Star Quest

“Too bad… about… Tarnilee,” Hunk said. “Too bad, Tohm.” And then he was gone: no less a man in death than ever took a breath. Tohm recognized that as a line from some poem he had picked out of the books in Triggy Gop's bowels. He removed his hand from the blood-covered chin and stood.

“We had better go,” Corgi said suddenly, turning away from the remains of Hunk. “They'll be calling in heavy artillery.”

Tohm ordered the Jumbo to follow.

They trudged across the desert, suddenly very weary in all their well-shaped and mis-shapen bones.

“He's here,” Corgi said at last, brightening a bit.

“The Old Man,” Babe whispered reverently in explanation.

Tohm could see, among the black shadows of the trees, a greater shadow of what seemed to be a ship. A portal hummed open. They stepped through. “Welcome,” the Old Man said.

Tohm gasped. “Good God, Triggy Gop!”

XV

“Who else?” the voice drifted from the walls.

'I'll be damned!”

“I doubt that. The others?”

“Dead,” Corgi said flatly and as quickly as he could. He did not seem to want to dwell upon it.

There was a moment of silence before Triggy spoke. “It happens. It has happened to others of us and will happen again. We must remember, however, the cause. In fact, we may all have a chance to die for the cause. The Romaghins have discovered, through their intelligence network, that a great number of Muties are entering Federation worlds via unknown means. They have not discovered that I am that unknown transport. But their suspicions are aroused. They have their eyes on Columbiad, where we have our greatest forces concentrated. Any moment, they may attack in an attempt to wipe out as many of us as they can before we can make our move,”

“What do we do?” Corgi asked. “I foresee a ninety percent chance that they will attack.”

Everyone frowned. “That isn't good,” Triggy sighed.

Corgi continued: “However, and this is odd, there seems to be only a thirty-five percent chance of their succeeding.”

“You're sure?” Triggy asked.

“Positive.”

Everyone had flopped onto couches. There were also ten normals, the Mutie sympathizers from the capital— ten out of three million who would actually do something about the injustice they saw.

“We are making the transfer in four hours,” Triggy announced.

There were gasps and murmurs of excitement.

“But are we ready?” Mayna asked.

“Yes, sweet child. You are the last colony to be evacuated. You will, because of your idea for total universe transfer, which was offered by your Hunk, be my staff for the operation.”

There were smiles.

“Now, please strap in. Tohm, you come to the main room and strap in the hypno-teacher. In your absence, I prepared a set of toto-experience tapes, working from the ground up. They bypass vocabulary and appeal to all senses. They should explain all of this to you.”

He stood. “I hope so.”

“They will. I'm sure of it. Perfect pieces of work — even if I say so myself.”

While the others strapped in, Tohm left and found the hypno-teacher. He was belted down before the blast came.

The tapes were very good.

He walked above the universes, looking down at each. He did not question where his vantage point may have been, but watched that which was shown with a singleness of purpose that could only have been hypno- suggestion. He understood that each universe (and there were countless trillions of them) was an all-encompassing and endless thing, yet each universe was separated from the others by a wall, a very definite barrier dubbed the Fringe. One layer of molecules separated each universe from its neighbors. In fact, that layer was one molecule stretching in all directions until eternity, though never bisecting another shell molecule.

He saw that the Muties were able to distinguish this area, to view it naturally in much the same way he was seeing it now. They could locate their own universe in this endless procession. The Mutie mind could distort the shell molecule, stretch it thin and rent it, making a portal into the neighboring universe. They could encompass their own universe with the fields of their minds, wrench it from its niche, and start it moving through the rent. If they studiously concentrated on not encompassing the Romaghin and Setessin worlds, those areas would be left behind.

The Muties' universe would not, however, collide with the neighboring universe on the other side of the rent molecule when it pushed through, for that neighboring universe would push against the shell molecule on its opposite end and force itself through into a third universal plane. The third would push into a fourth almost simultaneously; the fourth into a fifth, fifth into sixth. An endless chain would be started. The process of natural transfer of universes would never end. There would be no negative repercussions, for the process was not a circle that would eventually close itself.

The Muties wanted to encompass all of their own universe except the warlike worlds, thus pushing ninety-nine point nine percent through the rent. The gaps where the peaceful worlds had been would be (?) empty in the old universe, and the spots where the warlike worlds had been would be gaps in the new universe. It was quite like a cancer operation, cutting out the malignant growths — in this case, worlds — and leaving them behind. What happened to the Romaghins and Setessins in that great empty universe was not their worry. Cruel, perhaps, but wasn't it worth it to all those neutral peoples who had been caught up in an eight hundred year war?

All of this was shown him, not in words, but in mind pictures, in thought-image concepts that he could grasp with all senses.

At last, he understood.

“Well?” Triggy Gop said, when he came out of hypno-teach.

“It's clear now.”

“Are you with us?”

He grinned at the walls where the cameras would be watching him. “Of course.”

“I'm glad. I was intrigued by you that first time we met. When I learned you were with Corgi's group, I wasn't surprised. Not really. In fact, I was so intrigued with you that I began writing an opus about your exploits. I expect to get a full account from you so that I may work on the verse once we get through to the new universe and this great labor is over.”

“An heroic epic?”

“Something like that.”

“You know that my search never reached fruition.”

“Well, we shall see.”

“It didn't. A bust.”

“Time heals all wounds. Meanwhile, stay strapped in. We're landing on Columbiad in a few minutes. I have to attend to that now.”

Tohm leaned back in the chair. The entire concept was staggering. The Muties had been trying to transfer the capital of Basa II into another universe. But they had discovered that it was simpler to transfer everything but the Romaghins and Setessins! He still could not grasp it all. But it meant something now. He had seen how war and the war-makers had held back an entire people — the Muties — and had disrupted the entire lives of billions more. To end war was certainly a noble gesture. He wanted to be in on it. It was something to continue living for. And the hissing in the bushes … The filling