Don Pendleton's Science Fiction Collection, 3 Books Box Set, (The Guns of Terra 10; The Godmakers; The Olympians)

by Don Pendleton

  “It isn’t like that,” Honor said with a chuckle. “If you don’t want the Rogue to bother you, you can co-exist with him. Just take the easy way in all things. Don’t let yourself get stirred up over human problems. Don’t try to improve yourself or your world. He won’t bother you, then. Course . . . you’ll never find your image, God may never get built, and we might all just drift and rot in hell forever . . . or until the thing destructs.”

  “What the hell’s the sense, then?” Clinton growled. “If you’re saying this thing has the power of a god ..

  “I’m saying he’s the only god we’ve got,” Honor said. “And, contrary to later-day pronouncements, he’s a long way from dead.”

  “So how the hell do you fight a rampaging God?”

  Honor was smiling with a sudden idea. “There is one weapon that can be effective against the Rogue,” he said.

  Clinton was hunched over the wheel, staring alertly ahead. “And what is that?”

  “Sex.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do we do ... screw ’im to death?”

  “Honor laughed. “That’s about it,” he said.

  Clinton began chuckling also. “It’d be a hell of a war, wouldn’t it?” he guffawed. He sobered quickly and added, “But who’s going to sell the idea to my wife?”

  “I’d say that she’s already sold,” Honor replied.

  “Dorothy? Naw. She was just kidding along with Barbara.” He frowned, remembering the events of the afternoon. “Dorothy’s a fine woman, but she’s got a pretty narrow outlook on sex. No. No. Not Dorothy. You’ll have to count us out of your sex war, Pat.” He glanced at his passenger. “You’re just kidding anyway, eh?”

  “No, I’m entirely serious,” Honor assured him. “Sex might very well be our only way out.”

  Clinton sighed heavily. “Dorothy and I will rot in hell, then.”

  Honor smiled and they drove on in silence. Ten minutes later, with no further incidents, they pulled into Clinton’s driveway. “Well,” Clinton said, with another heavy sigh, “this day has been quite a revelation. What else could happen that hasn’t already?”

  Honor climbed out of the car, grinning. He already “knew” the revelation still awaiting Milt Clinton. He waited while the older man walked around the car, then they crossed the lawn together. Honor hesitated at the door, insisting that Clinton go in first. They went through the entry hall with Clinton leading the way, and stepped into the living room.

  Clinton’s breath left him in a strong “whoosh.”

  “Hi!” Dorothy called out gaily. She ran into her husband’s arms and clung to him, her eyes glancing off Honor in a shy smile.

  Barbara insinuated herself into Honor’s embrace and melted against him in a fiery kiss.

  “What the hell is this?” Clinton asked weakly.

  Both women were completely unclothed. Clinton’s eyes wandered to Barbara’s unsettlingly undraped curves and bounced quickly back to his wife. “What’s going on?” he asked again.

  His wife wriggled hotly, pressing with her hips and receiving an immediate reaction from the electrified Clinton. “Barbara and I decided,” she reported breathlessly.

  “Decided what?”

  Her arms snaked up about his neck. Lush breasts spread across his chest. “That you and I should take that route to freedom,” she said.

  “What?”

  Honor chuckled and leaned against Clinton at the shoulder. “Welcome to the hot war, old buddy.”

  “Barbara’s been teaching me mental disciplines,” Dorothy warbled. “I can hardly wait to try them out.”

  “What do I have to do?” Clinton muttered thickly.

  Honor howled and traced the outline of Barbara’s spine with a thumb. She giggled and said, “Just do what comes naturally, Milt. Dorothy will guide you.”

  “It may take a couple of tries, ” Dorothy opined, still pressed warmly in her husband’s arms. “But I’m game to try all night ... if you are.”

  Clinton’s eyes were slightly glassy. He turned a wan smile to Honor. “Hell, I’ve been game for 15 years,” he declared.

  “I’m going to be the root center of your being, did you know that?” Dorothy asked happily.

  Clinton slapped her lightly on the bottom. “You bet you are.” He began nudging her toward the stairway.

