XIX.

It had taken the Lensman a long time to work out in his mind exactly

what it was that he had wanted from the Arisians, and from no

single source had the basic idea come. Part of it had come from his

own knowledge of ordinary hypnosis; part from the ability of the

Overlords of Delgon to control from a distance the minds of others;

part from Worsel, who, working through Kinnison's own mind, had done

such surprising things with a Lens; and a great part indeed from the

Arisians themselves, who had the astounding ability literally and

completely to superimpose their own mentalities upon those of others,

wherever situate. Part by part and bit by bit the Tellurian Lensman had

built up his plan, but he had not had the sheer power of intellect to

make it work. Now he had that, and was ready to go.

Where? His first impulse was to return to Aldebaran I and to

invade again the stronghold of the Wheelmen, who had routed him so

ignominiously in his one encounter with them. Ordinary prudence,

however, counseled against that course.

"You'd better lay off them a while, Kim old boy," he told himself quite

frankly. "They've got a lot of jets and you don't know how to use this

new stuff of yours yet. Better pick out something easier to take!"

Ever since leaving Arisia he had been subconsciously aware of a

difference in his eyesight. He was seeing things much more clearly than

he had ever seen them before, more sharply and in greater detail. Now

this awareness crept into his consciousness and he glanced toward his

tube lights. They were out--except for the tiny lamps and bull's-eyes

of his instrument board the vessel must be in complete darkness. He

remembered then, with a shock, that when he entered the speedster he

had not turned on his lights. He could see, and had not thought of them

at all!

This, then, was the first of the surprises the Arisian had promised

him. He now had the sense of perception of the Rigellians. Or was it

that of the Wheelmen? Or both? Or were they the same sense? Intently

aware now, he focused his attention upon a meter before him. First upon

its dial, noting that the needle was exactly upon the green hair line

of normal operation. Then deeper. Instantly, the face of the instrument

disappeared--moved behind his point of sight, or so it seemed--so that

he could see its coils, pivots, and other interior parts. He could

look into and study the grain and particle size of the dense, hard

condensite of the board itself. His vision was limited, apparently,

only by his will to see!

"Well--ain't--that--something!" he demanded of the universe at large;

then, as a thought struck him: "I wonder if they blinded me in the

process?"

He switched on his lamps, discovering that his vision was unimpaired

and normal in every respect; and a rigid investigation proved to him

conclusively that in addition to ordinary vision he now had an extra

sense--or perhaps two of them--and that he could change from one to the

other, or use them simultaneously, at will! But the very fact of this

discovery made Kinnison pause.

He hadn't better go anywhere, or do anything, until he had found out

something about his new equipment. The fact was that he didn't even

know what he had, to say nothing of knowing how to use it. If he

had the sense of a hoot owl he would go somewhere where he could do

a little experimenting without getting his jets burned off in case

something slipped at a critical moment. Where was the nearest patrol

base--a big one, fully defended? Let's see--Radelix would be about the

closest Sector Base, he guessed. He'd find out if he could raid that

outfit without getting caught at it.

Off he shot, and in due course a fair, green, Earthlike planet lay

beneath his vessel's keel. Since it was Earthlike in climate, age,

atmosphere, and mass, its people were, of course, more or less similar

to humanity in general characteristics, both of body and of mind. If

anything, they were even more intelligent than Earthlings, and their

patrol base was a very strong one indeed. His spy ray would be useless,

since all patrol bases were screened thoroughly and continuously.

He would see what a sense of perception would do. From Tregonsee's

explanation, it ought to work at this range.

* * * * *

It did. When Kinnison concentrated his attention upon the base he

saw it. He advanced toward it at the speed of thought and entered

it; passing through screens and metal walls without hindrance and

without giving alarm. He saw men at their accustomed tasks and heard,

or rather sensed, their conversation: the everyday chat of their

professions. A thrill shot through him at a dazzling possibility thus

revealed.

If he could make one of those fellows down there do something without

his knowing that he was doing it, the problem was solved. That

computer, say; make him uncover that calculator and set up a certain

integral on it. It would be easy enough to get into touch with him and

have him do it, but this was something altogether different.

Kinnison got into the computer's mind easily enough, and willed

intensely what he was to do; but the officer did not do it. He got up;

then, staring about him in bewilderment, sat down again.

