side of it. Marshal Koli, well-accustomed to such things, paid no attention; his mind was busy reviewing once again, with good measure of satisfaction, the chain of events which would follow his touching the firing button. The missile, once launched, would move quickly to a point near the Earth but outside Earth’s atmosphere; there it would stabilize itself in an orbit that would keep it fixed directly between Earth and the Sun. Then, automatically, it would project an electromagnetic field in the aural spectrum which would cause the rays of the Sun to bend, to warp out of their normal path, so that not a single ray of sunlight would reach the Earth. The seas will freeze, Koli thought, right down to the bottom—and not only the seas but the atmosphere, the very air the Terrans breathe. The atmosphere will drift down like a pale snow until Earth is as bare of breathable gas as the planet Pluto.
Then, and only then, would the aural field within the missile be turned off and the rays of the Sun allowed once again to reach the surface of Earth. The atmosphere would melt, become first a liquid and then, once again, a gas. The seas would melt, the planet would slowly, over a period of almost a century, become habitable again; Gany medians would return and colonize it, this time solely with imported
life forms from the home world. It had certainly been a major mistake, reflected the Great Common, to allow the native life forms to live, in the vain hope that they might become useful creeches. The mistake, if they ever found other habitable worlds, would not be repeated.
From now on the policy would be: Turn off the Sun. And wait.
Koli had saved one item from Earth, a perfect souvenir of the human race that would now, with the extinction of that race, become very soon a rarity of incredible value. A complete collection of the early short comedies of the original Three Stooges, pre- World War Three. He licked his chops in anticipation of the envy on his friends’ faces when he projected these films, over and over again, in his private villa back home. What do I care, he thought smugly, if they become a little bored? I’ll say to them, “This is what mankind was like,” and I’ll have them; yes, I’ll have them. They won’t be able to argue with the authentic films which the Terrans themselves made. And they’ll be forced to say, whether they like it or not, “Koli, when you exterminated the Earth creatures, you did the right thing.”
I don’t want to kill you, Paul Rivers thought, his palms sweating against the cool metal of the laser rifle. But I will if I have to.
“I see,” Percy X said. He half-sat, half-fell against a rough, pitted rock-surface and watched the spinning world come slowly to rest.
“I’ve been following you,” Paul said. “I spotted you from the air. You must be tired; you didn’t even detect us telepathically.”
“Yeah, I am tired,” Percy panted. But Paul could see that he had begun to regain possession of himself, sizing up the situation like a brilliant, trapped, catlike animal. First the Neeg-part leader studied Paul—and his laser rifle —and then the parked ionocraft behind Paul and at last Joan Hiashi, who, at that moment, had knelt down to inspect something on the loose, rocky soil of the hillside. “Hello, Joan,” Percy said, but she did not even look at him, let alone answer.
“She’s found an anthill,” Paul Rivers said. “She’s taken quite an interest in ants, lately.”
“They’re upset,” Joan said tonelessly. “They can sense something coming.”
“I see in your mind,” Percy said to Paul Rivers, “that you haven’t destroyed the hell-weapon, which is what you came here to do.”
“We only got here a few minutes before you did,” Paul pointed out. “Yes, I know it’s in a cave over there.” He gestured with his free hand. “I’ve got a metal-tropic detection apparatus in my ship. You’re not going to get to use it, even if I have to fry you with this laser rifle.”
Percy had begun to breathe evenly now, and his eyes, which had been dull and feverish a moment before, had become alert and penetrating. “Tell me, Paul,” he said slowly, calculatingly. “Have you ever tried to shoot a telepath before?”
“Get into the ionocraft,” Paul ordered, raising the gun a hair.
Ignoring the command Percy continued, “It isn’t easy to shoot someone who can read your mind, Doctor. I can tell, an instant before you pull the trigger, where you plan to aim that gun—before you
aim it.” He smiled and added, “And if you’re really going to shoot.”
“Get into the ionocraft,” Paul Rivers repeated, but he thought, Suppose he’s right; suppose I can’t shoot him.
“I don’t think you can, Percy X said. “Put the gun down, Paul; I don’t want to hurt you any more than you want to hurt me.”
Paul had been aware of a feeling of unreality for some time now, but had put it down as an aftereffect of some nearby, recent usage of an illusion projector in this mountain region. However, in that case, he realized, the effect should be wearing off, instead of steadily increasing, as it seems to be.
“I notice the same thing,” Percy X said. “It’s as if something is wrong with time, like there’s no clear separation between past and future.” He had a puzzled expression on his face; his eyes worked, darting and penetrating, as he considered the matter. Then all at once he started visibly. “You know what it means, don’t you Paul?”
“No,” Paul said guardedly, never once taking his eyes off the crouching Neeg-part leader.
“I’ve already won,” Percy X said. “Somewhere up ahead of us in time I’ve already turned on the machine, and as we get closer to it we begin to feel its emanations. Didn’t Balkani say that space and time are just illusions produced by selective attention? This proves if, don’t you see? And it proves there’s no way to stop me. My turning on the machine is inevitable.
There’s only one thing I can do, Paul Rivers realized with dismay. If I’m going to keep him from
killing us all I’ve got to shoot him. But I can’t, not unarmed and helpless as he is.
“Helpless?” Percy X said sardonically. He started to his feet.
Paul pulled the trigger, but when the searing blast bored a hole through the rock behind Percy X the man was not there; an instant before he had sprung out of danger, rolling over once and leaping to his feet, just a little closer to Paul.
“You see?” Percy X said, taking another step forward.
There was something wrong with the light. Instead of coming straight down it seemed bent, as if forming a cone of force between Percy X and himself. And at the same time Paul felt a curious numbness descending over his mind; he had to fight to keep his attention on what he intended to do.
Percy X took another careful step forward. “Go ahead, Paul buddy. Shoot me if you can.”
Paul fired again. This time Percy jumped slightly to one side, graceful and lithe.
“Hey, Paul buddy,” Percy gasped, “you know something? Mekkis is tuned in on me now, watching you through my eyes, ready to link up with the Ganymedian group mind just before I turn on the machine. We’re really going to zap them, man; we’re really going to give it to them. He tells me that space looks funny where he is, too, and time seems to be getting mixed up. He says that he had an Oracle who said this would happen, so it’s going to happen, Paul baby, and you better believe it.”
Percy X took another step forward. He stood, now, perhaps nine feet away. One good leap, Paul
realized, and he’s got me.
“You are so right, man,” Percy said, and tensed for the leap.
Paul fired, just burning Percy’s shirt, then fired again, missing him completely. He had no opportunity to fire a third time; Percy X felled him with a judo chop that sent him sprawling in the dust, virtually unconscious. The last thing Paul saw before he blacked out was Joan Hiashi frowning at him and saying, “Watch out; you almost fell on the anthill.
They’re so careless, Joan Hiashi thought. She watched without saying anything further as Percy X snatched up Paul’s laser rifle and threw it over a nearby slope; the big Neeg-part leader was laughing now, with the gloating snarl of a victor, and he continued laughing, but more quietly, to himself, as he strode toward the entrance of the cave.
Joan returned her attention to the ant colony on the ground before her. And frowned.
Something had further upset the ants. They had begun to wander aimlessly, instead of going about their business in their usual orderly fashion.
She heard a moan and glanced questioningly up again.
Paul Rivers had dragged himself to his feet, shaking his head vigorously in an effort to clear it. He peered into the cave, saw Percy X at the entrance and, although still by no means recovered from the judo chop, started
