Chapter 8 of Doomsday Eve, by Robert Moore Williams. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Doomsday Eve. Chapter 8. "'Is the center in here?' Zen asked. "'Of course,' Nedra answered. "'But why haven't Cal and his buddies found it?' "'They don't even know we exist,' Nedra explained. And if they did, for some reason, they wouldn't like to come into the tunnels.' "'In effect, the tunnel is wired,' West said. "'Do you mean they would get a jolt of high-voltage electricity if they ventured in here?' "'Nothing as crude as that,' the craggy man replied. However, at two places, high-frequency generators are built into the walls and hidden in such a manner that a person entering the tunnel is saturated with their vibrations, which trigger the adrenals in his body. The result of this is that he suddenly feels very much afraid.' "'Eh?' Zen said, startled. "'A fear-generator?' "'In effect, it is that. "'But that would be a very powerful weapon.' "'Yes, it would,' the craggy man said, his voice dry. "'If you could generate such radiations in sufficient intensity and cover a large enough area with them, you could panic a division, perhaps even an army.' Excitement was in Zen's voice. He knew that the scientists were desperately searching for a new weapon that might possibly end the war, perhaps here was such a weapon.' "'It might work that way,' West admitted. "'Does the government know about this?' "'I believe not. Who invented it?' "'I believe Jail Jonner is generally credited with being the inventor,' West said. "'Oh,' Zen answered, and was silent. Jonner's name had become a legend of the days when there were giants in the earth, mighty men whose thinking had gone beyond the concept of nations to envision one race, beyond the creeds of churches to see one faith, and beyond the dogma of economics to state that as long as one hungry man existed on the face of the earth, no man with a full dinner in front of him was free to eat his meal in peace and safety. Jonner's thinking had also gone beyond one planet to see one solar system, and beyond that, one universe. "'Here is the first generator,' West said. He flicked the beam of his flashlight against the walls. Of course there isn't anything to see, but you may feel something.' As the intelligence agent moved forward, a sudden surge of fear came boiling up from his middle. It was a wild emotion, and it carried with it a blasting sense of great peril, of death. Instantly thoughts flashed through his mind of the first time he had ever been under shell fire, the scream of artillery shells, the blasts of the explosions, the shaking of the earth. As the surge of fear shot upward from his middle, he felt his body jerk and start to tremble. "'Run!' a voice screamed inside him. Get away from here! Run for your life!' He caught the impulse to flee, held it in check. It was like trying to hold back a tidal wave. "'This is an interesting effect,' he said. Does the generator have the same effect on all people?' West grunted and walked ahead without answering the question. Xen thought that the grunt had an approving tone. Nedr squeezed his arm, but said nothing. The craggy man did not point out the second generator, but Xen felt the radiations hit him, stronger than before. He was mentally prepared this time, but his body wasn't. He felt his muscles tie themselves into knots. The impulse to run was a screaming allulation of mad wolf intensity pouring into his consciousness. Xen kept on walking. As abruptly as he had entered it, he was out of the radiation zone. Up ahead of him, West did not grunt or change his pace. Except for Nedr's fingers digging into his arm, Xen had no indication that either felt the radiation.  Xen wondered as he wiped sweat off his forehead. Ahead, West grunted and played his light on the side wall. The craggy man grunted again. On the right the side wall began to swing back as a door opened there. From the tunnel the wall looked like solid stone, but as the door opened the back was seen to be made of metal. A lighted tunnel leading to a large gallery lay beyond. "'Enter,' West said. "'Who did all of this?' Xen inquired. Jal Jonar took over the title to this old mine. He and his men sealed off the deeper tunnels, enlarged them, provided an air supply, built laboratories and living quarters, and made a comfortable, hidden world here. Xen felt he should have known better than to ask. According to these people, Jal Jonar had done everything except lay the foundations of the world. "'I see,' the Colonel said. He did all this before he died.' None of the reports he had read had mentioned this activity, or had even hinted at it, but he did not see fit to mention this. "'No,' West denied. "'But you just said,' he did it after he died,' the craggy man explained. "'Huh?' Xen said. "'Pardon me, but I did not seem to hear you clearly. "'I thought you said he did this after he died.' "'That's what I said? That's what he did.' The craggy man's voice was calm. "'I... uh.'" Xen hastily changed his mind about the words he was about to use. Secretly, he was wondering if West was hopelessly insane. How could a dead man build anything? You understand that I am not too familiar with what actually happened. Sorry in all that, but I simply haven't had to learn. I understand, West said. You don't need to apologize. You will learn here." "'Good,' Xen said. He doubted if he felt better because his explanation had been accepted. West's last words had an ominous ring to them. "'Your lack of familiarity with Johnner's history is very obvious,' West continued. "'But if he was dead... He didn't die,' West patiently explained. He was buried. A handsome monument was erected over his grave, but he wasn't in the grave. "'Son of a gun,' Xen said. "'Why all the falder all?' "'To deceive curious intelligence agents,' West said, with no humor in his voice. Xen ignored the ironic threat. He was inside. This was what mattered. Also the idea of one of the world's foremost scientists, and Johnner had been exactly that, hiding himself away here where he could work undisturbed with others who shared his dream intrigued him. Or had that dream been a grim prognostication of the way things were to be on the surface of the third planet out from the sun? Had the work here been an effort to escape that future? Was this underground cavern really a modern ark, dug into the heart of a mountain, so that at least a few humans might escape the deluge by fire? Had a modern Noah appeared and not been recognized?' The thought shocked Kurt Xen. Somewhere he had read a prediction that earth would be destroyed by fire. Here was evidence that possibly at least one human being had taken that prediction seriously enough to build a bomb and radiation-proof shelter. "'You seem to be thinking seriously,' West observed. "'Perhaps for the first time in my life I am doing exactly that. My brain seems to be trying to spin.' "'Ah? Are you surprised at what you find here?' "'No. That is not much. Mostly I'm pleased.' "'Good!' West seemed satisfied. Here comes John to greet us. The craggy man's face lit up as a tall youth emerged from an adjoining tunnel and came forward to meet them. His greeting to West had respect in it. He merely glanced at Xen, but it was the nurse who commanded and held his interest. "'Nedra, you're back!' "'Of course I'm back, John.' As if this were the most natural thing to do, Nedra allowed herself to be taken in John's arms. West smiled benevolently at the two. Xen carefully looked in the other direction. "'This is Colonel Kurt Xen, John,' West said, when the two had finished kissing. The tall youth extended his hand and said he was glad to meet Kurt. His face was brown, his cheeks were lean and slightly hollow, but his eyes were clear and his grip was firm without being bone-crushing. "'I imagine Kurt is rather tired,' West said. "'If you would find quarters for him, John?' "'Glad to do it,' the tall youth said. "'Come with me, Kurt.' Xen nodded good night to Nedra and to West and followed John away. He was tired down to the bottom of his thick-soled boots. Fatigue lay in layers through his muscles and along his nerve trunks. He knew he was keeping himself from collapsing only by an effort of will. "'I'll give you my room,' John said. "'I couldn't think of depriving you of your quarters, old fellow,' Xen protested. "'It's no deprivation. Besides, I'll be with Nedra.' "'Um,' Xen said. The jealousy he felt almost made him forget how tired he was. "'The room is as bare as the cell of a monk. The bed was a double-decker with a top deck covered with books. It was handmade of rough pine posts and the spring's records. There was no mattress and no pillow. A reading-lamp was at the head. "'Hope you're comfortable here,' the tall youth said. "'Is there anything I can get for you?' "'Nothing. But you might show me the little boy's room.' "'Are you still on that level?' The tall youth seemed genuinely surprised. "'Yes,' Xen said. Then, as the implications back of the question caught him. "'Aren't you on the same level?  Embarrassment reddened his face. "'But you're older than I am, and I thought perhaps you—' His voice trailed off into silence as his embarrassment grew. "'You thought what?' Xen continued. "'Well, that—' The youth became flustered. Then seemed to become irritated with himself for being flustered. Then for being irritated. Xen watched the emotional reaction build higher and higher. He could see no possible importance in the emotional response of the tall kid, except that the kid had intimated that he might be spending the night with Nedra. Would people who didn't use toilets spend nights together? If they did, what would they do? Talk about the beauties of flowers and read poetry to each other?' Xen sniffed silently to himself to show his contempt for such antics. "'I'll show you where to go,' John said suddenly. Xen followed the tall youth out of the room and into a short tunnel which led to a large gallery. Here the old-time miners had found a sizeable body of ore. The gallery had been cleared of refuse and a number of small rooms had been dug into the walls, the whole place being illumined by a fluorescent paint that covered the walls. The color of the light was a misty blue, and the whole big gallery seemed to float in this light, creating an effect that was breathtakingly beautiful. In the first room they passed a naked young woman who was going through gymnastic exercises in time to slow music. At the sight of her light brown body bending and swaying in time to slow music, Xen whistled appreciatively through his teeth. She was almost enough to make him forget Nedra. In another room a fat youth was reading a book. He was lying flat on the floor. In a third a skinny young man with skin the color of old ivory was sitting cross-legged before a shrine. His features were as immobile as a statue of Buddha. The same faint smile seemed painted on his face. In another room a beautiful young woman was undressing preparatory to retiring. She hadn't bothered to close the door.  