But it’s working, he can do it! Elated, he realizes that this ambiguous alien is transmitting warm, Fatherly sympathy to Doctordan. Apparently the friendly Doctordan is well regarded by the test people, whatever hostility he evokes elsewhere. Thinking this, Giadoc lets his concentration slip and discovers he has done something wrong with the strip of matter on the upper limb.
“Let me, Doctor,” He/she tells him verbally. “You feel rotten, don’t you?”
“Weak,” he admits, watching closely as the strip is wound. Noah has gone out.
“It’s this awful place. If we get out of here alive I’ll be grateful.”
The being is deeply, deeply afraid, he realizes. So are they all, he is receiving a wail of fear-thoughts, images of horrifying captivity, indignities, the “Fearing” monster. Well, not his concern. He presses the other’s mind with an enfolding flow of reassurance, and turns his body to go.
“You forgot to turn it on.”
He turns back, succeeds in following the thought to a cryptic “switch” where he elicits a click and a flow of almost visible dead energy. More marvels—apparently these beings can control inanimate powers. If only he could stay and learn! But where is the Beam?
Noah is in the next compartment, busy with a small, obviously, mind-wounded alien. More expectations greet him: it is the same task all over again. His memory is clear, and this being is not in such tumultuous distress. With rising assurance, Giadoc seizes a strand of matter and begins.
“Hey, Doc, not on my ear.”
Somehow Giadoc fumbles through it, expecting every instant to feel the rising energy of the Beam. Meanwhile he is becoming increasingly pleased with himself. His Father’s soul is moved by the trouble of these wretched aliens, but as a Hearer he is fascinated by their chaotic, extraordinary individuality. Nowhere does he find the communal engrams, the shared world-views like those any Tyrenni Father transmits to his young. These beings seem to have had no Fathering; even these mind-experimenters have no real communication. Each is utterly alone. They are aliens to each other.
Giadoc moves from one to the next, manipulating the strange artifacts, dispensing what comfort he can. Meanwhile he has given up trying to decipher roles and genders; he samples the wildly disparate minds —lonely prides, pains, longings, incomprehensible enthusiasms. Each alone in its different structure and quality. What an extraordinary experiment of nature! How lucky he is to have experienced this.
When he is dealing with the sick young male he had met before he has a surprise. In Tedyost’s mind is a scene of rushing, foaming colors. Why, if is almost like the wind of—a place Giadoc will not think of now. There seems to be some beauty on this world too. What a pity he has no time to explore. Tedyost has apparently been banished from his loved place because of his body’s illness. How unjust, Giadoc muses, recalling just in time to “turn on” the thing. In fact, this seems to be an unjust, dangerous world. Well, perhaps Doctordan when he returns will be able to help them. But why is the Beam delaying?
The last test-person is most pitiable of all, a mind almost formless with fear for some missing family-member.
“Listen, Doc, they’ve done something to Ron. I know it.”
Giadoc can only transmit an emergency pressure of calm, leaving “Rick” staring after him. Noah is blasting out impatience for him to go out to the large enclosure and wait. Giadoc complies.
“Two minutes. Everybody ready?”
Kirk is here too, his dog-animal stationed by his side. Giadoc seats himself, thinking that he must not leave Doctordan’s body to fall downward when the Beam returns, as it surely must any moment now. Hungry for knowledge, he scans the cryptic energy of the “computer.” Oh, for more time!
“Fifteen hundred, three o’clock. Start!”
Nothing happens for an instant—and then a roar on the life-bands rips through the air so fiercely that Giadoc almost retracts his scan.
“A-B-A-J-M! A-B-A-J-M! A-B-A-J-M!”
Great winds, it’s Terenc!
He must have entered the distant test-person, the one in the water-pod somewhere. Now he is acting out his part. His nonsensical repeating signal is so strong it’s bringing fuzzy imagery-scraps. As Giadoc is noticing these, his alien ears are assailed by a yell from Rick.
“That’s not my brother! They’ve done something terrible to Ron!”
Giadoc opens the door and automatically thrusts an emergency-calm field-edge at Rick, while Noah implores, “It’s all right, Ricky! Ron’s all right! Please, Ricky, please don’t spoil the test.”
