Up the Walls of the World

Chapter 15

It is so easy this time!

The thread of essence that is Giadoc has felt the tension-release which means that Terenc has left the Beam for an alien mind. Now Giadoc must enter one.

Life is near him; he touches, prepared to push. But there is no need—he finds himself being called, almost pulled into a strangely welcoming matrix. No fear here. He condenses into embodiment so gently that it occurs to him to greet the alien creature. As the displaced mind slides out on the Beam, it seems to leave him with a message: Danger. Take Care.

Extradorinary! What superior creatures, he thinks, establishing himself in the alien sensorium. To show Fatherly concern in the midst of what must be a terrifying experience. There will be no life-crime here; Giadoc resolves it. If he survives this test he will break the Beam rather than send such people to die on Tyree.

Remembering the stranger’s warning he makes no move, but lets the body lie in dark silence as he has found it, while he accustoms himself to the dead air and the weird somatic sensations. Thought flares are flooding around him, extra-energetic in the Beam’s power. He examines them, looking for Terenc. Seven minds in his immediate vicinity, but no Terenc. All are disorganized and seem totally unconscious; he can read them as if he were among animals. He has, he finds, returned to the same place as before. What is exciting them so?

The nearest mind-field is intent on his physical body, its owner is in fact actually touching his limbs. It thinks of itself as Doctoraris, a Body-Healer. And three others nearby seem to be Healers too. They are focussed on a dead person or animal. How bizarre to have so many Healers! It must be due to their dangerous life among solid matter at the bottom of the wind.

Beyond the Healers is a small, excited, simple field—a child or a female? No; it knows itself as “Kirk,” an adult male. Disgraceful!

Beside “Kirk” is the energy-phenomenon he remembers from his last visit: an unidentifiable complex of cold semisentience concentrated in a pod, with tendrils leading farther than he can scan. Some kind of intelligent plant? He probes Kirk’s mind, finds its image as a “console” or “computer,” apparently not alive. Fascinating!

All this has taken Giadoc only an instant, when suddenly a crude alien fear-probe bounces off him and he recalls that there may be danger here. Who tried to probe him? Ah—it came from the mind he met before, the being with multiple names, “Sproul,” “Barr,” or “Fearing,” whom he had greeted. Now it’s stationed apart in a high state of energy, violently compressed and yet drawing attention to itself by a barrage of hostile flares, mainly directed toward himself. This must be the problem the friendly alien had warned him of. This alien seems insanely concerned with ideas of concealment and control; Giadoc decides it would be unwise to attempt to interact with it again until it has calmed down. But he deciphers a useful fact from the repellent chaos of its thought: the body he is in is named “Doctordan.”

Meanwhile the “Doctoraris” mind beside him is clamorously willing him to show signs of bodily life. Giadoc makes a final distance scan-sweep but Terenc does not seem to be in range. Very well. Deliberately he opens Doctordan’s eyes.

The extraordinary silent light of this world bursts upon him, and the wealth of close, rigid outlines, surfaces, discrete movements, disorients him for a moment. It’s hard to identify the mad mute shapes with the mind-fields in his scan. He sorts out the forms of two Healers carrying a sagging thing away; doubtless the dead body they were concerned with. Giadoc is amazed again at the way everything drags downward in this windless place. Even the energy of the Beam seems muted here.

Now Doctoraris is projecting impatience, and, alarmingly, the intention to have him transported elsewhere and do unclear things to his body. Surely Giadoc must prevent this; it wouldn’t be fair to return the friendly alien to some unpleasant situation. Doctoraris’ mouth is opening and closing oddly. As Giadoc notices this he recalls the air-jet language of this world. He has forgotten to activate his “ears.”

He does so in time to hear speech coming from the “Fearing” alien.

“Kirk, you will tell the others that the Omali woman is under treatment for a heart problem. A minor heart problem. Is that clear, Harris?”

The words mean nothing to Giadoc except that they elicit fear-deference from the others. Amazing. But now he must do something if his body is not to be carried away too; his quiescence is being taken as a serious sign.

He energizes Doctordan’s limbs, intending to bring it upright like the others. It’s hard work, with no wind. He must hold the strange muscles rigid.

