The Seventh Order

by Jerry Sohl

his gun.

  "I'm warning you--" the Professor started to say.

  But it was too late. There was another blinding, scorching flash, moreburned grass, more smell of seared flesh.

  The police sergeant disappeared.

  "Gentlemen!" George said, standing. "Don't lose your heads!"

  But he was talking to a retreating group of men. Newsmen walked quicklyto what they thought was a safe distance. The radio men silently packedtheir gear. The TV cameras were rolled noiselessly away.

  Prof. Tomlin, alone on the porch with the robot, turned to him and said,"Much of what you have told me comes to have new meaning, George. Iunderstand what you mean when you talk about people being willing towork for your so-called Seventh Order."

  "I knew you were a better than average man, Professor Tomlin," thehumanoid said, nodding with gratification.

  "This is where I get off, George. I'm warning you now that you'd betterreturn to your ship or whatever it is you came in. People just won'tstand for what you've done. They don't like murder!"

  "I cannot return to my ship," George said. "I destroyed it when Iarrived. Of course I could instruct some of you how to build another forme, but I don't intend to leave, anyway."

  "You will be killed then."

  "Come, now, Professor Tomlin. You know better than that."

  "If someone else can't, then perhaps I can."

  "Fine!" The robot replied jovially. "That's just what I want you to do.Oppose me. Give me a real test of your ability. If you find itimpossible to kill me--and I'm sure you will--then I doubt if anyoneelse will be able to."

  Prof. Tomlin lit a cigaret and puffed hard at it. "The trouble withyou," he said, eying the humanoid evenly, "is that your makers forgot togive you a conscience."

  "Needless baggage, a conscience. One of your Fifth Order failings."

  "You will leave here...."

  "Of course. Under the circumstances, and because of your attitude, youare of very little use to me now, Professor Tomlin."

  The robot walked down the steps. People attracted by the police car madea wide aisle for him to the street.

  They watched him as he walked out of sight.

  * * * * *

  That night there was a mass meeting in the university's MemorialGymnasium, attended by several hundred men. They walked in and silentlytook their seats, some on the playing floor, others in the balcony overthe speaker's platform. There was very little talking; the air wastense.

  On the platform at the end of the gym were Mayor Harry Winters, Chief ofPolice Sam Higgins, and Prof. Ansel Tomlin.

  "Men," the mayor began, "there is loose in our city a being from anotherworld whom I'm afraid we took too lightly a few days ago. I am speakingof the humanoid--George of Zanthar. It is obvious the machine meansbusiness. He evidently came in with one purpose--to prepare Earth forothers just like him to follow. He is testing us. He has, as you know,killed two men. Richard Knight, who may have erred in attacking themachine, is nonetheless dead as a result--killed by a force we do notunderstand. A few minutes later Sergeant Gerald Phillips of the policeforce was killed in the performance of his duty, trying to arrest thehumanoid George for the death of Mr. Knight. We are here to discuss whatwe can do about George."

  He then introduced Prof. Tomlin who told all he knew about the blue man,his habits, his brain, the experiences with him for the past two and ahalf weeks.

  "If we could determine the source of his power, it might be possible tocut it off or to curtail it. He might be rendered at least temporarilyhelpless and, while in such a condition, possibly be done away with. Hehas told me he is vulnerable to force, such as a speeding bullet, if ithit the right spot, but George possesses the ability to read intent longbefore the commission of an act. The person need not even be in theroom. He is probably listening to me here now, although he may be faraway."

  The men looked at one another, shifted uneasily on their seats, and afew cast apprehensive eyes at the windows and doorways.

  "Though he is admittedly a superior creature possessed of powers beyondour comprehension, there must be a weak spot in his armor somewhere. Ihave dedicated myself to finding that weakness."

  The chair recognized a man in the fifth row.

  "Mr. Mayor, why don't we all track him down and a lot of us attack himat once? Some of us would die, sure, but he couldn't strike us _all_dead at one time. Somebody's bound to succeed."

  "Why not try a high-powered rifle from a long way off?" someone elsesuggested, frantically.

  "Let's bomb him," still another offered.

  The mayor waved them quiet and turned to Prof. Tomlin. The professor gotto his feet again.

  "I'm not sure that would work, gentlemen," he said. "The humanoid isable to keep track of hundreds of things at the same time. No doubt hecould unleash his power in several directions almost at once."

  "But we don't know!"

  "It's worth a try!"

  At that moment George walked into the room and the clamor died at itsheight. He went noiselessly down an aisle to the platform, mounted itand turned to the assembly. He was a magnificent blue figure, eyesflashing, chest out, head proud. He eyed them all.

  "You are working yourselves up needlessly," he said quietly. "It is notmy intention, nor is it the intention of any Seventh Order Humanoid, tokill or cause suffering. It's simply that you do not understand what itwould mean to dedicate yourselves to the fulfillment of the SeventhOrder destiny. It is your heritage, yours because you have advanced inyour technology so far that Earth has been chosen by us as a station.You will have the privilege of creating us. To give you such aworthwhile goal in your short lives is actually doing you a service--aservice far outweighed by any of your citizens. Beside a Seventh OrderHumanoid, your lives are unimportant in the great cosmic scheme ofthings--"

  "If they're so unimportant, why did you bother to take two of them?"

