But Kinnison was not heading for Helmuth's base--yet. He was splitting
the ether toward Aldebaran instead, as fast as his speedster could
go; and she was one of the fastest things in the galaxy. He had two
good reasons for going there before he attempted Boskone's Grand Base:
first, to try out his skill upon nonhuman intellects--if he could
handle the Wheelmen he was ready to take the far greater hazard;
second, he owed those Wheelmen something, and he did not like to call
in the whole patrol to help him pay his debts. He could, he thought,
handle that base himself.
Knowing exactly where it was, he had no difficulty in finding the
volcanic shaft which formed the entrance to that Aldebaranian base.
Down that shaft his sense of perception sped. He found the lookout
plates and followed their power leads. Gently, carefully, he insinuated
his mind into that of the Wheelman at the board, discovering, to his
great relief, that that monstrosity was no more difficult to handle
than had been the Radeligian observer. Mind or intellect, he found,
were not affected at all by the shape of the brains concerned; quality,
reach, and power were the essential factors.
Therefore, he let himself in and took position in the same room from
which he had been driven so violently. Kinnison examined with interest
the wall through which he had been blown, noting that it had been
repaired so perfectly that he could scarcely find the joints which had
been made.
These Wheelmen, the Lensman knew, had explosives; since the bullets
which had torn their way through his armor and through his flesh had
been propelled by that agency. Therefore, to the mind within his grasp
he suggested "the place where explosives are kept?" and the thought of
that mind flashed to the storeroom in question. Similarly, the thought
of the one who had access to that room pointed out to the Lensman the
particular Wheelman he wanted. It was as easy as that. And since he
took care not to look at any of the weird beings, he gave no alarm.
Kinnison withdrew his mind delicately, leaving no trace of its
occupancy, and went to investigate the arsenal. There he found a few
cases of machine-rifle cartridges, and that was all. Then he went into
the mind of the munitions officer, where he discovered that the heavy
bombs were kept in a distant crater, so that no damage would be done by
any possible explosion.
"Not quite as simple as I thought," Kinnison ruminated. "But there's a
way out of that, too."
There was. It took an hour or so of time; and he had to control two
Wheelmen instead of one, but he found that he could do that. When
the munitions master took out a bomb-scow after a load of H.E., the
crew had no idea that it was anything except a routine job. The only
Wheelman who would have known differently, the one at the lookout
board, was the other whom Kinnison had to keep under control. The scow
went out, got its load, and came back. Then, while the Lensman was
flying out into space, the scow dropped down the shaft. So quietly was
the whole thing done that not a creature in that whole establishment
knew that anything was wrong until it was too late to act--and then
none of them knew anything at all. Not even the crew of the scow
realized that they were dropping too fast.
Kinnison didn't know what would happen if a mind--to say nothing of two
of them--died while in his mental grasp, and he did not care to find
out. Therefore, a fraction of a second before the crash, he jerked free
and watched.
The explosion and its consequences did not look at all impressive from
the Lensman's coign of vantage. The mountain trembled a little, then
subsided noticeably. From its summit there erupted an unimportant
little flare of flame, some smoke, and an insignificant shower of rock
and débris.
However, when the scene had cleared there was no longer any shaft
leading downward from that crater; a floor of solid rock began almost
at its lip. Nevertheless, the Lensman explored thoroughly all the
region where the stronghold had been, making sure that the clean-up had
been one-hundred-per-cent effective.
Then, and only then, did he point the speedster's streamlined nose
toward Star Cluster AC 257-4736.
* * * * *
In his hidden retreat so far from the galaxy's crowded suns and worlds,
Helmuth was in no enviable or easy frame of mind. Four times he had
declared that that accursed Lensman, whoever he might be, must be
destroyed, and had mustered his every available force to that end, only
to have his intended prey slip from his grasp as effortlessly as a
droplet of mercury eludes the clutching fingers of a child.
That Lensman, with nothing except a speedster and a bomb, had taken and
had studied one of Boskone's new battleships, thus obtaining for his
patrol the secret of cosmic energy. Abandoning his own vessel, then
crippled and doomed to capture or destruction, he had stolen one of the
ships searching for him and in it he had calmly sailed to Velantia,
right through Helmuth's screen of blockading vessels. He had in some
way so fortified Velantia as to capture six more Boskonian battleships.
In one of those ships he had won his way back to the Prime Base of the
patrol, with information of such immense importance that it had robbed
the Boskonian organization of its then overwhelming superiority.
More, he had found or had developed new items of equipment which,
save for Helmuth's own success in obtaining them, would have given the
patrol a definite and decisive superiority over Boskonia. Now both
sides were again equal, except for that Lensman and--the Lens.
