The 47th Golden Age of Science Fiction

by Chester S. Geier

  Eyes riveted on his double in the bed, Dunn tried to organize his whirling thoughts for an explanation of what this incredible situation meant. What possibly could have happened that there should be two of him? Had he — died? Was it his earthly shell that he saw in bed?

  As a nuclear technician, trained in scientific realities, he was inclined to reject this thought. He felt as solid and alive as he ever did. It was impossible to believe that he could be dead. Yet the fact that there were two of him was something he could not explain on a normal, physical basis.

  Feeling suddenly that he had to talk to someone about what had happened to him, he turned and hurried toward the door. Vince Hal leek lay sleeping in the next room. He would awaken Halleck, obtain proof that this was not just an unusually vivid dream. Or worse, that —

  He halted in stunned surprise. He had been striding toward the door, his hand reaching for the knob. Now he stood in the dormitory hall — and the door was still closed. He had not opened it but had passed through it as if it were no more solid than fog.

  A sense of disaster weighted Dunn’s mind as he continued to Halleck’s room. He swung his knuckles tentatively against the door — saw his hand disappear to the wrist through the apparently solid panel. In despairing resignation he pressed forward. Nothing impeded him as he stepped into a dormitory room similar in size and furnishings to his own.

  Vince Halleck’s stocky form lay quietly in bed and as Dunn approached he discovered that Halleck was fully dressed. That was strange — but it was just one of several strange things Dunn had noticed about Halleck in the past week.

  Ordinarily Halleck was friendly, talkative, as efficient a worker as the efficient nuclear devices he helped to build. But lately he had taken to speaking little, even to avoiding his intimates at the laboratory. In his work he had lost his sure touch, become fumbling and uncertain.

  What was worse, Halleck had started drinking. Liquor was forbidden on the laboratory grounds. Men who worked on nuclear weapons needed a clear head and steady nerves. Yet Halleck evidently had been smuggling whiskey into the dormitory. Dunn had learned this just that evening when Halleck had invited him to his room for a drink.

  Dunn had accepted, hoping to draw Halleck out and learn what was responsible for the change in him. He hadn’t been very successful. Halleck merely had explained that he had grown tired of the laboratory routine. But it would pass, he had insisted. It was nothing serious.

  Dunn had had two drinks, but from there on things were hazy. He could not remember having gone to bed. He saw that he wore slacks and a sport shirt instead of pajamas and he recalled now that his double in bed had been similarly dressed.

  Bending over Halleck’s sleeping figure, Dunn reached out to shake the man’s shoulder. His hand met nothing solid. It was as though he grasped at a phantom, an illusion. As a last resort Dunn shouted into Halleck’s ear.

  “Vince! Vince! Wake up!”

  Under ordinary circumstances the sheer volume of his voice would have startled the heaviest sleeper into waking. But Halleck gave no slightest indication that he had heard.

  Dunn clenched his fists in sudden rage at his helplessness. Was there nothing he could do to gain attention? Was he doomed to remain unseen, unheard, unfelt — a nonentity inhabiting Halleck’s world yet excluded from it in some baffling way?

  A sudden flicker of motion drew his attention back to the bed. He stared as he saw what appeared to be a pale radiance rising from Halleck’s body. In another moment he realized in amazement that the radiance had the outlines of a human form — that it was, in fact, a body rising from the body on the bed.

  The glowing replica floated smoothly upward in a horizontal position. When some five feet above the figure in the bed it slowed, hung suspended for an instant and then began to teeter up and down along its length. Abruptly the floating shape descended feet first to the floor and stood motionless, turned partly away from Dunn.

  Dunn involuntarily had retreated from beside the bed almost as soon as the first strange manifestations took place. He had not yet had a direct look at the features of the entity which — strangely like a butterfly from a cocoon — had emerged from Halleck’s sleeping form. But recalling his own experience, Dunn took it for granted that the entity was Halleck.

