“It was,” he agreed. “More so than you realize. Of all the entities of your Civilization, your brother and now you are the only ones it would not kill instantly. You now know what the word ‘scope’ means, and are ready for your last treatment, in the course of which I shall take your mind as far along the road of knowledge as mine is capable of going.”
“But that would mean…you’re implying… But my mind can’t be superior to yours, Mentor! Nothing could be, possibly—it’s sheerly, starkly unthinkable!”
“But true, daughter, nevertheless. While you are recovering your strength from that which was but the beginning of your education, I will explain certain matters previously obscure. You have long known, of course, that you five children are not like any others. You have always known many things without having learned them. You think upon all possible bands of thought. Your senses of perception, of sight, of hearing, of touch, are so perfectly merged into one sense that you perceive at will any possible manifestation upon any possible plane or dimension of vibration. Also, although this may not have occurred to you as extraordinary, since it is not obvious, you differ physically from your fellows in some important respects. You have never experienced the slightest symptom of physical illness; not even a headache or a decayed tooth. You do not really require sleep. Vaccinations and inoculations do not ‘take’. No pathogenic organism, however virulent; no poison, however potent…”
“Stop, Mentor!” Kathryn gasped, turning white. “I can’t take it—you really mean, then, that we aren’t human at all?”
“Before going into that I should give you something of background. Our Arisian visualizations foretold the rise and fall of galactic civilizations long before any such civilizations came into being. That of Atlantis, for instance. I was personally concerned in that, and could not stop its fall.” Mentor was showing emotion now; his thought was bleak and bitter.
“Not that I expected to stop it,” he resumed. “It had been known for many cycles of time that the final abatement of the opposing force would necessitate the development of a race superior to ours in every respect.”
“Blood lines were selected in each of the four strongest races of this that you know as the First Galaxy. Breeding programs were set up, to eliminate as many as possible of their weaknesses and to concentrate all of their strengths. From your knowledge of genetics you realize the magnitude of the task; you know that it would take much time uselessly to go into the details of its accomplishment. Your father and your mother were the penultimates of long—very long—lines of mating; their reproductive cells were such that in their fusion practically every gene carrying any trait of weakness was rejected. Conversely, you carry the genes of every trait of strength ever known to any member of your human race. Therefore, while in outward seeming you are human, in every factor of importance you are not; you are even less human than am I myself.”
“And just how human is that?” Kathryn flared, and again her most penetrant probe of force flattened out against the Arisian’s screen.
“Later, daughter, not now. That knowledge will come at the end of your education, not at its beginning.”
“I was afraid so.” She stared at the Arisian, her eyes wide and hopeless; brimming, in spite of her efforts at control, with tears. “You’re a monster, and I am…or am going to be—a worse one. A monster…and I’ll have to live a million years…alone…why? Why, Mentor, did you have to do this to me?”
“Calm yourself, daughter. The shock, while severe, will pass. You have lost nothing, have gained much.”
“Gained? Bah!” The girl’s thought was loaded with bitterness and scorn. “I’ve lost my parents—I’ll still be a girl long after they have died. I’ve lost every possibility of ever really living. I want love—and a husband—and children—and I can’t have any of them, ever. Even without this, I’ve never seen a man I wanted, and now I can’t ever love anybody. I don’t want to live a million years, Mentor—especially alone!” The thought was a veritable wail of despair.
“The time has come to stop this muddy, childish thinking.” Mentor’s thought, however, was only mildly reproving. “Such a reaction is only natural, but your conclusions are entirely erroneous. One single clear thought will show you that you have no present psychic, intellectual, emotional, or physical need of a complement.”
“That’s true…” wonderingly. “But other girls of my age…”
“Exactly,” came Mentor’s dry rejoinder. “Thinking of yourself as an adult of Homo Sapiens, you were judging yourself by false standards. As a matter of fact, you are an adolescent, not an adult. In due time you will come to love a man, and he you, with a fervor and depth which you at present cannot even dimly understand.”
“But that still leaves my parents,” Kathryn felt much better. “I can apparently age, of course, as easily as I can put on a hat…but I really do love them, you know, and it will simply break mother’s heart to have all her daughters turn out to be—as she thinks—spinsters.”
“On that point, too, you may rest at ease. I am taking care of that. Kimball and Clarrissa both know, without knowing how they know it, that your life cycle is tremendously longer than theirs. They both know that they will not live to see their grandchildren. Be assured, daughter, that before they pass from this cycle of existence into the next—about which I know nothing—they shall know that all is to be supremely well with their line; even though, to Civilization at large, it shall apparently end with you Five.”
“End with us? What do you mean?”
“You have a destiny, the nature of which your mind is not yet qualified to receive. In due time the knowledge shall be yours. Suffice it now to say that the next forty or fifty years will be but a fleeting hour in the span of life which is to be yours. But time, at the moment, presses. You are now fully recovered and we must get on with this, your last period of study with me, at the end of which you will be able to bear the fullest, closest impact of my mind as easily as you have heretofore borne full contact with your sisters’. Let us proceed with the work.”
