The Intervention (Omnibus)

by Julian May

  "The phenomenon was generated by an empathy spasm of the col­lective Gi conscious," Noetic Concordance explained, "that took place as they commiserated with the aged Earthling's poignant meditations. The harmonic passed from the mental lattices to the consonant geophysical ones, setting off the tremor. One notes that the reverse of the phenomenon is common enough. Trust the Gi to come up with a unique twist. "

  "Trust them to come up with arrant nincompoopery, " said Trend. "One is strongly inclined to excuse the Gi Fleet from further participa­tion in this convocation. Given the delicacy of the approaching climax, the consequences of its lapse could have been extremely serious. "

  "The Gi are contrite, " Essence said. "They have taken our rebuke to heart. They pledge that they will henceforth control the racial tendency to emotional ebullience. "

  "They'd jolly well better, " Trend declared, "or they can watch the finale from the backside of Pluto! Don't they realize that Unifex is in the process of exerting Its ultimate influences? As It draws the skeins of probability taut, the slightest skew off the median may confute the solidifying nodes. "

  "Surely not, " Eupathic Impulse protested. "Not on the very threshold of Intervention!"

  "The resolution rests now with the operant Earthlings, " Trend told the other three, "and possibly with the great Interloper Itself, whose ways remain as mystifying as ever. The rest of us are permitted only to watch and pray. Join with me, fellow entities, to remind the fleet of this solemn fact. "

  The four Lylmik minds projected the thought, using the imperative mode; and it was affirmed by each and every one of the invisible starships hovering expectantly about the planet Earth — ships of the Krondak Polity, the Poltroyan, the Simbiari, and even the penitent Gi —sum­moned from every part of the 14th Sector of the Galactic Milieu in hopes of hearing the Intervention signal that only Atoning Unifex might utter.

  Together with the great living cruiser of the Lylmik Supervisors, the convocation of exotic vessels numbered twenty thousand seven hun­dred and thirty-six.

  The main dining room of the hotel was crowded for breakfast; but because most of the guests were operants who exerted effortless sub­liminal compulsion upon the hard-working waitrons, things ran very smoothly. None of the service personnel realized that they were being gently coerced. Nevertheless, because their minds were in a receptive frame, they were able to visualize the needs of the patrons even though they themselves were normals. There were no miswritten orders, no tables that were neglected while others were overserviced, no perfectly cooled cups of coffee topped off on the sly by overzealous pot-wielders. There was not even much noise, since the delegates who had gathered for this final day of the Metapsychic Congress did most of their con­versing on the intimate telepathic mode — cool and smiling on the outside while they voiced their apprehensions or complaints mentally.

  Rogi came into the dining room after seeing Pyotr safely to the ele­vator and waved off the maitress d'. "Thanks, Linda. I'll just join my family. " But send somebody pronto to take my order I'm starving to death there's a good kid...

  Lucille and Denis and their three oldest children were well into their meal as Rogi slipped into the empty chair at the big round table near the window, sitting between Philip and Severin. A waiter appeared at once and Rogi ordered oeufs dans le sirop d'érable and hot sourdough bread.

  Yucko!

  The telepathic critique slipped out of the mind of ten-year-old Severin as the rest of the family greeted Rogi verbally. Lucille looked at her son and the boy gave a start and sat up very straight. He said, "I beg your pardon, Uncle Rogi. It was rude of me to make such a comment. "

  "De rien. " Rogi smiled. "Eggs in maple syrup are an old-fashioned Franco dish. Even though they aren't on the menu, the chef knows well enough how to prepare them. When I was a child my Aunt Lorraine used to make them for us on special occasions... when our spirits were in need of a lift. "

  "It's that kind of a day, " Denis conceded.

  "The vibes, " Philip observed, "are mucho malific. "

  "And two carloads of deadheads just showed up at the main gate to start picketing!" Severin added.

  Lucille said: Sevvy. How many times must I tell you not to use that epithet particularly in vocal speech when there are normals about who may hear you...

