XX.
"From the beginning now," Kerk said. "And leave out nothing."
"There is very little more that I can add to the physical facts. I sawthe animals, understood the message. I even experimented with some ofthem and they reacted to my mental commands. What I must do now is trackdown the source of the orders that keep this war going.
"I'll tell you something that I have never told anyone else. I'm notonly lucky at gambling. I have enough psi ability to alter probabilityin my favor. It's an erratic ability that I have tried to improve forobvious reasons. During the past ten years I managed to study at all ofthe centers that do psi research. Compared to other fields of knowledgeit is amazing how little they know. Basic psi talents can be improved bypractice, and some machines have been devised that act as psionicamplifiers. One of these, used correctly, is a very good directionalindicator."
"You want to build this machine?" Kerk asked.
"Exactly. Build it and take it outside the city in the ship. Any signalstrong enough to keep this centuries-old battle going should be strongenough to track down. I'll follow it, contact the creatures who aresending it, and try to find out why they are doing it. I assume you'llgo along with any reasonable plan that will end this war?"
"Anything reasonable," Kerk said coldly. "How long will it take you tobuild this machine?"
"Just a few days if you have all the parts here," Jason told him.
"Then do it. I'm canceling the flight that's leaving now and I'll keepthe ship here, ready to go. When the machine is built I want you totrack the signal and report back to me."
"Agreed," Jason said, standing up. "As soon as I have this hole in myback looked at I'll draw up a list of things needed."
A grim, unsmiling man named Skop was assigned to Jason as a combinationguide and guard. He took his job very seriously, and it didn't takeJason long to realize that he was a prisoner-at-large. Kerk had acceptedhis story, but that was no guarantee that he believed it. At a singleword from him, the guard could turn executioner.
The chill thought hit Jason that undoubtedly this was what would happen.Whether Kerk accepted the story or not--he couldn't afford to take achance. As long as there was the slightest possibility Jason hadcontacted the grubbers, he could not be allowed to leave the planetalive. The woods people were being simple if they thought a plan thisobvious might succeed. Or had they just gambled on the very long chanceit might work? _They_ certainly had nothing to lose by it.
Only half of Jason's mind was occupied with the work as he drew up alist of materials he would need for the psionic direction finder. Histhoughts plodded in tight circles, searching for a way out that didn'texist. He was too deeply involved now to just leave. Kerk would see tothat. Unless he could find a way to end the war and settle the grubberquestion he was marooned on Pyrrus for life. A very short life.
When the list was ready he called Supply. With a few substitutions,everything he might possibly need was in stock, and would be sent over.Skop sank into an apparent doze in his chair and Jason, his head proppedagainst the pull of gravity by one arm, began a working sketch of hismachine.
Jason looked up suddenly, aware of the silence. He could hear machineryin the building and voices in the hall outside. What kind of silencethen--?
Mental silence. He had been so preoccupied since his return to the citythat he hadn't noticed the complete lack of any kind of psi sensation.The constant wash of animal reactions was missing, as was the vaguetactile awareness of his PK. With sudden realization he remembered thatit was always this way inside the city.
He tried to listen with his mind--and stopped almost before he began.There was a constant press of thought about him that he was made awareof when he reached out. It was like being in a vessel far beneath theocean, with your hand on the door that held back the frighteningpressure. Touching the door, without opening it, you could feel thestresses, the power pushing in and waiting to crush you. It was this waywith the psi pressure on the city. The unvoiced hate-filled screams ofPyrrus would instantly destroy any mind that received them. Somefunction of his brain acted as a psi-circuit breaker, shutting offawareness before his mind could be blasted. There was just enoughleak-through to keep him aware of the pressure--and supply the rawmaterials for his constant nightmares.
There was only one fringe benefit. The lack of thought pressure made iteasier for him to concentrate. In spite of his fatigue the diagramdeveloped swiftly.
* * * * *
Meta arrived late that afternoon, bringing the parts he had ordered. Sheslid the long box onto the workbench, started to speak, but changed hermind and said nothing. Jason looked up at her and smiled.
"Confused?" he asked.
