John Rackhan

by Ipomoea

  Sam caught at the ragged edge of his near-panic and fought his way back to a semblance of calm, helped a little by the sudden remembrance that he was not alone in his troubles. Louise and Dr. Venner were here in this deadly place somewhere. And there was Joe, outside and alarmed, although what he could do was somewhat doubtful. All the same, Sam realized, it was still his best ploy to keep this madman talking, keep him occupied. He saw Corinne swing away and go pacing back to her father's feet, there to drape herself on the steps in a feline sprawl.

  "Your new world," he sneered. "Your people? They're nothing but mmd-rinsed slaves. Zombies who obey your commands. And you're going to make me into one of those? I'd sooner be dead!"

  Eklund smiled, the patiently tolerant smile of the superior, and that, somehow, was even more horrifying than anything that had gone before.

  "You don't understand. My people are not slaves. I have slaves, as many as I need. But my people, the. people of my new world, they are not slaves, nor are they brainwashed. That is not my method. As I told you, some minds are stiff, inflexible, they break before they bend. But that is when I use impersonal force. That is what the little fire-stones are for, to focus an impersonal command. But now that you are here with me I can use more refined methods; I can melt and mold your personality so that you will want to be one of my people, so that you will see how stupid you are now, and how wonderful your life and future can be. Let me give you a demonstration. I think it will convince you."

  He touched one of the buttons set into his chair arm and turned his head. Sam strained, but could only roll his eyes, until Eklund noticed, smiled again, and the petrifying clutch vanished suddenly, so unexpectedly that Sam staggered and almost fell with the release.

  "You see Low easy it is for me to free you? Be warned. It will be just as easy to lock you again—or knot you into blinding agony—if you try to do anything foolish."

  Sam took the hint, and stood still to watch as, from a distant archway, there came pacing the herculean form of a man-thing. Man-shaped and thewed like Hercules, yet it was just as sexless as had been the slave of the bathroom. It paced obediently near, and stood. Eklund pointed.

  "Bring the captives here."

  It turned and went away. Eklund smiled again. "That is a slave, Hutten. Not, as my daughter told you, a robot, but a creature of flesh and blood and bones, as human as you or I in makeup, in every way except brainpower and self-determination. My creation, Hutten. I grow them, using the secrets I have learned from the store of alien wisdom. I shall not lack for slaves, believe me. But these two"—he indicated his daughter and Max Brandt with a careless gesture—"are not slaves. Call them disciples. They serve me, and my plan and purpose. Just as you will do in your turn, and these two who come now."

  Sam saw them and felt sick. It was obvious that Venner had put up a valiant struggle against someone, and quite recently. The angry bruise across his cheekbone was turning black and one eye was puffed almost shut. His gray hair stood in spikes, his shirt was in tatters, and one leg of his pants was flapping in a tear. But his head was up, and his one good eye was hard and defiant. By his side, Louise showed equal signs of wear. Her hair was hedge-wild and there were black finger-bruises on both her arms. She must have done some kicking at some time, for her feet were bare and there was only a shred or two left of what he remembered as snug-fitting blue pants. The long legs thus revealed were grubby and also carried their quota of bruises. Sam stared, and his sickness gave way to mingled shame and admiration. Admiration for the unquenchable defiance that infused both of them, and shame at the craven part he himself had played so far.

  A fine silvery chain linked them ankle to ankle, and their brawny escort, pacing behind them, jangled keys. Sam got a nod from Venner, and a quick grin from Louise, then Eklund ordered, "That is far enough. Stand where you are." To the moronic jailer he said, "Release them. Remove the chain." As they stood and stared him out he went on patiently and with care:

  "As I have warned Hutten, so I warn you. Do not provoke me by trying anything heroic, or stupid. I have the power to hold you, crush you, strike you dead If I so will."

  Vernier didn't seem impressed. He took time to glance around the vast chamber and to stare curiously at some of the enigmatic devices. Then, "Just what are you, Eklund, some kind of alien creature masquerading as human? This stuff never came out of any human workshop."