Helmuth still quailed inwardly whenever he thought of what he had
undergone at the Arisian barrier, and he had given up all thought of
securing the secret of the Lens by force or from Arisia. But there must
be other ways of getting it----
And just then there came in the urgent call from Boyssia II, followed
by the stunningly successful revolt of the hitherto innocuous
Blakeslee, culminating as it did in the destruction of Helmuth's every
Boyssian device of vision or of communication. Blue-white with fury,
the Boskonian high chief flung his net abroad to take the renegade; but
as he settled back to await results a thought struck him like a blow
from a fist: Blakeslee _was_ innocuous. He never had had, did not now
and never would have, the cold nerve and the sheer, dominating power he
had just shown. Toward what conclusion did that fact point?
The furious anger disappeared from Helmuth's face as though it had
been wiped therefrom with a sponge, and he became again the coldly
calculating mechanism of flesh and blood that he ordinarily was. This
conception changed matters entirely. This was not an ordinary revolt of
an ordinary subordinate. The man had done something which he could not
possibly do. So what? The Lens again. Again that accursed Lensman, the
one who had somehow learned really to _use_ his Lens!
"Wolmark, call every vessel at Boyssia base," he directed, crisply.
"Keep on calling them until some one answers. Get whoever is in charge
there now and put him on me here."
A few minutes of silence followed, then Vice Commander Krimsky
reported in full everything that had happened and told of the
threatened destruction of the base.
"You have an automatic speedster there, have you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Turn over command to the next in line, with orders to move to the
nearest base, taking with him as much equipment as is possible. Caution
him to leave on time, however, for I very strongly suspect that it is
now too late to do anything to prevent the destruction of the base.
You, alone, take the speedster and bring away the personal files of the
men who went with Blakeslee. A speedster will meet you at a point to be
designated later and relieve you of the records."
* * * * *
An hour passed--two, then three.
"Wolmark! Blakeslee and the hospital ship have vanished, I presume?"
"They have." The underling, expecting a verbal flaying, was greatly
surprised at the mildness of his chief's tone and at the studious
serenity of his face.
"Come to the center." Then, when the lieutenant was seated, "I do not
suppose that you as yet realize what--or rather, who--it is that is
doing this?"
"Why, Blakeslee is doing it, of course."
"I thought so, too, at first. That was what the one who really did it
wanted us to think."
"It must have been Blakeslee. We saw him do it, sir. How could it have
been any one else?"
"I do not know. I do know, however, and so should you, that he could
not have done it. Blakeslee, of himself, is of no importance whatever."
"We'll catch him, sir, and make him talk. He can't get away."
"You will find that you will not catch him and that he can get away.
Blakeslee alone, of course, could not do so, any more than he could
have done the things he apparently did do. No, Wolmark, we are not
dealing with Blakeslee."
"Who then, sir?"
"Haven't you deduced that yet? The Lensman, fool--the same Lensman
who has been thumbing his nose at us ever since he took one of our
first-class battleships with a speed boat and a firecracker."
"But--great blinding rockets, how?"
"Again I admit that I do not know--yet. The connection, however,
is quite evident--thought. Blakeslee was thinking thoughts utterly
beyond him. The Lens comes from Arisia. The Arisians are masters of
thought--of mental forces and processes incomprehensible to any of us.
These are the elements which, when fitted together, will give us the
complete picture."
"Still I don't see how they fit."
"Neither do I--yet. However, it should be clear to you that we do not
want that Lensman thinking such thoughts as that into this base."
"We certainly do not. However, surely he can't trace----"
"Just a moment! The time has come when it is no longer safe to say what
that Lensman cannot do. Our communicator beams are hard and tight, yes.
But any beam can be tapped if enough power be applied to it, and any
beam that can be tapped can be traced. I expect him to visit us here,
and we shall be prepared for his visit. That is the reason for this
conference with you. Here is a device which generates a field through
which no thought can penetrate. I have had this device for some time,
but for obvious reasons have not released it. Here are the diagrams and
complete constructional data. Have a few hundred of them made with all
possible speed, and see to it that every being upon this planet wears
one continuously. Impress upon every one, and I will also, that it is
of the utmost importance that absolutely continuous protection be
maintained, even while changing batteries.
"Experts have been working for some time upon the problem of protecting
the entire planet with such a screen, and there is some little hope of
success in the near future; but individual protection will still be of
the utmost importance. We cannot impress it too forcibly upon every
one that every man's life is dependent upon each one maintaining his
thought-screen in full operation at all times. That is all."
* * * * *
When the messenger brought in the personal files of Blakeslee and the
other deserters, Helmuth and his psychologists went over them with
minutely painstaking care. The more they studied them the clearer it
became that the chief's conclusion was the correct one. Some one had,
in some way, brought an extraordinary mental pressure to bear.