“Take it easy, Dann, wait—” Doctoraris protests audibly, his colors weirdly unchanging. “Do you feel all right?”

Giadoc allows the other to guide him into a chair.

“I am all right,” he pronounces, probing hard through Doctoraris’ mind for some plausible explanation of his collapse, while at the same time he works to deflect and drain the other’s concern with him. It’s all so alien. But finally he comes across an engram having to do with an organ in the upper part of his body.

“A minor heart problem,” he echoes Fearing’s words. All this time one of his upper limbs has been involuntarily groping in the recesses of the dead plant-stuff around his alien body. He encounters a small object and has a sudden vivid body-image of bringing it into his mouth. He does so.

“Forgot your medication, eh, Dann?” Doctoraris’ thoughts resolve and relax; the mind-turning worked. “Smith, get some water.”

“How about a coke, Doctor?” The other Healer asks.

“Okay.”

Giadoc manages to grope through the embarrassing ritual of public intake. Fearing is still watchfully lashing out at him from a distance, like a wild corlu in ambush.

“I still think we should take you in, Dann.”

“No, no need,” Giadoc protests. “I am all right now.”

To Giadoc’s surprise, Fearing comes to his aid. “I believe we can take Doctor Dann’s word for it, Harris. In fact I’d prefer him to remain here. Kirk, bring him some lunch and stay with him. Harris, since Dann says he’s all right, I think we’ll leave now.”

“Very well.”

Giadoc has been noticing a small but energetic field approaching from outside the “room.” As the others prepare to depart, the newcomer bounces in, saying, “Good God, Major, what’s going on here? Where’s Margaret? Dann, what’s wrong with you? The subjects were becoming extremely upset, I sent them to lunch.”

Giadoc ignores the rest of the conversation while he studies this new mind. It is another small-field male—are there no Fathers here? He sees himself in charge of the alien experiment in life-signals: “Project Polymer.” His name is “Noah” something and, surprisingly, there are areas of considerable order in his mind.

Good; Giadoc has just realized that he may be here some while. The Beam has not even withdrawn yet in this world’s time. Perhaps the time-scales are different. He should behave appropriately to leave the body in good shape for the real Doctordan, and this “Noah” is clearly the best mind by which to guide himself.

“How are you, Dann?” Noah is demanding with more empathy than Giadoc has seen on this world.

“I am all right, Noah. I forgot my medication, that is all.”

“Oh. Well, my goodness! Take care. I’m off to the hospital to check on Margaret. The next test is at three sharp, you know.”

Regretfully, Giadoc watches him leave with the others. Too bad. But he can use the time alone to gain skill with his body.

As he rises unsteadily to his feet he feels the power of the Beam drain away and cease. On far Tyree the Hearers have broken link. Will his life continue?

He stands gazing around the windless alien enclosure, wrestling with rebellious memories. Tyree’s plight—Tivonel— Tiavan’s wicked intent. No—No time for that now. What’s wrong with him? Resolutely he orders his mind. The minutes pass. He lives.

He feels nothing more than a slightly unpleasant lowering of his vitality. As he had suspected, it is possible to live on here without the Beam.

Very well. His task now is to maintain Doctordan’s role until the Beam returns and he can go home. He moves about, gaining clearer and firmer contact with the body’s autonomous skills, using his upper limbs to examine himself and his coverings, touching things. These manipulators are so large and strong and naked! It’s like being a child again, before his mantle grew. Obviously these beings continue to manipulate matter all their adult lives.

On impulse he presses at the “console” of the cryptic semisentience. It does not respond. Presently he wanders to the access-opening of this place and stands looking out at the extraordinary world of the Abyss. The sheer quantity of static stuffs, the hard wind-bottom with its silent coloration of fear and shame, the ugly verticals and horizontals everywhere, the mute unchanging light. Unsettling, profoundly alien to the blessed blowing world of hime. But how exhilarating, to have all this time in an alien world! If this is to be his last adventure, it’s a worthy one.

Experimentally, he pushes aside the access-cover and steps out. A weak flare of hostility greets him. Who did that?