  "Yeah. Why don't you bring back Dick Knight and Sergeant Phillips?"

  "Do you want to be buried lying down or standing up?"

  The collective courage rallied. There were catcalls and hoots, stampingof feet.

  Suddenly from the balcony over George's head a man leaned over, a metalfolding chair in his hands, aiming at George's head. An instant laterthe man disappeared in a flash and the chair dropped toward George. Hemoved only a few inches and the chair thudded to the platform beforehim. He had not looked up.

  For a moment the crowd sat stunned. Then they rose and started for theblue man. Some drew guns they had brought. The hall was filled withblinding flashes, with smoke, with a horrible stench, screams, swearing,cries of fear and pain. There was a rush for the exits. Some died at thefeet of their fellow men.

  In the end, when all were gone, George of Zanthar still stood on theplatform, alone. There was no movement except the twitching of the newdead, the trampled, on the floor.

  * * * * *

  Events happened fast after that. The Illinois National Guard mobilized,sent a division to Brentwood to hunt George down. He met them at thecity square. They rumbled in and trained machine guns and tank rifles onhim. The tanks and personnel flashed out of existence before a shot wasfired.

  Brentwood was ordered evacuated. The regular Army was called in.Reconnaissance planes reported George was still standing in the citysquare. Jet planes materialized just above the hills and made suddendives, but before their pilots could fire a shot, they were snuffed outof the air in a burst of fire.

  Bombers first went over singly, only to follow the jets' fate. Asquadron bloomed into a fiery ball as it neared the target. A long-rangegun twenty miles away was demolished when its ammunition blew up shortlybefore firing.

  Three days after George had killed his first man, action ceased. Thecountryside was deathly still. Not a living person could be seen forseveral miles around. But George still stood patiently in the square. Hestood there for three more days and yet nothing happened.

  On the fourth day, he se
nsed that a solitary soldier had started towardthe city from five miles to the east. In his mind's eye he followed thesoldier approaching the city. The soldier, a sergeant, was bearing awhite flag that fluttered in the breeze; he was not armed. After an hourhe saw the sergeant enter the square and walk toward him. When they werewithin twenty feet of one another, the soldier stopped and saluted.

  "Major General Pitt requests a meeting with you, sir," the soldier said,trembling and trying hard not to.

  "Do not be frightened," George said. "I see you intend me no harm."

  The soldier reddened. "Will you accompany me?"

  "Certainly."

  The two turned toward the east and started to walk.

  * * * * *

  Five miles east of Brentwood lies a small community named Minerva.Population: 200. The highway from Brentwood to Chicago cuts the town intwo. In the center of town, on the north side of the road, stands a newbuilding--the Minerva Town Hall--built the year before with money raisedby the residents. It was the largest and most elaborate building inMinerva, which had been evacuated three days before.

  On this morning the town hall was occupied by army men. Maj. Gen. Pittfretted and fumed at the four officers and twenty enlisted men waitingin the building.

  "It's an indignity!" he railed at the men who were forced to listen tohim. "We have orders to talk appeasement with him! Nuts! We lose a fewmen, a few planes and now we're ready to meet George halfway. What'sthis country coming to? There ought to be something that would knock himout. Why should we have to send in _after_ him? It's disgusting!"

  The major general, a large man with a bristling white mustache and a redface, stamped back and forth in the council room. Some of the officersand men smiled to themselves. The general was a well known fighting man.Orders he had received hamstrung him and, as soldiers, they sympathizedwith him.

  "What kind of men do we have in the higher echelons?" He asked everybodyin general and nobody in particular. "They won't even let us have afield telephone. We're supposed to make a report by radio. Now isn'tthat smart?" He shook his head, looked the men over. "An appeasementteam, that's what you are, when you ought to be a combat team to lickhell out of George.

  "Why were you all assigned to this particular duty? I never saw any ofyou before and I understand you're all strangers to each other, too.Hell, what will they do next? Appeasement. I never appeased anybodybefore in my whole life. I'd rather spit in his eye. What am I supposedto talk about? The weather? What authority do I have to yak with awalking collection of nuts and bolts!"

  An officer strode into the room and saluted the general. "They'recoming, sir," he said.

  "Who's coming?... My God, man," the general spluttered angrily, "bespecific. Who the hell are 'they'?"

  "Why, George and Sergeant Matthews, sir. You remember, the sergeant whovolunteered to go into Brentwood--"

  "Oh, _them_. Well, all I have to say is this is a hell of a war. Ihaven't figured out what I am going to say yet."

  "Shall I have them wait, sir?"

  "Hell, no. Let's get this over with. I'll find out what George has tosay and maybe that'll give me a lead."

  Before George entered the Council chamber, he already knew the mind ofeach man. He saw the room through their eyes. He knew everything aboutthem, what they were wearing, what they were thinking. All had guns, yetnone of them would kill him, although at least one man, Maj. Gen. Pitt,would have liked to.