  The figure turned as if deliberately to confront Dunn. It now appeared quite substantial — as substantial as Dunn felt himself to be — and like the figure in the bed it was fully dressed. But with a numbing shock Dunn saw that the emergent entity was not Halleck after all. The grimly smiling, saturnine face that swung toward him was that of a complete stranger!

  Madness piled upon madness, impossibility upon impossibility! Dunn no longer was certain that he was not experiencing a nightmare. What he had witnessed did not jibe with being fully conscious. It did not jibe with logic — even the logic of this eerie disembodied state. For though according to that logic it was possible for a person to have two forms—one material, the other immaterial—it was impossible that the immaterial form of one person could inhabit the material form of another.

  But it did explain certain things about Halleck — his withdrawal from his friends, his drinking, his strange clumsiness on the job. A stranger had been inhabiting Halleck’s earthly shell. That mystery was cleared up, but at the same time another was created — what had become of Halleck’s other self?

  The saturnine-faced man was studying Dunn from narrowed black eyes. The humor had faded from his expression, leaving it hard and alert.

  “I see that you are quite conscious — and that you comprehend certain things,” he said in a quiet voice which yet carried a distinct overtone of menace. His words had an oddly foreign flavor.

  “Who are you?” Dunn demanded. “What were you doing in Vince Halleck’s body—crazy as that may sound?”

  The man bowed slightly. “Permit me to introduce myself. I am Colonel Leon Borchov of the Pan-Slavic Union, secret agent, scientist, explorer—and student of the occult.”

  A cold wind seemed to touch Dunn. A colonel a secret agent—and this was Elm Center, one of the largest nuclear research laboratories in the country.

  All possible precautions were taken at Elm Center to prevent espionage or sabotage by agents of the Pan-Slavic Union—yet Borchov had penetrated every defense. Dunn’s insides knotted as he thought of what Borchov might have learned—of the opportunities he’d undoubtedly had to blow Elm Center sky high. Masquerading as Halleck, of course, nobody would suspect him.

  Dunn’s eyes sharpened on Borchov in chill awareness of the man’s potentialities for doing harm. What he saw was a lean, wiry man, slightly stooped, with dark bushy hair retreating from a domed forehead. His features had a distinctly Asiatic cast, the eyes slightly slanted, the cheekbones high and prominent. His appearance was somehow scholarly, intellectual, but his black eyes were unblinking and cold — a killer’s eyes — and his thin mouth had a cruel, implacable twist. He gave the impression of knowledge, of wisdom, but his face showed it was an evil knowledge, backed by a ruthless will.

  What Dunn glimpsed of Borchov’s character made him think of Vince Halleck with new anxiety. “Where is Halleck — the man whose body you seem to have been inhabiting? What have you done with him?”

  “He is, we might say, wandering,” Borchov returned smoothly. His smile was mocking. “Not dead, as you seem worried he might be, since that condition is incongruous here. I believe it would be most accurate to say that your friend is sleep-walking. As you should be also. Evidently my drugged highballs and hypnotic suggestions did not quite produce the desired results in your case.”

  “So that’s it!” Dunn exclaimed. “I thought the drinks might have had something to do with what happened to me.”

  Anger and horror struggled in Dunn. He controlled his emotions with an effort. Borchov seemed disposed to talk, to gloat. Dunn saw it as an opportunity to learn more about the man’s motives and plans. He masked his grim purpose behind an expression of awed bewilderment. He asked: />
  “Is that what you used on Vince Halleck—the drugs and hypnotic suggestions, I mean?”

  “Not directly,” Borchov said. “It is impossible most of the time for astrals to affect those on the physical plane, or even to communicate, except through what are known in the West as mediums. A physical accomplice planted at the laboratory long before prepared the way for me. I but developed the technique as the result of knowledge which I gained from certain adepts in Tibet and India. They have made a science of such matters as astral projection.”

  Dunn ran his fingers through his already rumpled hair, looking incredulous. “You mean you deliberately separated Halleck from his body so that you could take over—that such a thing is possible?”

