Supermind, page 3
His voice stopped. His laughter trickled away. Silence.
In all his alert years, Leigh had never felt more indecisive.
His emotions said—now; surely, she'd call now. And even if she didn't, he must act on his own. Rush in! Shoot!
But his mind was cold with an awful dread. There was something about the man's voice, a surging power. Abnormal, savage strength was here. Could this really be a spaceship from the stars? His brain wouldn't follow that terrible thought. He crouched, fingering the gun she had given him, dimly conscious that it felt queer, unlike any revolver he had ever had.
The silence from the spaceship control room continued. It was the same curious silence that had followed the girl's entrance short minutes before. Only this time it was the girl who broke it, her voice faintly breathless but withal cool, vibrant, unafraid, "I'm here to warn, not to force issues. And unless you're charged with the life energy of fifteen men, I wouldn't advise you to try anything. After all, I came here knowing what you were."
"What do you think, Merla? Can we be sure she's a Klugg? Could she possibly be of the higher Lennel type?" It was the man, his tone conceding her point, but the derision was still there, the implacable purpose, the high, tremendous confidence. "There must be a few of these, also, on a Third Stage planet, well hidden, of course, and not associating with the Galactic Observer." Coldly. "Our experience has been that such other types leave us alone."
And yet, in spite of that sense of imminent violence, Leigh felt himself torn from the thought of danger. His reporter's brain twisted irresistibly to the fantastic meaning of what was taking place:
—Life energy of fifteen men—
It was all there. In a monstrous way, it all fitted. The two dead bodies he had seen drained of blood and life energy, the repeated reference to a Galactic Observer, with whom the girl was connected. He grew aware that the woman was speaking.
"Klugg!" she said positively. "Pay no attention to her protestations, Jeel. You know I'm sensitive when it comes to women. She's lying. She's just a little fool who walked in here expecting us to be frightened of her. Destroy her at your pleasure."
"I'm not given to waiting," said the man. "So—"
There was no delaying now. Leigh leaped for the open doorway. He had a flashing glimpse of a man and woman, dressed in evening clothes, the man standing, the woman seated. He was aware of a gleaming, metallic background. The control board, part of which he had already seen, was now revealed as a massive thing of glowing instruments; and then all that was blotted out as he snapped:
"That will do. Put up your hands."
For a moment he had the impression that his entry was a surprise, and that he dominated the situation. None of the three people in the room was turned toward him. The man, Jeel, and the girl were standing facing each other. The woman, Merla, sat in a deep chair, her fine profile to him, her golden head flung back. It was she who, still without looking at him, spoke the words that ended his brief conviction of triumph. She said to the disguised girl:
"You certainly travel in low company, a stupid human being. Tell him to go away before he's damaged."
The girl said, "Leigh, I'm sorry I brought you into this. Every move you made in entering was heard, observed, and dismissed before you could even adjust your mind to the scene."
"Is his name Leigh?" said the woman sharply. "I thought I recognized him as he entered. He's very like his photograph over his newspaper column." Her voice grew strangely tense: "Jeel, a newspaper reporter!"
"We don't need him now," the man said. "We know who the Galactic Observer is."
"Eh?" said Leigh. His mind fastened hard on those amazing words. "Who? How did you find out? What—"
"The information," said the woman, and it struck him suddenly that the strange quality in her voice was eagerness, "will be of no use to you. Regardless of what happens to the girl, you're staying."
She glanced swiftly at the man, as if seeking his sanction. "Remember, Jeel, you promised."
It seemed so meaningless that Leigh had no sense of personal danger. His mind scarcely more than passed the words. His eyes concentrated tautly on a reality that had, until that moment, escaped his awareness. He said softly, "Just now you used the phrase, 'Regardless of what happens to the girl.' When I came in, you said, 'Tell him to go away before he's damaged.'" Leigh smiled grimly, "I need hardly say this is a far cry from the threat of immediate death that hung over us a few seconds ago. And I have just now noticed the reason.
"A little while ago, I heard our pal, Jeel, dare my little girl friend here to raise her gun. I notice now that she has it raised. My entrance did have an effect." He addressed himself to the girl, "Shall we shoot—or withdraw?"
It was the man who answered. "I would advise withdrawal. I could still win, but I am not the heroic type who takes the risk of what might well be a close call." He added, in an aside to the woman: "Merla, we can always catch this man Leigh now that we know who he is."
The girl said, "You first, Mr. Leigh." And Leigh did not stop to argue.
Metal doors clanged behind him as he charged along the runnel. After a moment, he was aware of the girl running lightly beside him.
The strangely unreal, the unbelievably murderous little drama was over, finished as fantastically as it had begun.
