Young Hilton's voice was flat and strained. He made a move as though to
take her hands from his shoulders, but he didn't. He stared across her
red-gold head, at Falken.
"Something had to be done to stamp out the Unregenerates. They're a
barrier to complete peace, a constant trouble. Eric Falken is their
god, as--as Sheila said. If we could trap him, the rest would be easy.
We could cure his people.
"My father couldn't do it himself. He's old, and too well-known. He
sent me, because mine is the only other brain that could stand what I
had to do. My father has trained me well.
"To get me by the psycho-search, my father gave me a temporary brain
pattern. After I was accepted as a refugee, I established mental
contact with him...."
"Mental contact," breathed Falken. "That was it. That's why you were
always so tired, why I couldn't shake pursuit."
"Go on," said Sheila, with a queer gentleness.
Hilton stared into space, without seeing.
"I almost had you in Losangles, Falken, but you were too quick for the
Guards. Then, when we were trapped at Mercury, I tried to make you
sleep. I was leading those ships, too.
"But I was tired, and you fought too well, you and Sheila. After that
we were too close to the Sun. My thought waves wouldn't carry back to
the ships."
He looked at Falken, and then down at Sheila's thin face.
"I didn't know there were people like you," he whispered. "I didn't
know men could feel things, and fight for them like that. In my world,
no one wants anything, no one fights, or tries.... And I have no
strength. I'm afraid."
Sheila's green eyes caught his, compelled them.
"Leave that world," she said. "You see it's wrong. Help us to make it
right again."
In that second, Falken saw what she was doing. He was filled with
admiration, and joy that she didn't really care for Hilton--and then
doubt, that perhaps she did.
Miner Hilton closed his eyes. He struck her hands suddenly away and
stepped back, and his blaster came ready into his hand.
"I can't," he whispered. His lips were white. "My father has taught me.
He trusts me. And I believe in him. I must!"
Hilton looked where the glow of the Sun-child pulsed against ebon rock.
"The Unregenerates won't trouble us any more."
He raised the muzzle of his blaster to his head.
* * * * *
It was then that Falken remembered his was empty. He dropped it and
sprang. He shocked hard against Hilton's middle, struck him down,
clawing for his gun arm. But Hilton was heavy, and strong.
He rolled away and brought his barrel lashing down across Falken's
temple. Falken crouched, dazed and bleeding, in the mud.