"Did you kids come through QX?" The frightful combat over, the dreadful
tension a thing of the past, Kit's first thought was for his sisters.
They were unharmed. None of the Five had suffered anything except
mental exhaustion. Recuperation was rapid.
"Better we hunt that tube up and get Dad out of it, don't you think?"
Kit suggested.
"Have you got a story arranged that will hold together under
examination?" Camilla asked.
"Everything except a few minor details, which we can polish up later."
Smoothly the four girls linked their minds with their brother's;
effortlessly the Unit's thought surveyed all nearby space. No
hyperspatial tube, nor any trace of one, was there. Tuned to Kinnison's
pattern, the Unit then scanned not only normal space and the then
present time, but also millions upon millions of other spaces and past
and future times; all without finding the Gray Lensman.
Again and again the Unit reached out, farther and farther; out to the
extreme limit of even its extraordinary range. Every space and every
time was empty. The Children of the Lens broke their linkage and stared
at each other, aghast.
They knew starkly what it must mean, but that conclusion was
unthinkable. Kinnison--their Dad--the hub of the universe--the
unshakable, immutable Rock of Civilization--he _couldn't_ be dead.
They simply could not accept the logical explanations as the true one.
And while they pondered, shaken, a call from their Red Lensman mother
impinged upon their consciousness.
"You are together? Good! I have been _so_ worried about Kim going
into that trap. I have been trying to get in touch with him, but I
cannot reach him. You children, with your greater power--"
She broke off as the dread import of the Five's surface thoughts
became clear to her. At first she, too, was shaken, but she rallied
magnificently.
"Nonsense!" she snapped; not in denial of an unwelcome fact, but in
sure knowledge that the supposition was not and could not be a fact.
"Kimball Kinnison is alive. He is lost, I know--I last heard from
him just before he went into that hyperspatial tube--but I did not
feel him die. And if he died, no matter where or when or how, I would
most certainly have felt it. So don't be idiots, children, please.
Think--_really_ think! I am going to do something--somehow--but
what? Mentor the Arisian? I've never called him and I'm terribly afraid
that he might not be willing to do anything. I could go there and make
him do something, but that would take so long--tell me, what shall
I--what _can_ I do?"
"Mentor, by all means," Kit decided. "The most logical, the only
possible solution. I am sure that in this case he will act. It is
neither necessary nor desirable to go to Arisia." Now that the
Eddorians had ceased to exist, intergalactic space presented no barrier
to Arisian thought, but Kit did not enlighten his mother upon that
point. "Link your mind with ours." She did so.
"Mentor of Arisia!" the clear-cut thought flashed out. "Kimball
Kinnison of Klovia is not present in this, his normal space and time,
nor in any other continuum which we can reach. We ask assistance."
"Ah, 'tis Lensman Clarrissa and the Five." Imperturbably, Mentor's mind
joined theirs on the instant. "I have given the matter no attention,
nor have I scanned my visualization of the Cosmic All. It may be that
Kimball Kinnison has passed on from this plane of exist--"
"He has NOT!" the Red Lensman interrupted violently, so violently
that her thought had the impact of a physical blow. Mentor and the
Five alike could see her eyes flash and sparkle; could hear her voice
crackle as she spoke aloud, the better to drive home her passionate
conviction. "Kim is ALIVE! I told the children so and I now tell
you so. No matter where or when he might be, in whatever possible
extra-dimensional nook or cranny of the entire macrocosmic universe or
in any possible aisle of time between plus and minus eternity, he could
not die--he could not possibly die--without my knowing it. So find him,
please--_please_ find him, Mentor--or, if you can't or won't, just
give me the littlest, _tiniest_ hint as to how to go about it and
I will find him myself!"
The Five were appalled. Especially Kit, who knew, as the others did
not, just how much afraid of Mentor his mother had always been. To
direct such a thought as that to any Arisian was unthinkable; but
Mentor's only reaction was one of pleased interest.