"What's the matter?" asked one of his fellows. "Forget something?"

"Not exactly." The computer still stared. "I was going to set up an

integral. I didn't want it, either. I could swear that somebody _told_

me to set it up."

"Nobody did," grunted the other, "and you'd better start staying home

nights. Then maybe you wouldn't get funny ideas."

This wasn't so good, Kinnison reflected. The guy should have done it

and shouldn't have remembered a thing about it. Well, he hadn't really

thought he could put it across at that distance, anyway. He didn't have

the brain of an Arisian. He'd have to follow his original plan, of

close-up work.

Waiting until the base was well into the night side of the planet

and making sure that his flare baffles were in place, he allowed the

speedster to drop downward, landing at some little distance from the

fortress. There he left the ship and made his way toward his objective

in a rapid series of long, inertialess hops. Lower and shorter became

the hops. Then he cut off his power entirely and walked until he saw

before him, rising from the ground and stretching interminably upward,

an almost invisibly shimmering web of force. This, the prowler knew,

was the curtain which marked the border of the reservation, the trigger

upon which a touch, either of solid object or of beam, would liberate a

veritable inferno of the most destructive agencies generable.

To the eye that base was not impressive, being merely a few square

miles of level ground, outlined with low, broad pill boxes and studded

here and there with harmless-looking, bulging domes. There were a few

clusters of buildings. That was all--to the eye--but Kinnison was not

deceived. He knew that the base itself was a thousand feet underground;

that the pill boxes housed lookouts and detectors; and that those domes

were simply weather shields which, rolled back, would expose projectors

second in power not even to those of Prime Base itself.

Far to the right, between two tall pylons of metal, was the gate, the

only opening in the web. Kinnison had avoided it purposely; it was

no part of his plan to subject himself yet to the scrutiny of the

all-inclusive photo cells of that entrance. Instead, with his new

sense of perception, he sought out the conduits leading to those cells

and traced them down, through concrete and steel and masonry, to the

control room far below.

He then superimposed his mind upon that of the man at the board

and flew boldly toward the entrance. He now actually had a dual

personality; since one part of his mind was in his body, darting

through the air toward the portal, while the other part was deep in the

base below, watching him come and acknowledging his signals!

* * * * *

A trap lifted, revealing a sloping, tunneled ramp, down which the

Lensman shot. He soon found a convenient storeroom. Slipping within

it, he withdrew his control carefully from the mind of the observer,

wiping out all traces of that control as he did so. He then watched

apprehensively for a possible reaction. He was almost sure that he

had performed the operation correctly, but he had to be absolutely

certain; more than his life depended upon the outcome of this test. The

observer, however, remained calm and placid at his post; and a close

reading of his thoughts showed that he had not the faintest suspicion

that anything untoward had occurred.

One more test and he was through. He must find out how many minds he

could control simultaneously, but he'd better do that openly. No use

making a man feel like a fool needlessly. He'd done that once already,

and once was too many times.

Therefore, reversing the procedure by which he had come, he went back

to his speedster, took her out into the ether, and slept. Then, when

the light of morning flooded the base, he cut his detector nullifier

and approached it boldly.

"Radelix base! Lensman Kinnison of Tellus asking permission to land. I

wish to confer with your Lensman. My screens are down."

A spy ray swept through the speedster, the web disappeared, and

Kinnison landed, to be greeted by four fellow Lensmen with a quiet and

cordial respect--cordiality for his Lens and respect for his gray. The

base commander knew that his visitor was not there purely for pleasure.

Gray Lensmen did not take pleasure jaunts. Therefore, he led the way

into his private office and shielded it.

"My announcement was not at all informative," Kinnison admitted then,

"but my errand is nothing to be advertised. I've got to try out

something, and I want to ask you four Lensmen to coöperate with me for

a few minutes."

"You need not ask----" began the commander.

"No, this is not an order at all, simply a request. You see, I've been

working a long time on a mind controller, and I want to see if it

works. I'll put four books on this table, one in front of each of you.

Now I would like to try to make two or three of you--all four of you if

I can--each bend over, pick up his book, and hold it. Your part of the

game will be for each of you to try not to pick it up, and to put it

back as soon as you possibly can if I do make you obey. Will you?"

"Sure!" the three of them chorused.

"There will be no mental damage, of course?" asked the commander.