  The little boy sighed. "I'm sorry that I used the insulting expression, " he mumbled; but his farspeech, imperfectly directed to his two older brothers, belied the apology:

  Well they are dead from the neck up and they hate our guts and right this minute do you know what they're hollering at the delegates coming in from the other hotels? they're hollering FREAKS&HEADS! FREAKS&HEADS! YOUR MA SHOULDA KNOWED YOU WERE BETTER OFF DEAD! so who's really the deadhead huh? maybe we are to let 'em get away with that shit we should do like the Russians and show 'em what Heads can do to defend themselves if Assholes mess with us —

  Denis said: Severin.

  Severin said: Oops.

  Philip and Maurice, their eyes on their plates and their barriers in place, sat very still.

  Denis said: Severin your Mama and I felt that you were mature enough to come to this Congress to participate in the life of the adult operant community at this crucial stage in our evolution. Some of the input you've experienced here is positive and some is negative but all of it should nurture mental growth.

  "Yes, Papa, " Severin said. But I just wish there was some way we could make the normals stop hating us make them like us for their own good and ours too —!

  "Learning to like someone, " said Severin's oldest brother Philip sen­tentiously, "as opposed to the spontaneous goodwill experienced between compatible personalities, may take considerable time and require a large expenditure of psychic energy. Tolerance is particularly difficult for normals — who lack the insight faculties that we operants tend to take for granted. Normals almost invariably form value judgments ac­cording to prejudicial or superficial criteria. "

  "For example, " Maurice chimed in, "a normal would look at Severin and see only a scowling young pipsqueak with egg on his tie... whereas we, using metapsychic perceptions, can scrutinize his very soul and realize that beneath his unprepossessing exterior lurks a truly depraved little pillock. "

  I'll get you guys! Severin declared.

  Boys! said Lucille.

  Rogi laughed. "Yes, they're boys, all right. "

  Denis glanced at his watch. "Professor Malatesta's symposium on psychoeconomic vector theory starts in five minutes in the Gold Room. Philip and Maurice — you won't want to be late. "

  "No, Papa. " Still chortling mentally, the pair bade courteous farewell and sauntered out of the dining room. At sixteen and fourteen, they were both already taller than their father. Philip was doing postgraduate work in bioenergetics at Harvard. Maurice, winding up his B.A. require­ments at Dartmouth, was toying with the notion of taking a degree in philosophy before entering medical school.

  Rogi said to Denis and Lucille: There was an ugly undertone in that little bit of by-play among the boys. I think all three of them are scared silly.

  Denis said: You're right of course.

  Lucille said: None of them has ever had to face such a concentration of enmity before. You know what an operant sanctuary Hanover is. Philip's had a few disagreeable experiences at Harvard but that place is really too hypercivilized to permit any serious incidents. This encoun­ter with the Sons of Earth in all their deep-dyed yahoo splendor has shaken my babies rather badly. One's first meeting with hatred en masse is apt to do that.

  Rogi said: You might want to consider sending the kids home.

  Denis said: The security people will keep the situation under control. The boys will have to face situations like this sooner or later. They may as well do it with the support of their mental peers.

  Rogi said: Even Sevvy? Denis he's ten!

  Denis asked his son, "What do you think about going home from the Congress a little early? You've had five days' worth. Phil could drive you and Maury t
o Hanover —"

  Severin's face crumpled. "And miss the banquet on top of the moun­tain? When it might even storm up there?"

  Denis tried not to smile. "I was concerned that the unpleasant aetheric nuances from the demonstrators might be upsetting. "

  Severin glumly stirred his cold scrambled eggs with a fork. "I can cope, Papa. "... But those ol' Sons better not mess with me!

  Lucille said, "If you do stay we'll expect you to behave like an adult, Sevvy. An operant adult. "

  "I promise to do my best, Mama. "

  "Good. Finish your breakfast then. " She glanced appealingly at Rogi, posing a mental question: Would it be too much trouble for you to keep him with you for a while? Both Denis and I must sit on a rather boring panel.