Ah; he makes out a kind of pod resting in the middle distance. An alien mind-field is inside. At this range Giadoc can read only vague resentments connected with food and the vigilant intention to prevent Doctordan’s body from proceeding farther. He steps back inside.

Extraordinary how much hostility the amiable Doctordan seems to be surrounded by. What a ferocious world! Well, not his concern.

Another pod is noisily arriving. Giadoc watches the “Kirk” alien get out, followed by what is clearly a pet animal. He is carrying objects which he intends to eat—with Giadoc. Oh, winds! Well, so be it.

“Up and around, Doc?”

No empathy here, quite the reverse. But the pet animal is projecting contact-welcome. Giadoc lets his hand move toward it and stops just in time at the flash of jealousy shooting from Kirk’s mind-field. What wild people! He follows Kirk to the corner and watches him open the food, probing for his expectations of Doctordan’s behavior. Ah; he seats himself.

Fortunately, no speech seems to be expected. By closely following Kirk’s mind-pictures, at the same time copying his own actions, Giadoc manages to grapple with what seems to be called a “chicken sandwich” and some “milk.” His body’s automatic eating actions begin to unroll. Giadoc is delighted; it’s like the child’s game of following his Father’s mental images of mat-weaving. But now he must sort deeper through the other mind for clues to what Doctordan’s next actions will be. It’s hard to believe these people are so unconscious.

As Giadoc’s thought-tendrils snake into the other mind, he comes upon a pocket of emotion so repellent that he drops the “sandwich.”

“Had enough, Doc?”

“A, a weakness,” Giadoc stammers. Why, this creature before him is guilty of physical harm, thinks he has perhaps caused the death of a female. Yes, that dead alien he had glimpsed. And it excites him. Why, these people are savages!

“Terrible about Margaret,” Kirk says, his thought wildly at variance with his words. “I guess I didn’t take you seriously.”

“Yes.” Picking up the sandwich, Giadoc pushes aside a flare of repulsive malice toward Doctordan, and concentrates on what there is of Kirk’s rational memory-field. “Project Polymer”—ah, here it is. He finds a pyramidal structure with Kirk himself at the top beside a small figure of Noah. Six subjects—the tests—a mind at a distance will attempt to transmit again, etc. etc. All quite simple and childish. But—Wind save us—Kirk’s memory of what he, as Doctordan, will be expected to do, arrangments of complex matter on the test-persons, “electrodes,” “pressure cuffs,” “biomonitors”—it’s appalling. And much too vague. He could never guide himself by this mind. And the next test is quite soon!

If the Beam does not return in time, what can he do?

Well, of course he can always feign illness as he had before. But the spirit of the game has him; he will play out his last adventure as far as he can. An idea comes to him, watching Kirk feed the last of his food to his “dog.” Perhaps by double-probing the test persons and the old male “Noah” simultaneously he can get by? That would be a feat!

At this moment two things occur. A pod pulls up outside and releases a flood of large, active mind-fields—and Giadoc realizes that his Doctordan body requires to eliminate water. What to do, in this windlessness?

Luckily the same thought has just risen in Kirk’s mind. Another cross-wind conquered! He copies Kirk’s disposal of the debris and follows him back to the “latrine” before the new aliens come in.

The liquid-elimination routine proves simple, the body’s habits are strong. As he stands beside Kirk, Giadoc allows himself to sample more of the other’s surface thought, and suddenly picks up a detailed picture of alien sexuality. It fascinates him so that he almost forgets to hold his stream of liquid steady. Imagine, all that contact! Never to know the ecstasy of repulsion—and the egg unblessed by the wind! And how does the Father pouch the egg? Is this Kirk totally immature?

His explorations are interrupted by the entry of another alien, and Giadoc barely manages to follow Kirk’s lead in restoring his “dick” and “zipper” to their original states.

The newcomer is transmitting friendship toward him and hostility toward Kirk. Giadoc pauses; the field is so large and expressive that he is sure this mind must be aware. But no; in answer to his mental greeting the other only says, “Not feeling so good, Doc?”