  “Not up there,” she said, pushing him toward the living room. Her eyes found Honor and warmed on him. “Come on, you two,” she gasped, then turned back to her husband with, “Barb and I fixed a sort of harem room down here. You don’t mind, do you? It’s very comfortable, all silky and soft.”

  Clinton did not mind. Honor “knew.” Clinton did not mind at all.

  Book III

  RESOLUTION

  1: An Appearance of Evil

  Barbara removed Honor’s shirt, massaged his chest lightly with her hands, and whispered, “I figured it would be best if we stuck pretty close to them. It’s all right, isn’t it?”

  Honor nodded and kicked off his trousers. Dorothy Clinton was a surprisingly well-formed woman, nicer out of clothes than in, and Honor was enjoying the sight of her. She was staring shyly into her husband’s eyes and helping him out of his clothing. Honor was not at all surprised at the good form of his longtime friend and associate, Milt Clinton. The veteran intelligence operative was hard and tight all over with no signs, thanks to regular workouts in the Executive Gym, of the two years of enforced captivity behind a Washington desk.

  Barbara sagged back with her head resting on a large taffeta-covered pillow, drawing Honor down with her. Dorothy, wriggling about on the satin sheet for position, giggled as she tugged her husband down beside her and turned her head to nuzzle Honor’s ear. “Four little bugs in a snug rug,” she cooed happily.

  Honor grinned and patted the hip nearest him, then he raised to an elbow and peered across Dorothy into the eyes of his friend. “You know what this is all about?” he asked soberly.

  Clinton laughed nervously and replied, “Well, it’s my first orgy but I guess I can play it by ear.”

  “I’m speaking of the hot war,” Honor persisted. He looked down at Dorothy, smiled, and said, “It’s obvious that Dotty has been pretty well briefed. I see the truth in her eyes. Just follow her lead.”

  Barbara scooted about suddenly, turning on her side to encircle Honor’s chest with her arms. She flopped a leg over him and let it drape across all three, the foot lying warmly on Clinton’s knee. “You’d better explain libido projection to him,” she suggested.

  Clinton was staring at the svelte leg. “My libido is fine, thanks,” he mumbled.

  “Just try very hard to keep your mind off of your own reactions,” Honor told him. “Try to blend in with Dotty’s subjectivity, try to understand what she is feeling and how she is feeling.”

  “And I’ll do the same to you,” Dotty put in glowingly.

  Clinton groaned. He pushed Barbara’s foot away. “If I’m going to have to do this by the numbers, forget it already,” he said.

  Honor chuckled, lightly ran a finger the length of Dorothy’s torso, and twisted about to take Barbara in his arms. “No numbers,” he said. “Just follow your own pace. Give yourself to the moment and don’t try to shut out anything that might tap at your mind. Let it in.”

  Clinton’s voice floated back strained and strange. “How do I know it’s not the Rogue?”

  “You’ll never find the Rogue in a tangle like this,” Honor assured him.

  There was a threshing at Honor’s side. A pair of shapely legs flashed high and seemed to hang there in quivering suspension. Dorothy Clinton was giggling in a muffled voice. A moment later she moaned, “Ohhh Milt! That’s good!”

  Barbara pulled at Honor and said, “Better hurry. They’ve left us at the gate.”

  Honor chuckled and moved in vigorously. He tried a light probe of his neighbors and met with immediate success. Clinton’s mind was tumbling and lost in utter subjectivity. Dorothy’s fie
ld was somewhat better but also erotically frantic. Honor moved swiftly through Clinton’s confusion, organizing the tumbling energies and encouraging an inductance into Dorothy’s shrieking synapses. She gasped and flung her legs about; Clinton froze momentarily, then cried, “My God! My God!” . . . and fell into a quietly exploratory movement.

  They’re okay, Barb.

  Yes. Aren’t they wonderful! I love them, Pat.

  Stay close. Pace yourself to Dotty. I’ll be with Milt

  Oh Pat! I love him through us!

  Yes, yes, and I love her through us.

  This is a grand unity, my darlings!

  Cool it a little, Barb. Not too subjective.

  Moments later, four carnal projections were swirling across an infinite sea of bliss, locked together in a squared union of mind and body, the value of their grand assumption far greater than the sum of the particulars.

  “For God’s sake, Pat, this is something else!” Clinton exclaimed excitedly. “Where are we?”

