Sitting there alone, waiting for something to happen, Lynne for the
first time since becoming aware of her telepathic powers began to
get a sense of direction along with the thoughts that came to her
from outside. Heretofore she had only been conscious of the thoughts
themselves, varying in power according to the strength of the thinker.
Perhaps because of the altitude of the tower-room, perhaps because her
own power was increasing with practise, perhaps because telepathy was
easier in the thinner Martian atmosphere than on Earth--perhaps through
a combination of all these factors, Lynne was aware of tremendous
mental strength.
Her on-duty periods consisted of two daily shifts, each of about two
Earth-hours. In case of an emergency message reaching her during any
other time, she was to report at once to her tower-post and remain on
duty for the duration. And this was her first shift.
She wondered how long it would take the Martians that had possessed
Revere to seek her out and test her defenses. Apparently these
invisible creatures operated upon a time-scale of their own, making
themselves felt without semblance of rhythm or regular schedule.
Shutting out the meaningless scramble of thoughts that reached her from
the Earth-village below, Lynne considered Revere and the odd constraint
that had prevailed between them during their brief single meeting.
Somewhere beyond the gaunt reddish Martian hills to the southeast, the
planet-ship was carrying him swiftly toward New Samarkand--and, she
hoped, toward rehabilitation.
Revere had had a rough deal on this outpost world. Although he seemed
not to resent it Lynne found herself trembling with indignation at
thought of the needless torture he had undergone--merely to give Lynne
the induced headaches that had undermined her Earth-conditioning. She
thought of Rolf and his thousand-and-two women.
And from somewhere, half a planet away, came a quick mocking thought
from the Svengali who had led her to a planet she had never had the
slightest desire to visit. It said, _Don't bother me now, Lynne--can't
you see I'm busier than_ farb?
So thrilling was the experience, so magnificent the surge of power
which swept through her, that Lynne actually forgot to be angry at
receiving such a quick brush-off. Even a half-world away, she thought,
she could key in on Rolf, learn what he was doing.
A thousand-and-one other women? She sipped sparingly at her
oxyrespirator, felt reinforced exhilaration. With her new-found
ability she was going to be able to check up on his alleged love-life.
She actually gloated as she sat there alone amid the spare Martian
landscape.
Then, feeling somewhat ashamed, she thought of her twin again.
Evidently he was keeping his mind closed for she could not reach him.
She wondered what he was really like, what--say--Lao Mei-O'Connell felt
about him. And all at once she knew, for the Eurasian woman's mind was
an open book.
The Barkutburg leader was almost physically sick at Revere's departure.
Her thoughts of love, of desolation, were so strong that Lynne found
herself sharing them, even though she had seen her twin but a scant few
minutes since attaining an age of reason.
Yet there were strength and determination and a strong sense of duty
holding Lao Mei-O'Connell to her important tasks of seeing that her
share of reclaiming a planet continued. The frail-looking Martian woman
was, Lynne realised, a person of vast character.
She thought of her having deliberately to torture the man she loved,
through drugs that opened his already sick mind to the invaders, and
wondered if she herself would be capable of such behavior no matter how
urgent the circumstance, to--say--Rolf Marcein.
It was then that her first message came through--so unused was she
to receiving telepathically impersonal thoughts that she all but
missed her code signal. The Zuleika operator had to repeat it three
times before Lynne came to with a start and keyed her own thoughts
properly--_Ess-two, Barkutburg. Ess-two, Barkutburg. Come in._
The message itself concerned a supply of chemilamps, which had arrived
at Zuleika from Cathayville and was ready for transhipment, if they
were needed at Barkutburg. Lynne repeated the message, pressed
the hand-buzzer for ground-communication, relayed the news to Lao
Mei-O'Connell in her office below. She was told to notify Zuleika to
send the chemilamps on at once, as they were sorely needed.
Lynne got the message through, after which the Zuleika telepath
flashed, _You're new on the job. How is Fenlay?_
_This is Fenlay here_, she replied. _Revere's twin, Lynne. He's been
sent to New Samarkand for treatment._
_Welcome, Lynne Fenlay--and good luck_, came the answer. _Met any of
our unseen friends yet?_
_Not yet_, thought Lynne, _when are they apt to hit me?_
_There's no telling._ Lynne received a definite impression of a
shrug. The Zuleika operator gave his name, which was Zachary Ramirez,
then signed off for the time being. Thanks to this brief personal
conversation Lynne no longer felt so alone. At least, when the invaders
attacked her, she'd have someone to reach for--or would she?
There was a message from New Walla Walla direct, about an hour later,
concerning some point of bookkeeping. Lynne handled it, then sat out
the rest of her first tour of duty alone. The Martian sun was high in
the sky when at last she took the downlift to the ground.
She found herself ravenously hungry. Either through some effect of the
alien atmosphere and climate or the knowledge the food she would get
was real rather than fabricated, Lynne found herself thinking about
dining in an almost animal fashion.