“Weak,” Giadoc says, studying the other. Its name is “Tedyost,” and it is preoccupied with some massive grief. Giadoc probes further and it enlightened: Tedyost’s body is damaged by some illness that afflicts these people. He is in fact dying. Moved by such frailty, Giadoc involuntarily sends him the ritual energy-gift appropriate to the old.

“Dann! Where are you? It’s time to set up.”

Noah is calling him and the Beam has not returned. Well, now for some improvisation worthy of a true Beam traveler!

He finds Noah just outside.

“I fear I am not feeling all right,” Giadoc tells him. “Can you assist me?”

“Damnation! And this is the big one. Margaret out sick, they wouldn’t even let me see her. Oh, all right. Every bloody thing always—”

His anger is wholly superficial, Giadoc sees; the intent to help is strong. He follows Noah into a small enclosure containing a mind-field in such agitation that he cannot help extending a Fatherly field-edge. And he can sense others almost in panic nearby. Winds, this is going to be rough, if he must soothe and double-probe at the same time!

Moreover, the mind under his touch is a puzzle—an unmistakable Father who thinks of himself as a low-status female. But no time for puzzles now. Noah is manipulating a formidable mass of dead tendrils attached to chinks of shiny matter, expecting him to do something. What, what? Shamelessly he thrusts among them both, probing for the veins of expectation, their anticipations of what he will do. Ah, yes—select that “wire,” the one with the clasperlike disk.

Concentrating with all his might, Giadoc lets his Doctordan hands carry it to the “temple,” seat it on the skin. Approval in both minds—that was right. Now the next, yes, and the next. Memorize carefully. Is he succeeding?

Beside him Noah is doing something with “reels,” not his concern. They are expecting him to attach another set of wires, something to do with circulation; the alien has extended a lower limb. Which wire? Ah—he guesses right and is already applying it when he catches the surprised objection, “electrode paste.” What? Oh—He finds the substance and achieves the proper combination, though apparently too lavishly.

But it’s working, he can do it! Elated, he realizes that this ambiguous alien is transmitting warm, Fatherly sympathy to Doctordan. Apparently the friendly Doctordan is well regarded by the test people, whatever hostility he evokes elsewhere. Thinking this, Giadoc lets his concentration slip and discovers he has done something wrong with the strip of matter on the upper limb.

“Let me, Doctor,” He/she tells him verbally. “You feel rotten, don’t you?”

“Weak,” he admits, watching closely as the strip is wound. Noah has gone out.

“It’s this awful place. If we get out of here alive I’ll be grateful.”

The being is deeply, deeply afraid, he realizes. So are they all, he is receiving a wail of fear-thoughts, images of horrifying captivity, indignities, the “Fearing” monster. Well, not his concern. He presses the other’s mind with an enfolding flow of reassurance, and turns his body to go.

“You forgot to turn it on.”

He turns back, succeeds in following the thought to a cryptic “switch” where he elicits a click and a flow of almost visible dead energy. More marvels—apparently these beings can control inanimate powers. If only he could stay and learn! But where is the Beam?

Noah is in the next compartment, busy with a small, obviously, mind-wounded alien. More expectations greet him: it is the same task all over again. His memory is clear, and this being is not in such tumultuous distress. With rising assurance, Giadoc seizes a strand of matter and begins.

“Hey, Doc, not on my ear.”

Somehow Giadoc fumbles through it, expecting every instant to feel the rising energy of the Beam. Meanwhile he is becoming increasingly pleased with himself. His Father’s soul is moved by the trouble of these wretched aliens, but as a Hearer he is fascinated by their chaotic, extraordinary individuality. Nowhere does he find the communal engrams, the shared world-views like those any Tyrenni Father transmits to his young. These beings seem to have had no Fathering; even these mind-experimenters have no real communication. Each is utterly alone. They are aliens to each other.

Giadoc moves from one to the next, manipulating the strange artifacts, dispensing what comfort he can. Meanwhile he has given up trying to decipher roles and genders; he samples the wildly disparate minds —lonely prides, pains, longings, incomprehensible enthusiasms. Each alone in its different structure and quality. What an extraordinary experiment of nature! How lucky he is to have experienced this.

