Part 5

The meter in Lane's ship read forty. Forty miles per second. Dead ahead was the lacery of the star field, clustered around the tininess of black that was the meteor of the machine. Somewhere in the invisibility of space was Stellor Downing, coming this way.

He knew, because his detector said so.

This was not only a test of operator's skill, but of technical superiority, too. Detectors were not calibrated to the last foot of distance, and he who had the best capability in the art of tuning a detector knew better where the other man was at any time.

But it was also necessary to judge your opponent's error. For a single error would destroy both.

Downing's ship came. It was there and it was gone. Missed by a matter of feet.

And yet not a bead of sweat came. Neither had given ground. Lane grinned inwardly as his ship slowed for the turn. Dead ahead was the sealed door to the machine. He touched the button on his drive-rod, and the dymodine flared forth, boring down the shaft and driving great scintillating clouds of super-heated gases up from the bowels of the meteor. The machine was blasted.

"You stinking opportunist," snarled Downing.

"Mad?"

"That was--"

"One step ahead of you."

"You haven't won--"

"Only succeeded. Now we can fight this out for good. Really want to play, Stellor?"

"I'll run you right into that hole in the meteor," snarled Downing.

The two tiny ships approached on a converging course. Collision course, it was, and somewhere far ahead there was the meteor again. Downing was on the spaceward side, and edging sidewise into Lane's course. Lane was pinched between meteor and Downing; edging outward into Stellor's course and calculated to miss the meteor by several yards--if he did not give.

At fifty miles per second they rocketed forward, approaching one another, and telling each other what was going to happen next.

* * * * *

The communicator in Thompson's ship told the story. Thompson heard it, and Toralen Ki understood it from Thompson's mind.

"They--Stop them!"

"I cannot," replied Thompson, with a smile.

"You must. They are necessary to our plan."

"Plan?"

"I am going to give up my intellect. Lane and Downing are emotional and psychological opposites. In one great burst of mental energy, my intellect will be expended. The shock wave from my mind will energize their minds. Their intellects will merge, making them emotional twins and psychological equals, each with the double power gained by joining with the other. They must willingly submit to this mental combining, for then the wave of energy from their minds in twin transfer will awaken every human in the Solar sector of the Galaxy."

"You're asking them to give up their identities."

"I am. And they must."

"They will never do it."

"You are stalling for time. Order them to cease. If either of them is killed, our plan may fail completely. Both of them are of the highest order of intellect--and of opposite psychology. That is necessary--order them to stop--_immediately_!"

Thompson laughed.

"I am willing to die for civilization. They should--" Toralen Ki looked at Thompson, and his eyes widened in wonder, fear, and finally horror.

"You are under control--the Loard-vogh!"

Thompson smiled affably. "The Terran known as Billy Thompson left this body when the machine was blasted," he said. "Previously I could but urge and draw him into agreement with me. And you, Toralen Ki, are also necessary to the plan."

Thompson's one hundred and eighty pounds of fine body came forward. Thirty-seven pounds of Little Man shrank back in fear. Not fear of life--but fear for civilization.

And as Thompson's body reached for Toralen Ki, the radiation alarm blared. It registered; dymodines had been fired and simultaneous hits had been made.

Toralen Ki's free hand snapped the power of the telementor over full. Physical weakling though he was, he was aided mentally by the power in the mental transfer machine. He invaded Thompson's mind and fought the Loard-vogh intelligence that he found there.

Waves of mental energy spewed forth, and Hotang Lu came running to aid his friend. Stricken rigid, Thompson almost ceased to breathe; his heart faltered. For Toralen Ki and the alien Loard-vogh were using all of Billy Thompson's mind against each other, trying to drive the other out, calling upon more and more, even to the point of short-circuiting some of the voluntary sectors. It was battle, silent and fierce.

And the waves of mental energy spread in a vast radiation pattern as Toralen Ki and the Loard-vogh fought for the possession of Billy Thompson's mind and body.

VIII.

Lindoo entered the crystal palace proudly. Not for Lindoo was the belly-crawling approach to the mighty Vorgan, Lord of All. Lindoo was not a mere stripling; Lindoo was the head of the Board of Universal Strategy, and Lindoo had not only permission, but orders to enter but quickly, and tell but swiftly, anything that might possibly affect the future plans of the Loard-vogh.