They did so. Kathryn took and survived those shattering treatments, one after another, emerging finally with a mind whose power and scope can no more be explained to any mind below the third level than can the general theory of relativity be explained to a chimpanzee.
“It was forced, not natural, yes,” the Arisian said, gravely, as the girl was about to leave. “You are many millions of your years ahead of your natural time. You realize, however, the necessity of that forcing. You also realize that I can give you no more formal instruction. I will be with you or on call at all times; I will be of aid in crises; but in larger matters your further development is in your own hands.”
Kathryn shivered. “I realize that, and it scares me clear through…especially this coming conflict, at which you hint so vaguely. I wish you’d tell me at least something about it, so I can get ready for it!”
“Daughter, I can’t.” For the first time in Kathryn’s experience, Mentor the Arisian was unsure. “It is certain that we have been on time; but since the Eddorians have minds of power little if any inferior to our own, there are many details which we cannot derive with certainty, and to advise you wrongly would be to do you irreparable harm. All I can say is that sufficient warning will be given by your learning, with no specific effort on your part and from some source other than myself, that there does in fact exist a planet named ‘Ploor’—a name which to you is now only a meaningless symbol. Go now, daughter Kathryn, and work.”
Kathryn went; knowing that the Arisian had said all that he would say. In truth, he had told her vastly more than she had expected him to divulge; and it chilled her to the marrow to think that she, who had always looked up to the Arisians as demi-gods of sorts, would from now on be expected to act as their equal—in some ways, perhaps, as their superior! As her speedster tore through space toward distant Klovia she wrestled with herself, trying to shake her new self down into a personality as well integrated as her old one h
ad been. She had not quite succeeded when she felt a thought.
“Help! I am in difficulty with this, my ship. Will any entity receiving my call and possessing the tools of a mechanic please come to my assistance? Or, lacking such tools, possessing a vessel of power sufficient to tow mine to the place where I must immediately go?”
Kathryn was startled out of her introspective trance. That thought was on a terrifically high band; one so high that she knew of no race using it, so high that an ordinary human mind could not possibly have either sent or received it. Its phraseology, while peculiar, was utterly precise in definition—the mind behind it was certainly of precisionist grade. She, acknowledged upon the stranger’s wave, and sent out a locator. Good—he wasn’t far away. She flashed toward the derelict, matched intrinsics at a safe distance, and began scanning, only to encounter a spy-ray block around the whole vessel! To her it was porous enough—but if the creature thought that his screen was tight, let him keep on thinking so. It was his move.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” The thought fairly snapped. “Come close, so that I may bring you in.”
“Not yet,” Kathryn snapped back. “Cut your block so that I can see what you are like. I carry equipment for many environments, but I must know what yours is and equip for it before I can come aboard. You will note that my screens are down.”
“Of course. Excuse me—I supposed that you were one of our own”—there came the thought of an unspellable and unpronounceable name—“since none of the lower orders can receive our thoughts direct. Can you equip yourself to come aboard with your tools?”
“Yes.” The stranger’s light was fierce stuff; ninety-eight percent of its energy being beyond the visible. His lamps were beam-held atomics, nothing less: but there was very little gamma and few neutrons. She could handle it easily enough, she decided, as she finished donning her heat-armor and a helmet of practically opaque, diamond-hard plastic.
As she was wafted gently across the intervening space upon a pencil of force, Kathryn took her first good look at the precisionist himself—or herself. She—it—looked something like a Dhilian, she thought at first. There was a squat, powerful, elephantine body with its four stocky legs; the tremendous double shoulders and enormous arms; the domed, almost immobile head. But there the resemblance ended. There was only one head—the thinking head, and that one had no eyes and was not covered with bone. There was no feeding head—the thing could neither eat nor breathe. There was no trunk. And what a skin!
It was worse than a hide, really—worse even than a Martian’s. The girl had never seen anything like it. It was incredibly thick, dry, pliable; filled minutely with cells of a liquid-gaseous something which she knew to be a more perfect insulator even than the fibres of the tegument itself.
“R-T-S-L-Q-P.” She classified the creature readily enough to six places, then stopped and wrinkled her forehead. “Seventh place—that incredible skin—what? S? R? T? It would have to be R…”
“You have the requisite tools, I perceive,” the creature greeted Kathryn as she entered the central compartment of the strange speedster, no larger than her own. “I can tell you what to do, if…”
“I know what to do.” She unbolted the cover, worked deftly with wrenches and cable and splicer and torch, and in ten minutes was done. “It doesn’t make sense that a person of your obvious intelligence, manifestly knowing enough to make such minor repairs yourself, would go so far from home, alone in such a small ship, without any tools. Burnouts and shorts are apt to happen any time, you know.”
“Not in the vessels of the…” Again Kathryn felt that unpronounceable symbol. She also felt the stranger stiffen in offended dignity. “We of the higher orders, you should know, do not perform labor. We think. We direct. Others work, and do their work well, or suffer accordingly. This is the first time in nine full four-cycle periods that such a thing has happened, and it will be the last. The punishment which I shall mete out to the guilty mechanic will ensure that. I shall, at end, have his life.”