  Rogi said, "If you two would like to abandon us, feel free. Sevvy and I will take our time eating and meet you later. "

  The waiter arrived with Rogi's meal as Denis and Lucille left. The boy showed immoderate interest in the big dish of eggs poached in hot maple syrup. They were accompanied by a goblet of freshly squeezed pink grapefruit juice and a smoking-hot loaf that sat on its own minia­ture breadboard. Rogi smacked his lips and tucked his napkin boldly into his collar. He turned the loaf on its side and sawed off a couple of aromatic slices, passing one to Severin.

  "Look here, young man. Your food's gone stone cold and I've got more than enough for the two of us. I know these oeufs look weird, but they smell good, don't they?"

  "Yeah... "

  Without another word, Rogi divided the eggs and showed the boy how to moosh them up and eat them with a spoon while sopping the bread in the delicious mess. Severin was delighted with this confounding of bourgeois table etiquette. He tied his own napkin around his neck and fell to.

  "I've got an idea for when we're done, " Rogi said. "I have to help the building engineer fix up the big downstairs meeting room for Professor Jamie's show-and-tell at one-thirty. We'll bring in high-voltage power cables from the transformer room and set up an auxiliary board for the demonstration. You want to help?"

  "Wow, yo!" said Severin, through a mouthful of eggs.

  Rogi said: Keeping busy is another good way to damp the bad vibes. At least I've found that it works.

  You mean you got the fantods too?

  Doggone right. Off-key goblin bassoons whooping in the pit of my stomach and thousand-leggers skating up the back of my neck.

  ... Some of those Sons out there really would like to kill us.

  I know Sevvy.

  Would you let 'em? Rather than hurt them in self-defense?

  The Ethic you've been taught tells you the answer.

  I know the Altruism Ethic I want to know what you would do.

  I'm just a primitive sort of head not in the same league as you and your parents and the other giantbrains at this Congress —

  Answer me straight don't futz me like a little kid!

  Nonviolence is a wonderful ideal but dangerous it's amazing that so many people do opt for it. Me I don't think I'd have the strength.

  If those militant doodoodomes aren't fought they get worse!

  The dilemma will probably remain academic thank God.

  No but the whole thing really bothers me a lot I've tried to under­stand Phil&Maury say they believe AltruismEthic just like Mama&Papa but I can see into their minds and they're not sure either.

  Lord I believe help my unbelief...

  Sort of. The Ethic does seem right from the point of view of all­operantstogether because it's noble you know it catches the attention of the normals FatherAndy calls it moral suasion but it's not something you have to do is it I don't see what's wrong with the Russian heads saying they'll defend their country mentally what good would it do them to be noble and a beautiful example of nonviolence if they all died?

  Tough question. If you ever find a good answer Sevvy tell me.

  As Lucille and Denis passed through the crowded lobby she said: Let me just stop at the newsstand for a moment before we go on to Vanderlaan's panel... Good heavens! The entire portico of the hotel is swarming with police!

  Denis said: The hotel security chief is calling in virtually every off-duty officer in northern New Hampshire — and a few from Maine. It will cost us a bundle but I authorized the expenditure.

  ... Even though none of the pEEps detected any unusual activity?

  Especially because they didn't.

  Lucille said to the clerk in the hotel boutique, "I'll take this little package of aspirin. And do you have a PD of today's Pravda in Eng­lish?"

  "American or Eurasian format?"

  "American, please. "

  "I'll call it up in a jiff, " the girl said, turning to her register console.

  Denis said: I told you I'd excurse to Moscow and check with Tamara late tonight.

  Lucille's tone was irritable: Quick reassurances don't tell me enough. I want the background. The differing viewpoints.

  There's nothing we can do to influence events over there. If the operants win they win and it will probably be more of a disaster in the long run than if they are forced into exile.

  "Cash or charge?" inquired the clerk brightly.

  Lucille handed over her credit card. "Charge. "

  Denis said: If the Red Army and the Party survivors agree to a coali­tion with Tamara's operants it will only be one based on force... coercion to control a panicking population or to intimidate the enemies of the state.

  "Eight sixty-three, please, no sales tax in New Hampshire but we have to add excise for the plaque-disk of that particular newspaper. May I have your thumb here? Thanks a bundle — and you have a lovely day. " The clerk handed over the purchases and Lucille tucked them into her purse.

