Roysland shook his head. "I didn't expect that," he said. "I honestly
didn't expect that."
"I know you didn't," Eckisster said softly. "I know you didn't. But
look at it this way: It's data. And we need data."
"I know," Roysland said. "It's not that. Excuse me; I've got to
think." He slammed his hand down, and the whole group collapsed into
nothingness.
* * * * *
"_What?_" asked Commander Allerdyce.
"I said," Roysland repeated, "that I think I have the answer to
something that was brought up in the meeting last night. And I want
you to give me permission to take the X-69 into enemy territory."
"I will," Allerdyce said, "if you'll give me a good reason for going."
"All I want is a sample of alien animal life. I think I know what's
going on, but I'm not sure."
Allerdyce shook his head. "We can't do it. We don't know where the
enemy bases are, any more than the Enlissa know where our own planets
are. We keep our subetheric devices shielded, and so do they. If we
didn't, this would have ceased to be a spatial war long ago--you know
that."
"I know," Roysland admitted; "but we have prisoners; members of the
enemy's armed forces. We can get our information from them."
Allerdyce was still shaking his head. "How? They've been treated
mentally against probing. They won't tell us where their home planets
are, any more than our own men would--or _could_--tell them."
Roysland, in turn, shook his head. "That's not what I'm looking for.
I'm not a military man; I'm a scientist--at least I think I am. I'm not
looking for military bases; I'm looking for a planet where the Enlissa
have planted their flora and fauna. That's what we do with a planet,
isn't it? Seed it long before we colonize. If they've done as much
colonization as we have--and their war potential shows that they must
have--then they'll have a lot of planets that aren't inhabited by the
Enlissa themselves, but will have been seeded by Enlissa-type life.
"At least one of the crewmen from that ship will know where such a
planet is located. And I'm willing to bet that he won't be conditioned
against telling us."
"Why not?" Allerdyce asked.
"For the same reason you haven't thought of it," Roysland said,
grinning. "The Colonization Service and the Fleet Command are two
different branches. Unless the aliens think differently than we do,
their organization is about the same. And every bit of evidence shows
that their reasoning is similar.
"There's no reason to protect an unpopulated planet, is there? Besides,
the military don't inspect colonization records. Why should they? And
what would it matter if the enemy took over an unpopulated planet?
After all, we have as much chance of taking over one of theirs."
Allerdyce thought it over before answering. Finally, he said: "I'll
check with Bilford. If he thinks we can get that much information out
of an alien, I'll O.K. the trip. I'll have to insist, of course, that
the X-69 be fully armed and subject to military orders."
"Naturally," Roysland agreed. "Just let me make the trip; that's all."
"I'll see what I can do," said Allerdyce. "Meanwhile, I'm going to call
Colonization Service."
Roysland smiled to himself as he cut the connection.
* * * * *
Three days after that, the X-69 lifted again for space. On board her,
locked securely in the brig, was the first officer of the captured
Enlissa vessel.
No one had yet determined the nature of the Enlissa language, but
Bilford had worked out a method of getting yes-no answers out of him,
and had, by the process of elimination, arrived at a star system
that contained a planet which had been seeded by the aliens. And all
Roysland wanted was a sample of the Enlissa animals.
There's an old saying which goes: "Some people have all the luck." It
has echoed down the corridors of human history and human thought for a
thousand centuries, in one form or another. It is usually assumed to
be the complaint of the unsuccessful against those whose success is
greater--but it is to be noted that it is not specified whether the
luck is good or bad.
With the same reservations, one might assume that Roysland Dwyn was
lucky. On the fourth day out, the alarm buzzers sang their warning
through the corridors of the X-69.
As the crew scrambled for battle stations, Roysland headed up the
stairway toward the control bridge. Captain Dobrin and the fire control
officer were huddled over the spotterscope, conversing in low tones.
Roysland walked over behind them, but he kept his mouth shut. In a
situation like this, he was only a civilian; it wasn't his business to
say anything now. He studied the instruments, instead.
Somewhere out near the limits of the detector's range had come the
faint trace of a moving ship. And the identity comparator showed it to
be an Enlissa vessel.
"She must have picked us up, too," said the captain. "We'll know in a
few minutes."
They watched quietly, tensely, waiting for the Enlissa ship to change
course. If it didn't, a battleship would normally change the geodesic
of its own flight and follow to engage the Enlissa ship. But not the
X-69; she was looking for planets, not ships.
They didn't have to wait long. A few minutes later, a trace appeared in
the same octant of the scope where the earlier trace had vanished.
