by Hal Annas
With the doubt came another curious sense to Driscoll: that Jesse was in no way afraid. Slight though he was, he looked strong, and in his eyes burned the light that must have burned in the eyes of martyrs in the past.
In Driscoll’s inner being was a sense that he was committing a grave sin in stalking a supernatural creature. He recalled the words the man had uttered as Vivi approached the spot where he performed miracles:
“Behold! My betrayer!”
Then he had included Boxer and Driscoll: “They have come armed as against a thief.”
The question arose: “If the gods quarrel, what will happen to mortals?”
Then clearer thought came and drove all other out. Sympathy for Jesse, Driscoll concluded, had been induced to confuse his captors. Clear reason told him it was not a matter of dealing with gods; it was a matter of advanced science.
“Jesse!” It was the voice of Boxer. “You will have to sit down and give your word not to try any tricks, or I’m going to plant my fist in your face.”
Jesse remained as though in meditation.
“I don’t think we’ll get anywhere that way,” Driscoll said. “I’d like to know what happened to his shoes.”
“If we work him over,” Boxer suggested, “maybe he’ll tell us.” Driscoll shook his head. “I wouldn’t mind—if he started it. But I don’t want to smack him just yet.”
“I’ve done a lot of things I didn’t want to do,” Boxer argued. “We’re in a position where we can’t be nice. The guy is dangerous.”
“How do you know he’s any more dangerous than the others?”
“The beings from space?”
“Yes. How do we know he’s not the one holding them in check? How do we know the moment we deliver him they won’t cut loose with something we aren’t expecting? The whole setup is wrong. We’re working in the dark.”
“We have our orders,” Boxer said stubbornly.
“Yes. But how do we know our orders won’t mean the death of mankind?”
“Edward!” It was the voice of Vivi. “Knock the god unconscious! I’m in contact. Something terrible is closing in. Knock him out! Quick! We’re in danger.”
“You’re not in danger,” Driscoll returned. “I’d know.”
Vivi came out of the seat. “You’ve changed again, Edward. Your features aren’t black, but something is wrong. You’re influenced by outside forces.”
“It’s you and Boxer who’re being influenced,” Driscoll maintained. “And there’s no way of knowing it isn’t leading us to disaster.”
Tension mounted in Vivi’s features. “Edward, I know we’re right in cooperating with the beings. Any other course will bring ruin.”
“They shouldn’t keep us in the dark. If we can’t be trusted to know what’s going on, it must be something we wouldn’t like.”
“Edward!”
Driscoll turned to face her. Of one thing he was certain: he didn’t want anything to happen to her, not even the grief that was coming over her now.
The speaker said, “Remain in your seats and buckle your straps.”
Boxer worked round to where he could see Driscoll’s face. Jesse seemed lost in holy meditation.
“Remain in your seats and keep your straps fastened,” the speaker repeated. “We’re coming in for a landing.”
Jesse moved. Slowly he turned his back to the trio, faced the pilot’s compartment, lifted fine hands high.
“Stop that!” Boxer roared.
There was a sudden jolt as though the plane had struck something. Vivi seized Driscoll’s shoulders to keep her balance. Boxer moved forward, hesitated.
Out of the tips of Jesse’s fingers flowed something like rays of sunlight. The plane started a roll, fell off, righted itself.
As Driscoll struggled to remain upright and support Vivi, he saw Jesse turn toward the window and point in that direction. And then Jesse became twins. A second Jesse stepped out of the first, passed through the closed window and vanished from sight as though to go underneath the plane.
The first Jesse turned back toward the trio, slowly, meditatively, as if summoning power from a distant realm. He brought his beautiful hands up, pointed them.
There was hardly an itching, hardly a hint of pain in Driscoll’s neck. It was as though his flesh had been deadened against pain. But he didn’t need the warning nor the stimulus. He launched himself.
It was too late to stop when he realized the truth of what had happened. His shoulder should have struck Jesse at the hips. It should have smashed him against the bulkhead with enough force to drop him unconscious.
Driscoll managed to contract the extensor muscles in his arms a moment before he struck. He passed through the vision where Jesse had stood, crashed against the bulkhead. The shock ran up his arms and into his shoulders before his head struck.
Stunned but conscious, he sat up—saw Jesse standing at the distant end of the cabin.
“The diadem,” he yelled. “Vivi! The diadem!”
Vivi responded, bowing toward Jesse.
And then, as a flash of sunlight, the second Jesse leaped back into the plane through the closed window and merged with the body of the first.
“I think we can handle him now,” Driscoll said, striding toward the man.
Jesse held up a restraining hand. A thousand conflicting thoughts flamed in Driscoll’s mind, caused him to hesitate.
The speaker said, “We ran into rough air at Bolling Field. We’re going to the National Airport. A couple minutes more. Stay in your seats. Keep your straps fastened.”
With grim purpose, Driscoll advanced on Jesse. Halfway there he became aware of dark outlines appearing about him. His breathing became difficult. In reach of an outline, he smashed out with his fist, felt it strike something like an inflated balloon.
