The Mind Thing

suddenly, and they had executed it quickly.

Now if he entered Staunton’s mind he would be helpless until Staunton’s body was untied, and he hesitated and considered. He decided finally that it was safe. The woman couldn’t keep Staunton tied up forever. And if he entered Staunton’s mind now but caused Staunton’s body to continue to sleep he could make good use of the time. He could study Staunton’s most intimate thoughts and memories and by the time—say, in the middle of the night— he let Staunton’s body awaken, he would be able to act the part of Staunton so thoroughly that Miss Talley would suspect nothing and untie him. And then—but the rest of his plans could also be worked out in the long hours he would be immobile in Staunton’s mind while the body slept.

He entered.

And now he encountered something new to him—not in kind, but in degree. Every mind he’d ever entered fought back for a fraction of a second at least. A minor struggle in the case of an animal mind, a severe but brief one in the case of the three human minds he had previously taken over—the two high school boys and the old German farmer.

This fight was no different, except in degree. The struggle lasted for seconds longer than any other he’d engaged in and during it Staunton was still in partial control of his own body. He fought against what was happening and managed to jerk his body up almost to a sitting position and to gasp out: “Under steps. Thing like—”

But then it was over; the mind thing was in control.

* * *

Doc Staunton lay back and breathed deeply a time or two, and then opened his eyes. They met those of Miss Talley, who was standing by the couch staring down at him. He said, normally and casually, “Think I had a touch of nightmare, Miss Talley. Probably from being overtired. Did I make any noises?”

Miss Talley didn’t answer for seconds. Then, very quietly: “You made noises, Doctor—if you are Dr. Staunton. You said, and I quote, ‘Under steps. Thing like—’ and that was all. What was your nightmare about?”

“Good Lord, Miss Talley. How can I remember, except vaguely that it was something about a charging bull and oh, yes, in the nightmare I ran and I was trying to crawl under the front steps to hide from it—in the dream I didn’t have a gun. I think I can go to sleep again now—and let’s hope, no more nightmares.” He closed his eyes.

“Dr. Staunton, you told me that you thought ‘the enemy,’ as you called it, was nearby and could be hiding inside the house. And that you searched the house for it—which would include any area under the staircase inside. Besides, you didn’t say ‘staircase’; you said ‘under steps.’ And there are three steps leading to the front porch and another three leading to the back door. I’m going to look. Now, while it’s still light outside.”

“Miss Talley, that’s ridiculous. A nightmare—”

But he was talking to empty space. Miss Talley was already out the front door, taking the shotgun and the pistol with her. And a flashlight; it was still light outside, but might be dim under the steps.

Outside, after looking up and then around to see if anything was about to attack—she didn’t really think anything would be, but she had to make sure—she looked under the front steps, using the flashlight. She found nothing, but decided she’d investigate more thoroughly, and maybe dig a bit, after she’d made a quick investigation of the steps at the back of the house. She walked around to the rear.

Nothing was under the back steps either, at first glance; then the flashlight found a spot where the dirt looked as though it might have been dug up and then replaced and patted down. Yes, there was the imprint of a hand there, a human hand!

Paying no attention to getting her clothes dirty, she lay flat and wriggled until her head and one arm were under the steps. She clawed and scraped at the area under the hand print. The earth was loose there and moved easily. She felt—something. It could have been the shell of a turtle—except that turtles do not burrow, especially in dry ground. She came up with something, whatever it was, and pulled it out as she backed away. It was something like a turtle except that there were no open places for legs and head and tail— And on second glance it looked—alien.

She dropped it in revulsion, put the muzzle of the pistol against the center of what would have been the carapace, and fired.

Inside the house, Dr. Staunton screamed, as though in agony. She ran around to the front—since the back door was bolted—and into the house. She’d forgotten the shotgun but still had the pistol in her hand.

He was on the floor instead of on the couch, but he was lying quietly, a peaceful smile—a beatific smile—on his face. He said, “You did it, Miss Talley. That was he—and won’t the terrestrial doctors have fun dissecting him, the first extraterrestrial life form they ever have had a chance at. A brain in a shell, and not much more. Not even digestive organs; he absorbed food by osmosis.

“Don’t untie me, Miss Talley. It would be all right to, but you can’t know it yet. Just let me talk. Lord, do I have things to talk about! And such important things that I feel as though I’ll never sleep again.”

He sighed. “Poor little alien. All he wanted was to get home—but it wouldn’t have been good for the human race if he had. You see, Miss Talley, he was in my mind, after that short struggle when I managed to hold him off long enough to get out a few important words—and thank you for interpreting them correctly”—he shivered at the recollection—“but I was in his mind too. I know everything that he knew. Including, although that’s a long story, why he chose each of the hosts, human and otherwise, that he used, and the purpose for which he used it, or tried to use it.”

“Where was he from—another planet in the solar system?”

“No, a planet of a very far star. One we’ll stay away from for a long, long time. Do you want to know what else I learned, Miss Talley?”

She didn’t even have to nod; the expression on her face was answer enough.

Doc said quietly, reverently, “A science new to us, one we haven’t even suspected. Space travel without tears. We can scratch rockets; they’re obsolete. With what I know now, we’ll be in space within a year. Colonizing anything colonizable within two years—and not only possibly colonizable places in the solar system—anywhere; distance doesn’t matter. We can hit a planet of Alpha Centauri—or any other star—as easily as we can move to the moon.

“And, Miss Talley, anyone can go—once the bright and strong young spacemen we’ll develop have established that a planet is habitable and safe, even for people our age. Miss Talley, will you come with me and be my secretary and good right hand while I work things out?

“And—oh, say three years from now would you like to do a bit of planet-hopping with me? Quick shots to Mars and Venus, say, for a starter—they’ll have to be quickies because we’ll have to wear space suits—and then— anywhere, anywhere in the universe, or maybe just in the local galaxy for a start, where there are approximately Earth-type planets, ones we can spend at least a few days on without having to live in an artificial environment… Where would you like to go first, Miss Talley?”

She believed him, but she’d probably have untied him even if she’d been in doubt. She untied his ankles first and then he rolled onto his side so she could get at the knots on his wrists. He sat up, then moved to the sofa.

He asked, since she hadn’t answered his first question—she couldn’t; she’d have choked trying—“Is it a deal, Miss Talley?”

A simple yes she could say, and did say, fervently. But Dr. Staunton couldn’t have heard it; when he’d finished asking his question, and before her quick answer, there intervened—a gentle snore. Dr. Staunton was sound asleep.

Miss Talley stared at him for a long moment. Then she went to the door, opened it, and went out onto the porch, carrying no weapon, knowing that she was safe.

She stared up at the sky; it was early dusk and a few stars, the brightest ones, were already visible. Soon there’d be the thousands of visible ones, out of the trillions—

Her life, except for reading, had been dull—but it had not been in vain. She’d still be alive when the human race would begin to become—what the human race would become, must become. And she’d never need the outlet of reading imaginative literature again; imagination was about to be replaced by here-and-now current reality!

There were more stars visible now, but one of the at-first-visible ones—it was Sirius, she knew—was brighter