Second-Stage Lensman Tregonsee of Rigel IV did not rush madly out
into space in quest of something or anything Boskonian in response to
Kinnison's call. To hurry was not Tregonsee's way. He could move fast
upon occasion, but before he would move at all he had to know exactly
how, where, and why he should move.
He conferred with his three fellows, he furnished them with all the
data he possessed, he helped integrate the totaled facts into one
composite. That composite pleased the others well enough so that they
went to work, each in his own fashion, but it did not please Tregonsee.
He could not visualize any coherent whole from the available parts.
Therefore, while Kinnison was investigating the fall of Antigan IV,
Tregonsee was sitting--or rather, standing--still and thinking. He was
still standing still and thinking when Kinnison went to Radelix.
Finally he called in an assistant to help him think. He had more
respect for the opinions of Camilla Kinnison than for those of any
other entity, outside of Arisia, of the two galaxies. He had helped
train all five of the Kinnison children, and in Cam he had found a
kindred soul. Possessing a truer sense of values than any of his
fellows, he alone realized that the pupils had long since passed their
tutors; and it is a measure of his quality that the realization brought
into Tregonsee's tranquil soul no tinge of rancor, but only wonder.
What those incredible Children of the Lens had he did not know, but he
knew that they--particularly Camilla--had extraordinary gifts.
In the mind of this scarcely grown woman he perceived depths which he
could not plumb, extensions and vistas the meanings of which he could
not even vaguely grasp. He did not try either to plumb the abysses or
to survey the expanses; he made no slightest effort, ever, to take
from any of the children anything which the child did not first offer
to reveal. In his own mind he tried to classify theirs; but, realizing
in the end that that task was and always would be beyond his power,
he accepted that fact as calmly as he accepted the numberless others
of Nature's inexplicable facts. Tregonsee came the closest of any
Second-Stage Lensman to the real truth, but even he never did suspect
the existence of the Eddorians.
Camilla, as quiet as her twin sister Constance was boisterous,
parked her speedster in one of the capacious holds of the Rigellian's
spaceship and joined him in the control room.
"You believe, I take it, that Dad's logic is faulty, his deductions
erroneous?" the girl thought; after a casual greeting. "I'm not
surprised. So do I. He jumped at conclusions. But then, he does that,
you know."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that, exactly. However, it seems to me," Tregonsee
replied carefully, "that he did not have sufficient basis in fact to
form any definite conclusion as to whether or not Renwood of Antigan
was a Boskonian operative. It is that point which I wish to discuss
with you first."
Cam concentrated. "I don't see that it makes any difference,
fundamentally, whether he was or not," she decided, finally. "A
difference in method only, not in motivation. Interesting, perhaps, but
immaterial. It is virtually certain in either case that Kandron of Onlo
or some other entity is the motive force and is the one who must be
destroyed."
"Of course, my dear, but that is only the first differential. How
about the second, and the third? Method governs. Nadreck, concerning
himself only with Kandron, tabulated and studied only the Kandronesque
manifestations. He may--probably will--eliminate Kandron. It is by no
means assured, however, that that step will be enough. In fact, from
my preliminary study, I would risk a small wager that the larger and
worse aspects would remain untouched. I would, therefore, suggest that
we ignore, for the time being, Nadreck's findings and examine anew all
the data available."
"I wouldn't bet you a millo on that." Camilla caught her lower lip
between white, even teeth. "Check. The probability is that Renwood
was a loyal citizen. Let us consider every possible argument for and
against that assumption--"
They went into a contact of minds so close that the separate thoughts
simply could not be resolved into terms of speech. They remained that
way, not for the period of a few minutes which would have exhausted
any ordinary brain, but for four solid hours; and at the end of that
conference they had arrived at a few tentative conclusions.
* * * * *
Kinnison had said that there was no possibility of tracing a
hyperspatial tube after it had ceased to exist. There were millions of
planets in the two galaxies. There was an indefinite, quite possibly an
infinite number of coexistent parallel spaces, into any one of which
the tube might have led. Knowing these things, Kinnison had decided
that the probability was infinitesimally small that any successful
investigation could be made along those lines.
Tregonsee and Camilla, starting with the same facts, arrived at
entirely different results. There were many spaces, true, but the
inhabitants of any one space belonged to that space and would not be
interested in the conquest or the permanent taking over of any other.
Foreign spaces, then, need not be considered. Civilization had only
one significant enemy: Boskonia. Boskonia, then, captained possibly by
Kandron of Onlo, was the attacker. The tube itself could not be traced
and there were millions of planets, yes, but those facts were not
pertinent.