A glorified whorehouse? Xen blurted out. A whorehouse? What's that? John asked. His manner made Xen feel like apologizing for having used such words in his presence. Never mind, I withdraw the question. Who keeps tab on where the boys and the girls spend the night? No one, John answered, astonished. Is somebody supposed to? He was startled at the idea.  You are also new here. Sex is no problem here, as you will learn. No problem? Don't you engage in it? We have other and more important things to do, John answered. His words were lofty, but his tone was kind. Xen heard the words, but he filed mental reservations about accepting their meaning. Silently, he wondered if these kids had all their marbles. Apparently, they had not even learned about the birds and the bees. Anything else I can tell you? John asked. You've already told me too much, Xen answered. I'm afraid to ask you any more questions. The toilet had no flush plumbing. After use, pressed the button, a sign above it said. Xen did just that. No sound of running water followed, but the Colonel had the dim impression that intensely bright light had flared for a moment. He did not have the courage to look and see what had happened. In some ways, this toilet, which disposed of its contents in a flash of light, was more significant and possibly more productive of concern than Cusso's blooper or Cusso's lieutenant had been. If the new people found it convenient to disintegrate their sewage, rather than dispose of it by the conventional method, what else could they do? Xen shook his head to indicate to himself how amazed he was. John thought he wanted more information and started to ask a question, which the Colonel hastily interrupted. Don't tell me any more. There are limits to what my liver and lights will stand. What heavier liver and lights to do with this? Nothing at all. That was just a figure of speech. As they returned through the gallery, he saw that the bronze girl was still going through her rhythmic dance in time to the slow music.  If he was going to live in this place very long, they would have to make some new rules. How could any human being stay in bed alone when that beautiful bronze creature was going through her swaying dance? What is she doing, learning to be a striptease dancer? He asked. Perfect musketer control. This is one of the exercises we all learn, John answered. What's a striptease dancer? Nothing you ever heard of, Xen answered. But while she is developing her musketer control, what is she doing to the endocrinal system of every male in the place? Not a thing, John said, astonished again. Xen had grave doubts that the tall youth knew what he was talking about. John selected a single book from the top of the double-decker bed and anxiously inquired if there was anything more he could do to make the Colonel comfortable for the night. Upon being told there was not, he departed with the book. Xen thought of the book benignly. If the tall youth was going to spend the night with Nedra, at least there would be a book between them. He slid off his heavy pack and set the Lieutenant's submachine gun where he could reach it readily. His counter told him there was no radioactivity present. Books were in a niche in the stone wall behind the bed. The author of one caught his eye. Jal Jonner. The name was enough to hold his attention. Jonner was known to have written books, but few had survived. Even the Library of Congress did not have them, but there was no Library of Congress in any sense of the word any more. When Washington had left the planet, the Library had gone with it. Glancing at the introduction, Xen forgot all about his fatigue and where he was. One glance at the words and he knew he was in contact with the living waters of life itself. In the beginning I am going to make an inaccurate statement. I am going to say that the reading of this book may open a new life for you. Now let me explain why this statement is inaccurate. In the first place it is inaccurate because this is not the start of your life. That took place millions of years ago, more millions of years than I care to mention here. So your life did not start with the reading of these words. Now as to the use of the word new. This also is inaccurate. To you the ideas expressed here may seem novel and new, but they are not new in the sense that they have just been created, or even that I have created them. They were implicit in the formation of the first molecule of protoplasm that came into existence on this planet. They are therefore as old as life. The pattern which you may or may not follow was laid down in the first molecule of protoplasm which appeared on this planet as the Law of Growth. However, there is no law which requires that one species on this planet, or even all combined species, the total life spectrum here, shall survive to grow to full stature. The possibility of growth is implicit in every form of life. It is latent and capable of development in every species. However, the species that fails to take advantage of the opportunity thus offered, if it fails to develop its potential, must inevitably give Earth room to the species which is developing. In their day the dinosaurs ruled the planet. They had their chance, but they failed to develop. Where now are the dinosaurs? The law is grow or die. This law also applies to man. This book may be regarded as a primer, a starting point of your adventure into the coming development of man. It is the first textbook that you will receive. It is the beginning of the way. How much progress you make upon the way, how well you master the Law of Growth, is in large measure up to you. You will receive assistance, sometimes without your knowledge, but it will not be the kind of assistance that will retard or weaken your development. The new people will not be helped too much. Strength is required of them, and strength is only achieved by overcoming obstacles. The next upward step that the race takes, if it survives its own self-destructive impulses, will be of such a nature as to require the utmost in strength and courage from those who participate in it. This step, it is fair to state, is in the direction of a higher development of consciousness.  Jal Jonar, The Big Sur, July 1971 Written in 1971, the book was now 49 years old, Sen decided, after a rapid calculation. The war had started in 2009. The time was now 2020. Eagerly he turned to the first chapter. It seemed to him that his life was just beginning, that everything that had ever happened to him and all that he had ever done was in preparation for this moment, when life would begin. After reading two pages, he reached the conclusion that, if this was a primer, the text that was to follow must be difficult indeed. The book started with mathematics that was twice as difficult as calculus. Going to concentrate, he found the symbols blurring before his eyes. Then as fatigue finally overwhelmed him, the whole page blurred and was gone. He was asleep. But he wasn't really asleep. The body slept. But he was not the body. He was the consciousness that animated the body. This never slept. He awakened at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. CHAPTER IX Coming back to conscious awareness, Kurt Zenn simultaneously realized that something which he had been experiencing, and which had been very important, faded out of his memory like a gray ghost sliding silently away into a pearl-colored mist. Nedra was shaking him by the shoulder and was smiling down at him. Wake up, sleepyhead! You've been snoozing for eighteen hours!  Her face was radiant and alive. She looked as if she had just stepped out of a cold shower and had rubbed her beautiful body with a rough towel to bring the blood close to the surface of the skin. You look wonderful, Zenn muttered, remembering what John had hinted. Did you have a good night's sleep? A couple of hours. No more than that? I needed no more. Hmm! Zenn said. He started to add another word, alone, but managed to catch the question before it was out of his mouth. He examined her thoughtfully. You look very contented, he said, without adding that in his experience women who look so contented had only one reason for it. Why shouldn't I look contented? After spending so much time in the wilderness I'm back on the stairway to heaven. What's the wilderness? The world down below. She swept her hand in a gesture that included the unseen ranges and the plains below. Ah, yes. He yawned himself to wakefulness. I was reading the most fascinating book before I dropped off to sleep. Here I'll show you. The book was not on his blanket. It was not in the wall-nitch, nor was it behind the bed. Hey, it's gone, he said. His eyes went around the room. He discovered other things that were missing. The lieutenant's gun and my pack. Perhaps you just dreamed you had been reading a book. I didn't dream the gun and the pack. I carry both of them in here. I can explain about them, but they were taken. Huh? Why? Weapons are not permitted here. Your gun and your pack were both taken for this reason. Huh? A growl came unbidden into his voice. He put these items out of his mind with the resolve to speak to someone about them at a later time. Something more important had happened. What was it? A memory of his dream flicked through his mind but was gone before he could grasp it. A frown on his face, he said, I know. As he tried to speak, what he had intended to say slid out of his mind. You know what, Nedra asked. Everything. Her face showed surprise. This is a great deal for one man to know. Are you sure? Yes. Positive?   Well, in that case, tell me things. I would, except I can't remember them. Doubt came into the violet eyes. What you need is some breakfast.  Breakfast will take care of that. Her voice was firm and sure. That's one thing I need, said Zend said, his voice equally firm. But there is one thing I don't need. An examination by a hedge shrinker. A what? A psycho, he explained.  