  “Of course it’s possible!” Borchov snorted. “You have seen the proof of that. And it is possible simply because astral projection is a natural rather than an unnatural process. Everyone undergoes astral projection more or less frequently, though few are conscious actually of doing so. All I have done is to accelerate and control this natural process.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Dunn said. “What benefit is there in taking over another man’s body?”

  Borchov said coldly. “You certainly cannot be as stupid as you seem. At present your technically advanced but politically bumbling nation enjoys unquestioned leadership in the development and manufacture of nuclear weapons. This, frankly, has been a strong deterrent to certain military plans of the Pan-Asian Union.

  “The only solution was for the Pan-Asian Union to ferret out your scientific secrets and thus match your progress in atomic research. Using physical spies for this purpose has proved unsuccessful. Your government has learned to protect its secrets well.”

  Borchov’s black eyes glittered with sudden emotion. “The Pan-Asian Union might have been doomed to disintegration as a result of its inability to end the stalemate. Then I, Leon Borchov, found the answer! Through my knowledge of the occult, I showed how it was possible not only for the Pan-Asian Union to obtain the secrets it needed, but also to sabotage the entire atomic program of the United States.

  “The solution, of course, is to use astral rather than physical espionage agents. But in addition my plan is to obtain control of the bodies of technicians in certain key centers in all atomic laboratories. At the proper time these captive technicians will destroy reactors, render atomic weapons useless. My astral agents will spread out along the atomic network of the United States to nuclear weapons stockpiles in allied nations. We will penetrate directly into your government, cause strife and confusion.”

  Borchov’s voice rose exultantly. His sharp features were twisted in a Satanic smile. “And nobody will suspect. We will move unseen and unheard. Discarnate, we will glean every secret, every fact of organization and leadership. Incarnate, we will take physical action. We will constitute an astral fifth-column, the like of which the world has never known. We will be invincible. For while our enslaved physical shells can be destroyed, we ourselves are indestructible, free to seek out and take over other shells!”

  Dunn felt sick. What he had witnessed already told him that Borchov’s plan, however incredible it sounded, could very well succeed. And only he knew about it. Only he could do something to defeat it.

  A deadly calm settled over Borchov. Studying Dunn from lidded eyes, he said softly, “You are wondering why I have revealed all this to you. You are even casting about for some way to interfere with my plans. I have taken no risks with you, for in your ignorance of occult matters you are harmless. As an astral there is no way in which you can communicate with those on the physical plane, except through a certain few psychically developed and experienced persons. Any others would regard you as a mere ghost—and a mad one at that.”

  Borchov smiled thinly. “But you will be given no opportunity to communicate with anyone. For although in astral form it is impossible for you to be killed, it is possible nevertheless for you to be . . . psychically incapacitated. In some this amounts to amnesia, in others catalepsy or coma—even madness. In any case, I shall see that you are in no position to be dangerous to me.”

  Dread surged in Dunn. He was at a serious disadvantage here, only partly grasping principles and effects which Borchov understood out of a deep, evil wisdom. He did not know what force the man could use against him, but Borchov appeared grimly confident of his ability to carry out his threat to render Dunn helpless.

  That must not happen, Dunn told himself desperately. Somehow he had to fight back. Somehow he had to warn others of Borchov’s scheme. Everything depended on him—the freedom of millions, the very course of civilization. Only he could keep totalitarian barbarism from closing down over the nation he loved.

  The knowledge filled him with an electrifying urgency. He was suddenly, lividly aware of the room, of the furnishings in it, of the distance that separated him from Borchov. Was there something here the Pan-Asian agent had overlooked, something Dunn could use to gain the whiphand, even if momentarily?

  Abruptly Dunn remembered his physical counterpart in the next room. If he could don his earthly form as one dons an overcoat, he could spread an alarm—not the nightmarish tale of what had happened to him and what he had learned, but a logical story that logical men would accept.

  He could explain, for instance, that he had discovered Halleck was a spy. There were witnesses who could testify that Halleck had been acting strangely. The laboratory authorities would act instantly, for espionage was a thing they understood, a menace that hung constantly over their heads. Halleck would be locked up for investigation—and Borchov would lose his physical vehicle. Before he could obtain another Dunn would have everyone at the laboratory watching everyone else for some strange word or action. Hints of an espionage network would spread the alarm to other laboratories and Borchov would find himself completely blocked. Halleck, of course, could be cleared later without much difficulty.