Why not? Because "X," who might or might not be Kandron, was
not operating from a fixed headquarters, receiving reports from
subordinates who did the work. A rigid philosophical analysis, of which
few other minds would have been capable, showed that "X" was doing
the work himself, and was moving from solar system to solar system to
do it. Those mass psychoses in which entire garrisons went mad all
at once, those mass hysterias in which vast groups of civilians went
reasonably out of control, could not have been brought about by any
ordinary mind. Of all Civilization, only Nadreck of Palain VII had the
requisite ability; was it reasonable to suppose that Boskonia had many
such minds? No. "X" was either singular or a small integer.
Which? Could they decide the point? With some additional data, they
could. Their linked minds went _en rapport_ with Worsel, with
Nadreck, with Kinnison, and with the principal statistician at Prime
Base.
In addition to Nadreck's locus, they determined two more--one of all
inimical manifestations, the other of those which Nadreck had not used
in his computations. Their final exhaustive analysis showed that there
were at least two, and very probably only two, prime intelligences
directing those Boskonian activities. They made no attempt to identify
either of them. They communicated to Nadreck their results and their
conclusions.
"I am working on Kandron," the Palainian replied, flatly. "I made no
assumptions as to whether or not there were other prime movers at work,
since the point has no bearing. Your information is very interesting,
and may perhaps prove valuable, and I thank you for it--but my present
assignment is to find and to kill Kandron of Onlo."
* * * * *
Tregonsee and Camilla, then, set out to find "X"; not any definite
actual or deduced entity, but the perpetrator of certain closely
related and highly characteristic phenomena, viz., mass psychoses and
mass hysterias. Nor did they extrapolate. They visited the last few
planets which had been affected, in the order in which the attacks had
occurred. They studied every phase of every situation. They worked
slowly, but--they hoped and they believed--surely. Neither of them had
any idea then that behind "X" lay Ploor, and beyond Ploor, Eddore.
Having examined the planet latest to be stricken, they made no effort
to pick out definitely the one next to be attacked. It might be any one
of ten worlds, or possibly even twelve. Hence, neglecting entirely the
mathematical and logical probabilities involved, they watched them all,
each taking six. Each flitted from world to world, with senses alert to
perceive the first sign of subversive activity. Tregonsee was a retired
magnate, spending his declining years in seeing the galaxy; Camilla was
a Tellurian business girl on vacation.
Young, beautiful, innocent-looking girls who traveled alone were, then
as ever, regarded as fair game by the Don Juan of any given human
world. Scarcely had Camilla registered at the Hotel Grande when a
well-groomed, self-satisfied man-about-town made an approach.
"Hel-lo, Beautiful! Remember me, don't you--old Tom Thomas? What say
we split a bottle of fayalin, to renew old--" He broke off, for the
red-headed eyeful's reaction was in no sense orthodox. She was not
coldly unaware of his presence. She was neither coy nor angry, neither
fearful nor scornful. She was only and vastly _amused_.
"You think, then, that I am human and desirable?" Her smile was
devastating. "Did you ever hear of the Canthrips of Ollenole?" She had
never heard of them either, before that instant, but this small implied
mendacity did not bother her.
"No, I can't say that I have." The man, while very evidently taken
aback by this new line of resistance, persevered. "What kind of a
brush-off do you think you're trying to give me?"
"Brush-off? See me as I am, you beast, and thank whatever gods you
recognize that I am not hungry, having eaten just last night." In his
sight her green eyes darkened to a jetty black, the flecks of gold in
them scintillated and began to emit sparks. Her hair turned into a mass
of horribly clutching tentacles. Her teeth became fangs, her fingers
talons, her strong, splendidly proportioned body a monstrosity out of
Hell's grisliest depths.
After a moment she allowed the frightful picture to fade back into her
charming self, keeping the Romeo from fainting by the power of her will.
"Call the manager if you like. He has been watching and has seen
nothing except that you are pale and sweating. I, a friend of yours,
have been giving you some bad news, perhaps. Tell your stupid police
all about me, if you wish to spend the rest of your life in a padded
cell. I'll see you again in a day or two, I hope. I'll be hungry again
by that time." She walked away, serenely confident that the fellow
would never willingly come within sight of her again.
She had not damaged his ego permanently--he was not a neurotic
type--but she had given him a jolt which he never would forget. Camilla
Kinnison nor any of her sisters had anything to fear from any male or
males infesting any planet or roaming any depths of space.
* * * * *
The expected and awaited trouble developed. Tregonsee and Camilla
landed and began their hunt. The League for Planetary Purity, it
appeared, was the primary focal point; hence the two attended a meeting
of that crusading body. That was a mistake; Tregonsee should have
stayed out in deep space, concealed behind a solid thought-screen.