Oh, maybe I need such an examination but I have no intention of submitting to it. Breakfast consisted of cornmeal mush fried to a golden brown and served with butter and honey. There was no coffee but he had long since learned to do without it. He ate ravenously. I'm hungry right down to the marrow of my bones, he said. Where does all this grub come from? We get it, Nedra answered evasively. What do you do, raid the low country for supplies, like Cusso's men? No, Colonel, hardly that. We are not thieves. Her face showed displeasure. Well, where do you get it? I don't know how many of you are here but if you have as many as a hundred, keeping this place supplied calls for some doing. He was fishing for information on the number of people hidden in this old mine. Actually very little food is needed. How come, don't they eat? Are you reading my mind? The girl demanded. If so, you might as well learn right now that this is not considered good manners here. Momentarily, she was angry, and besides, if you do it again, I'll close off my thoughts to you. Zen, with a forkful of mush halfway to his mouth, was so surprised that he tried to speak and to swallow the mush at the same time, with the result that he choked. The inference back of her words opened up wide horizons of speculative thought. Is mine reading actually commonplace here? I'm sorry you choked," Netra said. She pounded him on the back. Why don't you put me over your shoulder and burp me?" Zen complained, lay off with that pounding. Do you feel you really need burping? Ah, shut up," Zen answered. If she thought he had read her mind, did this mean that she was actually capable of reading his thoughts? Could all of these people read his mind? Had the nude bronze girl going through the rhythmic exercises known what he was thinking about her? Zen felt himself colouring. It was one thing to have the normal lebidness impulses of the male, but it was quite another thing to have every woman know what he was thinking about her. Colonel, I do believe you are blushing," Netra said, a twinkle in her eyes. I am not," Zen said. Actually I was wondering. Whether or not I could read your mind? I told you it was not good manners here. Good manners or not, you seem to know what I was thinking. It isn't necessary to read your mind to know what you are thinking if a pretty woman is concerned," Netra said, primly. Your thoughts are written on your face. Ah! For a moment his confusion grew. Her understanding was much too acute. Was she playing games, making fun? If so, this was a game that two could play. In that case, since you already know about me, how about it? He said, looking boldly at her. She understood his meaning. For a moment the violet eyes showed sadness. They seemed to indicate that she was disappointed in him, that she had hoped for much better from him. Then a sparkle came into them. I told you once before. Yeah, I know.  But let's not do it right now. I'm still hungry. You are one of the most perplexing men I have ever met," Netra said, as she rose to fill his plate again. Also one of the fastest. I thought you were going to stay away from that subject, he protested. I intended to say fastest on his mental feet," she answered.  After that, Sam wants to see you. Sam, huh? He said, with no real enthusiasm in his voice. Somehow, this morning, he did not relish seeing the craggy man. But there was the matter of the missing pack and gun to be taken up with someone in authority. He suspected that West was that person. The craggy man was alone in the room to which Netra took him when he had finished breakfast. West was standing with his back to them as they entered, staring out of a picture window that was set flush with the wall of the building. Turning he nodded to them, then motioned to them to come and stand beside him. Kurt Zen looked out on one of the most breathtakingly beautiful scenes he had ever seen. Directly below them the cliff dropped away for hundreds of feet, a blank wall of sheer rock. Through the left climbing up into the sky was the peak of the mountain, solid granite. They were just to the edge of Timberline here. Lower the trees began, spruce, fir, and aspen, marching downward, tier on tier, over a series of rolling hills that concealed more than they revealed. In the distance was the front range, a towering sweep of mountains that looked small but which Zen knew to be rugged country. He had climbed them too recently to have any doubts as to how high they were and how rugged. In the far distance cumulus clouds were visible, thunderstorms beyond the mountains. Thy purple mountain's majesty above the fruited plain. The words of the song came unbidden into Kurt's mind. Down below him was America, or what was left of it. A pain came up in his throat at the thought and he felt muscles pull and nod in his stomach. He had loved this land. America had stood for freedom. Her sons had fought for it on battlefields in every corner of the earth, from sun-baked equatorial Africa to the freezing bitter steps of Central Asia. While her sons had found graves fighting for freedom, something had happened to the freedom for which they fought. Nobody knew quite what had happened but it had gone away. Sadly it had been lost as emergency followed emergency on the international scene. Possibly it had been strangled in red tape, as regulation followed regulation on the national scene. The time had come in America too, as it had come to foreign lands when all actions that were not compulsory were forbidden. Thus freedom had died. Do you feel as bad as all that, Colonel? West said softly. The man's face was grave and each ridge on it seemed carved out of another and harder kind of granite. "'It seems such a shame,' Zan said. "'I loved this land. It was my country. And I don't feel that I have to apologize for a gulp in my tongue as I talk about it.' "'It is not necessary to apologize for loving one's own land, Colonel.' West said, his voice softer still. "'You are not alone.' "'Not alone,' Zan said. "'From you this talk sounds strange.' "'We have all loved this land too, Colonel, and the principles for which it stood. That is why we are here.' West's voice became softer still, but the gravity in his face seemed to increase. "'That is good talk,' Zan said. "'However, if I have learned one thing, it is that talk is cheap.  He felt his voice great as he spoke. "'Bravely spoken, Colonel,' West applauded. A glint that might have been appreciation and might have been the edge of hidden anger showed in his eyes. "'Particularly so, since you are in the power of these—ah, outlaws.' "'You are very brave,' Nedra agreed, and very foolish. "'You did not bring me here to tell me that I am in your power,' Zan answered, nor to comment on my bravery, nor my foolishness.' "'I think he can read minds,' Nedra said. "'I do not in the least doubt it,' West answered. "'If he did not possess this ability, or almost possess it, he would not be here.' "'I, in my term, think both of you are nuts,' Zan answered. "'I'm not putting on a mind-reading act.' "'Not consciously, Colonel, of course,' West agreed. "'You think your thoughts are your own? Often they are. But there are also times when they have originated with somebody else. However, before you tell me that I did not call you up here to discuss your mind-reading ability, or lack of it, I will show you one reason why I wanted you. Take the glasses. Observe the ridge in the far distance, just under the pines. Tell me what you see there.' "'Horses,' Zan said. "'No, mules, with riders.' "'Coussos men are going out on a raiding-party looking for food, ammo, and women, if they can catch them.'" "'Right, Colonel, except that they probably have the additional duty of inspecting the damage their blooper did when it exploded.' "'I hope they inspect that damage from close range,' Zan said fervently. That area is hot. If they will only spin an hour or so.' He broke off as he remembered that both Nedra and West had spent too much time in the same hot zone. "'They will not be that foolish,' West said. "'I know some people who were,' Zan said. "'Perhaps the area, at least on the fringes, was not as hot as you had thought,' West suggested. "'My counter said it was,' Zan answered. "'Possibly your counter was an error. Now, if you will come into this room, Colonel.' West moved through an archway in the stone wall and into another room, holding the heavy draperies aside so Zan and Nedra could enter. An opaque screen was set into the wall. Several chairs, including one large seat with control buttons built into the arms were in this room. West closed the curtain over the arch through which they had entered and motioned Zan to a chair. The craggy man slid into the chair with the buttons on the arms. Nedra sat beside Zan. Relaxed and at ease in the chair, she seemed to have forgotten that such creatures as kernels of intelligence existed. West pushed a button. Light flicked across the screen, danced in erratic pattern there, and vanished. An image began to form. Firming it increased in detail and became a city. Or what had once been a city? The place was blackened now, the buildings lying in ruins. Towers had toppled, windows had broken, the ravages of fire were visible. Here and there tall buildings had crumbled into streets that crossed and crisscrossed each other at crazy angles. The rubble from the broken buildings still lay where it had fallen. Washington by thunder, Zan said. This was their prime target. We stopped their bombers cold but they eventually got through with a guided missile. The city is still hot. You can see it right there on the screen. Not a sign of life. He became excited as he relived those first mad moments when the Asian Federation had struck out of nowhere. In this moment what little freedom that had remained in America had been given up in the face of the seemingly more important necessity of remaining alive. Yes, West said. Now what do you see? The ruined Washington faded from the scene. As it faded, the broken dome of the Capitol building, its top had been blown off in the blast, was revealed looking like a mysterious crater on the moon open to the sea of space. Another city came on the screen. A mass of broken buildings where two rivers met. I think that's Pittsburgh, Zan said. They were eager to hit us there, to cut down on our industrial production potential. They got Gary Indiana and South Chicago for the same reason. In spite of everything we could do to stop it, they eventually got through to our major production centers. If we hadn't foreseen the possibility of this happening and had not spread our industry across the country, breaking it up into small parts, they would have crippled us so badly before the war even started that we would not have lasted long. However, even with our production spread, when they hit the sources of our raw materials they hurt us bad. Our stockpiles gave out after a couple of years. Since then we've been scavenging for metal wherever we can find it. Yes, I know, West said. Of course, while they were hurting us, we weren't exactly helping them, Zan said. We had a few guided missiles ready in their launching racks ourselves. We weren't exactly defenseless. Pride came into his voice as he spoke. I agree with you there, West said. Would you like to see some of our results?  Our photoships have never gotten really good pics, have to fly too high for that.  But how does this radar work? Do you mean to tell me you can actually see what is going on inside the country of the enemy? Puzzled wonder crept into his voice. Behind the feeling was a keen interest. If he could use this radar to see into the country of the enemy, it was a very important invention. Though West did not seem to realize this. In war information was always as important as weapons and sometimes more so. Knowledge of the enemy's troop dispositions, of his strength and his weaknesses, was often more than half the battle. West did not answer. Another city swam into position on the screen. Zan caught a glimpse of a single minaret standing among the bear ruins and hazarded a guess as to the identity of the city. Moscow? Yes. Good. One of our fast planes sneaked over in full daylight, dumping his load. When the photo plane passed over hours later, the city was still burning.  