When he is dealing with the sick young male he had met before he has a surprise. In Tedyost’s mind is a scene of rushing, foaming colors. Why, if is almost like the wind of—a place Giadoc will not think of now. There seems to be some beauty on this world too. What a pity he has no time to explore. Tedyost has apparently been banished from his loved place because of his body’s illness. How unjust, Giadoc muses, recalling just in time to “turn on” the thing. In fact, this seems to be an unjust, dangerous world. Well, perhaps Doctordan when he returns will be able to help them. But why is the Beam delaying?

The last test-person is most pitiable of all, a mind almost formless with fear for some missing family-member.

“Listen, Doc, they’ve done something to Ron. I know it.”

Giadoc can only transmit an emergency pressure of calm, leaving “Rick” staring after him. Noah is blasting out impatience for him to go out to the large enclosure and wait. Giadoc complies.

“Two minutes. Everybody ready?”

Kirk is here too, his dog-animal stationed by his side. Giadoc seats himself, thinking that he must not leave Doctordan’s body to fall downward when the Beam returns, as it surely must any moment now. Hungry for knowledge, he scans the cryptic energy of the “computer.” Oh, for more time!

“Fifteen hundred, three o’clock. Start!”

Nothing happens for an instant—and then a roar on the life-bands rips through the air so fiercely that Giadoc almost retracts his scan.

“A-B-A-J-M! A-B-A-J-M! A-B-A-J-M!”

Great winds, it’s Terenc!

He must have entered the distant test-person, the one in the water-pod somewhere. Now he is acting out his part. His nonsensical repeating signal is so strong it’s bringing fuzzy imagery-scraps. As Giadoc is noticing these, his alien ears are assailed by a yell from Rick.

“That’s not my brother! They’ve done something terrible to Ron!”

Giadoc opens the door and automatically thrusts an emergency-calm field-edge at Rick, while Noah implores, “It’s all right, Ricky! Ron’s all right! Please, Ricky, please don’t spoil the test.”

“He’s not all right,” Rick persists as Terenc’s transmission blares on. But Giadoc’s efforts are having effect. Rick slumps back in his seat and lets Noah replace his marking tools. “Please write down what you got, Rick. We’ll check Ron as soon as it’s over.”

Excitement is emanating from all the compartments; the others are evidently hearing Terenc’s signal all too clearly too. How could they fail?

Giadoc maintains what hold he can on Rick while Noah calls out, “Second group. Start!”—and Terenc’s new signal comes blasting through.

“B-N-O-Z-P! B-N-O-Z-P! B-N-O-”

More agitation from the other cubicles. Giadoc strains to send out a wave of reassurance while keeping pressure on Rick. Oh, when will the Beam come and free him?

“Third group. Start!”

May Terenc fall out of the Wind, Giadoc curses, as the third shout yammers through. The effort to soothe them all is taking all the field-strength he has on this weak world. But Terenc is throwing them close to panic, and it’s his responsibility not to let harm come… The interval seems to take forever.

By the fourth signal even Kirk is showing signs of disturbance, but Giadoc does not care. Where in the Wind’s name is the Beam? They must recall Terenc first.

As the fifth signal howls in, Noah pops his head through the door.

“Dann, I believe I’m getting something myself!” he whispers, his field flaring elatedly. “This is amazing, we must discover the exact conditions. Ron’s never been so good before!”

And never will again, winds willing, Giadoc thinks.

And then to his infinite relief he feels the thrill in the air, the palpable, thrumming, building power of the seeking Beam.

“Take Terenc! Take Terenc first!” he projects with all his might as the last signal-groups come ripping through.

“That’s it!” Noah is shouting happily, rushing among the cubicles. “Identical! Every one identical, Kirk! Oh, wait till they see this. Dann, Dann, come help me get the subjects out.”

But Giadoc does not stir. The huge tension of the Beam is coming to full focus on him now. In a moment he will be away forever and the real Doctordan will be here to do his work. Giadoc wishes them well. But why is it taking so long?

Ah! Energy culminates.

But just as he gathers himself to launch out upon it, he realizes something is wrong. No good, wrong bias! His life is thrown back violently, dazing him, but he realizes the dreadful meaning. “NO! Fathers, you must not!” he sends fiercely.

