the time.</p> + +<p>He shook hands with the two men and then said to Larkin, "What's up?"</p> + +<p>"Patience," said Larkin and shuffled chairs into place.</p> + +<p>Rysland sat down solidly and gravely; Nebel perched. Rysland looked at +Pell with a strong, level stare and said, "It's my sincere hope that +this meeting tonight will prevent resumption of the war with Venus."</p> + +<p>Larkin said, "Amen."</p> + +<p>Pell stared back in some surprise. High-level stuff!</p> + +<p>Rysland saw his stare and chuckled. "Chief Larkin tells me your +sympathies are more or less Universalist. Not that it would be +necessary, but it helps."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Pell, with mild bewilderment. The difference between the +Universal and Defense parties was pretty clear-cut. The Universalists +hoped to resume full relations with Venus and bring about a really +secure peace through friendship and trade. It would admittedly be a +tough struggle, and the Defenders didn't think it was possible. Forget +Venus, said they; fortify Earth, keep the line of demarcation on Mars, +and sit tight.</p> + +<p>"But there is, as you may know," said Rysland, "a third course in our +relations with Venus."</p> + +<p>"There is?" asked Pell. From the corner of his eye he saw Chief Larkin +looking at him with an expression of—what, amusement? Yes, amusement, +largely, but with a touch of contempt, too, perhaps. Hard to say.</p> + +<p>"The third course," said Rysland, not smiling, "would be to attack Venus +again, resume the war, and hope to win quickly. We know Venus is +exhausted from the recent struggle. A sudden, forceful attack might +possibly subjugate her. At least, that is the argument of a certain +group called the Supremists."</p> + +<p>Dr. Nebel spoke for the first time. Pell realized that the man had been +watching him closely. His voice was sibilant; it seemed to drag itself +through wet grass. "Also Venus is psychologically unprepared for war; +the Supremists believe that, too."</p> + +<p>Pell reached back into his memory. The Supremists. They were a minor +political party—sort of a cult, too. The outfit had sprung up in the +last year or so. Supremists believed that Earthmen, above all other +creatures, had a destiny—were chosen—were supreme. They had several +followers as delegates in World Congress. General impression: slightly +crackpot.</p> + +<p>"The Supremists," said Theodor Rysland, tapping his hard, white palm, +and leaning forward, "have been calling for attack. Aggression. Starting +the war with Venus all over again. And they're not only a vociferous +nuisance. They have an appeal in this business of Earthman's supremacy. +They're gaining converts every day. In short, <i>they've now become +dangerous</i>."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Pell thought it over as Rysland talked. Certainly the idea of renewed +war was nightmarish. He'd been in the last one: who hadn't? It had +started in 2117, the year he was born, and it had dragged on for +twenty-five years until T-day and the truce. The causes? Well, both +Earth and Venus worked the mineral deposits on Mars unimpeded by the +non-intelligent insectile life on that planet, and the original +arguments had been about those mineral deposits, though there were +enough for a dozen planets there. The causes were more complicated and +obscure than that. Semantics, partly. There was freedom as Earthmen saw +it and freedom as the Venusians saw it. Same with honor and good and +evil. They were always two different things. And then Venusians had a +greenish tinge to their skins and called the Earthmen, in their clicking +language, "Pink-faces." And both Earthmen and Venusians hated like the +devil to see the other get away with anything.</p> + +<p>Anyway, there had been war, terrible war. Space battle, air battle, +landing, repulse. Stalemate. Finally, through utter weariness perhaps, +truce. Now, a taut, uneasy, suspicious peace. Communications opened, a +few art objects mutually exchanged. Immigration for a few Venusian +dancers or students or diplomats. It wasn't much, but it was all in the +right direction. At least Pell felt so.</p> + +<p>Rysland was saying: "We're not sure, of course, but we suspect—we +<i>feel</i>—that more than mere accident may be behind these Supremists."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"Someone seeking power, perhaps. As I said, we don't know. We want to +find out. Dr. Nebel has been interested for some time in the curious +psychology of these Supremists—their blind, unthinking loyalty to their +cause, for instance. He is, as you know, a special assistant in the +Department of Education. He asked my help in arranging for an +investigation, and I agreed with him wholeheartedly that one should be +made."</p> + +<p>"And I told these gentlemen," said Chief Larkin, "that I'd put a detail +on it right away."</p> + +<p>Now Pell believed he saw through it. Larkin didn't believe it was +important at all; he was just obliging these Vips. A man couldn't have +too many friends in World Government circles, after all. But of course +Larkin couldn't afford to put one of his bright, machine-minded boys on +it, and so Pell was the patsy.</p> + +<p>"Could I remind you," said Pell, "that my vacation is supposed to start +tomorrow?"</p> + +<p>"Now, now, Dick," said Larkin, turning on the personality, "this won't +take you long. Just a routine report. The computers ought to give you +all the information you need in less than a day."</p> + +<p>"That's what you always say, every time I'm ready to take a vacation. +I've been saving up for two years now...."</p> + +<p>"Dick, that's hardly the right attitude for an agent who is so close to +making second grade."</p> + +<p>Larkin had him over a barrel, there. Pell desperately wanted to make his +promotion. Second-graders didn't spend their time at the control banks +gathering data; they did mostly desk work and evaluation. They had a +little more time to spend with their wives. He said, "Okay, okay," and +got up.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"To get my wife on the viewer and tell her I won't be home for a while +after all."</p> + +<p>He left the three of them chuckling and thought: <i>He jests at scars who +never felt a wound.</i> He didn't say it aloud. You could quote formulae or +scientific precepts in front of Larkin, but not Shakespeare.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He punched out his home number and waited until Ciel's image swirled +into the viewplate. His heart went boppety-bop as it always did. Hair of +polished gold. Dark eyes, ripe olives, a little large for her face and +sometimes deep and fathomless. She wore a loose, filmy nightgown and the +suggestion of her body under it was enough to bring on a touch of +madness in him.</p> + +<p>"Let me say it," Ciel said. She wasn't smiling. "You won't be home for a +while. You've got another case."</p> + +<p>"Well—yes. That's it, more or less." Pell swallowed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dick."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, honey. It's just that something important came up. I've got +a conference on my hands. It shouldn't take more than an hour."</p> + +<p>"And we were supposed to leave for the moon in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Listen, baby, this is absolutely the last time. I mean it. As soon as +this thing is washed up we'll <i>really</i> take that vacation. Look, I'll +tell you what, I'll meet you somewhere in an hour. We'll have some +fun—take in a floor show—drink a little meth. We haven't done that in +a long time. How about the Stardust Cafe? I hear they've got a terrific +new mentalist there."</p> + +<p>Ciel said, "No."</p> + +<p>"Don't be like that. We need an evening out. It'll hold us until I get +this new case washed up. That won't be long, but at least we'll have a +little relaxation."</p> + +<p>Ciel said, "Well...."</p> + +<p>"Attababy. One hour. Absolutely. You just go to Station B-90, take the +lift to topside and it's right on Shapley Boulevard there. You can't +miss it."</p> + +<p>"I know where it is," said Ciel. She shook her finger. "Richard Pell, so +help me, if you stand me up this time...."</p> + +<p>"Baby!" he said in a tone of deep injury.</p> + +<p>"Goodbye, Dick." She clicked off.</p> + +<p>Pell had the feeling that even the free-flowing meth and the gaiety of +the Stardust Cafe wouldn't really help matters much. He sighed deeply as +he turned and went back into the other room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_II" id="Chapter_II"></a>Chapter II</h2> + + +<p>A little over an hour later he stepped from the elevator kiosk at +Station B-90 and breathed the night air of topside. It was less pure +actually than the carefully controlled tunnel air, but it was somehow +infinitely more wonderful. At least to a sentimental primitive boob like +Richard Pell, it was. Oh, he knew that it was infinitely more sensible +to live and work entirely underground as people did these days—but just +the same he loved the look of the black sky with the crushed diamonds of +stars thrown across it and he loved the uneven breeze and the faint +smell of trees and grass.</p> + +<p>This particular topside section was given over to entertainment; all +about him were theaters and cafes and picnic groves and airports for +flying sports. A few hundred feet ahead he could see the +three-dimensional atmospheric projection that marked the Stardust Cafe, +and he could hear faintly the mournful sound of a Venusian lament being +played by the askarins. He was glad they hadn't banned Venusian music, +anyway, although he wouldn't be surprised if they did, some day.</p> + +<p>That was one of the things these Supremists were trying to do. Rysland +and Chief Larkin had given him a long and careful briefing on the outfit +so that he could start work tomorrow with his partner, Steve Kronski. +Steve, of course, would shrug phlegmatically, swing his big shoulders +toward the computer rooms and say, "Let's go to work." It would be just +another assignment to him.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the job would be not without a certain amount of +interest. There were a couple of puzzling things about these Supremists +that Rysland had pointed out. First of all, they didn't seem to be at +all organized or incorporated. No headquarters, no officers that anybody +knew about. They just <i>were</i>. It was a complete mystery how a man became +a Supremist, how they kept getting new members all the time. Yet you +couldn't miss a Supremist whenever you met one. Before the conversation +was half over he'd start spouting about the destiny of Earthmen and the +general inferiority of all other creatures and so on. It sounded like +hogwash to Pell. He wondered how such an attitude could survive in a +scientific age.</p> + +<p>Nor would a Supremist be essentially a moron or a neurotic; they were +found in all walks of life, at all educational and emotional levels. +Rysland told how he had questioned a few, trying to discover when, where +and how they joined the movement: Apparently there was nothing to join, +at least to hear them tell it. They just knew one day that they were +Supremists, and that was the word. Rysland had shaken his head sadly and +said, "Their belief is completely without logic—and maybe that's what +makes it so strong. Maybe that's what frightens me about it."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Okay, tomorrow then Pell would tackle it. Tomorrow he'd think about it. +Right now he had a date with his best girl.</p> + +<p>He entered the cafe and the music of the askarins swirled more loudly +about his head and he looked through the smoke and colored light until +he spotted Ciel sitting in a rear booth. The place was crowded. On the +small dance floor before the orchestra nearly nude Venusian girls were +going through the writhing motions of a serpentine dance. Their greenish +skins shimmered iridescently. The sad-faced Venusian musicians on the +band-stand waved their graceful, spatulated fingers over their curious, +boxlike askarins, producing changing tones and overtones by the altered +capacitance. A rocketman in the black and silver uniform of the Space +Force was trying to stumble drunkenly out on to the floor with the +dancers and his friends were holding him back. There was much laughter +about the whole thing. The Venusian girls kept dancing and didn't change +their flat, almost lifeless expressions.</p> + +<p>Ciel looked up without smiling when he got to the booth. She had a +half-finished glass of meth before her.</p> + +<p>He tried a smile anyway. "Hello, baby." He sat down.</p> + +<p>She said, "I didn't really think you'd get here. I could have had dates +with exactly eleven spacemen. I kept count."</p> + +<p>"You have been faithful to me, Cynara, in your fashion. I need a drink +and don't want to wait for the waitress. Mind?" He took her half glass +of meth and tossed it down. He felt the wonderful illusion of an +explosion in his skull, and it seemed to him that his body was suddenly +the strongest in the world and that he could whip everybody in the joint +with one arm tied behind his back. He said, "Wow."</p> + +<p>Ciel tried a smile now. "It does that to you when you're not used to +it."</p> + +<p>The first effect passed and he felt only the warmth of the drink. He +signaled a waitress and ordered a couple more. "Don't forget to remind +me to take a hangover pill before I go to work in the morning," he told +Ciel.</p> + +<p>"You—you are going to work in the morning, then?"</p> + +<p>"Afraid I can't get out of it."</p> + +<p>"And the moon trip's off?"</p> + +<p>"Not off, just postponed. We'll get to it, don't worry."</p> + +<p>"Dick."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I can take it just so long, putting our vacation off and off and off." +Her eyes were earnest, liquid and opaque. "I've been thinking about it. +Trying to arrive at something. I'm beginning to wonder, Dick, if maybe +we hadn't just better, well—call it quits, or something."</p> + +<p>He stared at her. "Baby, what are you saying?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A sudden, fanfare-like blast from the orchestra interrupted. They looked +at the dance floor. There was a flash of light, a swirling of mist, and +within the space of a second the Venusian girls suddenly disappeared and +their place was taken by a tall, hawk-nosed, dark-eyed man with a cloak +slung dramatically over one shoulder. The audience applauded.</p> + +<p>"That's Marco, the new mentalist," said Pell.</p> + +<p>Ciel shrugged to show that she wasn't particularly impressed. Neither +was Pell, to tell the truth. Mentalists were all the rage, partly +because everybody could practice a little amateur telepathy and +hypnotism in his own home. Mentalists, of course, made a career of it +and were much better at it than anybody else.</p> + +<p>Their drinks came and they watched Marco go through his act in a rather +gloomy silence. Marco was skillful, but not especially unusual. He did +the usual stuff: calling out things that people wrote on slips of paper, +calling out dates on coins, and even engaging in mental duels wherein +the challenger wrote a phrase, concealed it from Marco, and then +deliberately tried to keep him from reading it telepathically. He had +the usual hypnotism session with volunteers who were certain they could +resist. He made them hop around the stage like monkeys, burn their +fingers on pieces of ice, and so on. The audience roared with laughter. +Pell and Ciel just kept staring.</p> + +<p>When Marco had finished his act and the thundering applause had faded +the Venusian dancing girls came back on the stage again.</p> + +<p>Ciel yawned.</p> + +<p>Pell said, "Me, too. Let's get out of here."</p> + +<p>It wasn't until they were home in their underground apartment and +getting ready for bed that Ciel turned to him and said, "You see?"</p> + +<p>He was buttoning his pajamas. "See what?"</p> + +<p>"It's <i>us</i>, Dick. It's not the floor show, or the meth, or +anything—it's <i>us</i>. We can't enjoy <i>anything</i> together any more."</p> + +<p>He said, "Now wait a minute...."</p> + +<p>But she had already stepped into the bedroom and slammed the door. He +heard the lock click.</p> + +<p>"Hey," he said, "what am I supposed to do, sleep out here?"</p> + +<p>He took the ensuing silence to mean that he was.</p> + +<p>And he did.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The next morning, as he came into the office, Pell scowled deeply and +went to his desk without saying good morning to anybody. Ciel had kept +herself locked in the bedroom and he had made his own breakfast. How it +was all going to end he didn't know. He had the feeling that she was +working herself up to the decision to leave him. And the real hell of it +was that he couldn't exactly blame her.</p> + +<p>"Morning, partner," said a voice above him. He looked up. Way up. Steve +Kronski was built along the general lines of a water buffalo. The usual +battered grin was smeared across his face. "I see we got a new +assignment."</p> + +<p>"Oh—did Larkin brief you on it already?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. Before I could get my hat off. Funny set-up, all right. I punched +for basic data before you got in. Hardly any."</p> + +<p>"Maybe that means something in itself. Maybe somebody saw to it that the +information never got into the central banks."</p> + +<p>The C.I.B. computers could be hooked into the central banks which stored +information on nearly everything and everybody. If you incorporated, +filed for a patent, paid taxes, voted, or just were born, the central +banks had an electronic record of it.</p> + +<p>Kronski jerked his thumb toward the computer room. "I punched for names +of Supremist members coupla minutes ago. Thought maybe we could start in +that way."</p> + +<p>Pell followed, his mind not really on the job yet. He wasn't at his best +working with the computers, and yet operating them was ninety per cent +of investigation. He supposed he'd get used to it sometime.</p> + +<p>Three walls of the big computer room were lined with control racks, +consisting mostly of keyboard setups. Code symbols and index cards were +placed in handy positions. The C.I.B. circuits, of course, were adapted +to the specialized work of investigation. In the memory banks of tubes +and relays there was a master file of all names—aliases and nicknames +included—with which the organization had ever been concerned. +Criminals, witnesses, complaints, everyone. Code numbers linked to the +names showed where data on their owner could be found. A name picked at +random might show that person to have data in the suspect file, the +arrest file, the psychological file, the modus operandi file, and so +forth. Any of the data in these files could be checked, conversely, +against the names.</p> + +<p>Kronski walked over to where letter sized cards were flipping from a +slot into a small bin. He said, "Didn't even have to dial in Central +Data for these. Seems we got a lot of Supremist members right in our own +little collection."</p> + +<p>Pell picked up one of the cards and examined it idly. Vertical columns +were inscribed along the card, each with a heading, and with further +sub-headed columns. Under the column marked <i>Modus Operandi</i>, for +instance, there were subcolumns titled <i>Person Attacked</i>, <i>Property +Attacked</i>, <i>How Attacked</i>, <i>Means of Attack</i>, <i>Object of Attack</i>, and +<i>Trademark</i>. Columns of digits, one to nine, were under each item. If +the digits 3 and 2 were punched under <i>Trademark</i> the number 32 could be +fed into the Operational Data machine and this machine would then give +back the information on a printed slip that number 32 stood for the +trademark of leaving cigar butts at the scene of the crime.</p> + +<p>"Got five hundred now," said Kronski. "I'll let a few more run in case +we need alternates."</p> + +<p>"Okay," said Pell. "I'll start this batch through the analyzer."</p> + +<p>He took the cards across the room to a machine about twenty feet long +and dropped them into the feeder at one end. Channels and rollers ran +along the top of this machine and under them were a series of vertical +slots into which the selected cards could drop. He cleared the previous +setting and ran the pointer to <i>Constants</i>. He set the qualitative dial +to 85%. This meant that on the first run the punch hole combinations in +the cards would be scanned and any item common to 85% of the total would +be registered in a relay. Upon the second run the machine would select +the cards with this constant and drop them into a slot corresponding +with that heading. Further scanning, within the slot itself, would pick +out the constant number.</p> + +<p>Pell started the rollers whirring.</p> + +<p>Kronski came over. He rubbed his battered nose. "Hope we get outside on +this case. I'm gettin' sick o' the office. Haven't been out in weeks."