"It probably will, unless you can stop it from happening."
I felt gray sickness on my face, felt that she knew what she was
talking about. "How?" I whispered. "Who'd want to do a thing like that?"
"There's an atomician Chief in control of each of those Piles. Men who
have been tested and scanned and conditioned until the Atomic Energy
Commission hasn't any doubt of their reliability. But we happen to know
that an unintegrated personality of great mental power--powers like
our own--has gotten control of these ten Chief's minds. At a specific
time, acting in complete unconscious accord, they will respond to a
posthypnotic command already planted in their unconscious minds. Upon
responding, they will allow those Piles to reach critical mass."
And so then, naturally, I wanted to know what that had to do with me.
Malcolm Mergon spoke then. "So--you are going to meet this person who
controls them. We can not move against those ten while he is around,
and he is stronger than we are. When he is gone, then we can go to work
on those Chief's minds. _You will have to kill this man!_"
"_Who_ is this man," I said, not very loud.
"Ronal LeStrang," he said. "President of the Atomic Energy Commission."
I jumped up. I was mad and scared and confused. "Hey wait now! You
think just because I'm a bit of nameless scum you picked up out
of a Martian garbage pit, you can make a sucker out of me! I'm no
professional killer! You guys are hypnotists. How do I know that what
you're saying is fact? How do I know you aren't some foreign agents,
wanting to start a world revolution or something? You think I can go
out and kill a man just because a couple of guys tell me to!"
She pleaded with me. "That's why we came to Mars, Ray," she said. "We
might never have found anyone like you otherwise. You're strong, you
have courage, and very strong latent ESP potentials. But more than any
of those things, you can--_kill_. Except for on the frontier planets
and the asteroids, the ability to kill has been bred out by the new
psychogenic surgery and conditioning marts."
She hesitated, then said, "And he has to be killed, Ray; that's the
only way left. Killing is destructive, and we can't do it. We're
mentally incapable of doing it. But he isn't; that's our handicap.
You've got to help us."
And I knew she was right. Whether I knew it because of my own thinking,
or whether Malcolm Mergon's mind had forced me to know it--that wasn't
important any more. I knew I had to do it.
He moved toward me. His eyes burned.
"Wait," I said quickly. I looked around for a way out. I was trapped,
and I didn't know whether I really wanted to get away or not. I only
knew I was scared of what they could do to my mind. My mind wasn't
much, but I was used to it. It was all I had. "Wait a minute, you guys.
Give me a chance. Give--"
"We haven't much time, Ray," he said. "But first we must give you some
added ability. It's already in you, but it's dormant. We'll bring it
into the active stage. Maybe you would like to have some of the--power
that we have, Ray? Anyway, you will need it. Now, Ray, go back to sleep
so we can give you the power. It won't take long. Go back to sleep, Ray.
"_Ray, go back to sleep!_"
* * * * *
This time when I recognized daylight again, I was different. I felt
funny, not the same; things were twisted around now. I was walking
down the big new Eighth Tier of Uptown Broadway, feeling the jet-cars
pushing past in their different speed lanes. The sun was shining on the
big lacework of tiers and tubes, and I was walking. But things were not
the same.
I felt like everything that had happened since hitting the Martian in
Jelahn's tavern was part of a dream, and that now I was coming awake
maybe for the first time. The life around me looked faded, blurred, not
quite real.
I had some of _their_ power all right. I could feel it, and it was like
a new kind of Martian rotgut was giving me a crazy highness. I felt
like I'd suddenly gone screwy, but didn't care--as though nobody could
touch me for it. I had some of their power, whoever or whatever they
were, but not very much I thought; just enough to help me kill Ronal
LeStrang.
A tele-audio flash information band on the side of the building shocked
me as I stared at it. It gave the date. September 6, 1983.
Since Malcolm Mergon had walked toward me saying "Ray, go back to
sleep," it had been three weeks! I'd been out three weeks. It jolted
me. Three weeks. Work on my brain; work on my body; do things to my
nervous set-up; make me different. This Glora and Malcolm Mergon--I
knew they could do an awful lot to a guy in three weeks.
I stumbled a little, ran into a cute little blonde. She glared at me
then looked scared. I felt her thoughts, felt hundreds, thousands of
thoughts that belonged to the pedestrians around me, swarming and
beating at my head like moths at a light. "He's a drunk! ... looks
like one of those non-rehabilitated space men ... see the cosmic-ray
burns on his face ... stay away from him ... dangerous...."
