Next of Kin

by Eric Frank Russell

  “That is no business of yours. What other proof have you that Eustace is not imaginary?”

  Taking a deep breath, Leeming went determinedly on. “He has the power to do many things after which there is visible evidence that those things have been done.” He shifted attention to the absorbed officer sitting on the left. “For example, if my Eustace had a grudge against this officer and advised me of his intention to make him fall downstairs, and if before long the officer fell downstairs and broke his neck—”

  “It could be mere coincidence,” the Commandant scoffed.

  “It could,” agreed Leeming. “But there can be far too many coincidences. If a Eustace promises that he is going to do forty or fifty things in succession and all of them happen he is either doing them as promised or he is a most astounding prophet. Eustaces don’t claim to be prophets. Nobody visible or invisible can foresee the future with such detailed accuracy.”

  “That is true enough.”

  “Do you accept the fact that you have a father and mother?”

  “Of course,” admitted the Commandant.

  “You don’t consider it strange or abnormal?”

  “Certainly not. It is inconceivable that one should be born without parents.”

  “Similarly we accept the fact that we have Eustaces and we cannot conceive the possibility of existing without them.”

  The Commandant thought it over, said to the right-hand officer, “This smacks of mutual parasitism. It would be interesting to learn what benefit they derive from each other?”

  “It’s no use asking what my Eustace gets out of me,” Leeming chipped in, “I can’t tell you because I don’t know.”

  “You expect me to believe that?” asked the Commandant, behaving like nobody’s fool. He showed his teeth. “On your own evidence you can talk with him. Why have you never asked him?”

  “We Terrans got tired of asking that question long, long ago. The subject had been dropped and the situation accepted.”

  “Why?”

  “The answer is always the same. Eustaces readily admit that we are essential to their existence but can not explain how because they’ve no way of making us understand.”

  “That could be an excuse, a self-preservative evasion,” the Commandant offered, “They won’t tell you because they don’t want you to know.”

  “Well, what do you suggest we do about it?”

  Dodging that one, the Commandant went on, “What benefit do, you get out of the association. What good is your Eustace to you?”

  “He provides company, comfort, information, advice and —”

  “And what?”

  Bending forward, hands on knees, Leeming practically spat it at him. “If necessary, vengeance!”

  That struck home good and hard. The Commandant rocked back, displaying a mixture of ire and scepticism. The two under-officers registered disciplined apprehension. It’s a hell of a war when one can be chopped down by a ghost.

  Pulling himself together, the Commandant forced a grim smile as he pointed out, “You’re a prisoner. You’ve been under detention a good many days. Your Eustace doesn’t seem to have done much about it.”

  “Not yet,” agreed Leeming happily.

  “What d’you mean, not yet?”

  “As one free to roam at will on an enemy world he has enough top priority jobs to keep him busy for a piece. He’s been doing plenty and he’ll do plenty more, in his own time and his own way.”

  “Is that so? And what does he intend to do?”

  “Wait and see,” Leeming advised with formidable confidence.

  That did not fill them with delight.

  “Nobody can imprison more than half a Terran,” he went on. “The solid, visible, tangible half. The other half cannot be pinned down by any method whatsoever. It is beyond anyone’s control. It wanders loose collecting information of military value, indulging a little sabotage doing just as it pleases. You’ve created that situation and you’re stuck with it.”

  “We created it? We didn’t invite you to come here. You dumped yourself on us unasked.”

  “I had no choice about it because I had to make an emergency landing. This could have been a friendly world. It isn’t. Who’s to blame for that? If you insist on fighting with the Combine against the Allies you must accept the consequences—including whatever a Eustace sees fit to do.”

  “Not if we kill you,” said the Commandant nastily. Leeming gave a disdainful laugh. “That would make matters fifty times worse.”

  “In what way?”

  “The life-span of a Eustace is longer than that of his Terran partner, When a man dies his Eustace takes seven to ten years to disappear from existence. We have an ancient song to the effect that old Eustaces never die, they only fade away. Our world holds thousands of lonely, disconnected Eustaces gradually fading.”

  “So-?”

  “Kill me and you’ll isolate my Eustace here with no man or other Eustace for company. His days will be numbered and he’ll know it. He’ll have nothing to lose, being no longer restricted by considerations of my safety. Because I’ve gone for keeps he’ll be able to eliminate me from his plans and give his undivided attention to anything he chooses.” He eyed the listeners as he finished, “It’s a safe bet that he’ll run amok and create an orgy of destruction. Remember, you’re an alien lifeform to him. He’ll have no feelings or compunctions with regard to you.”

  The Commandant reflected in silence. It was exceedingly difficult to believe all this and his prime instinct was to reject it lock, stock and barrel. But before space-conquest it had been equally difficult to believe things more fantastic but now accepted as commonplace. He dared not dismiss it as nonsense; the time had long gone by when anyone could afford to be dogmatic. The space adventurings of all the Combine and the Allied species had scarcely scratched one galaxy of an unimaginable number composing the universe; none could say what incredible secrets were yet to be revealed including, perhaps; Such etheric entities as Eustaces.