</p> + +<p>Pell nodded. Oh, for the life of a C.I.B. man. In teleplays they +cornered desperate criminals in the dark ruins of the ancient cities +topside, and fought it out with freezers. The fact was, although +regulations called for them to carry freezers in their shoulder +holsters, one in a thousand ever got a chance to use them.</p> + +<p>Pell said, "Maybe you need a vacation."</p> + +<p>"Maybe. Only I keep putting my vacation off. Got a whole month saved up +now."</p> + +<p>"Me, too." Pell sighed. Ciel would probably be pacing the floor back +home now, trying to make up her mind. To break it up, or not to break it +up? There would be no difficulty, really: she had been a pretty good +commercial artist before they were married and she wouldn't have any +trouble finding a job again somewhere in World City.</p> + +<p>The rollers kept whirring and the cards flipping along with a whispering +sound.</p> + +<p>"Wonder what we're looking into these Supremists for?" asked Kronski. "I +always thought they were some kind of harmless crackpots."</p> + +<p>"The Chief doesn't think so. Neither does Theodor Rysland." He told +Kronski more about the interview last night.</p> + +<p>Presently the machine stopped, clicked several times and began rolling +the other way.</p> + +<p>"Well, it found something," said Kronski.</p> + +<p>They kept watching. Oh, for the life of a C.I.B. man. Cards began to +drop into one of the slots. The main heading was <i>Physical</i> and the +sub-heading <i>Medical History</i>. Pell frowned and said, "Certainly didn't +expect to find a constant in this department." He picked up a few of the +first cards and looked at them, hoping to catch the constant by eye. He +caught it. "What's 445 under this heading?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Kronski said, "I'll find out," and stepped over to the Operational Data +board. He worked it, took the printed slip that came out and called +back: "Record of inoculation."</p> + +<p>"That's a funny one."</p> + +<p>"Yup. Sure is." Kronski stared at the slip and scratched his neck. "It +must be just any old kind inoculation. If it was special—like typhoid +or tetanus or something—it'd have another digit."</p> + +<p>"There must be some other boil-downs, if we could think of them." Pell +was frowning heavily. Some of the other men, used to the machines, could +grab a boil-down out of thin air, run the cards again and get another +significant constant. The machine, however, inhibited Pell. It made him +feel uneasy and stupid whenever he was around it.</p> + +<p>"How about location?" suggested Kronski.</p> + +<p>Pell shook his head. "I checked a few by eye. All different numbers +under location. Some of 'em come from World City, some from Mars +Landing, some from way out in the sticks. Nothing significant there."</p> + +<p>"Maybe what we need is a cup of coffee."</p> + +<p>Pell grinned. "Best idea all morning. Come on."</p> + +<p>Some minutes later they sat across from each other at a table in the big +cafeteria on the seventy-third level. It was beginning to be crowded now +with personnel from other departments and bureaus. The coffee urge came +for nearly everybody in the government offices at about the same time. +Pell was studying by eye a handful of spare data cards he'd brought +along and Kronski was reading faxpaper clippings from a large manila +envelope marked <i>Supremist Party</i>. Just on a vague hunch Pell had +viewplated Central Public Relations and had them send the envelope down +by tube.</p> + +<p>"<i>Prominent Educator Addresses Supremist Rally</i>," Kronski muttered. +"<i>Three Spaceport Cargomen Arrested at Supremist Riot. Young Supremists +Form Rocket Club.</i> Looks like anybody and everybody can be a Supremist. +And his grandmother. Wonder how they do it?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know." Pell wasn't really listening.</p> + +<p>"And here's a whole town went over to the Supremists. On the moon."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh," said Pell.</p> + +<p>Kronski sipped his coffee loudly. A few slender, graceful young men from +World Commerce looked at him distastefully. "Happened just this year. +New Year they all went over. Augea, in the Hercules Mountains. Big +celebration."</p> + +<p>Pell looked up and said, "Wait a minute...."</p> + +<p>"Wait for what? I'm not goin' anywhere. Not on this swivel-chair of a +job, damn it."</p> + +<p>"New Year they all become Supremists. And the last week of December +everybody on the moon gets his inoculations, right?"</p> + +<p>"Search me."</p> + +<p>"But I know that. I found that out when I was tailing those two gamblers +who had a place on the moon, remember?"</p> + +<p>"So it may be a connection." Kronski shrugged.</p> + +<p>"It may be the place where we can study a bunch of these cases in a +batch instead of picking 'em one by one."</p> + +<p>"You mean we oughta take a trip to the moon?"</p> + +<p>"Might not hurt for a few days."</p> + +<p>Kronski was grinning at him.</p> + +<p>"What are you grinning at?"</p> + +<p>"First you got to stay over on your vacation, so you can't go to the +moon with your wife. Now all of a sudden you decide duty has got to take +you to the moon, huh?"</p> + +<p>Pell grinned back then. "What are you squawking about? You said you +wanted to get out on this case."</p> + +<p>Kronski, still grinning, got up. "I'm not complaining. I'm just +demonstrating my powers of deduction, as they say in teleplays. Come on, +let's go make rocket reservations."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_III" id="Chapter_III"></a>Chapter III</h2> + + +<p>The big tourist rocket let them down at the Endymion Crater Landing, and +they went through the usual immigration and customs formalities in the +underground city there. They stayed in a hotel overnight, Pell and Ciel +looking very much like tourists, Kronski tagging along and looking +faintly out of place. In the morning—morning according to the 24 hour +earth clock, that is—they took the jitney rocket to the resort town of +Augea, in the Hercules Mountains. The town was really a cliff dwelling, +built into the side of a great precipice with quartz windows overlooking +a tremendous, stark valley.</p> + +<div class="figleft"> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<p>It was hard to say just what attraction the moon had as a vacation land, +and it was a matter of unfathomable taste. You either liked it, or you +didn't. If you didn't, you couldn't understand what people who liked it +saw in it. They couldn't quite explain. "It's so quiet. It's so vast. +It's so beautiful," they'd say, but never anything clearer than that.</p> + +<p>Augea itself was like twenty other resorts scattered throughout both the +northern and southern latitudes of the moon. Except for the military +posts and scientific research stations the moon had little value other +than as a vacation land. People came there to rest, to look at the +bizarre landscape through quartz, or occasionally to don spacesuits and +go out on guided exploration trips.</p> + +<p>Immediately after checking into their hotel Pell and Kronski got +directions to the office of the Resident Surgeon and prepared to go +there. Ciel looked on quietly as Pell tightened the straps of his +shoulder holster and checked the setting on his freezer.</p> + +<p>Ciel said, "I knew it."</p> + +<p>"Knew what, honey?" Pell went to the mirror to brush his hair. He wasn't +sure it would materially improve the beauty of his long, knobby, faintly +melancholy face, but he did it any way.</p> + +<p>"The minute we get here you have to go out on business."</p> + +<p>He turned, kissed her, then held and patted her hand. "That's just +because I want to get it over with. Then I'll have time for you. Then +we'll have lots of time together."</p> + +<p>She melted into him suddenly. She put her arms around his neck and held +him tightly. "If I didn't love you, you big lug, it wouldn't be so bad. +But, Dick, I can't go on like this much longer. I just can't."</p> + +<p>"Now, baby," he started to say.</p> + +<p>There was a knock on the door then and he knew Kronski was ready. He +broke away from her, threw a kiss and said, "Later. Later, baby."</p> + +<p>She nodded and held her under lip in with her upper teeth.</p> + +<p>He sighed and left.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Pell and Kronski left the hotel and started walking along the winding +tunnel with the side wall of quartz. On their right the huge valley, +with its stark, unearthly landshapes, stretched away. It was near the +end of the daylight period and the shadows from the distant peaks, +across the valley, were long and deep. Some of them, with little +reflected light, seemed to be patches of nothingness. Pell fancied he +could step through them into another dimension.</p> + +<p>All about them, even here in the side of the mountain, and behind the +thick quartz, there was the odd, utterly dead silence of the moon.</p> + +<p>Their footsteps echoed sparsely in the corridor.</p> + +<p>Pell said to Kronski, "Got the story all straight?"</p> + +<p>"Like as if it was true."</p> + +<p>"Remember the signal?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. Soon as you say we're out of cigarettes. What's the matter, you +think I'm a moron, I can't remember?"</p> + +<p>Pell laughed and clapped him on the shoulder blade.</p> + +<p>Minutes later they turned in from the corridor, went through another, +shorter passageway and then came to a door marked: Resident Surgeon. +They knocked and a deep voice boomed: "Come in!"</p> + +<p>It was a medium-sized room, clearly a dispensary. There was an operating +table, a sterilizer, tall glass-fronted instrument cabinets and a +refrigerator. At the far end of the room a hulking, bear-like man sat +behind a magnalloy desk. The nameplate on the desk said: Hal H. Wilcox, +M.D.</p> + +<p>"Howdy, gents," said Dr. Hal H. Wilcox, shattering the moon-silence with +a vengeance. "What can I do for you?" he was all smiles.</p> + +<p>That smile, decided Pell, didn't quite match the shrewdness of his eyes. +Have to watch this boy, maybe. There was a big quartz window behind the +man so that for the moment Pell saw him almost in silhouette. "We're +from <i>Current</i> magazine," said Pell. "I'm Dick Pell and this is Steve +Kronski. You got our radio, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed." Wilcox creaked way back in his chair. "You're +the fellas want to do a story on us moon surgeons."</p> + +<p>"That's right." Pell fumbled a little self-consciously with the gravity +weights clipped to his trousers. Took a while for moon visitors to get +used to them, everybody said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know exactly as how there's much of a story in what we +do. We're just a bunch of sawbones stationed here, that's all."</p> + +<p>"We're interested in the diseases peculiar to the moon," said Pell. "For +instance, why do the permanent residents up here have to have an +inoculation every year?"</p> + +<p>"That's for the Venusian rash. Thought everybody knew that."</p> + +<p>"Venusian rash?"</p> + +<p>"Nearest thing we ever had to it on Earth was Rocky Mountain Spotted +Fever. It's a rickettsia disease. Makes a fella pretty sick; sometimes +kills him in two, three days. It started when they had those Venusian +construction workers and tunnel men here, oh, long before the war. Under +certain conditions the rickettsia stays dormant and then pops up again."</p> + +<p>"And the inoculation's for that?"</p> + +<p>"Standard. Once a year. You got the inoculation yourself, no doubt, +before you jumped off for the moon."</p> + +<p>"Where does the serum or whatever you call it come from?"</p> + +<p>Pell thought he saw Wilcox's eyes flicker. The doctor said, "It's stored +at the main landings. We draw it as we need it from there."</p> + +<p>"Have any here now?"</p> + +<p>Wilcox's eyes did move this time. He looked at the refrigerator—but +only for the veriest moment. "Don't really reckon so," he said finally. +He was staring blankly at Pell again.</p> + +<p>Pell patted his pockets, turned to Kronski and said, "You know, I think +we're out of cigarettes." Before Kronski could answer he moved to the +big quartz window behind Wilcox's desk. He gazed at the moonscape. "Just +can't get over how big and quiet it is," he said.</p> + +<p>Wilcox turned and gazed with him.</p> + +<p>Kronski drew his freezer. He pointed it, squeezed, and there was a soft, +momentary buzzing and a twinkling of violet sparks at the muzzle of the +weapon.</p> + +<p>Wilcox sat where he was, frozen, knowing nothing.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Pell turned fast. "Come on, Steve. Let's get it." They both stepped to +the refrigerator.</p> + +<p>They had only seconds; Kronski's weapon had been set at a low reading. +The time of paralysis varied with the individual and Doc Wilcox looked +husky enough not to stay frozen very long. If Pell and Kronski returned +to their original positions after he came out of it he would never know +that anything had happened.</p> + +<p>Far back on a lower shelf of the refrigerator were a dozen small bottles +of the same type. Pell grabbed one, glanced at the label, nodded, and +dropped it into his pocket. They took their places again.</p> + +<p>A few moments later Wilcox moved slightly and said, "Yup. Moon's a funny +place all right. You either like it or you don't."</p> + +<p>The rest of the conversation was fairly uninspired. Pell didn't want to +walk out too quickly, and had to keep up the pretense of interviewing +Wilcox for a magazine story. It wasn't easy. They excused themselves +finally, saying they'd be back for more information as soon as they made +up some notes and got the overall picture—whatever that meant. Wilcox +seemed satisfied with it.</p> + +<p>They hurried back along the tunnel, descended to another level and found +the Augea Post Office. They showed the postmaster their C.I.B. shields +and identification cards and arranged for quick and special handling for +the bottle of vaccine. Pell marked it <i>Attention, Lab</i>, and it was +scheduled to take a quick rocket to the Endymion landing and the next +unmanned mail rocket back to World City.</p> + +<p>Pell stayed at the Post Office to make out a quick report on the +incident so he wouldn't have to bore Ciel by doing it in the room, and +Kronski sauntered on back to the hotel.</p> + +<p>There was a fax receiver there and Pell, missing the hourly voice +bulletins of World City Underground, checked it for news. The pages were +coming out in a long tongue. He looked at the first headline:</p> + +<blockquote><p>VENUSIAN OBSERVERS ADMITTED TO WORLD CONGRESS</p></blockquote> + +<p>Well, that was a step in the right direction. Maybe one of these days +they'd get around to a Solar Congress, as they ought to. The recent open +war with Venus had taught both Earthmen and Venusians a lot about space +travel, and it was probably possible to explore the solar system further +right now. No one had yet gone beyond the asteroids. Recent observations +from the telescope stations here on the moon had found what seemed to be +geometrical markings on some of Jupiter's satellites. Life there? Could +be. Candidates for a brotherhood of the zodiac—if both Terrans and +Venusians could get the concept of brotherhood pounded through their +still partially savage skulls.</p> + +<p>Another headline:</p> + +<blockquote><p>'WE CAN LICK UNIVERSE'—WAR SEC</p></blockquote> + +<p>Not so good, that. Loose talk. Actually it was an Undersecretary of War +who had said it. Pell ran over the rest of the article quickly and came +to what seemed to him a significant excerpt. "<i>Certain patriotic groups +in the world today are ready and willing to make the necessary +sacrifices to get it over with. There is a fundamental difference +between Earthmen and other creatures of the system, and this difference +can be resolved only by the dominance of one over the other.</i>"</p> + +<p>Supremist stuff. Strictly. If this Undersecretary were not actually a +member he was at least a supporter of the Supremist line. And that line +had an appeal for the unthinking, Pell had to admit. It was pleasant to +convince yourself that you were a superior specimen, that you were +chosen....</p> + +<blockquote><p>VENUSIAN SPY SUSPECTS HELD ON MARS</p></blockquote> + +<p>Pell frowned deeply at that one and read the story. A couple of Venusian +miners on Mars had wandered too close to one of the Earth military +outposts, and had been nabbed. He doubted that they were spies; he +doubted that the authorities holding them thought so. But it seemed to +make a better story with a slight scare angle. He thought about how Mars +was divided at an arbitrary meridian—half to Venus, half to Earth. The +division solved nothing, pleased nobody. Joe Citizen, the man in the +tunnels could see these things, why couldn't these so-called trained +diplomats?</p> + +<p>Pell finished his report, questioned the Postmaster a little on routine +facts concerning the town, and went back to the hotel.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Ciel was waiting for him. She was in a smart, frontless frock of +silvercloth. Her golden hair shone. Her large, dark eyes looked deep, +moist, alive. She looked at him questioningly? and he read the silent +question: <i>Now can you spare a little time?</i></p> + +<p>"Baby," he said softly, and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Mm," he said when he had finished kissing her.</p> + +<p>The voice-phone rang.</p> + +<p>He said, "Damn it."</p> + +<p>It was Kronski, in his own room next door. "Did Wilcox leave yet?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Wilcox?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. The Doc. Is he still there?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know he was here at all."</p> + +<p>Kronski said, "Huh?"</p> + +<p>Pell said, "Maybe we better back up and start all over again."</p> + +<p>"Wilcox, the Resident Surgeon Doc Wilcox," said Kronski, not too +patiently. "He was in my room a little while ago. Said he'd drop by on +his way out and see if you were in."</p> + +<p>Pell glanced at Ciel. She was busy lighting a cigarette at the other end +of the room. Or pretending to be busy. Pell said, "I just got here. Just +this minute. I didn't see any Wilcox. What'd he want?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know exactly. He was kind of vague about it. Wanted to know if +he could answer any more questions for us, or anything like that."</p> + +<p>"Sounds screwy."</p> + +<p>"Yeah. It sure does, now that I think it over."</p> + +<p>"Let me call you back," said Pell and hung up. He turned to Ciel. "Was +Doc Wilcox here?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. He stopped in." Nothing but blank innocence on her face.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Hm?" She raised her eyebrows. "He just stopped in to see if you were +here, that was all. I told him you weren't and he went out again."</p> + +<p>"But you didn't mention it."</p> + +<p>"Well, why should I?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I'd think you'd say something about it."</p> + +<p>"Now, listen, Dick—I'm not some suspect you're grilling. What's the +matter with you, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"It just strikes me as funny that Wilcox should drop in here and you +shouldn't say one word about it, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Well, I like that." She folded her arms. "You're getting to be so much +of a cop you're starting to be suspicious of your own wife."</p> + +<p>"Now, you know it's not that at all."</p> + +<p>"What else is it? Dick, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of this whole stupid +business you're in. The first time we get a few minutes alone together +you start giving me the third degree. I won't stand for it, that's all!"</p> + +<p>"Now, baby," he said and took a step toward her.</p> + +<p>The deeper tone of the viewer sounded.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Agh, for Pete's sake," he said disgustedly and answered the call. The +image of Chief Larkin's boyishly handsome face came into focus on the +screen. Pell lifted a surprised eyebrow and said, "Oh, hello, Chief."</p> + +<p>Larkin's eye was cold. Especially cold in the setting of that boyish +face. "What in hell," he asked, "are you and Kronski doing on the moon?"</p> + +<p>"Hm?" Now it was Pell's turn to look innocent. "Why, you know what we're +doing, Chief. We're investigating that case. You know the one—I don't +want to mention it over the viewer."</p> + +<p>"Who the devil authorized you to go traipsing to the <i>moon</i> to do it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, nobody authorized us. I thought—I mean, when you're working on a +case and you have a lead, you're supposed to go after it, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but not when it's a crazy wild goose chase." In the viewer Pell +saw the Chief slam his desk with the palm of his hand. "I'd like to know +what in blazes you think you can do on the moon that you can't do in a +good healthy session at the computers?"