by Eando Binder
Thane braced himself as the mirror lowered over his head, still helpless to leap out of the chair and escape. At the purling blue ray’s touch, infinite agony filled his head. He felt as if his brain were being ripped out. But he knew it wasn’t his brain. It was his mind. The essence of his whole being. The true intangible him, an electromagnetic pattern stamped on his brain like the magnetic pattern on a voice-tape.
And his mind-psyche was being forced out of his brain and into the psychomagnetic tube. There was a soundless ‘snap’ and the pain ceased. He sensed that his mind-bulge was now traveling through the tube. It felt like going through a clammy cold tunnel into some impossible dimension.
Then he felt his mind-essence pouring into a receptacle in the plastic box, and being ‘imprinted’ therein. He was in the mind-battery. Dimly, his racing thoughts wondered if his mind would be returned to his body, like Miribel’s. Or would he remain here, forever imprisoned within this horrifying psycho-battery like a charge of electricity?
But then he felt himself being drawn away, back through the tube. Moments later, with a soundless click, he was seeing with his eyes and hearing with his ears again.
“Again a complete success,” said the Morlian chief tonelessly, though they were crowing words. “That means that M-day can be set for three days from now.”
“M-day means mind-day,” whispered Miribel to Thane, her voice edged with a moan.
“Our orbit will take us within 5000 miles of earth in three days,” the Supreme High went on, speaking to his attendants more than to his prisoners. “From that close range, we can send the activator-signal to all our invisibly taped antennas planted on earth so laboriously in the past 75 years.”
With dread clawing its way through him, Thane waited for the rest, not daring to consciously think ahead himself.
“Each antenna will then spread an umbrella of blue rays, completely covering earth’s surface. The mind-psyches of all people on earth will then be forced out of their brains.”
Thane winced violently with each statement after that.
“Our circling ships with psychomagnetic tubes lowered will suction up those loosened mind-psyches and keep them stored… Upon return to our main base here, the tubes will pour those captured human minds into the psycho-battery….
“Fully charged, the psycho-battery will then feed mentality-units to the computer system….
“And we will have a bio-computer of supercapacity, greater than any ever invented before in the universe, powered not by mere electronic impulses but by three and a half billion human minds.”
Thane’s mind flipped upside-down. He felt himself skirting the edges of insanity. A whole world—his world, “robbed” of 3½ billion mind-psyches—sent into mental slavery within a computing machine.
Now he knew why Thalkon had used ‘ghastly’ and ‘fiendish’ to describe the Morlian plot against the earth. But those words were too weak. There were no words to describe the supercrime that would be committed with multibillions of minds stolen from humanity on earth.
“With the mind-powered computer,” the Supreme High was finishing, “we will of course be able to devise new ultraweapons far more powerful than those of the Vigilantes. Conquest of the universe will then follow with ease.”
Thane knew he was not boasting. With 3½ billion mentalities given programmed instructions to work out the scientific and mathematical problems, they would be solved in billionths of a second. The output of this mind-powered computer would be inconceivably superior to any other computer known.
And the most grinding thought was that the stolen earth-minds would aid the empire-hungry Morlians in wrecking the United Worlds and sweeping through the galaxy as conquerors.
Maddening thought upon maddening thought. Miribel was staring pityingly at Thane. She shook her head, seeing him slowly go under.
“That is your punishment for the destruction of ten of our bases, Thane Smith,” the Supreme High said. “Not to join your fellow people in the psycho-computer, but to live on and go mad when you are the only human left free.”
The mildness of his tone, in contrast to his ruthless words, was far more blood-chilling than if he had roared in emotional theatrics.
“Release them from the chairs and imprison them together.”
Chapter 20
For almost two days, Thane was a madman. Not a homicidal psychopath but a brooding wreck who moaned and groaned continuously, clenching and unclenching his fists helplessly. Miribel wept at the insane light in his tortured eyes.
How could any earthman withstand the stark and devastating picture of how his people—to the last man, woman, and child—would have body and mind shorn asunder, leaving 3½ billion breathing but mindless bodies to slowly die on earth like gross crawling slugs?
“That was why,” Miribel murmured, “we did not want to tell you the Morlian earth-plot. That you heard it at all was the price you had to pay for aiding us as a spy. Poor Thane. Your mind will stay in your body—but hopelessly mad. And I loved you….”
She choked for a moment, then straightened up. A look of concentration came over her face as she began sending out a psycho-beam, contacting Thalkon. She told the grim story briefly.
“Then in one more day,” returned Thalkon, “they will be within position to send the trigger-beam to their earth-based antennas and accomplish their aim—the theft of every mind on earth. Even if we attacked with all our forces at that time, their entire warfleet would be at hand, protecting the key-ship sending down the trigger beam and the mind-suction craft. We might wipe out most of their forces—and still lose. For they would have 3½ billion human minds safely stored in their psycho-battery, ready for use in the psycho-computer.”
“The trouble is,” Miribel said in frustration, “that we still don’t know where this Morlian HQ is. We’ve had no chance to look out at the stars or at anything. And the psycho-beam between us is entirely non-directional. However, from the slight gravity, I suspect this is some very small asteroid.”
