Part 2

Fred turned the specimen in his hand. It was dense quartzite. Heavy enough, but it lacked the other characteristics.

"What makes you think it isn't uranium?" she demanded furiously.

"I said nothing of the sort." Fred suddenly had the feeling of a clue, especially because of Jo's reaction: again the blankness, again the nervousness.

"I saw it in your face." Jo edged to the end of one table. "Here's today's find. Seedless grapes, each as big as a lemon. Have one." She held out her hand.

_There was nothing in it._

Fred didn't bat an eyelash; he'd grown used to shocks. He merely replied, "No, thanks. Still full from dinner." And then integrated more data.

They finished the tour at her cabin. From the time that the trip started, and until the last few nights, Fred had insisted on "walking the girl home." And each time, before he left her, he'd quasi-seriously propositioned her with a request that the door be left open. It was always shut, very firmly.

Tonight, Fred was grave. Almost curt, he said, "Goodnight. See you in the morning."

"Wait." She smiled. "If you could learn to be as happy as we on this planet, you might find the door open."

He smiled in return. "I'll think about it. Night." Fred strode away, thinking: Jo, you'd make a lousy Mata Hari. But thanks for convincing me I'm sane!

Relief brought emotional reaction; he wanted to laugh, but it was aggressive, humorless laughter, and he couldn't afford it. Instead, he permitted himself the luxury of silent anger. Complete. Total.

* * * * *

When the curtain of fury dissolved, Fred found himself in the recreation area. Unknowingly, he'd wandered there. Unknowingly, he'd arrived at a course of action--

_You won't have a chance to carry it out._

That voice again! It was inside his head. This time, however, Fred straightened, unconsciously, said, "So I was wrong, and we did find intelligent life."

_But not the sort you expected._

"Admitted. It's difficult to believe that a planet is alive."

_Why so? Logically, you animals are the difficult beliefs. Nearly all else in the universe is direct--energy conversion, formation of elements, and the like. You animals require many things to get started: a planet; a fluid medium such as water; and the delicate balance of conditions for food input and waste removal. In a sense, you're parasites._

"Certainly. But why are you trying so hard to convince my friends to be parasites?" Fred stopped for a second, struck by a thought. "Come to think of it, why am I immune?"

_There is always a certain small percentage who have crossed mental patterns, whom we can communicate with. What the others see as desirable, you dislike. If you'll think a moment, you'll realize you've always been that way._

Fred nodded. He was the eternal pessimist surrounded by optimists.

_My desire is simple. I want a population._

"Why?"

_We use animal intelligence. When you die, we absorb the life force directly. It sustains our own._

"In a sense," Fred felt he'd scored, "you also are a parasite. You talk as though there are other sentient planets in the universe."

_There are, though not in great numbers. Our life cycle is similar to yours. We are born in cosmic space of elemental material; we attract animal populations that have evolved on the dead planets, and thereby gain the energy needed to live--just as you live from the lower animals. We even grow old and die after two or three billion years. But I'm young, and this is the first time I've been in this portion of the galaxy--I need a population._

"You seem to know what's in my mind," Fred said calmly, "so I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed."

_No, I need the others here for a little more time; they must be completely convinced of my wonders so they can take the story home. I can do without you, however. Why do you think I've bothered at all to communicate with you?_

Fred's spine was icy. His mouth was dry, and all of the dark shapes that terrified him throughout his youth came home to jibber behind his back. But Fred was a man, and he refused to turn his head, to give in to the fear. "I don't know why."

_I couldn't let you take the ship from my surface. I have no physical control over you, and I can't speak directly to the others, only influence their emotions. While I've delayed you, I've aroused one of them.... Now you have your answer._

* * * * *

There was a step behind him. Expecting Lodgesen, Fred turned, stopped in shock. The 6-1/2-foot, 285-pound bulk of Charlesworth stood poised, then raced forward. Fred hadn't time to get set, bounced when the automaton hit him, fell heavily against the exhibit table. Instantly, Charlesworth had dropped on him. The big man's hands were around Fred's throat.

His vision blurred; little spots of ink crept down over Charlesworth's face; it was too much of an effort to lift his arms and try to push him away.

