The Horror Page 9

  "That's right, Colonel," remarked Goldstein, "you're not wrong about that!"

  Everson ignored him and went on with his deliberations. Goldstein needed the crew in order to bring the guppy back to Earth. It would be a hopeless attempt on his part to land the ship without being detected.

  "Who said I wanted to go back to Earth right away?" asked Goldstein.

  "I infer that you are holding our home planet in reserve for later then," said the colonel. "I see—you still have to wait awhile, is that it, Goldstein? You haven't yet fully developed the special talent that you apparently discovered in yourself on Eppan. That's the way it is with all the mutants—they only ripen up after a long training and development period."

  "Very sharp!" sneered the mutant. "My paranormal capacities are quite sufficient for taking over this ship. But you're right—my development is only in its beginning stages. What the final result will be I don't even know, myself."

  Everson nodded. "That kind of bugs you, doesn't it?

  And I do mean bug —like an insect getting high on flower juice, you're off on Cloud 9 dreaming of your coming power. You're sick in the head, sonny. That tangled mess of your hair is a good picture of what your think-cage must be like—real spaced out."

  "You can't get to me with that kind of talk," retorted Goldstein. "Would you let yourself be influenced by an orangutan?"

  "Of course you know the old story about the scientist and the monkey," continued the Commander. "The scientist locked a chimpanzee in a room with a number of instruments and mechanical gadgets in order to find out what the animal would probably do. When the man bent down to peer through the keyhole, he stared right into the monkey's eye because the chimp was also interested in finding out what the scientist would probably do."

  "Did that get the ape out of the room?" asked Goldstein scornfully.

  He apparently waited for the colonel to give him an answer but the latter remained silent. His feelings for the mutant were a mixture of fear, hatred and contempt. For a man of Everson's inner qualities, Goldstein's comportment was inconceivable. Goldstein's new perspectives seemed to lie in a realm beyond good and evil, in some special plane of existence which only the mutant himself could see. It wasn't possible to apply any normal standard of measurement to him because he wasn't normal. He was a new kind of human—a species that might well continue to appear in ever greater numbers.

  In silent horror, Everson contemplated the probability of there being other power-crazed mutants like him around. This development phase among mutants was something that was going to have to be watched and controlled. Everson perceived the magnitude of the task that Rhodan had cut out for himself in this area and now he understood many things which before had merely elicited a shake of the head.

  "The intensity of your deliberations is gratifying," announced Goldstein. "But I see that you're still digressing from our immediate problem. I expect you to answer my question."

  "Give me a little more time," said Everson. "You know very well that I haven't formed any decision yet."

  "Alright," returned Goldstein, "maybe I can help you to make up your mind a little faster."

  Expecting to witness some new kind of devilment, Everson drew clear of Weiss.

  "Look at your cadet there," directed Goldstein. Everson could see that Ramirez slowly recovered from his state of rigidity and then seemed to slump from exhaustion, after which he gradually straightened up. His eyes reflected a deep-rooted fear. In a half-raised position he stared at Goldstein. When the mutant moved, he followed him with his gaze like one hypnotized.

  "You see I can release them from their paralysis any time I please," remarked Goldstein.

  "What do you plan to do with the youngster?"

  "You'd better make up your mind, once and for all." Goldstein's voice took on a shrill and menacing tone. "If you hesitate much longer, Ramirez is going to have to suffer for it."

  Ramirez emitted a low cry. It was like the bleating lament of a lost animal, which shook the Commander far more than words.

  "Leave Gonzalez alone," said Everson. "You can have the ship. I can't conceal my thoughts from you so you know that all I'm doing is waiting for a chance to destroy you."

  Contrary to expectations, the mutant refrained from making a sarcastic retort. Instead he calmly walked over to the navigation desk. "You're slowly coming to your senses," he said. "Now we can go into the further details. Don't try any tricks, because you know I'll see them coming."

