“Matter of fact, I doubt if they’ll take any interest in telepathy for a long time. Some sort of species-wide trauma, I think.” He shrugged.
“I’ve picked up some data on that, and I may do a synthesis on it some day,” he added. “But that’s beside the point.
“They’ve worked out interstellar travel, of course. And their cruisers contacted a Federation patrol quite some time ago. They looked us over and decided they’d like to work out their own problems for a while longer.”
Sanathor raised his eyebrows, then nodded approvingly. “Want to meet us on a more even footing, I gather,” he commented. “Smart. Some of the other young cultures should try that.”
“True enough,” Meinora agreed. “Huilon had a totally independent culture, and it was a good one.” He leaned back in his chair.
“I told you I’d been there before. I found them to be a cheerful, friendly people in general. As I said, I had a wonderful time there. They’ve got a beautiful planet, and they were comfortable people.” He shook his head.
“But I went back there a half cycle ago. They’ve changed. There’s an aura of suspicion all over the planet. I made planetfall at one of their main spaceports. They let me down, then guided me to an interviewer. This guy advised me not to advertise myself as a galactic. Said they didn’t really have anything against Federation citizens, to be sure, but they were, after all, an independent world. And they had their own culture, which they liked and wanted to retain unspoiled.” His face wrinkled in distasteful remembrance.
“Told you they’re nontelepathic, didn’t I? But you should see how much expression they can put into their voices and physical attitudes.”
Sanathor nodded. “I’ve dealt with nontels,” he said. “Barrier type, I gather?”
“In effect,” Meinora agreed.
“They’ve almost a closed circuit. Gives the impression of a sort of thick veil.” He extended his hands, palms up, fingers extended. “Can’t get anything out, but they can pick up suggestive impressions—if the mental field’s strong enough.”
“They can be influenced, then?”
“Right. And that’s just what’s happening.” Meinora nodded vigorously.
“Anyway,” he went on, “I hung around their entry station for a while. Brushed up on the language. Got some credits changed to local currency, and did a little checking on the advisability of a cover identity. Found I could use my own name. It’s actually used in one Huilonian district.” He glanced sideways.
“I didn’t really need to go that far,” he admitted, “but frankly, I was curious.
“At first, I went out on the town.” He shook his head. “Wasn’t so good. All I could get out of the people at the hotel was polite conversation—and that strictly business. Not exactly a cold shoulder, you know, but one of those deals where, your money’s as good as anyone’s, we suppose, but we never met your grandfather. You’re an outsider.”
“I roamed around a little and found a few exceptions to the rule. There were people who’d give me a really civil word. But even they were a little wary. Some sort of cult had sprung up. Among themselves, the cultists seemed quite normal, but they were highly suspicious of nonmembers, and had very little to do with them. And the nonmembers didn’t know who to trust.” He laughed shortly.
“So I decided to get away from the city. Bought a ground car and started wandering. After all, I had wanted to get some work in on a new story sequence or so, and I was going to do something about that. I found a beautiful spot, way up in the mountains. Leased a cabin, set up my recorder, and started working.” He cocked his head to one side.
“From that angle. I’ll have to admit it was a successful trip. I ignored the human factor and wandered around the mountains all by my lonesome. They’re truly beautiful.”
His eyes veiled in memory and he shook his head. “Of course, there was a taint of that same standoffishness I’d noticed in the city, but as I said, I managed to ignore it. And I got some work done—for a while.”
He stopped. “Look, San. I can give you practically a first-hand view from here on. Made up a set of recorded sequences on the way in.” He pointed to the case at his feet. “Mind if I run these instead of making a lecture out of it?”
“Sure.” Sanathor nodded. “Get your stuff set up. Meanwhile, I’ll get in touch with Exploration and get a little rundown on this empty space in the sphere.” He pointed to the blank area surrounding a faint haze in the viewsphere.
Sanathor cupped his chin in his hands and sat quietly for a while, watching Meinora open his case and remove a portable playback. Then, he ran his hand over his head and reached out to his desk. He flipped a switch, punched a series of buttons, and waited.
A face superimposed itself on the images of the stars of Sector Fourteen.
“Exploration. Kellar.”
“Sanathor, Philosophical. Got an intersection near Sector edge. Want the co-ordinates?”
The face in the sphere moved from side to side, then stopped.
“Not necessary. I can duplicate ’em. What’s on?”
“Report on activity in the intersection area. Any of your people ever been out that way?”
Kellar hesitated. “Hang on. I’ll have a look.” His face withdrew from the sphere.
Sanathor leaned back in his chair, watching the sphere idly. It blurred a little, then came into sharp focus again. Faint lines shot out from Sector Headquarters and various marker stars brightened. Then a second star map was superimposed. Sanathor turned away.
Seemed funny, he thought, that there had been no report of an active civilization in that big, blank space. There must be something peculiar there. He looked speculatively at Meinora for an instant, then shook his head.
No, that couldn’t be it. Meinora had always been known for his impatience with conventional patterns, of course, but he’d also been known for accuracy. In fact, Sanathor could remember several instances when Meinora’s quick determinations had been questioned, to the discomfiture of the questioner. Meinora had built up a considerable reputation as a result of excellent results in a few pretty touchy operations.
