Hammell glanced uneasily out into the clearing. “What were you thinking of?”
“Well,” said Roberts, “the immediate problem here is that the fanatics and the computer are opposed. Either one, if successful, can destroy the other. The enmity has to be gotten around somehow inside of three hours or so, or we are right on the edge of a crisis that can mean the death of millions of people.”
“Yes,” said Hammell, “I see the problem. But where’s the solution?”
Roberts said, “Why do we get unexpected reactions from the people in the city when we beam desires at them? Isn’t it because their thought processes are different?”
“Sure,” said Hammell exasperatedly. “But how do we—”
“We have to affect, not only the emotions, but the thought processes, too. The want-generator affects only the emotions. We’ve got to reach their minds.”
Morrissey looked puzzled.
Hammell said, “I can see, with the guns on that patrol ship of yours, that you can reach their bodies. But how you get at their minds—”
“When you and your brother,” said Roberts, “are about to shoot each other, it really breaks up the family quarrel fast if you find some outsider waiting around to shoot the survivor.”
“Yeah,” said Hammell, frowning, “that’s a point. You mean, we make ourselves the villains, in order to unite them?”
“Once we’re the villains, will they listen to us?”
Hammell looked momentarily foolish. “Then how do we do it?”
“Obviously, somebody else has to be the villain.”
“Who? There are only the three of us.”
Roberts thought a moment. “How’s ‘Oggbad’ sound?”
Morrissey said blankly, “Who in space is Oggbad?”
“If we’re going to have a villain,” said Roberts, “I fail to see why any of us has to be stuck with the job. Let Oggbad do it.”
“Who’s Oggbad?” said Morrissey.
“Do what?” said Hammell.
Roberts said, “Amongst other things, attack the city. Can you think of any better way to get our advice listened to than by a demonstration of what the fiend Oggbad is up to?”
Morrissey looked at Hammell. “Have we missed this much sleep?”
Hammell shook his head. “We can follow it this far: a) The city is divided into two warring factions. b) We’ve got to unite them to straighten out the mess. c) An outside menace is the best way to unite them. d) We don’t want to play the part of this outside menace ourselves, because that would debar us from taking any direct part in the situation. e) Therefore, somebody else should do it—I suppose Oggbad is as good as anybody; but, in the first place, where do we get Oggbad? And how do we provide Oggbad with an army to attack the city? And, just incidentally, that computer may be stupid in dealing with people, but that doesn’t mean it can’t check facts. We’ve got to convince both sides. How do we outwit the computer? And best of all, how do we do all this in three hours or less?”
Roberts said patiently, “With a decent night’s sleep, all this should be obvious. Who says we’ve got to have a real villain? A real villain is likely to get out of hand and complicate the situation when you want to simplify it. Oggbad is strictly a fiction of our imaginations.”
“Your imagination,” said Hammell.
“But,” said Roberts, “Oggbad is to appear real, to the city. This he will accomplish by attacking the city.”
Morrissey said earnestly, “How does a figment of your imagination attack the city?”
“Take a look out that porthole,” said Roberts. “As we should know, there are beasts out in that forest that can create chaos in nothing flat. Do you mean to tell me you don’t see how Oggbad can attack the city?
“But,” said Hammell, “to lead the animals—How does he—”
* * *
Morrissey gave a sudden start. “Ye gods. We must need sleep. We’ve already seen that the want-generator affects the animals. If that holds true, we can control the animals!”
“I don’t mean that,” said Hammell. “How do we explain, so it convinces the computer, among others, that this Oggbad can influence the animals?”
“Obviously,” said Roberts, “the only conceivable ways are for Oggbad to be either a great animal trainer, a great biologist, or a great sorcerer. And if the story is going to have to stand the computer’s scrutiny, I’m in favor of putting in broad claims right at the beginning, so if the computer is going to choke on it, we find it out immediately.”
“Hm-m-m,” said Morrissey. “How is the computer, based on science, going to judge a sorcerer?”