  Yes, the stupid believe things because they are credulous—of they are credulous because stupid. The intelligent do not blindly accept but, being aware of their own ignorance, neither do they reject. Right now the Commandant was acutely aware, of general ignorance concerning the lifeform known as Terrans: It could be that they were dual creations, half-Joe; half-Eustace.

  “All this is not impossible,” he decided ponderously; “but it appears to me somewhat improbable. There are more than twenty lifeforms associated with us in the Combine. I do not know of one that exists in natural co-partnership with another.”

  “The Lathians do,” contradicted Leeming, mentioning the leaders of the opposition, the chief cause of the war. The Commandant was suitably startled. “You mean they have Eustaces too?”

  “No, I don’t. They have something similar but inferior. Each Lathian is unconsciously controlled by an entity that calls itself Willy something=or-other. They don’t know it, of course. We wouldn’t know it if our Eustaces hadn’t told us.”

  “How did they find out?”

  “As you know, the biggest battles to date have all been fought in the Lathian sector. Both sides have taken prisoners: Our Eustaces told us that each Lathian prisoner had a controlling Willy but was blissfully unaware of it.” He grinned, added, “They made it plain that a Eustace doesn’t think much of a Willy. Apparently a Willy is a pretty low form of associated life.”

  Frowning, the Commandant said, “This is something definite, something we should be able to check for ourselves: But how are we going to do it if the Lathians are ignorant of this state of affairs?”

  “Easy as pie,” Leeming offered. “They are holding a bunch of Terran prisoners. Get someone to ask those prisoners separately and individually, whether the Lathians’ have the Willies.”

  “We’ll do just that,” snapped the Commandant, his manner that of one about to call a bluff. He turned to the right-hand officer. “Bajashim, beam a signal to our chief liaison officer at Lathian H.
Q. and order him to question those prisoners.”

  “You can double-check while you’re at it,” interjected Leeming, “just to clinch it. To us, anyone who shares his life with an invisible being is known as a Nut Ask the prisoners whether all the Lathians are Nuts.”

  “Take note of that and have it asked as well,” ordered the Commandant. He returned attention to Leeming. “Since you could not anticipate your forced landing and capture, and since you have been kept in close confinement, there is no possibility of collusion between you and the Terran prisoners far away.”

  “That’s right ”

  “Therefore I shall weigh your evidence in the light of what replies come to my signal.” He stared hard at the other. “If those replies fail to confirm your statements I’ll know that you are a shameless liar in some respects and probably a liar in all respects. Here, we have special and very effective methods of dealing with liars.”

  “That’s to be expected. But if the replies do confirm me you’ll know that I’ve told the truth, won’t you?”

  “No,” said the Commandant savagely.

  It was Leeming’s turn to be shocked. “Why not?”

  Thinning his lips, the Commandant growled, “As I have remarked, there cannot possibly have been any direct communication between you and other Terran prisoners. However, that means nothing. There can have been collusion between your Eustace and their Eustaces.”

  Bending sideways, he jerked open a drawer, placed a loop-assembly on the desk. Then another and another. A bunch of them.

  “Well,” he invited with malicious triumph, “what have you to say to that?”

  NINE

  Leeming went into something not far off a momentary panic. He could see what the other meant. He could talk to his Eustace who in turn could talk to other Eustaces. And the other Eustaces could talk to their imprisoned partners.

  Get yourself out of that!

  He had an agile mind but after three months of semi-starvation it was tending to lose pace. Lack of adequate nourishment was telling on him already; his thoughts plodded at the very time he wanted them to sprint.

  The three behind the desk were waiting for him, watching His face, counting the seconds he needed to produce an answer. The longer he took to find one the weaker it would be. The quicker he came up with something good the more plausible it would sound. Cynical satisfaction was creeping into their faces and he was inwardly frantic by the time he saw an opening and grabbed at it.

  “You’re wrong on two counts.”

  “State them.”

  “Firstly, one Eustace cannot communicate with another over a distance so enormous. His mental output just won’t reach that far. To talk from world to world he has to have the help of a Terran who, in his turn, has radio equipment available.”

  “We’ve only your word for that,” the Commandant reminded. “If a Eustace can communicate without limit it would be your best policy to conceal the fact. You would be a fool to admit it.”

  “I cannot do more than give you, my word regardless of whether or not you credit it.”

  “I do not credit it-yet ”

  “No Terran task force has rushed to my rescue, as would happen had my Eustace told them about me.”

  “Pfah!” said the Commandant. “It would take them much longer to get here than the time you have spent as a prisoner. Probably twice as long: And then only if by some miracle they managed to avoid being shot to pieces on the way. The absence of a rescue party means nothing.” He waited for a response that did not come, finished, “if you have anything else to say it had better be convincing.”

  “It is,” assured Leeming. “And we don’t have my word for it. We have yours.”

  “Nonsense! I have made no statements concerning Eustaces.”

  “On the contrary, you have said that there could be collusion between them.”

  “What of it?”

  “There can be collusion only if Eustaces really exist, in which case my evidence is true. But if my evidence is false, then Eustaces do not exist and there cannot possibly be a conspiracy between non-existent things.”

