Chapter 11

PSIONTISTS

Secretary of Labor Deissner was very unhappy. The United Copper Miners, as a union,

had been wiped out of existence. Mighty Drivers' all-out effort at New York Spaceport

had been smashed with an ease that was, to Deissner's mind, appalling. Worse, it was

inexplicable; and, since no one else really knew anything, either, he was being buffeted,

pushed, and pulled in a dozen different directions at once.

The Dutchman, however, was nobody's push-over. He merely set his stubborn jaw a little

more stubbornly. "I want facts!" he bellowed, smashing his open hand down onto the top

of his desk. "I've got to have facts! Until I get facts we can't move-I won't move!"

For weeks, then, and months, "Dutch" Deissner studied ultra confidential reports and

interviewed ultra-secret agents-many of whom were so ultra-ultra-secret as to be entirely

unknown to any other member of WestHem's government . . and the more he worked the

less secure he felt and the more unhappy he became. He was particularly unhappy when,

late one night and very secretly, he conferred with a plenipotentiary from EastHem.

"The Nameless One is weary of meaningless replies to his questions," the Slay said,

bruskly. "I therefore demand with his mouth a plan of action and its date of execution."

"Demand and be damned," Deissner said, flatly. "I will not act until I know what that

verdammte Maynard has got up his sleeve. Tell Nameless that."

"In that case you will come with me now."

"You talk like a fool. One false move and you and your escort die where you sit. Tell

Nameless he does not own me yet and it may very well be he never will. If he wants to

talk to me I will arrange a meeting in South Africa."

"You are rash. Are you fool enough to believe that he will condescend to meet you at any

place of your choosing?"

"I don't care whether he does or not. If he knows as much as I do, he will."

The messenger went away; and, a long time. later, the Nameless One did meet

Deissner-with due precautions on each side, of course-in South Africa.

"Don't you know, fool," the dictator opened up, "that you will die for this?"

"No. Neither do you. Glance over this list of the real names of some men who have died

lately in accidents of various kinds."

If the Slav's iron control was shaken as he read the long list, it was scarcely perceptible.

Deissner went on: "As long as it was to my advantage I let you think that I was just

another one of your puppets, but I'm not. If you insist on committing suicide by jumping in

the dark, count me out."

"In the dark? My information is that . . ."

 "Have you any information as to where those so-huge tanks came from? Where they

could possibly have been built?"

"No, but.

"Then whatever information you have is completely useless," the Dutchman drove

relentlessly on. " Maynard has been ready. What more is he ready for? That thought

made me think. How did he get that way? I investigated. Do you know that computers

and automation to the amount of hundreds of millions of dollars have been paid for by

and delivered to non-existent firms?"

"No, but what . . . ?"

"From that fact I drew the tentative conclusion that MetEnge has industrialized a virgin

planet somewhere; one that we know nothing whatever about."

"Ridiculous! MetEnge builds its own automation . but to save time they might . . . but

such a planet would have to be staffed, and that could not be done tracelessly."

"It was done tracelessly enough so that we did not suspect it. I find that about sixty

thousand male graduate engineers and scientists, and about the same number of young

and nubile females of the same types, have disappeared from the ninety six planets."

"So?" This information had little visible effect.

"So those disappearances prove beyond any reasonable doubt that my tentative

conclusion is a fact. Maynard is not bluffing; he is ready. Now, if MetEnge has worked

that long and hard in complete secrecy it should be clear even to you that you and your

missiles are precisely as dangerous to them as a one-week-old kitten would be. Before

we can act we must find that planet and bomb it out of existence."

"It is impossible to hide so many people, especially young . . ."

"Do you think my agents didn't check? They did, thoroughly, and could find . . ."

"Bah! Your agents are stupid!"

"They were smart enough to put the arm on your men on that list, and if you think

Maynard is stupid you had better think again. The worst fact is that twenty eight of my

agents have disappeared, too, all of whom had worked up into good jobs with MetEnge

and any one of whom could have and would have built a subspace communicator had it

been humanly possible. The situation is bad. Very bad. That is why I have not acted. I

will not act until I have enough facts to act on."