  These thoughts shot through Dunn’s mind as he tensed himself for a dash that would carry him to his physical body in the next room. But before he could move a development took place that rooted him to the floor in surprise.

  Two men stepped through the closed door. One of them was a complete stranger to Dunn, but he recognized the other as a machinist named Tony Radek. The way the newcomers had passed through the solid door made it evident that they were astrals.

  Borchov nodded at Radek. “You have done well,” he said. He turned his attention to the other man. “I trust that you made the trip here from the embassy without complications, Shevkin.”

  The man nodded. “It is because you have prepared me well, Colonel Borchov. I am ready for the next step in the plan.”

  “Good.” Borchov said. “We will take that step in just a moment.”

  He glanced at Dunn. “No doubt you and Radek are acquainted. It was he who made it possible for me to take over the physical form of your friend Halleck. He is one of a group of agents who have been carefully trained for this task. As for Shevkin, he is a nuclear expert who will now take over Halleck’s body.”

  Borchov paused, his lidded black eyes surveying Dunn in sudden mockery. “That means I must move to another physical habitation, of course. It will interest you, my young friend, to know that I have chosen—yours.”

  Dismay and then fury swept Dunn. The thought of Borchov clothing himself in his own flesh was hateful. He fought back an impulse to throw himself at the man, realizing that it was more urgent now than ever that he reach his body in the next room. He used the surge of violent energy to send himself leaping toward the wall that separated him from his goal.

  Dunn heard startled shouts in his rear. The wall loomed before him and then was gone as he passed through it without hindrance.

  His physical counterpart lay with closed eyes in the bed as he had left it. Hurrying up, he wondered suddenly how he would be able to enter.

  That problem unexpectedly was solved for him. As he approached to within several feet of the figure he once more felt the powerful tu
gging at the back of his head. At the same time what seemed to be a magnetic force gripped him and lifted him off his feet. Again he was aware that he was rigid and floating.

  He was guided directly over the motionless form in the bed, lowered down toward it—and suddenly dropped. Astral and physical merged into one—and in the instant of merging Dunn found himself in hell.

  It was as if he had been dropped into the body of a man who first had been driven violently mad and who now was being burned alive. A maelstrom of pain caught him and whirled him crazily through an endless abyss of nerve-shattering horror. Demons shrieked obscenity at him with the voices of thunder. He was swept by holocausts of agony, engulfed by vast tidal waves of unthinkable fear.

  He screamed for escape, for release—and despaired that it would ever come. But as suddenly as if he had stepped from darkness into light the torment ceased, the fright vanished. He realized dazedly that he was rising into the air, gyrating as he did so to the accompaniment of a strong tugging at the back of his head.

  And then, sick, weak, unutterably shaken emotionally, he found himself on his feet, swaying, some distance from the bed. The motionless figure in it gave no hint of the inferno locked within its flesh.

  Dunn heard a shout of laughter. He turned to see Borchov watching him in derisive amusement from across the room. Behind the Pan-Asian agent were Radek and Shevkin.

  Borchov laughed again. “I can see that you had quite a surprise, my heroic young friend. What you experienced was the special state of hypnosis in which I placed your physical body. I set up conditions, you see, that made it prudent for your astral self to vacate the premises—conditions also that would prevent you from resuming occupancy.”

  Borchov’s sharp features hardened. “You have given me considerable difficulty—a fact which I do not quite understand. But I shall now see to it that you are rendered unable to interfere further with my plans. Certain forces on the astral plane are available to those who know how to use them.”

  Abruptly Borchov extended his arms stiffly toward Dunn. A faint radiance flashed from the tips of his rigid fingers. Something like a physical blow struck Dunn and sent him staggering back. He was fighting to keep his balance, dazed, when the force struck him again. It had the impact of a club and yet it was a psychic thing that battered at the very foundations of his mind.