  The Commandant sat perfectly still while his face took on a faint shade of purple. He looked and felt like a trapper trapped. The left-hand officer wore an expression of one struggling hard to suppress a disrespectful snicker.

  “If,” continued Leeming, piling it on for good measure; “you do not believe in Eustaces then you cannot logically believe in conspiracy between them. On the other hand, if you believe in the possibility of collusion then you’ve got to believe in Eustaces. That is, of course, if you’re in bright green breeches and your right mind.”

  “~Guard ” roared the Commandant. He pointed an angry finger. “Take him back to his cell.” Obediently they started hustling the prisoner through the door when he changed his mind and bawled, “Halt!” Snatching up a loop-assembly, he waved it at Leeming. “Where did you get the material with which to make this?”

  “My Eustace brought it for me. Who else?”

  “Get out of my sight!”

  “Merse, faplap!” urged the guards, prodding, with their guns. “Amash! Amash!”

  The rest of that day and all the next one he spent sitting or lying on the bench, reviewing what had taken place, planning his next moves and in lighter moments admiring his own ability as a whacking great liar.

  Now and again he wandered how his efforts to battle his way to freedom with his tongue compared with Rigellian attempts to do it with bare hands. Who was making the most progress? Of greater importance, who, once out, would stay out? One thing was certain: his method was less tiring to the underfed and weakened body though more exhausting to the nerves.

  Another advantage was that for the time being he had sidetracked their intention of squeezing him for military information. Or had he? Possibly from their viewpoint his revelations concerning the dual nature of Terrans were infinitely more important than details of armaments, which data might be false anyway. All the same, he had avoided for a time what might otherwise have been a rough and painful interrogation. By thus postponing the agony he had added brilliance to the original gem of wisdom, namely, that baloney baffles brains.

  Just for the ducks of it he bided his time and, when the spyhole opened, let it catch him in the middle of giving grateful thanks to Eustace for some weird service not specified. As intended, this got the jumpy Marsin to wondering who had arrived at the crossroads and copped some of Eustace’s dirty work. Doubtless the sergeant of the guard would speculate about the same matter before long. And in due course so would the officers.

  Near midnight, with sleep still evading him, it occurred to him that there vas no point in doing things by halves. If a thing is worth doing it is worth doing well—and that applies to lying or to any form of villainy as much as to anything else. Why rest content merely to register a knowing smile whenever the enemy suffered a petty misfortune?

  His tactics could be extended much farther than that. No form of life was secure from the vagaries of chance. Good fortune came along as well as bad, in any part of the cosmos. There was no reason why Eustace should not snatch the credit for both. No reason why he, Leeming, should not take unto himself the implied power to reward as well as to punish.

  That wasn’t the limit, either. Good luck and bad luck are positive phases of existence. He could cross the neutral zone and confiscate the negative phases. Through Eustace he could assign to himself not only the credit for things done, good or bad, but also for things not done. In the pauses between staking claims to things that happened he could exploit those that did not happen.

  The itch to make a start right now was irresistible. Rolling off the bench, he belted the door from top to bottom. The guard had just been changed for the eye that peered in was that of Kolum, a character who had bestowed a kick in the rump not so long ago. Kolum was a cut above Marsin, being able to count upon all twelve fingers if given sufficient time to cogitate.

  “So it is you!” said Leeming, show
ing vast relief. “I am very glad of that. I befriended you in the hope that he would lay off you; that he would leave you alone for at least a little while. He is far too impetuous and much too drastic. I can see that you are more intelligent than the other guards and therefore able to change for the better. Indeed, I have pointed out to him that you are obviously too civilized to be a sergeant. He is difficult to convince but I am doing my best for you.”

  “Huh?” said Kolum, half flattered, half scared.

  “So he’s left you alone at least for the time being,” Leeming said, knowing that the other was in no position to deny it. “He’s done nothing to you yet.” He increased the gratification. “I’ll do my very best to keep control of him. Only the stupidly brutal deserve slow death.”

  “That is true,” agreed Kolum eagerly, “but what—”

  “Now,” interrupted Leeming with firmness, “it is up to you to prove that any confidence is justified and thus protect yourself against the fate that is going to visit the slower-witted. Brains were made to be used, weren’t they?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Those who don’t possess brains cannot use what they haven’t got, can they?”

  “No, they cannot, but—”

  “All that is necessary to demonstrate your intelligence is to take a message to the Commandant.”

  Kolum popped his eyes in horror. “It is impossible: I dare not disturb him at this hour. The sergeant of the guard will not permit it. He will—”

  “You are not being asked to take the message to the Commandant immediately. it is to be given to him personally when he awakens in the morning.”

  “That is different,” said Kolum; vastly relieved. “But I must warn you that if he disapproves of the message he will punish you and not me.”

  “He will not punish me lest I in turn punish him,” assured Leeming, as though stating a demonstrable fact. “Write my message down.”

  Leaning his gun against the corridor’s farther wall, Kolum dug pencil and paper out of a pocket. A strained expression came into his eyes as he prepared himself for the formidable task of inscribing a number of words.