"I don't know what you mean," she said, "I'm not confused. Just annoyed.The regular trip has been canceled and our supply schedule will bethrown off for months to come. And instead of piloting or perimeterassignment all I can do is stand around and wait for you. Then takesome silly flight following your directions. Do you wonder that I'mannoyed?"
Jason carefully set the parts out on the chassis before he spoke. "As Isaid, you're confused. I can point out how you're confused--which willmake you even more confused. A temptation that I frankly find hard toresist."
She looked across the bench at him, frowning. One finger unconsciouslycurling and uncurling a short lock of hair. Jason liked her this way. Asa Pyrran operating at full blast she had as much personality as a gearin a machine. Once out of that pattern she reminded him more of the girlhe had known on that first flight to Pyrrus. He wondered if it waspossible to really get across to her what he meant.
"I'm not being insulting when I say 'confused,' Meta. With yourbackground you couldn't be any other way. You have an insularpersonality. Admittedly, Pyrrus is an unusual island with a lot ofhigh-power problems that you are an expert at solving. That doesn't makeit any less of an island. When you face a cosmopolitan problem you areconfused. Or even worse, when your island problems are put into a biggercontext. That's like playing your own game, only having the rules changeconstantly as you go along."
"You're talking nonsense," she snapped at him. "Pyrrus isn't an islandand battling for survival is definitely not a game."
"I'm sorry," he smiled. "I was using a figure of speech, and a badlychosen one at that. Let's put the problem on more concrete terms. Takean example. Suppose I were to tell you that over there, hanging from thedoorframe, was a stingwing--"
Meta's gun was pointing at the door before he finished the last word.There was a crash as the guard's chair went over. He had jumped from ahalf-doze to full alertness in an instant, his gun also searching thedoorframe.
"That was just an example," Jason said. "There's really nothing there."The guard's gun vanished and he scowled a look of contempt at Jason, ashe righted the chair and dropped into it.
"You both have proved yourself capable of handling a Pyrran problem."Jason continued. "But what if I said that there is a thing hanging fromthe doorframe that _looks_ like a stingwing, but is really a kind oflarge insect that spins a fine silk that can be used to weave clothes?"
The guard glared from under his thick eyebrows at the empty doorframe,his gun whined part way out, then snapped back into the holster. Hegrowled something inaudible at Jason, then stamped into the outer room,slamming the door behind him. Meta frowned in concentration and lookedpuzzled.
"It couldn't be anything except a stingwing," she finally said. "Nothingelse could possibly look like that. And even if it didn't spin silk, itwould bite if you got near, so you would have to kill it." She smiledwith satisfaction at the indestructible logic of her answer.
"Wrong again," Jason said. "I just described the mimic-spinner thatlives on Stover's Planet. It imitates the most violent forms of lifethere, does such a good job that it has no need for other defenses.It'll sit quietly on your hand and spin for you by the yard. If Idropped a shipload of them here on Pyrrus, you never could be sure whento shoot, could you?"
"But the
y are not here now," Meta insisted.
"Yet they could be quite easily. And if they were, all the rules of yourgame would change. Getting the idea now? There are some fixed laws andrules in the galaxy--but they're not the ones you live by. Your rule iswar unending with the local life. I want to step outside your rule bookand end that war. Wouldn't you like that? Wouldn't you like an existencethat was more than just an endless battle for survival? A life with achance for happiness, love, music, art--all the enjoyable things youhave never had the time for."
All the Pyrran sternness was gone from her face as she listened to whathe said, letting herself follow these alien concepts. He had put hishand out automatically as he talked, and had taken hers. It was warm andher pulse fast to his touch.
Meta suddenly became conscious of his hand and snapped hers away, risingto her feet at the same time. As she started blindly towards the door,Jason's voice snapped after her.
"The guard, Skop, ran out because he didn't want to lose his precioustwo-value logic. It's all he has. But you've seen other parts of thegalaxy, Meta, you know there is a lot more to life thankill-and-be-killed on Pyrrus. You feel it is true, even if you won'tadmit it."
She turned and ran out the door.
Jason looked after her, his hand scraping the bristle on his chinthoughtfully. "Meta, I have the faint hope that the woman is winningover the Pyrran. I think that I saw--perhaps for the first time in thehistory of this bloody war-torn city--a tear in one of its citizen'seyes."