Doggins, who was still wide awake, asked: “What for?”
“I want to try something.”
Doggins pulled it from his pocket. “Be careful. It’s getting low, but it could still set the place on fire.”
Niall returned to the kitchen. He knelt down, pointing the blaster at the edge of the slimy mass, and pulled the trigger. The blue lightning filled the air with the smell of ozone. A six-inch area of the fungus turned into black charcoal. The rest of the fungus shuddered and contracted with alarm. And as this happened, the pulse itself faltered. Then the grey protoplasm withdrew from the carbonised area, leaving it stuck to the floor. The creature went on feeding as if nothing had happened. It lacked the intelligence to flee.
Yet it had told Niall what he wanted to know. As the blast had struck it, Niall had been able to sense a momentary interruption of the pulse, revealing that it was aware of the attack. There was a two-way relation between the fungus and the energy-source.
Five minutes later, the fungus ceased to feed. Moving very slowly, it slid from under the table with a contractile motion, not unlike a slug, and reared up against the wall. Nothing remained of Cyprian’s body; on the slime-covered tiles, there were only a few buttons and other indigestible objects. Niall pointed the blaster at the creature, tempted to destroy it; only the thought of the smell deterred him. It seemed to sense his intention and moved up the wall with surprising swiftness; a few moments later, it had disappeared through the hole in the ceiling.
Idly, merely in order to observe the effect, Niall concentrated his will and ordered the creature to stop moving. Although it was now invisible, he could sense its presence. He could also sense its reluctance to obey. Its one desire was to retreat to some dark, damp corner and digest the food it had absorbed so efficiently. Using the thought mirror to direct and concentrate his will, Niall ordered it to return. It started to do so, and a grey tentacle appeared around the edge of the hole. And at that point, the energy-pulse intervened, and countermanded Niall’s order; the tentacle withdrew. Now thoroughly intrigued, Niall concentrated his inner-force and again ordered it to return. For a moment, a kind of tug of war ensued. Then the energy-source seemed to give way. The reason, Niall was convinced, was that it sensed that nothing important was at issue. The fungus wriggled through the hole, and started to cross the ceiling.
Niall had lost interest, and he relaxed his will. He expected the creature to stop, then to retreat. Instead, it continued to wriggle across the ceiling, then down the wall. Puzzled, he continued to watch its progress. It reached the floor, then flowed across the tiles, brushing aside chunks of fallen plaster, and reached his feet. He pointed the blaster, prepared to destroy it if it made any attempt to attack. But it merely waited there, an enormous, pulsating mass of semi-vegetable, semi-liquid greyness, waiting for further orders. With astonishment, Niall realised that it had come to accept him as the source of its instructions. Suddenly, the temptation to destroy it had disappeared. Instead, Niall ordered it to return. Once again, he relaxed his will as soon as he had given the order. But the fungus retreated obediently up the wall and vanished through its hole.
Now the kitchen was empty, it seemed pointless to leave the lamp burning. Niall leaned over, cupped one hand over the bulb-like chimney and blew it out. A grey light filtered through the dusty window pane, and when he peered upward past the railings he could see the first rays of sunlight striking the clouds above the eastern rooftops. With a contraction of alarm, he realised that the lamp had been visible from the street. He stood there for perhaps five minutes, staring up into the greyness; then, seeing no sign of movement, went back into the other room. Doggins was the only one awake. He accepted the blaster without comment and pushed it back into his pocket.
Niall said: “It will soon be daylight.”
“Thank God for that.” Doggins stretched and yawned, then clapped his hands. “All right, boys, time to get up. With luck we’ll be home for breakfast.” He went to the nearest window and peered through the curtains. “We’ll get started in ten minutes.”
They woke with sighs and yawns, but all became instantly alert when they remembered where they were.
Milo went to the kitchen and a moment later called out: “Cyprian has gone!”
Doggins said irritably: “We already know that. We’ll talk about it later. Get ready to leave.”
But Milo’s words had introduced a sense of foreboding, and it hung over them as they stood up and rubbed the sleep out of their eyes. They had lost their eagerness to venture out into the dawn.
Doggins said: “Now before we set out, I want to say something, and I want you all to listen as if your lives depended on it. Now listen.” He held up the Reaper. “This weapon is more than a match for any spider. With this in your hands, you could defy an army of spiders. But remember that it’s just as dangerous to human beings as to spiders. One false move, and you’ve killed the man standing in front of you — or, worse still, sliced off his arm or leg. So if we’re attacked, don’t panic. Keep your nerve, and don’t pull the trigger until you can see your way clear. Don’t take any risks.
“Now there’s one more thing I want to say. You may be afraid that a spider can paralyse your will before you can pull the trigger. So I want to tell you something that I’ve been keeping to myself. I realised a long time ago that this willpower of the spiders isn’t as irresistible as we think. In fact it’s a mistake to call it will-power. It’s more like a force of suggestion.” It was obvious that they were puzzled and doubtful. Doggins smiled reassuringly. “Look, why do you obey me when I give you an order? I don’t force you to obey it, do I? You do it because you’ve come to accept the idea that I give the orders. Suppose somebody came up behind you and shouted in your ear “Stand up straight!” You’d probably obey — but not because of his will-power. You’d obey because you’ve been taught to obey orders. Now I’ll tell you what I believe. I believe that when a spider paralyses your will, it sends out a kind of beam of suggestion, and the beam affects your subconscious mind. You could say it’s a kind of hypnotism, if you know what that means. But you can refuse to be hypnotised. And with one of these things in your hands, you’ve got a damn good reason for refusing.
“So next time a spider tries to paralyse your will, don’t let it get away with it. Fight back. Tell yourself there’s nothing to be afraid of.
“All right, that’s enough. When that door is open, I’ll go first. Follow me one by one. Niall, you come last. Set your weapons to one, but don’t fire unless I give the order. Crispin, move that chair out of the way. Then Milo open the door.”
Niall said: “Wait. . .”
Because his mind was still open to the vibrations of the energy-pulse, he sensed what was about to happen even as the fair-haired youth took a step towards the chair. It was like the breath of wind that signals the coming of a hurricane. Instinctively, he contracted his will as if tensing to receive a blow. So when the paralysis struck a moment later, like a chain of freezing metal, his own mind was already clenched like a fist. In that brief moment of preparation, he knew that Doggins was right. The will-force of the spiders was like an order suddenly bellowed into the depths of the mind. But although his muscles felt as though he had been plunged into freezing water, his will remained unaffected. When he reached up to push forward the safety catch of the Reaper, his fingers felt numb and frozen, yet they obeyed his will.
The door was being pushed open with such force that the heavy armchair began to move even though it was wedged under the handle. Niall waited calmly, his finger curled round the trigger. But a movement made him glance sideways. Doggins’ face seemed to be distorted with agony, and his lips were drawn back from his clenched teeth. He looked like a man struggling to raise some enormous weight. Then his arm jerked, and blue flame leapt from the muzzle of his gun, sliced through the back of the armchair and penetrated the door. A moment later, Niall also fired into the widening gap.
Instantly, the will-force snapped, leaving them free. Niall darted forward and pushed the chair back against the door; it encountered no resistance. The others were staggering drunkenly and some stumbled or fell to the floor. Doggins turned and grinned at them.