</p> + +<p>"Well, that's kind of hard to explain over the viewer. We have made some +progress, though. I just sent you a report on it."</p> + +<p>Larkin narrowed one eye. "Pell, who do you think you're fooling?"</p> + +<p>"Fooling?"</p> + +<p>"You heard me. I know damn well you wanted to take a vacation on the +moon. But we have a little job for you that holds you up, and what do +you do? The next best thing, eh? You see to it that the job <i>takes</i> you +to the moon."</p> + +<p>"Now, Chief, it wasn't that at all...."</p> + +<p>"The devil it wasn't. Now, listen to me, Pell. You pack your bags and +get right back to World City. The next rocket you can get. You +understand?"</p> + +<p>Before he answered the question he looked at Ciel. She was staring at +him quietly. Again he could read something of what was in her mind. He +knew well enough that she was trying to say to him: "<i>Make a clean break +now. Tell him No, you won't come back. Quit. Now's the time to do +it—unless you want that stupid job of yours more than you want me....</i>"</p> + +<p>Pell sighed deeply, slowly looked into the viewer again and said, +"Kronski and I'll be back on the next rocket, Chief."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_IV" id="Chapter_IV"></a>Chapter IV</h2> + + +<p>Back again in the underground offices of C.I.B., Agent Richard Pell +plunged into his job. Up to his neck. It was the only way he could keep +from brooding about Ciel. She was somewhere in the city at this very +moment and if he really wanted to take the trouble he'd be able to find +her easily enough—but he didn't want it to happen that way. She'd never +really be his again unless <i>she</i> came to <i>him</i>....</p> + +<p>And so once more he found himself in the office late at night. Alone. +Poring over the lab reports that had come in that afternoon, turning +them over in his mind and hoping, he supposed, for a nice intuitive +flash, free of charge.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact the analysis of the vaccine he'd lifted from +Wilcox's dispensary was not without significance. There was definitely +an extraneous substance. The only question was just what this substance +might be. Take a little longer to find that out, the report said.</p> + +<p>It made Pell think of the corny sign World Government officials always +had on their desks, the one about doing the difficult right away and +taking a little longer for the impossible. Some day, when he was a +big-shot, he would have a sign on his desk saying: <i>Why make things +difficult when with even less effort you can make them impossible?</i> Of +course, ideas like that were probably the very reason he'd never be a +big-shot....</p> + +<p>The Identifier humming. Someone coming again.</p> + +<p>He looked up, and then had the curious feeling of being jerked back in +time to several nights ago. Chief Larkin and Theodor Rysland entered.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Dick," said Larkin, with a touch of studied democracy. He +glanced at the government adviser as if to say: <i>See? Knew we'd find him +here.</i></p> + +<p>Pell made a sour face. "Some day I'm going to stop giving all this free +overtime. Some day I'm not going to show up at all."</p> + +<p>Rysland smiled, dislodging some of the rock strata of his curiously pale +face. He seemed a little weary this evening. He moved slowly and with +even more than his usual dignity. He said, "I hope, Mr. Pell, that +you'll wait at least until you finish this job for us. I understand +you've made some progress."</p> + +<p>Pell shrugged and gestured at the lab report. "Progress, maybe—but I +don't know how far. Just a bunch of new puzzles to be perfectly frank."</p> + +<p>Rysland sat down at the other desk and drummed on it with his +fingertips. He looked at Pell gravely. "As a matter of fact, since we +last talked to you the situation has become even more urgent. A +Supremist congressman introduced a bill today before the world delegates +which may prove very dangerous. Perhaps you know the one I refer to."</p> + +<p>"I was too busy to follow the news today," said Pell, looking +meaningfully at Larkin.</p> + +<p>Larkin didn't seem to notice.</p> + +<p>Rysland said, "I'll brief you then. The bill purports to prohibit +material aid of any kind to a non-Terran government. That means both +credit and goods. And since the only real non-Terran government we know +is Venus, it's obviously directed specifically at the Venusians."</p> + +<p>Pell thought it over. High level stuff again. He nodded to show he +followed.</p> + +<p>"On the surface," continued Rysland, "this would seem to be a sort of +anti-espionage bill. Actually, it's a deliberately provocative act. I +know the Venusians will take it that way. But right now certain quarters +are secretly trying to negotiate a trade treaty with Venus which would +be a major step toward peaceful relations. If this bill became law, such +a treaty would be impossible."</p> + +<p>"But World Congress isn't likely to pass such a bill, is it? Won't they +see through it?"</p> + +<p>Rysland frowned. "That's what we're not sure of. Messages are pouring in +urging passage—all of them from Supremists, of course. The Supremists +are relatively few, but they make a lot of noise. Sometimes noise like +that is effective. It could swing a lot of delegates who don't see the +real danger of this bill and are at the moment undecided. The Defender +side, with its desire to isolate and fortify, is especially +susceptible."</p> + +<p>"That <i>is</i> bad," said Pell thoughtfully.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Rysland put his palm on the desk. "Now then, if we can somehow discredit +the Supremists—get to the bottom of this thing quickly enough—I'm sure +that bill will be killed. I came here tonight, I suppose, out of pure +anxiety. In other words, Mr. Pell, just how far are you?"</p> + +<p>Pell smiled and shook his head. "Not very, I'm afraid. This Supremist +thing is the damndest I ever came across. No central headquarters, no +officers, no propaganda mill—entirely word of mouth as far as I can +see. No way of finding out how it started, or even how the new members +are proselyted. Ask any member how he became a Supremist. He just looks +kind of dreamy and mutters something about the truth suddenly dawning +upon him one day."</p> + +<p>"But don't you have any theories?"</p> + +<p>"I've got a hunch," Pell said, picking up the lab report.</p> + +<p>Chief Larkin snorted softly. The snort said clearly enough that an +efficient investigator didn't depend on hunches these days: he went +after something doggedly on the computer, or by other approved +techniques.</p> + +<p>Pell pretended not to hear the snort. "First of all we discovered that +nearly all Supremists received some kind of an inoculation before they +became Supremists. Then we found a whole village, one of those moon +resort towns, that had gone over. There was the record of inoculation +there, too. I got hold of some of the vaccine and had the lab analyze +it. It's mostly vaccine all right, but there <i>is</i> a foreign substance in +it. Listen." He read from the report: "<i>Isolated point oh six four seven +grams unclassified crystal compound, apparently form of nucleotide +enzyme. Further analysis necessary.</i>"</p> + +<p>"You think this enzyme, or whatever it is, has something to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. All I have is a pretty wild theory. To begin, when our +lab can't analyze something right away, it's pretty rare—possibly even +unknown to chemistry in general. Now it's just possible that this +substance does something to the brain that makes a man into a Supremist, +and that somebody's behind the whole thing, deliberately planting the +stuff so that people here and there become injected with it."</p> + +<p>"Pell." Larkin made a pained face. "Really."</p> + +<p>Pell shrugged. "Well, as I say, it's a hunch, that's all."</p> + +<p>"It's a pipe dream," said Larkin. "I never heard of anything so +fantastic."</p> + +<p>"That's what folks said a couple of centuries ago when the Venusians +were first trying to make contact and their ships were sighted all over +the place. 'I never heard of anything so fantastic,' they all said."</p> + +<p>Theodor Rysland still looked interested. "Granted there is some +connection between the Supremist mental state and this, er, enzyme. What +then, Mr. Pell?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Pell, stretching his legs out, "I had an idea maybe your +friend Dr. Nebel could give us some help on that."</p> + +<p>"Nebel?"</p> + +<p>"He's interested in this thing, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Definitely. Nebel's a very public spirited man."</p> + +<p>"Well, I understand he's one of the top psychobiologists in the country +today. Seems to me this new enzyme, whatever it is, would be right up +his alley. Of course the lab should get to it eventually, but he might +do it a lot quicker."</p> + +<p>Larkin had been examining some statistical crime charts on the wall. He +turned from them. "Pell, does Kronski know about all these wild hunches +of yours?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't talked with him about them yet. He left today before the lab +report came in. Why?"</p> + +<p>"I was just wondering," said Larkin evenly, "whether I had two maniacs +in my organization or only one."</p> + +<p>Rysland, frowning, turned to the chief. "I wouldn't be hasty, Larkin," +he said. "Crazy as it sounds Pell may have something here."</p> + +<p>Larkin snorted again, and this time along with it he shook his head +sadly.</p> + +<p>"What's your next move then?" Rysland asked Pell.</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow morning, first thing," Pell said, "I'll take a sample of this +stuff to Dr. Nebel and see what he can do with it. Of course the lab can +keep on working on it in the meantime."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you might do better to get busy on those computers?" +Larkin asked.</p> + +<p>Pell shook his head. "This hunch is too strong, Chief."</p> + +<p>Rysland smiled, and got up. "I'm inclined to put a little stock into +this man's hunches. He's done pretty well with them so far. I'd even say +he's pretty close to a solution of this thing—possibly."</p> + +<p>Larkin shrugged and started to look at the crime charts again.</p> + +<p>Rysland held out his hand. "Good night, Mr. Pell. You've encouraged me. +Larkin and I are going topside for a little night cap before we turn in. +Like to join us?"</p> + +<p>"No, thanks," said Pell. "I'm sleepy. I want to get home and hit that +sack."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Good night again." The two men went toward the door.</p> + +<p>Pell watched them quietly. He had lied. He wasn't sleepy at all. He just +wanted to get home and sit by that viewer and hope, hope against hope, +that it would ring and that Ciel's lovely image would swirl into +view....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>On the way home he was just the least bit tempted to go topside, +however. He thought he might like to walk the broad, quiet boulevards +under the stars. His brain functioned better there. The tunnels were so +clean and bright and sterile, so wonderfully functional and sensible, +that they oppressed him somehow. Maybe, he sometimes thought, he wasn't +fit for this age. Maybe he should have been born a couple of hundred +years ago. But common sense told him that people in <i>that</i> age must have +often thought exactly the same thing to themselves.</p> + +<p>He looked at his chrono and decided he had better go home.</p> + +<p>The apartment, when he came to it, was cold and empty without Ciel. He +bathed and tried to keep up his spirits by singing in his tuneless way, +but it didn't help.</p> + +<p>He went back into the living room, selected a film from the library and +slipped it into a lap projector. He sat down and tried to concentrate on +the film, a historical adventure about the days of the first moon +rockets. He couldn't follow it.</p> + +<p>The viewer rang.</p> + +<p>He bounded from the chair as though he had triggered a high speed +ejection seat in a burning jet. He went to the viewer and flicked it on. +The plate shimmered, and then Ciel's image came into focus.</p> + +<p>"<i>Baby!</i>" He was certain his shout overmodulated every amp tube in the +entire World City viewer system. But he felt better, wonderfully better, +already.</p> + +<p>She was smiling. "Hello, Dick."</p> + +<p>"Hello."</p> + +<p>And then they looked at each other in affectionate embarrassment for a +moment.</p> + +<p>"One of us," said Pell, "ought to have his script writer along."</p> + +<p>"Dick, I don't know exactly how to say what I want to say...."</p> + +<p>"Don't. Don't say anything. Just pretend nothing ever happened. Just +come on home fast as you can."</p> + +<p>"No, Dick. Not yet. I still want to talk about—well, everything. Dick, +we've got to reach some sort of compromise. There <i>must</i> be a way."</p> + +<p>"Come on home. We'll find a way."</p> + +<p>"Not home. Too many memories there. Besides," she smiled a little, "I +don't trust us alone together. You know what would happen. We wouldn't +get <i>any</i> talking done. Not any sensible talking anyway. You'd better +meet me someplace."</p> + +<p>He sighed. "Okay. Where can I meet you?"</p> + +<p>"How about the Stardust Cafe?"</p> + +<p>"Again? That place didn't help us much the last time."</p> + +<p>"I know, but it's the handiest. I'm sure we can find a quiet place. Out +on the terrace or something."</p> + +<p>"Is there a terrace?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so. I'm sure there must be."</p> + +<p>He looked at his chrono. "All right, baby. Half an hour?"</p> + +<p>"Half an hour."</p> + +<p>When she clicked off he felt his heart pounding. He felt dizzy. He felt +as though he had just taken a quart of meth at one jolt—intravenously. +He sang, more loudly and more off-key than ever. He went into the +bedroom and started to get dressed again.</p> + +<p>It wasn't until he was finishing the knot in his tie that the hunch hit +him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was funny about that hunch. He would have said it came out of +nowhere, and yet it must have broken from the bottom of his mind through +some kind of restraining layer into the conscious levels. He didn't +remember thinking anything that might have brought it on—his mind was +strictly on Ciel. Maybe that was how it came through, with the attention +of his conscious mind directed elsewhere.</p> + +<p>With the hunch he heard Ciel's voice again, heard it very clearly, +saying: "<i>I'm sure we can find a quiet place. Out on the terrace or +something.</i>" And with that other things started to fall into place.</p> + +<p>As he thought, and as the possibilities of his hunch fanned out to +embrace other possibilities he became suddenly cold and sick inside. He +fought the feeling. "Got to go through with it," he muttered to himself. +"Got to."</p> + +<p>As soon as he was dressed he took the tunnel cars to Station D-90, +changing twice. People were aboard at this hour, returning from the +evening. Lots of men and women in uniform: the green of the +landfighters, the white of the seamen, the blue of the flyers, the +silver and black of the space force. Young people. Kids mostly: kids who +had never seen war, smelled death, heard the wounded scream. He hoped +they never would. But if his hunch was correct they might be dangerously +near to it right now.</p> + +<p>If only he had time to call Kronski. He'd feel a lot safer....</p> + +<p>He shook himself. Have to stop thinking about it. Proceed cautiously +now, and take each thing as it came. That was the only thing to do.</p> + +<p>He went topside and stepped from the elevator kiosk into the night air. +Ahead he saw the bright globular sign of the Stardust Cafe. But he +didn't go toward it right away. He turned in the other direction, walked +swiftly, and kept a sharp eye on the shadows. He turned off on a side +street, circled a small park, and then crossed a sloping lawn toward the +back of the night club. He headed for the light of the service entrance.</p> + +<p>A half-credit bill got him inside through the back entrance. He found +the door with the temporary sign saying: Marco the Mentalist. He +knocked.</p> + +<p>Marco the Mentalist opened the door. He didn't look quite as tall +face-to-face as he did out on the floor, nor quite as impressive. His +face was still dark and faintly saturnine, but the jowls seemed a little +puffier now, there was a faint network of capillaries around his +nostrils and his eyes looked just the least bit weary and tired. In a +pleasant enough voice he said, "Yes?"</p> + +<p>Pell showed his C.I.B. identification.</p> + +<p>Marco raised his eyebrows a little and said, "Come inside, please." +Inside he found a chair for Pell. He sat across from him at his dressing +table, half-turned toward the room. "I must get ready for my show in a +little while. You understand that, of course."</p> + +<p>Pell nodded. "What's on my mind won't take long. First of all, I want to +ask a few questions about hypnotism. They may seem silly to you, or +maybe a little elementary, but I'd like you to answer 'em just the +same."</p> + +<p>Marco's eyebrows went a little bit higher and he said, "Proceed."</p> + +<p>"Okay. Question number one: can anybody be hypnotized against his will?"</p> + +<p>"Some can, some can't." Marco smiled. "The average person, under average +circumstances—no. I appear in my act to hypnotize people against their +wills. Actually, subconsciously, they <i>wish</i> to be hypnotized, which is +why they volunteer to let me try in the first place."</p> + +<p>"Okay, number two. Is there any drug that can hypnotize a person?"</p> + +<p>Marco frowned. "Pentothal and several things <i>appear</i> to do that. You +could argue it either way, whether the subject is actually hypnotized or +not. I believe post-hypnotic commands have been given to subjects under +sodium pentothol and carried out, even back in the dark ages of +psychiatry several hundred years ago."</p> + +<p>"I've got one more really important question," Pell said then. "I'd +understood that somebody under hypnosis won't do anything against his +moral or ethical sense. An honest man, for instance, can't be forced to +steal. Is that true?"</p> + +<p>Marco laughed and gestured with his graceful fingers. "I don't think it +is true. It was once believed to be, because hypnotic technique was not +strong enough. That is, the subject's hypnosis was not strong enough to +overcome a strong moral sense, which is actually a surface veneer on a +deeper, more brutal nature. But I think with deep enough hypnosis, and +the right kind of command, you can get a person to do most anything in +post-hypnotic behavior—and of course not know why he <i>must</i> do it, even +knowing it's wrong. Do you follow me?"</p> + +<p>"I hope I do." Then Pell leaned forward. "And now I have a very great +favor to ask of you."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to put on a little special private performance for me, right +here and now."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"You will, in about sixty seconds. Just listen carefully...."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_V" id="Chapter_V"></a>Chapter V</h2> + + +<p>He was late for his date with Ciel, of course. He glanced at his chrono +as he entered the Stardust Cafe by the front door and saw that he was +twenty minutes late. However, this time he was certain Ciel wouldn't +complain too vigorously.</p> + +<p>Again the askarins were playing, and once more the green-skinned +Venusian girls were doing their writhing, spasmodic, aphrodisiacal +dance. It was remarkable how they could achieve such an effect of utter +abandon and yet keep their faces blank and frozen. He looked around the +rest of the room swiftly. Not so crowded tonight, and people were +generally quieter. There were no oversexed spacemen clawing after the +dancers on the floor.</p> + +<p>Ciel was again in a rear booth, in the same corner of the room she had +chosen before. She had spotted him now; she was looking his way. She +lifted a white-gloved hand and waved.</p> + +<p>He smiled and headed for her. He forced his smile, and made himself +forget the prickling of his wrists and the feeling of bristling fur +along his spine. And he held his smile all the way across the room. +<i>Why, hello, darling, fancy seeing you here; no, nothing's wrong, +nothing at all, why on earth would you think anything was wrong?</i></p> + +<p>"Hi, baby," was all he actually said.