Nor was the mess disappointing. All residents of Barkutburg shared a
single dining hall, since such a method represented great economy of
time, labor and food supplies. It was, to Lynne, rather like a greatly
enlarged and much more volatile Mother Weedon's. The other residents of
the settlement wore the uniform ruddiness of unmistakable good health.
To Lynne, accustomed to the more pallid countenances of Earth, they
seemed almost vulgar.
Yet the good humor, the camaraderie, were unmistakable--as were the
animal spirits. Lynne, as a pretty girl and new arrival, got more
masculine attention than ever before in her life. She was plied with
offers to see the Martian ruins, to visit the nearby mountaintops, to
take long excursions through the vast dry canal-beds.
To her relief the other girls and women, unless their thoughts lied,
showed very little resentment at her presence. In fact most of them
were as eager as the men to question her about the home planet--though
their questions were cast in more feminine mould. Yet Lynne played her
welcome cautiously, accepting no dates for the present on the plea that
mastery of her new job demanded all her time and strength.
A few days later Lao Mei-O'Connell suggested the two of them go for
a walk. When they were well out of earshot of the others she said,
"You're handling yourself very well, Lynne. So far so good."
Lynne eyed her, carefully avoiding a probe of her mind--she had no wish
to make an enemy of this woman and the basic situation was emotionally
delicate to begin with. She said, "Then you anticipate trouble, Miss
O'Connell?"
"Lao, please," she said. "There's scant room for social formality in a
settlement like Barkutburg. You'll have some trouble, of course--you're
bound to on an alien planet. I hate to think of what I'd have to go
through to adjust to Earth."
"Fair enough," Lynne said gratefully. She wanted to ask Lao about
Revere, what sort of man he was, some of his little habits. She also
began to understand better why Earth-Mars twins were kept so rigorously
apart as a rule. The relationship was a complex and deep one and she
found herself almost as homesick for her twin as was Lao.
"Life is hard here," Lao said, "but not unhappy. It isn't even
particularly earnest, save for necessary jobs. Work hard, play hard,
rest hard--that's the rule of Mars."
"It sounds good," said Lynne sincerely. "Tell me, Lao, just what _is_
the status of electricity on Mars? I was a little worried when you
wanted the chemilamps so urgently. But we have the communicator phones
and electric cooking...."
"It's a strange problem," said the other woman. "Everything works as
long as we can use a closed circuit on this planet. But the minute we
open one up--for lateral broadcasting, say--it is dissipated--like
_that_!" She snapped thin fingers sharply.
Then she added, "But nature seemed to have compensated in our favor
when we were able to develop telepaths." She eyed Lynne speculatively,
added, "You must have tremendous powers. No other Earth-person has ever
been able to make the grade. From what Rolf Marcein told me you were
outstanding the moment Revere reached you."
"I don't pretend to understand it," said Lynne. "As far as my first
few sessions on duty, it seemed to be all right."
"You weren't bothered?" The question was softly urgent.
"No." Lynne shook her head. "But I'm expecting to be."
"You will be, I'm afraid. Every telepath on Mars has been at least
once. Revere had the bad luck to be the first--before the presence
of these beings was even suspected. Hence he was surprised and his
resistance was unprepared. Once they've gained possession it becomes
progressively more difficult to keep them out."
"I suppose," said Lynne, "they pick on telepaths because they can only
enter minds opened for message-reception."
"Probably," Lao informed her. "We can't be certain of anything until
we know more about them and their motives. But you can see what a
threat it has become. Thanks to the paralysis of lateral electronic
communication, the survival of humanity on Mars depends almost entirely
on telepaths. When these zombies or whatever they are take possession
no telepath is worth a damn. Nor can any of them receive messages while
the aliens are threatening them. If they do...."
Lao's silence was eloquent. Lynne took a sip of oxygen as her breathing
became difficult. They were approaching one of the semi-ruined
structures, a vast edifice, squatter and broader than the slim pinnacle
which contained the broadcasting room, whose lower facade was a mass
of friezes in high-relief.
Lynne, as part of her cultural training on Earth, had been taken on
tours of the vast temples of India, Pakistan and Malaya--including
Ankhor Vat. Yet not even the incredible and bizarre reliefs of those
fabulous temples, with all of their grotesqueries and solemnly
religious obscenities, prepared her for what she now saw.
The pantheocratic creatures of ancient Mars were far more diverse than
their counterparts on Earth--and of course utterly exotic. Here were
creatures with two, three and four heads, with innumerable appendages,
with reproductive organs so weird as to defy comment or moral reaction.
* * * * *
One feature Lynne noted at once. Like their Asiatic counterparts on
Earth, they seemed to belong to a theocratic rather than a scientific
culture--yet the buildings themselves were utterly beyond the creative
techniques of even an interplanetary human culture.