For Camilla was an unknown. Furthermore, her mind was inherently
stable at the third level of stress; no lesser mind could penetrate
her screens or, having failed to do so, could recognize the fact of
failure. Tregonsee, however, was known throughout all civilized space.
He was not wearing his Lens, of course, but his very shape made him
suspect. Worse, he could not hide from any mind as powerful as that of
"X" the fact that his mind was very decidedly not that of a retired
Rigellian gentleman.
Thus Camilla had known that the procedure was a mistake. She intimated
as much, but she could not sway the unswerving Tregonsee from his
determined course without revealing things which must forever remain
hidden from him. She acquiesced, therefore, but she knew what to expect.
Hence, when the invading intelligence blanketed the assemblage lightly,
only to be withdrawn instantly upon detecting the emanations of a mind
of real power, Cam had a bare moment of time in which to act. She
synchronized with the intruding thought, began to analyze it and to
trace it back to its source. She did not have time enough to succeed
fully in either endeavor, but she did get a line. When the foreign
influence vanished she shot a message to Tregonsee and they sped away.
Hurtling through space along the established line, Tregonsee's mind
was a turmoil of thought; thoughts as plain as print to Camilla. She
flushed uncomfortably--she could, of course, blush at will.
"I'm not half the superman whose picture you are painting," she said.
That was true enough; no one this side of Arisia could have been.
"You're so famous, you know, and I'm not--while he was examining you I
had a fraction of a second to work in. You didn't."
"That may be true." Although Tregonsee had no eyes, the girl knew that
he was staring at her; scanning, but not intruding, with his highly
developed sense of perception. She lowered her barriers so far that he
thought they were completely down. "You have, however, extraordinary
and completely inexplicable powers ... but, being the daughter of
Kimball and Clarrissa Kinnison--"
"That's it, I think." She paused, then, in a burst of girlish
confidence, went on: "I've got something, I really do think, but the
trouble is that I don't know what it is or what to do with it. Maybe in
fifty years or so I will."
This also was close enough to the truth, and it did serve to restore to
Tregonsee his wonted poise. "Be that as it may, I will take your advice
next time, if you will offer it."
"Try and stop me--I love to give advice." She laughed unaffectedly. "It
might not have turned out any differently this time, though, and it may
not be any better next time."
Then, further to quiet the shrewd Rigellian's suspicions, she strode
over to the control panel and checked the course. Having done so, she
fanned out detectors, centering upon that course, to the fullest range
of their power. She swaggered a little when she speared with the CRX
tracer a distant vessel in a highly satisfactory location. That act
would cut her down to size in Tregonsee's mind.
"You think, then, that 'X' is in that ship?" he asked, quietly.
"Probably not." She could not afford to act too dumb--she could fool a
Second-Stage Lensman a little, but nobody could fool one very much. "It
may, however, give us a lead."
"It is practically certain that 'X' is not in that vessel," Tregonsee
thought. "In fact, it may be a trap. We must, however, make the
customary arrangements to take it into custody."
* * * * *
Cam nodded and the Rigellian communications officers energized
their long-range beams. Far ahead of the fleeing vessel, centering
upon its line of flight, fast cruisers of the Galactic Patrol
began to form a gigantic cup. Hours passed, and--a not unexpected
circumstance--Tregonsee's superdreadnought gained rapidly upon the
supposed Boskonian.
The quarry did not swerve or dodge. Straight into the mouth of the
cup it sped. Tractors and pressors reached out, locked on, and were
neither repulsed nor cut. The strange ship did not go inert, did not
put out a single course of screen, did not fire a beam. She did not
reply to signals. Spy rays combed her from needle nose to driving jets,
searching every compartment. There was no sign of life aboard.
Spots of pink appeared upon Camilla's deliciously smooth cheeks, her
eyes flashed. "We've been had, Uncle Trig--_how_ we've been had!"
she exclaimed, and her chagrin was not all assumed. She had not quite
anticipated such a complete fiasco as this.
"Score one for 'X,'" Tregonsee said. He not only seemed to be, but
actually was, calm and unmoved. "We will now go back and pick up where
we left off."
They did not discuss the thing at all, nor did they wonder how "X" had
escaped them. After the fact, they both knew. There had been at least
two vessels; at least one of them had been inherently indetectable and
screened against thought. In one of these latter "X" had taken a course
at some indeterminable angle to the one which they had followed.
"X" was now at a safe distance.
"X" was nobody's fool.