Boxer’s grunting told him that he was similarly engaged. Vivi’s gasp and cry of terror brought confusion.
But he didn’t stop. His purpose was unwavering. He drove the outlines before him, eager for the time when he would get one against a bulkhead.
The plane was in smooth flight. Through the windows the ground appeared close.
Grimly Driscoll smashed right and left whenever in reach of an outline. And now the god gave ground, backed toward the washroom.
Vivi’s cry rang in Driscoll’s ears: “Your lighter, Edward! Throw me your lighter.”
He paused long enough to bring out the lighter and toss it in her direction. He didn’t see whether she caught it, but in the moment his eyes were turned in that direction he saw Boxer uncork that terrible twisting right. From experience he knew the power behind it.
Again he faced Jesse, advanced, mouth working. “Monkey up minds, will you?” he growled. “Some sort of mental energy ordinary people don’t know about. We’ll see how your mental energy stands up to a right-cross.”
An outline blocked his passage. He got it against the bulkhead behind the last seat and nailed it with both fists. He could feel the blows going clear through. The outline sagged, vanished. He maneuvered to trap another, but it eluded him, moved toward Boxer and the girl.
His breathing was becoming more and more labored. And the snorting of Boxer and gasping of Vivi told him they were in trouble. But he couldn’t stop.
He nailed another outline against the bar. Then he faced Jesse.
“Now,” he said, “see if you can stop this!”
His short left was followed by a piledriver right.
DRISCOLL reached down and lifted the unconscious god. But no Darklings came to its aid. The Darklings had vanished.
Boxer got one hand on the body. Driscoll watched Vivi reach for Boxer’s other hand. He was dimly aware that her other hand crept into his.
A moment passed. There was something like an overlapping as happens in dreams. The surroundings seemed to fade into other surroundings. There was nothing frightening about it. As in a dream, it seemed natural.
They were in the presence of the gods, exactly as they had, in t
he overlapping moment, stood in the plane.
An aged man, with long white hair, stood before them. He took the unconscious god from Driscoll and Boxer. He passed it to his companions who bore it off.
“You have done well,” the aged god said. “In a moment I will give you the secret of our power, of Creation itself, of the ultimate knowledge. You must resolve now not to keep it to yourself. You must spread it broadcast across your planet. For it will enable you to rid yourselves of the Darklings. They exist solely because they are able to draw power from your minds. You will soon understand.
“Here is the secret of power, of Creation, of knowledge. How you use it will depend upon your mental development. Not all Earthlings will be able to use it. And yet it is comparably simple, so simple it is hidden from the learned and wise and revealed to children.
“The universe is composed of two things. They are energy and a converter. Time is not a thing but a concept. Space is energy because it is part of the universe. Mass is energy at a retarded rate of motion. Everything is energy and energy is motion. The knowledge of how to convert energy into another form of energy or into mass, in its manifold forms, is the knowledge of Creation.
“You already have a glimmer of it. You have accomplished transmutations with uranium, plutonium and other substances. You release energy in dividing the atom and in many other ways. But you have overlooked the natural converters. They are life which convert sunlight, carbon, water and other things. The greatest among these converters is the mind. It has conceived the converters of energy of which you make mechanical use.
“But that is little. Without your realizing its potential, it converts sunlight, water and any form of edible into life and thought and endless ideas, which in turn convert other things. Thus far in life you have done this haphazardly. You could not be trusted with the secret of Creation and knowledge of your potential. But now you must accept.
“Use it wrongly and you will destroy yourself and your planet. Use it well and the whole universe is open to you. For the universe is energy. And you are the converter. The knowledge itself is the first step toward development of your potential.
“Live like gods, for you are not less than us. Rid yourselves of the Darklings, for they are but the superstitions you have brought into reality with your eternal wars and hatred and greed. You cannot sustain a belief, a grief, a desire, a fear, a pain—except that you yourself furnish the energy of it Thus you can destroy yourself or achieve your destiny, as you will.
“Clasp hands. Conceive time as a concept of motion in relation to motion. Conceive the apartment of the woman to be your surroundings. Conceive it first as an overlapping, blending with this, and then . . .”
DRISCOLL looked at Vivi. She was withdrawing her hand from Boxer’s. Her features were pale. The diadem was no longer in her hair.
Boxer coughed, said, “We haven’t eaten since yesterday. Do you still think you could cook something for three?”
Driscoll said, “You’d better call Sam Millbro and tell him to reassure the pilot and co-pilot of that jet. They must’ve got a shock when they entered the cabin and saw we’d vanished. Maybe you’d better make the call outside. You can get something to eat while you’re out.”
Boxer nodded. “Yeah. I should’ve thought of that. Love! Well, it’s a striving toward creation which seems to be the most important thing in the universe. I wonder why we ever thought we were less than gods.”
Driscoll and Vivi watched him draw the door shut as he departed, then turned to each other. Driscoll said, “Food isn’t important. I’m beginning to understand things I never did before. Let’s use our understanding together.”
