“They try kill us, yes?” an unfamiliar voice said hoarsely.
Quade looked at Kathleen, then at Sherman. They, too, were staring. Again the voice repeated its question. Slowly Quade turned to meet the unblinking gaze of Speedy.
“This bad place,” the Zonal said. “Better go.”
“He talked,” Kathleen murmured unbelievingly. “He’s intelligent, Tony!”
“Intelligent,” Speedy repeated. “Yes. Your language hard. But Earth man Udell taught us some words. Speak.”
Quade swallowed.
“Yeah. You speak, all right. But how? Have you been playing dumb all along?”
Speedy looked puzzled.
“Earth man Udell stick us with needle.”
“That’s it,” Quade said abruptly. “So that was Udell’s trick!” He glanced around. “We can’t get out. Our ship’s wrecked. Understand?”
Speedy nodded.
“Understand. I get help.”
“You know where the camp is?”
“I know. I go there now. Tell men—bring them here. Yes.”
He rocketed up and was gone. His sleek figure was visible swooping toward the ice barrier. Then he had crossed it and vanished.
“Let’s go inside,” Quade said. “I’d hate it if the Zonals ate us before Wolfe got here.”
Inside the castle Quade divided the javelins and passed them around.
“One mystery’s solved,” he said. “There won’t be any trouble in filming Sons of Titan now. The Zonals are intelligent—but it takes a shot of neo-curare to make ’em that way.”
“A poison?” Kathleen asked. “Spill it, Tony.”
“A poison to us, not to the Zonals. They’ve a different sort of physiology. The neo-curare doesn’t hurt ’em. It just liberates their subconscious.”
“Huh?” Sherman said.
“Here’s the angle. Scientists got on the track a long time ago—’way back before . They experimented with a dog—trained him to do certain things at the sound of a bell, a conditioned reflex, you know. Then they doped him with curare and developed other habit-patterns in his brain, also set in action by the bell.
“They proved the two had two independent behavior-systems in his mind—that both could be trained to react to the same stimulus and do it independently of each other. It works like that with the Zonals.”
Kathleen blinked. Quade went on.
“It’s logical enough. The virus that wrecked the Zonal culture ruined only their conscious mind—made ’em idiots. Their subconscious minds weren’t harmed. They still retain their potential power. But they’re subconscious, of course—blanketed.
“The neo-curare simply inhibits the higher centers of the brain, the part that was wrecked by the virus, and releases the subconscious. And while that’s in control the Zonals are intelligent! This will mean rehabilitation for the whole race, someday. Udell taught and trained ’em while they were doped with neo-curare.
“So all we have to do is follow Udell’s lead. When we get back to camp we’ll first of all immunize the men with the antivirus and then break out the neo-curare. We can finish Sons of Titan in a few weeks!”
“You forgot something,” Sherman said. “One of the degenerate Zonals got inoculated with neo-curare too, just now.”
“Well, the javelin also went through his heart,” Quade said. “You can’t be smart when you’re dead. I dunno about that but I’ve got a suspicion the neo-curare won’t have the same effect on these Zonals of yours. They’re so decadent that even their subconscious may be bestialized.
“They’re almost a different race, as far beneath the regular Zonals as a hyena is beneath a human being. We can try it out and now’s our chance, because they’re attacking again. So we can’t wait till Wolfe arrives. Kathleen, our ship’s wrecked, isn’t it?”
“I think so,” the girl said dubiously. “The plates are smashed.”
“Um. I may be able to do some repair work. It’s worth trying. Your helmet’s okay, isn’t it?”
Kathleen nodded.
“But you’re not going outside, are you?”
Quade was donning his spacesuit. He pulled the transparent helmet into place.
“I am,” he said through the diaphragm. “Our javelins won’t keep the Zonals off long unless the neo-curare will do the trick—and I’m going to find out. At worst, even if our ship’s wrecked, there’s a gun or two in the cabin.” He turned to Sherman. “Take it easy. Luck.”
“I’m going with you,” Kathleen decided.
“There’s only one helmet,” Quade informed her. “I’ll be safe enough in this spacesuit. You stay here till I get back, understand?”
“All right,” the girl said obediently and Quade departed.
“First time in her life she ever did what I told her,” he thought, plodding toward the lake. This job was going to be dangerous, regardless of what he had told Kathleen. If the Zonals attacked—
He went on. A number of the Zonals trailed him. One ran forward, and Quade spun quickly and threw his javelin. He didn’t want to kill. He was making an experiment. The sharp-ground point ripped into the amphibian’s leg and the Zonal fell instantly.
Quade waited. After a minute or more the creature hoisted itself laboriously upright. It had fallen behind its fellows, who were still following Quade.
It ran after them, limping. Its low snarling mingled with the menacing noises of the others. One glimpse of the amphibian’s brutal face told Quade that his guess had been right. These Zonals were so decadent that not even neo-curare could make them intelligent.
Shrugging, he turned to the lake. A gleam of metal told him the location of the sunken spaceship. Quade waded in. The luminous water seethed about his knees, his waist—closed over his helmet. That didn’t matter. The chemicals in the suit supplied plenty of air.
He saw the ship, a black shadow, looking like a great resting shark on the bottom. Thanks to the luminosity of the water it was surprisingly clear; he could make out details easily. And now he could hear noises that must mean pursuit. The Zonals, he thought, were amphibians.
They swam down, keeping a safe distance for the time as Quade manipulated the space-lock. As the Zonals saw him disappearing they came in fast. Quade got another javelin from his belt and used it efficiently.
But after that he was reduced to using his fists, which was not too effective under water. The Zonals began dragging him out
