The Sensitive Man

by Poul Anderson

find homo superior?"

  "If I don't plug that radio com-set before they can use it," he said,"I'll be homo-genized."

  "You can't laugh it off," she said through taut lips. "If you aren'tof our species I have to assume you're our enemy--till you proveotherwise!" Her fingers closed hard on his arm. "Is that what yourlittle gang at the Institute is doing? Have they decided that merehumanity isn't good enough to be civilized? Are they preparing the wayfor your kind to take over?"

  "Listen," he said wearily. "Right now we're two people, very mortalindeed, being hunted. So shut up!"

  He took the pistol from her holster and slipped a full clip into itsmagazine. His vision was at high sensitivity now, her face showedwhite against the wet rock with gray highlights along its strongcheekbones beneath the wide frightened eyes. Beyond the reefs the seawas gunmetal under the stars, streaked with foam and shadow.

  Ahead of him, as he rose to his feet, the line of guards stood out aspaler darknesses against the vertiginous island face. They had mounteda heavy machine-gun to point seaward and a self-powered spotlight,not turned on, rested nearby. Those two things could be dangerous butfirst he had to find the radio set that could call the whole garrisondown on them.

  _There!_ It was a small hump on the back of one man, near the middleof the beach. He was pacing restlessly up and down with a tommy-gun inhis hands. Dalgetty raised the pistol with slow hard-heldconcentration, wishing it were a rifle. _Remember your target practicenow, arm loose, fingers extended, don't pull the trigger butsqueeze--because you've got to be right the first time!_

  He shot. The weapon was a military model, semi-noiseless and with nobetraying streak of light. The first bullet spun the goon on his heelsand sent him lurching across sand and rock. Dalgetty worked thetrigger, spraying around his victim, a storm of lead that _must_ ruinthe sender.

  Chaos on the beach! If that spotlight went on with his eyes at theirpresent sensitivity, he'd be blind for hours. He fired carefully,smashing lens and bulb. The machine-gun opened up, stuttering, wildlyinto the dark. If someone elsewhere on the island heard thatnoise--Dalgetty shot again, dropping the gunner over his weapon.

  Bullets spanged around him, probing the darkness. One down, two down,three down. A fourth was running along the upward path. Dalgetty firedand missed, fired and missed, fired and missed. He was getting out ofrange, carrying the alarm--_there!_ He fell slowly, like a jointeddoll, rolling down the trail. The two others were dashing for theshelter of a cave, offering no chance to nail them.

  Dalgetty scrambled over the rock, splashed into the bay and struck outfor the shore. Shots raked the water. He wondered if they could hearhis approach through the sea-noise. Soon he'd be close enough fornormal night vision. He gave himself wholly to swimming.

  His feet touched sand and he waded ashore, the water dragging at him.Crouching, he answered the shots coming from the cave. The shriek andyowl were everywhere around him now. It seemed impossible that theyshould not hear up above. He tensed his jaws and crawled toward themachine-gun. A cold part of him noticed that the fire was in a randompattern. They couldn't see him then.

  The man lying by the gun was still alive but unconscious. That wasenough. Dalgetty crouched over the trigger. He had never handled aweapon like this but it must be ready for action--only minutes ago ithad tried to kill him. He sighted on the cave mouth and cut loose.

  Recoil made the gun dance till he caught onto the trick of using it.He couldn't see anyone in the cave but he could bounce lead off itswalls. He shot for a full minute before stopping. Then he crawled awayat an angle till he reached the cliff. Sliding along this heapproached the entrance and waited. No sound came from inside.

  He risked a quick glance. Yes, it had done the job. He felt a littlesick.

  Elena was climbing out of the water when he returned. There was astrangeness in the look she gave him. "All taken care of?" she askedtonelessly.

  He nodded, remembered she could hardly see the movement, said aloud,"Yes, I think so. Grab some of this hardware and let's get moving."

  With his nerves already keyed for night vision it was not difficult toheighten other perceptions and catch her thinking ... _not human_._Why should he mind if he kills human beings when he isn't onehimself?_

  "But I do mind," he said gently. "I've never killed a man before and Idon't like it."

