“I see,” Iliff said seriously, remembering that she was royalty of a sort, or the Lannai equivalent of it. He shook his head. “The Bureau,” he said, “must have quite a time with you.”
Pagadan stared and laughed. “No doubt they find me a little difficult at times. Still, I do know how to take orders. But in this case it seemed more important to make sure I was not going to be protected again than to appear reasonable and co-operative. So I made use, for the first time, of my special status in the Bureau and insisted that a Zone Agent be sent here. However, I can assure you that the case has developed into an undertaking that actually will require a Zone Agent’s peculiar abilities and equipment.”
“Well,” Iliff shrugged, “it worked and here I am, abilities, equipment and all. What was it you found on Lycanno?”
There was considerable evidence to show that, during the years Tahmey was on record as having been about his criminal activities in space, the man named Deel was living quietly on the fourth planet of the Lycanno System, rarely even venturing beyond its atmospheric limits because of a pronounced and distressing liability to the psychosis of space-fear.
Pagadan gathered this evidence partly from official records, partly and in much greater detail from the unconscious memories of some two hundred people who had been more or less intimately connected with Deel. The investigation appeared to establish his previous existence in Lycanno beyond all reasonable doubt. It did nothing to explain why it should have become merged fantastically with the physical appearance of the pirate Tahmey.
This Deel was remembered as a big, blond, healthy man, good-natured and shrewd, the various details of his features and personality blurred or exaggerated by the untrained perceptions of those who remembered him. The description, particularly after this lapse of time, could have fitted Tahmey just as well—or just as loosely.
It was as far as she could go along that line. Officialdom was lax in Lycanno, and the precise identification of individual citizens by microstructural images or the like was not practiced. Deel had been born there, matured there, become reasonably successful. Then his business was destroyed by an offended competitor, and it was indicated to him that he would not be permitted to re-establish himself in the System.
He had business connections on Gull; and after undergoing a lengthy and expensive conditioning period against the effects of space-fear, he ventured to make the short trip, and was presently working himself back to a position comfortably near the top on Gull.
That was all. Except that—somewhere along the line—his overall physical resemblance to Tahmey had shifted into absolute physical identity. . . .
“I realize, of course, that the duplication of a living personality in another body is considered almost as impossible as the existence of a microstructural double. But it does seem that Tahmey-Deel has to be one or the other.”
“Or,” Iliff grunted, “something we haven’t thought of yet. This is beginning to look more and more like one of those cases I’d like to forget. Well, what did you do?”
“If there was a biopsychologist in the Lycanno System who had secretly developed a method of personality transfer in some form or other, he was very probably a man of considerable eminence in that line of work. I began to screen the minds of persons likely to know of such a man.”
“Did you find him?”
She shook her head and grimaced uncomfortably. “He found me—at least, I think we can assume it was he. I assembled some promising leads, a half dozen names in all, and then—I find this difficult to describe—from one moment to another I knew I was being . . . sought . . . by another mind. By a mind of quite extraordinary power, which seemed fully aware of my purpose, of the means I was employing—in fact, of everything except my exact whereabouts at the moment. It was intended to shock me into revealing that—simply by showing me, with that jolting abruptness, how very close I stood to being caught.”
“And you didn’t reveal yourself?”
“No,” she laughed nervously. “But I went `akaba’ instead. I was under it for three days and well on my way back to Gull when I came out of it—as a passenger on a commercial ship! Apparently, I had abandoned my own ship on Lycanno and conducted my escape faultlessly and without hesitation. Successfully, at any rate—But I remember nothing, of course.”
“That was quite a brain chasing you then.” Iliff nodded slowly. The akaba condition was a disconcerting defensive trick which had been played on him on occasion by members of other telepathic races. The faculty was common to most of them, completely involuntary, and affected the pursuer more or less as if he had been closing in on a glow of mental light and suddenly saw that light vanish without a trace.
The Departmental Lab’s theory was that under the stress of a psychic attack which was about to overwhelm the individual telepath, a kind of racial Overmind took over automatically and conducted its member-mind’s escape from the emergency, if that was at all possible, with complete mechanical efficiency before restoring it to awareness of itself. It was only a theory since the Overmind, if it existed, left no slightest traces of its work—except the brief void of one of the very few forms of complete and irreparable amnesia known. For some reason, as mysterious as the rest of it, the Overmind never intervened if the threatened telepath had been physically located by the pursuer.
* * *
They stared at each other thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled at the same instant.
“Do you believe now,” Pagadan challenged, “that this task is worthy of the efforts of a Vegan Zone Agent and his shipload of specialists?”
“I’ve been afraid of that right along,” Iliff said without enthusiasm. “But look, you seem to know a lot more about Galactic Zones than you’re really supposed to. Like that business about our shipload of specialists—that kind of information is to be distributed only `at or above Zone Agent levels.’ Where did you pick it up?”
“On Jeltad—above Zone Agent levels,” Pagadan replied undisturbed. “Quite a bit above, as a matter of fact! The occasion was social. And now that I’ve put you in your place, when do you intend to investigate Deel? I’ve become casually acquainted with him and could arrange a meeting at almost any time.”
Iliff rubbed his chin. “Well, as to that,” he said, “Trader Casselmath dropped in to see a few of Deel’s business associates immediately after landing today. They were quite fascinated by the samples of perfume he offered them—he does carry an excellent line of the stuff, you know, though rather high-priced. So Deel turned up too, finally. You’ll be interested to hear he’s using a new kind of mind-shield now.”
She was not surprised. “They were warned, naturally, from Lycanno. The mentality there knew I had been investigating Deel.”
“Well, it shows the Brain wasn’t able to identify you too closely, because they’re waiting for you to pick up your research at this end again. The shield was hair-triggered to give off some kind of alarm. Old Casselmath couldn’t be expected to recognize that, of course. He took a poke at it, innocently enough—just trying to find out how far Deel and company could be swindled.”
She leaned forward, eyes gleaming black with excitement. “What happened?”
Iliff shrugged. “Nothing at all obvious. But somebody did come around almost immediately to look Casselmath over. In fact, they pulled his simple mind pretty well wide open, though the old boy never noticed it. Then they knew he was harmless and went away.”
Pagadan frowned faintly.
“No,” Iliff said, “it wasn’t the Brain. These were stooges, though clever ones—probably the same that were on guard when you probed Tahmey-Deel the first time. But they’ve been alerted now, and I don’t think we could do any more investigating around Deel without being spotted. After your experience on Lycanno, it seems pretty likely that the answers are all there, anyway.”
She nodded slowly. “That’s what I think. So we go to Lycanno!”
* * *
Iliff shook his head. “Just one of us goes,” he corrected her. And before her flash of resentment could be voiced he added smoothly, “That’s for my own safety as much as for yours. The Brain must have worked out a fairly exact pattern of your surface mentality by now. You couldn’t get anywhere near him without being discovered. If we’re together, that means I’m discovered, too.”
She thought it over, shrugged very humanly and admitted, “I suppose you’re right. What am I to do?”
“You’re to keep a discreet watch—a very discreet watch—on Deel and his guardians. How Deel manages to be Tahmey, or part of him, at the same time is something the Brain’s going to have to explain to us; and if he has a guilty conscience, as he probably has, he may decide to let the evidence disappear. In that case, try to keep a line on where they take Deel—but don’t, under any circumstances, take any direct action until I get back from Lycanno.”