But it is too late. Familiar energies are blooming into being nearby.

“Doctor Dann, help! Frodo—”

“Dann! Chris is—”

Giadoc staggers through the clamor in the cubicles, already knowing what he will find. Yes—an alien female body is lying screaming on the floor, wreathed in the terrified field of a Tyrenni child. As he stares, the small alien male blunders past him and falls to its knees by the body. Around him surges the huge, unmistakable field of a Father of Tyree. The newcomer clasps the alien girl. The fields merge, the screams cease.

It is the life-field of Giadoc’s son, Tiavan, and his child.

“Criminal! Go back!” Giadoc lashes at him.

“Tyree is burning. I will save my child.” And then Tiavan is wholly preoccupied in Fathering, his alien mouth mumbling “Calm, you’re safe my little one. Father’s here.”

Uproar among the aliens; one is clinging to Giadoc and crying out. The air is humming and bursting with the power of the Beam. The alien Kirk has pushed into the commotion and, unthinkably, is tugging at Tiavan’s small bodily form, trying to pull him from his child. Tiavan mind-strikes him, he staggers back. Then Rick gives a loud scream and falls, while another, smaller Tyrenni field streams out around him. “No wind!” it transmits in horror. But Giadoc has no time to attend, he is almost knocked over by Kirk charging out.

“I’m calling the patrol. You freaks are into my head!”

“No, no, Kirk!” Noah rushes after him.

Giadoc follows in time to see Kirk seizing some energy-device. But as he does so, his body arches backward and he shouts wordlessly, falling. In a moment his own limited energies are replaced by the wildly faring energies of a child of Tyree. At its first cries, the old ambiguous alien stumbles out and falls upon it, another huge Father-field furled around them both. Giadoc thinks he recognizes the life-pattern of Father Colto. Kirk’s animal is circling them, uttering yelps.

“Doctor Dann, what’s happening?” cries the alien still clinging to his arm. Next second she too staggers, still hanging on him, and the life-aura spreads to a pattern he knows: the female Avanil.

“N-o w-wind—” she mumbles, and collapses. There is a final yell and crash from the corridor.

Angered beyond expression, Giadoc stands irresolute in the throbbing, energy-brimming room. Seven Tyrenni are here. Only the old alien Noah is left, so excited that he can only turn in place, gasping, “You—you—Who! We, I think I—” while the power of the Beam rains down, still biassed against him.

Then the dog suddenly falls over, and Giadoc sees a last Tyrenni field striving to form around it.

The Beam clears. He is free to go.

But as he gathers himself, the vision of the two Fathers attempting to comfort their grotesque “children” wrenches him. And Tiavan, his son. How can he leave them to the dangers of this place? Desperately he mind-shouts, “Go back! Undo your crime. This is a dangerous world, your children are not safe here.”

“No!” The figure of Tedyost lurches out of the corridor, a big Tyrenni field streaming about it. But the life is damaged, in terrible disarray; Giadoc can scarcely recognize him.

“Scomber!” he exclaims aloud. “You have done this thing.”

“Yes.” Tedyost’s body falls against the wall and slides downward, while Scomber’s wounded life writhes, trying to restore itself. Beyond him Giadoc can see Tiavan trying to force his small alien body to carry or drag his child in this windless place. It is pathetic beyond bearing. But the power of the Beam is falling and rising oddly; Giadoc must go.

At that moment he becomes aware of alien minds outside, and a hostile emanation from the doorway.

Major Fearing walks into the room.

The hatred he transmits is so shocking that Giadoc is transfixed. Danger here. But the alien’s outward appearance is spuriously calm and relaxed as he gazes around the chaotic room. When he perceives the prone figure of Kirk cuddled in the old alien’s arms his mind forms the words, “They’ve got that fool Kirk.” Meanwhile his mouth is saying smilingly, “Well, Noah, how did your big test go?”

His hand holds out a paper.

Noah comes out of his trance and begins distractedly exclaiming and showing Fearing his results. As he does so, Giadoc can read in Fearing’s thoughts the intent to do some violence to the bodies in which the Tyrenni are, in which his son is; a picture of them lying inert and mindless, something about Doctoraris. The contrast between Fearing’s hatred and his demeanor is frightening, it implies absolute power to do his will. The Beam is flickering again, but Giadoc cannot leave the oblivious Tyrenni now. The Beam will wait for him; it must.