</p> + +<p>"I'm—I'm glad you're here, Dick." Her eyes didn't show much. They roved +over his face a little too much perhaps, but otherwise they seemed +simply as large and dark as ever. He noticed that the meth glass in +front of her was empty.</p> + +<p>Grinning, he sat down. "This is a big moment. This is almost too much +for me to handle. Maybe that's what I need—a good slug of meth."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"Let's not waste time. Let's go out on the terrace. I want you to kiss +me."</p> + +<p>"Best offer I've had all evening." He rose again. "Where's the terrace?"</p> + +<p>"Through that door. There's a dining room there that's closed at night. +You go through the dining room and out to the terrace."</p> + +<p>"Okay."</p> + +<p>He took her arm and led her in and out of tables, across the room. They +moved swiftly through the quiet, nearly dark dining room, and after that +through a pair of window-doors. They were on the terrace then, a +flagstoned space with a low wall. It overlooked the scattered lights of +World City's topside area and some distance beyond they could see the +river, a blue-silver ribbon in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>They stopped at the wall. She turned toward him. He looked down at her, +at her pale face and deep, dark eyes. He smelled her perfume and he felt +her live warmth near him and coming nearer. He saw her eyes close, her +lips part just slightly, and each lip glistening, faintly moist....</p> + +<p>He was wondering when it would happen. He was wondering when he would be +struck.</p> + +<p>As he wondered that he suddenly discovered he wasn't on the terrace any +more.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He looked about him in some surprise. It was nearly dark. He was in a +room; he could sense the walls about him. He heard a curious, +high-pitched metallic voice—and recognized it.</p> + +<p>"<i>Pell? Are you awake now?</i>"</p> + +<p>It had happened then, just as he had expected. Someone had thrown a +freezer on him there in the patio, and during his complete +unconsciousness he'd been taken here, wherever this was. He sighed. The +least they could have done would have been to let him finish kissing +Ciel.</p> + +<p>As calmly as he could he said to the four blank walls, "I'm awake."</p> + +<p>Soft glowlights came on gradually and he saw that the room about him was +fairly small—twenty by fifteen, roughly—and very plain. It contained a +bed and a few odd pieces of furniture, all apparently of good quality. +There was a door in one wall. He tried the door. Locked. He went back to +the middle of the room.</p> + +<p>"Chief," he said to the blank walls, "what's this all about? Is it some +kind of a joke?"</p> + +<p>The metallic voice chuckled. It belonged to Eustace J. Larkin, Chief, +Central Investigation Bureau, and even filtered like this it was +somewhat prim and precise. "No, Dick, it's not a joke, I'm afraid. I'm +surprised you haven't guessed what it's all about. Or at least had one +of your brilliant hunches." There was sarcasm in this last.</p> + +<p>"Where's Ciel?" Pell asked.</p> + +<p>"Right here with me. In the next room. Here—listen."</p> + +<p>Ciel's voice said, "Don't worry, darling, we'll explain everything. And +when it's all over it will be for the best. You'll see that it will."</p> + +<p>"All right, everybody," said Pell, half-belligerently, "what's the big +idea?"</p> + +<p>"Big idea is right," Larkin's voice came back. "The biggest that ever +hit the human race. And as Ciel says we'll explain it all in a moment. +But first I'd like your word that you won't be foolish and make any kind +of a struggle. If you'll promise that you can come in the other room +here and we can all talk face to face."</p> + +<p>Pell frowned. "I don't know—I'm not so sure I can honestly promise +that."</p> + +<p>"Suit yourself, then. A few minutes from now it won't make any +difference anyway."</p> + +<p>"Will you stop being so damned mysterious and tell me what it's all +about?"</p> + +<p>Larkin's voice laughed. "Very well. I haven't had much chance to tell +about it, frankly. And I think you'll agree we've rather neatly kept our +parts under cover—until you got dangerously close to the answer, +anyway."</p> + +<p>"Until I got close?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Doc Wilcox's office on the moon was perhaps our one weakness +in the whole set-up. How you managed to stumble on to that, I'll never +know—your luck must have been with you."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't luck, Larkin, it was a hunch."</p> + +<p>"Still believe in hunches, eh? Well, we won't argue the point. At any +rate you wouldn't have found the enzyme any place else but there."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so the enzyme does have something to do with it."</p> + +<p>"Everything. Here—suppose I let Doctor Nebel explain it to you. He +developed it, after all."</p> + +<p>Pell lifted his eyebrows in surprise and Dr. Walter Nebel's sibilant +voice came through the hidden speakers. "I think you should know how it +works, Mr. Pell. You may know that a certain part of the brain called +Rossi's area is, to put it figuratively, the hypnotic center. The +cut-off of the adrenal cortex, so to speak. In ordinary hypnosis the +function of that area is dulled by overexercising the motor senses. By +that method the intensity of hypnosis is widely variable and never +really one hundred per cent effective. My compound, however, brings +about complete and absolute cut-off. Any post-hypnotic suggestion given +under those circumstances takes permanently and deeply. It can only be +removed by further post-hypnosis under the same treatment, negating the +original command."</p> + +<p>Pell stared at the blank walls. "Go on," he said in a soft, tense voice. +"What's the rest?"</p> + +<p>Larkin spoke again. "Suppose we briefly examine a little history as a +kind of introduction to this matter. The human race, since the beginning +of recorded time, has failed to achieve real peace and stability, right? +Every time there has been a chance for cooperative effort—for total +agreement—certain selfish interests have spoiled it. There have been +times, however, when certain groups—states or combinations of +states—came close to permanent peace and prosperity. The Napoleonic era +was one. Hitler two hundred years ago almost brought it about. The only +reason they failed was that they didn't achieve their goal—<i>complete</i> +conquest."</p> + +<p><i>Did Pell hear correctly? Was there a faint simmering of madness in that +metallic voice now?</i> In the words there was madness, surely....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It went on: "The fact is, Pell, people simply don't know what's good for +them. Look at the blunderers and even downright crooks who are elected +to World Government. Never the best brains, never the best talents. When +a really able man gets into a position of leadership it's an accident—a +fluke."</p> + +<p>"I still don't see what all this has got to do with it," said Pell.</p> + +<p>There was a shrug in the metallic voice. "For once the ablest men are +going to take over. There are a number of us. You know already about +myself and Doctor Nebel. Rysland will be with us, too, as soon as we can +get him conditioned."</p> + +<p>"By conditioned, you mean this enzyme of yours?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. We started out in a small way, using force or trickery where +necessary, and managed to condition a number of doctors and nurses. +Conditioning simply means injecting Nebel's compound and then giving the +post-hypnotic command to be unquestioningly loyal to the Supremists. We +created the Supremists, of course. In order for us to take over it will +be necessary to have another war, and to conquer Venus. That can be done +if Earth strikes quickly. Within the next few days I think there'll be +enough Supremist influence to get this war started."</p> + +<p>Pell stared back, open-mouthed. To hear it coldly and calmly like this +was shock, cold-water shock. "Let me get this straight now. Your group +made Supremists of doctors and nurses and they in turn made new members +by installing this hypnosis stuff whenever anybody came for a hypodermic +injection of any kind, is that it?"</p> + +<p>"That's it."</p> + +<p>"But how does this stuff work? Does it knock you out, or what?"</p> + +<p>"You'll be finding that out at first hand very shortly."</p> + +<p>Pell stiffened, made fists and unconsciously lifted them and looked +around him, warily.</p> + +<p>Larkin laughed. "It won't do you much good to put up a fight. I'm +sending a couple of my assistants in there. They specialize in people +who want to make a struggle. And there's no reason to feel unhappy about +it, Pell: once you're conditioned you'll simply be unable to do anything +against the Supremist cause. You'll be happier, in fact, having such a +cause. Ask your wife if that isn't so."</p> + +<p>Pell trembled with anger. "How did you get to her? How did you make her +do what she did?"</p> + +<p>"You mean luring you into our little trap on the terrace, so to speak? +You mustn't blame Ciel for that. She couldn't help herself; she had to +obey, after all. You see she was conditioned in Augea on the moon by Dr. +Wilcox, one of our very loyal men. He simply dropped in when you were at +the Post Office, pretended that Ciel needed a routine injection and she, +not at all suspicious, allowed him to do it. He gave her the command of +loyalty, and also cautioned her not to say anything about it. So you +see, Ciel's been one of us for several days. It was just a little +precaution of mine, in case you should become troublesome. I had to +assign somebody to the investigation, of course, because Rysland and his +crowd would have been too suspicious if I hadn't complied with their +request."</p> + +<p>"You're stark crazy, Larkin! You ought to be in a mental hospital!"</p> + +<p>"You'll be over that idea in a minute or so. Meanwhile, we're wasting +time. I'm sending the boys in now. You'll make it easier for yourself if +you submit without giving them any trouble."</p> + +<p>The door opened, then. Pell caught a quick glimpse of the other room and +saw that it was a tastefully furnished living room. He recognized it, +and knew where he was. This was a country house of Larkin's, topside, +not far from the outskirts of World City. Whoever turned the freezer on +him must have set the control at high intensity because it would take at +least an hour to get to this place from the Stardust Cafe and he had +been unconscious at least that long.</p> + +<p>He had the momentary impulse to rush that partly opened door—and then +the boys, as Larkin had called them, appeared.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>They were specialists, little doubt of that. They regarded Pell with +flat, almost disinterested looks as the door closed behind them. One +held a hypodermic needle. He was the shorter of the two, but he had +shoulders like ox-yokes. His face had been kneaded in the prize ring, +and his bare arms were muscular and hairy but the top of his head was +bald. The other had red hair, close-cropped. He was big and +well-proportioned; Pell might have taken him for a professional football +player.</p> + +<p>Red did the talking. He spoke quietly, almost pleasantly. "Gonna +cooperate?" he asked Pell.</p> + +<p>Pell said, "You touch me, brother, and I'll make your face look like +Baldy's."</p> + +<p>Red glanced at Baldy and seemed to sigh. Abruptly he whirled, jumped at +Pell and brought a sizzling right hand punch through the air. Pell +ducked it. He saw Baldy move in as he did so, and a painful blow struck +the back of his neck. His teeth rattled when it struck. Something caught +him under the chin, straightened him. When he was straight a pile driver +struck him in the midsection.</p> + +<p>It was all over within a matter of seconds. Under different +circumstances Pell might have found time to admire their technique.</p> + +<p>As it was, he was now face down on the floor and Red was straddling him, +holding him there. The pain in his stomach made him gasp. His face and +the back of his neck ached terribly.</p> + +<p>Red had his arm in the small of his back. Pell tried to struggle.</p> + +<p>"I can break the arm if you move," said Red cheerfully.</p> + +<p>And then Pell felt the bite of the needle just below his shoulder.</p> + +<p>A misty feeling came. He felt as though he were in a red whirlpool, +spinning, going down—down.... He fought to rise. He could still hear. +He could hear footsteps and the slam of the door when somebody else came +into the room. And then he seemed abruptly to be detached from his own +body and floating in a huge gray void....</p> + +<p>Words hammered at his brain. Larkin's voice, at his ear now and no +longer metallic. "<i>You will be loyal to the Supremist cause. You will do +nothing against the Supremist doctrine. You will believe that Earthmen +are meant to rule the Universe—</i>"</p> + +<p>He felt an overpowering impulse to nod, to agree, to believe that it was +right to do this. He fought this impulse, straining his mind and his +very being until it seemed that something might burst with the effort.</p> + +<p>"<i>You will work for the cause; you will give your life for it if +necessary.</i>"</p> + +<p>Yes, perhaps it was better to succumb. The words were too strong. He +couldn't fight them. Larkin was right, Earthmen were supreme, and they +were destined to rule....</p> + +<p>Somewhere in the depths a tiny spot of resistance still glowed. He tried +desperately to evoke it. It seemed then that it became brighter. He +<i>could</i> resist—he <i>would</i>.... He kept thinking over and over again: +"<i>No, no, no!</i>"</p> + +<p>Larkin's voice said, "Carry him in the other room. He'll come to in a +moment."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He came to slowly, and he saw that he was lying on a couch and that +several people were gathered around him smiling down at him. Something +detached itself from the group, knelt by his side. He blinked. It was +Ciel. Her golden hair shone and her dark eyes searched his face and she +was smiling. "Hello, darling," she said.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Ciel." He kissed her, and then sat up on the couch and looked +around.</p> + +<p>Larkin and Dr. Nebel were standing together, and Red and Baldy were a +few steps behind them, still looking indifferent.</p> + +<p>"Now you're one of us, Dick," said Larkin, flashing his professional +smile, dimples and everything. Pell rose. Nebel held his hands behind +his back and beamed, blinking his heavy reptilian eyelids and Larkin +stepped forward and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Pell, shaking the hand, "I guess we're all working for the +same thing now. What do you want me to do?"</p> + +<p>Larkin laughed. "Nothing right away. We'll give you instructions when +the time comes. I think you might as well go home with Ciel now; I have +a copter and a chauffeur outside that'll take you to the station near +your apartment."</p> + +<p>"Okay, Chief, whatever you say." He smiled and took Ciel's arm. He +started toward the door. Then he stopped, patted his chest and said, +"Oh—my freezer. I guess the boys took it away...."</p> + +<p>Larkin turned to Baldy. "Give him his weapon."</p> + +<p>Baldy took the freezer from his pocket and casually tossed it to Pell.</p> + +<p>A sudden change came over Pell, then. His smile disappeared. He stepped +quickly away from Ciel, whirled and faced all of them. He pointed the +freezer. "All right, everybody stay perfectly still—you, too, Ciel. +This is where we break up your little Supremist nightmare."</p> + +<p>Larkin stared in utter amazement. Nebel's turtle lids opened wide. Ciel +brought her hand to her throat.</p> + +<p>Red's hand blurred suddenly, going for his own weapon. Pell squeezed the +trigger, the violet sparks danced for an instant, and then Red stood +frozen with his hand almost to his chest.</p> + +<p>"I'd advise nobody else to try that," said Pell, and then in an ironical +tone to Larkin: "C.I.B. agents are trained to be pretty quick with a +freezer, right, Chief?"</p> + +<p>Larkin seemed to find his voice now. "But—how—what happened? You were +injected. How can you...."</p> + +<p>"I just took a little precaution, that's all," said Pell. "There'll be +plenty of time to explain it all later. You'll probably hear the whole +thing in court, Larkin, when I testify at your trial for treason. +Meanwhile, all of you just stay nice and calm while I use the viewer."</p> + +<p>He stepped to the viewer and dialed with his free hand. The plate +glowed, shimmered and a moment later the pale, grave face of Theodor +Rysland came into view. His eyebrows rose as he saw the weapon in Pell's +hand and glimpsed the people beyond Pell. "Hello—what's this all +about?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't time to explain fully now," said Pell, "but I want you to get +to Larkin's country house as soon as you can. I'll call agent Kronski in +a moment and have him bring some others, and together we'll take Larkin +and Nebel into custody. They're behind the Supremist movement—a +deliberate attempt to take over the government. They did it with a drug; +that's how Supremist's are made."</p> + +<p>"What's this? A drug?"</p> + +<p>"Think about it later," said Pell. "Just grab the facts right now. The +drug makes a person subject to post-hypnotic commands—that's why your +Supremists are blindly, unthinkingly loyal. However, the command can be +erased by a second treatment. That'll be tough and take a lot of +ferreting out, but it won't be impossible." He glanced at Ciel, and saw +that she was staring at him with horror—with enmity. It sickened him, +but he steadied himself with the realization that Ciel would be one of +the first to be re-treated.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Several minutes later he had completed his calls. Rysland, Kronski and +the others were on the way. He kept the freezer pointed, and watched his +captives carefully. Ciel had gone over to the couch and was sitting +there, her face in her hands, weeping softly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how you did it," said Larkin. "I don't understand it. The +injection should have worked. It always did before."</p> + +<p>"Well, it almost worked," said Pell. "I must admit I had quite a time +fighting off your commands. But, you see, I knew you'd gotten to Ciel +somehow when she called me up to make the date this evening. She spoke +of going out to the terrace at the Stardust Cafe. It was a little odd +that she should speak of the terrace like that, out of a clear sky—and +I wondered why it should be on her mind. Then it struck me that neither +of us had ever noticed a terrace there, and Ciel must have some special +reason for knowing about it.</p> + +<p>"She did, of course—she'd been instructed to get me out there where +your boys could slap a freezer on me. So I started guessing with that +hunch to work on. Everything more or less fell into place after that. It +was pretty certain that they'd try to make a loyal Supremist out of me, +too, and that's when I took that little precaution I mentioned to you."</p> + +<p>"What precaution?"</p> + +<p>Pell smiled. "I had Marco the mentalist hypnotize me and give me a +rather special post-hypnotic command. He ordered me not to believe any +<i>subsequent</i> post-hypnotic commands. That's why your conditioning didn't +work on me."</p> + +<p>Larkin could find no words; he just stared.</p> + +<p>"Think about it, Larkin," said Pell. "Think hard. Maybe you'd convinced +yourself you were doing good, but your purpose was still tyranny. And +like any tyranny it contained the means of its own destruction. It +always works out that way, Larkin—maybe it's a law, or something."</p> + +<p>It had been a long speech for Pell, practically an oration. He was, +after all, a cop, not a philosopher. Just a guy trying to get along. +Just an ordinary citizen whose name was legion, looking at his wife now +and waiting with what patience he could find for the time when she would +be cleared of the poisonous doctrine that any one race or group or even +species was supreme.</p> + +<p>He was thinking, too, that the trial would keep him busy as the very +devil and that they <i>still</i> wouldn't get to that vacation and second +honeymoon for a long time....</p> + +<p>That, considering everything, was not too much to put up with.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Brink of Madness, by Walter J. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/32339-h/images/cover.jpg b/32339-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e875a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/32339-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/32339-h/images/illus1.jpg b/32339-h/images/illus1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3fcc633 --- /dev/null +++ b/32339-h/images/illus1.jpg diff --git a/32339.txt b/32339.