Byron, or you’ll wind up square behind the eight-ball.”
Punsunby wriggled and squirmed all the way to The World; but his every idea was
crushed by Cantwell’s relentless logic. Therefore, as soon as the starship landed, the
two Supreme Beings of The World went directly to the immense building housing
Information Central and donned the gorgeously-colored, heavily-jeweled regalia of their
respective positions. Punsunby sat on the splendidly ornate Throne of The Company;
Cantwell on a much smaller and somewhat plainer throne at his master’s feet.
Punsunby put on a wisely beneficent smile, Cantwell pressed a hidden switch, and each
of the thousands of Agents in Information Central’s vast building was bathed both in the
pure mercury-vapor Light of the Company and in the warmth and abundance of the
Company’s good will. Each put hands on head; each was suffused with happiness at this
all-too-rare personal contact with The Company Itself.
“Children of the Company-my children-be happy,” Punsunby told the raptly-listening
thousands. “In view of the unprecedented difficulties which the World is now
experiencing, The Company decrees that Article Ninety of its Second Directive is
amended by the addition to it of Section Fifty Six, as follows: `All members of all
Mentalist castes in category A A A are permitted and directed to work, with no effect
upon caste, at whatever undertakings and in whatever fashions Highest Agent A A A A A
A B shall set up and direct.’ Be happy children.”
The Company lights all went out, the golden thrones sank down through the golden floor,
and Punsunby whirled on Cantwell.
“I hope to hell that does it!” he snapped. “Now let’s shed this junk and get me going back
to Earth!”
Deston and his crew were not interested in Punsunby himself. What they wanted was the
coordinates of The World. Thus they were on the lookout for, and were checking up on,
every starship approaching Tellus. Thus, even before Cantwell’s subspacer landed, they
had learned everything that Cantwell himself had ever known about The World and had
put the Explorer into orbit around The World’s sun. And thus, long before the disguised
psychologists of The World had made any significant progress in their investigations, the
Galaxians were ready to go to work.
“Shall we take a quick peek at Information Central?” Deston asked, “To see which of
those colored-headlamped buzzards are doing what to whom?”
“We shall not!” Barbara declared. “If I never know exactly which button a murderer
pushes to kill a perfectly innocent person it will be three days too soon. We can cripple
all the instrumentation of that whole Information Central without. . .” She paused and
frowned. “Exactly,” Jones said. “That would tear it.”
“Well, maybe,” Barbara conceded. “So well hunt up whoever’s causing it and put them
out of business, and then stop it. We know it isn’t the Galaxians, so it must be the
Communists.”
“If we couldn’t find the place, how could they?” Deston asked. His thoughts took a new
turn then, and as he thought his mind-blocks began unconsciously to go up. “Okay, we’ll
hunt ’em up. We know how they work. They won’t be close in-too easy to spot. They’ll be
‘way out somewhere, and quite possibly underground. It will be a job, fine-toothing that
much territory, but there’s a lot of us. We’ll divide it up . . . like this. . .
It was super-sensitive Bernice who finally found the Russians’ carefully-concealed,
deeply-buried headquarters.
“Good going, Bun!” Deston applauded. Then, after a quick probe, he went on. “New
Russia! That’s really one for the book. First thing, let’s get those Company Agents up
here-those two there, I think, are going to be the answer to Maynard’s prayer. Their
language has been sort of-censored?-let’s see how they take to telepathy.”
A C B A and A C B D, being very strong latents and well on the way to making psiontists
of themselves without even knowing that such a science as psiontcs existed, learned
telepathy in seconds. More, they went into a hammer-and-tongs mind-to-mind session
with the Funny Four even while the six leaders were arguing with the other ex-Agents. All
these were latents, however; hence, after the University of Psionics had been explained
to them, they were more or less eager to go. They knew less of reality than even the
little that the two “hunchers” knew; but, like latents everywhere, they did want to learn.