"My agents would have found that planet if it exists. I will send my own men and they will

find it if it exists." "You think you've got a monopoly on brains?" Deissner sneered. "Send

your men and be damned. You'll learn. Here are copies of everything I have found out,"

and he handed The Nameless One a bulging brief-case.

Nameless took it without thanks. "In three months I will know all about everything and I

will act accordingly." "You hope. In the meantime you must agree that a general strike is

out of the question."

"Until I investigate, yes. Harassing tactics merely." "Exactly what I am doing. Plan M."

"As good as any. Your status in my organization will depend upon my findings," and the

Nameless One of EastHem strode out.

The tremendous new starship, the Explorer, built of leybyrdite and equipped for any

foreseeable eventuality, was ready to fly. The Destons and the Joneses were holding

their last pre-flight conference. No one had said anything for a couple of minutes; yet no

one had suggested that the meeting was over.

"Well, that covers it . . . I guess. . . ." Deston said, finally. "Except maybe for one thing

that's been niggling at me ... but it makes so little sense that I'm afraid to say it out loud.

So if any of you can think of anything else we might need, no matter how wild it sounds .

. . I'm playing a hunch. Write it down on a slip of paper and put it face-down on the table

... here's mine . . . it'll be three out of four, I think ... read 'em and weep, Bun."

Bernice turned the four slips over. "Four out of four. Perce Train and Cecily Byrd. But

what in hell do we want 'em for?"

"Search me; just a hunch," Deston said, and:

"Me neither; just intuition." Barbara nodded her head. "But why didn't we say anything ...

oh, I see. You and I didn't, Babe, because we thought Bun wouldn't want her along. Bun

didn't because she thought we'd think it was so she could kick her teeth out. Here didn't

because Bun might think he wanted her along for monkey business. Right?"

That was right, and Deston called Maynard. "You can have 'em both and welcome," was

the tycoon's surprising reaction to Deston's request. "They're the two hardest cases I

ever tried to handle in my life, and I've got troubles enough without combing them out of

my hair every hour on the hour. They did such good jobs on their projects that they

haven't got enough to do. I'd like to fire them both-their assistants are a lot better for

their present jobs than they are-but of course I can't. But listen, son. Why lead with your

chin? If I can't handle those two damned kittyhawks, how do you expect to?"

"I don't know, chief; I'm just playing a hunch. Thanks a lot, and so-long."

Percival Train and Cecily Byrd boarded the Explorer together. "What can you four want

of us?" the red-head asked, as soon as the six were seated around a table. "Particularly,

what can you possibly want of me?"

"We haven't the foggiest idea," was Deston's surprising answer. "But four solid hunches

can't be wrong. So suppose you break down and tell us."

"In that case I think I can. That must mean that you and Bobby are a lot more than just a

wizard and a witch; and that both Here and Bun are heavy-duty psionicists, too-I've more

than suspected just that of Here. Right?"

That's right," Barbara agreed. "So you and Perce both are too." Train's jaw dropped and

he looked at Barbara in pop-eyed astonishment. "Which I didn't suspect consciously for a

second. How long have you had it, Curly-known that you had it, I mean?"

"Just since the dance. You gave me bell, Here, remember? And before that, the chief

and Babe had worked me over, too.. . ."

"I remember." Jones began to grin. "All I'm surprised at  . .

Hush, you." Cecily grinned back at him. "I don't get these moments of truth very often, so

you just listen. Anyway, after the dance I felt lower than a snake's feet. I didn't feel even

like going over to my hand-bag after a cigarette, so I just sat there and looked at it and

pretty soon I could see everything perfectly plainly and one jumped out of my case inside

my bag and into my mouth and lit itself. Then I knew, of course, and started working on it

and 'I got pretty good at it. Watch. I'm over here in the comer and now back in my chair.

Now count the cigarettes in your case, Babe."

"He doesn't need to," Train put in. "Twelve King Camfields. Stainless steel case-not the

one you carried on Rhenia, by the way-right-hand shirt pocket." A king-size Camfield

appeared between Cecily's lips and came alight. "One gone, eleven left."