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac66d51 --- /dev/null +++ b/32339.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2308 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Brink of Madness, by Walter J. Sheldon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Brink of Madness + +Author: Walter J. Sheldon + +Illustrator: Kelly Freas + +Release Date: May 12, 2010 [EBook #32339] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRINK OF MADNESS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + BRINK OF MADNESS + + By Walt Sheldon + + Illustrated by KELLY FREAS + +[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from If Worlds of Science +Fiction July 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + +[Sidenote: _C.I.B. Agent Pell used his head, even if he did rely on +hunches more than on the computer. In fact, when the game got rough, he +found that to use his head, he first had to keep it...._] + + + + +Chapter I + + +The night the visitors came Richard Pell worked late among the great +banks of criminological computers. He whistled to himself, knowing that +he was way off key but not caring. Ciel, his wife, was still in his +mind's eye; he'd seen her on the viewer and talked with her not ten +minutes ago. + +"Be home shortly, baby," he'd said, "soon as I fill in a form or two." + +"All right, dear. I'll wait," she'd answered, with just the slightest +tone of doubt. + +It was an important night. It was at once their second anniversary and +the beginning of their second honeymoon. Just how Pell--knobby, more or +less homely, and easygoing--had won himself a lovely, long-limbed blonde +like Ciel was something of a mystery to many of their friends. She could +hardly have married him for his money. Central Investigation Bureau +agents were lucky if all their extras and bonuses brought them up to a +thousand credits a year. + +Pell had unquestionably caught her in a romantic moment. Maybe that was +part of the trouble--part of the reason they needed this second +honeymoon, this period of re-acquaintance so badly. Being the wife of a +C.I.B. agent meant sitting at home nine-tenths of the time while he was +working on a case, and then not hearing about the case for security +reasons during the one-tenth of the time he was with her. + +Four times now Pell had been ready to take his vacation; four times last +minute business had come up. No more, though, by golly. Tonight he'd get +out of here just as quickly as.... + +The Identifier, beyond the door, began to hum. That meant somebody was +putting his hand to the opaque screen, and if the scanner recognized the +fingerprints the door would open. Pell scowled at the bulky shadows +outside. + +"Go away, whoever you are," he muttered to himself. + +Some of the other agents were out there, no doubt; they were always +getting sudden inspirations late at night and returning to use the +computers again. In fact, it had been tactfully suggested to Agent +Richard Pell that he might use the computers a little more himself +instead of relying on hunches as he so often did. "Investigation's a +cold science, not a fancy art," Chief Larkin was fond of saying to the +group--with his eyes on Pell. + +Well, whoever it was, Pell was definitely through. No time-wasting +conversation for him! He was ready for six glorious weeks of saved-up +vacation time. He and Ciel, early tomorrow, would grab a rocket for one +of the Moon resorts, and there they'd just loaf and relax and pay +attention to each other. Try to regain whatever it was they'd had.... + + * * * * * + +The door opened and Chief Larkin walked in. + +Chief Eustace J. Larkin was tall, in his forties, but still boyishly +handsome. He dressed expensively and well. He was dynamic and confident +and he always had about him just the faintest aroma of very expensive +shaving cologne. He had a Master's degree in criminology and his rise to +the post of Director, C.I.B., had been sudden, dramatic and impressive. +Not the least of his talents was a keen sense of public relations. + +"I--uh--was on my way out," said Pell. He reached for his hat. Funny +about hats: few people traveled topside anymore, and in the +climate-conditioned tunnels you didn't need a hat. But C.I.B. agents had +to be neat and dignified; regulations required hats and ties and cuffs +and lapels. Thus, you could always spot a C.I.B. agent a mile away. + +Larkin had a dimple when he smiled and Pell would bet he knew it. "We'd +have called your home if we hadn't found you here. Sit down, Dick." + +Pell sat glumly. For the first time, he noticed the men who had come in +with the Chief. He recognized both. One was fiftyish, tall, +solidly-built and well-dressed on the conservative side. His face was +strong, square and oddly pale, as if someone had taken finest white +marble and roughly hacked a face into it. Pell had seen that face in +faxpapers often. The man was Theodor Rysland, once a wealthy corporation +lawyer, now a World Government adviser in an unofficial way. Some +admired him as a selfless public servant; others swore he was a +power-mad tyrant. Few were indifferent. + +"I'm sure you recognize Mr. Rysland," said Chief Larkin, smiling. "And +this is Dr. Walter Nebel, of the World Department of Education." + +Dr. Walter Nebel was slight and had a head remarkably tiny in proportion +to the rest of him. He wore cropped hair. His eyes were turtle-lidded +and at first impression sleepy, and then, with a second look--wary. Pell +remembered that he had won fame some time ago by discovering the +electrolytic enzyme in the thought process. Pell wasn't sure exactly +what this was, but the faxpapers had certainly made a fuss about it at +the time. + +He shook hands with the two men and then said to Larkin, "What's up?" + +"Patience," said Larkin and shuffled chairs into place. + +Rysland sat down solidly and gravely; Nebel perched. Rysland looked at +Pell with a strong, level stare and said, "It's my sincere hope that +this meeting tonight will prevent resumption of the war with Venus." + +Larkin said, "Amen." + +Pell stared back in some surprise. High-level stuff! + +Rysland saw his stare and chuckled. "Chief Larkin tells me your +sympathies are more or less Universalist. Not that it would be +necessary, but it helps." + +"Oh," said Pell, with mild bewilderment. The difference between the +Universal and Defense parties was pretty clear-cut. The Universalists +hoped to resume full relations with Venus and bring about a really +secure peace through friendship and trade. It would admittedly be a +tough struggle, and the Defenders didn't think it was possible. Forget +Venus, said they; fortify Earth, keep the line of demarcation on Mars, +and sit tight. + +"But there is, as you may know," said Rysland, "a third course in our +relations with Venus." + +"There is?" asked Pell. From the corner of his eye he saw Chief Larkin +looking at him with an expression of--what, amusement? Yes, amusement, +largely, but with a touch of contempt, too, perhaps. Hard to say. + +"The third course," said Rysland, not smiling, "would be to attack Venus +again, resume the war, and hope to win quickly. We know Venus is +exhausted from the recent struggle. A sudden, forceful attack might +possibly subjugate her. At least, that is the argument of a certain +group called the Supremists." + +Dr. Nebel spoke for the first time. Pell realized that the man had been +watching him closely. His voice was sibilant; it seemed to drag itself +through wet grass. "Also Venus is psychologically unprepared for war; +the Supremists believe that, too." + +Pell reached back into his memory. The Supremists. They were a minor +political party--sort of a cult, too. The outfit had sprung up in the +last year or so. Supremists believed that Earthmen, above all other +creatures, had a destiny--were chosen--were supreme. They had several +followers as delegates in World Congress. General impression: slightly +crackpot. + +"The Supremists," said Theodor Rysland, tapping his hard, white palm, +and leaning forward, "have been calling for attack. Aggression. Starting +the war with Venus all over again. And they're not only a vociferous +nuisance. They have an appeal in this business of Earthman's supremacy. +They're gaining converts every day. In short, _they've now become +dangerous_." + + * * * * * + +Pell thought it over as Rysland talked. Certainly the idea of renewed +war was nightmarish. He'd been in the last one: who hadn't? It had +started in 2117, the year he was born, and it had dragged on for +twenty-five years until T-day and the truce. The causes? Well, both +Earth and Venus worked the mineral deposits on Mars unimpeded by the +non-intelligent insectile life on that planet, and the original +arguments had been about those mineral deposits, though there were +enough for a dozen planets there. The causes were more complicated and +obscure than that. Semantics, partly. There was freedom as Earthmen saw +it and freedom as the Venusians saw it. Same with honor and good and +evil. They were always two different things. And then Venusians had a +greenish tinge to their skins and called the Earthmen, in their clicking +language, "Pink-faces." And both Earthmen and Venusians hated like the +devil to see the other get away with anything. + +Anyway, there had been war, terrible war. Space battle, air battle, +landing, repulse. Stalemate. Finally, through utter weariness perhaps, +truce. Now, a taut, uneasy, suspicious peace. Communications opened, a +few art objects mutually exchanged. Immigration for a few Venusian +dancers or students or diplomats. It wasn't much, but it was all in the +right direction. At least Pell felt so. + +Rysland was saying: "We're not sure, of course, but we suspect--we +_feel_--that more than mere accident may be behind these Supremists." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Someone seeking power, perhaps. As I said, we don't know. We want to +find out. Dr. Nebel has been interested for some time in the curious +psychology of these Supremists--their blind, unthinking loyalty to their +cause, for instance. He is, as you know, a special assistant in the +Department of Education. He asked my help in arranging for an +investigation, and I agreed with him wholeheartedly that one should be +made." + +"And I told these gentlemen," said Chief Larkin, "that I'd put a detail +on it right away." + +Now Pell believed he saw through it. Larkin didn't believe it was +important at all; he was just obliging these Vips. A man couldn't have +too many friends in World Government circles, after all. But of course +Larkin couldn't afford to put one of his bright, machine-minded boys on +it, and so Pell was the patsy. + +"Could I remind you," said Pell, "that my vacation is supposed to start +tomorrow?" + +"Now, now, Dick," said Larkin, turning on the personality, "this won't +take you long. Just a routine report. The computers ought to give you +all the information you need in less than a day." + +"That's what you always say, every time I'm ready to take a vacation. +I've been saving up for two years now...." + +"Dick, that's hardly the right attitude for an agent who is so close to +making second grade." + +Larkin had him over a barrel, there. Pell desperately wanted to make his +promotion. Second-graders didn't spend their time at the control banks +gathering data; they did mostly desk work and evaluation. They had a +little more time to spend with their wives. He said, "Okay, okay," and +got up. + +"Where are you going?" + +"To get my wife on the viewer and tell her I won't be home for a while +after all." + +He left the three of them chuckling and thought: _He jests at scars who +never felt a wound._ He didn't say it aloud. You could quote formulae or +scientific precepts in front of Larkin, but not Shakespeare. + + * * * * * + +He punched out his home number and waited until Ciel's image swirled +into the viewplate. His heart went boppety-bop as it always did. Hair of +polished gold. Dark eyes, ripe olives, a little large for her face and +sometimes deep and fathomless. She wore a loose, filmy nightgown and the +suggestion of her body under it was enough to bring on a touch of +madness in him. + +"Let me say it," Ciel said. She wasn't smiling. "You won't be home for a +while. You've got another case." + +"Well--yes. That's it, more or less." Pell swallowed. + +"Oh, Dick." + +"I'm sorry, honey. It's just that something important came up. I've got +a conference on my hands. It shouldn't take more than an hour." + +"And we were supposed to leave for the moon in the morning." + +"Listen, baby, this is absolutely the last time. I mean it. As soon as +this thing is washed up we'll _really_ take that vacation. Look, I'll +tell you what, I'll meet you somewhere in an hour. We'll have some +fun--take in a floor show--drink a little meth. We haven't done that in +a long time. How about the Stardust Cafe? I hear they've got a terrific +new mentalist there." + +Ciel said, "No." + +"Don't be like that. We need an evening out. It'll hold us until I get +this new case washed up. That won't be long, but at least we'll have a +little relaxation." + +Ciel said, "Well...." + +"Attababy. One hour. Absolutely. You just go to Station B-90, take the +lift to topside and it's right on Shapley Boulevard there. You can't +miss it." + +"I know where it is," said Ciel. She shook her finger. "Richard Pell, so +help me, if you stand me up this time...." + +"Baby!" he said in a tone of deep injury. + +"Goodbye, Dick." She clicked off. + +Pell had the feeling that even the free-flowing meth and the gaiety of +the Stardust Cafe wouldn't really help matters much. He sighed deeply as +he turned and went back into the other room. + + + + +Chapter II + + +A little over an hour later he stepped from the elevator kiosk at +Station B-90 and breathed the night air of topside. It was less pure +actually than the carefully controlled tunnel air, but it was somehow +infinitely more wonderful. At least to a sentimental primitive boob like +Richard Pell, it was. Oh, he knew that it was infinitely more sensible +to live and work entirely underground as people did these days--but just +the same he loved the look of the black sky with the crushed diamonds of +stars thrown across it and he loved the uneven breeze and the faint +smell of trees and grass. + +This particular topside section was given over to entertainment; all +about him were theaters and cafes and picnic groves and airports for +flying sports. A few hundred feet ahead he could see the +three-dimensional atmospheric projection that marked the Stardust Cafe, +and he could hear faintly the mournful sound of a Venusian lament being +played by the askarins. He was glad they hadn't banned Venusian music, +anyway, although he wouldn't be surprised if they did, some day. + +That was one of the things these Supremists were trying to do. Rysland +and Chief Larkin had given him a long and careful briefing on the outfit +so that he could start work tomorrow with his partner, Steve Kronski. +Steve, of course, would shrug phlegmatically, swing his big shoulders +toward the computer rooms and say, "Let's go to work." It would be just +another assignment to him. + +As a matter of fact, the job would be not without a certain amount of +interest. There were a couple of puzzling things about these Supremists +that Rysland had pointed out. First of all, they didn't seem to be at +all organized or incorporated. No headquarters, no officers that anybody +knew about. They just _were_. It was a complete mystery how a man became +a Supremist, how they kept getting new members all the time. Yet you +couldn't miss a Supremist whenever you met one. Before the conversation +was half over he'd start spouting about the destiny of Earthmen and the +general inferiority of all other creatures and so on. It sounded like +hogwash to Pell. He wondered how such an attitude could survive in a +scientific age. + +Nor would a Supremist be essentially a moron or a neurotic; they were +found in all walks of life, at all educational and emotional levels. +Rysland told how he had questioned a few, trying to discover when, where +and how they joined the movement: Apparently there was nothing to join, +at least to hear them tell it. They just knew one day that they were +Supremists, and that was the word. Rysland had shaken his head sadly and +said, "Their belief is completely without logic--and maybe that's what +makes it so strong. Maybe that's what frightens me about it." + + * * * * * + +Okay, tomorrow then Pell would tackle it. Tomorrow he'd think about it. +Right now he had a date with his best girl. + +He entered the cafe and the music of the askarins swirled more loudly +about his head and he looked through the smoke and colored light until +he spotted Ciel sitting in a rear booth. The place was crowded. On the +small dance floor before the orchestra nearly nude Venusian girls were +going through the writhing motions of a serpentine dance. Their greenish +skins shimmered iridescently. The sad-faced Venusian musicians on the +band-stand waved their graceful, spatulated fingers over their curious, +boxlike askarins, producing changing tones and overtones by the altered +capacitance. A rocketman in the black and silver uniform of the Space +Force was trying to stumble drunkenly out on to the floor with the +dancers and his friends were holding him back. There was much laughter +about the whole thing. The Venusian girls kept dancing and didn't change +their flat, almost lifeless expressions. + +Ciel looked up without smiling when he got to the booth. She had a +half-finished glass of meth before her. + +He tried a smile anyway. "Hello, baby." He sat down. + +She said, "I didn't really think you'd get here. I could have had dates +with exactly eleven spacemen. I kept count." + +"You have been faithful to me, Cynara, in your fashion. I need a drink +and don't want to wait for the waitress. Mind?" He took her half glass +of meth and tossed it down. He felt the wonderful illusion of an +explosion in his skull, and it seemed to him that his body was suddenly +the strongest in the world and that he could whip everybody in the joint +with one arm tied behind his back. He said, "Wow." + +Ciel tried a smile now. "It does that to you when you're not used to +it." + +The first effect passed and he felt only the warmth of the drink. He +signaled a waitress and ordered a couple more. "Don't forget to remind +me to take a hangover pill before I go to work in the morning," he told +Ciel. + +"You--you are going to work in the morning, then?" + +"Afraid I can't get out of it." + +"And the moon trip's off?" + +"Not off, just postponed. We'll get to it, don't worry." + +"Dick." + +"Yes?" + +"I can take it just so long, putting our vacation off and off and off." +Her eyes were earnest, liquid and opaque. "I've been thinking about it. +Trying to arrive at something. I'm beginning to wonder, Dick, if maybe +we hadn't just better, well--call it quits, or something." + +He stared at her. "Baby, what are you saying?" + + * * * * * + +A sudden, fanfare-like blast from the orchestra interrupted. They looked +at the dance floor. There was a flash of light, a swirling of mist, and +within the space of a second the Venusian girls suddenly disappeared and +their place was taken by a tall, hawk-nosed, dark-eyed man with a cloak +slung dramatically over one shoulder. The audience applauded. + +"That's Marco, the new mentalist," said Pell. + +Ciel shrugged to show that she wasn't particularly impressed. Neither +was Pell, to tell the truth. Mentalists were all the rage, partly +because everybody could practice a little amateur telepathy and +hypnotism in his own home. Mentalists, of course, made a career of it +and were much better at it than anybody else. + +Their drinks came and they watched Marco go through his act in a rather +gloomy silence. Marco was skillful, but not especially unusual. He did +the usual stuff: calling out things that people wrote on slips of paper, +calling out dates on coins, and even engaging in mental duels wherein +the challenger wrote a phrase, concealed it from Marco, and then +deliberately tried to keep him from reading it telepathically. He had +the usual hypnotism session with volunteers who were certain they could +resist. He made them hop around the stage like monkeys, burn their +fingers on pieces of ice, and so on. The audience roared with laughter. +Pell and Ciel just kept staring. + +When Marco had finished his act and the thundering applause had faded +the Venusian dancing girls came back on the stage again. + +Ciel yawned. + +Pell said, "Me, too. Let's get out of here." + +It wasn't until they were home in their underground apartment and +getting ready for bed that Ciel turned to him and said, "You see?" + +He was buttoning his pajamas. "See what?" + +"It's _us_, Dick. It's not the floor show, or the meth, or +anything--it's _us_. We can't