by Isaac Asimov
Finally, he put out his arm, and when his fingers were still six inches away from the ultrawave, Lucky knew that his endurance was at an end. Try as he might, he could drive his exhausted body no closer. It was all over. It was ended.
The Hilda was a scene of paralysis. Evans lay unconscious on his cot; Bigman was crumpled on the floor; and though Lucky remained stubbornly upright, his trembling fingertips were the only sign of life in him.
The cold voice in Lucky's mind sounded once again in its even, inexorable monotone: "You are helpless, but you will not lose consciousness as did your companions. You will suffer this pain until you decide to submerge your ship, tell us what we wish to know, and end your life. We can wait patiently. There is no way you can resist us. There is no way you can fight us. No bribe! No threat!"
Lucky, through the endless torture, felt a striving within his sluggish, pain-soaked mind, the stirring of something new.
No bribe? No threat?
No bribe?
Even through the misty semiconsciousness, the spark in his mind caught fire.
He abandoned the radio, turned his thoughts away, and instantly the curtain of pain lifted a fraction. Lucky took a faltering step away from the radio, and it lifted a bit more. He turned away completely.
Lucky tried not to think. He tried to act automatically and without foreplanning. They were concentrating on preventing his reaching the radio. They must not realize the other danger they faced. The pitiless enemy must not deduce his intentions and try to stop him. He would have to act quickly. They must not stop him.
They must not!
He had reached the first-aid wall chest and flung open its door. He could not see clearly, and he lost precious seconds in fumbling.
The voice said, "What is your decision?" and the fierceness of pain began to clamp down upon the young councilman once more.
Lucky had it-a squat jar of bluish silicone. His fingers groped through what seemed deadening cotton for the little catch that would shut off the paramagnetic microfield that held the jar's lid closed and airtight.
He scarcely felt the little nudge as one fingernail caught the catch. He scarcely saw the lid move to one side and fall off. He scarcely heard it hit the floor with the sound of metastic against metal. Fuzzily, he could see that the jar was open, and hazily, he lifted bis arm toward the trash ejector.
The pain had returned in all its fury.
His left arm had lifted the hinged opening of the ejector; his right arm tremblingly raised the precious jar to the six-inch opening.
His arm moved for an eternity. He could no longer see. A red haze covered everything.
He felt his arm and the jar it held strike the wall. He pushed, but it would move no farther. The fingers on his left hand inched down from where they held the opening of the trash ejector, and touched the jar.
He daren't drop it now. If he did, he would never in his life find the strength to pick it up again.
He had it in both hands, and together both hands pulled at it. It inched upward, while Lucky hovered closer and closer to the edge of unconsciousness.
A nd then the jar was gone!
A million miles away, it seemed, he could hear the whistle of compressed air, and he knew the jar had been ejected into the warm Venusian ocean.
For a moment the pain wavered and then, in one giant stroke, lifted completely.
Lucky righted himself carefully and stepped away from the wall. His face and body were drenched in perspiration, and his mind still reeled.
As fast as his still faltering steps could take him, he moved to the radio transmitter, and this time nothing stopped him.
Evans sat in a chair with his head buried in his arms. He had gulped thirstily at water and kept saying over and over again, "I don't remember a thing. I don't remember a thing."
Bigman, bare to the waist, was mopping at his head and chest with a damp cloth, and a shaky grin carne to his face. "I do. I remember everything. One minute I was standing there listening to you talking to the voice, Lucky, and then with no warning I was flat on the floor. I couldn't feel a thing, I couldn't turn my head, I couldn't even blink my eyes, but I could hear everything that was going on. I could hear the voice and what you said, Lucky. I saw you start for the radio…"
He puffed his breath out and shook his head.
"I never made it that first time, you know," said Lucky quietly.