  "You are reasonably astute, Dr. Venner. You would naturally appreciate the alien quality of this equipment. Quite rightly. But I am human. The intelligences responsible for this are long gone by several hundreds of thousands of years. It is all mine now, mine to use. With it to help me I intend to produce the new race, the successors to Man. Homo novus! I cannot allow you to interfere with that grand design. So it is my intention to alter you, to mold your personality so it will be for me instead of against me."

  "You're going to make me into a superman?" Venner's old voice fairly crackled with sarcastic overtones, but Eklund put on his superior smile.

  "Not you, Dr. Venner. You will merely assist. You are too old to be remodeled, too old to take advantage of mental therapy. Hutten, now, is promising material. And you, Miss Martinez, also. Once you know how to live, once the blemishes and flaws have been smoothed out of your mind, you will become as radiant as my daughter, and it will be your honor, with her and others, to bring forth the new people, the perfect people."

  "Me, like her? Like that—" Louise used a coarse and improper noun with gusto. "I'd rather die first!"

  "That can happen." Eklund lowered his voice ominously. "As I have just warned Hutten, and all those others who have been through the process, resistance can be fatal. If your mind is so stiff that you cannot be made to see reason, then you will die and the honor of bringing forth the new race will fall to others. There will be many...."

  "Aren't you taking rather a lot for granted?" Sam spoke up, taking heart from Louise's courage. "You can't possibly know that these methods you have dug up will in fact work on us."

  "They have been tried and tested, Hutten. You shall see my herds, sometime. No one has ever seen such cattle. And, as I told you, I have applied this learning to myself and my daughter. Can you doubt your own eyes? And my slaves, are they not perfection?"

  The challenge hung in the air a moment. He moved a hand now to a chair arm control, and Venner edged forward.

  "Do not tempt me!" Eklund warned instantly.

  "Wasn't going to. If you're going to take out my mind and bend it into a pretty pattern there doesn't seem to be anything I can do to stop you. But, well, maybe you'd gratify an old man's curiosity, and tell me something?"

  Eklund looked undecided. Sam held his breath. The old man was playing for time. Would Eklund fall for it? And, if he did, what was the best way to use the breathing space? He conceived a harebrained and outrageous plan, simply because there was nothing else he could do. Delicately, keeping his eye on Eklund, he eased his hand around and into the robe he had been given, to probe at the weapon-belt he still wore.

  "You wouldn't want me to go to my death frustrated for the answer to a simple problem, would you?" Venner nagged.

  "I am not going to kill you. I thought I had made that clear. Any distress you may suffer will be entirely of your own making, by the resistance you offer. But what is this request you have? Ask it. If it is within my power you shall have it. I am magnanimous."

  "That's nice to know. All right, it's just this. How and where does Ipomoea tie in with this super-race plan of yours?"

  "Ipomoea?'

  "The blue flowers. What we would call Morning Glory. They grow here. The seeds are used as a drug-source!"

  "Indeed! I presume you are using some botanical name. You are an astute man, Dr. Venner. And I did not know that the sacred flower had an Earthly counterpart. Thank you for that."

  "Then it is tied in. You are shipping the stuff to Earth as a drug. But how? And, if I may confess to not being all that smart, why?"

  Sam struggled with the s
lipperty plastic of the belt, seeking the pouch that held the dart-thrower, trying to recall how to free it, and all the while striving to appear motionless and interested only in what was being said. Eklund nodded now.

  "It Is, of course, natural that you would classify it as a drug. The active principle, extracted from the seed-head, has remarkable properties in modifying the personality. It works very quickly to delete all care and anxiety. I use it as a feed supplement for my herds, and the change in their behavior is remarkable. And in their health."

  "But what about the Happy Sugar?"

  Brandt spoke up, surprisingly after such a long silence. "The drug, as you call it, is in the plastic wrapper, not the sugar. And the drug packets are carried by people who are already converted. They know what to do. They choose a likely person, drop the whole packet in his drink, and wait. The action is very fast, and the person is ready to be won to the cause in less than a minute. He or she is commanded to take more of the drug and find others, tell no one until after the dosage has been given, and then await the coming of the master, when all will be well."