“Fine,” said Thalkon ironically. “Only 50,000 to choose from.”
“No, not 50,000,” came a new psycho-voice. “Just one.”
Miribel turned with a little scream of joy. “Thane, it’s you! Your eyes are clear. How—”
“I can’t figure it out myself,” said Thane wonderingly. “Unless everything that’s happened to me in the past two weeks—seeing genuine saucers, the MIB’s attacking, meeting the Vigilantes, hearing of the 75-year struggle, and all that—conditioned my mind to accept one more blow, the greatest of them all.”
“What did you mean—one?” put in Thalkon tensely. “Which asteroid are you on, and how can you know?”
“Something stuck in my mind,” said Thane slowly, “when the Supreme High said they would orbit close to earth in three days. Not long ago—when I was a disbeliever in UFO’s—I wrote a science article about a sensational but unconfirmed observation made by a Japanese astronomer, claiming he had discovered a new eccentric asteroid. That was about six months ago.”
Thane paused to sort his thoughts. “Eccentric asteroids are those that leave the main flock orbiting between Mars and Jupiter. These mavericks have crazy looping orbits that cross those of Mars and Venus. Icarus even crosses the orbit of Mercury and goes closer to the sun than any other body, except an occasional comet.”
Thane lit a cigarette. “Some of these eccentric asteroids come fairly close to earth and are called earth-grazers, even though they may miss by four million miles or so. Eros is one, also Adonis and Apollo. Hermes came the nearest to earth in 1937, within 485,000 miles or just twice as far away as the moon.”
After a hurried puff, Thane went on quickly. “But the Japanese astronomer was startled to find that his new eccentric earth-grazer would really graze earth—by 7500 miles. Now his hasty calculations, based on insufficient orbi
tal data, could be wrong. The true figure might be 5000 miles.”
“The figure given by the Supreme High,” breathed Miribel, excitedly. “Then it could be…”
Thalkon broke in urgently. “Can you remember any of the orbital data, Thane? If you give us any of the astronomer’s figures, we can piece the rest out.”
Thane furrowed his brow. “After all that has happened,” he muttered half-complainingly, “anything that I wrote only a couple months ago seems so remote…hmm. I think I remember it was azimuth 43.6 degrees…uh…right ascension 11.4 degrees…and declination 65 point something. Latitude, Tokyo figure.”
“And what was the date, Thane? That’s all-important.”
“The date?” Thane knocked knuckles at his temple in frustration. “You’d think I could remember a simple thing like that. But I’m blank…no, wait. I recall saying to myself that guy sure loves his job if he works on a holiday. But which holiday? Christmas?… July the Fourth?… Columbus Day?…aha! That’s it. I remember saying to myself he’s really celebrating Columbus Day by discovering a ‘new world,’ even if it was a tiny asteroid only 1/3 mile across. So that makes it…”
“October 12,” supplied Miribel’s psycho-voice. “We have studied your earthly calendar and important dates.”
“That’s it, Thane. The downfall of Morli—if we hurry.”
Thalkon’s psycho-voice became hesitant as he continued. “I’m sorry to say this but there is no choice. You have 24 hours to escape from the asteroid. Then it will be blown up. Good luck, Thane…and daughter.”
His psycho-voice faded out. Thane and the girl stared at each other.
“24 hours to escape,” mumbled the girl, “from the enemy’s main armed camp, while locked up in a dome. It’s impossible.”
“It’s only the miraculous that gives us trouble,” said Thane with an attempt at lightness. “The impossible we do with ease.”
But he wasn’t fooling the girl—or himself.
Thane was too tired to think. He swayed on his feet, bone-weary from his two days of sleepless madness.
“Got to have a nap,” he muttered, stumbling toward one of the two cots in the corner of the room.
Miribel was equally in need of rest and fell onto the other cot. And so, with only 24 hours left before the deadline of doom, the two slept half of it away.
Miribel awoke first and shook Thane until he opened his eyes droopily. “We have an inner ‘clock’ or time-sense. We’ve slept 12 horns. In 12 more hours the Vigilante fleets will be here to blast the asteroid to bits.”
“Twelve horns to escape—and I still haven’t a plan.” Thane began pacing the floor, trying to think a way out of their dilemma. He stopped in midstride, staring down at the bulky shoes they had been supplied with.
“Miribel, did they feed us during the past two days when I was…uh…out of my head?”
“Yes, Thane. Two guards, heavily armed, came in twice a day with food. They probably came while we were asleep too, but left without awakening us.”
“Does your time-sense tell you when they are due again?” Thane demanded tensely.
“Hmm…I would say in about four hours.”
“Four wasted hours,” said Thane in the tones of a curse. “But anyway, we can go over a plan to overcome the two guards. How were they armed?”
“Each with two weapons at his hip—a blaster and a para-gun that shoots the paralyzer-ray.”
“Did both men come in?”
“No,” said the girl. “One came in with the food while the other stood just outside the door, ready to use his guns if need be. And how can we overcome them?”