"Same ship, all right," said the FCO. "It would take them that long to
turn around. They're going to try to come in for a kill."
"Signal Final Alert," said the captain.
As the buzzer sizzled out its message, Roysland flexed his muscles in a
subconscious desire for action.
Captain Dobrin seemed to realize for the first time that Roysland was
in the control room. His face was hard and tightly drawn, and only very
slightly showed the strain that was beneath.
"We're going to operate according to the new tactics," he said. "We'll
use the torpedoes first and the _aJ_ guns last. We'll use screenbusters
and files."
Roysland nodded. "You're in command here, captain. I know nothing of
spatial strategy."
The prime officer turned back to the FCO. "Check maximum volume and
englobe. It'll be expensive, but we can't afford to take chances now."
"Yes, sir," said the fire control officer.
Roysland watched the instruments closely as the FCO gave his orders.
The first job was to feed into the calculators the exact course and
velocity of the enemy ship. Then they waited until the calculators gave
the most probable volume of space that the ship would occupy after the
screenbuster torpedoes were sent.
Take a solution to the Brownian Movement problem; add everything that
is known about spatial strategy; stir well with the enemy's probable
interpretation of the signals from the torpedoes--and hope like hell.
The first ingredient is relatively easy to determine, the second very
much less so, and the third is almost pure intuition.
Figures began to pop up on the screen. The FCO watched them, unmoving,
his face a rigid mask. Then suddenly, he began to punch data into the
torpedo-firing robots.
Roysland narrowed his eyes as he watched. The _aJ_ projectors didn't
require that much computation. If the _aJ_'s were fired now, the
Enlissa ship wouldn't have a chance to fire. And yet, statistics showed
that--
_Why?_
The FCO's masklike face began to acquire a sheen of perspiration in the
glowing lights of the control room as he watched the screen and punched
methodically at the fire control board. It was work that no robot
could do; it required the shrewdness, intuition, and foresightedness
that is a peculiar quality of the human mind.
Without warning, the FCO jabbed violently at the white stud that stood
at the edge of his panel. He jerked his finger off, and his hand seemed
to freeze for a second. He had done the irrevocable; he had fired every
torpedo in the ship.
The X-69 now possessed no armament except the _aJ_ guns.
* * * * *
The first volley of screenbusters left the ship and slammed suddenly
into the ultravelocity that only an unmanned torpedo is capable of.
Even an antiacceleration field isn't one hundred per cent perfect. In
no-space drive, a ship can accelerate at the spatial equivalent of
better than a hundred thousand gravities without hurting the crew. But
the tremendous acceleration of a war torpedo would crush any human body
to a monomolecular film.
The torpedoes had to be small; only a very small no-space generator
could achieve such velocities in so short a time. But their small
capacity was capable of carrying enough subnuclear explosive to smash
through the energy screens of the enemy ship.
They could not, however, breach the vodium hull itself or kill
personnel within. That was where the "flies" came in. Their job was
to smash through the breach in the energy screen, open the hull, and
destroy life within.
The only trouble was that the enemy could detect the torpedoes. If the
Enlissa could act fast enough, they might be able to avoid them. The
hope of the human ship was that the englobement would be too much for
the robot computers of the Enlissa.
The first wave of torpedoes left the X-69, spearing in the general
direction of the Enlissa vessel. For a fraction of a second, they
maintained their original course. Then they became erratic--purposely
so. They flashed on and off in the detector screens as their no-space
generators cut in and out, and they switched courses with dizzying
rapidity. They had been on their way only for hundredths of a second
when the second volley let go. Then the third blasted out. The whole
thing was over before an eyelid could flicker.
Roysland glanced at the chronometer; the whole operation had taken
slightly over ninety seconds.
The silence lasted only for a moment. One of the observers called out:
"Torpedo at twelve thirty-seven!"
The data had already been picked up by the robot pilot, and the X-69
shifted course. Roysland could feel the slightly sickish feeling in his
stomach under the heavy acceleration as the angular acceleration of the
ship changed.
There was nothing to do now but wait. It was up to the robot defenses
and the screens to make sure that no enemy torpedo hit the X-69.
The ship lurched again.
Because of their tremendous acceleration, a war torpedo couldn't
possibly be a homing type weapon; it moved too fast. Before even a
subelectronic relay could operate, the target would be well out of
range. The X-69 was in the position of a man ducking thrown stones; the
only fatal move would be an inaccurate judgment.
* * * * *
Again the floor jerked beneath them as another enemy torpedo sizzled
through the place where the ship might have been.