Vorgan lifted a hand to silence the one upon the floor, his wish was conveyed by a man-at-arms, since the one on the floor was flat on his face, as befitted one of the lower caste.

"Urgent?" asked Vorgan.

"Perhaps urgent, but informative at least," explained Lindoo. "Kregar has made full contact with the Susceptible One."

"Susceptible One? Who may that be? Of what importance?"

"His thoughts are confused. His name is not pronounceable from the mixed thought-pattern. He is important. He was sent to maintain order between the Extremes."

"Ah--and Kregar has succeeded?"

"He has. But not without incident."

"Trouble?"

"Some. The Little Men of Tlembo have, in part, been successful. I curse them as you do, Lord of All. Yet the Loard-vogh must prepare and be always prepared for resistance. It is written that smooth sailing is a vain hope. The Little Men have carried out their intent. They have succeeded in harnessing the Extremes together--for a time. They have succeeded in destroying the suppressor--which is why Kregar was able to control the mind of the Susceptible One. Kregar is brilliant, Lord of All. Kregar deserves attention."

"If Kregar earns it, he will get it. I am not unjust, nor has any Loard-vogh been unjust. Tell me--his brilliancy?"

"Kregar learned of the rivalry through the Susceptible One. Through the latter, Kregar was able to set one Extreme against the other, fighting a mad duel to ascertain the better man. The intellectual apex, the Little Man known as Toralen Ki, the key to their future, is now being attacked by the Susceptible One, through Kregar's control."

"Excellent. And the outcome?"

"Obvious. Toralen Ki will die. So will his cohort Hotang Lu. Thus dies those who understand their intellectual limitations and the will to lift others above them. The Extremes, upon whom the Little Men pinned their hopes, will be split forever. One will certainly die--perhaps both."

"It is best. Shall we then attack the Planet of Terror?"

"It will not be necessary. Their possible danger to us is over."

Vorgan smiled, and he looked almost benign. He was a tall man, bearded, with a full head of hair that tufted white in patches. His ancestry? His classification? It is hard to say. He was vertebrate. He was warm-blooded. He was intelligent and he was more than dextrous with his hands. Both hands. He was also dextrous with his mind. The Lord of All had not become Lord of All because of his heritage, his faith in deity, or his sheer ruthlessness. All helped, but the Lord of All was ruler because of his ability to rule.

"I'll witness the final act," he said.

"The reason I came--" nodded Lindoo. "Kregar is working madly, and yet there is interest there. It will be enlightening. For even the Susceptible One is most difficult."

* * * * *

The Loard-vogh at the instrument was sweating profusely. His hands were clenched, and blood ran from the center of the right fist where his fingernails had pierced his palm. His entire frame was tense, and his eyes were half-closed.

Vorgan looked, nodded, and spoke freely to the recorder beside Kregar. The Lord of All knew that the operative was concentrated beyond all physical stimuli. "The details, Neckal?"

"Lord of All, the battle progresses favorably. The Extremes--they are fighting each other. As you entered, the Susceptible One's mind indicated that there might have been a culmination to their feud. Two of their weapons have been discharged in a location that makes us believe that simultaneous death may have taken place. Toralen Ki is fighting for his life--"

Vorgan laughed. "Thirty-odd pounds against six times that mass! Lindoo, your operator has done well."

"Naturally," said Lindoo proudly. He could afford to be proud; he had picked Kregar.

"Yet I feel that we should do something about the Planet of Terror."

"You think--?"

"Sending out another suppressor will do no good."

"You are certain?"

"Not entirely. I just fear them. It is good sense to fear a strong enemy, Lindoo. We, of course, shall conquer, but far better to find them easily beaten than to lose ten billion of Loard-vogh's finest."

"The master plan does not call for invasion of that sector for twenty-four hundred years."

"I should hate to have my ultimate offspring cast slurs at my memory--and perhaps erect a statue to throw excrement at."

"But one cannot cover all dangers--"

"I know. Yet let us wait. It will depend upon Kregar's success."

Neckal spoke: "The battle progresses."

Vorgan frowned. "Why or how can one so small defend himself against one of the Planet of Terror?"

