The Empire of Isher

by A. E. van Vogt

  Hedrock stepped gingerly through a little alcove into a larger room.

  Five

  IT WAS QUIET INSIDE. NOT A SOUND PENETRATED FROM the busy daylight world from which he had come. His eyes swiftly accustomed themselves to the soft lighting, which came like a reflection from the walls and ceiling. He glanced around alertly, and at first he had the impression that there was no one in the outer room. That tensed him, for it seemed to indicate that they had been unable to hold Neelan.

  It might even be that the expected warning had come through, and that this was a trap.

  Hedrock sighed, and relaxed. Because if it was a trap then his chances of escape would depend on how many men they were prepared to sacrifice. They must know he would fight to avoid capture. On the other hand, if it was not a trap there was nothing to worry about. He decided not to worry, for a time anyway. He gazed curiously at the showcases which stood against the walls or were neatly arranged around the floor. They were shining structures, about a dozen of them altogether. Hedrock stepped up to the one nearest the door, and gazed at the four rifles that were mounted inside it. The sight of them thrilled him. He had had much to do with the development of these intricate energy weapons, but with him familiarity with machines had never bred contempt.

  Many of these weapons still carried the old names. “Guns” they were called, or “revolvers,” or “rifles,”

  but there the resemblance ended. These “guns” did not shoot bullets, they discharged energy in many forms and quantities. Some of them could kill or destroy at a thousand miles if necessary, and yet they were controlled by the same sensitive elements as the weapon shop door. Just as the door refused to open for police officers, Imperial soldiers or people unfriendly to the Shops, so these guns had been set to fire only in self-defense, and against certain animals during open season.

  They also had other special qualities, particularly as to defense and speed of operation.

  Hedrock moved around the edge of the case, and saw that there was a tall man sitting in a chair almost out of sight behind another showcase. He presumed it was Neelan, but before he could go over and introduce himself, there was an interruption. The door to the rear of the shop opened, and an older, heavily built man emerged. He came forward with an apologetic smile on his lips.

  “I beg your pardon, Mr. Hedrock,” he said. “I was aware of the outer door opening, and guessed it was you. But I had started a mechanical operation which I could not leave.”

  He was still being treated as if he was a major Weapon Shop personage. Hedrock gave the attendant one sharp glance, and decided that the man hail not yet been advised that Robert Hedrock no longer had Weapon Shop privileges. The attendant raised his voice, “Oh, Mr. Neelan, this is the gentleman I mentioned to you.”

  The stranger climbed to his feet, as Hedrock and the clerk came over. The clerk said, “I took the liberty of informing Mr. Neelan a few minutes ago that you were coming.” He broke off. “Mr. Neelan, I want you to meet Robert Hedrock, an executive officer of the Weapon Shops.”

  As they shook hands, Hedrock was aware of himself being examined by a pair of hard, black eyes.

  Neelan’s face was heavily tanned, and Hedrock guessed that he had recently been to planets or on meteors that had little or no protection from the direct rays of the sun.

  He began to regret that he had not taken the time to find out a little more about Dan Neelan and his missing brother. Having failed to do so, the important thing now was to take Neelan out of the shop to a place where they could talk in safety. Before he could speak, the attendant said: “For your information, Mr. Hedrock, we are securing Mr. Neelan’s mail for him from his Martian postal address. You’ll have plenty of time to talk to him.”

  Hedrock did not argue the matter. The words had a fateful clang. But what had happened was natural enough. The women at Information Center had sought a simple solution to the problem of holding Neelan for him in this shop. So they had offered to secure his mail from Mars by way of a Weapon Shop transmitter.

  They had set a limited objective, and they had achieved it. It was possible that Neelan could be lured out of the shop for a short time. But there was a stubborn twist to the man’s lips, and his eyes were ever so faintly narrowed, as if he had had to accustom himself to watch for trickery. Hedrock knew that breed of men, and it was unwise to try to put them under pressure. A suggestion to leave the shop would have to wait, but the need for speed could be indicated. He turned to the attendant.

  “Great issues are at stake, so I hope you won’t think me impolite if I start to talk immediately to Mr. Neelan.”

  The older man smiled. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said, and went into the back room.

  There was another chair in a nearby corner. Hedrock dragged it over, motioned Neelan back into his own chair, and settled down himself. He began immediately: “I’m going to be very frank with you, Mr.

  Neelan. The Weapon Shops have reason to believe that Derd Kershaw and your brother have invented an interstellar drive. There is evidence that the Empress of Isher would be unalterably opposed to the release of such an invention. And, accordingly, Kershaw and your brother are in serious danger of being killed and imprisoned. It’s vitally important to find out where they were building this drive and what has happened to them.” He finished quietly, “I hope you will be able to tell me what you know of the affair.”

  Neelan was shaking his head. His smile was ironic, almost grim. “My brother is in no danger of being killed,” he said.

  “Then you know where he is?” Hedrock was relieved.

  Neelan hesitated. When he finally spoke, Hedrock had the feeling that the words were not those that the man had first intended to utter. Neelan said, “What do you want of me?”

  “Well, for one thing, who are you?”