"_Explosion at fifteen-sixty!_" shouted two observers at once.
The FCO's face suddenly broke into a grin. "We did it," he said softly.
Then the intercom flickered on. An excited Space Marine said: "Captain
Dobrin! There's something funny going on down here; that Enlissa
officer we've got in the brig just dropped dead!"
It was at that instant that Roysland Dwyn found his answer. The pieces
of the whole jigsaw puzzle fell into place and made a beautiful
picture. And he realized that the Enlissa, too, had changed their
battle tactics.
And that was when the explosion hit.
Four torpedoes had come in on the X-69 at once, and the robot had been
a fraction of a second too late in computing the trajectories all at
once and figuring a safe path.
The screenbuster's detonation jarred the whole ship violently. Then
there were two thumps as a pair of flies came into the hole through
the screen and blasted the interior of the cruiser.
Roysland wasn't sure what had happened; the whole control room had
suddenly seemed to turn upside down. When he picked himself up from one
wall--which had now become "down"--his nose was bleeding, and his right
arm was dead to the shoulder. Broken clavicle.
He shook his head groggily and looked around. Captain Dobrin was
slumped against a corner of the wall. The FCO was sprawled across the
side of his control board. The various observers were tumbled around
the room like so many rag dolls shaken up in a shoe box.
Gradually, the gravity righted itself, and Roysland rolled to the
floor. He pulled himself up by one arm and ran toward the control
panel. He had barely time to act.
Fortunately, most of the observers were reasonably aware of their
surroundings. Those who could move were back at their control boards by
the time Roysland reached the fire control board.
A second blast hit the ship, but Roysland was prepared for it this
time; his fingers gripped the hand-holds and strained as the gravity
shifted beneath his feet.
The X-69 couldn't stand another one like that. The Enlissa ship had
computed better than they had thought.
"_aJ_ projectors!" Roysland shouted. "Prepare to track and fire!"
The only way to save the ship now was to shoot down every torpedo
before it hit.
"All guns tracking, sir," said one of the observers.
"Set and ready!" Roysland said. "Fire automatically!" He punched a
button.
The _aJ_ projectors moved in their mounts, each one seeking out a
different missile. They would go on seeking until the--
Then the first one fired, and Roysland's mind went blank, as did
everyone else's aboard the X-69.
* * * * *
For a long time, Roysland Dwyn watched a play. He was a disinterested
spectator, who had not one iota of interest in what was going on. He
was much, much, _much_ too busy with his own thoughts to be interested
with such trivia as his bodily reactions and his exterior environment.
In the first place, he had solved the problem. And such a fascinating
problem! The broad ramifications of the whole concept were appalling in
their immensity and scope!
Some people came into the control room after a long while and asked
him some questions. He answered them politely, but without paying any
attention whatsoever to what they were saying.
_After all, what could possibly be so utterly absorbing as my own
problems? Who could be more important than I?_
The people asked him to walk to somewhere, and he did; but he didn't
have the slightest notion where he was going, nor why, nor how. And he
really didn't care. They put him in a bed and fed him soup and stuck
needles in his arm and several other utterly meaningless things, but it
made no difference.
_Introspection. Know thyself. And then get going around and around and
around on the ever deepening spiral-helix that goes lower and lower as
it closes in on itself. Self-analysis. What are my motivations? Why do
I want to know what my motivations are? Why am I analyzing myself? Why
do I want to know why I am analyzing myself?_
_What do I know about the motivations for desiring to know about the
reasons for analyzing myself? Why do I feel that the motivations_--
After a long period of being left alone, he was in a place that was
different from where he had been before, but it wasn't any different
than the place where--
A sudden blazing shock crossed Roysland's mind. With the awful
brilliant clarity of a man seeing suddenly into a darkened room when
the lights have been lit unexpectedly, Roysland snapped agonizingly
back to awareness.
Only for a fraction of a second did he realize what had happened. Then
his mind blacked out under the shock.
When he came out of it again, a nurse was standing by his bedside. She
smiled at him when he opened his eyes, and said: "How do you feel, sir?"
He thought for a moment, taking inventory of exactly how he did feel.
Then he smiled. "I feel fine. What happened?"
The girl touched a relay plate. "The psychometrist will be in right
away, sir. He'll explain things to you." She gave him another flash of
white teeth and stepped out of the room.
Less than a minute later, the door opened, and the psychometrist came
in. It was Bilford.
"Well, well," Roysland said. "I get special treatment; the chief cheese
is in to see me."