“He’s not all right,” Rick persists as Terenc’s transmission blares on. But Giadoc’s efforts are having effect. Rick slumps back in his seat and lets Noah replace his marking tools. “Please write down what you got, Rick. We’ll check Ron as soon as it’s over.”
Excitement is emanating from all the compartments; the others are evidently hearing Terenc’s signal all too clearly too. How could they fail?
Giadoc maintains what hold he can on Rick while Noah calls out, “Second group. Start!”—and Terenc’s new signal comes blasting through.
“B-N-O-Z-P! B-N-O-Z-P! B-N-O-”
More agitation from the other cubicles. Giadoc strains to send out a wave of reassurance while keeping pressure on Rick. Oh, when will the Beam come and free him?
“Third group. Start!”
May Terenc fall out of the Wind, Giadoc curses, as the third shout yammers through. The effort to soothe them all is taking all the field-strength he has on this weak world. But Terenc is throwing them close to panic, and it’s his responsibility not to let harm come… The interval seems to take forever.
By the fourth signal even Kirk is showing signs of disturbance, but Giadoc does not care. Where in the Wind’s name is the Beam? They must recall Terenc first.
As the fifth signal howls in, Noah pops his head through the door.
“Dann, I believe I’m getting something myself!” he whispers, his field flaring elatedly. “This is amazing, we must discover the exact conditions. Ron’s never been so good before!”
And never will again, winds willing, Giadoc thinks.
And then to his infinite relief he feels the thrill in the air, the palpable, thrumming, building power of the seeking Beam.
“Take Terenc! Take Terenc first!” he projects with all his might as the last signal-groups come ripping through.
“That’s it!” Noah is shouting happily, rushing among the cubicles. “Identical! Every one identical, Kirk! Oh, wait till they see this. Dann, Dann, come help me get the subjects out.”
But Giadoc does not stir. The huge tension of the Beam is coming to full focus on him now. In a moment he will be away forever and the real Doctordan will be here to do his work. Giadoc wishes them well. But why is it taking so long?
Ah! Energy culminates.
But just as he gathers himself to launch out upon it, he realizes something is wrong. No good, wrong bias! His life is thrown back violently, dazing him, but he realizes the dreadful meaning. “NO! Fathers, you must not!” he sends fiercely.
But it is too late. Familiar energies are blooming into being nearby.
“Doctor Dann, help! Frodo—”
“Dann! Chris is—”
Giadoc staggers through the clamor in the cubicles, already knowing what he will find. Yes—an alien female body is lying screaming on the floor, wreathed in the terrified field of a Tyrenni child. As he stares, the small alien male blunders past him and falls to its knees by the body. Around him surges the huge, unmistakable field of a Father of Tyree. The newcomer clasps the alien girl. The fields merge, the screams cease.
It is the life-field of Giadoc’s son, Tiavan, and his child.
“Criminal! Go back!” Giadoc lashes at him.
“Tyree is burning. I will save my child.” And then Tiavan is wholly preoccupied in Fathering, his alien mouth mumbling “Calm, you’re safe my little one. Father’s here.”
Uproar among the aliens; one is clinging to Giadoc and cr
ying out. The air is humming and bursting with the power of the Beam. The alien Kirk has pushed into the commotion and, unthinkably, is tugging at Tiavan’s small bodily form, trying to pull him from his child. Tiavan mind-strikes him, he staggers back. Then Rick gives a loud scream and falls, while another, smaller Tyrenni field streams out around him. “No wind!” it transmits in horror. But Giadoc has no time to attend, he is almost knocked over by Kirk charging out.
“I’m calling the patrol. You freaks are into my head!”
“No, no, Kirk!” Noah rushes after him.
Giadoc follows in time to see Kirk seizing some energy-device. But as he does so, his body arches backward and he shouts wordlessly, falling. In a moment his own limited energies are replaced by the wildly faring energies of a child of Tyree. At its first cries, the old ambiguous alien stumbles out and falls upon it, another huge Father-field furled around them both. Giadoc thinks he recognizes the life-pattern of Father Colto. Kirk’s animal is circling them, uttering yelps.
