bordering on the divine. Do you know who this Terran is?”
Mekkis made an attempt to tear himself awav from the scale models of antique aircraft. He found himself unable to. One—not strictly a model but a 2-D photograph, non-color—showed a flimsy, ancient plane landing on the deck of a ship; he read the Terran words beneath it and learned that this, on January 18, 1911, constituted the first landing—
Going to the far side of the office in a furious slithering of almost hoop-like rolling, Marshal Koli touched stud after stud in the cabinets there, cabinets which Mekkis had not even noticed, let alone investigated. “Ancient automobiles,” Koli said savagely. “From the 1898 Peugeot on. Hours, days; and once you finished with these there’s my scale model steam locomotive collection in office 4-A.” He turned, slithered ragingly back; Mekkis had rarely seen a fellow worm so in the grip of his thalamus. “I insist that you make official note of my capture of the leader of the Neeg-parts, Percy X, and that you certify that I am therefore the sole and unqualified owner of this quatropodia Terran entity, to do with as I want!”
Mekkis caught a thought that smacked of treason flashing through Koli’s otherwise carefully scrambled mind; Koli had wondered who, in the case of a showdown, the troops would obey, Mekkis or himself. He said aloud, “You may take full credit, Marshal. It’s clear to me that you are what is known as a collector a definite sub-variety of individual typology. Even your adoption of this obscure Terran religion could be regarded as a manifestation of the collector instinct. Let me guess, sir. You want the pelt of Percy X. For a wall-hanging. He would indeed make an attractive decoration, teeth and all—right,
Marshal? There is, on many highly masculine, fully- ripened, sexually-endowed Terran males, a vestigial covering of fur, especially on the chest region and—in other areas.”
Everyone in the room stared at him and then, in the silence, Percy X laughed. A hot, rich laugh, devoid of the slighest trace of sardonic or malicious overtones. And at the same time he grinned directly at Mekkis, and it was a personal, shockingly intimate grin; it was a creature-to-creature grin.
For the life of him Mekkis could not imagine what so delighted the captured partisan leader; he felt mystified and at the same time fascinated at an ethnic response both so unexpected and so arcane. He tried to read the human’s mind and found a perfect scramble pattern waiting for him. That could only mean that Percy X was one of those very rare types, a Terran telepath.
“Can I have him?” Koli said tensely.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Mekkis said, “I have other plans for this biped, Marshal. Plans that I’m sure you would oppose if you knew about them.” Addressing the guards he continued, “Place this captured Terran in comfortable surroundings where proper interrogation can take place. Tomorrow, when I am rested, I have various matters to talk over with him.”
As Percy X was led out the creech who had made the capture said, “Mr. Administrator, we found another Terran with him at the time of capture. A female, of the white strain—that is, of the strain ordinarily hostile to the Neeg-parts. Dermal dye-
codes and other identification make it clear that she is the well-known television personality—”
“Later.” Mekkis said, and felt weary.
“Shoot her,” Marshal Koli rasped.
“No,” Mekkis countermanded. “Place her in the custody of ” He could not remember the name of the counter- intelligence agency operating here on this colony world. “Of the customary bureaus involved,” he finished lamely.
“She’s a traitor,” Koli said. “She must be shot.”
“Koli,” Mekkis said, “contain yourself. There is an old saying here on Earth, I understand. ‘A worm which turns once can turn again,’ or something like that. The artful use of traitors is the secret of bloodless conquest, and I am not fond of violence.” He had begun thinking back to his briefing on Terran psychology. A place existed on this planet, if he recalled correctly, which the occupation forces fancifully called the “School for Wiks,” run by a Terran psychologist named Balkani. The girl could be sent there right away, and as for Percy—he would talk to him first, scan him, test him out.
Mekkis considered himself a gambler. But he liked to stack the deck.
Later, after he had rested, Admininistrator Mekkis had the Terran brought to his office; he confronted Percy X alone, without the annoying presence of Marshal Koli.
‘‘What do you want out of me?’’ Percy demanded, not seating himself.
“Understanding,” Mekkis said. “You are a telepath. If any human can bridge the gap between our
two races a telepath should be able to do it.
“I mean specifically,” Percy said tautly. “What do you want me to do?”
The worm made what might have been a shrug, then said, “Join us.”
Percy caught a glimpse, in the worm’s mind, of himself, Percy X. Percy X, the hunted and hated Neeg-part, as Emperor of the whole bale of Tennessee. There he sat, ruling over all the whites, even over some of the lower caste Gany medians.
It would have been impossible to offer Percy anything that more exactly fitted his own ambitions.
“I see that you understand,” Mekkis said with just the right shade of eagerness in his voice. “What is your decision? Remember that you need not make up your mind in haste; you may take days to think it over. Weeks, in fact. I, personally, have plenty of time. But while you wait our forces will have no choice but to continue their police action against your people in the hills. Every day that you delay will mean the unavoidable loss of more lives plus the—” Without warning Percy X leaped.
Mekkis jerked sideways, trying to escape, but it was no use; the great black Terran landed on him with his full weight, almost knocking him unconscious, then Mekkis felt powerful fingers close over his windpipe and squeeze, squeeze the life out of him. A moment before he blacked out the creeches descended in a howling, squealing horde on the Earth- man’s back and dragged him off.
“Kill him! Kill him!” the creeches screamed hysterically, but Mekkis gasped out, “No, just hold him down. It’s all right. He is just a little high-spirited, that’s all.” Though he felt badly bruised by the struggle Mekkis managed to retain his composure and slipped back into his niche behind the desk.
“I regret having to do this,” Mekkis said to Percy, his voice shaking only slightly, “but I’m afraid that before we can continue this discussion you will need a little psychotherapy to discourage these violent tendencies. However, you will be happy to learn that you will be treated by a man often regarded by Ter- rans and Ganymedians alike as the greatest analyst of our time, Dr. Rudolph Balkani.”'
For just a fraction of a second Percy X dropped his scramble pattern; Mekkis was able to glimpse a swift flash of terror in the Neeg-part’s mind.
What a pleasant surprise, Mekkis thought with satisfaction. I had begun to believe this brute was afraid of nothing.
In the hushed silence of Paul Rivers’ seedy hotel room Dr. Newkom slowly, carefully lifted the telepathic amplifier from Paul’s head. “Did you get through to Percy X?” Newkom asked.
“Yes.” Paul Rivers nodded. “But only to listen; I made no attempt to contact him. That excitement a little while back—creeches brought him in to the Gany military.”
“Too bad,” Newkom said. “We should have started getting to him sooner.”
“This gadget of yours is still too highly selective and directional,” Paul said. “I don’t know why I expected to achieve contact at the first crack.” And now we’ve had it, he thought. If anyone can break a man, it’s Balkani. Rudolph Balkani belongs to a school of therapy I wouldn’t touch with a ten-mile pole, hut I have to admit he gets results. It’s always easier and more impressive to tear things down rather than to build them up or even to sustain them. A human being takes a long time to grow, to mature, but it only takes a moment to damage and destroy him.
And, he thought, a wik Percy will be even worse than a skinned one. When the savior sells out—
“You can’t win them all,” Newkom said. He shut off the power supply of the amplifier and prepared to leave.
“I’m not finished yet,” Paul said.
“But they’ve got Percy.”
Paul said, “Want to go to Norway with me?” Without waiting for an answer he began quickly and efficiently
