"Small enough for two?"
"I believe so." Her lashes trembled and lowered and she seemed
surprised that they did. "That is if you--if we snuggled close."
"I'm sure we will. Why don't you find out about that room?"
"It seems like a good idea." She blushed and turned to leave.
"I'll need keys, won't I?" he said.
She leaned against him and the keys dropped into his hand. "I'll be
waiting," she whispered. He watched her walk down the aisle and enjoyed
the enticing sway of her hips. Under other circumstances, he might
have considered joining her.
He had the keys! It had worked! He didn't know why, nor did he have
time to think about it. He inserted the key and stepped inside.
"Hi, Jane," sang out the pilot, not turning, assuming he knew who it
was.
Merrol located the autopilot switch and, reaching past the man, turned
it on. With the same motion he whirled the pilot around. "Listen,
friend, don't you want to go back?"
"No. Why should I?" The pilot was startled, but not intimidated.
"Engine trouble or something. You figure it out. I don't care
what it is, as long as we get back." He half-hoped the man would
object--physical action would be a relief. In an emergency, he could
handle the ship himself--it was simpler than a spaceship.
* * * * *
The pilot squinted beyond and behind him. "Engines don't sound so
good," he muttered. He was unexpectedly docile. "Safety first is the
motto of this airline." It was a good rule, but it was questionable
whose safety he was referring to.
The pilot was still having unaccountable difficulty with his
eyes--there was a marked tendency to cross. "Sure, we'll go back," he
said. "Glad you brought it to my attention. But call off your gang,
will you, mister?"
Merrol turned around. He was alone. There was no one behind him, though
the pilot seemed convinced there was.
He had a partial answer to the pilot's strange reaction. He was a
multiple personality and, normally latent, in times of stress the
multi-personality became dominant and impressed itself psychologically
on the observer. And if the mind received the impression of several
men, the eye tried hard to produce evidence that would confirm it.
Not everyone was as successful at self-hypnosis as the pilot, but
the temptation toward it was always there. Now that he thought of
it, men never had laughed at him. Instead they had been respectful.
He apparently had an unsettling effect on those of his own sex he
came in contact with--just how powerful it was, he didn't know yet.
The complete answer would have to await investigation by trained
psychologists.
Women were different. They invariably laughed first--Erica too, in
spite of the general sympathy she must have felt for him. In what did
the difference lie? That too he would have to determine--later.
The pilot looked at him dizzily, beseechingly. Merrol decided he must
be pouring it on, though he felt no different. "Remember, I can get up
here in an awful hurry," said Merrol, "so no tricks." The pilot nodded
and clung helplessly to the controls. He wouldn't cause any trouble.
Merrol raised his arm in a gesture. "Come on, fellows."
As an afterthought, he locked the stewardess in the private compartment
and, as he did so, he could feel the plane swing in a wide arc that
would take them to the station they had started from. The apathetic
dozing passengers didn't even notice.
And then all six of him walked back to his seat and Merrol sat down.