  "State your demands," the colonel requested.

  "Were you expected back on Earth at any specified time?" asked the mutant.

  Before Everson could express himself he knew that Goldstein had probed for the answer and found it already.

  "No, naturally not, but after a certain length of time Rhodan is bound to ask what's happened to us or where we are.

  "Colonel, you've just about been an eye witness to the entire development of the New Power into the Solar Empire—from the start. At the expiration of that 'certain length of time', what do you think Rhodan will do in order to find out what's happened to you and the guppy?"

  "There are a number of possibilities," replied Everson. "It will be assumed that we've run into trouble on Eppan and they'll send out a search ship in that direction."

  "In other words that would mean that the Fauna would be least likely to be looked for where it will soon be: in the relative vicinity of the Earth," confirmed Goldstein.

  "That could well be," admitted Everson reluctantly. "But it's impossible to land there without detection. The warning and search systems are so heavily interlocked and super-laminated that even a gnat couldn't fly around there without being spotted and tied into a precise set of target coordinates."

  Goldstein sounded condescending. "I know all that. It will be your job then to find a refuge for this ship that is far enough away to be beyond Terra's traffic scanner range, and yet close enough so that they'd be unlikely to look for us there. Rhodan will do a routine search in the Eppan area, which gains considerable extra time for me." He grinned. "Remember, Everson—no tricks!"

  For a brief moment Everson had considered landing the K-262 on Venus, where they were sure to be discovered, but Goldstein had perceived this plan and consequently had warned him with a superior smile.

  In further elucidation of his plans, Goldstein continued. "Once we have found a suitable place I won't need your services for awhile. At a certain point in time you will then go to Rhodan and lay my demands before him. I will expect Rhodan's answer. How he may react to my stipulations is immaterial at the moment. Your most important task for the present is to select a suitable base for my operations."

  "I hope you don't think that I can navigate the guppy solo through the void. For that I need the whole crew."

  Goldstein nodded in agreement. "You shall have your crewmen. But first I have to put certain safety measures into effect so that I can defend myself against a mass attack. If they all try to gang up on me at once, the situation could get rough on both sides because then I wouldn't be so gentle in my methods of self-defense. Aside from the regular weapons distributed about the ship, you and Scoobey are the only ones carrying paralysis guns. You will both throw them over the railing. The companionway stairs won't be needed any more. Don't worry about Finney and Wolkov—I'll soon get them up here. I'm going to set myself up behind the transceiver equipment. Since the nav table is exactly across from the radio cabinets, only one person can come at me at any one time. That should be sufficient protection. Of course your men don't impress me as being particularly the warrior types but I have to cover every angle. Whoever attacks me will be paralyzed again. You can tell that to your crew, Colonel. It'll cool them down a bit and make them more tractable. I am not going to take the slightest risk in this matter. Under no circumstances will I permit my plans to be shattered by any foolish error on my part. I am absolutely committed to reaching my objective."

  "That I can believe," said Everson ironically. He threw his gun ove
r the railing. "But what about Mataal?"

  "He's unimportant. He'll probably die. He isn't able to adapt himself to this environment. His psyche is failing because of sadness and homesickness."

  Everson turned to Mataal, who sat like a statue in a corner. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, pityingly. "I had not intended for him to have to go through all this." The dark slits of the Eppanian's eyes watched him in a mute expression of hopelessness. "Would you like to go back to your cabin?" Everson asked him. "Goldstein won't object to that and can manage somehow to bring you there."

  Mataal shook his head silently.

  "Quit worrying about that dumb savage," interjected Goldstein impatiently. "He's insignificant."

  With an effort, Everson suppressed an instinctive string of invectives. There was just one alternative left: to sweat it out—until the mutant made just one slip-up!

  "Naturally the telecom gear will continue to remain off the air," advised Goldstein. He was about to say something else but out of the corner of an eye he caught sight of Ramirez, who got up like a drunken sailor and tumbled into Everson's arms.