You sound pleased, Colonel. Do you know how many millions of people died directly or indirectly in that bomb explosion? How many millions died in Washington, Pittsburgh and Chicago? Zan flared. Granted, West answered. But after the first man was killed, does it help the situation to kill a second? Or does killing the second one merely make it more likely that a third one will have to be destroyed?  This is war. That is also granted. However, the rules of life do not change because men declare war.  They were striking at our heart. Zan said bitterness deep in his voice. Look, we didn't seek this war. We did everything we could to prevent it. We tried compromise, arbitration, placation and everything else we could think of. Nothing worked. They struck in the dark without warning. As he spoke, his bitterness turned into deep anger. That is also granted, West said, while the ruined city was displayed on the screen. But does it make a great deal of difference? Zan stared at the man, wondering what kind of a human he was. In the dim room it was difficult to make out West's features. It makes all the difference in the world. We believe in fairness. They ignored it. We believed in a better world. They would plunge us back into the night of barbarism. We believed in freedom. They wanted slaves. They set up a slave state and threw armed slaves against free men. We had no choice except to fight back. I see nothing to argue in all you have said, West answered. Nor is it to my purpose to attempt to justify the actions of the Western democracies. They need no justification. Nor do the actions of the Asian Federation need justification. In their eyes they were right. His voice was a low monotone of sound without the trace of an emotion in it. Then what is your purpose? Zan demanded. First, to point out that the human race is one organism. Viewed in its totality, it is just that, an organism. All the billions of individuals who compose it are cells in that organism. I am familiar with that theory, Zan answered. A few crackpots have always insisted that we are a biological entity, but they have not succeeded in proving this. Haven't they? West said. The slightest touch of irony appeared in his voice. Not as far as I know. Is it possible, Colonel, that you do not know everything? West asked. It is not only possible, it is obvious, Zan answered, unruffled by the cutting question. If I knew everything, I would be sitting here talking to you. I would be out there winning a war. The point I want to make, Colonel, is that the human race is divided against itself. Historically, this has been going on since remote ages. War after war after war. I do not see how America is responsible for the errors of history, Zan said. We try to avoid them. God knows we tried. Emphasis crept into his voice. I did not say these were errors, Colonel. West replied. I merely said they were history. But what point are you making if not the one that wars are mistakes? Zan asked, surprised at the way the others' thinking had gone. I am making the point that war seems to be the way the entity, the human race as a whole, evolves. The method of evolution revealed by history is the pitting of one part of the entity against another part, then letting them fight it out to see which one is the more efficient. A touch of grimness sounded in the voice of the craggy man. In the dimly-lighted room, his face was as bleak and as lonely as the granite outcropping at the top of a mountain. This is a very savage philosophy, Kurt Zan commented. If I may disagree with you again, Colonel, I do not think that this philosophy is necessarily savage. True, a great many men die in fiendishly ingenious ways. A great many women and children suffer. True, this system produces hunger in the world, and a fear so deep and so intense that the heart is hurt even to contemplate it. How can this be anything but savage? Zan protested. I don't care whether our side or the other side is doing it, it's still total savagery, utter barbarism. But that is a short-term view, and one which does not take into consideration all the factors in the equation. What is the purpose back of this savagery, if it is not to force men to learn and to grow? What of this so-called savagery is also the result of ignorance, of an entity trying desperately to learn how to solve a problem but never quite succeeding? But surely there must be some way which does not involve so much suffering, Zan protested. He was growing more and more uncomfortable. It was his impression that he was shifting sides in the argument without quite realizing he was doing it. Or perhaps West was the one who was shifting sides. This side-changing was producing confusion in his thinking. I have harbored the same hope, West answered. However, I know of no way to accomplish this result. In a human being we have a growing, evolving organism that is possessed of a keen brain and a vast curiosity. Such an organism, by its very nature, will have to try every possible road. West pressed a button. Then the screen came to life. Dim and shadowy, human figures began to move there. Kurt Zan leaned forward to see them more clearly. End of chapter 9 CHAPTER X CHAPTER X At first the figures were indistinct and Zan could not see them clearly. He mentioned this to West. They will get sharper in a minute, the craggy man answered. His voice had sunk to a whisper heard from afar. Zan glanced at him to make certain he was still there. The Colonel had the flickering impression that the chair was vacant, but before the impression could firm itself, West, faster than the eyes could follow, seemed to be back in the chair. Note the screen now, Kurt, West said. The figures had become clear. It seemed to be a view of some kind of underground cavern, where men were working on an object that looked like... Zan squinted his eyes to make certain. A small spaceship, the Colonel said. He felt eagerness rise in his voice. Like so many kids born in the age of science, he had harbored the dream of the days to come when men would fly beyond the sky, to storied space islands that lay afar. Science had promised that this would happen, and the fiction writers had embellished this belief with dream worlds. Somehow it had never come to pass. One problem after another had prevented realization of this dream. The war, which should have accelerated development, had stopped it completely. Neither side had the materials or the engineers or the skilled technicians to construct a vessel capable of spaceflight. No, West said. His voice was toneless and the faraway note was still strong in it. Sorry to contradict you, Colonel, but that is not a small spaceship, though it is designed to get out of the atmosphere for a short time. Look again. Hell! It's a super-bomb, Zen gasped, as recognition came to him. Right, Colonel? A bomb big enough to devastate a continent. Cold currents suddenly flurried at the base of Zen's spine. Right, Colonel? West's voice was as dry as the Nevada wind. I didn't know we had such a bomb under construction, Zen blurted out. We haven't. Then who? Where? The cold currents at the base of Zen's back were flowing down both legs and up his spine. Look at the men, Colonel. Look closely. West's voice was also cold. They're Asiatics! During the words, Zen was out of his chair. I didn't see the yellow faces and the slanted eyes at first. West, that's a huge guided missile. It's being built to drop out of the sky at thousands of miles an hour on us. Yes, West said. He did not move a muscle in his body. On the other side of Kurt Zen, Nedra sat equally silent and motionless. I have to get out of here, Zen said. This information must be reported to the general staff at once. Urgency pounded in the tones of his voice. The new people do not fight, West said. I thought you were one of us. It doesn't matter who I am, Zen said quickly. The building of this super bomb must be reported. It must be. Extra warnings must be issued. We must alert every Z-type fighter we possess and have them in the air constantly, in the hope that we can destroy this bomb before it lands. We've got to follow the construction hourly, so we will know when it is ready to be launched. And that means we've got to have top flight intelligence men here to follow the building of that bomb every inch of the way. Or we've got to take this super radar of yours to headquarters and use it there. That's the best solution, if it is at all practical. Zen was striding back and forth in the darkened room, planning the steps that had to be taken. West, do you realize this super radar of yours will win the war? Excitement tightened the Colonel's voice. With it, the enemy won't be able to make a move that we don't know about in advance. His excitement grew as the fast longing hidden in him for the end of the war tried to come to the surface. You have tears in your eyes, Colonel. West said.  But he knew the craggy man was speaking the truth. He swallowed harder. We've got the Asians cold. We'll know every move they make in advance. He exalted, as he realized again, how much this meant. I have always known every move they made in advance. West answered. We'll have them on their knees and—huh? What was that you just said? What was that? Desperation appeared in the Colonel's voice. West repeated his words. Then why didn't you warn us? Zen felt each word sting as it left his lips. Why didn't you warn us? Why did you let so many of us die so unnecessarily? West did not answer. The silence in the room grew deeper. Cold had begun to appear in the air. On the screen the silent figures continued busily engaged in the building of their bomb. Don't you realize that your failure to report what you knew was high treason? Zen continued. The silence grew. West sat as solid and as immobile as a mountain. Nedra seemed to have shrunk in upon herself still farther. More than ever she looked like a very small girl who had somehow managed to intrude into a world of adults and was tremendously confused and hurt by what was happening here. Don't you hear me? Zen said. I hear you, West answered.  