“With these,” said Thane. He held up one of his weighted shoes which he had removed, but only with an effort. He dropped the shoe. It struck the floor with a heavy thud. “How do they make them ten times heavier than lead?” he wondered.
“Atom-packing,” said Miribel. “The metal is placed in a powerful force field that constricts at the center. The atoms are simply crushed together until their specific density is 10 times greater than before.”
Another sign of the advanced science-technology the saucermen—whether Vigilantes or Morlians—had brought with them. Thane smiled grimly. “We’ll turn their own technology against them, in this particular case. Now here is how we’ll work it, when the guards come…”
Miribel listened intently and gave a few suggestions of her own.
* * * *
The door swung open after being unlocked and the guard came in, balancing a tray of dishes. The second guard stood watchfully in the doorway.
“Your food,” said the first guard, glancing at the two prisoners, who sat on their cots as if just awakening. Their blankets had fallen carelessly around their feet.
As the guard stooped to set the tray down on the central table, Miribel suddenly yanked something from under her blanket. Using two hands to lift her heavy shoe, she brought it down on the guard’s head. He sank without a sound.
The other guard at the door immediately began tugging at the two weapons slung in his belt. But almost at the same time Miribel had used her shoe, Thane had yanked one of his shoes from under his blanket and flung it toward the doorway.
The guard dodged it, but this threw off his aim as he fired his para-gun. And before he could fire again, Thane’s second shoe smacked straight into his face. With a grunt the guard keeled over.
“Out cold,” gloated Thane, running over, “as if he had been slugged by the world’s champion heavyweight fighter. Those weighted shoes pack a punch.”
Thane dragged the second guard alongside the first guard. Quickly, he took all four of their weapons. He handed the two para-guns to Miribel, tucking the two blasters in his own belt.
“Now for step two,” breathed Thane, “according to our plan. We have to make our way out of these sleeping quarters—our prison was only a spare bunkroom—to the spaceship hangar. And as you surmise, from your knowledge of Morlian architecture, that would be at the far end of the dome. And this is a big dome, maybe a mile wide.”
It seemed almost foolish to try, with innumerable guards between them and their objective. Thane cautiously led the way out of their prison room, closing the door behind them.
They were wearing their weighted shoes again and walked normally down the hallway. At the end of the corridor, where a doorway opened out into the main section of the dome, a guard stood with his back to them.
Silently taking off one shoe, Thane crept up behind him and laid him out with one sweeping blow. “Great weapons, these shoes,” whispered Thane. “Too bad we can’t take them along.”
Shoeless, they slipped out of the doorway. Around them now as the full sweep of the gigantic dome, its top barely visible. Dotted here and there were other barracks buildings, laboratories, workshops arsenals, and all the installations of a warbase.
Dimly, at the far side of the dome, they could see a huge hangar where the Morlian warfleets and scout craft lay. Between them and their goal stood thousands of Morlians.
“All of whom we skip meeting,” grinned Thane, taking the girl’s hand. “Now…. JUMP.”
They jumped straight up. Without the weighted shoes, in the almost negligible gravity of the tiny asteroid, they kept going up—50 feet…a hundred…two hundred. At 500 feet, still sailing up in a currying trajectory, Thane grabbed hold of a girder and clung to it. With his other hand, he easily swung a one-pound Miribel up onto the metal beam.
Thane looked around. They were on one of the spidery network of beams supporting the domed structure. Not a great deal of bracing was needed in this low gravity. The beam was no more than 6 inches wide and an inch thick. On earth or any other planet or moon, these thin girders would have collapsed in seconds.
“Now we simply follow this ‘pathway,’ 500 feet high, to the other
side of the dome,” Thane said exultantly.
“A stroke of genius, that idea,” said Miribel admiringly. “The moment you mentioned it, I realized we had some chance.”
Toning down their leg muscles, they minced their way along the girder to where it joined other girders at the center of the dome, all affixed to a single pillar. Then they strode along another branching girder that led toward the hangar a half-mile away.
“Nobody will think of looking up here for us,” said Thane. “But move slowly so that if any Morlian accidentally glances up and spies us, he won’t be sure—at that distance—whether his eyes are playing him tricks or not.”
Fortunately, the dome’s lighting facilities consisted of a series of luminescent fixtures hanging from the girder system and shining their light downward only. The upper part of the dome, where the two escapees crawled along, was in comparative gloom.
When they reached a position directly over the hanger, Thane halted. “How many hours left before the big blast?”
“Seven,” returned Miribel. “By now, the Vigilante astronomical experts must have calculated just where this asteroid is located in space, from the data you gave. Thalkon has probably already given the order for all warfleets to prepare for action at zero-hour. They are on their way now, from all bases in the solar system.”
A ring of deadly ships closing in on the lone asteroid, ready to blast it to eternity—in seven hours. Thane shivered.
He glanced down. There was the usual bustle and activity below, within and outside of the hanger—mechanics, pilots, workmen and all others, doing their duties. At times a scout ship took off and shot straight up to the dome’s peak, there turning half-transparent and ‘oozing’ out through the solid wall. Thane could still not get over the wonder of it, since experiencing it at the sea dome.