  "No sir!" His voice was hardly more than a tremulous sigh. "I'm sorry I weakened for a moment. Don't give him the ship. If he kills us then he has to die, too, because without us he can't do a thing with the guppy. Maybe this is our last chance to stop this criminal."

  Goldstein's provoking laughter rang discordantly through the Command Central. The mutant had not interrupted Ramirez, who supported himself against Everson. "The kid wants to make a martyr of himself, Everson. What do you say to that?"

  Everson freed himself gently from the cadet. In the background he heard Weiss muttering curses incoherently to himself. Goldstein raised his hands, apparently enjoying the situation,

  "Don't say it, Colonel," he said. "I know your answer and it's reasonable enough. You don't want any martyrs. There will be other such fools among the crew but fortunately you're not one of them."

  Everson stared at him, eyes blazing with anger. Wordlessly he swallowed the insult because he thought he knew why Goldstein had expressed it that way. Basically, the mutant was easy to see through.

  "I'm sorry to have to interrupt your psychological observations," said Goldstein. "But now we'll take care of the patients here." He shouted in sudden fanaticism: "I will destroy anyone who stands in my way!"

  Yes, thought Everson bitterly, there can be no doubt about that!

  10/ SLAVES OF THE MASTER

  Their faces were tense with ill-concealed hate and they performed their work in resentful silence. Their hatred was concentrated on the man who stood there handing out orders between the nav desk and the transceiver cabinets. He was a thin, disheveled-looking youngster whose ungainly movements seemed almost boyish. This was the one who could guess their thoughts even before they completed them.

  Two yards above Goldstein floated a heavy block of metal, supported by invisible forces. The mutant had threatened to smash anyone with it who dared to approach him without his permission. But the pseudo-body hanging there was more than just a security device for Goldstein—it was a symbol of conquest. Ever since the mutant had released the crewmen from their paralysis the thing had hovered over their heads. Also he had scornfully reminded them that he could paralyze them again at any moment. It was no longer necessary for him to probe them first to feel out their nerve locations because he knew them precisely now. His paranormal faculties now made it possible for him to penetrate their minds in a matter of seconds and completely incapacitate them.

  In spite of this they had tried an attack on the sneering mutant only an hour before. Delacour and Landi had seen a possible opening as they stood together near the switchboard. Even Everson had not been aware of their intention until they put it into action.

  "Get him!" bellowed Delacour suddenly.

  Landi made a tiger-like leap toward Goldstein followed by Delacour, who let out a savage war-whoop in an effort to sweep the other spacemen along with them. But before the latter could even grasp the idea of an attack, it was all over. Delacour and Landi collapsed in front of the mutant.

  "Take them away," said Goldstein coldly. "They'll regain consciousness soon. How could they believe that such an incredibly stupid method as that would work?"" He waited until Delacour and the radio man had been removed from in front of him. "There's already another plan to overcome me," he continued. "Scoobey, do you seriously think I'd just stand around and wait for you to short the main powerline to the bridge deckplates?"

  The First Officer answered him belligerently: "I'll still pull it off—any time I think it will work."

  "That's crazy, Walt," interjected Everson. "You'd only endanger us all needlessly. He'd be somewhere insulated before you even got started—so knock it off."

  "Which doesn't keep the noble Commander himself from brooding over other ideas," observed Goldstein. "Also Doc Morton is silly enough to think he has a chance with his knockout powders."

  That had been an hour ago. Since then nothing more had happened. They were in the process of preparing for the third transition. Goldstein had ordered a few changes. He appeared to want to avoid the immediate vicinity of the Earth under all circumstances. Everson knew that after the landing they would have very little chance to overpower Goldstein. If they were to surprise him at all it could only be here in the guppy where they were close together in a congested space. If they shouldn't be able to handle the little monster, Everson had decided not to carry out the landing. He was convinced that Goldstein was aware of this but so far the mutant hadn't given any indication of what he might do in such a case. Had he perchance discovered the possibility of guiding the Fauna without benefit of a crew? Under normal laws of logic, it was unthinkable, but nothing seemed to be impossible for Goldstein.