It is to be expected from a person in your stage of development. However, you seem to have forgotten that I am not a citizen of your country, or perhaps you did not know this. Not a citizen, Zen said. But this mountain exists in America. I don't know whether it is actually on Canadian ground or lies in the United States, but this does not matter. By mutual treaty the countries have become one nation. A citizen of one is automatically a citizen of the other. True Colonel West did not attempt to explain. Then what country do you claim to belong to? Zen felt his voice falter as he tried to grasp what lay back of this very strange man. You talk like an American. I was born here. Then you are a citizen. No. I resigned my citizenship. As to my real country it is a far land. I am sure you have no knowledge of it. My loyalty, Colonel, is not to any nation on the face of the globe, but is to... growth, to the new people who will come into existence one day. As West spoke, the cold that was freezing Zen's spine suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a sudden deep warmth. The words seem to touch some hidden spring of warmth within him. My loyalty is to the future, to the growing tip of the life force, to what the human race will become, not to what it is today. Only the future has meaning, Colonel, and to the building of that future I have dedicated my life. In spite of the fact that the words thrilled him, Zen knew he had to deny them. This is sophistry, he snapped. I think any court in the land would hold it to be evasion of your proper duties. You can't continue living in a country and enjoying its bl... Confusion came into Zen's mind. Were you going to say blessings, Colonel? West said, almost maliciously. Yes. Would you point out these blessings? We had them once, Zen said, and we're going to have them again. Are you? West nodded toward the screen where the far-off enemy technicians and engineers were busy with their super-bomb. Now that we know that it exists, that bomb will never land, Zen said. I'll see to that personally. How are you going to discharge this responsibility? West inquired. I'll find a way, Zen answered. I admire your spirit, Colonel, though not necessarily your evaluation of your personal position at this moment. Also there is one other thing that I want you to see. The screen went blank. Slowly another scene formed on it. Zen, staring, blurted out words. That's another one. They're making two of those super-bombs. I didn't think they had the materials and the technical know-how to make even one. This doubles the problem, and more than doubles the urgency. Colonel will have to guard the skyways from all directions, including straight up. Damn it, West! Zen slapped his fist into his open palm to emphasize his feelings of urgency. Look again, Colonel. The craggy man invited. On second look, Zen saw something that he had missed before. Those are Americans. We're building that bomb. His words were little gusts of explosive sound in the quiet room. Right, West said. His voice was very grim. Then, it's a race to see which side gets its bomb built first, Zen asked. He did not know whether or not he liked what his eyes were seeing and the interpretation his mind was giving him. I am afraid that is true, West reluctantly agreed. But doesn't that change the picture, Colonel? How, Zen demanded. We're going to win a war. We've got to win it. The words were firmly spoken, but somewhere a lingering doubt remained as if some point had not been considered. The other side also thinks it has to win, West pointed out.  We didn't. Man, you don't intend to tell me you're going to sit right here and watch two nations frantically try to destroy each other, and maybe the earth with them, when you have the means to stop it in your hand? Horror exploded in Zen's words. I am going to do just that, West stated. His voice was as firm and as solid as the granite core of a mountain. But you can't, Zen expostulated. Why can't I? West demanded. I am not a citizen of either country, and I owe nothing to any nation. Even if you are not a citizen of either country, you're still a human being. You owe loyalty to your own race, Zen said. The craggy man showed faint signs of discomfort, but when he spoke his voice was still imperturbable.  Stop the Asians, Zen answered properly. Give us complete information on the location of their super-bomb. We'll make certain we get ours finished first, and we'll use it to blow their installation out of existence. At the moment his plan seemed feasible. That would create the very danger you are trying to avoid, would it not? West pointed out. Both super-bombs would explode simultaneously. Do you think the Earth would remain in its orbit if this happened? I don't know, Zen answered. That would be up to the astronomers and the astronomical physicists to decide. In any case, if the danger is too great, we'll use ordinary weapons to touch off their super-bomb. We'll get the job done before they finish. They are working underground, in a cavern at least three thousand feet deep, West pointed out. Do you have a weapon that will penetrate to this depth? We'll build one. You talk very glibly, Colonel. Somebody has got to talk, Zen said fiercely. Even if they are building their bomb underground, they must have an exit for it somewhere, we'll locate their exit and drop an H-bomb on it. And thus destroy their bomb and the rest of their scientists and engineers? This is war, you can't have sympathy in war. This is my point, Colonel West said patiently. I have no sympathy with either side. Then what do you propose, to sit here and do nothing? I propose to let each side destroy the other as much as they wish and can. Then when they have completely demonstrated the futility of their efforts, when it is utterly clear to the few who have survived that warfare is not the way to the future, then the new people will emerge to show the way to those who have survived. West's voice was calm. He seemed to be considering a situation often pondered and to be stating a conclusion firmly and definitely reached. But that involves senseless slaughter, Zen protested. This was the reason that lay back of the dropping of the first atom bomb to stop senseless slaughter. While slaughter is senseless, Colonel, from the viewpoint of the individual or nation doing it, slaughter is generally considered to be right at the time. Zen started to comment on what the craggy man had just said, then changed his mind. Was he dealing with a madman? This seemed possible. West's words certainly did not fit any pattern that Zen knew. The act of sitting by and letting two nations commit suicide went beyond the bounds of rational thinking. I beg you, let me report this to the High Command, Zen said, making one last plea. In reply, I want to ask one question, West answered. What would happen to the people here and to me if I reveal the existence of this instrument? You would be a hero, Zen said promptly, and knew he was lying as he spoke. The people would be protected. I dislike calling you a liar, Colonel, but that is exactly what you are, West answered. We would all be taken care of, as long as all of us did exactly what the High Command wanted. The instant I tried to do anything else, my actions would be called treason and I would be considered a traitor. My equipment would be confiscated for the convenience of the government and I would be lucky if I did not face a firing squad. Tell me honestly, Colonel, would not this happen? For the first time West's words had a tinge of anger in them, or was it sorrow? Sam, Nedra said. Something... Her voice was a whisper from some far-off land. What is it, Nedra? West asked. In an instant he had forgotten all about Kurt Zen. The nurse sat up straight and stiff. All color fled from her face. Something... Her voice was the faintest whisper of sound in this quiet room. Nedra, what is it? West's tones had alarmed them. Instead of answering, the nurse slid from her chair to the floor in a faint. Dimm and distance in the silence that followed came a popping sound. Ratatatatatat. Zen had heard this death-dealing rattle too often to mistake its identity. A submachine gun. The drapes that covered the archway leading into this hidden room were shoved aside. A man fell through them. Zen knew at a glance that he was another of the kids who lived here in this hidden cavern inside a mountain. Blood was spewing from a hole in his back and he was fighting desperately for breath. There, coming with guns, he gasped. West dropped to his knees and took the head of the youth in his lap. His face was dark as he saw the wound on the back. Cuddling the youth's head in his lap as one would a frightened child, he asked, What happened, Carl? I don't know. They came out of nowhere. There was no one. Then these men were here. They came... shooting.  He tried to cough it away and failed.  Then he lifted his hand to his eyes and saw what was there. How many are there? Zen asked. Carl's eyes wandered until he found the source of this question. Dozens! He said, his voice dull.  Cuddling, Zen could distinguish three machine guns going now. Men were yelling, a girl was screaming. At the sounds the colonel's lips formed into a line as sharp as the edge of a knife. How did they get past your fear generators? He said to West. I don't know, the craggy man answered. Perhaps they found an unguarded tunnel. Zen could not see what difference it made how the intruders had secured entry. They were here. Where are your weapons? He demanded. In his mind was the thought that the new people would have weapons adequate to defend their own citadel. Weapons? West did not seem to understand the term. We have none. What? Zen said. Hadn't West understood him? Every farmer, every rancher, and every householder had his stock of weapons, almost all people went armed. No rifles? No. Not even tear gas? No, colonel. Then how in the hell did you expect to stay alive? Zen burst out.  Staying alive is actually not as important as you think. Yes, son. West bent again to listen to the youth's words. Good. Good! The whisper was very faint. West understood. Good-bye, he said. We will meet again. But good-bye for now. The youth sighed. All pain and all fear went from his face. Peace came to him. But when West rose to his feet his face was bleak. He was new here, he said, as if this explains something that he felt needed explaining. Somewhere a woman was screaming. West listened to the sound, then started toward it. Then caught his arm. The invaders have guns. His tone conveyed the impression that West was at fault because no weapons existed inside the mine. Or do you want to go join him? He nodded toward the body on the floor. Blood had stopped spilling from that body now. The essence of life had gone elsewhere and the tides of life had ceased flowing. Yes, West said bluntly. I want to go with him. His face had grown more black. Heat lightning was dancing in his eyes. Zen caught the impulse to say that this made two of them who wanted to join the bronze-skinned youth. He knew how to deal with this reaction. OK, he said. Good-bye. West blinked, startled eyes at him. Run along, Zen said. Eh? I'll take over here and fight the battle you're running from, Zen continued. As if he were dispelling a mist from some hidden corner of his mind, the craggy man shook his head. Sorry, he apologized. However, the call is very strong. Only the sense of a job not yet done has kept me from going for a long time. He shook his head again. No, I shall not follow him for another while, though I am positive that he is luckier than we are. I agree, Zen said. Stooping, West picked up Nedra.  