Again, Sanathor looked across the desk. Meinora had his playback set up and was placing a reel of tape.
The communicator beeped softly and Sanathor looked back at the sphere. The Exploration officer’s face was again superimposed on the star images.
“Are you giving me a hard time?”
“Why?”
“That’s a funny orientation you’ve got there and I didn’t recognize it at first, but you’ve got a dark nebula—a fairly big one. And your vector intersection’s right in the middle of it. We’ve been around that area and we’ve placed danger markers. But so far’s we know, no one’s ever been crazy enough to try going through it. It’s loaded with strong, interacting fields from a cluster of darks.”
“But could it be penetrated? And is there a possibility of something inside the nebula?” Sanathor frowned and cast a glance toward Meinora. “I’ve got a report that there’s something in there.”
One of Kellar’s hands appeared briefly. “Oh, sure. There are all kinds of possibilities, I suppose. Anything can happen in space, and we haven’t done too much exploration out that way yet. Just charted the thing. We do know that there are gravity fields coming from those dark stars. And those fields are so strong they bend light into closed paths. That’s why some of those darks are dark.” He shrugged.
“Surely, there might be neutralization paths. But if there are, they’d be crooked. And you’d run into areas where limiting velocity’d be down in the kilometer per hour bracket, I imagine. But I wouldn’t say it was impossible to get through, or that there couldn’t be something inside. Why?”
Sanathor shrugged. “As I said, I’ve got a report from a reliable source that something came out of there. Something that’s in my line of business. Might have to send some of my people in there one of these days.”
Kellar smiled crookedly. “Be more than one day, I
can assure you.” His smile faded. “Look, I’ve got a couple of cruisers out that way. I’ll have them take a look and do a little probing. See if we can find any null paths. Part of our job, you know. And it’ll give my people some practical exercise.”
“Thanks a lot. See you at the club.” Sanathor disconnected and looked across the office.
Meinora was waiting. As Sanathor faced him, he walked across the floor, headband in hand.
“Easier than hooking into the viewsphere,” he explained. “And I think it’s a little more effective, too.”
He looked back at the machine. “That thing’s got a couple of ideas of my own in it. The gadget uses full-scale recording, and gives full sensation. Almost amounts to a personality exchange.”
Sanathor looked at the headband doubtfully. “Just one band? I know you’re a full telepath, of course, but—”
“Don’t think I’ll need to cut in.” Meinora shook his head. “I can hook in another band, though, if you want me wired into sequence.”
“No, do it your way. It’s your sequence.” Sanathor fitted the head-band on. He watched as the other flipped the machine on and made final adjustments.
Suddenly, he wasn’t Boreel Sanathor. He was Klion Meinora. And he was puzzling over a story sequence that wouldn’t come out just right.
The door chime rang musically and he looked up from his recorder. He glanced in the direction of the door, then stretched and got up, to start across the room. Halfway to the door, he paused, turned to look at the recorder, and walked back to throw a dust cover over it. The chime sounded again. He shrugged and crossed the room.
Two men stood on the steps, within the shaft of light which shone from the door. Meinora looked at them questioningly.
“Good evening.”
One of the men held out his hand.
“How are you, Mr. Meinora? I’m Counselor Dudarik.” He inclined his head sideways. “This is Friend Leuris. We are from the Brotherhood.” He held out his hands in a gesture of peaceful supplication.
“Come,” his attitude seemed to say. “Join us!”
“We thought we should pay you a visit, to welcome you to the village.”
Meinora blinked. “The Brotherhood?”
“Why, yes. The Brotherhood of Light, you know.” Dudarik glanced past Meinora, into the room. “We would like to talk with you for a time, if we may.”
“Admit us. We are the ones you may trust and follow!”
An aura of friendly interest enveloped Meinora. For a moment, the man in front of him assumed a fatherly aspect. He appeared as an old, trusted adviser and companion. And Meinora felt a powerful compulsion, telling him to believe what the man said, and to follow his instructions. Involuntarily, he stepped back.
“Come in,” he invited.
As the two men stepped inside, the impression of good will and fatherly interest intensified.
Dudarik looked around the room approvingly. “You have a nice place here,” he complimented.
Meinora smiled. “Thank you. I’ve
got it fixed up just about the way I like it.”
He had recovered from the numbing effect of the waves of mental force. Now, his senses alerted, he looked at Dudarik appraisingly, then waved to indicate chairs.
“Sit down,” he invited.
Dudarik chose a chair and cast a quick glance at Leuris, who promptly sat in the nearest chair, watching expectantly.
“Well trained,” Meinora told himself. For the moment he dismissed Leuris from consideration.
Dudarik was still examining the room.
“You show excellent taste,” he said. “I see you prefer the older styles to some of this so-called modern furniture. Are you planning to settle here permanently?”
“Well,” Meinora hesitated, “I expect to be here for some time.” He spread his hands deprecatingly. “You see, my work doesn’t require me to stay in any given spot.”