enjoy _anything_ together any more." + +He said, "Now wait a minute...." + +But she had already stepped into the bedroom and slammed the door. He +heard the lock click. + +"Hey," he said, "what am I supposed to do, sleep out here?" + +He took the ensuing silence to mean that he was. + +And he did. + + * * * * * + +The next morning, as he came into the office, Pell scowled deeply and +went to his desk without saying good morning to anybody. Ciel had kept +herself locked in the bedroom and he had made his own breakfast. How it +was all going to end he didn't know. He had the feeling that she was +working herself up to the decision to leave him. And the real hell of it +was that he couldn't exactly blame her. + +"Morning, partner," said a voice above him. He looked up. Way up. Steve +Kronski was built along the general lines of a water buffalo. The usual +battered grin was smeared across his face. "I see we got a new +assignment." + +"Oh--did Larkin brief you on it already?" + +"Yeah. Before I could get my hat off. Funny set-up, all right. I punched +for basic data before you got in. Hardly any." + +"Maybe that means something in itself. Maybe somebody saw to it that the +information never got into the central banks." + +The C.I.B. computers could be hooked into the central banks which stored +information on nearly everything and everybody. If you incorporated, +filed for a patent, paid taxes, voted, or just were born, the central +banks had an electronic record of it. + +Kronski jerked his thumb toward the computer room. "I punched for names +of Supremist members coupla minutes ago. Thought maybe we could start in +that way." + +Pell followed, his mind not really on the job yet. He wasn't at his best +working with the computers, and yet operating them was ninety per cent +of investigation. He supposed he'd get used to it sometime. + +Three walls of the big computer room were lined with control racks, +consisting mostly of keyboard setups. Code symbols and index cards were +placed in handy positions. The C.I.B. circuits, of course, were adapted +to the specialized work of investigation. In the memory banks of tubes +and relays there was a master file of all names--aliases and nicknames +included--with which the organization had ever been concerned. +Criminals, witnesses, complaints, everyone. Code numbers linked to the +names showed where data on their owner could be found. A name picked at +random might show that person to have data in the suspect file, the +arrest file, the psychological file, the modus operandi file, and so +forth. Any of the data in these files could be checked, conversely, +against the names. + +Kronski walked over to where letter sized cards were flipping from a +slot into a small bin. He said, "Didn't even have to dial in Central +Data for these. Seems we got a lot of Supremist members right in our own +little collection." + +Pell picked up one of the cards and examined it idly. Vertical columns +were inscribed along the card, each with a heading, and with further +sub-headed columns. Under the column marked _Modus Operandi_, for +instance, there were subcolumns titled _Person Attacked_, _Property +Attacked_, _How Attacked_, _Means of Attack_, _Object of Attack_, and +_Trademark_. Columns of digits, one to nine, were under each item. If +the digits 3 and 2 were punched under _Trademark_ the number 32 could be +fed into the Operational Data machine and this machine would then give +back the information on a printed slip that number 32 stood for the +trademark of leaving cigar butts at the scene of the crime. + +"Got five hundred now," said Kronski. "I'll let a few more run in case +we need alternates." + +"Okay," said Pell. "I'll start this batch through the analyzer." + +He took the cards across the room to a machine about twenty feet long +and dropped them into the feeder at one end. Channels and rollers ran +along the top of this machine and under them were a series of vertical +slots into which the selected cards could drop. He cleared the previous +setting and ran the pointer to _Constants_. He set the qualitative dial +to 85%. This meant that on the first run the punch hole combinations in +the cards would be scanned and any item common to 85% of the total would +be registered in a relay. Upon the second run the machine would select +the cards with this constant and drop them into a slot corresponding +with that heading. Further scanning, within the slot itself, would pick +out the constant number. + +Pell started the rollers whirring. + +Kronski came over. He rubbed his battered nose. "Hope we get outside on +this case. I'm gettin' sick o' the office. Haven't been out in weeks." + +Pell nodded. Oh, for the life of a C.I.B. man. In teleplays they +cornered desperate criminals in the dark ruins of the ancient cities +topside, and fought it out with freezers. The fact was, although +regulations called for them to carry freezers in their shoulder +holsters, one in a thousand ever got a chance to use them. + +Pell said, "Maybe you need a vacation." + +"Maybe. Only I keep putting my vacation off. Got a whole month saved up +now." + +"Me, too." Pell sighed. Ciel would probably be pacing the floor back +home now, trying to make up her mind. To break it up, or not to break it +up? There would be no difficulty, really: she had been a pretty good +commercial artist before they were married and she wouldn't have any +trouble finding a job again somewhere in World City. + +The rollers kept whirring and the cards flipping along with a whispering +sound. + +"Wonder what we're looking into these Supremists for?" asked Kronski. "I +always thought they were some kind of harmless crackpots." + +"The Chief doesn't think so. Neither does Theodor Rysland." He told +Kronski more about the interview last night. + +Presently the machine stopped, clicked several times and began rolling +the other way. + +"Well, it found something," said Kronski. + +They kept watching. Oh, for the life of a C.I.B. man. Cards began to +drop into one of the slots. The main heading was _Physical_ and the +sub-heading _Medical History_. Pell frowned and said, "Certainly didn't +expect to find a constant in this department." He picked up a few of the +first cards and looked at them, hoping to catch the constant by eye. He +caught it. "What's 445 under this heading?" + + * * * * * + +Kronski said, "I'll find out," and stepped over to the Operational Data +board. He worked it, took the printed slip that came out and called +back: "Record of inoculation." + +"That's a funny one." + +"Yup. Sure is." Kronski stared at the slip and scratched his neck. "It +must be just any old kind inoculation. If it was special--like typhoid +or tetanus or something--it'd have another digit." + +"There must be some other boil-downs, if we could think of them." Pell +was frowning heavily. Some of the other men, used to the machines, could +grab a boil-down out of thin air, run the cards again and get another +significant constant. The machine, however, inhibited Pell. It made him +feel uneasy and stupid whenever he was around it. + +"How about location?" suggested Kronski. + +Pell shook his head. "I checked a few by eye. All different numbers +under location. Some of 'em come from World City, some from Mars +Landing, some from way out in the sticks. Nothing significant there." + +"Maybe what we need is a cup of coffee." + +Pell grinned. "Best idea all morning. Come on." + +Some minutes later they sat across from each other at a table in the big +cafeteria on the seventy-third level. It was beginning to be crowded now +with personnel from other departments and bureaus. The coffee urge came +for nearly everybody in the government offices at about the same time. +Pell was studying by eye a handful of spare data cards he'd brought +along and Kronski was reading faxpaper clippings from a large manila +envelope marked _Supremist Party_. Just on a vague hunch Pell had +viewplated Central Public Relations and had them send the envelope down +by tube. + +"_Prominent Educator Addresses Supremist Rally_," Kronski muttered. +"_Three Spaceport Cargomen Arrested at Supremist Riot. Young Supremists +Form Rocket Club._ Looks like anybody and everybody can be a Supremist. +And his grandmother. Wonder how they do it?" + +"Don't know." Pell wasn't really listening. + +"And here's a whole town went over to the Supremists. On the moon." + +"Uh-huh," said Pell. + +Kronski sipped his coffee loudly. A few slender, graceful young men from +World Commerce looked at him distastefully. "Happened just this year. +New Year they all went over. Augea, in the Hercules Mountains. Big +celebration." + +Pell looked up and said, "Wait a minute...." + +"Wait for what? I'm not goin' anywhere. Not on this swivel-chair of a +job, damn it." + +"New Year they all become Supremists. And the last week of December +everybody on the moon gets his inoculations, right?" + +"Search me." + +"But I know that. I found that out when I was tailing those two gamblers +who had a place on the moon, remember?" + +"So it may be a connection." Kronski shrugged. + +"It may be the place where we can study a bunch of these cases in a +batch instead of picking 'em one by one." + +"You mean we oughta take a trip to the moon?" + +"Might not hurt for a few days." + +Kronski was grinning at him. + +"What are you grinning at?" + +"First you got to stay over on your vacation, so you can't go to the +moon with your wife. Now all of a sudden you decide duty has got to take +you to the moon, huh?" + +Pell grinned back then. "What are you squawking about? You said you +wanted to get out on this case." + +Kronski, still grinning, got up. "I'm not complaining. I'm just +demonstrating my powers of deduction, as they say in teleplays. Come on, +let's go make rocket reservations." + + + + +Chapter III + + +The big tourist rocket let them down at the Endymion Crater Landing, and +they went through the usual immigration and customs formalities in the +underground city there. They stayed in a hotel overnight, Pell and Ciel +looking very much like tourists, Kronski tagging along and looking +faintly out of place. In the morning--morning according to the 24 hour +earth clock, that is--they took the jitney rocket to the resort town of +Augea, in the Hercules Mountains. The town was really a cliff dwelling, +built into the side of a great precipice with quartz windows overlooking +a tremendous, stark valley. + +It was hard to say just what attraction the moon had as a vacation land, +and it was a matter of unfathomable taste. You either liked it, or you +didn't. If you didn't, you couldn't understand what people who liked it +saw in it. They couldn't quite explain. "It's so quiet. It's so vast. +It's so beautiful," they'd say, but never anything clearer than that. + +[Illustration] + +Augea itself was like twenty other resorts scattered throughout both the +northern and southern latitudes of the moon. Except for the military +posts and scientific research stations the moon had little value other +than as a vacation land. People came there to rest, to look at the +bizarre landscape through quartz, or occasionally to don spacesuits and +go out on guided exploration trips. + +Immediately after checking into their hotel Pell and Kronski got +directions to the office of the Resident Surgeon and prepared to go +there. Ciel looked on quietly as Pell tightened the straps of his +shoulder holster and checked the setting on his freezer. + +Ciel said, "I knew it." + +"Knew what, honey?" Pell went to the mirror to brush his hair. He wasn't +sure it would materially improve the beauty of his long, knobby, faintly +melancholy face, but he did it any way. + +"The minute we get here you have to go out on business." + +He turned, kissed her, then held and patted her hand. "That's just +because I want to get it over with. Then I'll have time for you. Then +we'll have lots of time together." + +She melted into him suddenly. She put her arms around his neck and held +him tightly. "If I didn't love you, you big lug, it wouldn't be so bad. +But, Dick, I can't go on like this much longer. I just can't." + +"Now, baby," he started to say. + +There was a knock on the door then and he knew Kronski was ready. He +broke away from her, threw a kiss and said, "Later. Later, baby." + +She nodded and held her under lip in with her upper teeth. + +He sighed and left. + + * * * * * + +Pell and Kronski left the hotel and started walking along the winding +tunnel with the side wall of quartz. On their right the huge valley, +with its stark, unearthly landshapes, stretched away. It was near the +end of the daylight period and the shadows from the distant peaks, +across the valley, were long and deep. Some of them, with little +reflected light, seemed to be patches of nothingness. Pell fancied he +could step through them into another dimension. + +All about them, even here in the side of the mountain, and behind the +thick quartz, there was the odd, utterly dead silence of the moon. + +Their footsteps echoed sparsely in the corridor. + +Pell said to Kronski, "Got the story all straight?" + +"Like as if it was true." + +"Remember the signal?" + +"Sure. Soon as you say we're out of cigarettes. What's the matter, you +think I'm a moron, I can't remember?" + +Pell laughed and clapped him on the shoulder blade. + +Minutes later they turned in from the corridor, went through another, +shorter passageway and then came to a door marked: Resident Surgeon. +They knocked and a deep voice boomed: "Come in!" + +It was a medium-sized room, clearly a dispensary. There was an operating +table, a sterilizer, tall glass-fronted instrument cabinets and a +refrigerator. At the far end of the room a hulking, bear-like man sat +behind a magnalloy desk. The nameplate on the desk said: Hal H. Wilcox, +M.D. + +"Howdy, gents," said Dr. Hal H. Wilcox, shattering the moon-silence with +a vengeance. "What can I do for you?" he was all smiles. + +That smile, decided Pell, didn't quite match the shrewdness of his eyes. +Have to watch this boy, maybe. There was a big quartz window behind the +man so that for the moment Pell saw him almost in silhouette. "We're +from _Current_ magazine," said Pell. "I'm Dick Pell and this is Steve +Kronski. You got our radio, I guess." + +"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed." Wilcox creaked way back in his chair. "You're +the fellas want to do a story on us moon surgeons." + +"That's right." Pell fumbled a little self-consciously with the gravity +weights clipped to his trousers. Took a while for moon visitors to get +used to them, everybody said. + +"Well, I don't know exactly as how there's much of a story in what we +do. We're just a bunch of sawbones stationed here, that's all." + +"We're interested in the diseases peculiar to the moon," said Pell. "For +instance, why do the permanent residents up here have to have an +inoculation every year?" + +"That's for the Venusian rash. Thought everybody knew that." + +"Venusian rash?" + +"Nearest thing we ever had to it on Earth was Rocky Mountain Spotted +Fever. It's a rickettsia disease. Makes a fella pretty sick; sometimes +kills him in two, three days. It started when they had those Venusian +construction workers and tunnel men here, oh, long before the war. Under +certain conditions the rickettsia stays dormant and then pops up again." + +"And the inoculation's for that?" + +"Standard. Once a year. You got the inoculation yourself, no doubt, +before you jumped off for the moon." + +"Where does the serum or whatever you call it come from?" + +Pell thought he saw Wilcox's eyes flicker. The doctor said, "It's stored +at the main landings. We draw it as we need it from there." + +"Have any here now?" + +Wilcox's eyes did move this time. He looked at the refrigerator--but +only for the veriest moment. "Don't really reckon so," he said finally. +He was staring blankly at Pell again. + +Pell patted his pockets, turned to Kronski and said, "You know, I think +we're out of cigarettes." Before Kronski could answer he moved to the +big quartz window behind Wilcox's desk. He gazed at the moonscape. "Just +can't get over how big and quiet it is," he said. + +Wilcox turned and gazed with him. + +Kronski drew his freezer. He pointed it, squeezed, and there was a soft, +momentary buzzing and a twinkling of violet sparks at the muzzle of the +weapon. + +Wilcox sat where he was, frozen, knowing nothing. + + * * * * * + +Pell turned fast. "Come on, Steve. Let's get it." They both stepped to +the refrigerator. + +They had only seconds; Kronski's weapon had been set at a low reading. +The time of paralysis varied with the individual and Doc Wilcox looked +husky enough not to stay frozen very long. If Pell and Kronski returned +to their original positions after he came out of it he would never know +that anything had happened. + +Far back on a lower shelf of the refrigerator were a dozen small bottles +of the same type. Pell grabbed one, glanced at the label, nodded, and +dropped it into his pocket. They took their places again. + +A few moments later Wilcox moved slightly and said, "Yup. Moon's a funny +place all right. You either like it or you don't." + +The rest of the conversation was fairly uninspired. Pell didn't want to +walk out too quickly, and had to keep up the pretense of interviewing +Wilcox for a magazine story. It wasn't easy. They excused themselves +finally, saying they'd be back for more information as soon as they made +up some notes and got the overall picture--whatever that meant. Wilcox +seemed satisfied with it. + +They hurried back along the tunnel, descended to another level and found +the Augea Post Office. They showed the postmaster their C.I.B. shields +and identification cards and arranged for quick and special handling for +the bottle of vaccine. Pell marked it _Attention, Lab_, and it was +scheduled to take a quick rocket to the Endymion landing and the next +unmanned mail rocket back to World City. + +Pell stayed at the Post Office to make out a quick report on the +incident so he wouldn't have to bore Ciel by doing it in the room, and +Kronski sauntered on back to the hotel. + +There was a fax receiver there and Pell, missing the hourly voice +bulletins of World City Underground, checked it for news. The pages were +coming out in a long tongue. He looked at the first headline: + + VENUSIAN OBSERVERS ADMITTED TO WORLD CONGRESS + +Well, that was a step in the right direction. Maybe one of these days +they'd get around to a Solar Congress, as they ought to. The recent open +war with Venus had taught both Earthmen and Venusians a lot about space +travel, and it was probably possible to explore the solar system further +right now. No one had yet gone beyond the asteroids. Recent observations +from the telescope stations here on the moon had found what seemed to be +geometrical markings on some of Jupiter's satellites. Life there? Could +be. Candidates for a brotherhood of the zodiac--if both Terrans and +Venusians could get the concept of brotherhood pounded through their +still partially savage skulls. + +Another headline: + + 'WE CAN LICK UNIVERSE'--WAR SEC + +Not so good, that. Loose talk. Actually it was an Undersecretary of War +who had said it. Pell ran over the rest of the article quickly and came +to what seemed to him a significant excerpt. "_Certain patriotic groups +in the world today are ready and willing to make the necessary +sacrifices to get it over with. There is a fundamental difference +between Earthmen and other creatures of the system, and this difference +can be resolved only by the dominance of one over the other._" + +Supremist stuff. Strictly. If this Undersecretary were not actually a +member he was at least a supporter of the Supremist line. And that line +had an appeal for the unthinking, Pell had to admit. It was pleasant to +convince yourself that you were a superior specimen, that you were +chosen.... + + VENUSIAN SPY SUSPECTS HELD ON MARS + +Pell frowned deeply at that one and read the story. A couple of Venusian +miners on Mars had wandered too close to one of the Earth military +outposts, and had been nabbed. He doubted that they were spies; he +doubted that the authorities holding them thought so. But it seemed to +make a better story with a slight scare angle. He thought about how Mars +was divided at an arbitrary meridian--half to Venus, half to Earth. The +division solved nothing, pleased nobody. Joe Citizen, the man in the +tunnels could see these things, why couldn't these so-called trained +diplomats? + +Pell finished his report, questioned the Postmaster a little on routine +facts concerning the town, and went back to the hotel. + + * * * * * + +Ciel was waiting for him. She was in a smart, frontless frock of +silvercloth. Her golden hair shone. Her large, dark eyes looked deep, +moist, alive. She looked at him questioningly? and he read the silent +question: _Now can you spare a little time?