"None whatever, and no after effects. I've had it worked on myself, a

lot."

"Do you want any apparatus?"

"No, I have everything necessary. Remember, I want top resistance."

"Let her come! You'll get plenty of resistance. If you can make any

one of us pick up a book, after all this warning, I'll say you've got

something."

* * * * *

Lensman after Lensman, in spite of strainingly resisting mind and body,

lifted his book from the table, only to drop it again as Kinnison's

control relaxed for an instant. He could control two of them--_any_ two

of them--but he could not quite handle three. Satisfied, he ceased his

efforts.

As the base commander poured long, cold drinks for the sweating five,

one of his fellows asked: "What did you do, anyway, Kinnison? Oh,

pardon me, I shouldn't have asked."

"Sorry," the Tellurian replied uncomfortably, "but it isn't ready yet.

You'll all know about it as soon as possible, but not just now."

"Sure," the Radeligian replied. "I knew I shouldn't have blasted off as

soon as I spoke."

"Well, thanks a lot, fellows." Kinnison set his empty glass down with

a click. "I can make a nice progress report on this dojig now. And

one more thing. I did a little long-range experimenting on one of your

computers last night."

"Desk 12? The one who thought he wanted to integrate something?"

"That's the one. Tell him I was using him for a mind-ray subject, will

you, and give him this fifty-credit bill? Don't want the boys needling

him _too_ much."

"Yes, and thanks. And--I wonder----" The base commander evidently had

something on his mind. "Say, can you make a man tell the truth with

that? And if you can, will you?"

"I think so. Certainly I will, if I can. Why?" Kinnison knew that he

could do so, but he did not wish to seem cock-sure.

"There's been a murder." The other three glanced at each other in

understanding and sighed with profound relief. "A particularly fiendish

murder of a woman--girl, rather. Two men have been accused. Each has

a perfect alibi, supported by honest witnesses; but you know how much

an alibi means now. Both men tell perfectly straight stories under the

Lens and all other lie detectors. Either one of those men is lying with

a polish I would never have believed possible, or both are innocent.

And one of them _must_ be guilty; these are the only suspects. If we

try them now we make fools of ourselves; and we can't put off the trial

very much longer without losing face. If you can help us out you'll be

doing a lot for the patrol throughout this whole sector."

"I can help you," Kinnison declared. "For this, though, better have

some props. Make me a box--double Burbank controls, with five baby

spots on it--orange, blue, green, purple and red. I want the biggest

set of head phones you've got, and a thick, black blindfold. How soon

can you try 'em?"

"The sooner the better. It can be arranged for this afternoon."

* * * * *

The trial was announced, and long before the appointed hour the great

courtroom of that world's largest city was thronged. The hour struck.

Quiet reigned. Kinnison, the Lensman, in somber gray, strode to the

judge's desk and sat down behind the peculiar box upon it. In dead

silence two other Lensmen approached. The first invested him reverently

with the head phones; the second so enwrapped his head in black cloth

that it was apparent to all observers that his vision was completely

obscured.

"Although from a world far distant in space, I have been asked to try

two suspects for the crime of murder," Kinnison intoned. "I do not know

the details of the crime nor the identity of the suspects. I do know

that they and their witnesses are within these railings. I shall now

select those who are about to be examined."

Piercing beams of intense, varicolored light played over the two

groups, and the deep, impressive voice went on: "I know now who the

suspects are. They are about to rise, to walk, and to seat themselves

as I shall direct."

They did so, it being plainly evident to all observers that they were

under some awful compulsion.

"The witnesses may be excused. Truth is the only thing of importance

here; and witnesses, being human and therefore frail, obstruct truth

more frequently than they further its progress. I shall now examine

these two accused."

Again the vivid, weirdly distorting glares of light lashed out, bathing

in intense monochrome and in various ghastly combinations first one

prisoner, then the other; the while Kinnison drove his mind into

theirs, plumbing their deepest depths. The silence, already profound,

became the utter stillness of outer space as the throng, holding its

very breath now, sat enthralled by that portentous examination.

"I have examined them fully. You are all aware that any Lensman of

the Galactic Patrol may, in case of need, serve as judge, jury, and

executioner. I am, however, none of these; nor is this proceeding

to be a trial as you may have understood the term. I have said that

witnesses are superfluous. I will now add that neither judge nor jury

is necessary. All that is required is to discover the truth, since

truth is all-powerful. For that reason, also, not even an executioner

is needed here--the discovered truth will in and of itself serve us in

that capacity.