"There is much of truth, daughter, in your thought," he replied,
slowly. "Human love, in its highest manifestation, can be a mighty,
a really tremendous thing. The force, the power, the capability of
such a love as yours is a sector of the truth which has not been fully
examined. Allow me, please, a moment in which to consider the various
aspects of this matter."
* * * * *
It took more than a moment. It took more than the twenty-nine seconds
which the Arisian had needed to solve an earlier and supposedly similar
Kinnison problem. In fact, a full half hour elapsed before Mentor
resumed communication; and then he did so, not to the group as a
whole, but only to the Five; using an ultrafrequency to which the Red
Lensman's mind could not be attuned.
"I have not been able to reach him. Since you could not do so I knew
that the problem would not be simple, but I have found that it is
difficult indeed. As I have intimated previously, my visualization is
not entirely clear upon any matter touching the Eddorians directly,
since their minds were of great power. On the other hand, their
visualizations of us were probably even more hazy. Therefore none
of our analyses of each other were or could be much better than
approximations.
"It is certain, however, that you were correct in assuming that it
was the Ploorans who set up the hyperspatial tube as a trap for your
father. The fact that the lower and middle operating echelons of
Boskonia could not kill him established in the Ploorans' minds the
necessity of taking him alive. The fact gave us no concern, for you,
Kathryn, were on guard. Moreover, even if she alone should slip, it
was manifestly impossible for them to accomplish anything against the
combined powers of you Five. However, at some undetermined point in
time the Eddorians took over, as is shown by the fact that you are all
at a loss: it being scarcely necessary to point out to you that the
Ploorans could neither transport your father to any location which you
could not reach nor pose any problem, including his death, which you
could not solve. It is thus certain that it was one or more of the
Eddorians who either killed Kinnison or sent him where he was sent. It
is also certain that, after the easy fashion in which he escaped from
the Ploorans after they had captured him and had him all but in their
hands, the Eddorians did not care to have the Ploorans come to grips
with Kimball Kinnison; fearing, and rightly, that instead of gaining
information, they would lose everything."
"Did they know that I was in that tube?" Kathryn asked. "Did they
deduce us, or did they think that Dad was a superman?"
"That is one of the many points which are obscure. But it made no
difference, before or after the event, to them or to us, as you should
perceive."
"Of course. They knew that there was at least one third-level mind at
work in the field. They must have deduced that it was Arisian work.
Whether it was Dad himself, or whether it was coming to his aid at
need, would make no difference. They knew very well that he was the
keystone of Civilization, and that to do away with him would be the
shrewdest move they could make. Therefore, we still do not understand
why they didn't kill him out-right and be done with it--if they didn't."
"In exactness, neither do I--that point is the least clear of all.
Nor is it at all certain that he still lives. It is sheerest folly to
assume that the Eddorians either thought or acted illogically, even
occasionally. Therefore, if Kinnison is not dead, whatever was done
was calculated to be even more final than death itself. This premise,
if adopted, forces the conclusion that they considered the possibility
of our knowing enough about the next cycle of existence to be able to
reach him there."
Kit frowned. "You still harp on the possibility of his death. Does not
your visualization cover that?"
"Not since the Eddorians took control. I have not consciously
emphasized the probability of your father's death; I have merely
considered it--in the case of two mutually exclusive events, neither
of which can be shown to have happened, both must be studied with care.
Assume for the moment that your mother's theory is the truth, that your
father is still alive. In that case, what was done and how it was done
are eminently clear."
"Clear? Not to us!" the Five chorused.
"While they did not know at all exactly the power of our minds, they
could establish limits beyond which neither they nor we could go. Being
mechanically inclined, it is reasonable to assume that they had at
their disposal sufficient energy to transport Kinnison and his vessel
to some point well beyond those limits. They would have given control
to a director-by-chance, so that his ultimate destination would be
unknown and unknowable. He would of course land safely--"
"How? How could they, _possibly_--?"
"In time that knowledge will be yours. Not now. Whether or not the
hypothesis just stated is true, the fact confronting us is that Kimball
Kinnison is not now in any region which I am at present able to scan."
