"Why, all the village knew it, Master." The boy shook his head. "One had
but to be near Master Jaeger for a time, and he could feel the power,
just as I can feel it now." He shook his head again. "But it is very
strong, Master. You must be one of the ones of truly great power."
Kweiros looked speculatively at Jaeger.
"I understood they were nontelepaths. All the reports agree on that."
"Definitely, sir, they are. They're absolutely mute. Not a trace of
radiation, even when they're close. And they don't receive. You can try
it now, sir. It's just like punching into space itself. No resistance,
no reflection, just nothing."
"Shield?"
"No, sir. Just no indication. Makes me feel as though I were in free
space with a dead drive."
* * *
Kweiros looked for a moment at Jaeger, then sent out a probing thought,
searching for some indication of mental activity from the boy. But there
was nothing. It wasn't anything like a shield, he thought. It seemed
more like an infinite baffle.
But there was some reaction. The boy shrank back in terror.
"Please, Master," he begged. "Do not place me under enchantment." He
held up his hands in a peculiar gesture.
"What made you do that?" Kweiros raised a hand slowly, palm out. "I have
no intention of harming you."
"But I could feel you, trying to cast me under a spell."
"You ... felt me?"
"To be sure, Master, just as I have felt the same power from my master,
Jaeger. But this was far stronger. It hurt. And it seemed as though you
wanted me to do something."
Kweiros nodded. "I think I'm getting an idea," he remarked. "And it
scares me a little. They're not really nontelepathic, any more than the
Kierawelans, for example, are nonvocal. I think we've got something here
that's almost unique in the galaxy." He rubbed his neck. "Excuse me a
few minutes. I want to check something in one of these tapes."
Jaeger nodded and leaned back in his chair, looking curiously at the boy
beside him, then back at his superior, who had selected a tape reel. He
threaded it into the playing heads, put on a headband, and snapped a
switch. Jaeger and the boy watched as Kweiros leaned back.
The officer's face became vacant, then twisted, seeming to reflect
painful mental effort. Slowly, he leaned forward again, touching another
switch. Then, he sank back, to concentrate on his thoughts.
Jaeger looked again at the boy, who was sitting tensely, his hands
gripping the arms of his chair, his eyes fastened fearfully on the
officer before him. As Jaeger watched, Elwar half rose from his chair,
then sank back, his face appearing to mirror Kweiros' efforts.
[Illustration]
At last, Kweiros sat up. Shakily, he removed his headband and snapped
the playback off.
"Long time since I checked that tape," he said. "Pretty rugged stuff,
and highly speculative. Always gives me a headache." He shook his head
as he looked at Elwar.
"And this makes it even worse. It was bad enough as pure speculation,
but we've got something real here. Something rough. For one thing, we
have got a planet where no one but native operatives stand a chance of
working. For another we--" He cupped his chin in his hands and examined
Elwar closely.
"Do you really want to learn the secrets you looked for in the books,
youngster? Do you still want the secrets you first thought you might
learn?"
The boy seemed to withdraw a little. "I have a great fear," he admitted
tremulously.
"You haven't been injured or mistreated, have you?"
"No, Master, but--" Elwar looked toward the door.
"And you won't be," he was told reassuringly. "Now you just go ahead on
back to your quarters."
* * *
As the door closed, Kweiros turned to Jaeger.
"Think we'll put you on special assignment. For the next few cycles,
you'll act as a private tutor. Then you can go back to Main Base with
Elwar while they give him his training."
Jaeger raised his eyebrows. "Yes, sir," he said doubtfully. "You think
the boy will develop?"
Kweiros nodded. "I'm quite sure of it," he said. "And he's got a big job
ahead of him. He may be instrumental in preventing a major disaster." He
waved at the tape reels.
"I got that little tape out just on an off chance," he added. "Didn't
really expect to find anything, but--" He flipped his hands out.
"Anyway, I pulled it." He leaned forward, looking at Jaeger.