  A lovely day! she reiterated ironically. The loveliest sight I can imag­ine at this moment is the National Guard rolling in the gate ready to camp on the golf course... But instead there are more demonstra­tors showing up I don't even have to EE outside to know it I can feel their thoughts mindlessly massing: Off the heads off the heads off the heads...

  Denis reached out and enveloped her in redactive comfort. The chant­ing faded, along with the small headache that had plagued her since rising. Delegates arriving from the other hotels swarmed all around them, heading for the different function rooms, but they were sound­less, and even their movements seemed diffident and ghostly.

  Denis said: You are not to worry. By evening it should all be over. We'll dine among the thunderclouds with serene minds and the confla­gration of ions will wipe out all remnants of the haters' farspeech leav­ing us in peace.

  You really don't think the demonstrators will try to follow us up the mountain?

  No. They'd have to use the Carriage Road and the State Police are prepared to barricade it at the first sign of trouble. We'll have to endure their taunts throughout the day and there may be a few skirmishes if the pickets try to sneak onto the grounds again but there's no danger. You want proof? Jamie's daughter Katie claims to have the Sight you know and when I spoke briefly to Ilya this morning he said his wife sees nothing but great things happening today... Now all we — "Damn, " he said out loud. "My pager. "

  Full-sensory reality claimed Lucille with painful suddenness. Denis pressed the stud on his watchband that halted the persistent prickling, then studied the message crawling across the Omega's digital strip.

  "I'm to call the President, " he said.

  Lucille stared at him in blank dismay, then burst out: Don'tyouDARE go to Washington you're the Chair of this affair you have to SPEAK tonight I won'tdoitforyouthistimedamnityoucan'tgoyouhavenomorecleanshirts!

  He kissed her cheek. "Don't worry. Go to our panel. And try not to let anybody catch you reading your newsplaque during the dull bits. "

  Then he was off for the hotel manager's office and the secure landline that had been set up for a certain contingency.

  Kieran O'Connor turned up the gain on the painkilling device that had been spliced into his nervous system, hating himself for the cow­
ardice at the same time that he welcomed the wondrous semiorgasmic numbness that suffused his lower body, releasing him. It was ten min­utes until noon and time to pull himself into shape for the showdown with Victor. Fortunately, that wouldn't take long.

  Forgive me Black Mother soon I will return. Dam dham nam tam tham dam dham nam pam pham.

  His farsensory faculties returned and he was once again able to expe­rience the crashing waters of Upper Ammonoosuc Falls as it ramped and plunged over shiny granite ledges and boiled whitely through the monstrous potholes it had drilled in the tough bedrock. A blustery wind had sprung up that ripped the cascade's mists into furious wraiths that would have soaked any tourist brave enough to venture onto the small observation platform. But nobody was there. The parking lot of the modest roadside park was empty except for the silver Mercedes in which Kieran O'Connor sat alone.

  He had rented the car at Dorval Airport in Montreal and driven it to this specified meeting place, along Base Station Road not far from the Mount Washington cog railway's lower terminus. He was thankful that all but thirty-five of the 345 kilometers of the drive had been on pilot-stripped auto-routes or freeways, giving him a chance to sleep off some of the jet lag. In order to foil the Justice Department surveillance team he had traveled from Chicago to New Hampshire via Seattle, Krung Thep, Bombay, Johannesburg, Fiumicino, Gatwick, and Montreal — shedding the last pEEp agent in the chaotic concourses of Aeroporto Leonardo da Vinci. He was certain now that none of the government investigators would be able to trace him to this Congress — much less uncover his connection to Victor Remillard or the local branch of the Sons of Earth. The only potentially weak link had been Shannon — and just as Kieran had anticipated, she had been painstakingly discreet since betraying her pathetic dupe of a husband. Even more than her father, she wanted no hint of Victor's involvement with the O'Connor empire to come to the attention of the Attorney General.

  Kieran's eyes filled, surprising him, and he realized that for the first time he was mourning her loss. It should have been the daughter to inherit the night, not the daughter's daughter. But Kali would have her jest... O Mother of Power, forgive her as you forgive me.