Reason and logic told Helmuth that the Lensman's only purpose in
attacking the Boyssian base was to get a line on Grand Base; that
Blakeslee's flight and the destruction of the base were merely
diversions to obscure the real purpose of the visit; that the Lensman
had staged that theatrical performance especially to hold him, Helmuth,
while his beam was being traced, and that was the only reason why
the visiset was not sooner put out of action; and, finally, that the
Lensman had scored another clean hit.
He, Helmuth himself, had been caught flat-footed. His face hardened
and his jaw set at the thought. But he had not been taken in. He was
forewarned and he would be ready, for he was coldly certain that Grand
Base and he himself were the real objectives of the Lensman. That
Lensman knew full well that any number of ordinary bases, ships, and
men could be destroyed without damaging, materially, the Boskonian
cause.
Steps must be taken to make Grand Base as impregnable to mental
forces as it already was to physical ones. Otherwise, it might well
be that even Helmuth's own life would presently be at stake, and that
life was a thing precious indeed. Therefore, council after council
was held; every contingency that could be thought of was brought up
and discussed; every possible precaution was taken. In short, every
resource of Grand Base was devoted to the warding off of any possible
mental threat which might be forthcoming.
* * * * *
Kinnison approached that star cluster with care. Small though it was,
as cosmic groups go, it yet was composed of some hundreds of stars and
an unknown number of planets. Any one of those planets might be the
one he sought, and to approach it unknowingly might prove disastrous.
Therefore, he slowed down to a crawl and crept up, light year by light
year, with his ultra-powered detectors fanning out before him to the
limit of their unimaginable reach.
He had more than half expected that he would have to search that
cluster, world by world; but in that, at least, he was pleasantly
disappointed. One corner of one of his plates began to show a dim
glow of detection. A bell tinkled and Kinnison directed his most
powerful master plate into the region indicated. This plate, while of
very narrow field, had tremendous resolving power and magnification;
and in it he saw that there were eighteen small centers of radiation
surrounding one vastly larger one.
There was no doubt then as to the location of Helmuth's base, but there
arose the question of approach. The Lensman had not considered the
possibility of a screen of lookout ships. If they were close enough
together so that their electromagnetics had even a fifty-per-cent
overlap, he might as well go back home. What were those outposts,
and exactly how closely were they spaced? He observed, advanced, and
observed again; computing finally that, whatever they were, they were
so far apart that there could be no possibility of any electro overlap
at all. He could get between them easily enough. He wouldn't even have
to baffle his flares.
They could not be guards at all, Kinnison concluded, but must be simply
outposts, set far outside the solar system of the planet they guarded;
not to ward off one-man speedsters, but to warn Helmuth of the possible
approach of a force large enough to threaten the Grand Base of Boskonia.
Closer and closer Kinnison flashed, discovering that the central
object was indeed a base, startling in its immensity and completely
and intensively fortified; and that the outposts were huge, floating
fortresses, practically stationary in space relative to the sun of the
solar system they surrounded. The Lensman aimed at the center of the
imaginary square formed by four of the outposts and drove in as close
to the planet as he dared. Then, going inert, he set his speedster
into an orbit--he did not care particularly about its shape, provided
that it was not too narrow an ellipse--and cut off all his power. He
was now safe from detection. Leaning back in his seat and closing his
eyes, he hurled his sense of perception into and through the massed
fortifications of Grand Base.
For a long time he did not find a single living creature. He traversed
hundreds of miles, perceiving only automatic machinery, bank after
towering, mile-square bank of accumulators, and remote-controlled
projectors and other weapons and apparatus. Finally, however, he came
to Helmuth's dome; and in that dome he received another severe shock.
The personnel in that dome were to be numbered by the hundreds, but he
could not make mental contact with any one of them. He could not touch
their minds at all; he was stopped cold. Every member of Helmuth's band
was protected by a thought-screen as effective as the Lensman's own!
Around and around the planet the speedster circled, while Kinnison
struggled with this new and entirely unexpected setback. This looked
as though Helmuth knew what was coming. Helmuth was nobody's fool,
Kinnison knew; but how could he possibly have suspected that a mental
attack was in the book? Perhaps he was just playing safe. If so, the
Lensman's chance would come. Men would be careless; batteries weakened
and would have to be changed.
But this hope was also vain, as continued watching revealed that each
battery was listed, checked, and timed. Nor was any screen released,
even for an instant, when its battery was changed; the fresh power
source being slipped into service before the weakening one was
disconnected.
"Well, that proves that Helmuth _knows_," Kinnison cogitated, after
watching vainly several such changes. "He's a wise old bird. The guy
really has jets. I still don't see what I did that could have put him
wise to what was going on."
* * * * *
Day after day the Lensman studied every detail of construction,
operation, and routine of that base, and finally an idea began to dawn.