Had she followed the youth? Kurt Zen had a moment of heartbreak as the thought passed through his mind before he saw that she was still breathing regularly. Follow me, West said. The heat lightning still danced in the eyes of the craggy man as he moved across the room. The solid wall swung aside to another hidden door. None of my people know this is here, he explained. The combination lock is actuated only by my body. As Kurt Zen went through the door, he could hear the girl still screaming somewhere. The passage was narrow. To one side, another passage led into a room where Zen caught a glimpse of some kind of electrical equipment in operation, the technical guts of the super radar he suspected. Ahead, West growled, a sound that came from deep in his throat. He had stopped and was staring down into a hidden opening in the wall. Zen saw that the opening, through some hidden arrangement of mirrors, revealed the interior of the big gallery where he had spent the night. Hell was loose in there now.  Each carried a smoking weapon in his hands. A body lay on the floor. Somewhere in one of the small rooms a woman was screaming. In the middle of the room stood the man who was obviously in charge of the situation. At the sight of this man Kurt Zen felt his breath draw into his body so heavily that it whistled through his nostrils. Kuso's Lieutenant. The others in the room were the Asians who had been with the Lieutenant the night before. I should have slit their throats while they were asleep and in my power last night. Zen raged. The only sound in the passage was that of West breathing heavily, like a man who had run a marathon and had lost. No, there were two men. Additional shock came up in Kurt Zen when he realized he was the second man. He seized the craggy man by the shoulder. West, they can't have that super radar. If we lose that, we have lost the war. The craggy man did not move. Anguish grew in Zen's voice. If we lose this one, it will be the first war we have ever lost, and the last one. Nothing will remain to come after us except death and desolation. I know, West said. The race soul will have to start over, in the swamps and on the mud flats, trying to rebuild the race with tools long since worn out and out of place in time. Again the tones of a bell were in his voice, but now the bell was tolling the death of a people, wailing that the glory that once had been was truly gone, wailing that the brave world that some men had tried to build was going into ashes and into doom. Do you believe in the race soul, too? West gasped. Belief is too weak a word. I know it exists. Ned recied in West's arms and opened her eyes. Seeing who was holding her, she lay back in the arms of the craggy man, more than ever like a tired child. What was it? She whispered. What's wrong? I... I took a little nap. West set her on her feet and pointed at the opening. She clutched at the stone wall as she saw what was happening inside. Running the bronze girl who had danced to the slow music the night before came fleeing from a room. One of Cusso's soldiers was pursuing her. She fled like a deer before some great hound that was interested in pulling her down, but she did not flee fast enough. The soldier caught her and dragged her back into a room. West, how many of these kids did you have here? Zen asked. About fifty, the craggy man answered. I don't know how many are left, nor can I guess how many will choose to stay alive if they are conquered before their training is completed. And no weapons? None. What about my gun that was taken from me while I slept? What good would one gun do now? None, I guess, Zen said helplessly. But as they tried to run me down, I'd like to have it in my hands. I'd at least take a few of them with me before they got me. We will survive, West said, his voice a mumble. Zen pointed through the opening to the bodies lying on the floor below them. They didn't, he said. The craggy man groaned. If I had time I would try to explain to you that survival does not lie in the body and can never be achieved there. Zen answered. I have no time for metaphysics. For purposes of defense I'm taking command.  What resources were his to command? What troops? What weapons? He knew the answer as the thaw crossed his mind. If he only had the remnants of the broken column moving down the mountains after its disaster encounter with Kusso's blooper. An idea came into his mind. Perhaps he could have these troops. Where's my pack, he demanded. His radio equipment was in that. It went with your gun into the deep hole, West said. The deep hole is a fault the old miner's uncovered here. It's miles deep. He shook his head. Damn, Kurt Zen said. The depression in him was as deep as the fault in the mountain. Isn't there any place where we can hide? Many places, West said. This whole mountain is a honeycomb of tunnels and shafts. We have explored fifteen separate levels and there are others which lie below the present waterline. We did not protest at Zen's statement that the ladder was taken command but seemed willing to submit to the Colonel's authority and also interested in seeing how Zen would handle the problem. Then find us a place to hide until we can decide what to do to eliminate Kusso's men. A hiding hole first, then radio equipment. As soon as I can gain access to shortwave transmitting equipment I can have a regiment of paratroopers on their way here. You sound as if you have authority, Nedra commented. I have. But you gave me the impression you were a deserter. They haven't discovered that yet at headquarters. As far as they are concerned I'm on a secret mission and I haven't deserted the human race. Zen put sting into his words. The implication was that the two people present were really deserters. Ah, well, Colonel, we shall see about that. West had recovered most of his aplomb. Again he seemed to be observing from a great distance the antics of this strange species called human. But his face remained bleak and his eyes had flickers of lightning in them. He started away from the opening. And stopped as metal clanged ahead of them. A door opened there. An Asian soldier with his rifle at the ready came through. A second one followed the first. The rifles of both covered west. Zen jerked his arms toward the roof. Neither the craggy man nor Nedra moved a muscle. Slowly West and Nedra raised their hands. At gunpoint the two soldiers herded them toward the main gallery. At the sight of them the lieutenant hastily called Cal to him. Is this the one? He demanded, pointing at West. That's him! Cal answered. He's the leader here! He's the one you want! Relation appeared as a shockwave on the yellow face of the Asian lieutenant. Calling two men to him he had West step aside, treating the craggy man with respect that bordered on deference but also with great firmness. You two stand against the wall with the others, he said to Nedra and Kurt Zen. There was no deference in his voice as he spoke to them. If they move, shoot them! He ordered his men. As Kurt and Nedra obeyed, the lieutenant drew West to one side and began a conversation with him. His men were still busy searching the old mine tunnels. Now and then they brought more captives to the main gallery. Cal, Jake, and Ed remained in the center of the big room. Cal was trying to look important but the expression on his face indicated he was hiding guilt-pangs somewhere inside. As soon as he saw Nedra, Ed's eyes became fixed on her though he did not look at her face. Jake's murky eyes were roving the chamber. He did not seem to comprehend what he was seeing but seemed to be living in some other world that was even more confusing and more clouded than this one. The bronze girl, utterly naked, came limping into the gallery from one of the small rooms. She had a dazed expression on her face and she looked around the room as if she could not comprehend what was happening. At the sight of her, the lieutenant left off talking to West for a moment, his eyes glowing. But his conversation with West was more important than his lust. He motioned with his gun for the bronze girl to take her place against the wall. She stared at him as if she did not understand him. He waved the gun again. Some dull comprehension of his meaning penetrated her mind. She stumbled to the wall but fell face downward on the stone floor. Nedra, with a little cry of pity on her lips, moved quickly to the side of the bronze girl. Xen started to move, then stopped. But not because the rifle of one of the guards was swinging up to menace him. Nedra gave a quick examination of the girl, then got slowly to her feet. "'Dead?' Xen said. "'Yes. But how did you know?' Just a hunch. What caused it, shock? I imagine so. After she was violated, she wanted to die. So she really died because she wanted to. I... I... Tears appeared in Nedra's violet eyes and ran down her cheeks. But she did not sob, though muscles moved in her throat. West glanced at the bronze girl. He seemed to know, without being told, what had happened. His face became bleak. The lieutenant regarded the body of the dead girl with regret. When the soldier who had violated her came out of the room, the lieutenant ordered him to remove the body. Xen got the impression that the lieutenant, even though he was talking earnestly with the craggy man, was waiting. Forty of the new people were herded into the room and forced to stand against the walls. Bronze striplings they were. Not a one was out of his twenties, and several were obviously in their teens. Though they were confused, they kept silent. Is this all? Xen heard the lieutenant ask West. The craggy man must have known at a glance the answer to this question, but he took the time to count every person. This is all, he said positively. The lieutenant seemed to believe him, but Xen would have given odds that the man was lying. The lieutenant continued to wait. A guard, entering hastily, saluted. When Xen saw who was following the soldier, he realized why the lieutenant had been waiting. Kuso came into the gallery. The Asian leader was a giant almost seven feet tall and big in proportion. He looked capable of killing a man with his bare hands, and probably was. Just looking at him, Xen knew why he had been selected to lead the airborne landing in America. Using power and strength, he was the type for this kind of mission. Besides power, he radiated something else. Xen sensed this something else as a sickening feeling at the pit of his stomach, a tightening of muscles in the diaphragm. When Kuso appeared, the lieutenant stiffened himself to attention and almost broke his arm saluting. He and Kuso spoke together in a sing-song dialect that Xen did not pretend to understand. As they talked, the lieutenant continued to point at West. A grin broke out on Kuso's face. He beckoned the craggy man to him. The craggy man approached, but did not salute. Prisoners were not permitted to salute. Nor did he get down on his hands and knees, which was not only permitted, but required among