Dangerous, sure. They'd done plenty to me, but I didn't know what nor
how much. And I didn't even know why ... not for sure; just what they'd
told me to believe. But I remembered--dangerous--I was supposed to kill.
A piece of uncultured, ignorant, un-psyched space-rot! Picked up and
brought to Earth to do a murder job. They got me, Ray Berton, killer.
But that wasn't enough for them, oh no. They had to give me added
abilities--make me a super-delux killer!
Me, Ray Berton. The guy who would save the world!
* * * * *
I took a grav-raise tube up the building front to the top of the big
central UN Building in International Square. I stepped into a scanning
cubicle. A mechanical voice said: "State the purpose of your visit,
please."
I stared around me at the mosaicked floors and walls. A super-super
delux killer. And with one of the most important men in the world to
kill. I knew that, through Glora and Malcolm, I'd made an appointment.
Made it sound important.
"An appointment to see Mr. Ronal LeStrang. About a 'heavy' beryllium
strike in the asteroids." As head of the Atomic Energy Commission,
LeStrang would be more than willing to have a personal talk about that.
The Earth was supposed to be International minded, but it was still a
case of getting the most and getting it first then saying "See!"
"You may go in, Mr. Berton."
I dropped my right hand into my jacket pocket, wrapped my fingers
around a small coiled bunch of deadly metal. Metal with a trigger that
would release enough energy to kill the biggest man in the world as
quickly as any other.
As I came into the big glass-lined office, LeStrang got up from behind
a desk. He was short and stocky, with a naked-looking head and white
eyebrows. There wasn't any sense in wasting time, I figured. I had a
slight advantage of surprise; I took it.
I jumped across the room, and took the little neutron gun out of my
pocket. Before LeStrang could shrug his eyelashes, I had that gun
jabbed right at his belly.
I shivered. His body didn't look real. His eyes didn't belong in that
body; they seemed to flame out at me. I felt thought fingers grabbing
at my mind, but there seemed to be automatic shields clicking into
place, blocking him.
"The interview's over," I said, and started to pull the trigger.
Something stopped me. Sweat ran into my eyes; I felt like I was going
to lay down on the floor. His eyes looked at my cosmic-rayed face, the
purple scars of burns from the wild radioelements of the asteroids.
I heard myself whimpering like a scared _srith_-dog. His thoughts were
stronger, in a way, than Glora's or Malcolm's. They started eating away
at my mind like dark acid--thought fingers getting hold and trying to
squeeze like my brain was a sponge.
"Glora and Mal sent you of course. They couldn't touch me here, so they
sent you. I didn't think they'd stoop so low as to hire animals to work
for them. Well, they can't win anyway; I had the thing all set, but now
it's just a case of postponement. I'll fix it next time so they can't
stop me."
I raised the neutron gun. "Next time," I said. "There isn't going to be
any."
He laughed softly at me. As I started to fire, his body faded; it
became nothingness right there in front of me, like it had turned into
smoke, and then the smoke became transparent. Then there was nothing at
all. Just a big room that seemed empty even though I was in it. He had
disappeared, but I hadn't fired.
For a minute I went completely blank. I felt numb all over, then panic
hit me. LeStrang had disappeared in front of me. I knew he hadn't been
wiped out; he'd just gone someplace else. That was part of this--power.
Mental power. Glora and Malcolm Mergon had it. LeStrang had it--
And Ray Berton--no that was crazy! Maybe I could send and receive
thoughts. But a lot of ESP groups could do that. It was still
borderline stuff, not accepted by the big shot scientists. Telepathy,
and--ESP included other wild talents, I knew. An old woman on the South
Canal had claimed to have the power of teleportation. Gamblers talked
about telekenesis.
I had to get out of LeStrang's office; I was trapped there, and I'd
be the goat if caught. From somewhere, I heard Glora's thought voice
calling.
"Get out of that office, right now, Ray! Hurry. We'll help you. Get
rid of doubts. You can do it; think about how you can do it. Come back
here to us, Ray. Back to us. Right now. All of you, at once, right now.
Think of us, visualize us, this room. You're not there. You're here.
_You're here, Ray! Here!_"
And she was right. I wasn't in LeStrang's office anymore.