  She jerked away from him. It had been a mistake, he realized. "Comeon," he said. "Here's your pistol. Better take a tommy-gun too if youcan handle it."

  "Yes," she said. He had lowered his reception again, her voice fellquiet and hard. "Yes, I can use one."

  _On whom?_ he wondered. He picked up an automatic rifle from one ofthe sprawled figures. "Let's go," he said. Turning, he led the way upthe path. His spine prickled with the thought of her at his back,keyed to a pitch of near-hysteria.

  "We're out to rescue Michael Tighe, remember," he whispered over hisshoulder. "I've had no military experience and I doubt that you'veever done anything like this either, so we'll probably make everymistake in the books. But we've got to get Dr. Tighe."

  She didn't answer.

  At the top of the path Dalgetty went down on his stomach again andslithered up over the crest. Slowly he raised his head to peer infront of him. Nothing moved, nothing stirred. He stooped low as hewalked forward.

  The thickets fenced off vision a few yards ahead. Beyond them, at theend of the slope, he could glimpse lights. Bancroft's place must beone glare of radiance. How to get in there without being seen? He drewElena close to him. For a moment she stiffened at his touch, then sheyielded. "Any ideas?" he asked.

  "No," she replied.

  "I could play dead," he began tentatively. "You could claim to havebeen caught by me, to have gotten your gun back and killed me. Theymight lose suspicion then and carry me inside."

  "You think you could fake _that_?" She pulled away from him again.

  "Sure. Make a small cut and force it to bleed enough to look like abullet wound--which doesn't usually bleed much, anyway. Slow downheartbeat and respiration till their ordinary senses couldn't detectthem. Near-total muscular relaxation, including even those unromanticaspects of death which are so rarely mentioned. Oh yes."

  "Now I know you aren't human," she said. There was a shudder in hervoice. "Are you a synthetic thing? Did they make you in thelaboratory, Dalgetty?"

  "I just want your opinion of the idea," he muttered with a flicker ofanger.

  It must have taken an effort for Elena to wrench clear of her fear ofhim. But then she shook her head. "Too risky. If I were one of thosefellows, with all you've already done to make me wonder about you, thefirst thing I'd do on finding your supposed corpse would be to put abullet through its brain--and maybe a stake through its heart. Or canyou survive that too?"

  "No," he admitted. "All right, it was just a thought. Let's work a bitcloser to the house."

  They went through brush and grass. It seemed to him that an army wouldmake less noise. Once his straining ears caught a sound of boots andhe yanked Elena into the gloom under a palmetto. Two guards trampedby, circling the land on patrol. Their forms loomed huge and blackagainst the stars.

  Near the edge of the grounds Dalgetty and Elena crouched in the longstiff grass and looked at the place they must enter. The man had hadto lower his visual sensitivity as they approached the light. Therewere floodlights harsh on dock, airfield, barracks and lawn, withparties of guards moving around each section. Light showed in only onewindow of the house, on the second story. Bancroft must be there,pacing and peering out into the night where his enemy stirred. Had hecalled by radio for reinforcements?

  At least no airboat had arrived or left. Dalgetty knew he would haveseen one in the sky. Dr. Tighe was here yet--if he lived.

  Decision grew in the man. There was a wild chance. "Are you much of anactress, Elena?" he whispered.

  "After two years as a spy I'd better be." Her face bore a hint ofpuzzlement under the tension as she looked at him. He could guess herthought--_For a superman, h
e asks some simple-minded questions. Butthen what is he? Or is he only dissembling?_

  He explained his idea. She scowled. "I know it's crazy," he told her,"but have you anything better to offer?"

  "No. If you can handle your part...."

  "And you yours." He gave her a bleak look, but there was an appeal init. Suddenly his half-glimpsed face looked strangely young andhelpless. "I'll be putting my life in your hands. If you don't trustme you can shoot. But you'll be killing a lot more than me."

  "Tell me what you are," she said. "How can I know what the ends of theInstitute are when they're using