"The Little Man is agile and the Terran is clumsy."

Lindoo nodded. "We may both curse and praise that. If the Terran were less clumsy, he might well be more difficult for Kregar."

"Toralen Ki also has mental amplification."

Kregar's hands opened and closed convulsively. Once they clutched at a space near his belt, but closed as though in futility--what he sought was not there. He reached forward, and only Neckal's quick action in turning Kregar around slightly prevented the Loard-vogh from clutching a delicate adjustment of the instrument through which Kregar worked.

Lindoo smiled. "It is written that a good big man will always conquer a good small man, my Lord of All."

"What lies between the Loard-vogh and the Planet of Terror?"

"Ten thousand light-leagues of space."

"A most dangerous spearhead--is it not?"

"It might be more than dangerous. To fight a war on many fronts is death. To warn a thousand races between the Loard-vogh and Terra might be the balance."

"Then we must hope," said Vorgan. "And only as a last resort will we drive forward."

"Face the fact," smiled Lindoo. "Kregar has--will have soon--the Little Man in his power. The cohort of the Little Man comes next. Dispose of them and the Planet of Terror will never know what it missed, in spite of the destruction of the suppressor. If nothing more than that happens, we are still safe. The Extremes fight one another--or fought one another. One or both of them may be dead. Grant the impossible and assume that Kregar is not successful and that Toralen Ki and Hotang Lu escape. Without the Extremes, releasing the mental torpor of the Planet of Terror will be most difficult.

"Now," continued Lindoo, with a very superior smile, "we grant the complete failure of our plans. All escape. Toralen Ki explains his plan to the Extremes. Have you any idea of sheer rivalry? Then consider your own attitude upon being asked to relinquish your identity to your most bitter rival."

Vorgan nodded. "How simple it would have been to wipe out all Tlembans so many hundreds of years ago instead of permitting those few to escape. I curse Mangare and I think I will erect a statue to his dishonor, that all Loard-vogh may spit at he who was not thorough."

* * * * *

Kregar's muscles tensed, wrapped him in knots, and his head jerked to one side in a spasm of pain. His eyes opened, glazed. They stayed open--wide and glassy.

Slowly he started, and with accelerated motion, he toppled to the floor. His frame went into one spasm, and he curled convulsively over his stomach. Then he stretched out straight and stiff.

"Dead," said Neckal, frantically.

"Dead?" echoed Lindoo.

"What happened?" asked Vorgan in a hollow voice.

"He failed."

"Failed?"

"How?"

"We may never know. But the failure was complete."

The Lord of All scowled. "Lindoo, plan the attack upon the Planet of Terror!"

"Yes, Lord of All. We shall strike Terra as soon as our forces can be deployed. It will take time, but we shall move with high speed."

"A word of caution, Lindoo. If they do not embark upon the Plan of the Little Men, merely hold our spearhead force in everlasting readiness. I dislike this attack, though our numbers permit it. I'd prefer to stay closer to the Master Plan. But--if they change, attack!"

Vorgan returned to his throne room, to ascend his crystal seat. He waved for the serf upon the floor to continue, and the man-at-arms conveyed the Lord of All's desire because the serf still had his face to the floor.

IX.

Hotang Lu came at the call of his fellow. He saw the tableau. Thompson stricken rigid with mental effort, and Toralen Ki, tense and firm, before him. The Little Man's eyes were closed lightly, and his hands were clenched tight. Every muscle was tight in the mental effort, trying to drive the Loard-vogh out of Thompson's mind.

The waves of mental energy spread. Invisible and silent, they were not undetectable, for the men in the ships felt the waves of mental bleakness and strife and knew a deep and unreasoning fear.

Toralen Ki fought--and Hotang Lu stood by. To connect himself into the mental hookup at this point might destroy the balance. To destroy the balance might permit the hated Loard-vogh to enter, and no matter how brief the entry, it would be fatal.

So he waited, alert and ready to snap the transmentor over his head if Toralen Ki failed. He would give the Loard-vogh no chance to get set again; he would strike quickly while the Loard-vogh was still recovering from the headlong success. For in the moment of mental victory, the Loard-vogh's mind would be reeling forward like a man forcing a door that suddenly gives way before him.