"Oh?" "Ah!" "So." came three voices at once; and Deston, after counting his cigarettes,

said, "Eleven is right. That's a neat trick, Curly-just a minute."

Grasping his case he stared fixedly at it and a Camfield appeared in his mouth, too; but it

did not light up. "How do you concentrate the energy without burning the end of your . . ."

He broke off as Barbara shot him a thought, then went on, ". . , yeah, that can come

later. Go ahead, Perce."

"You four are using telepathy Train declared. "Uh-huh. It's easy, we'll show you how it

goes. Go ahead."

"There's not much to tell. I've had it all my life, but I've never let on about it until now and

I've never used it except on the job; I've been afraid to. I read up on psionics, but it's

never been demonstrated scientifically and I didn't want the psychs to start with me. So I

kept still. I knew you two were witches, of course-even though that is impossible, too-but

I wasn't in your class, so I still kept still. Oh, I could see the stuff plainly enough when I

knew exactly where to look, but that was all."

"How do you know that was all? You've been fighting the whole concept, haven't you, the

same way I was?" "Could be, I guess ... maybe I have got something ... latent, I mean .

. . . at that."

"I don't suppose we really need to ask you two, then, if you want to come along with us."

"I'll say you don't-and thanks a million for asking us," Cecily breathed; and Train agreed

fervently. He went on, "You have room enough, I suppose? And when's your zero?"

"Plenty. Nineteen hours today was announced, but we can hold it up without hurting

anything a bit."

"No need to. That gives us over seven hours and we won't need half that. Except for our

bags at the hotel all our stuff's in the shed. We'll be seeing you-let's jet, Curly."

Train called an aircab and they were whisked across the city. Nothing was said until they

were in the girl's room. He put both arms around her and looked straight into her eyes;

his hard but handsome face strangely tender. "This hasn't been enough, Sess. I asked

you once before to marry, me...."

"I'm glad you brought that up, Perce. I was just going to ask you if you still harbored the

idea."

There is no need to go into exactly what happened then. After a time, however, he said,

"I knew why you wouldn't, before."

"Of course," she replied, soberly. "We would have been at each other's throats half the

time-we would have hurt each other unbearably."

"And this changes things completely," he said, just as soberly. "Exploring the universe

with those four . . . as well as the unknown universe of psionics. . . ."

"Oh, wonderful!" she breathed. "Just the thought of it-especially that you're so strongly

psionic, too-rocks me. It changes my whole world. And besides," her expression

changed completely; she gave him a bright, quick grin, "children, especially such

super-children as yours and mine, ought to have two parents. Married. To each other.

You know?"

"Children!" Train gasped. "Why, I didn't know . . . you didn't tell me you were . . ."

"Of course not, silly. I'm not. I'm talking about the ones we're going to have.

Super-children. Half a dozen of 'em."

"Oh." Train gulped. "Okay. But why the 'super'?" "Have you ever scanned Teddy Deston

and Babbsy Jones?"

No. Why should I have? Or any other little toddlers?" "They aren't ordinary little toddlers,

Perce. Not by seven thousand rows of apple trees. I got a flash once. Just a flash and

just once, but I know damn well it was a mind-block. They scare me witless. Babe and

Here think they're ordinary babies, too, but Bobby and Bun know very well they aren't.

They won't admit it, of course, even to themselves, to say nothing of to each

other-Bobby and Bun, I mean, not the kids-so don't ever breathe a word of this to

anybody-besides, they'd snatch you bald-headed if you did. So-verbum sap."

"I think you're more than somewhat nuts, presh, but I'll be as verbum sappy as you say.

Now, one for the road," which turned out to be several, "and we'll go hunt us up a

preacher."

"But we can't!" she wailed. "I forgot-just thought of it. Three days-those blood tests and

things!"

"That's right . . . hut with the physicals we've been taking every ten days-proof enough of

perfect health so they'll waive 'em."

"One gets you ten they won't. Did you ever hear of a small-type bureaucrat cutting one

inch o£ his damned red tape?"