  "The coming of the master?"

  "Myself," Eklund declared simply. They are all mine. When I give the word, they will rise, even those who have slipped away into stillness."

  "You can't control them from here?"

  "I can. Another effect of the drug is to make the person delicately sensitive to orders through the fire-stone linkages —and there are many of those, my key-points, already on Earth. And know this, Dr. Venner. It is a common error to compare thought-power with electronics, simply because it is possible to amplify it that way. But thought is fast, much faster than light. When I command my followers to rise up, they will rise."

  Sam's fingers found the trick, got the pouch open, and took hold of the dart-thrower. Now he had to ease it around, under cover of his cloak, until he could take aim. Venner looked stunned.

  "Those addicts are immortal, immune to disease, just waiting ... !"

  "Exactly!" Eklund declared, and at that moment the ground beneath their feet jumped and shuddered, and a split second later the air in the cavern twitched to the distant blast of an immense explosion.

  XIV

  Simply because the weapon was there in his hand and ready, Sam was the first to react, while the others were momentarily frozen by the shock. Dragging the dart-thrower out into the open, he cocked it, crouched a little, took careful aim on Eklund—and Corinne saw him. She sprang up.

  "Father!" she screamed. "Father, watch out!"

  It was too late to call back the little dart. Sam saw it pluck a tiny fold in the frothy stuff over her breast, saw her jerk and stare down in disbelief—and then she crumpled and fell down the steps into a limp sprawl at the foot. Then Eklund had swung around, finger pointing, his eyes like twin swords of blue ice. Sam felt as if two huge fists had slammed him on either side of his head simultaneously. The scene went away in a fog of pain, and he began to fall, screaming soundlessly at the knotting agony in his skull—when once again the solid ground leaped and shook, and again a blasting rumble came to jar the cavern's air. The pain dropped away from Sam as Eklund turned to stare, to bore with outraged eyes into a dim distance. The indignant astonishment on his face would have been laughable at any other time, but Sam had no stomach for mirth. He was still shaking from the brain-mauling he had endured. He heard the would-be world master muttering.

  "There cannot be anyone there. My detectors would have warned me about it. What—" As if to mock him more, there came another shattering concussion, closer now, and savage enough to ache the ears. Sam made an unsteady step, shaking his head and knowing, frantically, that he was wasting precious time. He moved again, remembered the weapon in his hand, went down on one knee and ordered his hand and arm not to shake as he took careful aim again. Just as he was squeezing the release, Eklund moved, stepped back to drop into his seat and slap the chair arms angrily. Again the dart was gone beyond recall, and this time Brandt stiffened, held still for a moment, and then crumpled down the steps. But now, in response to Eklund's switching, all the monstrous machinery was stirring into purring life. The entire cavern started to shiver with crackling energies, none the less potent by being invisible.

  "Whoever and whatever you are," Eklund bugled, "I command you to come here! Come!"

  Sam squandered a moment to turn and squint into the distance, then twitched as he heard a frantic whisper calling him.

  "Hutten! Over here! Come on, quick!"

  He whirled around, searching, saw Vernier's anxious face peering around the plinth of one of the machines, and went at a staggering run to take what cover there was.

  "Gimme the belt, son," the old man muttered. "They took ours."

  Sam fumbled at it, let it fall. "That must be Joe," he whispered.

  "You don't have to tell me. He's been tuned in on me for the past half-hour. He's providing a distraction. Let's not waste it." His deft old fingers sprang loose the cache of det-onite strings. "Joe tell you how to use this stuff? Did? Fine, you take one. Louise, one for you."

  "What's the drill, Chief?" She was on her knees, but looked ready and willing enough for anything.

  "Best thing we can do is knock some hell out of these machines. Do it this way. Pick one to run to, for cover, right? You, Hutten, over there to the left, that concrete-mixer thing. Louise, that one over there, looks like shelving. I'll take this one to the rear. When I say, we all scatter. I'll leave one of my pills here to take care of this one. Repeat that. You choose the next one, drop the pill and run for it, right?"