“Yes,” Vivi breathed. “I don’t know whether I want the power of the gods, but I’m sure we can develop it if we do.”
END
Reckoning from Eternity
Surrounded by violence and intrigue, a frightened girl vowed to do everything in her power to bring peace to the planets. Why, then, was her every act destined to bring more bloodshed and betrayal to those she had loved best?
CHAPTER ONE
THE girl stared hopefully at the spot of radiance shimmering in the blackness between her and the stars. From beside her came a low moan, a feeble stirring. She lowered a hand to the hot forehead, glanced at the luminous dial of the oxygen gauge, and tried to calculate how long the remaining oxygen would keep her alive and keep life in the enfeebled body of the man.
The distant radiance seemed to move. Her heart beat faster and her blue eyes strained to pierce the emptiness of space. The man groaned again. Her long sensitive fingers felt over his features, touched the cracked lips. His breath was hot and coming in short gasps.
To avoid the sight her eyes would meet, she left the light off and began feeling her way through darkness to the distant end of the lifeship. After three steps she paused and slowly lifted her left foot. She stepped over the dead body of the corn-man and, a little farther along, circled to avoid the bodies of the bearded Eg, the three Marines and the senior officer.
She found the water tap. Careful to hold the cup precisely under it so that not a drop would be spilled, she placed a finger over the pinpoint hole above it. The sound made by the faint trickle brought a burning sensation to her dry throat. She opened her mouth and tried to move her swollen tongue, and thought for a moment that she would faint.
The water stopped running. She pressed harder against the tiny hole. After another futile moment she turned and carefully made her way back.
With slow and labored effort she got one hand under the head of the man and brought the cup to his cracked lips. With infinite care she tilted it. He groaned. A few drops of water ran into his mouth. He made convulsive movements with his arms and legs.
Fighting her own faintness, she held the cup out of reach and lowered his head. She switched on the light, eyes avoiding the scene of chaos toward the distant end of the lifeship. Again she lifted the man’s head and poured water between his lips. When the cup was empty she ran a finger around the inside, opened her own parched lips and touched the final drop of moisture to her tongue.
She felt over the bandage on the man’s upper body. The thought came that she might make his breathing easier by loosening it. But she couldn’t take a chance on his wounds opening again. She had to keep life in him somehow. He was the sole remaining link out here with her kind back on Earth.
She got two helmets and placed them nearby, then turned off the light. The time would come, she knew, when they could no longer breathe the nauseous air of death. And there was no way to get rid of the bodies of the men this man had killed. She couldn’t work the mechanism by which men had earlier disposed of bodies. Nor had she strength left to drag them to the tube that would cast them out into cold emptiness.
The dream had vanished; the last ray of hope had gone. It seemed only yesterday that she had been in the arms of Norwich Wyatt and heard him tell her that the refugee ship would take her safely to her people, where he would join her within a month. Few could believe that Earth-was at last to be free of war. But they had to believe or give way to despair.
Now she had been adrift thirty-seven days. None in the lifeship had been able to make her understand exactly what had happened. All she knew was that the refugee ship had been attacked, driven deep into space and finally destroyed. The confusion, the killing, the horror of the merciless fighting, had cast a shadow of unreality over the events.
Thirteen men and three women had got off in this lifeship. At first there had been order, but after days passed and then weeks, with the corn-man sending out a distress signal, futilely, hopelessly, and with no rescue in sight, and food and water running low, the men had fought. They quarreled over little things. A man who ate more than his share was killed by two others and shoved into the tube. A woman giving her favors to the man who did the rationing was discovered getting more than her share of the water. Both died violently and the senior officer appointed another to dispense the water and food.
The mutiny ended with three more men and one woman dead. No more violence resulted for twelve days. But these were not the disciplined men of a warship. They were the nerve cases, the wrecks of the war, and the end was inevitable.
Aleta had favored none. But the man she was now trying to keep alive had defended her during the mutiny and again when the final fighting broke out. He had defended her well, and all but the last spark had gone out of him in the effort.
About him she knew only that he had fought in the war and been disabled. His features and upper body were mostly scar tissue. This made it difficult to guess his age, but the vigor with which he had fought here in the lifeship indicated he was under thirty-five. She hadn’t known that he had an artificial left leg until it became necessary to remove most of his clothes to get to his wounds.
Again she glanced out at the shimmering radiance. It seems larger, nearer. She went to the instrument panel and set the dial to lower the temperature from fifty to forty degrees fahrenheit, this to keep the dead bodies from decaying too fast. She pressed the button marked Flare. She placed more covering over the feverish body of the man-
She thought of Norwich Wyatt and their plans. Peace, he had told her, was being negotiated with the rebellious colonies in the SYZ System. That meant that he and she could at last go out to the green planet, near the edge of the galaxy, which resembled Earth in almost every respect except that it had never known war. They would be married and rear children in peace.
Now the hope for happiness had vanished. But she had always been healthy and vigorous and the throb of life in her body would not cease. Five feet ten inches tall, willowy, blonde, freckled, she was a picture of vitality, but the light in the depths of her blue eyes had dimmed.