"We may have run into a second, or even third growth culture," he said
slowly. "Once, before some ancient war of destruction, the people of
this planet might have been normally telepathic." He closed his eyes for
an instant. "Possibly they were unable to use their telepathic power.
And equally possibly, they could have had a highly developed mechanical
civilization. Something went wrong." He waved at the tape reel.
"In this reconstruction, there's an hypothesis on just such a situation.
Here, a race reaches high development and wrecks itself--leaving no
trace of its accomplishments. Growth starts over from the most meager of
beginnings. Survival becomes a matter of the most bitter conflict, with
everyone becoming a hunter and being hunted in his turn. In this
situation, detection of an enemy becomes vital." He grinned wryly. "Can
you imagine what would happen to someone who radiated his thoughts?"
Jaeger ran a finger over his lips. "He'd be easy to locate," he mused.
"And he'd have a hard time evading an enemy."
"Precisely." Kweiros nodded. "And he'd never be able to approach his
prey. In short, he'd fail to survive. Complete telepathic blankness
would have a high survival value. But an ability to detect mental
radiation would still be a big help." He waved a hand.
"So, a race like this one could evolve. And the author of this tape
extrapolated from there. A normal telepathic reception will be
accompanied, by a slight feedback. A completely black body, however,
will neither radiate nor feed back. It merely absorbs energy and, unless
it's super-imposed on a reflective background, it leaves no trace. Since
nothing in nature other than a telepathic mind can reflect telepathy, no
background would survive for long." He frowned a little.
"Of course, no mind we are familiar with could act as a telepathically
black body, but this author hypothesized a race that could do just
that--plus. There's a further hypothesis of an ability to detect and
localize radiations as such, without bothering to resolve them."
"Sounds like just what we have here," Jaeger admitted.
"It does, doesn't it?" Kweiros nodded. "And there's a further
extrapolation. Some of the members or the elder races have speculated on
a sort of second-order telepathy, undetectable to the normal telepath,
but capable of noting normal radiation. And some of the speculations
seem to make sense--though they're a little confusing. If you don't have
a specific sense, it's difficult to visualize it, or even to speculate
on its presence." He drew a deep breath.
"That leads us into a real problem. Our people roamed around this planet
for several cycles this time. And there may have been others before us,
who didn't record their visits, other than in the minds and legends of
the natives. And there may be other legends from that other, older
culture." He shrugged.
"We picked up what we could on the culture, but we didn't get the full
story on them. And we've probably left a thousand legends behind us,
including that beautiful mess at your station." He grinned.
"Right now, their folklore is loaded with sorcerers, warlocks, wizards,
and what not. After all, whatever their past is, they're primitive now.
So those stories are going to grow and continue. Eventually, long before
they really develop a stabilized ethic, someone's going to collate that
whole mess. And do you know what he'll come up with?"
"Us?"
"Us, yes. Us, in a distorted form." Kweiros nodded emphatically. "They
will come to a full realization that there are advanced entities running
around the cosmos, entities that have all kinds of mysterious powers.
And they'll invent still more powers and characteristics--mostly bad."
He spread his hands, then laid them on the desk in front of him.
* * *
"That way, they could develop a hopeless, planet-wide trauma--a sort of
super inferiority complex--and they could contract on themselves, devote
their time to an intensive study of demonology, and very possibly come
apart at the seams.
"Or, they could do something else. I was watching Elwar while I was
checking that tape. Did you notice anything peculiar?"
"He seemed disturbed."
"As though he were sensing my thoughts?"
"Something like that. But--"
Kweiros nodded. "But I had a shield up. You could detect no trace of
mental action. Right?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's what I thought." Kweiros shook his head and looked closely at
Jaeger.
"Can you imagine," he added, "a primitive race with the power to detect
a galactic by his thoughts? And can you imagine that power developing
until that detection is possible at interstellar ranges, with members
of that race being able to pick up faint impressions from received
thoughts--distorted impressions? And can you imagine that same race,
ignorant of the humanic equations, devoid of a stable ethic,
superstitious, distrustful and fearful of advanced entities? They would
be undetectable by normal telepathic means, you know. And suppose they
were disposed to destroy what they could not understand." He frowned.