There was a quick rush of thoughts. Wish you'd stop; it hurts. But what's this? Something cool and heavy in my hand. I suppose I should try it....

When Fred's head cleared, he saw Charlesworth stretched out beside him, his chin split and bleeding. The hunk of quartzite lay between the captain and Fred.

He hadn't the time to be glad he was alive. The others were up; running footsteps were converging on him. He got up, staggered from the room. Then, as strength returned, he raced for the control center.

He almost made it. But Beth suddenly appeared from the opposite end of the corridor. Face contorted in some nameless horror, she screamed a warning, ran towards the door to the center. And Beth was closer.

Agonizingly closer. She'd be there a step ahead of him, and if she got that door locked--With crystal clarity, he knew it meant the end of progress for the human race.

Fred, who was hardly aware of baseball, desperately arched his body into a perfect slide. It got faint cheers from Cobb, Mays, and all the kids who ever played sandlot ball. Beth's feet tangled with Fred's; she stumbled against the door, tripped, and rolled into the corridor.

Fred scrambled inside, locked the door. He was home safe.

He would now bring them all home safe.

He couldn't know that the worst was coming.

* * * * *

Charlesworth gingerly felt his jaw as he walked into the recreation area. "Did you have to clobber me so hard?"

Fred grinned weakly. "What are you complaining about? Did you have to choke me so hard? After three days, I still can't swallow. And I've got a busted toe where I hit that doorway."

"Speaking of which," Beth said, "I've got bruises on my arms and legs."

"I couldn't be feeling better." Jo delivered the line perfectly, broke them up.

"We still have to thank you," Beth said, suddenly serious. "What a nightmare!"

"Not thanks, Beth. I couldn't help myself any more than you. I can imagine what you went through; I suspect it was even worse for Jo."

The pretty blonde was startled. "I haven't said anything--"

"The intensity with which you were attracted," Fred broke in. "I didn't know it at the time, but it was the first clue. Women were bound to be more affected."

Charlesworth fingered his jaw again. "Yeah? _I_ thought it was pretty bad."

"You got the full treatment, John, but only for a few minutes. Nevertheless, woman's nature is far more intimately bound up in the life force than man's. What you felt for a short time might have been equivalent to what the girls felt all the time."

The big man shook his head. "Couldn't take it. I'd break...." His voice trailed away, and he looked guilty at reminding them.

"We have to face it," Beth said.

"How is he?" Jo asked.

"Lodgesen hasn't changed," the captain said gruffly. "He hasn't changed all the time we were in hyper. Just lies in his bunk, crying to go home to mama. It's spooky."

"We'll be home in half a day," Joe said hopefully. "Maybe the psychiatrists can help." Beth and John nodded agreement.

"Possibly, but I don't think so," Fred said. Then a stray wisp of thought brushed his memory--"The eternal pessimist"--made him shudder and hurry on. "From what I remember of psych, he's withdrawn past the point of return. Like so many guys in the physical sciences, he had a streak of insecurity. That's why the categorizing outlook; all data must be fitted into a neat plan. He ran into a bit of data that wouldn't fit; worse, the data turned on him, gave him a sense of security he'd never known. When I jerked us away from the planet, the shock to him must have been similar to the birth trauma. He slipped away from reality. Chances are he'll never come back."

"And the trouble with you guys in the social sciences is too much theorizing on insufficient data!" It was Lodgesen, pale, needing a shave, but otherwise normal.

Charlesworth stood firmly on two feet. "You all right?"

Lodgesen nodded, folded his thin frame into a chair. "I came out of it. Don't know why. All of a sudden, I was back. Like waking up."

"Everything seems to happen suddenly on the USS Taurus," Beth said lightly, "We're glad, Dick."

Things _did_ happen suddenly, Fred thought, too suddenly. I'd better mull this one over.... He got painfully to his feet. "I've still got some work to do before we land. Excuse me." Then, to Lodgesen: "Take it easy. You've had a shock."

"So have you," the other replied with a wolflike grin, "and you may have others in store."

Fred ignored the remark, limped away. But instinctive bells pealed a warning, one he tried to rationalize away. He wasn't having much success.