_ + +"Baby," he said softly, and kissed her. + +"Mm," he said when he had finished kissing her. + +The voice-phone rang. + +He said, "Damn it." + +It was Kronski, in his own room next door. "Did Wilcox leave yet?" he +asked. + +"Wilcox?" + +"Yeah. The Doc. Is he still there?" + +"I didn't know he was here at all." + +Kronski said, "Huh?" + +Pell said, "Maybe we better back up and start all over again." + +"Wilcox, the Resident Surgeon Doc Wilcox," said Kronski, not too +patiently. "He was in my room a little while ago. Said he'd drop by on +his way out and see if you were in." + +Pell glanced at Ciel. She was busy lighting a cigarette at the other end +of the room. Or pretending to be busy. Pell said, "I just got here. Just +this minute. I didn't see any Wilcox. What'd he want?" + +"I don't know exactly. He was kind of vague about it. Wanted to know if +he could answer any more questions for us, or anything like that." + +"Sounds screwy." + +"Yeah. It sure does, now that I think it over." + +"Let me call you back," said Pell and hung up. He turned to Ciel. "Was +Doc Wilcox here?" + +"Why, yes. He stopped in." Nothing but blank innocence on her face. + +"Why didn't you tell me?" + +"Hm?" She raised her eyebrows. "He just stopped in to see if you were +here, that was all. I told him you weren't and he went out again." + +"But you didn't mention it." + +"Well, why should I?" + +"I don't know. I'd think you'd say something about it." + +"Now, listen, Dick--I'm not some suspect you're grilling. What's the +matter with you, anyway?" + +"It just strikes me as funny that Wilcox should drop in here and you +shouldn't say one word about it, that's all." + +"Well, I like that." She folded her arms. "You're getting to be so much +of a cop you're starting to be suspicious of your own wife." + +"Now, you know it's not that at all." + +"What else is it? Dick, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of this whole stupid +business you're in. The first time we get a few minutes alone together +you start giving me the third degree. I won't stand for it, that's all!" + +"Now, baby," he said and took a step toward her. + +The deeper tone of the viewer sounded. + + * * * * * + +"Agh, for Pete's sake," he said disgustedly and answered the call. The +image of Chief Larkin's boyishly handsome face came into focus on the +screen. Pell lifted a surprised eyebrow and said, "Oh, hello, Chief." + +Larkin's eye was cold. Especially cold in the setting of that boyish +face. "What in hell," he asked, "are you and Kronski doing on the moon?" + +"Hm?" Now it was Pell's turn to look innocent. "Why, you know what we're +doing, Chief. We're investigating that case. You know the one--I don't +want to mention it over the viewer." + +"Who the devil authorized you to go traipsing to the _moon_ to do it?" + +"Why, nobody authorized us. I thought--I mean, when you're working on a +case and you have a lead, you're supposed to go after it, aren't you?" + +"Yes, but not when it's a crazy wild goose chase." In the viewer Pell +saw the Chief slam his desk with the palm of his hand. "I'd like to know +what in blazes you think you can do on the moon that you can't do in a +good healthy session at the computers?" + +"Well, that's kind of hard to explain over the viewer. We have made some +progress, though. I just sent you a report on it." + +Larkin narrowed one eye. "Pell, who do you think you're fooling?" + +"Fooling?" + +"You heard me. I know damn well you wanted to take a vacation on the +moon. But we have a little job for you that holds you up, and what do +you do? The next best thing, eh? You see to it that the job _takes_ you +to the moon." + +"Now, Chief, it wasn't that at all...." + +"The devil it wasn't. Now, listen to me, Pell. You pack your bags and +get right back to World City. The next rocket you can get. You +understand?" + +Before he answered the question he looked at Ciel. She was staring at +him quietly. Again he could read something of what was in her mind. He +knew well enough that she was trying to say to him: "_Make a clean break +now. Tell him No, you won't come back. Quit. Now's the time to do +it--unless you want that stupid job of yours more than you want me...._" + +Pell sighed deeply, slowly looked into the viewer again and said, +"Kronski and I'll be back on the next rocket, Chief." + + + + +Chapter IV + + +Back again in the underground offices of C.I.B., Agent Richard Pell +plunged into his job. Up to his neck. It was the only way he could keep +from brooding about Ciel. She was somewhere in the city at this very +moment and if he really wanted to take the trouble he'd be able to find +her easily enough--but he didn't want it to happen that way. She'd never +really be his again unless _she_ came to _him_.... + +And so once more he found himself in the office late at night. Alone. +Poring over the lab reports that had come in that afternoon, turning +them over in his mind and hoping, he supposed, for a nice intuitive +flash, free of charge. + +As a matter of fact the analysis of the vaccine he'd lifted from +Wilcox's dispensary was not without significance. There was definitely +an extraneous substance. The only question was just what this substance +might be. Take a little longer to find that out, the report said. + +It made Pell think of the corny sign World Government officials always +had on their desks, the one about doing the difficult right away and +taking a little longer for the impossible. Some day, when he was a +big-shot, he would have a sign on his desk saying: _Why make things +difficult when with even less effort you can make them impossible?_ Of +course, ideas like that were probably the very reason he'd never be a +big-shot.... + +The Identifier humming. Someone coming again. + +He looked up, and then had the curious feeling of being jerked back in +time to several nights ago. Chief Larkin and Theodor Rysland entered. + +"Hello, Dick," said Larkin, with a touch of studied democracy. He +glanced at the government adviser as if to say: _See? Knew we'd find him +here._ + +Pell made a sour face. "Some day I'm going to stop giving all this free +overtime. Some day I'm not going to show up at all." + +Rysland smiled, dislodging some of the rock strata of his curiously pale +face. He seemed a little weary this evening. He moved slowly and with +even more than his usual dignity. He said, "I hope, Mr. Pell, that +you'll wait at least until you finish this job for us. I understand +you've made some progress." + +Pell shrugged and gestured at the lab report. "Progress, maybe--but I +don't know how far. Just a bunch of new puzzles to be perfectly frank." + +Rysland sat down at the other desk and drummed on it with his +fingertips. He looked at Pell gravely. "As a matter of fact, since we +last talked to you the situation has become even more urgent. A +Supremist congressman introduced a bill today before the world delegates +which may prove very dangerous. Perhaps you know the one I refer to." + +"I was too busy to follow the news today," said Pell, looking +meaningfully at Larkin. + +Larkin didn't seem to notice. + +Rysland said, "I'll brief you then. The bill purports to prohibit +material aid of any kind to a non-Terran government. That means both +credit and goods. And since the only real non-Terran government we know +is Venus, it's obviously directed specifically at the Venusians." + +Pell thought it over. High level stuff again. He nodded to show he +followed. + +"On the surface," continued Rysland, "this would seem to be a sort of +anti-espionage bill. Actually, it's a deliberately provocative act. I +know the Venusians will take it that way. But right now certain quarters +are secretly trying to negotiate a trade treaty with Venus which would +be a major step toward peaceful relations. If this bill became law, such +a treaty would be impossible." + +"But World Congress isn't likely to pass such a bill, is it? Won't they +see through it?" + +Rysland frowned. "That's what we're not sure of. Messages are pouring in +urging passage--all of them from Supremists, of course. The Supremists +are relatively few, but they make a lot of noise. Sometimes noise like +that is effective. It could swing a lot of delegates who don't see the +real danger of this bill and are at the moment undecided. The Defender +side, with its desire to isolate and fortify, is especially +susceptible." + +"That _is_ bad," said Pell thoughtfully. + + * * * * * + +Rysland put his palm on the desk. "Now then, if we can somehow discredit +the Supremists--get to the bottom of this thing quickly enough--I'm sure +that bill will be killed. I came here tonight, I suppose, out of pure +anxiety. In other words, Mr. Pell, just how far are you?" + +Pell smiled and shook his head. "Not very, I'm afraid. This Supremist +thing is the damndest I ever came across. No central headquarters, no +officers, no propaganda mill--entirely word of mouth as far as I can +see. No way of finding out how it started, or even how the new members +are proselyted. Ask any member how he became a Supremist. He just looks +kind of dreamy and mutters something about the truth suddenly dawning +upon him one day." + +"But don't you have any theories?" + +"I've got a hunch," Pell said, picking up the lab report. + +Chief Larkin snorted softly. The snort said clearly enough that an +efficient investigator didn't depend on hunches these days: he went +after something doggedly on the computer, or by other approved +techniques. + +Pell pretended not to hear the snort. "First of all we discovered that +nearly all Supremists received some kind of an inoculation before they +became Supremists. Then we found a whole village, one of those moon +resort towns, that had gone over. There was the record of inoculation +there, too. I got hold of some of the vaccine and had the lab analyze +it. It's mostly vaccine all right, but there _is_ a foreign substance in +it. Listen." He read from the report: "_Isolated point oh six four seven +grams unclassified crystal compound, apparently form of nucleotide +enzyme. Further analysis necessary._" + +"You think this enzyme, or whatever it is, has something to do with it?" + +"I don't know. All I have is a pretty wild theory. To begin, when our +lab can't analyze something right away, it's pretty rare--possibly even +unknown to chemistry in general. Now it's just possible that this +substance does something to the brain that makes a man into a Supremist, +and that somebody's behind the whole thing, deliberately planting the +stuff so that people here and there become injected with it." + +"Pell." Larkin made a pained face. "Really." + +Pell shrugged. "Well, as I say, it's a hunch, that's all." + +"It's a pipe dream," said Larkin. "I never heard of anything so +fantastic." + +"That's what folks said a couple of centuries ago when the Venusians +were first trying to make contact and their ships were sighted all over +the place. 'I never heard of anything so fantastic,' they all said." + +Theodor Rysland still looked interested. "Granted there is some +connection between the Supremist mental state and this, er, enzyme. What +then, Mr. Pell?" + +"Well," said Pell, stretching his legs out, "I had an idea maybe your +friend Dr. Nebel could give us some help on that." + +"Nebel?" + +"He's interested in this thing, isn't he?" + +"Definitely. Nebel's a very public spirited man." + +"Well, I understand he's one of the top psychobiologists in the country +today. Seems to me this new enzyme, whatever it is, would be right up +his alley. Of course the lab should get to it eventually, but he might +do it a lot quicker." + +Larkin had been examining some statistical crime charts on the wall. He +turned from them. "Pell, does Kronski know about all these wild hunches +of yours?" + +"I haven't talked with him about them yet. He left today before the lab +report came in. Why?" + +"I was just wondering," said Larkin evenly, "whether I had two maniacs +in my organization or only one." + +Rysland, frowning, turned to the chief. "I wouldn't be hasty, Larkin," +he said. "Crazy as it sounds Pell may have something here." + +Larkin snorted again, and this time along with it he shook his head +sadly. + +"What's your next move then?" Rysland asked Pell. + +"Tomorrow morning, first thing," Pell said, "I'll take a sample of this +stuff to Dr. Nebel and see what he can do with it. Of course the lab can +keep on working on it in the meantime." + +"Don't you think you might do better to get busy on those computers?" +Larkin asked. + +Pell shook his head. "This hunch is too strong, Chief." + +Rysland smiled, and got up. "I'm inclined to put a little stock into +this man's hunches. He's done pretty well with them so far. I'd even say +he's pretty close to a solution of this thing--possibly." + +Larkin shrugged and started to look at the crime charts again. + +Rysland held out his hand. "Good night, Mr. Pell. You've encouraged me. +Larkin and I are going topside for a little night cap before we turn in. +Like to join us?" + +"No, thanks," said Pell. "I'm sleepy. I want to get home and hit that +sack." + +"Very well. Good night again." The two men went toward the door. + +Pell watched them quietly. He had lied. He wasn't sleepy at all. He just +wanted to get home and sit by that viewer and hope, hope against hope, +that it would ring and that Ciel's lovely image would swirl into +view.... + + * * * * * + +On the way home he was just the least bit tempted to go topside, +however. He thought he might like to walk the broad, quiet boulevards +under the stars. His brain functioned better there. The tunnels were so +clean and bright and sterile, so wonderfully functional and sensible, +that they oppressed him somehow. Maybe, he sometimes thought, he wasn't +fit for this age. Maybe he should have been born a couple of hundred +years ago. But common sense told him that people in _that_ age must have +often thought exactly the same thing to themselves. + +He looked at his chrono and decided he had better go home. + +The apartment, when he came to it, was cold and empty without Ciel. He +bathed and tried to keep up his spirits by singing in his tuneless way, +but it didn't help. + +He went back into the living room, selected a film from the library and +slipped it into a lap projector. He sat down and tried to concentrate on +the film, a historical adventure about the days of the first moon +rockets. He couldn't follow it. + +The viewer rang. + +He bounded from the chair as though he had triggered a high speed +ejection seat in a burning jet. He went to the viewer and flicked it on. +The plate shimmered, and then Ciel's image came into focus. + +"_Baby!_" He was certain his shout overmodulated every amp tube in the +entire World City viewer system. But he felt better, wonderfully better, +already. + +She was smiling. "Hello, Dick." + +"Hello." + +And then they looked at each other in affectionate embarrassment for a +moment. + +"One of us," said Pell, "ought to have his script writer along." + +"Dick, I don't know exactly how to say what I want to say...." + +"Don't. Don't say anything. Just pretend nothing ever happened. Just +come on home fast as you can." + +"No, Dick. Not yet. I still want to talk about--well, everything. Dick, +we've got to reach some sort of compromise. There _must_ be a way." + +"Come on home. We'll find a way." + +"Not home. Too many memories there. Besides," she smiled a little, "I +don't trust us alone together. You know what would happen. We wouldn't +get _any_ talking done. Not any sensible talking anyway. You'd better +meet me someplace." + +He sighed. "Okay. Where can I meet you?" + +"How about the Stardust Cafe?" + +"Again? That place didn't help us much the last time." + +"I know, but it's the handiest. I'm sure we can find a quiet place. Out +on the terrace or something." + +"Is there a terrace?" + +"Yes, I think so. I'm sure there must be." + +He looked at his chrono. "All right, baby. Half an hour?" + +"Half an hour." + +When she clicked off he felt his heart pounding. He felt dizzy. He felt +as though he had just taken a quart of meth at one jolt--intravenously. +He sang, more loudly and more off-key than ever. He went into the +bedroom and started to get dressed again. + +It wasn't until he was finishing the knot in his tie that the hunch hit +him. + + * * * * * + +It was funny about that hunch. He would have said it came out of +nowhere, and yet it must have broken from the bottom of his mind through +some kind of restraining layer into the conscious levels. He didn't +remember thinking anything that might have brought it on--his mind was +strictly on Ciel. Maybe that was how it came through, with the attention +of his conscious mind directed elsewhere. + +With the hunch he heard Ciel's voice again, heard it very clearly, +saying: "_I'm sure we can find a quiet place. Out on the terrace or +something._" And with that other things started to fall into place. + +As he thought, and as the possibilities of his hunch fanned out to +embrace other possibilities he became suddenly cold and sick inside. He +fought the feeling. "Got to go through with it," he muttered to himself. +"Got to." + +As soon as he was dressed he took the tunnel cars to Station D-90, +changing twice. People were aboard at this hour, returning from the +evening. Lots of men and women in uniform: the green of the +landfighters, the white of the seamen, the blue of the flyers, the +silver and black of the space force. Young people. Kids mostly: kids who +had never seen war, smelled death, heard the wounded scream. He hoped +they never would. But if his hunch was correct they might be dangerously +near to it right now. + +If only he had time to call Kronski. He'd feel a lot safer.... + +He shook himself. Have to stop thinking about it. Proceed cautiously +now, and take each thing as it came. That was the only thing to do. + +He went topside and stepped from the elevator kiosk into the night air. +Ahead he saw the bright globular sign of the Stardust Cafe. But he +didn't go toward it right away. He turned in the other direction, walked +swiftly, and kept a sharp eye on the shadows. He turned off on a side +street, circled a small park, and then crossed a sloping lawn toward the +back of the night club. He headed for the light of the service entrance. + +A half-credit bill got him inside through the back entrance. He found +the door with the temporary sign saying: Marco the Mentalist. He +knocked. + +Marco the Mentalist opened the door. He didn't look quite as tall +face-to-face as he did out on the floor, nor quite as impressive. His +face was still dark and faintly saturnine, but the jowls seemed a little +puffier now, there was a faint network of capillaries around his +nostrils and his eyes looked just the least bit weary and tired. In a +pleasant enough voice he said, "Yes?" + +Pell showed his C.I.B. identification. + +Marco raised his eyebrows a little and said, "Come inside, please." +Inside he found a chair for Pell. He sat across from him at his dressing +table, half-turned toward the room. "I must get ready for my show in a +little while. You understand that, of course." + +Pell nodded. "What's on my mind won't take long. First of all, I want to +ask a few questions about hypnotism. They may seem silly to you, or +maybe a little elementary, but I'd like you to answer 'em just the +same." + +Marco's eyebrows went a little bit higher and he said, "Proceed." + +"Okay. Question number one: can anybody be hypnotized against his will?" + +"Some can, some can't." Marco smiled. "The average person, under average +circumstances--no. I appear in my act to hypnotize people against their +wills. Actually, subconsciously, they _wish_ to be hypnotized, which is +why they volunteer to let me try in the first place." + +"Okay, number two. Is there any drug that can hypnotize a person?" + +Marco frowned. "Pentothal and several things _appear_ to do that. You +could argue it either way, whether the subject is actually hypnotized or +not. I believe post-hypnotic commands have been given to subjects under +sodium pentothol and carried out, even back in the dark ages of +psychiatry several hundred years ago." + +"I've got one more really important question," Pell said then. "I'd +understood that somebody under hypnosis won't do anything against his +moral or ethical sense. An honest man, for instance, can't be forced to +steal. Is that true?" + +Marco laughed and gestured with his graceful fingers. "I don't think it +is true. It was once believed to be, because hypnotic technique was not +strong enough. That is, the subject's hypnosis was not strong enough to +overcome a strong moral sense, which is actually a surface veneer on a +deeper, more brutal nature. But I think with deep enough hypnosis, and +the right kind of command, you can get a person to do most anything in +post-hypnotic behavior--and of course not know why he _must_ do it, even +knowing it's wrong. Do you follow me?" + +"I hope I do." Then Pell leaned forward. "And now I have a very great +favor to ask of you." + +"Yes?" + +"I want you to put on a little special private performance for me, right +here and now." + +"I'm afraid I don't understand." + +"You will, in about sixty seconds. Just listen carefully...." + + + + +Chapter V + + +He was late for his date with Ciel, of course. He glanced at his chrono +as he entered the Stardust Cafe by the front door and saw that he was +twenty minutes late. However, this time he was certain Ciel wouldn't +complain too vigorously. + +Again the askarins were playing, and once more the green-skinned +Venusian girls were doing their writhing, spasmodic, aphrodisiacal +dance. It was remarkable how they could achieve such an effect of utter +abandon and yet keep their faces blank and frozen. He looked around the +rest of the room swiftly. Not so crowded tonight, and people were +generally quieter. There were no oversexed spacemen clawing after the +dancers on the floor. + +Ciel was again in a rear booth, in the same corner of the room she had +chosen before. She had spotted him now; she was looking his way. She +lifted a white-gloved hand and waved. + +He smiled and headed for her. He forced his smile, and made himself +forget the prickling of his wrists and the feeling of bristling fur +along his spine. And he held his smile all the way across the room. +_Why, hello, darling, fancy seeing you here; no, nothing's wrong, +nothing at all, why on earth would you think anything was wrong?