The Brain-Stealers

9

The thoughts which raced through the bright sunshine were shaken and raging and terrified. A completely unparalleled thing had happened. One of those who sent thoughts flickering about the hills had been killed. Forcibly, violently, horribly killed. Such a thing had not happened before in a thousand years! Panic filled the thoughts of the survivors. Each one had shared the screaming terror of their fellow as he realized that none of his subject animals—on this planet called men—would come to carry him to safety even at the cost of their own lives. Each one had felt the unprecedented hysteria of helplessness as their comrade shrieked his terror. Each had partaken of his crazy indecision as he looked down into the room which was a sea of flames below him. And each had felt what he felt when he tried, squealing, to climb down that ladder on quite insufficient limbs, to fall instead and bounce sickeningly, and know pain such as every member of their race had been protected from for millenia. And when the flames licked him, and when his hide shriveled and scorched, and when incandescent embers fell upon him, why—such a thing had never happened before! The Things in other soft warm nests, here and there in the mountains, felt their own hairless hides turn crisp and shrivel, and knew all the torment that Thing had known. They could shut out each other's ordinary thoughts, but not the silent pain-mad shrieks of the dying creature.

So that now it was over, the thoughts that raced through the bright sunshine were raging and terrified. The Things had experienced torture. They had experienced defiance. They had suffered agony and known defeat. Some seemed frightened into incoherence. Some seemed temporarily mad. And all had lost the zestful complacency and the placid absorption in their gluttony which had been the portion of their race for ages. Some even clamored for a return to their former home in the craft which had brought them here.

But that was plainly impossible. There were very, very, very many more than had landed. All could not crowd into the craft which had brought the original colonizers. And of course if men were included in the complement, to work the machines and feed the crew—why—not a fraction of their number could depart. So all fought venomously against any plan for safety from which they as individuals might be excluded.

There were ragings and accusations and counter-accusations. A man—a domestic animal—had been able to defy transmitted thought A man—a source of food—had brought about the death of one of their number. He was still at large. He was still unsubdued. When a dozen of them concentrated their thoughts upon him, each had felt full assurance that their thoughts were absorbed in his brain. They had been absorbed! But without effect....

There came an icy, cold thought in the sunshine. Perhaps it was not a man who defied them, but a member of another non-human race, from another world still, who roved this planet and was immune to the power of their race. If that were so, he must be destroyed. The life of every one of them depended on it. But they must no longer attempt to overwhelm him with pure thought. Men must be used. They must smother him under their numbers. The lives of men did not matter. Every human under their control must search for this creature. If he could be captured by men, that must be done. And he must be handled very cautiously. He could be forced to reveal what he knew of other races able to travel from world to world. Their own race had once been masters of one planet only, long centuries ago. When a spaceship of another race landed on it, the members of the space-ship's crew were overwhelmed by the thoughts of the Things. But their ancestors had been wise. They had not been—the thought was savage—foolishly gluttonous. They had controlled the newcomers, and the newcomers took them back to their own planet, and now the race which roamed the stars was subject to the race which could transmit its thoughts. Here was a new world for them, with an infinitude of subjects to serve and nourish them. With caution, all would go well. But this single immune must be caught and the degree of danger he represented learned....

The icy thoughts went on convincingly. The other thoughts that raced back and forth changed gradually. Some still raged and some still seemed to gibber incoherently from the shock of the death of their fellow, and the manner of it. But others concentrated their thoughts upon the men under their control. They commanded a man-hunt.

It was beginning when night fell. It continued through the night. It went on through the forenoon, with weakened humans collapsing from the demands upon their strength beyond the normal requirements of their masters.

But near midday there came a triumphant icy thought again. The problem was solved! The fugitive had written a letter and put it in a box to be gathered up and taken where he wished it to go. It was directed to be taken to that entity known as Security. It had been opened by a man under control, according to his orders. And according to his orders he had communicated it to the thinker of icy thoughts. The fugitive was a man, no different from other men. He had experimented with the sending of thoughts and had been condemned to imprisonment. He had escaped, and understood the subjugation of the people about him. He had tried to send this information to the entity called Security, but it was safely intercepted. Security would not receive it. He was only a man. He was the only man who could endanger them. Because Security had forbidden any other man even to study the means by which all of mankind would be enslaved!

The manhunt must go on. If he were killed it did not matter, now. But—the icy thought was suddenly insanely hateful—if he could be left unsubjugated while he was killed very, very, very slowly, it would be more adequate revenge for his insolence in daring to kill one of Them....