He shot his attention toward a barracks he had inspected frequently of
late, but stopped, irresolute.
"Uh-uh, Kim, maybe better not," he advised himself. "Helmuth's mighty
quick on the trigger, to figure out that Boyssian thing so fast----"
His projected thought was sheared off without warning, thus settling
the question definitely. Helmuth's big apparatus was at work; the whole
planet was screened against thought.
"Oh, well, probably better, at that," Kinnison went on arguing with
himself. "If I'd tried it out maybe he'd have got onto it and laid me
a stymie next time, when I really need it."
Since he had accomplished everything that he could do for the time
being, he went free and hurled his speedster toward Earth, now distant
indeed. Several times during that long trip he was sorely tempted to
call Haynes through his Lens and get things started; but he always
thought better of it. This was altogether too important a thing to
be sent through so much subether, or even to be thought about except
inside an absolutely thought-tight room. And besides, every waking hour
of even that long trip could be spent very profitably in digesting and
correlating the information he had obtained and in mapping out the
salient features of the campaign that was to come. Therefore, before
time began to drag, Kinnison landed at Prime Base and was granted
instant audience with Port Admiral Haynes.
"Mighty glad to see you, son," Haynes greeted the young Lensman
cordially, as he sealed the room thought-tight. "Since you came in
under your own power, I assume that you are here to make a constructive
report?"
"Better than that, sir. I'm here to start something in a big way. I
know at last where their Grand Base is, and have detailed plans of it.
I think that I know who and where Boskone is. I know where Helmuth is,
and I have worked out a plan whereby, if it works, we can wipe out that
base, Boskone, Helmuth, and all the lesser master minds, at one wipe."
"Holy jumping rockets!" For the first time since Kinnison had known him
the old man lost his poise. He leaped to his feet and seized Kinnison
by the arm. "I knew you were good, but not _that_ good! The Arisians
gave you the treatments you wanted, then?"
"They sure did," and the younger man reported as briefly as possible
everything that had happened, then outlined the plan upon which he had
been working so long.
"I am just as sure that Helmuth is Boskone as I can be of anything
that can't be proved," Kinnison declared, bending over a huge chart
and sketching rapidly. "Helmuth speaks for Boskone, and nobody else
ever does, not even Boskone himself. None of the other big shots know
anything about Boskone or ever heard him speak; but they all jump
through their hoops when Helmuth, 'speaking for Boskone,' cracks the
whip. And I couldn't get a trace of Helmuth ever taking anything up
with any higher-ups. Therefore, I am dead certain that when we get
Helmuth we get Boskone.
* * * * *
"But that's going to be a real job of work. I scouted his headquarters
from stem to gudgeon, as I told you; and Grand Base is absolutely
impregnable as it stands. I never imagined anything like it. It makes
Prime Base here look like a deserted cross roads after a hard winter.
They've got screens, pits, projectors, accumulators, all on a gigantic
scale. In fact, they've got everything. But you can get all that from
the tape. I have learned definitely that we cannot take them by any
possible direct frontal attack. Even if we attacked with every ship and
mauler we've got throughout the galaxy they could stand us off. And
they can match us, ship for ship. We'd never get near that base at all
if they knew that we were coming."
"Well, if it's such an impossible job, what----"
"I'm coming to that. It is impossible as it stands; but there's a good
chance that I'll be able to soften Grand Base up. You know, like a
worm--bore from within. Anyway, that's the only possible way to do it,
so I've got to try it. You'll have to put detector nullifiers on every
ship assigned to the job, but that'll be easy. I would suggest sending
all the maulers and first-class battleships we've got, but you will,
of course, work that out later."
"The important thing, as I gather it, is timing."
"Absolutely to the minute, since I won't be able to communicate, once I
get inside their thought-screens. How long will it take to concentrate
everything we've got and put it in that cluster?"
"Seven weeks--eight at the outside."
"Plus two for allowances. QX. At exactly Hour 20, ten weeks from
to-day, let every projector of every vessel that you can possibly get
there cut loose on that base with everything they can pour in. Where's
that other print? Here--twenty-six main objectives, you see. Blast
them all, simultaneously to the second. If they all go down, the rest
will be possible. If not, it will be just too bad. Then work along
these lines here, straight from those twenty-six stations to the dome,
blasting everything as you go. Make it last exactly fifteen minutes,
not a minute more or less. If, by fifteen minutes after twenty, the
main dome hasn't surrendered by cutting its screens, blast that, too,
if you can. It'll take a lot of blasting, I'm afraid. From then on you
and the fleet commander will have to do whatever is appropriate to the
occasion."
"Your plan doesn't cover that, apparently. Where will you be? How will
_you_ be fixed--if the main dome does not cut its screens?"
"I'll be dead, and you'll be just starting the damnedest war that this
galaxy ever saw."