“DANGER! DANGER!” He sends in utmost-emergency mode. But the Fathers are too preoccupied. Only Avanils’ mind starts to respond. But she breaks off, touching the dog, and mind-cries, “Janskelen! Janskelen is in this bad body!”

It is true, Giadoc sees, but he is thinking of protecting Tiavan. He can now read Fearing’s intention to call in his followers and seize the helpless Tyrenni. Great Wind, what can he do? Can he mind-turn Fearing as one would an animal? For even that he needs another Father’s help.

“Tiavan, Colto! Help me for your children’s sake! Tiavan—

As he mind-shouts the Beam falters, rises, sinks away worse than before. Is he about to be trapped here? “Tiavan—Colto—” Meanwhile Fearing is saying with eerie calm, “Remarkable range and accuracy, Doctor. I compliment you. I obviously did not take this as seriously as I should. Fortunately I have been able to make immediate security arrangements.”

“What do you mean, security arrangements?” Noah demands confusedly.

“In your natural enthusiasm, Doctor Catledge, you have overlooked the first and basic consideration of any intelligence capability. Control. Control. This remarkable demonstration makes speed all the more imperative.”

He turns toward the door, flicking a snap of cold energy from his wrist.

It is the last instant for them all, Giadoc understands. “Tiavan! Colto! They are about to take and harm your children! Send them back!”

“But these are people, Major,” Noah is shouting. “This is the United States of America!”

“Precisely,” Fearing says.

At that moment the power of the Beam rises momentarily, and a bolt of life-energy flies through the room, dazing them all. When Giadoc’s senses clear, Fearing is prone on the floor beside the dog, who is squealing and jerking frantically.

Fearing rises awkwardly to one knee and Giadoc, astounded, sees what has happened.

“Janskelen!”

“Y-y-yes,” says the mouth of Fearing.

The door of the room opens and a large alien stands there, its small field oriented to Fearing. “Sir?”

Giadoc abandons all civility and sends a hard mental command into the old female’s mind. Janskelen flinches, but she is quick.

“Remove… that… animal,” she says with Fearing’s voice.

The dog is slavering, attempting to walk on its hind legs, with Fearing’s mind-field whirling about it so madly that it seems impossible the alien does not see. But he only advances a step, studying it phlegmatically.

Noah starts to speak, but Giadoc mind-quells him.

The dog howls and scrambles awkwardly onto the desk.

“Be careful, it is dangerous,” Giadoc says involuntarily.

“Yes sir.” Still with no animation the alien turns to the door and calls. “Deming! Bring a net and a can of four-oh-eight!”

At this the dog screams again and leaps straight for him. The alien ducks aside and the dog bolts out the open door. Shouting from outside. Then the alien turns back and asks, “Do you want Doctor Harris’ team here now, sir?”

Again Giadoc improvises mental commands, and “Fearing” says slowly, “No. Tell them… to go. That will be… all.”

“Yessir.” The alien departs.

Safe, for the moment at least. But the Beam is fading badly, Giadoc must go now or be forever trapped.

“Tyrenni! You are still in peril. Tell this old alien Noah who you are. He may help you. I will not commit life-crime. I go.”

Gathering himself to the failing power, he casts a last scan back on the scene that holds his only child—he will remember it always—and hurls his life up and out onto the frail life-thread. He is just in time, he feels being caught, stretched immaterially in a flash through nowhere. Back to doomed Tyree, back to Tivonel! And Doctordan back to his rightful body. He has made it, he hurtles exultantly. The Beam holds true!

But just as he exults—his universe vanishes.

The skein of vitality that bore him has gone to nothing, there is no Beam. All energy has died. He is only a dwindling nothing adrift in nowhere, all life is draining out of him. He is about to die. And ahead looms a dreadful blackness that his fading mind knows only too well.

The Destroyer.

Goodbye Tyree… Goodby Tivonel… Thought dies. Helpless in cold and dark, that which had been Giadoc plunges into death.