  They were going to talk appeasement, George knew, but he could also seethat the general didn't know what line the conversation would take orwhat concessions he could make on behalf of his people.

  Wait--there was one man among the twenty-three who had an odd thought.It was a soldier he had seen looking through a window at him. This manwas thinking about eleven o'clock, for George could see in the man'smind various symbols for fifteen minutes from then--the hands of aclock, a watch, the numerals 11. But George could not see anysignificance to the thought.

  When he entered the room with the sergeant, he was ushered to a table.He sat down with Maj. Gen. Pitt, who glowered at him. Letting his mindroam the room, George picked up the numerals again and identified theman thinking them as the officer behind and a little to the right of thegeneral.

  What was going to happen at eleven? The man had no conscious thought ofharm to anyone, yet the idea kept obtruding and seemed so out of keepingwith his other thoughts George assigned several of his circuits to theman. The fact that the lieutenant looked at his watch and saw that itwas 10:50 steeled George still more. If there was to be trouble, itwould come from this one man.

  "I'm General Pitt," the general said drily. "You're George, of course. Ihave been instructed to ask you what, exactly, your intentions aretoward the United States and the world in general, with a view towardreaching some sort of agreement with you and others of your kind, whowill, as you say invade the Earth."

  "Invade, General Pitt," George replied, "is not the word."

  "All right, whatever the word is. We're all familiar with the planyou've been talking about. What we want to know is, where do you go fromhere?"

  "The fact that there has been no reluctance on the part of the armedforces to talk of an agreement--even though I see that you privately donot favor such a talk, General Pitt--is an encouraging sign. We ofZanthar would not want to improve a planet which could not be educatedand would continually oppose our program. This will make it possible forme to turn in a full report in a few days now."

  "Will you please get to the point?"

  George could see that the lieutenant was looking at his watch again. Itwas 10:58. George spread his mind out more than twenty miles, but couldfind no installation, horizontally or vertically, that indicatedtrouble. None of the men in the room seemed to think of becoming overlyhostile.

  "Yes, General. After my message goes out, there ought to be a landingparty on Earth within a few weeks. While waiting for the first party,there must be certain preparations--"

  George tensed. The lieutenant was reaching for something. But it somehowdidn't seem connected with George. It was something white, ahandkerchief. He saw that the man intended to blow his nose and startedto relax except that George suddenly became aware of the fact the man_did not need to blow his nose_!

  Every thought-piercing circuit became instantly energized in George'smind and reached out in all directions....

  There were at least ten shots from among the men. They stood theresurprised at their actions. Those who had fired their guns now held thesmoking weapons awkwardly in their hands.

  George's eyes were gone. Smoke curled upward from the two empty socketswhere bullets had entered a moment before. The smoke grew heavier andhis body became hot. Some of him turned cherry red and the chair onwhich he had been sitting started to burn. Finally, he collapsed towardthe table and rolled to the floor.

  He started to cool. He was no longer the shiny blue-steel color he hadbeen--he had turned black. His metal gave off cracking noises and someof it buckled here and there as it cooled.

  * * * * *

  A few minutes later, tense military men and civilians grouped around aradio receiver in Chicago heard the report and relaxed, laughing andslapping each other on the back. Only one sat unmoved in a corner.Others finally sought him out.

  "Well, Professor, it was your idea that did the trick. Don't you feellike celebrating?" one of them asked.

  Prof. Tomlin shook his head. "If only George had been a little morebenign, we might have learned a lot from him."

  "What gave you the idea that killed him?"

  "Oh, something he said about the unconscious and subconscious," Prof.Tomlin replied. "He admitted they were not penetrable. It was an easymatter to instill a post-hypnotic suggestion in some proven subjects andthen to erase the hypnotic experience."

  "You make it sound easy."

  "It wasn't too difficult, really. It was finding the solution that washard. We selected more than a hundred men, w
orked with them for days,finally singled out the best twenty, then made them forget theirhypnosis. A first lieutenant--I've forgotten his name--had implanted inhim a command even he was not aware of. His subconscious made him blowhis nose fifteen minutes after he saw George. Nearly twenty others hadpost-hypnotic commands to shoot George in the eyes as soon as they sawthe lieutenant blow his nose. Of course we also planted a subconscioushate pattern, which wasn't exactly necessary, just to make sure therewould be no hesitation, no inhibition, no limiting moral factor.

  "None of the men ever saw each other before being sent to Minerva. Nonerealized that they carried with them the order for George'sannihilation. The general, who was not one of the hypnotics, was givenloose instructions, as were several others, so they could not possiblyknow the intention. Those of us who had conducted the hypnosis had tostay several hundred miles away so that we could not be reached byGeorge's prying mind...."

  * * * * *

  In a pasture next to a wood near Brentwood, a metal box buried in theground suddenly exploded, uprooting a catalpa tree.

  On a planet many millions of miles away, a red light--one of many on agiant control board--suddenly winked out.

  A blue humanoid made an entry in a large book: _System 29578, PlanetThree Inhabited_.

  _Too dangerous for any kind of development._