"I sure have. All you got to have to push bureacrats around is weight, and we're

heavyweights here . . . it'd be quicker, though, to do it the sneaky way-some starship's

chaplain."

"Oh, let's!" She squealed like a schoolgirl. "I know you meant `sneaky' in its engineering

sense, but I don't. She has as much cat blood in her as I have. Maybe more."

"She?" Train raised his eyebrows. "Better break that up into smaller pieces, presh. Grind

it a little finer."

"Comet-gas! You know who, and why, Bun. If you don't tell her who the chaplain was or

what world he was from-registry, you know-she'll never find out when we were married."

Train laughed "I see, kitten-but I always did like cats, and I don't leak. Okay, little

squirt-let's jet."

Long before nineteen hours, then, the Trains and their belongings arrived at the

Explorer's dock. Leaving her husband at the freight hoist, Cecily went up in the pas-

senger elevator and looked Bernice up. "Where's our room, Bun?" she asked, in a

perfectly matter-of-fact tone and without turning a hair.

Bernice started to say something; but, as she saw the heavy, plain, yellow-gold

band-Cecily had never worn a ring on either hand-she said instead, "Why, I didn't know

you were-when did this happen?"

"Oh, we've been married quite a while. We didn't want it to get out before, of course, but

I thought sure you'd guessed."

"I guessed something, but not that. I'm awfully sorry, Curly, really, but . . ."

"You needn't be, Bun, at all; you had every right to. But I'll tell you one thing right now

that I really mean there'll be no more monkey-business for me. Ever."

"Oh, I'm so glad, Curly," and this time the two women did kiss each other. This was the

beginning of a friendship that neither had thought would ever be.

At exactly nineteen hours the Explorer cut gravs. No one aboard her knew where they

were going. Or what they were looking for. Or how long they would be gone.

When Maynard told Deston that he did not have time to cope with two such

trouble-makers as Train and Byrd, he was stating the exact truth; for he was busier than

ever he had ever been before. It was a foregone conclusion that the opposition, which

included the most corrupt and farthest-left government WestHem had ever known, would

not and could not accept its two minor defeats as having decided the issue.

The crucial question was- Would they call one more local, single-business strike-in an

industry that could not possibly be automated-before taking the supreme gamble of a

general strike?

The Galaxians had been trying for a long time to answer that question. As has been said,

GalMet's spy system (officially, it did not exist; actually, it was an invisible division of the

Public Relations Department) was very good. So was WarnOil's; and InStell's, by the

very nature of things, was better than either. And, long before, Maynard had engineered

a deal whereby Stevens Spehn had been put in charge of the combined "Information

Services" of the Galactic Federation-and it is needless to say what kind of coverage this

new service provided.

Six men now sat at Maynard's conference table. Maynard, as usual, was at its head.

Lansing of WarnOil sat at his left. Spehn sat at his right. Next to Spehn was a newcomer

to the summit table-Vice-President Guerdon Dann, the Admiral of InStell's far-flung fleet

of private police battleships. In full uniform, he was the typical officer of space: big, lean,

hard, poised, and thoroughly fit. While older, of course, than a line officer, his stiff,

crew-cut red hair was only lightly sprinkled with gray and he did not as yet wear lenses.

Side by side, below Lansing, sat two other newcomers, Feodr Ilyowicz and Li Hing

Wong, Russian and Chinese directors on the Board.

"Yes, it'll be milk," Spehn was saying. "Impossible to automate, easy to make one

hundred percent effective, and of extremely high emotional value."

"Right," Maynard agreed. "How the sobbers will shriek and scream about our starving

helpless babies to death by the thousands. Any idea yet as to time?"

"Nothing definite, but it'll be fairly soon and the general strike won't be. They're holding

that up while they're looking for our base, and nobody is even close yet to suspecting

where Base is. Deissner and Nameless are all steamed up about the vanishing boys and

girls and automation, but they're looking for them on a new planet out in space

somewhere, not on an island on Galmetia. Are the kids still happy in Siberia?"

"Very much so; the bonuses take care of the isolation angle very nicely. They're making a

game of being Siberians. They know it won't be too long and they know why we have to

be absolutely sure that a lot of stuff stays hush-hush."