_ + +"Hi, baby," was all he actually said. + +"I'm--I'm glad you're here, Dick." Her eyes didn't show much. They roved +over his face a little too much perhaps, but otherwise they seemed +simply as large and dark as ever. He noticed that the meth glass in +front of her was empty. + +Grinning, he sat down. "This is a big moment. This is almost too much +for me to handle. Maybe that's what I need--a good slug of meth." + +"No." + +"No?" + +"Let's not waste time. Let's go out on the terrace. I want you to kiss +me." + +"Best offer I've had all evening." He rose again. "Where's the terrace?" + +"Through that door. There's a dining room there that's closed at night. +You go through the dining room and out to the terrace." + +"Okay." + +He took her arm and led her in and out of tables, across the room. They +moved swiftly through the quiet, nearly dark dining room, and after that +through a pair of window-doors. They were on the terrace then, a +flagstoned space with a low wall. It overlooked the scattered lights of +World City's topside area and some distance beyond they could see the +river, a blue-silver ribbon in the moonlight. + +They stopped at the wall. She turned toward him. He looked down at her, +at her pale face and deep, dark eyes. He smelled her perfume and he felt +her live warmth near him and coming nearer. He saw her eyes close, her +lips part just slightly, and each lip glistening, faintly moist.... + +He was wondering when it would happen. He was wondering when he would be +struck. + +As he wondered that he suddenly discovered he wasn't on the terrace any +more. + + * * * * * + +He looked about him in some surprise. It was nearly dark. He was in a +room; he could sense the walls about him. He heard a curious, +high-pitched metallic voice--and recognized it. + +"_Pell? Are you awake now?_" + +It had happened then, just as he had expected. Someone had thrown a +freezer on him there in the patio, and during his complete +unconsciousness he'd been taken here, wherever this was. He sighed. The +least they could have done would have been to let him finish kissing +Ciel. + +As calmly as he could he said to the four blank walls, "I'm awake." + +Soft glowlights came on gradually and he saw that the room about him was +fairly small--twenty by fifteen, roughly--and very plain. It contained a +bed and a few odd pieces of furniture, all apparently of good quality. +There was a door in one wall. He tried the door. Locked. He went back to +the middle of the room. + +"Chief," he said to the blank walls, "what's this all about? Is it some +kind of a joke?" + +The metallic voice chuckled. It belonged to Eustace J. Larkin, Chief, +Central Investigation Bureau, and even filtered like this it was +somewhat prim and precise. "No, Dick, it's not a joke, I'm afraid. I'm +surprised you haven't guessed what it's all about. Or at least had one +of your brilliant hunches." There was sarcasm in this last. + +"Where's Ciel?" Pell asked. + +"Right here with me. In the next room. Here--listen." + +Ciel's voice said, "Don't worry, darling, we'll explain everything. And +when it's all over it will be for the best. You'll see that it will." + +"All right, everybody," said Pell, half-belligerently, "what's the big +idea?" + +"Big idea is right," Larkin's voice came back. "The biggest that ever +hit the human race. And as Ciel says we'll explain it all in a moment. +But first I'd like your word that you won't be foolish and make any kind +of a struggle. If you'll promise that you can come in the other room +here and we can all talk face to face." + +Pell frowned. "I don't know--I'm not so sure I can honestly promise +that." + +"Suit yourself, then. A few minutes from now it won't make any +difference anyway." + +"Will you stop being so damned mysterious and tell me what it's all +about?" + +Larkin's voice laughed. "Very well. I haven't had much chance to tell +about it, frankly. And I think you'll agree we've rather neatly kept our +parts under cover--until you got dangerously close to the answer, +anyway." + +"Until I got close?" + +"Certainly. Doc Wilcox's office on the moon was perhaps our one weakness +in the whole set-up. How you managed to stumble on to that, I'll never +know--your luck must have been with you." + +"It wasn't luck, Larkin, it was a hunch." + +"Still believe in hunches, eh? Well, we won't argue the point. At any +rate you wouldn't have found the enzyme any place else but there." + +"Oh, so the enzyme does have something to do with it." + +"Everything. Here--suppose I let Doctor Nebel explain it to you. He +developed it, after all." + +Pell lifted his eyebrows in surprise and Dr. Walter Nebel's sibilant +voice came through the hidden speakers. "I think you should know how it +works, Mr. Pell. You may know that a certain part of the brain called +Rossi's area is, to put it figuratively, the hypnotic center. The +cut-off of the adrenal cortex, so to speak. In ordinary hypnosis the +function of that area is dulled by overexercising the motor senses. By +that method the intensity of hypnosis is widely variable and never +really one hundred per cent effective. My compound, however, brings +about complete and absolute cut-off. Any post-hypnotic suggestion given +under those circumstances takes permanently and deeply. It can only be +removed by further post-hypnosis under the same treatment, negating the +original command." + +Pell stared at the blank walls. "Go on," he said in a soft, tense voice. +"What's the rest?" + +Larkin spoke again. "Suppose we briefly examine a little history as a +kind of introduction to this matter. The human race, since the beginning +of recorded time, has failed to achieve real peace and stability, right? +Every time there has been a chance for cooperative effort--for total +agreement--certain selfish interests have spoiled it. There have been +times, however, when certain groups--states or combinations of +states--came close to permanent peace and prosperity. The Napoleonic era +was one. Hitler two hundred years ago almost brought it about. The only +reason they failed was that they didn't achieve their goal--_complete_ +conquest." + +_Did Pell hear correctly? Was there a faint simmering of madness in that +metallic voice now?_ In the words there was madness, surely.... + + * * * * * + +It went on: "The fact is, Pell, people simply don't know what's good for +them. Look at the blunderers and even downright crooks who are elected +to World Government. Never the best brains, never the best talents. When +a really able man gets into a position of leadership it's an accident--a +fluke." + +"I still don't see what all this has got to do with it," said Pell. + +There was a shrug in the metallic voice. "For once the ablest men are +going to take over. There are a number of us. You know already about +myself and Doctor Nebel. Rysland will be with us, too, as soon as we can +get him conditioned." + +"By conditioned, you mean this enzyme of yours?" + +"Exactly. We started out in a small way, using force or trickery where +necessary, and managed to condition a number of doctors and nurses. +Conditioning simply means injecting Nebel's compound and then giving the +post-hypnotic command to be unquestioningly loyal to the Supremists. We +created the Supremists, of course. In order for us to take over it will +be necessary to have another war, and to conquer Venus. That can be done +if Earth strikes quickly. Within the next few days I think there'll be +enough Supremist influence to get this war started." + +Pell stared back, open-mouthed. To hear it coldly and calmly like this +was shock, cold-water shock. "Let me get this straight now. Your group +made Supremists of doctors and nurses and they in turn made new members +by installing this hypnosis stuff whenever anybody came for a hypodermic +injection of any kind, is that it?" + +"That's it." + +"But how does this stuff work? Does it knock you out, or what?" + +"You'll be finding that out at first hand very shortly." + +Pell stiffened, made fists and unconsciously lifted them and looked +around him, warily. + +Larkin laughed. "It won't do you much good to put up a fight. I'm +sending a couple of my assistants in there. They specialize in people +who want to make a struggle. And there's no reason to feel unhappy about +it, Pell: once you're conditioned you'll simply be unable to do anything +against the Supremist cause. You'll be happier, in fact, having such a +cause. Ask your wife if that isn't so." + +Pell trembled with anger. "How did you get to her? How did you make her +do what she did?" + +"You mean luring you into our little trap on the terrace, so to speak? +You mustn't blame Ciel for that. She couldn't help herself; she had to +obey, after all. You see she was conditioned in Augea on the moon by Dr. +Wilcox, one of our very loyal men. He simply dropped in when you were at +the Post Office, pretended that Ciel needed a routine injection and she, +not at all suspicious, allowed him to do it. He gave her the command of +loyalty, and also cautioned her not to say anything about it. So you +see, Ciel's been one of us for several days. It was just a little +precaution of mine, in case you should become troublesome. I had to +assign somebody to the investigation, of course, because Rysland and his +crowd would have been too suspicious if I hadn't complied with their +request." + +"You're stark crazy, Larkin! You ought to be in a mental hospital!" + +"You'll be over that idea in a minute or so. Meanwhile, we're wasting +time. I'm sending the boys in now. You'll make it easier for yourself if +you submit without giving them any trouble." + +The door opened, then. Pell caught a quick glimpse of the other room and +saw that it was a tastefully furnished living room. He recognized it, +and knew where he was. This was a country house of Larkin's, topside, +not far from the outskirts of World City. Whoever turned the freezer on +him must have set the control at high intensity because it would take at +least an hour to get to this place from the Stardust Cafe and he had +been unconscious at least that long. + +He had the momentary impulse to rush that partly opened door--and then +the boys, as Larkin had called them, appeared. + + * * * * * + +They were specialists, little doubt of that. They regarded Pell with +flat, almost disinterested looks as the door closed behind them. One +held a hypodermic needle. He was the shorter of the two, but he had +shoulders like ox-yokes. His face had been kneaded in the prize ring, +and his bare arms were muscular and hairy but the top of his head was +bald. The other had red hair, close-cropped. He was big and +well-proportioned; Pell might have taken him for a professional football +player. + +Red did the talking. He spoke quietly, almost pleasantly. "Gonna +cooperate?" he asked Pell. + +Pell said, "You touch me, brother, and I'll make your face look like +Baldy's." + +Red glanced at Baldy and seemed to sigh. Abruptly he whirled, jumped at +Pell and brought a sizzling right hand punch through the air. Pell +ducked it. He saw Baldy move in as he did so, and a painful blow struck +the back of his neck. His teeth rattled when it struck. Something caught +him under the chin, straightened him. When he was straight a pile driver +struck him in the midsection. + +It was all over within a matter of seconds. Under different +circumstances Pell might have found time to admire their technique. + +As it was, he was now face down on the floor and Red was straddling him, +holding him there. The pain in his stomach made him gasp. His face and +the back of his neck ached terribly. + +Red had his arm in the small of his back. Pell tried to struggle. + +"I can break the arm if you move," said Red cheerfully. + +And then Pell felt the bite of the needle just below his shoulder. + +A misty feeling came. He felt as though he were in a red whirlpool, +spinning, going down--down.... He fought to rise. He could still hear. +He could hear footsteps and the slam of the door when somebody else came +into the room. And then he seemed abruptly to be detached from his own +body and floating in a huge gray void.... + +Words hammered at his brain. Larkin's voice, at his ear now and no +longer metallic. "_You will be loyal to the Supremist cause. You will do +nothing against the Supremist doctrine. You will believe that Earthmen +are meant to rule the Universe--_" + +He felt an overpowering impulse to nod, to agree, to believe that it was +right to do this. He fought this impulse, straining his mind and his +very being until it seemed that something might burst with the effort. + +"_You will work for the cause; you will give your life for it if +necessary._" + +Yes, perhaps it was better to succumb. The words were too strong. He +couldn't fight them. Larkin was right, Earthmen were supreme, and they +were destined to rule.... + +Somewhere in the depths a tiny spot of resistance still glowed. He tried +desperately to evoke it. It seemed then that it became brighter. He +_could_ resist--he _would_.... He kept thinking over and over again: +"_No, no, no!_" + +Larkin's voice said, "Carry him in the other room. He'll come to in a +moment." + + * * * * * + +He came to slowly, and he saw that he was lying on a couch and that +several people were gathered around him smiling down at him. Something +detached itself from the group, knelt by his side. He blinked. It was +Ciel. Her golden hair shone and her dark eyes searched his face and she +was smiling. "Hello, darling," she said. + +"Hello, Ciel." He kissed her, and then sat up on the couch and looked +around. + +Larkin and Dr. Nebel were standing together, and Red and Baldy were a +few steps behind them, still looking indifferent. + +"Now you're one of us, Dick," said Larkin, flashing his professional +smile, dimples and everything. Pell rose. Nebel held his hands behind +his back and beamed, blinking his heavy reptilian eyelids and Larkin +stepped forward and held out his hand. + +"Yes," said Pell, shaking the hand, "I guess we're all working for the +same thing now. What do you want me to do?" + +Larkin laughed. "Nothing right away. We'll give you instructions when +the time comes. I think you might as well go home with Ciel now; I have +a copter and a chauffeur outside that'll take you to the station near +your apartment." + +"Okay, Chief, whatever you say." He smiled and took Ciel's arm. He +started toward the door. Then he stopped, patted his chest and said, +"Oh--my freezer. I guess the boys took it away...." + +Larkin turned to Baldy. "Give him his weapon." + +Baldy took the freezer from his pocket and casually tossed it to Pell. + +A sudden change came over Pell, then. His smile disappeared. He stepped +quickly away from Ciel, whirled and faced all of them. He pointed the +freezer. "All right, everybody stay perfectly still--you, too, Ciel. +This is where we break up your little Supremist nightmare." + +Larkin stared in utter amazement. Nebel's turtle lids opened wide. Ciel +brought her hand to her throat. + +Red's hand blurred suddenly, going for his own weapon. Pell squeezed the +trigger, the violet sparks danced for an instant, and then Red stood +frozen with his hand almost to his chest. + +"I'd advise nobody else to try that," said Pell, and then in an ironical +tone to Larkin: "C.I.B. agents are trained to be pretty quick with a +freezer, right, Chief?" + +Larkin seemed to find his voice now. "But--how--what happened? You were +injected. How can you...." + +"I just took a little precaution, that's all," said Pell. "There'll be +plenty of time to explain it all later. You'll probably hear the whole +thing in court, Larkin, when I testify at your trial for treason. +Meanwhile, all of you just stay nice and calm while I use the viewer." + +He stepped to the viewer and dialed with his free hand. The plate +glowed, shimmered and a moment later the pale, grave face of Theodor +Rysland came into view. His eyebrows rose as he saw the weapon in Pell's +hand and glimpsed the people beyond Pell. "Hello--what's this all +about?" + +"Haven't time to explain fully now," said Pell, "but I want you to get +to Larkin's country house as soon as you can. I'll call agent Kronski in +a moment and have him bring some others, and together we'll take Larkin +and Nebel into custody. They're behind the Supremist movement--a +deliberate attempt to take over the government. They did it with a drug; +that's how Supremist's are made." + +"What's this? A drug?" + +"Think about it later," said Pell. "Just grab the facts right now. The +drug makes a person subject to post-hypnotic commands--that's why your +Supremists are blindly, unthinkingly loyal. However, the command can be +erased by a second treatment. That'll be tough and take a lot of +ferreting out, but it won't be impossible." He glanced at Ciel, and saw +that she was staring at him with horror--with enmity. It sickened him, +but he steadied himself with the realization that Ciel would be one of +the first to be re-treated. + + * * * * * + +Several minutes later he had completed his calls. Rysland, Kronski and +the others were on the way. He kept the freezer pointed, and watched his +captives carefully. Ciel had gone over to the couch and was sitting +there, her face in her hands, weeping softly. + +"I don't know how you did it," said Larkin. "I don't understand it. The +injection should have worked. It always did before." + +"Well, it almost worked," said Pell. "I must admit I had quite a time +fighting off your commands. But, you see, I knew you'd gotten to Ciel +somehow when she called me up to make the date this evening. She spoke +of going out to the terrace at the Stardust Cafe. It was a little odd +that she should speak of the terrace like that, out of a clear sky--and +I wondered why it should be on her mind. Then it struck me that neither +of us had ever noticed a terrace there, and Ciel must have some special +reason for knowing about it. + +"She did, of course--she'd been instructed to get me out there where +your boys could slap a freezer on me. So I started guessing with that +hunch to work on. Everything more or less fell into place after that. It +was pretty certain that they'd try to make a loyal Supremist out of me, +too, and that's when I took that little precaution I mentioned to you." + +"What precaution?" + +Pell smiled. "I had Marco the mentalist hypnotize me and give me a +rather special post-hypnotic command. He ordered me not to believe any +_subsequent_ post-hypnotic commands. That's why your conditioning didn't +work on me." + +Larkin could find no words; he just stared. + +"Think about it, Larkin," said Pell. "Think hard. Maybe you'd convinced +yourself you were doing good, but your purpose was still tyranny. And +like any tyranny it contained the means of its own destruction. It +always works out that way, Larkin--maybe it's a law, or something." + +It had been a long speech for Pell, practically an oration. He was, +after all, a cop, not a philosopher. Just a guy trying to get along. +Just an ordinary citizen whose name was legion, looking at his wife now +and waiting with what patience he could find for the time when she would +be cleared of the poisonous doctrine that any one race or group or even +species was supreme. + +He was thinking, too, that the trial would keep him busy as the very +devil and that they _still_ wouldn't get to that vacation and second +honeymoon for a long time.... + +That, considering everything, was not too much to put up with. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Brink of Madness, by Walter J. 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