“Doctor Dann, what’s happening?” cries the alien still clinging to his arm. Next second she too staggers, still hanging on him, and the life-aura spreads to a pattern he knows: the female Avanil.
“N-o w-wind—” she mumbles, and collapses. There is a final yell and crash from the corridor.
Angered beyond expression, Giadoc stands irresolute in the throbbing, energy-brimming room. Seven Tyrenni are here. Only the old alien Noah is left, so excited that he can only turn in place, gasping, “You—you—Who! We, I think I—” while the power of the Beam rains down, still biassed against him.
Then the dog suddenly falls over, and Giadoc sees a last Tyrenni field striving to form around it.
The Beam clears. He is free to go.
But as he gathers himself, the vision of the two Fathers attempting to comfort their grotesque “children” wrenches him. And Tiavan, his son. How can he leave them to the dangers of this place? Desperately he mind-shouts, “Go back! Undo your crime. This is a dangerous world, your children are not safe here.”
“No!” The figure of Tedyost lurches out of the corridor, a big Tyrenni field streaming about it. But the life is damaged, in terrible disarray; Giadoc can scarcely recognize him.
“Scomber!” he exclaims aloud. “You have done this thing.”
“Yes.” Tedyost’s body falls against the wall and slides downward, while Scomber’s wounded life writhes, trying to restore itself. Beyond him Giadoc can see Tiavan trying to force his small alien body to carry or drag his child in this windless place. It is pathetic beyond bearing. But the power of the Beam is falling and rising oddly; Giadoc must go.
At that moment he becomes aware of alien minds outside, and a hostile emanation from the doorway.
Major Fearing walks into the room.
The hatred he transmits is so shocking that Giadoc is transfixed. Danger here. But the alien’s outward appearance is spuriously calm and relaxed as he gazes around the chaotic room. When he perceives the prone figure of Kirk cuddled in the old alien’s arms his mind forms the words, “They’ve got that fool Kirk.” Meanwhile his mouth is saying smilingly, “Well, Noah, how did your big test go?”
His hand holds out a paper.
Noah comes out of his trance and begins distractedly exclaiming and showing Fearing his results. As he does so, Giadoc can read in Fearing’s thoughts the intent to do some violence to the bodies in which the Tyrenni are, in which his son is; a picture of them lying inert and mindless, something about Doctoraris. The contrast between Fearing’s hatred and his demeanor is frightening, it implies absolute power to do his will. The Beam is flickering again, but Giadoc cannot leave the oblivious Tyrenni now. The Beam will wait for him; it must.
“DANGER! DANGER!” He sends in utmost-emergency mode. But the Fathers are too preoccupied. Only Avanils’ mind starts to respond. But she breaks off, touching the dog, and mind-cries, “Janskelen! Janskelen is in this bad body!”
It is true, Giadoc sees, but he is thinking of protecting Tiavan. He can now read Fearing’s intention to call in his followers and seize the helpless Tyrenni. Great Wind, what can he do? Can he mind-turn Fearing as one would an animal? For even that he needs another Father’s help.
“Tiavan, Colto! Help me for your children’s sake! Tiavan—
As he mind-shouts the Beam falters, rises, sinks away worse than before. Is he about to be trapped here? “Tiavan—Colto—” Meanwhile Fearing is saying with eerie calm, “Remarkable range and accuracy, Doctor. I compliment you. I obviously did not take this as seriously as I should. Fortunately I have been able to make immediate security arrangements.”
“What do you mean, security arrangements?” Noah demands confusedly.
“In your natural enthusiasm, Doctor Catledge, you have overlooked the first and basic consideration of any intelligence capability. Control. Control. This remarkable demonstration makes speed all the more imperative.”
He turns toward the door, flicking a snap of cold energy from his wrist.
It is the last instant for them all, Giadoc understands. “Tiavan! Colto! They are about to take and harm your children! Send them back!”
“But these are people, Major,” Noah is shouting. “This is the United States of America!”
“Precisely,” Fearing says.