the Asians. West stood arrow straight. In spite of his disagreements with him, Xen felt proud of Sam West now. Although Kuso was grinning placatingly but in spite of the grin, West surely knew that he was looking at death, that the slightest show of resistance on his part would have only one result, although Kuso might save him until he had wrung all possible information out of him. Xen did not in the least out that information was what the Asian wanted first. After that there was the tradition of torturing helpless prisoners. I have heard much about you," Kuso said. Foreign Asian he spoke fair English. I am greatly honoured, West answered. However, I am curious as to how you heard about me. A sly grin flitted across the Asians' face. We have our sources of information. Spies, West asked. We have spies, of course, but they could not find out much about you. There are other ways. How do you say it? Clairvoyance, West asked. Yes, that is right. Kuso looked pleased to be given the right word. He also looked startled because he had been given the right fact. Xen, listening, was surprised too. He knew that the suggestion to use Clairvoyance to find out what the enemy was doing had often been made. As an intelligence officer he had investigated several Clairvoyance who had volunteered for this purpose. He knew that such a project had been set up, but he did not know what the results had been, if any. However, to learn that the enemy had not only entertained the same ideas but had used them with some success startled him. I suspected Clairvoyance, West said. Ah! Kuso said. Did you also suspect that the only reason this airborne landing was made on these shores was to capture you? Xen West's perfect control of his features could not hide the start of surprise at these words. I am not that important, he said. Kuso smiled deprecatingly and made a little gesture with his hand which said that such modesty was becoming in the truly great. Oddly, Xen had the impression that the Asian leader meant this. As to that, I have the great privilege of offering you a commission as a field-martial in the armies of United Asia. His voice dripped oil and awe, oil because he was selling, awe because he was truly impressed by the rank of field-martial. Perhaps as a result of the successful achievement of this difficult mission even he might have this rank. Hunger thickened on Kuso's face as he thought of this. West blinked, then smiled back at Kuso. It is interesting. But what makes you think I will be interested in such a commission, or in any commission, in your armies? For protection, for one reason, Kuso answered promptly. Our reports indicate that you are not a citizen of any country. Since this leaves you with no friends to protect you, this is an undesirable position. On the other hand, since you belong to no one, every country feels that you are an enemy. Because of this, your life is constantly in danger. However, holding our commission, you are automatically a citizen of United Asia, and thus are under our protection. Kuso spoke as if being a citizen of United Asia was important, and that holding a commission in its armies was even more so. Do you think I have no friends? West asked. Well, you are not a citizen of. Why do you think I need protection? West continued.  For an instant the wild beast underneath showed through. Perhaps you do not need protection personally, but under the circumstances, as I have outlined them, our mantle would automatically extend to the people working with you.  In this circuit his gaze flicked contemptuously past the corpses lying on the floor. The face of the craggy man got bleak again. He understood only too well what lay back of Kuso's words. I see what you mean, but what do you wish of me? His voice carried an intimation of surrender in the face of odds that he recognized as being hopeless. Zen, with his back to the wall, tried to keep from squirming. Things that were causing actual pain were in his body. Why would the race-mind permit such an outrage as this? The smile on Kuso's face went from ear to ear. Here was victory. Here was the submission of the enemy. Here was what his leaders wanted. Here was a marshal's baton for him. Really, very little.  Milly, that you show us what you have here, and, of course, that you should explain it all to our scientists and engineers, showing them how your equipment operates. The room got very quiet after Kuso had finished speaking. West seemed to muse. What do you think we have here? He said.  Quite true, West agreed.  The time is here to end stupidity, Kuso said. Again, I agree, the craggy man answered. He shrugged. Well, when and where do you want me to start? The smile on his face was a mixture of fear and resignation. It indicated that he had given up completely. Now you are talking the kind of words I like to hear, Kuso said emphatically. You will start now, and show me, personally, everything that is of importance in this mountain. Very well, follow me. West turned and moved toward the opening that led to the chamber where the super radar was hidden. Wait here, Kuso snapped at his lieutenant. Shoot any person who moves. Yes, great one, the lieutenant answered, saluting. This was the kind of order he loved to obey. Kuso and West went out of sight. Jake, Cal, and Ed stood in the middle of the room. Ed approached the lieutenant, nodded toward Nedra, and spoke earnestly to the man.  The pantom grumbled to himself and moved away. Out of the corners of his eyes he kept watching the nurse. Edra ignored him. She also ignored Kurt Zen. As silent as so many statues, the new people stood against the stone walls. They seemed stunned. The impossible had happened to them and they were having difficulty in adjusting to it. John was not in the room. Either he had succeeded in hiding or he had been killed. The fat youth was standing directly across the gallery from Zen. Further down the wall, clad in pants and a bra was a shapely blonde. When he was not watching Nedra, Ed paid attention to her. His actions seemed to irritate the lieutenant. Lifting his rifle, he fired a single shot through the head of the bandit. Ed collapsed, dead, before he hit the floor. Two Asian soldiers carried the body away.  Nedra did not answer him. Her face was pale and her breathing was shallow. A film of sweat glistened on her forehead. Glancing at her, Zen had the impression that she was listening. "'For what?' he wondered. The only thing that was left for any of them was the sounding of the trump of doom. Zen had no illusions that Kuso would keep his promises for any longer than was expedient. First, West and all the others must be pumped dry of information. The whole interior of the mountain must be thoroughly explored. Then more bodies for the deep hole." Zen had no illusions that either West or the new people would long survive the information they could be forced to divulge. As to Kuso's talk of West being given a commission as a marshal of the Asian Federation for protection, the Colonel knew that Asian field-marshalls had been listed among the missing before now. A field-marshall who fell from grace vanished. Across the gallery the fat youth also vanished. One second he was there, the next second he was... gone. CHAPTER XII Neither the Lieutenant nor any of the Asians noticed that a man had vanished. Cal and Jake, with the memory of Ed's death still very fresh in their minds, were engaged in making themselves inconspicuous. As far as Zen could tell, none of these clean, tall kids knew anything out of the ordinary had happened. Beside the Colonel, Nedra seemed slightly more composed. Her eyes were blank as if she were not seeing. The thin film of moisture was still visible on her forehead. Zen started to whisper to her, to ask her if she had noticed anything different, then changed his mind. There was no point in taking such a risk at such a time. A sound was in the room, a thin, high note that was close to the upper limits of hearing. It passed beyond the range of hearing, or diminished in volume, then came again with the frequency of the ears, moving like a microscopically small but very powerful honeybee. Had the sound been present all the time, or had it come into existence just before the fat youth vanished, Zen did not know about the sound. A face appeared in the middle of the room. About ten feet above the floor, it looked around briefly, then vanished. Cal seemed to see it too. A startled expression appeared on the face of the ragged man. His eyes opened wide. He blinked them hastily when the face vanished, then looked furtively around the room. Jake said, very loudly to the face, Hi, bud! Long time no see! Where you been?  Cal snarled at him. But I just saw an old buddy! Jake tried to explain. You saw nothing. What are you two talking about? The Lieutenant demanded. Nothing, Cal answered. He pointed his finger at his forehead and made circling motions in the air, then nodded toward Jake. You know he's a loony Lieutenant. Oh yes, the Asian officer said, as if he had just remembered something. Again he lifted the rifle to his shoulder. Jake fell dead. The Lieutenant slid another cartridge into his rifle. As long as you needed us, Cal began, but I no longer need you to help me find the hidden ones, the Lieutenant answered. That makes things different, doesn't it? It sure does, Cal agreed. But why did you shoot him?  He was too crazy to trust.  That is true, but the place is now found and we are past the odd devices that make weaklings afraid. His tone said that this also made the situation different and that the ragged man had better understand this and guide himself accordingly. Cal started to speak, then changed his mind. What were you two talking about? the Asian asked. He said he saw a face in the air, the ragged man answered.  