  The determined face relaxed the faintest bit. “My name is Daniel Neelan. I am the twin brother of Gilbert Neelan. We were born in Lakeside ... Is that what you mean?”

  Hedrock smiled his friendliest smile.“A development of that. There are lines in your face that indicate a lot has happened since then.”

  “Right now,” said Neelan, “I could be classified as a meteor miner. For the past ten years I’ve been away from earth. Most of that time I spent as a gambler on Mars, but two years ago I won a meteorite from a drunken fellow named Carew. I gave him back half of it out of pity, and we became partners. The meteor is three miles in diameter, and it’s practically a solid chunk of ‘heavy’ beryllium. On paper we’re worth billions of credits, but it needs another couple of years of development before we can start to cash in. About a year ago I had a very special reason for believing that something had happened to my brother.”

  He paused. There was an odd expression on his face. Finally, he said, “Have you ever heard of the experiments conducted by the Eugenics Institute?”

  “Why, yes,” said Hedrock, with the beginning of understanding. “Some remarkable work has been done, particularly with identical twins.”

  Neelan nodded. “That makes it easier to tell you what happened.”

  He stopped again, and then slowly began his account. The scientists had taken them at the age of five, Daniel and Gilbert Neelan, identical twins already sensitive to each other, and magnified the sensitivity until it was a warm interflow of life force, a world of dual sensation. The interrelation grew so sharp that at short distances, thought passed between them with all the clarity of the electronic flux in a local telestat.

  Those early years had been pure joy of intimate relation. And then at the age of twelve began the attempt to make them different without breaking the nervous connection. Like a kid tossed into a deep pool to sink or swim, he was subjected to the full impact of Isher civilization, while Gil was secluded and confined to studious ways. Over those years, their intellectual association declined. Thoughts, though still transmittable, could be concealed. Neelan developed a. curiously strong, big-brother attitude toward Gil, while Gil—

  The
grim man paused in his account, glanced at Hedrock, and then continued, “I guess I noticed the diffident way in which Gil tackled adulthood by the way he reacted to my experiences with taking out women It shocked him, and so I began to realize that we had a problem.” He shrugged. “There never was any question as to which of us would leave Earth.

  On the day that the contract with the Eugenics Institute terminated, I bought a ticket for Mars. I went there in the belief that Gil would have his chance at life. Only—” he finished in a drab voice “—it turned out to be death.”

  “Death?” said Hedrock.

  “Death.”

  “When?”

  “A year ago. That’s what brought me to Earth. I was on the meteor when I felt him die.”

  Hedrock said, “It’s taken you a long time to get here.” The remark sounded too sharp, so he added quickly, “Please understand, I’m only trying to obtain a clear picture.”

  Neelan said wearily, “We were caught on the far side of the sun, because the meteor’s velocity almost matched that of Earth. It only recently came into a position where we could figure out an acceptable orbit for our simple type freighter. A week ago Carew set me down at one of the cheap northern spaceports.

  He departed at once, but he’s due to pick me up in about six months.”

  Hedrock nodded. The account was satisfactory. “Just what did you feel when your brother died?” he asked.

  Neelan shifted in his chair. There had been pain, he explained uneasily. Gil had died in agony, suddenly, without expecting it. The anguish had bridged the multimiles between Earth and the meteor, and twisted his own nerves in dreadful sympathy. Instantly, there had been an end to that neutral pressure which had constituted, even at that distance, the bond between his brother and himself.

  He finished, “I haven’t felt so much as a tingle since then.”

  In the silence that followed, Hedrock realized that his time must be running short.

  For minutes the necessity for concentrating on Neelan’s words had kept the pressure of urgency away from his mind. Now that barrier was no more, and the pressure was on. Time to leave! Leave now! The purpose was steady and intense; and because of his sharp awareness of things Weapon Shop he knew that he dared not ignore the warning impulse. And yet—he leaned back in his chair, and stared at the other man soberly. When he departed he wanted to take Neelan with him, and that meant the process must be orderly. He made a mental calculation, and slowly shook his head.

  “I can’t quite see this affair as having gone through a major crisis as far back as a year ago.”

  Neelan’s black eyes were suddenly dull as tarnished metal. “I’ve noticed that the death of one man seldom produces a crisis,” he said in a drab voice. “I hate to say that in connection with my own brother, but it’s the truth.”

  “And yet,” said Hedrock, “something happened. For Kershaw is also missing.”

  He did not wait for a reply, but climbed to his feet and walked to the control board, which was located on the wall to his left. All these minutes he had been acutely conscious that Weapon Shop soldiers might swarm through the transmitter that was there. He couldn’t take the chance of that happening while he was organizing his retreat.

  He stepped close to the board, with its winking lights. He intended to make sure Neelan couldn’t see what he was doing. Quickly, he activated one of his rings, and burned a needle-small hole in the delicate transmitter circuit. Instantly, a tiny light behind the paneling went dead.

  Hedrock turned away from the board, relieved but as intent on his purpose as ever. He had protected his flank, nothing more. There was another transmitter in the rear of the shop, and for all he knew men were coming through it at this very moment. And other men in armored warships could be swinging in to cut him off from his carplane.