"One of these men is guilty; the other is innocent. From the mind of

the guilty one I am about to construct a composite, not of this one

fiendish crime alone, but of all the crimes he has ever committed.

I shall project that composite into the air before him. No innocent

mind will be able to see any iota of it. The guilty man, however,

will perceive its every revolting detail; and, so perceiving, he will

forthwith cease to exist in this plane of life."

One of the men had nothing to fear--Kinnison had told him so, long

since. The other had been trembling for minutes in uncontrollable

paroxysms of terror. Now this one leaped from his seat, clawing

savagely at his eyes and screaming in mad abandon.

"I did it! Help! Mercy! Take her away! Oh-h-h----" he shrieked, and

died, horribly, even as he shrieked.

Nor was there noise in the courtroom after the thing was over. The

stunned spectators slunk away, scarcely daring even to breathe until

they were safely outside.

* * * * *

Nor were the Radeligian Lensmen much more at ease. Not a word was

said until the five were back in the commander's office at base. Then

Kinnison, still white of face and set of jaw, spoke. The others knew

that he had found the guilty man, and that he had in some peculiarly

terrible fashion executed him. He knew that they knew that the man was

hideously guilty.

Nevertheless, the Tellurian said, "He was guilty--guilty as all the

devils in all the hells of the entire universe. I never had to do

that before, and it gripes me--but I couldn't shove the job off onto

you fellows. I wouldn't want anybody to see that picture who didn't

have to, and without it you could never begin to understand just how

atrociously and damnably guilty that hell hound really was."

"Thanks, Kinnison," the commander said, simply. "Kinnison. Kinnison

of Tellus. I'll remember that name, in case we ever need you as badly

again. But, after what you just did, it will be a long time--if ever.

You didn't know, did you, that all the inhabitants of four planets were

watching you?"

"Holy rockets, no! Were they?"

"They were. And if the way you scared _me_ is any criterion, it will

be a long, cold day before anything like that comes up again in this

system. And thanks again, gray Lensman. You have done something for our

whole patrol this day."

"Be sure to dismantle that box so thoroughly that nobody will recognize

any of its component parts." Kinnison managed a rather feeble grin.

"One more thing and I'll buzz along. Do you fellows happen to know

where there's a good, strong pirate base around here anywhere? And,

while I don't want to seem fussy, I would like it all the better if

they were warm-blooded oxygen breathers, so that I won't have to wear

armor all the time."

"What are you trying to do, give us the needle, or something?" This

is not precisely what the Radeligian said, but it conveys the thought

Kinnison received as the base commander stared at him in amazement.

"Don't tell me that there _is_ such a base around here!" exclaimed the

Tellurian in delight. "Is there, really?"

"There is. It is so strong that we have not been able to touch it, and

it is manned and staffed by natives of your own planet, Tellus of Sol.

We reported it to Prime Base some eighty-three days ago, just after we

discovered it. You're direct from there----" He fell silent. This was

no way to be talking to a gray Lensman.

"I was in the hospital then, fighting with my nurse because she

wouldn't give me anything to eat," Kinnison explained with a laugh.

"When I left Tellus I didn't check up on the late data--didn't think I

would need it quite so soon. If you've got it, though----"

"Hospital! You?" queried one of the younger Lensmen.

"Yeah--bit off more than I could chew." And the Tellurian briefly

described his misadventure with the Wheelmen of Aldebaran I. "This

other thing has come up since then, though, and I won't be sticking my

neck out that way again. If you've got such a made-to-order base as

that in this region, it'll save me a long trip. Where is it?"

They gave him its coördinates and what little information they had been

able to secure concerning it. They did not ask him why he wanted that

data. They may have wondered at his temerity in daring to scout alone a

fortress whose strength had kept at bay the massed patrol forces of the

sector; but if they did so they kept their thoughts well screened. For

this was a gray Lensman, and very evidently a super-powered individual,

even of that select group whose weakest members were powerful indeed.

If he felt like talking they would listen; but Kinnison did not talk.

He did the listening.

Then, when he had learned everything they knew of the Boskonian base,

he said, "Well, I'd better be buzzing. Clear ether, fellows!" And he

was gone.