Jaeger looked back at him, his eyes becoming wide. Suddenly, his gaze
defocused and he looked aside, to stare unseeingly at the floor.
"Something's got to be done, sir," he said reluctantly.
Kweiros nodded. "Something's got to be done," he agreed. "Of course,
there's another side to the picture. If this race develops and learns,
they'll be just as valuable to the galaxy as they would otherwise be
dangerous." He looked toward the door.
"And our boy out there is one of the few who can help in this situation.
He's going to have to work out counter stories--amusing stories--about
all those magical creatures his people tell about. He's going to have to
hint at the possibilities of close co-ordination and co-operation
between members of his own species. And he's going to have to suggest
the possibility of friendly co-operation between his species and
others." He drew a deep breath.
"And he's going to have to do all this without taking any risk of
exposing the existence of other, more advanced species in the galaxy."
He brushed a hand across his head, then pressed the back of his neck,
kneading the skin.
"These stories of his, he'll have to publish. He'll have to get them
circulated all over his planet, if he can. Possibly we can give him some
indirect help, but he's going to have to carry a good share of the load.
"He knows his own people as we could never hope to. And he'll have to be
thoroughly educated, so he can say what he wants to. And he'll have to
be fully aware of the humanic equations and all their connotations. If
he's to have any direct help, he'll have to choose his helpers from
among his own people, and he'll have to choose carefully." Kweiros
thrust at his temple with the heel of a hand, then shook his head
violently.
"Somehow, he's going to have to accentuate any legends he may be able to
find which present a favorable light on co-ordination and co-operation,
and he'll have to invent more. And all those other legends--the ones
which treat of superstition and destructive force--will have to be
reduced to the realm of the storybook, submerged under a layer of amused
condemnation, and kept there. All these things, that youngster is going
to have to do.
"It's your job to help teach him."
* * * * *
Forell watched his friend closely as the critic laid aside the last
page.
Andorra sat for a moment, his head cocked in thought. Then, he picked up
the last page and looked at it again. Finally, he laid the sheet aside.
He looked at his friend with a wry smile, then picked up his wineglass,
looking at it quizzically.
"Do you always give your own name to one of your characters?"
Forell's grip tightened on the small object in his hand.
"Oh, sure," he said. "Gives me a better identification. If I can get
into the story, it's easier to draw the reader in." He forced a casual
smile. "I'll change that name later, of course."
"I see what you mean." Andorra sipped from his glass.
"You know," he added, "a couple of hours ago, I was almost ready to get
excited about the idea of a cosmos full of super beings. And I even
might have dreamed up something like this myself--and more than half
believed it." He shook his head.
"But when a fantasist like yourself comes up with it, and makes it look
so nicely possible, the idea almost looks foolish. After all, Elwar, if
you actually were the guy in that little sketch of yours, you'd hardly
be asking me to read it, now would you?" He looked down at the papers,
then raised his head again, frowning.
"'He'll have to choose his helpers from among his own people,'" he
quoted. "'All these things, that youngster is going to have to do.'" He
sipped again from his glass, keeping a searching gaze on his friend.
"And on the other hand, if your story here should be true, you just
might be asking me to read it, for one reason or another." He raised his
glass, examining the bright liquid within it.
Elwar tensed, his hand coming part way out of his pocket.
Suddenly, Andorra set the glass down and leaned forward, hands gripping
his knees.
"Tell me, Elwar," he begged, "this isn't a hoax, is it? Surely, no one
could be so warped as to present a friend with something like this and
then to laugh it off?"
Forell drew a deep breath and examined his companion closely. At last,
his left hand relaxed a little.
"It's no hoax," he admitted.
Andorra sighed and leaned back.
"And you can use help? You're asking me?"
He paused, waiting as Forell nodded, then spread his hands.
"You know," he said, "it shouldn't take me too long to fix it so I would
not be missed too much for a few years." He looked at the wall.
"It must be quite a training course."