"Good. Next, Dutch Deissner is making independent noises and is getting big ideas. Full

partnership, no less." ` "He'll get himself squashed like a bug."

"Maybe, but so far he's been doing most of the squashing and Mister Big is burning like a

torch."

"Umm ... um . . . mm." Maynard thought for a moment. "So you think EastHem actually

will bomb?" "They're sure to." Spehn glanced across the table at Ilyowicz and Li who

both nodded. "Not too long, I think, after the general strike is called-especially when we

foul it up. Extra-heavy stuff on all our military installations, and really dirty

stuff-one-hundred-percent-lethal nerve gas-on all our biggest cities. Wait a couple of

months and take over."

"But retaliation-oh, sure, evacuation of the upper strata, they figure they have too many

people, anyway." "Check. They figure on losing millions of peasants and workers. They

plan on getting a lot of people away, but I can't get even an inkling as to where. Do either

of you fellows have any ideas on that?"

Li shook his head and Ilyowicz said, "No. I do not believe it can be a developed planet; I

do not think that such a project could have been carried out so tracelessly. My thought is

that it is a temporary hide-out merely, on some distant virgin planet."

"That makes sense," Spehn said. "How are you making out on the subs and the big jets,

Guerd?"

"Satisfactory," the admiral replied. "Everybody with half a brain is with us. We'll be ready

as soon as those missile-killers come through. How are they doing on them, Mr.

Maynard?"

"It took a long time to develop controls rigid enough to stand the gravs, but they're in full

production now. You can start picking them up at Base next Thursday morning."

"Fine!" Dann glanced at the two Asiatics. "How are you two doing? Your jobs are tougher

than ours." "Different, but easier, if anything," Ilyowicz said, and Li nodded twice. "All

really intelligent persons are opposed to government by terrorism. A surprisingly large

number of such persons proved to have enough psionic ability so that our so-called

mystics could teach them to receive and to transmit thought. Thus we have no cells, no

meetings, the absolute minimum of physical contact, and no traceable or detectable

communications. Thus, the Nameless One has not now and will not have any suspicion

that he and five hundred seventy three of his butchers will die on signal."

The Westerners gasped. East was vastly different from West. "But if you can do that,

why . . . ?" Dann began, but shut himself up. That was their job, not his.

"Right." Maynard approved the unspoken thought. "Well, does that cover it?"

"Not quite-one thing bothers me," Spehn said. "The minute we blockade Earth the whole

financial system of the galaxy collapses."

"You tell him, Paul," Maynard said. "You're Deston and Deston."

"Covered like a sucker's bet." Lansing laughed and slapped himself zestfully on the leg.

"That's the prize joker of the whole business. GalBank-the First Galaxian Bank of

Newmars-opens for business day after tomorrow. Have you got any idea of what a

solid-cash basis even one installation like Project Barbizon is? Or especially Rhenia Four,

that's bringing in a net profit of a megabuck an hour? And DesDes owns 'em by the

dozen. Hell, we could fight an interstellar war out of petty cash and never miss it from the

till. Son, if Dutch and Slobski had any idea of how much hard-cash money we've got it'd

scare the bastards right out of their pants."

"I see." Spehn thought for a moment. "I never thought of it before, but the way leybyrdite

is taking everything over, no ordinary bank could handle it, at that. And May nard, I've

studied the material you gave us on your board-of-directors government of the Galactic

Federation and I'll vote for it. Nothing else has ever worked, so it's time something

different was tried."

"It won't be easy, but I'm pretty sure it can be made to work. After all, there have been

quite a few self-cleaning boards of directors that have lasted for generations; showing

substantial profits, yet adhering rigorously to the Principle of Enlightened Self-Interest.

Examples, the largest firms in existence.

"To succeed, our board must both adhere to that Principle and show a profit-the profit in

this case being in terms of the welfare of the human race as a whole. Is there anything

else to come before this meeting?"

was nothing else.

"That's it, then. Round it off neatly, Miss Champion -the adjournment and so forth-as

usual."