"I couldn't tell. You passed out of my field of vision, and after that all I could do was lie there and wait to hear you start sending. Nothing happened, and I kept thinking they must have you, too. In my mind, I could see all three of us lying in living death. It was all over, and I couldn't nudge a thumbnail. It was all I could do just to breathe. Then you moved back past my eyes again, and I wanted to laugh and cry and yell all at tht same time, but all I could do was lie there. I could just about make you out, Lucky, clawing at the wall. I couldn't tell what on Venus you were doing, but a few minutes later it was all over. Wow!"
Evans said wearily, "And we're really heading back for Aphrodite now, Lucky? No mistake?"
"We're heading back unless the instruments are lying, and I don't think they are," said Lucky. "When we do get back and we can spare the time, we'll all of us get a little medical attention."
"Sleep!" insisted Bigman. "That's all I want. Just two days of solid sleep."
"You'll get that, too," said Lucky.
But Evans, more than the other two, was haunted by the experience. It showed quite plainly in the way he huddled in his own arms and slouched, almost cowered, in his chair. He said, "Aren't they interfering with us in any way at all any more?" There was the lightest emphasis on the word they.
"I can't guarantee that," said Lucky, "but the worst of the affair is over in a way. I reached the space station."
"You're sure? There's no mistake?"
"None at all. They even relayed me to Earth and I spoke to Conway directly. That part is settled."
"Then it's all settled," crowed Bigman joyously. "Earth is prepared. It knows the truth about the V-frogs."
Lucky smiled, but offered no comment.
Bigman said, "Just one thing, Lucky. Tell me what happened. How did you break their hold? Sands of Mars! What did you do?"
Lucky said, "Nothing that I ought not to have thought of long hi advance and saved us all a great deal of needless trouble. The voice told us that all they needed in life was to live and to think. You recall that, Bigman? It said later on that we had no way of threatening them and no way of bribing them? It was only at the last moment that I realized you and I knew better."
"I know better?" said Bigman blankly.
"Certainly you do. You found out two minutes after you saw your first V-frog, that life and thought is not all they need. I told you on the way to the surface that Venusian plants stored oxygen so that Venusian animals got their oxygen from their food and didn't have to breathe. In fact, I said, they probably get too much oxygen and that's why they're so fond of low-oxygen food like hydrocarbons. Like axle grease, for instance. Don't you remember?"
Bigman's eyes were widening. "Sure."
"Just think how they must crave hydrocarbon. It must be like the craving of a child for candy."
Bigman said once again, "Sure."
"Now the V-frogs had us under mental control, but to maintain us under such control, they had to concentrate. What I had to do was distract them, at least to distract those that were nearest the ship, and whose power over us was strongest. So I threw out the obvious thing."
"But what? Don't play cute, Lucky."
"I threw out an open jar of petroleum jelly, which I got out of the medicine cabinet. It's pure hydrocarbon, of much higher grade than the axle grease. They couldn't resist. Even with so much at stake, they couldn't resist. Those nearest to the jar dived for it. Others farther away were in mental rapport, and their minds turned instantly to hydrocarbon. They lost control of us, and I was able to put through the call. That was all."
"Well,
then," said Evans, "we're through with them."
"If it comes to that," said Lucky, "I'm not at all certain. There are a few things…"
He turned away, frowning, his lips clamped shut, as though he had already spoken too much.
The dome glimmered gorgeously outside the port, and Bigman felt his heart lift at the sight. He had eaten, even napped a bit, and his ebullient spirits bubbled as ever now. Lou Evans had recovered considerably from his own despondency. Only Lucky had not lost his look of wariness.
Bigman said, "I tell you the V-frogs are demoralized, Lucky. Look here, we've come back through a hundred miles of ocean, nearly, and they haven't touched us once. Well, have they?"
Lucky said, "Right now, I'm wondering why we don't get an answer from the dome."
Evans frowned in his turn. "They shouldn't take this long."
Bigman looked from one to the other. "You don't think anything can be wrong inside the city, do you?"
Lucky waved his hand for silence. A voice came in over the receiver, low and rapid.
"Identification, please."
