That made it difficult. He looked questioningly at the swamp, but his
guide frowned. "Snakes," he said laconically. "Tigers, crocodiles."
That left the plain, but out there they'd be spotted instantly, and
picked up soon after. He couldn't afford to be questioned by anyone. He
could hear the soldiers. They were getting closer.
* * * * *
The plain. They had to cross it and yet they couldn't. Unless--He
turned to Gowru. "A fog," he said triumphantly. "All we need is another
fog."
His guide smiled with sorrowful dignity. "It takes whisky to make a
good fog. If you had listened to me you would have brought a supply
along. But alas, you are the reformer type, and because of that we are
now caught." His head sunk forward in defeat.
His chin touched his chest and at that his head snapped back and it was
easy to see that he was not defeated. "Without whisky I can't make a
fog," he admitted. "Do you know how many molecules are involved in even
a medium-sized fog?"
Rains didn't, but thought he ought to look impressed.
"A surface now, even a relatively large surface, contains a
comprehensible number of molecules," said Gowru. "My mind isn't sharp
when I'm sober, but I can handle that many."
"I don't see how--" But darkness interrupted his thoughts. "What is
that?" asked Rains.
"I put a surface around us. It has the shape of a tank."
It was surprisingly sensible. There were two groups of soldiers
approaching along the edge of the swamp, and they were in the middle.
It was logical to assume that one group of soldiers would consider the
so-called tank as belonging to the other.
His eyes were adjusting to the changed light: he could see dimly
through the outline that surrounded them. A hundred yards away a
soldier appeared through the trees, saw the tank and stopped. Rains
didn't like the way he fingered the rifle.
"Can you move this thing?" he asked nervously.
"Why not?"
"Good. Let's get away from here."
It weighed little more than nothing--as insubstantial as air. It was
air, bound together on a molecular level by forces originating in the
Hindu's mind. It moved out on the plain as fast as they could walk.
"Halt!" a voice rang out from the edge of the swamp.
"Let them try to stop us," whispered Gowru cheerfully.
Again the voice commanded, but Gowru paid no attention. A rifle shot
sounded behind them and a bullet whizzed uncomfortably close. "Maybe
we'd better stop," suggested Rains.
"A Chandit never surrenders," said his guide stubbornly. Abruptly the
darkness around them deepened. Another rifle shot rang out. The bullet
struck the tank shape, and glanced away.
Air did that, or more correctly, the psi forces of his guide's mind. He
had grossly underestimated the man. "How did you do that?"
"Increased the thickness of the surface by a few molecules," said Gowru
cheerfully. "Handy, if you know how."
It was handy, but there were also disadvantages. No light at all
entered and they couldn't see where they were going.
Rains thought swiftly. Perhaps he could use the soldiers to guide
him. His mind reached out, and was bent backward. Ten inches of steel
couldn't stop his thoughts, but a few molecules of air did. The man had
limited ability, but was exceedingly powerful within those limitations.
He explained the difficulty to Gowru, who stopped and scratched his
head.
"If I made a tiny hole--"
"That's all I need," said Rains, and his mind was through it as it
formed. He skipped from thought to thought, lightly so as not to leave
an awareness of his mental presence. The two groups of soldiers had
joined and started after them, cautiously and at a safe distance.
Unwittingly he and Gowru had stumbled into army maneuvers. And it
wasn't going to be easy to get out of them. Naturally, the soldiers
were curious. And the tank--He looked into the lieutenant's mind.
He shivered. There weren't supposed to be tanks in this area. And Gowru
was not an army man; his idea of a tank was different from that of
Indian designers. He had created a fearsome image, the more frightening
because it didn't correspond to any known make, friendly or foreign.
This was something the Army was going to investigate, with everything
they had.
He explained it briefly to his guide.
"Hmmm," said Gowru. "Maybe I should change the shape to something
they're familiar with?"
He'd thought of that. "It's too late. They'd know something mental was
involved and would call in Gommaf. Could you hold them off?"
* * * * *
Gowru shrugged. Rains thought he probably could, though he might not be
aware of it yet. But though they'd be safe from the mental onslaught of
Gommaf, there was a catch. Sooner or later they'd have to have food and
water, the screen would come down and then they'd be at the mercy of
the Indian mentalists.
There had to be another way and he thought he saw it. "How long can you
keep this up?"
"For days," sat Gowru. "Once it's in existence I merely have to touch
it now and then to keep it up."
"Good. Make a small hole so you can see where you're going and start
out across the plain." It was late afternoon and would soon be dark....
"There's an army camp ahead," said Gowru.
"National guard?"
"Multi-national guard. This is India."
Rains sighed. There was no use asking what was on either side and
behind them--more troops. Planes droned overhead. Mobile searchlights
were trained on them. Fortunately, there were no big guns in this area.
Perhaps Gowru could build up the image to withstand even the direct hit
of a large caliber shell, but the concussion wouldn't be pleasant. "If
there's an army camp there must be a trench," Rains said. "Do you see
any?"