  “Infinity.”

  “Infinity? But I. . . don’t . . .”

  “You will see. We cross the sea of freedom. Remember this. Sex through human consciousness is the first harmonic to either side of freedom. This is why sex has been such a forbidden pastime for so many ages.”

  “But who forbade?” Dorothy gasped. “Why? Why forbid such rapture?”

  “The Rogue, the self-perpetuating mutant, forbade it. It had to be so, and he knew it.”

  “Sex has been tolerated,” Barbara added, “because the race would have perished without it, and so would the Rogue. So he has given us crumbs, but with guilt, with shame, in degradation. Under such a burden, how many would find this place?”

  “I’m not complaining,” Clinton said, “so don’t misunderstand me. But is this all there is to it? I mean—just infinity?”

  “This is most of it, as I understand,” Honor replied. “We are moving through the uncreated.”

  “What does that mean?” Dorothy asked.

  “It awaits the mind of God in man.”

  “What?" from Clinton.

  “Your understanding will progress geometrically,” Honor assured him. “I don’t want to steal the joy from your own self-realization. Keep your minds open, both of you. When you are ready, you will see the image.” “What image?” Clinton asked.

  “Wait for a tug. Then follow it. Don’t worry about us. We will be nearby.”

  “Ohhh!” Dorothy cried moments later. “Ohhh beautiful, beautiful.”

  “Let yourself go,” Honor urged gently.

  Clinton followed almost instantly. “Hey!” he said. “Well for . . . yes, yes.” His astral arms were outflung as he rapidly receded into the infinite.

  “I envy them their first time across,” Barbara said softly.

  “It is only the beginning of wonders,” Honor commented. “Let’s go find Hadrin and Octavia. We have some things to discuss.”

  Barbara lifted herself to all fours, above the tangle, and swung her belled hips into a slow descent onto her own haunches. “Boy!” she exclaimed wonderingly.

  Dorothy raised to one elbow and swung groggy eyes onto her guest. “What happened?” she mumbled, as though intoxicated.

  “Don’t you remember?” Barbara asked, smiling with her own delicious memories.

  “Oh, my God, Dorothy said in misery-laden tones. “This is ... terrible. I must have lost my senses.” She delicately touched her husband’s shoulder. “Milt? Milton!” She closed her eyes and sank back to the satiny pallet.

  Pat! She doesn’t remember!

  From another universe, Honor’s reply came firm and sure: She will. Talk her back, Barb. It’s the influence of error, the appearance of evil.

  “What will Milt think of me?” Dorothy moaned.

  “What do you think of him?” Barbara asked calmly.

  Dorothy rose up again and glared at her companion. “It’s so cheap and . . . tawdry. All these years of marriage, and it came finally to something like this. Group sex. God knows what else.” Her eyes flared suddenly and jumped to an instant inspection of Honor. “I-I seem to remember a ... did we swap?” she finished weakly.

  “In a manner of speaking,” Barbara replied solemnly.

  “Oh God no!” Dorothy wailed, sinking again onto her back.

  “You enjoyed it,” Barbara observed brightly. “I know you did. Admit it. Didn’t you enjoy it?”

  “What’s that have to do with anything?” Dorothy muttered. She clenched both hands across her eyes.

  “You enjoyed it because it was beautiful. Think back and recapture the beauty of the experience, Dotty.

  Think about it, think deeply, then tell me—and tell yourself—where is the evil? Back there, in the beauty? Or out here, in the remembrance of it?”

  Dorothy’s hands slid down to lie across her throat. She angled her head toward Barbara and returned the direct gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you accept beauty, believing that it was evil?” Dorothy shook her head in mute response.

  “And do you now accept evil, remembering that it was beauty?”

  Dorothy came up onto the elbow again. She rubbed her hip and hastily jerked back from an accidental contact with Honor’s leg. Her eyes widened as she stared at Honor’s unconscious form. Something seemed to be forming in her mind. “It . . . I . . . it was beautiful,” she whispered. “I ... was I dreaming? There was a . . . a . . .” She shivered violently and shrank from Barbara’s warm gaze. “No ... no! This is .. . madness! It’s awful!”