  "We don't know what these gadgets are for," Sam objected. "No, but we do know Eklund is getting his power from them—some of them anyway."

  "Chief, why don't I just lob one over by his throne?" "Only if we have to. We want him alive if possible. He knows all about this junk, and that's valuable. Ready now?"

  Louise stood to peer over an edge, and stiffened. "Oh, oh!" she hissed. "Come and see, Chief."

  Sam stood also, and stared. Far away over there, out of the green glow, came Joe, head up and marching steadily. All at once he stopped, spun around like a dancer, made, a throwing motion, came all the way around to the front again and marched on, cringing slightly at the slam-bam explosion that came from back there. Eklund's fury was apparent in his scream.

  "Stop that! Stop it! Stand there!"

  Sam winced as that imperative arm and finger stretched out; he could feel the air sizzle with unleashed violence. But Joe kept straight on, striding steadily.

  "How can you defy me? What manner of man are you?" Eklund was shrieking crazily now. All at once he aimed at his slave, and snarled. "Get him! Seize him! Bring him to me!"

  The herculean man-thing turned stolidly and went to meet Joe, huge ham-hands reaching out ready to grasp. Joe hesitated, came forward, veered suddenly on one foot and darted in on a slant course. He ducked and slid in under the mighty arm that grabbed for him, spun around and used all his weight and spin to add emphasis to a roundhouse palm-chop across the slave's neck. Sam heard the whump of it clearly over the booming machinery, saw the massive creature nosedive and sprawl. Joe waited, moved around, readied himself as the thing stirred and began to clamber back up. Choosing the moment, he clasped his hands, raised them, and struck down like a blacksmith pounding metal. The slave-thing went down flat, hard enough to bounce a little, and lay still.

  "That's my boy!" Venner muttered. Sam was transfixed. He should have been in action. They all should. But there was something riveting about the implacable way Joe turned and came on, and frightening in the way Eklund rose, shaking with mania, his face shiny with sweat.

  "Stand!" he screamed. "You must obey mel You must!"

  Now the machinery howled and the rock underfoot shuddered as Eklund summoned up everything he could call on. Joe slowed, leaning as if he was breasting his way through treacle, but he came on. Now Eklund began to crack. Sam could see the gray froth on his lips, saw him trembling with insane fury. He sank back into his c
hair, dabbing at his switches with wild fingers, and a corona-like discharge grew around the strange power-helmet on his head. Now he raised his arm again, and it shook as he leveled his finger at Joe.

  "Die!" he choked. "Die, damn you! Die!"

  From the corner of his eye Sam saw the sprawled figures of Brandt and Corinne convulse and half-rise from the floor at that fearful command—then they fell back and were still. Joe stood fast, gave a slight shake of his head as if dislodging an itch, and the malevolent glow around Eklund's head coalesced, all at once, into a searing flare. The would-be master wrenched up out of his chair in a spasm of agony, screamed —and fell bonelessly down the stone steps of what was to have been his throne.

  As he fell the nerve-twisting howling of the machines began to fade and dwindle, wailing down the octaves into shuddering silence. Sam shivered, tried to stop it, and shivered more. His antis ached, one where he had been clutching the machine he was using as cover, the other because his fingers were still clamped on the dart-thrower in a death grip. He heard Venner let out a long and shaky breath, saw him go forward.

  "You all right, Joe?" he demanded shakily. "My God, did you know what you were up against, there?"

  "I knew a bit about it, yes, sir. And I'm all right. A bit weary. Some of that power came through, was a drag."

  "Is that all?" Sam came to catch his arm. "A drag?"

  "There are several chambers back there." Joe pointed generally over his shoulder. "One of them is full of charts and diagrams. I took a little time to look them over. I could hear what was going on, of course. The symbols are strange, but a circuit diagram is a circuit diagram, in any language. In a way, all these machines are personality-boosters, tuned to different patterns and rhythms. Most of those back there are for animal life forms. These in this chamber are for humans."