Bilford grinned, ran a hand through his hair and nodded. His thin face
seemed to almost sparkle from within. "Yup. You're important. I knew
you'd want to see someone as soon as you came to."
Roysland propped himself up in bed. "How right you are. The boys have
solved the Secret of the Mysterious Weapon, I see. Have they actually
made a usable weapon out of it?"
Bilford lifted his eyebrows. "What makes you think they've figured it
out?"
Roysland's massive face broke into a grin. "Simple. I'm back among the
living again. If I'm right--and I think I am--you undid this feedback
in the prefrontal lobes with an effect similar to the one that caused
it. Q.E.D.: You know what caused it."
Bilford nodded. "Good reasoning. And accurate. I guess your brain isn't
as burned out as it might be. I guess you can see visitors now."
"Who?" Roysland asked.
Bilford stood up and headed for the door. "Four Special Weapons staff
members and a Fleet Commander. They've been waiting to see you for
three days, and I told them you'd be out from under this morning."
Then he stopped at the door and looked bland. "Of course, if you don't
_want_ to see them--"
"Get them in here!" bellowed Roysland.
* * * * *
All Bilford had to do was open the door. Five men came into the room
as though the hall were full of poison gas. After a minute or so of
inquiring after Roysland's health and expressing their sympathy for his
plight, they settled down to business.
"I figured there was something screwy in that story you gave me,"
Allerdyce said. "Going to hunt for animals, indeed!"
Bilford grinned. "I didn't think he was, either. It was brilliant to
have those recorders in the Enlissa officer's cell. And the other stuff
came through perfectly."
Roysland shook his head. "You misunderstand me. I most certainly did
intend to get animal specimens. I figured the answer was involved with
the aliens themselves, but I didn't know what the gimmick was.
"Now I know that it was the interaction of the _aJ_'s backwash and the
enemy's beam that caused the mindjammer effect. The enemy's weapon
was intended as a death ray, but for some reason, it doesn't work on
humans."
"That's right," said Taddibol. "The enemy projector was designed to
disintegrate the molecule of a particular enzyme that is necessary to
Enlissa life. It does the job beautifully, too. When the beam hits an
Enlissa, the enzyme disintegrates, oxidation can no longer take place
in the tissues, and presto! the Enlissa dies. But our own system is so
different that the beam doesn't even effect us."
"The answer's been right in front of our eyes for a long time,"
Kiffer said. "The backwash from the _aJ_'s has too long a wave length
to be effective, and the Enlissa's death ray is too short. But the
complex harmonic of the two is just right. It creates a momentary
field that causes the loop-feedback to start in the prefrontal lobes.
From what we can gather, the effect is one of intense, overpowering
curiosity--inwardly directed."
"Statistically," Allerdyce cut in, "it accounts for the peculiar
behavior of the enemy ships, too. If we assume that a little over
twenty-five per cent of their ships are equipped with what they think
is a death ray, you'll get the right figures. About the same number of
our ships are equipped with _aJ_ projectors.
"When a death-ray ship comes in on an _aJ_ ship, the _aJ_ guns cut it
down and the crew is mindjammed. But if a death-ray ship comes in on
one of our conventionally armed ships, they're blasted out of the sky
because they figure that everyone aboard the ship is dead and they
don't bother to fire any torpedoes. Our own torpedoes come as a pretty
rude surprise. So the enemy has lost one hundred per cent of their
death-ray equipped vessels in every engagement!"
Roysland nodded. "We couldn't see it because we weren't looking for it.
I suspected at first that it had something to do with the _aJ_'s; the
statistics suggested that. But when every test showed that it couldn't
possibly be our own projectors, and when this Enlissa projector came
along, I made the mistake of dropping the previous line of approach.
Keep that in mind, boys; you can forget old _theories_, but you can't
forget old _data_.
"By the way, commander, did you figure out how we happened to get the
Enlissa ship?"
"Sure," said Allerdyce. "When they came in so close, they were caught
by the field that was generated. The thing has an effective englobement
volume with a radius of about six hundred miles. We don't know what the
effect is near the outside, of course, but we're working on it."
* * * * *
"You know," Roysland said, "mankind has known for centuries the old
dictum that 'the whole is greater than the sum of its parts,' but we
sometimes forget how it works in practice. We still tend to look from
cause to effect and from effect to cause.
"But in this case, there were two 'causes' of the mindjammer field, and
three 'effects' from the two 'causes.' And that's simplifying a great
deal. We still haven't dug into what else we can get from subetheric
harmonics phenomena."