you on that; I’m not the genius type.”
“Neither am I!” Seaton snorted. “In my book one flash-in-the-pan hunch does not
make a genius . . . But here’s another angle, fella. If this thing can be worked out it’ll
be so much better than that synchronization idea that it isn’t funny. Also, it might not
take the years to work out. Don’t you think it’ll be worth while, Mart, to spend a few
days seeing if we can set it up as a problem? See if we can take it out of the pure
brainstorm category before we spring it on Rovol?”
“I do indeed,” and Seaton and Crane both went down to the control room and got into
their master controllers. However; before that task was finished there was a surprise for
Richard Seaton.
27 CO-BELLIGERENTS
“DuQuesne calling Seaton reply … ”
Since Seaton’s head was inside his master controller, no speaker sounded. Since
everything pertaining to DuQuesne was on file in the Brain’s memory banks, there was
no delay whatever in making the proper connections: Seaton cut in before the first send
of the message; short as it was, was completed.
“What the hell, DuQuesne!” his thought blazed out. “I didn’t think even you would have
the sublime guts to call on me again!”
“Save it, Seaton. This is important. Do you know how many solar systems of Chlorans
there are in that galaxy where your Skylark of Valeron got burned out?”
Seaton paused for one microsecond. Then, cautiously: “No idea. Hundred, maybe. Or,
in view of this-thousands?”
“You aren’t even warm. My apparatus put one hundred forty-nine million three hundred
nineteen thousand two hundred ninety-seven of them into my tank before my scanners
went out. And they hadn’t covered a quarter of the galaxy yet.”
“Je . . .” Seaton began, but shut himself up. Dorothy was listening in. “But to be able to
use a sixth-order analsynth that long you must have had a little more … okay, gimme
the dope.”
DuQuesne told his story, including his superpowered DQ and his Fenachrone crew,
concluding, “We knocked out over fifteen thousand of them before I had to run. But of
course that wasn’t a drop in the proverbial bucket. Worse, I doubt like the devil if any
mobile base possible to build can ever get that close to them again. Apparently they
sync in just enough stuff-no matter how much it takes-to cope with the maximum
observed threat.”
“Could be. But how come you are interested? I know damn well what you want.”
“Not any more you don’t,” snapped DuQuesne’s thought
“With every two-bit Tom, Dick, and Harry of a race in all space having atomic energy
already, what’s the chance of a monopoly? So what good is Earth or anything else in
the First Galaxy? I’ve changed my plans-you and Crane can both live forever, as far as
I’m concerned.”
Seaton absorbed and filed that statement-guardedly. He only said:
“So what? Why should you give a whoop about the Chlorans? Don’t tell me you’re
altruistic all of a sudden.” “You apparently don’t see the point. Listen-the Fenachrone
talked about mastering the cosmos. That race of Chlorans is quietly and unobtrusively
doing it. It may be too late to stop them; and I didn’t help matters a bit by making them
double or quadruple their synchronized output. You and I are, as far as we know,
humanity’s ablest operators. Each of us has stuff the other lacks. If you and I together
can’t stop them it can’t-as of now-be done. What do you say?”
Seaton pondered. What was DuQuesne’s angle this time? Or was the ape actually on
the up and up? It did make sense, though-even though he was a louse and a heel and
a case-hardened egomaniac, if it came down to a choice of which was going to be
wiped out, those monsters or humanity … sure he would …
“Okay, Blackie. You give your word?”
“I give my word to act as one of your party until this Chloran thing is settled, one way or
the other.”
A few days later, the ultra-fast speedster that Seaton had left on Ray-See-Nee hailed
the Valeron, matched velocities with her, and was drawn aboard. Three women disem-
barked; one of whom was Kay-Lee Barlo. She introduced her black-haired mother,
Madame Barlo; who, with the added poise and maturity of her extra twenty-odd years,
was even better-looking than her daughter. She in turn introduced her mother, Grand
Dame Barlo, who did not have a single white hair in her thick brown thatch and who did
not look more than half as old as she must in reality have been.
“But, listen,” Seaton said. “You couldn’t use any sixth order stuff at first, so you must
have been on the way for weeks. What happened? Trouble with the Chlorans?”
He had been talking to Kay-Lee, but her mother, who was very evidently the head of the
party, answered him. “Oh, no. That is, they’ve tripled the quotas-” Seaton shot a glance
at Crane. That tied in!-“but with the new machinery that did not bother us at all. No. We
learned many weeks ago that you would have need of us, so we came.”
“Huh?” Seaton demanded, inelegantly. “What need?” “We do not surely know. All we
know is that it is written upon the Scroll that a time of need will come, and soon. All
Ray-See-Nee is enormously and eternally in your debt: we are here to repay a tiny
portion of that debt.”
“Can’t you tell me more about it than that?”
“A little; not much. We received your original message, but at that time there was
nothing to connect it with you as Ky-El Mokak. In studying it we encountered something
unknown upon Ray-See-Nee that increased a hundredfold our range and scope and
strength: three male poles of power of tremendous magnitude, men who, we found out
later, you already know. They are Drasnik and Fodan of the planet Norlamin and
Sacner Carfon of Dasor. With three such pairs of poles of power-three is the one
perfect number, you know-it was a simple matter to locate those interested in your
message, to develop the powers that had been latent in such people as yourself-”
“What?” Seaton yelped. That was all he could get out. “-and Dr. DuQuesne and others,
yes,” Madame Barlo went on smoothly. “You were, of course, not aware you possessed
them.”
“That’s putting it mildly, ace,” said Seaton. “You mean l am … I hate to use the word …
well, `psychic’?”
“The word is of no importance,” said the woman impatiently. “Use any word you like.
The fact is that you do have this power; we have developed it . . . and we now propose
to put it to use.”
Seaton’s reply to that has not been recorded for posterity. Perhaps it is as well. Let it
only be said that even twenty-four hours later he was no more than half-convinced …
but it was the half of him that was convinced that was governing his actions.
One of the data that helped convince him was the fact that Madame Barlo and her
daughter had not merely located these “poles of power”-they had summoned them to
the Skylark! They had not waited for Seaton’s concurrence; before Seaton even knew
what they were up to, all the named individuals from three galaxies and a dozen planets
were on the way.
A shipload of Norlaminians and Dasorians-including the three pre-eminent “male poles
of power”-was the contingent first to arrive. Then came Tammon and Sennlloy and
Mergon and Luloy and half a hundred other Jelmi; bringing with them three Tellurians:
Madlyn Mannis, the red-haired stripper; Doctor Stephanie de Marigny of the Rare
Metals Laboratory; and Charles K. van der Gleiss, Petrochemical Engineer T-8. And
last, but by less than an hour, came Marc C. DuQuesne in person.
“Hi, Hunkie,” he said, shaking hands cordially. “A little out of your regular orbit? Like
me?”
“More than a little, Blackie-like you.” She showed two deep dimples in a wide and
friendly smile. “And if you have any idea of what I’m here for I’d be delighted to have
you tell me what it is.”
“I scarcely know what I’m here for myself,” and DuQuesne turned to the others; nodding
at them as though he had left them only minutes before. He was no whit embarrassed
or ill at ease; nor conscious of any resentment or ill will directed at him. He was actually
as unconcerned as, and bore himself very much like, a world-renowned specialist called
into consultation on an unusually difficult case.
Before the situation could become strained, the three Rayseenian women came into the
big conference room and approached the conference table-a table forty feet long and
three feet wide.
Their faces were white; their eyes were wide and staring. All three were doped to the
ears. “Doctor Seaton,” Madam Barlo said, “you will cover the top of this table with one