At that moment the power of the Beam rises momentarily, and a bolt of life-energy flies through the room, dazing them all. When Giadoc’s senses clear, Fearing is prone on the floor beside the dog, who is squealing and jerking frantically.
Fearing rises awkwardly to one knee and Giadoc, astounded, sees what has happened.
“Janskelen!”
“Y-y-yes,” says the mouth of Fearing.
The door of the room opens and a large alien stands there, its small field oriented to Fearing. “Sir?”
Giadoc abandons all civility and sends a hard mental command into the old female’s mind. Janskelen flinches, but she is quick.
“Remove… that… animal,” she says with Fearing’s voice.
The dog is slavering, attempting to walk on its hind legs, with Fearing’s mind-field whirling about it so madly that it seems impossible the alien does not see. But he only advances a step, studying it phlegmatically.
Noah starts to speak, but Giadoc mind-quells him.
The dog howls and scrambles awkwardly onto the desk.
“Be careful, it is dangerous,” Giadoc says involuntarily.
“Yes sir.” Still with no animation the alien turns to the door and calls. “Deming! Bring a net and a can of four-oh-eight!”
At this the dog screams again and leaps straight for him. The alien ducks aside and the dog bolts out the open door. Shouting from outside. Then the alien turns back and asks, “Do you want Doctor Harris’ team here now, sir?”
Again Giadoc improvises mental commands, and “Fearing” says slowly, “No. Tell them… to go. That will be… all.”
“Yessir.” The alien departs.
Safe, for the moment at least. But the Beam is fading badly, Giadoc must go now or be forever trapped.
“Tyrenni! You are still in peril. Tell this old alien Noah who you are. He may help you. I will not commit life-crime. I go.”
Gathering himself to the failing power, he casts a last scan back on the scene that holds his only child—he will remember it always—and hurls his life up and out onto the frail life-thread. He is just in time, he feels being caught, stretched immaterially in a flash through nowhere. Back to doomed Tyree, back to Tivonel! And Doctordan back to his rightful body. He has made it, he hurtles exultantly. The Beam holds true!
But just as he exults—his universe vanishes.
The skein of vitality that bore him has gone to nothing, there is no Beam. All energy has died. He is only a dwindling nothing adrift in nowhere, all life is draining out of him. He is about to die. And ahead looms a dreadful blackness that his fading mind knows only too well.
The Destroyer.
Goodbye Tyree… Goodby Tivonel… Thought
dies. Helpless in cold and dark, that which had been Giadoc plunges into death.
Chapter 16
In cold black nowhere a tiny thing will not die.
Alone in dark immensity, the energy-configuration that has been a life is almost extinguished. It is stripped of all qualities, shrunk to a single point of not-death in a universe of deathliness. Blind and mindless it strives against annihilation, fighting with no weapons but its puny naked will.
Aeons earlier it had shot here seeking obliteration. But at the end, the life at its core will not let go.
It is alone, alone in the ultimate icy void, falling without motion ever deeper into dark nothingness. Only a fading spark strains, strives for some possibility, some dimension or current or difference to save it from the final dark. It flails limblessly, grasps nothing, struggles without strength or hope against the overwhelming death around it. Deeper and deeper it is swallowed. Its last existence flickers; it is almost gone.
But at this final instant its immaterial being meets an infinitesimal resistance. Something—something is tenuously touched!
Too weak even to feel reprieve, the spark clutches, clings to the unknown contact. And as it does, slow help comes to it. The faltering energy finds itself minutely sustained; the potential gradient that had fallen nearly to zero halts, and begins painfully to steepen again. After an unknown time it is able to stabilize. Now it is more than a point. It becomes a faint but growing constellation around the nucleus. Fragments of its dead self come back to spectral being.
With them comes a first emotion of life—fear. Hideous images of being strangled, frozen, asphyxiated, destroyed in a myriad terrifying ways assault it. The being struggles harder, a frantic mote in the maw of death. It clings to the unknown sustenance, fighting simply to continue to be. And as it strives it strengthens, recruiting the shadowy energy-circuits and complexities of its former life.
Up the Walls of the World Page 20