* * * * *

Thompson's frame was rigid, his eyes open but glassy and--but they were not vacant. They were ablaze with an unreal light, the conflict in the helpless mind behind the eyes energized them.

But--the machine was destroyed.

And--there were waves of mental energy in the Terran's mind.

The conflict raged, and despite the helplessness of the Terran's mind and control, there was the untouchable subconscious that told him that he must fight for the beliefs he had always held.

His faltering breath strengthened. His rigid muscles freed, slightly, and the creases of sheer pain left his forehead. Still in fog, his mind scanned the mental data. Two forces struggled for control--of _his_ mind. The thought came:

_Hurl them out!_

But one was--friendly--fighting for him.

The other was alien, inimical.

And with an effort of will, Thompson set his mind against the Loard-vogh, and with the efforts of Toralen Ki and Hotang Lu, plus their mental amplifier, Thompson hurled his weight of mind against the invader.

Thompson was annoyed, confused and not too logical. To his mind, this was sheer pain, caused by the Loard-vogh. He hurled his hatred at the distant alien.

And the pressure of the conflict died. Thompson's body resumed its natural looseness, and the light of reason returned to his eyes. He smiled his usual smile and relaxed, breathing hard, and rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands.

The severe headache was leaving with noticeable rapidity. He faced the Little Men with an attitude of power and great will.

Hotang Lu stood in amazement.

Toralen Ki relaxed slightly also. They still faced one another, Little Man and Terran. But in their attitude was a vague feeling that they were fighting side by side.

And Hotang Lu understood. Toralen Ki intended to excite the minds of Lane and Downing by forcing them, psychological opposites, into mental contact. And he, Toralen Ki, was right now in bitter conflict with his own mental opposite--the Loard-vogh. The mental energies released in Thompson's mind had given the Terran the full and perfect control of his own mental ability.

They opened their eyes, both of them.

"Won," said Thompson, wiping his brow.

Toralen Ki inspected the Terran carefully. "You know, now?"

Billy nodded. "The rest of Terra and Sol must be excited. Wait--I must order Lane and Downing to stop."

The planetoid loomed larger and larger, and Downing crowded Lane closer. On approaching courses, it was becoming evident that the conjunction of courses would occur simultaneously with their arrival at the huge meteor. And yet Downing was the better off, for if he and Lane kept their courses doggedly true, Lane's ship would hit the meteor first. The carom, of course, would drive the flaming remnants of Cliff Lane's craft upward into Stellor Downing's ship, with the resulting injury to the latter.

Downing jacked up the magnification of his course-scanner with a twitch of his free hand. A rounded knoll of rock covered the scanner plate, and the cross-hairs that marked Stellor's course were just above and just to the left of the top of the knoll. A full-power shot with the dymodine in the right place--

And the caroming ship would deflect sidewise instead of straight up!

Stellor Downing trained the dymodine projector until the tiny circle in the course-scanner was still farther to the left of the top of the knoll than his ship's course.

The course-scanner in Cliff Lane's ship told him that he was heading for the knoll of rock. It would be a slicing blow, with Cliff's ship bounding up into Downing's craft. That much he knew.

Unless he did something.

He could drive up into Downing's ship right now. But that would be no solution as to whom was the better man. That would get Terra two corpses, but finely divided ones.

He could swerve.

And give Stellor Downing the right to say that he, Cliff Lane, had been bluffed?

Now if he were Stellor--?

Cliff Lane's dymodine sight was centered on the cross-hair of the scanner. He trained it slightly to the right and down, and then he touched the trigger.

* * * * *

Both dymodines blasted at once. Both beams raved out from positions one above the other, and both beams hit the knoll of rock in slightly different places. The splatter of energy from the coruscation ahead blinded both men, and set up shock-interference in the scanners.

A gout of flaming gas burst from the hit.

And within a few milliseconds of the hit, Cliff Lane arrived, with Stellor Downing almost on top of him.

* * * * *

Downing's ship hit the gout of flaming gas, and the velocity of ship was high. It deflected upward slightly, bending the spine of the little fleeter, rending a few plates, and dazing the Martian.

Lane's ship hit the flaming gas--which was almost homogenous where Lane passed through. The Venusite's nose plates dinged in slightly from the metal-to-gas impact. Right into the hit went Cliff Lane.