Was there a face? I didn't see anything, Cal answered. While the two were talking, Zen was watching a youth in a loincloth across the room, standing erect against the wall, looking as if he were being crucified there, but without making any sound, the youth was slowly vanishing. While the youth was sliding away, the violin note throbbed softly in the air. As he vanished it went into silence, ending on a note of triumph. The Lieutenant became suspicious. He scanned the people against the wall. I thought there were more, he muttered. Slowly he counted them. Dutty ate, he said. As if to engrave the number on his memory, he repeated it. Simultaneously one of the Asian soldiers spoke to him in a swift flow of sound. Zen could not understand what was being said, but he guessed from the way the soldier pointed to the spot where the fat youth had stood, that he was reporting what he had seen happen. While they were talking, the face appeared again in the air high in the middle of the room. The face was that of a man. He was wearing a mustache, and he looked around the room with alert brown eyes. Notting to himself with apparent satisfaction, he vanished. Down the wall from Zen, a young woman vanished. She went rapidly in the flicker of an eye. A youth standing next in line to her followed suit. Turning the Lieutenant saw that something had happened. Hastily he counted those standing against the wall. Dutty, six. Who slept out while my back was turned? As he asked the question, three of the new people vanished behind him. No one answered him. He turned again and realized that more blank places had appeared while he was not looking. Again, keeping behind him, another one of the new people vanished. Watching, Zen was treated to the spectacle of seeing an Asian officer grow crazy. While the Lieutenant was watching one particular person, nothing happened to the one under his scrutiny. But directly behind him, a person flicked out of existence. For a time, the Lieutenant almost had Zen's sympathy. The Colonel knew what happened to this officer when Kusa returned and found his prey had been permitted to escape. The Asians were not known for leniency to their own men who failed an assigned duty. The Lieutenant knew as well as Zen what would happen to him. But he was helpless. No matter which way he looked, his back was always turned to someone. The person he was not watching vanished. Unnoticed by the Lieutenant, the face that seemed to be directing the vanishing operation appeared and disappeared in the center of the room. It kept directly above the Lieutenant's head, moving as he moved, vanishing as he looked up. The note of the violin came into hearing and went out again, repeating this action time and time again. Sweat dripped off Zen's chin and formed a puddle on the floor under him. He did not know what was happening. Terror that was close to panic was in him but he did not move a muscle. For all he knew, the face might look at him and he might be the next one to vanish. Where would he find himself if he vanished? Would he find himself again? Or did these people slide forever into nothingness, into some dimensional interspace where there was no earth, no moon and no stars? Only he and Nedra were left along the walls. The others had vanished. The Lieutenant had gone completely crazy. Sputtering a mixture of Chinese and English, he was jabbing his rifle against Nedra's stomach and was yelling at her. Tsi! Go away!  Not ten! Where did they go? I demand an answer! Speak! I do not know, the girl answered. Speak! I command it! Kusa will have my throat slit if I let all of you get away. I have already, the Lieutenant jabbed the muzzle of his rifle against her stomach.  He met what he said. Smiling at him, the girl vanished. He pulled the trigger of the weapon. The bullets howled madly through the gallery. Xen dropped hastily to the floor. Death was too close for him to be amazed at the sight of an Asian officer shooting at nothing. The Lieutenant stopped shooting when the magazine was empty. As he clicked another clip into place, some measure of sanity seemed to return to him. He did not shoot the Colonel. Instead, Xen found himself being prodded with the muzzle of the still hot and smoking rifle.  If I knew how to do it, I'd be gone, he said. Where did they go? How did they do it? Fine flecks of spittle were blown from the Lieutenant's lips. The sound of hot lead was still strong in Xen's ears. At any moment the Lieutenant might start shooting again for any reason, or for no reason. I don't know, Xen said. But you've got to know. You're one of them. Would I stand around here and let you shoot me if I was one of them? Xen answered. Some of the logic of the question must have penetrated to the officer's mad mind. No. No, you wouldn't. That is, I guess you wouldn't. But you might be trying to trick me. The thought of being tricked seemed to bring all his fury to the surface.  How? Xen demanded. You put us all to sleep, you and that girl.  I was there. I was there, but I didn't have a damn thing to do with it, and neither did the girl. Then who did? West. He was outside with some kind of a sleep-generator that operated electronically. Doubt came over the Lieutenant's face. How was he to know if this tall, thin Yankee was telling the truth? In his book All Americans Were Liars. Why, trust this one.  The shot went home. Like most Asians, this officer was superstitious. Watching the reaction, Xen wondered if this man would ever again dare to go to sleep at night. The deadly Dugfoss, the devil souls of the departed, might strangle him in a spirit-noose the instant he closed his eyes. On the other hand, there was Kuso. The Lieutenant knew what the Asian leader would do to him. Xen could see him making up his mind that it was better to take a chance on the deadly devils that roamed the darkness than on Kuso. The night devils might miss. You lie! The Lieutenant lifted the rifle. At the same instant, Kuso and West entered. The Lieutenant lowered the rifle. Hastily, he approached his chief and saluted. Then, taking as few chances as possible, he prostrated himself on the floor. Reaching for Kuso's foot, he tried to place it on his neck as a token of submission.  The Asian leader's eyes ranged the room. He saw instantly that his prisoners were missing. His eyes turned green. He kicked the Lieutenant in the face again and demanded to know what had happened. The luckless officer broke into a stream of tight, sing-song language. Now and then he waved his hand as if to say that they had been here but had gone away. The Dugfoss took them! He screamed in English. Kuso kicked him in the throat this time. He had no belief in night devils. He did not think they could spirit live people away, and he was not afraid of them. Another burst of broken, impassioned speech came from the Lieutenant's lips. Listening to the sound, watching the contortions in the officer's body, Zen thought with some satisfaction that Ed and Jake were being avenged. Not that they deserved vengeance. They had gotten exactly what was coming to them. Kuso remained aloof. He glanced around the room but no flicker of surprise showed on his face. Did he know what had happened here? Kuso, listening to his Lieutenant, glanced once at the craggy man, a look that was pure suspicious hatred. If it had been possible, Kuso would have had West skinned alive then and there. Too much was at stake for that. A flayed man could not reveal his secrets. He could only die. Kuso left off kicking his Lieutenant and trying to listen to him at the same time. He turned to West. It seems that your people have depotted, he said. At least they do not seem to be here, the craggy man answered. Again his voice had the deep boom of a bell in it. That is interesting, Kuso said. I find it so, West answered. How was it done? West spread his hands in a gesture that said something or nothing. Perhaps it would be best to ask them. You know. The words were a statement, not a question. It could be, West answered.  I want to know how it was done. No alibis, no evasions, no excuses, just the truth. The tone of his voice carried the thread of violence with it. West smiled. Have I alibied or evaded? Did you not see everything in our center here? I saw many things. That I saw all I do not know. You saw what the colonel here, the craggy man nodded toward Zen, called my super radar. Did you show him that? Zen demanded. Of course. I have no secrets from the Great Asian. Besides, has he not promised me a commission as a marshal in the armed forces of his land? The words were easily spoken, but Zen knew that West was actually stalling for time. What was he waiting for? Was it the appearance again of the face that had looked from the air in the center of the room? Were there vanished people to reappear, armed with new weapons, and take the Asians prisoners?  He'll never make good on his promise.  His voice was a bold bellow of sound that roared back from the walls of the gallery and was echoed from the tunnels that led outward. You are stalling!  West was silent. My dog here says the people vanished. Kuso kicked his lieutenant again to indicate who was meant. Howl, dog! The lieutenant obeyed. He was in such a state of mind that if Kuso had told him to die, he would probably have obeyed, as a result of terror and suggestion.  Kuso said to West. Really, the possibility does not concern me, the craggy man answered. Did you have that in mind for me? The tone was conversational. West, this is no time to go over, Zen growled. I have no such intention, Colonel. You admitted once that what you wanted most to do was to join the bronze youth. I am asking you.  Kuso screamed.  Ah! West said. The Asian leader started to shout in order at his soldiers to shoot the craggy man, then changed his mind as he realized that even though he had the weapons and the men, there was nothing he could gain by killing the goose that might possibly lay a golden egg. As much as he wanted to have West killed, for defying him, he knew he would have to save this pleasure until later. Kuso swallowed his anger. Since his rage was so great, he had to swallow several times before he got it all down, after which he looked as if he were going to choke on it. Look! Let's be reasonable, he urged. I'm willing, Zen said.  Kuso shouted. He is worth something to me, West interposed. Again the Asian swallowed. If ever he reached the explosion point, his anger was going to come out as boiling rage. As I said, let us be reasonable and talk this over together. Glad to, West agreed. What is more reasonable than a corpse? The question to Kuso aback, but only for an instant. Come to think of it, you're right. Nothing that I have ever seen is more agreeable than a corpse, to me that is. Are you still determined to volunteer for that position, or should I say, condition? Any time, West answered. As I told Kurt some time ago, I am rather tired of this plane of existence and I would like to see what it's like over Yonder. Not that I don't already know, he added. Who know what it's like beyond death? Kuso asked, curious in spite of himself. Certainly, West said, in a sure tone of voice. Listening, Zen again had the impression that the craggy man was stalling for time again. On the other hand, he might be telling the literal truth. He might know what waited at the end of life. If so, Zen let this possibility slide hastily out of his mind. He had more to think about now than he had brain cells to use for the task. Then, what is it like? Kuso asked. You have heard of heaven. Yes. That's where I'm going. As he spoke, West vanished. A stunned silence held the big gallery.  On the floor, the Lieutenant dared to sit up. He even dared to speak. See, that's the way they went. I couldn't stop them! Kuso shouted in order at his men. Zen found himself tied hand and foot. A raging maniac paced the floor beside him. Every now and then, Kuso kicked him. Screaming at the top of his voice, the Asian leader invited Zen to vanish too. It did Zen no good to try to protest that he was not one of the new people, that he knew nothing of the method they had used in disappearing. In Kuso's mind, he was one of them. He was to be treated as such. End of Chapter 12