Gloom descended palpably upon the Five.
"I am not saying or implying that the problem is insoluble. Since
Eddorian minds were involved, however, you already realize that its
solution will require the evaluation of many millions of factors and
will consume a not inconsiderable number of your years."
"You mean lifetimes!" an impetuous young thought broke in. "Why, long
before that--"
"Contain yourself, daughter Constance," Mentor reproved, gently. "I
realize quite fully all the connotations and implications involved.
I was about to say that it may prove desirable to assist your mother
in the application of powers which may very well transcend in some
respects those of either Arisia or Eddore." He shifted the band of
thought to include the Red Lensman and went on as though he were just
emerging from contemplation:
"Children, it appears that the solution of this problem by ordinary
processes will require more time than can conveniently be spared.
Moreover, it affords a priceless and perhaps a unique opportunity of
increasing our store of knowledge. Be informed, however, that the
probability is exceedingly great that in this project you, Clarrissa,
will lose your life."
"Better not, mother. When Mentor says anything like that, it means
suicide. We don't want to lose you, too." Kit pleaded, and the four
girls added their pleas to his.
Clarrissa knew that suicide was against the Code--but she also knew
that, as long as there was any chance at all, Lensmen always went in.
"Exactly how great?" she demanded, vibrantly. "It isn't absolutely
certain--it _can't_ be!"
"No, daughter, it is not absolutely certain."
"QX, then, I'm going in. Nothing can stop me."
"Very well. Tighten your linkage, Clarrissa, with me. Yours will be
the task of sending your thought to your husband, wherever and whenever
in total space and in total time he may be. If it can be done, you can
do it. You alone of all the entities in existence can do it. I can
neither help you nor guide you in your quest; but by virtue of your
relationship to him whom we are seeking, your oneness with him, you
will require neither help nor guidance. My part will be to follow you
and to construct the means of his return, but the real labor is and
must be yours alone. Take a moment, therefore, to prepare yourself
against the effort, for it will not be small. Gather your resources,
daughter; assemble all your forces and your every power."
* * * * *
They watched Clarrissa, in her distant room, throw herself prone upon
her bed. She closed her eyes, buried her nose in the counterpane, and
gripped a side rail fiercely in each hand.
"Can't we help, too?" The Five implored, as one.
"I do not know." Mentor's thought was as passionless as the voice of
Fate. "I know of no force at your disposal which can affect in any way
that which is to happen. Since I do not know the full measure of your
powers, however, it would be well for you to accompany us, keeping
yourselves alert to take instant advantage of any opportunity to be of
aid. Are you ready, daughter Clarrissa?"
"I am ready," and the Red Lensman launched her thought.
Clarrissa Kinnison did not know, then or ever, did not have even the
faintest inkling of what she did or of how she did it. Nor, tied to
her by bonds of heritage, love, and sympathy though they were and of
immense powers of mind though they were, did any of the Five succeed,
until after many years had passed, in elucidating the many complex
phenomena involved. Even Mentor, the ancient Arisian sage, never did
understand.
All that any of them knew was that an infinitely loving and intensely
suffering woman, stretched rigidly upon a bed, hurled out through space
and time a passionately questing thought--a thought behind which she
put everything she had.
Clarrissa Kinnison, Red Lensman, had much--and every iota of that
impressive sum total ached for, yearned for, and insistently
_demanded_ her Kim--her one and only Kim. Kim her husband; Kim the
father of her children; Kim her lover; Kim her other half; Kim her all
in all for so many perfect years.
"Kim! KIM! Wherever you are, Kim, or whenever, listen! Listen and
answer! Hear me--you _must_ hear me calling--I need you, Kim, from
the bottom of my soul. Kim! My Kim! KIM!!"
Through countless spaces and through untellable times that poignant
thought sped; driven by a woman's fears, a woman's hopes, a woman's
all-surpassing love; urged ever onward and ever outward by the
irresistible force of a magnificent woman's frankly bared soul.