Lucky said, "This is the Council-chartered subship Hilda, out of Aphrodite, returning to Aphrodite. David Starr in charge and speaking."
"You will have to wait."
"For what reason, please?"
"The locks are all in operation in the moment."
Evans frowned and muttered, "That's impossible, Lucky."
Lucky said, "When will one be free? Give me its location, and direct me to its vicinity by ultrasignal."
"You will have to wait."
The connection remained open, but the man at the other end spoke no more.
Bigman said indignantly, "Get Councilman Morriss, Lucky. That'll get some action."
Evans said hesitantly, "Morriss thinks I'm a traitor. Do you suppose he could have decided that you've thrown in with me, Lucky?"
"If so," said Lucky, "he'd be anxious to get us into the city. No, it's my thought that the man we've been speaking to is under mental control."
Evans said, "To stop us from getting in? Are you serious?"
"I'm serious."
"There's no way they can stop us from getting hi in
the long run unless they…" Evans paled and moved
to the porthole in two rapid strides. "Lucky, you're right! They're bringing a cannon blaster to bear! They're going to blow us out of the water!"
Bigman was at the porthole, too. There was no mistake about it. A section of the dome had moved to one side, and through it, somewhat unreal as seen through water, was a squat tube.
Bigman watched the muzzle lower and center upon, them, with fascinated horror. The Hilda was unarmed. It could never gain velocity fast enough to escape being blasted. There seemed no way out of instant death.
15. The Enemy?
But even as Bigman felt his stomach constrict at the prospect of imminent destruction, he could hear Lucky's even voice speaking forcefully into the transmitter:
"Subship Hilda arriving with cargo of petroleum… Subship Hilda arriving with cargo of petroleum… Subship Hilda arriving with cargo of petroleum… Subship Hilda…"
An agitated voice broke through from the other end. "Clement Heber at lock control at this end. What is wrong? Repeat. What is wrong? Clement Heber…"
Bigman yelled, "They're withdrawing the blaster, Lucky."
Lucky let out his breath in a puff, but only in that way did he show any sign of tension. He said into the transmitter, "Subship Hilda reporting for entrance to Aphrodite. Please assign lock. Repeat. Please assign lock."
"You may have lock number fifteen. Follow directional signal. There seems to be some confusion here."
Lucky rose and said to Evans, "Lou, take the controls and get the ship into the city as fast as you can." He motioned Bigman to follow him to the other room.
"What-what…" Bigman spluttered like a leaky
popgun.
Lucky sighed and said, "I thought the V-frogs would try to arrange to have us kept out, so I was all set with the petroleum trick. But I didn't think things would get so bad they would point a cannon at us. That made it really tough. I wasn't as sure as all that that the petroleum notion would work."
"But how did it?"
"Hydrocarbon again. Petroleum is hydrocarbon. My word came over the open radio and the V-frogs who had the dome guards under control were distracted."
"How come they knew what petroleum was?"
"I pictured it in my mind, Bigman, with every bit of imagination I had. They can read minds when you sharpen the mental pictures by speaking, you know.
"But never mind all that." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If they're ready to blow us out of the ocean, if they're ready for something as crudely violent as that, they're desperate; and we're desperate, too. We've got to bring this to an end right away, and we've got to do the right thing. One mistake at this stage could be fatal."'
From his shirt pocket Lucky had undipped a scriber, and he was writing rapidly on a piece of foil.
He held it out to Bigman. "That's what you're to do when I give the word."
Bigman's eyes widened, "But Lucky…"
"Sh! Don't refer to any of this in words."
Bigman nodded, "But are you sure you're right?"
"I hope so." Lucky's handsome face was drawn with anxiety. "Earth knows about the V-frogs now, so they'll never win over humanity; but they may still do damage here on Venus. We've got to prevent that somehow. Now do you understand what you're to do?"
"Yes."
"In that case…" Lucky rolled the foil together and kneaded it with his strong fingers. The pellet that remained he returned to his shirt pocket.