  The risks he was taking were measured in just such desperate terms. He walked back to Neelan, and said, “I have an address of your brother’s that I’d like to check right away. And I want you to come with me.” He spoke earnestly. “I assure you speed is important. You can tell me the rest of your story on the way, and I can drop you back here afterwards to pick up your mail.”

  Neelan stood up. “Actually, there’s not very much more to tell,” he said. “When I arrived in Imperial City, I located my brother’s old address, and learned something that—”

  “Just a moment,” said Hedrock. He walked to the door that led to the rear, knocked on it, and called,

  “I’m taking Mr. Neelan with me, but he’ll be back for his mail. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply, but returned to Neelan. “Let’s go,” he said briskly.

  Neelan headed for the front entrance, talking as he went. “I discovered that my brother had maintained a false residence for registration purposes.”

  As they were going out of the door, Hedrock said, “You mean he didn’t live at his registered address?”

  “His landlady told me,” said Neelan, “that he not only didn’t live there, but gave her permission to rent the room. He turned up one evening a month, as required by law, and so her conscience was clear.”

  Out of the shop and along the walk that led toward the car-plane ... Hedrock knew that Neelan was talking, and presently the meaning would penetrate. But his attention now was on the heavens. Planes flitted across them, but no long dark shape; no torpedo-like structure darting in on wings of atomic energy ... He held the door of his small machine open for Neelan, and stepped in after him. A moment later, he sank into the control chair; and from its vantage point saw that there was no movement around the shop.

  As the carplane climbed into the air Hedrock saw that Neelan was examining the controls. There was a confidence about his exploration that spoke “expert” louder than words. The man caught his gaze, and said, “There’re a couple of new things here. What’s this gadget?” He indicated the detector system.

  That particular device was a Weapon Shop secret. It was pot a very important one, however, so Hedrock had risked putting it in a plane that could conceivably fall into the hands of people hostile to the Shops. The Imperial government had similar devices but of slightly different construction.

  Hedrock countered Neelan’s question. “I see you’re familiar with machinery?”

  “I majored in atomic engineering,” said Neelan. He added with a faint smile, “The Eugenic Institute does well by its protégés.”

  In this case, they had indeed. Until this instant Hedrock had considered Neelan important because of the information he might have. He was impressed by the obviously tough fiber of the other’s character, but he had met so many hard and capable men in his long career that that quality of itself had not seemed of outstanding interest. The degree was. It changed his attitude. A man who knew atomic energy in the all embracing way it was taught at the great universities could practically name his own price if he went into industry. And if they ever found the interstellar drive he’d be of inestimable value. Accordingly, Neelan was a man to be cultivated. Hedrock began at once. He drew out of his pocket the slip of paper that had Kershaw’s last known address written on it. He handed it to Neelan with the remark, “That’s where we’re heading.”

  Neelan took the paper, and read it aloud, “Room 1874, Trellis Minor building—Good God!”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’ve been there three times,” said Neelan. “I found the address in a suitcase my brother kept at the boarding house.”

  Hedrock could almost feel his search coming to a dead stop. Nevertheless, his comment went unerringly to the root of the other’s words, “Three times?” he said.

  “It’s a room,” Neelan said. “Every time I went there the door was locked. The building manager told me the rent had been paid ten years in advance, but that he hadn’t seen anyone there since the contract was signed. That was three years ago.”

  “But you didn’t go in?”

  “No, he wouldn’t let me, and I had no desire to g
et put in jail. And, besides, I don’t think I could have gotten in. The lock was a protected one.”

  Hedrock nodded thoughtfully. He had no intention of letting any lock stop him. But he could appreciate the obstacle that such devices presented to even the most determined men who lacked his facilities.

  There was another thought in his mind. Somewhere along here he would have to drop in at one of his apartments and don his “business” suit. It was desperately important that he protect himself, and yet, so long as the Weapon Shops could trace his movements he dared not slow his pace. In the final issue the half it would take to secure his own safety might make all the difference. Even a ten minute advantage in time could be decisive.

  The risks involved had to be taken.

  They came to where a hundred story building flashed up at them the sign: trellis major building. The wrongness of the name did not immediately strike Hedrock. He was only a few hundred yards above the stupendous structure when he saw the smaller, fifty story , spired monster that was the Trellis Minor Building . The sight jarred his memory. He recalled for the first time that Trellis Major and Minor were two meteors revolving around each other somewhere beyond Mars. The larger was contraterrene matter, the smaller terrene. They were being mined assiduously by a single company; and these massive buildings were but two by-products of the still un-ended treasure that flowed in a steady stream from that) remote region of solar space.

  Hedrock guided the carplane to a roof landing on the smaller building, and the two of them took an elevator down to the eighteenth floor. Hedrock needed only one glance at the outside of room 1874 to realize that it was indeed well protected. The door and its frame were of a steel-strong aluminum alloy.

  The lock was an electronic tube, and there was printing on it which read, “When tampered with, this lock mechanism flashes warnings in the office of the building manager, the local police station, and on all passing patrol planes.”