Wherefore, after Barbara had had a flashing exchange of thought with Stella Adams, the
new recruits were delivered to her in her office in the University. Beedy was still bruised
and battered, but no one-except his new wife, of course-paid any more attention to that
than he did himself. Everyone knew all about what had happened, and they all approved
of him and he knew it.
“Babe!” Barbara burst out then. “What’s on your mind? You’ve been blocking solid-give!”
“I didn’t mean to, actually, but I wouldn’t wonder. I don’t like the only possible answer a
bit, and you won’t either. We never even heard of that planet New Russia. And how did
they find this world? I’ve been racking my brains and the only possible answer I can
come up with is that Feodr Ilyowicz has always been a double agent -suckering us but
good, all along.”
“Oh, no!” came a storm of protest, and Jones added, “I can’t buy that bundle, Babe.
There isn’t a psiontist in the outfit. He’d be here himself-no, he couldn’t, at that-but he’d
have somebody on the job here.”
“You’re wrong, Here, he couldn’t.” Cecily shook her head. “Perfect Commie technique.
When did a commissar ever trust a psychic as far as he could throw him? He’d use his
knowledge, yes, but he wouldn’t let him get out of sight.”
“That’s true, Curly,” Deston said. “Anyway, all . . .” “But just look at what he’s doing to
Communist Russia!” Bernice broke in.
“He has to, or he wouldn’t last an hour,” Jones said, grimly. “All that means is that,
compared to a planet and years of time, EastHem’s expendable-for as many years as is
necessary. So I’ll buy it after all. What do we do next? Scout New Russia?”
“I don’t think so, we need dope first, and, as I started to say, we can find out. Flit us to
one of Jupiters’s moons, you Trains, and we’ll put. . .”
“High it, fly-boy, and find the beam!” Jones snapped. “We can’t ‘port those jaspers down
there back to New Russia and we can’t leave ’em here and we can’t very well kill ’em in
cold blood.”
“Okay, Control Six, I’ll try it again,” Deston agreed. “Um . . . um . . . mm. How about
putting ’em-being sure we get ’em all, of course-into an empty hold here in the Explorer?
Keep ’em in durance vile for the duration? Intern ’em?”
“That’s a cogent thought, friend,” Barbara said, and the others agreed. “I wish we could
do a lot worse to ’em than that.”
It was done.
“Can I land now, Control Six?” Deston asked, plaintively, and the others laughed.
“Okay, fly-boy, you’re on the beam now.”
“Thank you, Control Six. As I was saying when I was so rudely interrupted, let’s flit to
somewhere near Tellus: and put the snatch on Ilyowicz and see if our guesses are any
good. No, better let me do the grabbing alone if he has any warning whatever we’ll never
get him, and if I’m wrong about him I’ll apologize abjectly.”
The Russian had no warning whatever. Before he could begin to thing about setting up
the psionic barrier through which no psionic force could act, he was in the Explorer. Nor
did Deston have occasion to apologize. It became evident instantly that Ilyowicz would
fight to the death, and in another instant six of the most powerful minds known to man
were tearing at his mental shields.
He held those shields with everything he had, but he did not have enough. No human mind
could have had enough. His shields failed; and, a moment after their failure, such was the
irresistible flood of mental energy driving inward, Feodr Ilyowicz died. In that moment
before death, however, the six learned much.
He had always been a double agent. He had always lived for Russia, he was dying for
Russia. Not the Russia of Earth-that was expendable-no one cared what happened there
for a few years or a few decades-but the great New Russia that already possessed one
whole planet, was taking possession of another at this moment, and would very soon
possess all the populated planets of civilization. Everything he had learned he had
passed on to New Russia. It had a University of Psionics that would soon surpass that of
Newmars. He had traced Punsunby to The World long ago, and had advised the Premier
himself as to what should be done about it. If it had not been for that stupid oaf
Ovlovetski he would have gone to The World himself and made such arrangements as to