And out through the scar on the far side went the Venusite, roaring off in a halo of gases from the explosion.

They snapped radio sets.

"Well?" grinned Cliff saucily.

"Wise, aren't you?" grunted Downing.

"Try it again," advised Cliff. "I'm still spaceworthy."

"I'm buckled, but still capable," snorted Downing. "I'll be around--"

The ringing of the emergency alarm interrupted them. Thompson's voice came through. "Stop--at once!"

"Why?" asked Lane insolently.

"Don't even answer," scorned Downing.

"Stop, you fools. Stop--or Patricia Kennebec may die!"

Downing and Lane came around in tight arcs. As one they met on adjoining courses and raced like madmen for Thompson's command. They magnetted their ships beside the spacelock, breached it with the outside controls, and entered. They sent the door to Thompson's cabin slamming back against the wall and strode in.

"What's all this about Pat Kennebec?"

Thompson smiled. "It was about the only way I could stop that foolishness."

"Look, Billy, you've been interfering--"

"Don't be an idiot, Lane. Frankly I'm sick and tired of that schoolboy bickering of yours. As far as I'm concerned you can both go out and kill one another. But this is bigger than I am and it should be bigger than you are. Your job isn't through. We thought it was, but it is not. You, in fact, are just beginning."

"Quit talking in riddles and tell us what goes on."

"That machine restricted mental energy. It has been restricting mental ability for this entire sector of the Galaxy for twenty thousand years. It has been destroyed. But until the minds of Solarians are excited by a shock wave of mental energy, they will not have the use of their intellects fully and freely. You two are mental and psychological opposites, and the shock excitation of your minds in mental contact will excite the minds of all men." He turned to Toralen Ki and said: "I'm puzzled. There was sufficient mental conflict between you and the Loard-vogh to give me my release. Why hasn't it taken care of these two wildmen?"

"You mean the re-radiation from your mind operating on theirs as their radiation will free the minds of the rest?"

"Right. Why?"

"Lack of sympathetic tuning," explained Toralen Ki. "Your mind is unlike mine, and unlike the Loard-vogh known as Kregar, the one we fought and killed. Yet since you were at the focal point of the mental strife, your mind, untuned as it was, was excited by sheer brute force, so to speak. Selectivity could not keep out such sheer power. But selectivity would and did prevent re-radiation of the mental energy. You, therefore, have been freed, but no one else."

"Too bad," said Thompson critically. "It might have shoved some sense into their thick skulls."

"Hey!" exploded Lane. "He's talking to the Little Guy."

"How come, Billy?"

"You mean talking to him? Well, I was given mental release by a bit of a battle between Toralen Ki, here, and one of the Loard-vogh who was trying to control my mind."

"Give us more. You sound like a synopsis."

Thompson explained.

"Well, but how can you speak with him?"

Billy turned and asked Toralen Ki.

"You're surprised? Just as Lane and Downing will become mental twins, you, Billy Thompson, have gained twinship with my mind. Also that of Kregar, the dead Loard-vogh."

Billy smiled. "Simple enough," he explained to the pair. "After your minds are given release, you'll be able to understand him, too."

Thompson did not explain the twinship idea. Co-operation was one thing to explain, but the concept of accepting one another's personality would have to be given to them by someone who outranked them. Let them wonder--or even better, let them remain in ignorance, on the basis that what they did not know wouldn't harm Terra.

Toralen Ki shook his tiny head and looked puzzled, as well as shamefaced. "I didn't expect this," he said. "The concept of mental struggle between myself and another never occurred to me."

"It saved my neck," grinned Billy.

"And the collective necks of most of the Galaxy. And it is just as well that we didn't energize them, too. The main release for the solar sector must come when they go into the change. Had they gone into the change out here, in Sscantoo, the mental radiation would not have been strong enough to trigger the minds of your fellows near Sol."

Thompson nodded and turned to Lane and Downing. "You two are going to have something to fight--but against, not over. That's been a private fight of yours for years. If you'd like to continue it, you'd better knock off the battle long enough to stop the Loard-vogh cold. Then you can resume personal hostilities and be damned."

"What about this Sscantoo?" asked Lane.