command post.
'Why are they hedging?' O'Donnell demanded impatiently. 'The leech has to be blown up quick. What are they fooling around for?'
'They're afraid of a chain reaction,' Micheals told him. 'A concentration of hydrogen bombs might set one up in the Earth's crust or in the atmosphere. It might do any of half a dozen things.'
'Perhaps they'd like me to order a bayonet attack,' O'Donnell said contemptuously.
Micheals sighed and sat down in an armchair. He was convinced that the whole method was wrong. The government scientists were being rushed into a single line of inquiry. The pressure on them was so great that they didn't have a chance to consider any other approach but force—and the leech thrived on that.
Micheals was certain that there were times when fighting fire with fire was not applicable.
Fire. Loki, god of fire. And of trickery. No, there was no answer there. But Micheals' mind was in mythology now, retreating from the unbearable present.
Allenson came in, followed by six other men.
'Well,' Allenson said, 'there's a damned good chance of splitting the Earth wide open if you use the number of bombs our figures show you need.'
'You have to take chances in war,' O'Donnell replied bluntly. 'Shall I go ahead?'
Micheals saw, suddenly, that O'Donnell didn't care if he did crack the Earth. The red-faced general only knew that he was going to set off the greatest explosion ever produced by the hand of Man.
'Not so fast,' Allenson said. 'I'll let the others speak for themselves.'
The general contained himself with difficulty. 'Remember,' he said, 'according to your own figures, the leech is growing at the rate of twenty feet an hour.'
'And speeding up,' Allenson added. 'But this isn't a decision to be made in haste.'
Micheals found his mind wandering again, to the lightning bolts of Zeus. That was what they needed. Or the strength of Hercules.
Or—
He sat up suddenly. 'Gentlemen, I believe I can offer you a possible alternative, although it's a very dim one.'
They stared at him.
'Have you ever heard of Antaeus?' he asked.
The more the leech ate, the faster it grew and the hungrier it became. Although its birth was forgotten, it did remember a long way back. It had eaten a planet in that ancient past. Grown tremendous, ravenous, it had made the journey to a nearby star and eaten that, replenishing the cells converted into energy for the trip. But then there was no more food, and the next star was an enormous distance away.
It set out on the journey, but long before it reached the food, its energy ran out. Mass, converted back to energy to make the trip, was used up. It shrank.
Finally, all the energy was gone. It was a spore, drifting aimlessly, lifelessly, in space.
That was the first time. Or was it? It thought it could remember back to a distant, misty time when the Universe was evenly covered with stars. It had eaten through them, cutting away whole sections, growing, swelling. And the stars had swung off in terror, forming galaxies and constellations.
Or was that a dream?
Methodically, it fed on the Earth, wondering where the rich food was. And then it was back again, but this time above the leech.
It waited, but the tantalizing food remained out of reach. It was able to sense how rich and pure the food was.
Why didn't it fall?
For a long time the leech waited, but the food stayed out of reach. At last, it lifted and followed.
The food retreated, up, up from the surface of the planet. The leech went after as quickly as its bulk would allow.
The rich food fled out, into space, and the leech followed. Beyond, it could sense an even richer source.
The hot, wonderful food of a sun!
O'Donnell served champagne for the scientists in the control room. Official dinners would follow, but this was the victory celebration.
'A toast,' the general said, standing. The men raised their glasses. The only man not drinking was a lieutenant, sitting in front of the control board that guided the drone spaceship.
'To Micheals, for thinking of—what was it again, Micheals?'
'Antaeus.' Micheals had been drinking champagne steadily, but he didn't feel elated. Antaeus, born of Ge, the Earth, and Poseidon, the Sea. The invincible wrestler. Each time Hercules threw him to the ground, he arose refreshed.
Until Hercules held him in the air.
Moriarty was muttering to himself, figuring with slide rule, pencil and paper. Allenson was drinking, but he didn't look too happy about it.
'Come on, you birds of evil omen,' O'Donnell said, pouring more champagne. 'Figure it out later. Right now, drink.' He turned to the operator. 'How's it going?'
Micheals' analogy had been applied to a spaceship. The ship, operated by remote control, was filled with pure radioactives. It hovered over the leech until, rising to the bait, it had followed. Antaeus had left his mother, the Earth, and was losing his strength in the air. The operator was allowing the spaceship to run fast enough to keep out of the leech's grasp, but close enough to keep it coming.
The spaceship and the leech were on a collision course with the Sun.
'Fine, sir,' the operator said. 'It's inside the orbit of Mercury now.'
'Men,' the general said, 'I swore to destroy that thing. This isn't exactly the way I wanted to do it. I figured on a more personal way. But the important thing is the destruction. You will all witness it. Destruction is at times a sacred mission. This is such a time. Men, I feel wonderful.'
'Turn the spaceship!' It was Moriarty who had spoken. His face was white. 'Turn the damned thing!'
He shoved his figures at them.
They were easy to read. The growth-rate of the leech. The energy-consumption rate, estimated. Its speed in space, a constant. The energy it would receive from the Sun as it approached, an exponential curve. Its energy- absorption rate, figured in terms of growth, expressed as a hyped-up discontinuous progression.
The result—
'It'll consume the Sun,' Moriarty said, very quietly.
The control room turned into a bedlam. Six of them tried to explain it to O'Donnell at the same time. Then Moriarty tried, and finally Allenson.
'Its rate of growth is so great and its speed so slow—and it will get so much energy—that the leech will be able to consume the Sun by the time it gets there. Or, at least, to live off it until it can consume it.'
O'Donnell didn't bother to understand. He turned to the operator.
'Turn it,' he said.
They all hovered over the radar screen, waiting.
The food turned out of the leech's path and streaked away. Ahead was a tremendous source, but still a long way off. The leech hesitated.
Its cells, recklessly expending energy, shouted for a decision. The food slowed, tantalizingly near.
The closer source or the greater?
The leech's body wanted food
It started after it, away from the Sun.
The Sun would come next.
'Pull it out at right angles to the plane of the Solar System,' Allenson said.
The operator touched the controls. On the radar screen, they saw a blob pursuing a dot. It had turned.
Relief washed over them. It had been close!
'In what portion of the sky would the leech be?' O'Donnell asked, his face expressionless.
'Come outside; I believe I can show you,' an astronomer said. They walked to the door. 'Somewhere in that section,' the astronomer said, pointing.