Lou Evans called out, "We're in the lock, Lucky. In five minutes we'll be in the city."
Lucky said, "Good. Get Morriss on the radio."
They were in Council headquarters in Aphrodite again, the same room, Bigman thought, in which he had first met Lou Evans; the same room in which he had first seen a V-frog. He shuddered at the thought of those mental tendrils infiltrating his mind for the first time without his knowledge.
That was the one way in which the room was different now. The aquarium was gone; the dishes of peas and of axle grease were gone; the tall tables stood bare at the false window.
Morriss had pointed that out mutely as soon as they entered. His plump cheeks sagged and the lines of strain about his eyes were marked. His pudgy handshake was uncertain.
Carefully Bigman put what he was carrying on top of one of the tables. "Petroleum jelly," he said.
Lou Evans sat down. So did Lucky.
Morriss did not. He said, "I got rid of the V-frogs in this building. That was all I could do. I can't ask people to do away with their pets without a reason. And I couldn't give the reason, obviously."
"It will be enough," said Lucky. "Throughout this discussion, though, I want you to keep your eyes on the hydrocarbon. Keep its existence firmly in your mind."
"You think that will help?" asked Morriss.
"I think it will."
Morriss stopped his pacing immediately before Lucky. His voice was a sudden bluster. "Starr, I can't believe this. The V-frogs have been in the city for years. They've been here almost since the city was built."
"You've got to remember…" began Lucky.
"That I'm under their influence?" Morriss reddened. "That isn't so. I deny it."
''There's nothing to be ashamed of, Dr. Morriss," said Lucky, crisply. "Evans was under their control for days, and Bigman and I have been controlled, too. It is possible to be honestly unaware that your mind has been continuously picked."
"There's no proof of it, but never mind," said Morriss violently. "Suppose you're right. The question is, what can we do? How do we fight them? Sending men against them will be useless. If we bring in a fleet to bombard Venus from space, they may force the dome locks open and drown every city on Venus in revenge. We could never kill every V-frog on Venus anyway. There are eight hundred million cubic miles o
f ocean for them to hide in, and they can multiply fast if they want to. Now your getting word to Earth was essential, I admit, but it still leaves us with many important problems."
"You're right," admitted Lucky, "but the point is, I didn't tell Earth everything. I couldn't until I was certain I knew the truth. I…"
The intercom signal flashed, and Morriss barked. "What is it?"
"Lyman Turner for his appointment, sir," was the answer.
"One second." The Venusian turned to Lucky and said in a low voice, "Are you sure we want him?"
"You had this appointment about strengthening the transite partitions within the city, didn't you?"
"Yes, but…"
"And Turner is a victim. The evidence would seem to be clear there. He is the one highly-placed official beside ourselves who would definitely seem to be one. We would want to see him, I think."
Morriss said into the intercom, "Send him up."
Turner's gaunt face and hooked nose made up a mask of inquiry as he entered. The silence in the room and the way the others stared at him would have filled even a far less sensitive man with foreboding.
He swung his computer case to the floor and said, "Is anything wrong, gentlemen?"
Slowly, carefully, Lucky gave him the bare outline of the matter.
Turner's thin lips parted. He said, weakly, "You mean, my mind…-"
"How else would the man at the lock have known the exact manner in which to keep out intruders? He was unskilled and untrained, yet he barricaded himself in with electronic perfection."
"I never thought of that. I never thought of that." Turner's voice was almost an incoherent mumble. How could I have missed it?"
"They wanted you to miss it," said Lucky.
"It makes me ashamed."
"You have company in that, Turner. Myself, Dr. Morriss, Councilman Evans…"
"Then what do we do about it?"
Lucky said, "Exactly what Dr. Morriss was asking when you arrived.' It will need all our thought. One of the reasons I suggested you be brought into this gathering is that we may require your computer."
"Oceans of Venus, I hope so," said Turner fervently.
"If I could do something to make up for…" And he