  Barbara’s voice was patient and understanding. “Look through the appearance, Dotty. The Rogue throws an appearance of evil over the most beautiful human expressions. Don’t be deceived by the cloak of the Rogue. He denies truth by hanging an odious atmosphere about it.”

  “The Rogue!' Dorothy replied faintly. “Yes, I . . . think . . .”

  “He cloaks the beauties of human sex beneath an appearance of evil,” Barbara went on relentlessly. “Some people dive beneath the cloak to sample the beauties there, then go away content and undismayed that the cloak is still firmly in place. These are the ones who suffer the most. Are you going to rip it off once and for all? Will you renounce the sea of freedom, Dotty? Will you flee from the truth of your eternal being?”

  Dorothy’s eyes came up strong and bright. She rippled her tummy and moistened her lips with her tongue, interlacing one of her legs with Honor’s. “I remember,” she whispered in awed tones.

  You’d better get back here quick, Pat! She was gazing across Honor’s slumbering body and into the expanding awareness of Dorothy Clinton, whose heavy breasts were now making light contact with Honor’s arm. The cloak has been ripped asunder!

  And the Rogue strikes out, came Honor’s distant reply. Cool her. We’ll be back in a moment.

  “I heard that,” Dorothy said, her eyes wide pools of awe. She threw herself prone across Honor and wrapped her arms about Clinton, on one side, and Barbara on the other.

  “The Rogue struck out, all right,” Barbara murmured.

  2: The Evolvers

  In the days and nights immediately following that day of convulsion and revelation, Honor, Barbara, and the Clintons became more and more “as one.” Various frightening incidents plagued and cautioned them. The heating system in the basement of the Clintons’ home, though secured and idle for the summer months, exploded moments after an aroused Patrick Honor had flushed everyone out of the house. Only minor damage was incurred by the property, but the knowledge of the danger hampered future “out of body” excursions by the occupants. Enroute to the Virginia farm, some hours afterward, all four of the blowout-proof tires on Clinton’s steamer “blew out” simultaneously with the vehicle moving slowly along a straight stretch of highway. Seconds earlier they had been hissing along at 160 MPH and rapidly approaching a sharp turn onto a narrow bridge; again, Honor’s “alarm system” had saved them. Later that same day, a swarm of thousands of angry hornets descended upon the barn lab at the f
arm, less than a minute after Honor had sealed all the windows and doors.

  “The bastard’s using everything in the arsenal,” Clinton had observed sourly.

  “Look for it to get worse,” was Honor’s advice. “We’ve got him worried now. I believe he knows what we’re up to.”

  On June 16th, President Wilkins resumed his interrupted occupancy of the White House. Special precautions, under Honor’s guidance, had been taken to assure the security of the ancient structure. Several water pipes nevertheless ruptured in the Presidential Apartment on the night of June 16th. Little Angie Wilkins, at the time preparing for her bath, was saved from a severe scalding by the alert actions of Patrick Honor. The President himself was soaked by a spraying cold water line, but was unharmed.

  At a special conference later that evening, Honor warned, “He hasn’t given up on you, sir. And it appears that he is marshalling the unconscious forces to his cause. I cannot overemphasize the danger.”

  “How does he do it?” the President mused. Pale, shaken, and angry over the attack upon his daughter, he was still coolly collected.

  “It’s really quite easy, sir,” Honor replied. “You see, all he has to do is imbalance the ...” His words trailed off and he stared speculatively toward the far wall. He turned to the Chief of the Secret Service detail and said, “Isn’t there oxygen in this building?”

  “Sure,” the SS man replied, “down in the emerg—”

  “Inspect those bottles thoroughly,” Honor snapped. “Put heavy duty regulators on them and get ’em up here as soon as possible. I mean like ten minutes ago!” The man nodded his understanding and hurried from the room. “What is that all about?” Wilkins asked uneasily.

  “The Law of Chaos,” Honor muttered.

  “Sir?”

  “You probably know it better as the Law of Diffusion ... or irregularity ...”

  “Thermal motion,” Clinton put in.

  “Yes,” Honor said. “Our bewildering physical sciences have given it many names. The Law of Entropy, the Second Law of Thermodynamics. It’s still the Law of Chaos, though, and the Rogue can disrupt that law almost at will.”