IV
Outside Constantine's a gray light gathered around them. It was a twilight side street, and people hurried past them with the strange, anxious look of the late for supper. Night was falling. Leigh stared at his companion. In the dimness of the deep dusk, she seemed all boy, slightly, lithely built, striding along boldly. He laughed a little, huskily, then more grimly.
"Just what was all that?" he said. "Did we escape by the skin of our teeth? Or did we win? What made you think you could act like God, and give those tough eggs twelve hours to get out of the solar system?"
The girl was silent after he had spoken. She walked just ahead of him, head bent into the gloom. Abruptly, she turned. She said, "I hope you will have enough sense to refrain from telling what you've just seen and heard."
Leigh said, "This is the biggest story since—"
The girl's voice was pitying. "You're not going to print a word of it because in about ten seconds you'll see that no one in the world would believe any of it."
In the darkness, Leigh smiled tightly. "The mechanical psychologist will verify every syllable."
"I came prepared for that, too!" said the vibrant voice. Her hand swung up toward his face. Too late, he jerked back.
Light flared in his eyes, a dazzling, blinding force that exploded into his sensitive optic nerves with all the agonizing power of intolerable brightness. Leigh cursed aloud, wildly, and snatched at his tormentor. His right hand grazed a shoulder. He lashed out violently with his left, and tantalizingly caught only the edge of a sleeve that instantly jerked away.
"You little devil!" he raged. "You've blinded me."
"You'll be all right," came the cool answer. "But you'll find that the mechanical psychologist will analyze anything you say as pure imagination. In view of your threat to publish, I had to do that. Now, give me my gun."
The first glimmer of sight was returning. Leigh could see her body, a dim shape in the night. In spite of the continuing pain, he smiled grimly. His voice was soft as he said, "I've just now remembered you said this gun didn't shoot bullets. Even the feel of it suggests that it'll make an interesting proof of anything I say. So—"
His smile faded abruptly. For the girl stepped forward. The metal that jabbed into his ribs was so hardly thrust it made him grunt.
"Give me that gun!"
"Like fun I will," Leigh snapped. "You ungrateful little ruffian, how dare you treat me so shoddily after I saved your life? I ought to knock you one right on the jaw."
He stopped. With staggering suddenness the hard realization struck that she meant it. This was no girl raised in a refined school, who wouldn't dare to shoot, but a cold-blooded young creature who had already proved her determination against a deadlier opponent than he himself.
He had never had any notions about the superiority of man over woman, and he felt none now. Hastily, he handed the weapon over. The girl took it, and said coldly, "You seem to be laboring under the illusion that your entry into the spaceship enabled me to raise my weapon. You're quite mistaken. What you did do was to provide me with the opportunity to let them think that that was the situation, and that they dominated it. But I assure you, that is the extent of your assistance. It was almost valueless."
Leigh laughed out loud, a pitying, ridiculing laugh.
"In my admittedly short life," he said, "I've learned to recognize a quality of personality and magnetism in human beings. You've got it, a lot of it, but not a fraction of what either of those two had, particularly the man. He was terrible. He was the most abnormally magnetic human being I've ever run across. Lady, I can only guess what all this is about, but I'd advise you"—Leigh paused, then finished slashingly—"you and all the other Kluggs to stay away from that couple. Personally, I'm going to get the police in on this, and there's going to be a raid on Private Three. I didn't like that odd threat that they could capture me at any time. Why me?"
He broke off hastily, "Hey, where are you going? I want to know your name. I want to know what made you think you could order those two around. Who did you think you were?"
He said no more. His whole attention was concentrated on running. He could see her for a moment, a hazy, boyish figure against a dim corner light. Then she was around the corner. Leigh thought: "She's my only point of contact with all this. If she gets away—"
Sweating, he rounded the corner; and at first the street seemed dark and empty of life. Then he saw the car. A normal-looking, high-hooded coupe, long, low-built, that began to move forward noiselessly and quite naturally. It became unnatural. It lifted. Amazingly, it lifted from the ground. He had a swift glimpse of white rubber wheels folding out of sight. Streamlined, almost cigar-shaped now, the spaceship that had been a car darted at a steep angle into the sky.
Swiftly, it was gone.
Above Leigh the gathering night towered, a strange, bright blue. In spite of the brilliant lights of the city glaring into the sky, one or two stars showed. He stared up at them, empty inside, thinking: "It's like a dream. Those—Dreeghs—coming out of space—bloodsuckers, vampires."
Suddenly hungry, he bought a chocolate bar from a sidewalk stand and stood munching it. He began to feel better. He walked over to a near-by wall socket, and plugged in his wrist radio.
"Jim," he said, "I've got some stuff I need help on; not for publication yet, but I'd like to talk to one of those science teams where all the disciplines are represented. Think you could get the office to authorize the expense?"
"This is related to the vampire story?"
"Yes."