Hammell said thoughtfully, “There are rumors of planets run by . . . ah . . . if not sorcery, something just as good.”
“Exactly,” said Roberts. “That’s what I want to take advantage of.”
Morrissey shook his head. “This part starts to make sense to me, but there’s a catch. Kelty saw you and Hammell when we were here before. So did the computer’s surveillance system. The technicians have seen all three of us. How do we explain that a cargo-ship captain, his cargo-control officer, and his communications officer, are tangled up in a fight with this Oggbad?”
“Frankly,” said Roberts, “I’m a little sick of being a cargo-ship captain. I don’t think a cargo-ship captain is going to have much impact on them, anyway. If we’re going to deal with the city, let’s deal with them on nothing less than an equal basis. I’m not interested in going through another dose of what we got the last time.”
Hammell nodded, but Morrissey still shook his head. “They’ve got records of our last visit.”
“That won’t do them much good,” said Roberts, “if every time they see us, we’re inside a suit of battle armor.”
For the first time, Morrissey smiled. “Yes, that’s a point. But how do we explain—”
“If we get things on the right basis to start with, I don’t think they’re going to ask for too many explanations.”
Hammell said, “Are you going to say we’re investigative officers of some kind?”
“No, because then we have to say what bureau we’re working for, and so on. I’m in favor of our appropriating so much rank, right at the start, that it jars them back on their heels, makes them listen when we talk, and makes them hesitate before asking any questions. If we’re going to get them out of this mess, I fail to see why we have to do it on bended knee. The last time we were here, the animals tried to eat us, the plants tried to smother us, the people threw bottles and chunks of cement at us, and the roboids slapped us in prison. This time, let them accommodate themselves to us. I don’t know what you guys intend to be, but as far as I’m concerned, I aim to get a little satisfaction out of this mess. I’m going to be Vaughan the Terrible, Duke of Trasimere, and I’m on the trail of the evil prince and sorcerer Oggbad the Foul, and if anyone disbelieves or doubts my word, I’ll punish his impertinence with a couple of blasts from my fusion guns, which are real.”
Hammell grinned. “Between the fantastic story, and the real power, it would be possible for the computer to get tied in knots.”
Morrissey said, “And there’s nothing to prevent our beaming ‘desire to believe’ at the people. The computer won’t be affected, but we should be able to so tie up that computer that it doesn’t know what to accept and what to reject.”
“That’s it,” said Roberts.
Hammell said, “Time’s passing. This seems to hang together. Let’s try it and see what happens.”
Morrissey nodded. “Let’s get started.”
“O.K.,” said Roberts.
He got into the battle armor to go back to the patrol ship.
* * *
Roberts had intended to make a few slapdash preparations, such as smearing some fresh paint over the Interstellar Patrol identification of the ship—which always showed through any covering he put over it, but the symbiotic computer immediately took a hand.
“Effacing the patrol ship designation without good reason is prohibited.”
“I have good reason,” said Roberts promptly.
“What?” demanded the computer.
Roberts, stupefied at this last-minute delay, gave a quick explanation, and waited angrily for the next piece of obstruction.
“Excellent,” said the symbiotic computer. “The plan shows admirable insight into the nature of the problem. However, you evidently have neglected to study your ‘Patrol Ship Special Board Number Three—Typical Ship and Equipment Disguises and Physical Aspects of Stratagems.’ A demonstration is in order. Press down the blue lever numbered ‘3’ at the left of the control panel.”
Roberts hesitated. Beads of sweat popped out on his brow. Then he took control of himself, stopped thinking what the last demonstration had been like, and pushed down blue lever number “3” at the left of the control panel.
At once, there was a hum, and a clank from the weapons lockers where, among other things, the suits of battle armor were stored. From outside came a low whirring noise and a faint sliding sound. Then there was a continuous low rumble, followed by an odd noise Roberts couldn’t place. Then the ship lifted.