  The next try came from Stanford, the biologist, whose only duty at the ship's controls was during a transition jump. He had managed to detach a heavy switch handle from his control board and the first thing Everson knew about it was when he saw the heftily thrown part whiz past him—toward Goldstein.

  It almost looked as though the mutant had been taken by surprise and that he would be hit. But then Everson was forced to realize that Goldstein had only been playing with them in order to build up false hopes, which he now shattered mercilessly.

  He ducked swiftly and the round metal shaft sailed over him, while slowing down in its flight across the bridge. Everson saw that the thing's momentum was being manipulated by an unseen force. Stanford's projectile turned in a long curve and returned like a boomerang. The biologist watched its flight in white-faced amazement. Then, as it picked up speed suddenly, Goldstein let out a wild laugh.

  "Hit the deck, Stanford!" yelled Everson as he perceived what was intended.

  The spaceman threw himself to the deck but the missile was almost upon him.

  That thing will smash into him, thought Everson, horrified. But nothing of the kind occurred. The lever came to a stop over Stanford and then slowly sank until it pressed gently against the base of the biologist's anxiously covered skull.

  "On your feet, Stanford!" Goldstein called out in a tone that was ironically patronizing. "That's right—now take the nice lever back to where it belongs."

  All of their attempts to get at him had to be unavailing because at the outset Goldstein always saw them coming. The mutant kept up a constant mental surveillance on them.

  "Stanford was extra clever that time," said Goldstein. "He figured he could keep his plan hidden from me by holding a second plan on the surface of his thoughts. He kept on thinking of how he might get the jump on me, in order to distract me from his real idea. I assure you that I can spot your most ingeniously contrived skullduggery no matter how you try to camouflage it."

  Dejectedly, Stanford returned to his position. His inspiration about doubling up his thoughts hadn't been a bad one, considering, but he still couldn't conceal his motives from Goldstein. A successful attack would have to be one that required no premeditation—ligh
tning swift, without brainwork ahead of time.

  However, thought Everson resignedly, such a thing was impossible. The human brain was not so constituted that it could interrupt its train of thought at will. It was a special characteristic of the whole process that one had to think intensively of whatever he wished to bring from his mind into manifestation. The only way to overcome the mutant was to also overcome this particular problem. From whatever side the colonel regarded their situation he stared at a blank wall. In every direction he turned there seemed to be a difficulty of equal magnitude. In the end the mutant would be the unquestionable victor.

  • • •

  The synthesized metal block above him swayed gently. Goldstein stabilized it and again turned his attention to the men. He had anticipated resistance but had been surprised at their unbelievable stubbornness and persistence in their attempts to get rid of him.

  Goldstein knew that the ceaseless burden his paranormal powers were forced to withstand now was incomparably greater than it had been initially when he had been able to operate at his leisure. Of course he had become stronger now and could take on very unusual loads but he was not sure whether or not he could hold up at this rate over a long period of time. Still, there was no other way since he needed the spacemen to navigate the guppy.

  He was aware of Everson's plan to sabotage the landing. Later he would get rid of the colonel and replace him with Scoobey, who in spite of his rebelliousness was nevertheless easier to take by surprise. The mutant was well aware of the fact that Everson's complacency up to this point was based on a single hope: that he, Goldstein, would make a mistake.

  Cautiously he checked a second synthesized pseudo-body which he kept hidden below the bridge so that at appropriate times he could experiment with it. Deep within him, Goldstein still had his strange feeling of uneasiness. It had remained with him ever since he had first become aware of his special powers. It was as though something were there that he didn't comprehend but which he was compelled to fathom sooner or later.