Stellor Downing's hard fist came down on the table with a shattering
crash. "I will not!" he said in a powerful tone.
"And I agree," echoed Cliff Lane.
Kennebec smiled patiently. "So far as I know it is the first time
you've ever agreed on anything."
"The future--?" pleaded Toralen Ki.
Kennebec nodded at the Tlemban. "He's willing to die. He thinks enough
of the future to die for it. You two might sublimate your lives just a
little for it."
"Get a couple of others!"
"There are none suitable."
"What a stinking set-up," grunted Lane. "I've got to forget my
identity and become a sheer hyphen."
"Look," snapped Downing, "it happens that you're sneering at my
personality, remember?"
"I wouldn't have your personality for a gift."
"You couldn't--it's too big for the like of you!"
"All right," said Kennebec. "Stop it."
Toralen Ki said, sorrowfully: "I might have been dishonest,
Co-ordinator Kennebec. I should have told them that the mental
transformation would prove who was the better man."
"A convincing lie for the benefit of mankind is often better than the
disquieting truth," observed Kennebec.
Thompson looked up. "What they need is to have their heads knocked
together," he said sourly. "A fine rotten pair."
"Look," started Downing.
"Now listen," grated Lane.
"Shut up!" snapped Thompson. "You've both heard what Toralen Ki said.
You know what's heading this way. You are aware of just what can happen
on Sol if Sol isn't smart. And you sit there like a pair of flat-headed
imbeciles, prating about your own petty fight. Patricia was right. It
is a sorry day for civilization when it must depend upon the likes of
you. Why don't you get smart? Where is your good sense?"
"You've no right--"
"Shut up!" snapped Thompson. "I have every right in the world and by
thunder I'm going to use it! It was funny, for years now, that you
two were running all over your respective worlds, crowing like a pair
of bantam roosters. The Favorite Son of Mars and the Pride of Venus!
A bright pair of grown-up juvenile delinquents! Well, bright boys,
civilization still depends on you."
Stellor Downing turned on Thompson and snarled: "No one is asking you
to give up your identity. I haven't noticed any passion for anonymity
in you, Thompson."
"You won't find any," gritted Thompson. He turned to Toralen Ki and
asked: "Is there any way in which I may take either of their places?"
"Mine," offered Stellor Downing.
"Over my corpse!" shouted Cliff Lane.
"That I can arrange," ground Downing at Lane.
Toralen Ki shook his head, part in negation and part in the
hopelessness of the situation. "No, on two counts," he said slowly.
"One, your mind is not of an extreme nature. Second, your mind is
already energized."
"Hm-m-m," mused Thompson. "Energized but still slumbering, I gather.
Thanks for the tip, Toralen Ki."
He turned and bore his gaze on the battling pair.
"Listen--and carefully," he said.
"Why?"
"Because I tell you so," he said in a hard voice. "I'm tired--as
everyone is--of your foolishness. I'll say no more about it. I've
said my last." He opened his eyes slightly, and caught their gaze. He
said nothing, but held their eyes as though what they saw must not be
lost from sight lest disaster follow. For minutes he held them, and
then he said in a quiet, low voice: "You will become mental twins.
The battle for supremacy between you will and can become one of sheer
mental force. You will each have that which you sneer at in the other.
With all factors in the mind, you will struggle. Whichever of you is
best fitted for existence under such circumstances will emerge victor.
Understand. There will never be a public admission of mediocrity on the
part of either one of you, for you will both change toward the one that
is victorious. Now if you really want to finish that fight, this is a
way to do it."
He turned to Kennebec. "At this point, they'll do it or I'll strap 'em
both down--"