"In the past we've used a Research Alpha team. Why don't you head over there; and I'll get the authorization for you while you're en route,"
"Good."
His tone was brisk. His sense of inadequacy waned. Reporter Leigh was himself again.
V
Even optimum detector equipment has its limitations. The Dreegh version pointed accurately toward William Leigh. Its fix on him was unshakably steady.
But it was like a compass. True, a compass needle indicates the direction of the magnetic north pole. But it says nothing about what that pole is doing, or what else is there, or who is talking to whom on the surface, or if there are buildings nearby.
For that—to determine what the reporter was doing—they had to sneak up into the night sky, and watch as the indicator system presently pointed straight down at a complex of glass and steel buildings, which identified themselves with a sign in lights:
RESEARCH ALPHA
Scientific Studies
Jeel, naturally, tried to ride a spy ray down on the pointer's fix; but it was bounced back at him by a crude screen. Crude in the sense that the energies involved primarily distorted the incoming wave; and what came back was gibberish. Which was crude all right, but good enough.
Jeel said irritably, "Looks like he's gone for expert advice. So rather than go in and tangle with that field, we'll wait until he comes out, and follow him home."
The woman said nothing. She recognized that this low-level culture nevertheless had atomic energy, and vast, established bases of energy, which a single spaceship, despite its superior equipment, simply did not confront directly.
So she waited with her companion, patiently.
". . . William Leigh," said the report on Hammond's desk, "currently reporter for Planetarian Service, was born 28 years ago in middle western North America to Cynthia Coster Leesoff and Jan Leesoff, respectively teacher and farmer. Family legally changed name to Leigh when young William was seven. Was poor student in lower schools, fair student in high school, and made it through college, receiving his B.A. from Western State of Agua with an average of B+.
"After graduation began journalistic career as a reporter with International News Survey Syndicate. Had average career until, at age 25, was seriously injured in the India riots of '57. Hospitalized, expected to die, he made an almost miraculous recovery. At which time he began a more dynamic career, indicating that the body-mind was unusually overstimulated by the accident.
"His I.Q. in college tests was never higher than 123—which is surely a minimum requirement for college as well as for journalism as a profession. Though no subsequent tests were made, we may conjecture from his career since then—so much more dynamic and intelligent—that he now has an I.Q. of at least 135 or 140—"
Hammond, a calm-faced, handsome man of about forty, thoughtfully studied the photograph of William Leigh that was attached to the report. Finally, he glanced up at Helen Wendell. "Unusually good-looking man," he said. "Anything on his female associations?"
"He was engaged to be married at the time of his accident," the woman replied. "After coming out of the hospital, broke that engagement, and has had a number of casual associations since then. Would you like to hear the tape of his meeting with our science team?"
The Executive Director and First Vice President of Research Alpha shook his head. "Summarize it for me."
The woman, who looked about thirty, said, "I brought this matter to your personal attention because Leigh made what you and I are in a position to know is an accurate analysis of the vampires as being from space, and of Professor Ungarn and his daughter as also being extraterrestrials. Our earth scientists team naturally listened to his account sceptically and suggested that one of our own sealed psychology machines be sent over to his hotel room. This is being done, and the machine will do its work on him tonight while he sleeps."
"Do you think it will verify his story?"
"I doubt it. I think the girl—Patricia Ungarn—successfully erased the evidence."
After a brief silence, the woman went on, "Do you think I should call one of the warden ships to come to the solar system?"
Hammond shook his head. "The reason I was silent a moment ago is because I was considering what I should and should not reveal to you. I'm a little startled to realize how much time has gone by since Sloane spoke to me about this matter—back in '57." Sloane was president of Research Alpha. "He had had a communication that a basic solution would occur in three years."
Helen's eyes widened. "Are you using basic in a precise sense?"
Hammond nodded, but said nothing.
"Oh, my God!" said the woman, awed. "Then this reporter—William Leigh—has intruded where he is utterly unqualified."
That brought a faint smile. "Well, my dear, when you put it like that, I can only say, 'Who here on earth is qualified?'"
"I suppose you're right."
"We'll have to be extra careful," said the man. "Those Dreeghs are, on one level, no smarter than some of the extraterrestrials—like ourselves, for example—who have been here quite a while. But they are the only immortals in the known universe in the below-1000 I.Q. level. That makes them sharper, in the sense that they have had so incredibly much experience." His smile broadened. "So I've already had two calls requesting sanctuary, believe it or not. It looks like we'll have the interstellar community living behind the screens here at Alpha until that basic solution is achieved."
"No attempt to influence?"
"None."
"What about the human beings William Leigh contacted in the organization?"
"Get me a list."
The list was presently laid on his desk. It consisted of three names: Dr. Henry Gloge, Barbara Ellington, and Vince Strather. "Hmm," said Hammond, "Gloge, eh. Who are the others?"