“Oh?” Dudarik looked at him interestedly. “You are most fortunate. Most of us have a fixed place of business. What line are you in?”
“I’m a retired teacher,” Meinora told him. “Right now, I’m doing a little free-lance writing.”
He felt a surge of almost avid interest, which was quickly suppressed. The wave of good will returned. Carefully, he sent out a probing thought. There was rib defensive reaction. Cautiously, Meinora increased the power of his probe, investigating the man’s thoughts.
Dudarik continued to make small talk, alternately complimenting and inquiring. Bit by bit, he was allowed to pick out information about the past life of a teacher of basic philosophy and history, who had finally saved enough to allow him a moderate income.
In turn, he volunteered information about the beliefs and practices of the Brotherhood of Light, a theological order which professed to an unshakable belief in the high destiny of Huilon and its people. Huilon, they preached, was the chosen planet of the universe—the destined ruler of all.
But Dudarik was revealing more than he realized. Beneath the surface, Meinora was picking up other information. Mardon Dudarik, he discovered almost immediately, was not native to Huilon. His home planet lay in a far-off solar system, where he was a younger son of one of the older families of the nobility.
In accordance with the custom of his homeland, he had left his father’s estate, to build an estate for himself. And since the estates on the home planet were left only to the eldest of the line and could never be broken up, he had journeyed far.
In company with other younger members of noble families, he had come to Huilon, where he had joined with his companions in a pattern of conquest long used by his people on other planets. When the young nobles had finished their work on Huilon, they would be able to claim the choicest bits of the planet as their own. They would then ally themselves to the homeland and would found noble lines in their own right.
Meinora probed further, in an effort to discover the location of the man’s home planet. Bits of data were forthcoming. Although reference points were different from those to which he was accustomed, he was able to build a rough star map from the stray thoughts his probing brought to the surface. But he was unable to decipher the vague thoughts about the “curtain,” or “barrier.”
He turned his attention to Leuris. This one proved to be typically Huilonian. He was receptive of strong impressions, but did not recognize them as coming from outside his own mind. And his thought processes were veiled. Meinora made no effort to force his way beyond the veil.
Dudarik was absorbedly working out a justification of the tenets of the Brotherhood, making frequent reference to basic Huilonian theology. The articles of the Brotherhood were well worked out, Meinora noted. Even without the compulsive mental force maintained by Dudarik, the theory was of a nature as to appeal logically and emotionally to a Huilonian who accepted certain premises. And those premises were drawn from basic Huilonian theological belief.
Dudarik finished rounding out a discussion of one point, then looked at his watch.
“You know, Mr. Meinora,” he apologized, “we had no intention of keeping you for so long.” He smiled gently. “When one becomes interested in a discussion with an intelligent person, you know, time seems to simply melt away. But you must be getting tired.”
He got up and Leuris quickly followed his lead. Dudarik started for the door, then paused. He reached into a pocket and produced a thick pamphlet.
“We would like to leave this with you,” he explained. “It outlines some of the beliefs and aims of the Brotherhood. Possibly you might like to read it over.” The mental force became faintly commanding as he extended the pamphlet.
“We would like to come and talk with you again, if we may. Perhaps in ten days or so?”
Meinora accepted the pamphlet. “Yes,” he agreed enthusiastically, “I find your discourse quite interesting.” He waved a hand to indicate the living room. “I spend most of my time here in the evenings, so you’ll find me in almost any time.” He followed his visitors to
the door.
He looked up. Someone, across the desk, was rewinding tape in a parapsych playback. He blinked. It looked—In fact, it was Meinora. But who was he, then? He had—Sanathor regained full conscious control. He straightened up, then laughed.
“First time I ever had anything like that happen to me,” he said.
“That gadget of yours packs quite a punch.”
Meinora turned around, grinning. “Wouldn’t happen ordinarily. There’d be a fade-out to let an observer come back gradually. I snapped the switch on you. Thought I owed you one for that gag in the hall.” His expression became serious.
“That sequence was no gag, though. It was straight reportage. What do you think?”
Sanathor frowned. “Looks bad,” he said quietly. “Plenty bad. I’ll have to put a team on it in a hurry.” He paused. “Did you hang around for that second visit those jokers promised you?”
Meinora nodded. “Oh, yes. I didn’t want to rouse any suspicion. Agreed with ’em and answered their questions as to my knowledge of the pamphlet. I told ’em I was very much interested and fed this Dudarik back some of his friendly interest—with interest. Then, I gave them a story about some difficulty with my income. They were properly sympathetic, so I told ’em I was going to have to go to my home area for a while, but I’d be back soon’s I got things straightened up again.” He smiled.
“And that’s just what I intend. I swallowed their lesson for the night in one gulp, ushered them out the door, and started packing.” He snapped the lid on the playback.
“And here I am. I’m back in my home area. And when I get things straightened out, I’ll go back. Just as I promised them.”
Sanathor stroked his chin then looked down at his desk. Finally, he looked up and shook his head.
Complete Fiction (Jerry eBooks) Page 40