* * * * *

In his own cabin, Fred paced rapidly, ignoring the pain in his toe. On the view-forward screen, Earth appeared as a sphere. They were so close.... The view-aft screen showed nothing but the emptiness of space. Lodgesen's miraculous recovery had shaken him. It didn't add, and the last time something didn't add, there'd been trouble. Incredible as it seemed, he wasn't really sure they'd lost the planet--

_You didn't. You led me to the population I wanted. I'm getting closer._

Fred trembled, tried to collect himself to fight.

_You can't fight. You've lost already. Observe: even weak contact with the mind of that other animal made it function normally. Soon I'll be close enough to exert full control over the others again._

"What are you going to do?" Fred asked.

_Before I'm through, I shall convince all of the intelligences on your dead planet to join me. They'll know it's a much better, richer world._

"But it isn't!" he almost shrieked. "You can't support that many people."

_True. Many will die. And I'll be able to replenish the energy I've used following you._

"The race will revert to savagery, possibly even lower, to the caves."

_That is not important, except that the life span will drop. This will create more life force for me. You argue in my favor._

* * * * *

Fred was aware of an urgent knocking at the door. He opened it, found Jo leaning weakly against the frame.

"Fred," the girl spoke slowly, "help me ... the nightmare's back ... help all of us." She was crying, and her eyes were caves of dark terror. He held her tightly, and she sagged against him. "I can't hold out ... the others have gone under ... a miracle, Fred--"

_I'll take this one now; I am strong enough._

"... need a mir--" Jo stiffened, spoke firmly. "I'm going back to my friends. If you're silly enough not to want New Earth, I can't help you." She left, striding purposefully.

"Damn you. Damn you!" Fred's voice was hard, cold. Man, the artist, and man, the hunter, stood helpless before this power. But man, the toolmaker--he bent his environment. That was it! The different faces of man, the ambivalent. That was it! The pieces were in place.

"Earth!" he called piercingly. "Earth, you are one like this other planet. Help us!"

_Stop!_ The hated sound beat at him.

And then he heard a new voice, an aged crone: _Can't. Too old._

"This new one will take us from you," Fred went on, "just as you took us from Alpha Centauri IV. Help us now."

_Can't. It would mean my death. All my reserves of life force._

Fred heard noise in the corridor outside. There could be only one reason why they'd come--New Earth would prevent his action by killing him.

Desperate now, Fred tried once more. "Earth, die if you must! Die for the 46 other populations that died for you. Your life is almost over; ours has just begun. You owe us something. We battled our way up from nothingness; you held us back. Because of you, we hated one another. Fought. Killed. We could have been creating--"

* * * * *

The door burst open. Four things, lacking any semblance of reason, advanced on him.

_Now you'll stop!_ The new planet's voice was vibrant, confident.

"Earth! Give us back our lives--"

Fred went down under the rush of Charlesworth and Lodgesen. Fingernails--what used to be feminine--tore at his face. A foot crashed into his ribs. Then, as fast as it had begun, the torment stopped.

He raised his head, saw the two screens. In view aft, the intruder planet was barely visible; Earth definitely seen in view forward. Neither changed appearance, but Fred's four companions, held in stasis, were an indication. A cosmic battle raged, an impossible mental battle: age versus youth, weakness versus strength, experience versus inexperience.

Suddenly, the four came at him again. He hadn't the power to resist. What was the use? We've lost again; shall we lose always?

_No ... you've won ... use the gift wisely._ As the voice faded out, the view-aft screen flared brilliantly with sudden energy released from a destroyed planet.

There was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing.

Fred tried to raise himself to a sitting position, sank back. Then Jo was cradling him. Her tears, he thought, mixed well with her laughter.

"You did help. However you managed it, you saved the five of us. Are you all right?"

Fred smiled at her. "I'm all right; we all are."

They were picking themselves up--except for one. A thin bundle, curled in a corner, it cried forlornly for its mother.

Jo pointed. "Dick isn't all right."

"He will be." Fred felt mental chains slipping from him. "We'll find a way, now. Don't you see, Jo? That cry is one of a new-born. Our mission was accomplished. The trajectory to Taurus did find life--ours, and it's all ahead of us...."

THE END