Part 4 (1/2)

He wasn't in any way sure he could turn a sun supernova. What was there to lead them to think he might be able to do it? Burning a forest and burning a giant red sun were two things fantastically far apart.

It was something out of a nightmare. But even if he could...

”In case you find the task unpleasant, Mr. Gunnderson,” the ice-chip voice of the s.p.a.ceCom head continued, ”we have included in this s.h.i.+p's complement a Mindee and a Blaster.

”Their sole job is to watch and protect you, Mr. Gunnderson. To make certain you are kept in the proper, patriotic state of mind. They have been instructed to read you from this moment on, and should you not be willing to carry out your a.s.signment...well, I'm certain you are familiar with a Blaster's capabilities.”

Gunnderson stared at the blank-faced telepath sitting across from him on the other bunk. The man was obviously listening to every thought in Gunnderson's head. A strange, nervous expression was on the Mindee's face. His gaze turned to the Blaster who accompanied him, then back to Gunnderson.

The pyrotic swiveled a glance at the Blaster, then swiveled away as quickly.

Blasters were men meant to do one job, one job only; a Blaster became the type of man he had to be, to be successful doing that job. They all looked the same, and now Gunnderson found the look almost terrifying. He had not thought he could be terrified, any more.

”That is your a.s.signment, Gunnderson, and if you have any hesitation, remember our enemy is not human. They may look like you, but mentally they are extraterrestrials as unlike you as you are unlike a slug. And remember there's a war on. You will be saving the lives of many Earthmen by performing this task.

”This is your chance to become respected, Gunnderson.

”A hero, respected, and for the first time,” he paused, as though not wis.h.i.+ng to say what was next, ”for the first time-worthy of your world.”

The rasp-rasp-rasp of the speak-tip filled the stateroom. Gunnderson said nothing. He could hear the phrase whirling, whirling in his head: There's a war on, There's a war on, THERE'S A WAR ON! He stood up and slowly walked to the door.

”Sorry, Mr. Gunnderson,” the Mindee said emphatically, ”we can't allow you to leave this room.”

He sat down and lifted the battered mouth organ from where it had fallen. He fingered it for a while, then put it to his lips. He blew, but made no sound.

And he didn't leave.

CHAPTER III.

They thought he was asleep. The Mindee-a cadaverously thin man with hair grayed at the temples and slicked back in strips on top, with a gasping speech and a nervous movement of hand to ear-spoke to the Blaster.

”He doesn't seem to be thinking, John!”

The Blaster's smooth, hard features moved vaguely, and a quirking frown split his inkline mouth.

”Can he do it?”

The Mindee rose, ran a hand quickly through the straight, slicked hair.

”Can he do it? No, he shouldn't be able to do it, but he's doing it! I can't figure it out...it's eerie.

Either I've lost it, or he's got something new.” ”Trauma-barrier?”

”That's what they told me before I left, that he seemed to be blocked off. But they thought it was only temporary, and that once he was away from the Bureau buildings he'd clear up.

”But he hasn't cleared up.”

The Blaster looked concerned. ”Maybe it's you.”

”I didn't get a Master's rating for nothing, John, and I tell you there isn't a trauma-barrier I can't at least get something through. If only a s.n.a.t.c.h of gabble. But here there's nothing-nothing!”

”Maybe it's you,” the Blaster repeated, still concerned.

”d.a.m.n it! It's not me! I can read you, can't I-your right foot hurts from new boots, you wish you could have the bunk to lie down on, you...Oh, h.e.l.l, I can read you, and I can read the Captain up front, and I can read the pitmen in the hold, but I can't read him!

”It's like hitting a sheet of gla.s.s in his head. There should be a reflection if not penetration, but he seems to be opaqued. I didn't want to say anything when he was awake, of course.”

”Do you think I should twit him a little-wake him up and warn him we're on to his game?”

The Mindee raised a hand to stop the very thought of the Blaster. ”Great G.o.ds, no!” He gestured wildly. ”This Gunnderson's invaluable. If they found out we'd done anything unauthorized to him, we'd both be tanked.”

Gunnderson lay on his acceleration-bunk, feigning sleep, listening to them. It was a new discovery to him, what they were saying. He had sometimes suspected that the pyrotic faculty of his mind was not the only way he differed from the norm-perhaps there were others. And if it was a side-effect, there ought to be others. He knew he could not read minds; was this impenetrability by Mindees another factor?

Perhaps the Blaster was powerless against him, too.

It would never clear away his problem-that was something he could do only in his own mind-but it might make his position and final decision safer.

There was only one way to find out. He knew the Blaster could not actually harm him severely, by s.p.a.ceCom's orders; but he wouldn't hesitate to blast off one of the Pyrotic's arms -cauterizing it as it disappeared-to warn him, if the situation seemed desperate enough.

The Blaster had seemed to Gunnderson a singularly overzealous man, in any case. It was a terrible risk, but he had to know.

There was only one way to find out, and he took it, finding a startling new vitality in himself for the first time in over thirty years.

He snapped his legs off the bunk, and lunged across the stateroom, shouldering aside the Mindee and straight-arming the Blaster in the mouth. The Blaster, surprised by the rapid and completely unexpected movement, had a reflex thought, and one entire bulkhead was washed by bolts of power. They crackled, and the plasteel buckled. His direction had been upset, but Gunnderson knew the instant he regained his mental balance, the power would be directed at him.

Gunnderson was at the stateroom door, palming the lokt.i.te open-having watched the manner used by the Blaster when he had left on several occasions-and putting one foot into the companionway.

Then the Blaster struck. His fury rose, and he lost his sense of duty. This man had struck him-an accepted psioid, not an oddie! The black of his eyes deepened, and his face strained. His cheekbones rose in the stricture of a grin, and the force materialized.

It was all around Gunnderson.

He could feel the heat...see his clothes sparking and disappearing...feel his hair charring at the tips...feel the strain of psi power in the air.

But there was no effect on him.

He was safe-safe from the power of the Blaster.

Then he knew he didn't have to run, and he turned back to the cabin.

The two psioids were staring at him in open terror.

It was almost always night in invers.p.a.ce.

The s.h.i.+p ploughed constantly through a swamp of black, with metal inside, and metal outside, and the cold, unchanging devil-dark beyond the metal. Men hated invers.p.a.ce-they sometimes took the years- long journey through normal s.p.a.ce, to avoid the chilling mystery of invers.p.a.ce. For one moment the total black would surround the s.h.i.+p, and the next they would be sifting through a field of changing, flickering crazy quilt colors. Then dark again, then light, then dots, then shafts, then the dark once more. It was ever- changing, like a madman's dream. But not interestingly changing, so one would wish to watch, as one might watch a kaleidoscope. This was strange, and unnatural, something beyond the powers of the mind, or the abilities of the eye to comprehend. Ports were unlocked only in the officer's country, and those had solid lead s.h.i.+elds that would slam down and dog closed at the slap of a b.u.t.ton. Nothing else could be done: for men were men, and s.p.a.ce was their eternal enemy. But no man willingly stared back at the deep of invers.p.a.ce.

In the officer's country, Alf Gunnderson reached with his sight and his mind into the coal-soot that now lay beyond the s.h.i.+p. Since he had proved his invulnerability over the Blaster, he had been given the run of the s.h.i.+p. Where could he go? Nowhere that he could not be found. Guards watched the egress ports at all times, so he was still, in effect, a prisoner on the invers.h.i.+p.