“Oh, come, now!” Kathryn protested. “Surely it’s no life-and-death mat…”
“Silence!” came curt command. “It is intolerable that one of the lower orders should attempt to…”
“Silence yourself!” At the fierce power of the riposte the creature winced, physically and mentally. “I did this bit of dirty work for you because you apparently couldn’t do it for yourself. I did not object to the matter-of-course way you accepted it, because some races are made that way and can’t help it. But if you insist on keeping yourself placed five rungs above me on any ladder you can think of, I’ll stop being a lady—or even a good Girl Scout—and start doing things about it, and I’ll start at any signal you care to call. Get ready, and say when!”
The stranger, taken fully aback, threw out a lightning tentacle of thought; a feeler which was stopped cold a full foot from the girl’s radiant armor. This was a human female—or was it? It was not. No human being had ever had, or ever would have, a mind like that. Therefore:
“I have made a grave error,” the thing apologized handsomely, “in thinking that you are not at least my equal. Will you grant me pardon, please?”
“Certainly—if you don’t repeat it. But I still don’t like the idea of your torturing a mechanic for a thing…” She thought intensely, lip caught between white teeth. “Perhaps there’s a way. Where are you going, and when do you want to get there?”
“To my home planet,” pointing out mentally its location in the galaxy. “I must be there in two hundred G-P hours.”
“I see.” Kathryn nodded her head. “You can—if you promise not to harm him. And I can tell whether you really mean it or not.”
“As I promise, so I do. But in case I do not promise?”
“In that case you’ll get there in about a hundred thousand G-P years, frozen stiff. For I shall fuse your Bergenholm down into a lump; then, after welding your ports to the shell, I’ll mount a thought-screen generator outside, powered for seven hundred years. Promise, or that. Which?”
“I promise not to harm the mechanic in any way.” He surrendered stiffly, and made no protest at Kathryn’s entrance into his mind to make sure that the promise would be kept.
Flushed by her easy conquest of a mind she would previously have been unable to touch, and engrossed in the problem of setting her own tremendously enlarged mind to rights, why should it have occurred to the girl that there was anything worthy of investigation concealed in the depths of that chance-met stranger’s mentality?
Returning to her own speedster, she shed her armor and shot away; and it was just as well for her peace of mind that she was not aware of the tight-beamed thought even then speeding from the flitter so far behind her to dread and distant Ploor.
“…but it was very definitely not a human female. I could not touch it. It may very well have been one of the accursed Arisians themselves. But since I did nothing to arouse its suspicions, I got rid of it easily enough. Spread the warning!”
CHAPTER
10
Constance Out-Worsels Worsel
HILE KATHRYN KINNISON was working with her father in the hyper-spatial tube and with Mentor of Arisia, and while Camilla and Tregonsee were sleuthing the inscrutable “X”, Constance was also at work. Although she lay flat on her back, not moving a muscle, she was working as she had never worked before. Long since she had put her indetectable speedster into the control of a director-by-chance. Now, knowing nothing and caring less of where she and her vessel might be or might go, physically completely relaxed, she drove her “sensories” out to the full limit of their prodigious range and held them there for hour after hour. Worsel-like, she was not consciously listening for any particular thing; she was merely increasing her already incredibly vast store of knowledge. One hundred percent receptive, attached to and concerned with only the brain of her physical body, her mind sped at large; sampling, testing, analyzing, cataloguing every item with which its most tenuous fringe came in contact.
Through thousands of solar systems that mind went; millions upon millions of entities either did or did not contribute something worth while.
Suddenly there came something that jarred her into physical movement: a burst of thought upon a band so high that it was practically always vacant. She shook herself, got up, lighted an Alaskanite cigarette, and made herself a pot of coffee.
“This is important, I think,” she mused. “I’d better get to work on it while it’s fresh.”
She sent out a thought tuned to Worsel, and was surprised when it went unanswered. She investigated: finding that the Velantian’s screens were full up and held hard—he was fighting Overlords so savagely that he had not felt her thought. Should she take a hand in this brawl? She should not, she decided, and grinned fleetingly. Her erstwhile tutor would need no help in that comparatively minor chore. She’d wait until he wasn’t quite so busy.
“Worsel! Con calling. What goes on there, fellow old snake?” She finally launched her thought.
“As though you didn’t know!” Worsel sent back. “Been quite a while since I saw you—how about coming aboard?”
“Coming at max,” and she did.
Before entering the Velan, however, she put on a gravity damper, set at 980 centimeters. Strong, tough, and supple as she was she did not relish the thought of the atrocious accelerations used and enjoyed by Velantians everywhere.
“What did you make of that burst of thought?” she asked by way of greeting. “Or were you having so much fun you missed it?”
“What burst?” Then, after Constance had explained, “I was busy; but not having fun.”
“Somebody who didn’t know you might believe that,” the girl derided. “This thought was important, I think—much more so than dilly-dallying with Overlords, as you were doing. It was ’way up—on this band here.” She illustrated.
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