Part 2

Wolverton found me as I knew he would. I was aware of him even before he saw me. It surprised me that he had located me so quickly--but that was the only unusual thing about it. His air-boat came slanting down toward my hiding place, but I did not move. He stepped out and came toward me, but I did not fly though every muscle in my body screamed for flight. When he was close enough I reached for him, but my grip slipped harmlessly away. Still, this did not surprise me for I had not been able to touch him before--and was he not the Father of Evil? But when the glinting metal flashed violet in his hand and the stunning shock locked my muscles in rigid paralysis--I was afraid--but then it was too late--

* * * * *

I was again lying upon the narrow white table while the doctor massaged my stiff body. Slowly a feeling that was agony came back to my numbed body and I stirred weakly. "Fool," the doctor said. "Did you think to escape from _him_?" There was bitter acid in her voice, mixed with an odd note of admiration. "You had courage to try but you should have known you wouldn't succeed."

"I nearly did," I said, "and I would have if he had been slower to pursue. In the dark I could have avoided him."

"He would have found you though it had been as dark as the bottom of the Pit."

"I would have been gone."

She laughed. "You do not know him."

"I know he is the Father of Evil," I said.

"You are wrong--he is not that--he is merely different--older--wiser--but not evil."

It was my turn to laugh, and I did although it hurt my throat and made my chest ache. "It is you who are the fool," I said.

She shrugged. "It may be," she agreed, "but you will learn that Wolverton is master here, and what he wants he keeps. Nor will you escape again."

"Why not?"

"Try," she said, "He has turned the field off."

I tried--and panic flooded me! I did not move--nor could I feel the slightest trace of the doctor although I tried to reach her with all my strength. Then I screamed! And my screams were echoed by her laughter.

The spasm died quickly enough--for I am not a coward. It is the unknown which is frightening--the feeling of helplessness in the face of powers greater than one's own. But then I realized I had chosen this course--that it was not forced upon me, and that Zard was guiding my faltering steps.

"You are lying," I said with forced calmness. "The field is still on."

She looked at me with pitying contempt, rose quietly into the air and floated over my head! "So it's on, is it?" she asked.

My mouth dropped open in a gape of unmannerly surprise. "You're an Adept!" I gasped.

"I was. Now I'm a doctor."

"But why?--why haven't you reported back to Hosanna? You are free. What keeps you here?"

"I do not wish to leave," the doctor said calmly.

"You're conditioned!"

"You could call it that," she agreed. "I prefer to think I have learned some sense, that I have forgotten the silly superstitions of my childhood when I came here to kill. Ten years ago I was like you, but now--"

"Now," I said bitterly, "you are a minion of Evil."

The doctor's laugh was merry and unforced. "Every year they get worse!" she chuckled. "I see what Wolverton means when he says there's no hope for this world." She floated quietly back to the floor.

I felt crushed and angry at the same time. Who was she to laugh at the Word? Once again I tried to rise. With all my strength I tried, but again I didn't move. There was something warm encircling my neck. I raised a hand to it and touched smooth metal--a close fitting ring about my throat.

"Yes," the doctor said, answering my unspoken question. "That is what restrains you. And it will stay on until he removes it. Nothing can cut that ring." She smiled ruefully. "I wore one once--for nearly five years--"

She kept on talking, something about taking time for the electronics section to develop a wave form that would cancel my powers--which was why I had lived under the field--and why I had a chance to try to escape, but I didn't really hear her. I hadn't figured on this development. It shocked me into utter numbness.

It was two days later before I could rise. The braces were gone from my leg and I was whole again. Whole, but helpless.

* * * * *

Unmolested, I walked through Wolverton's stronghold. I passed the Halsite whom I had struck down. He looked at me and grinned. There was no malice in him.

"You fool me," he said cheerfully. "I not very smart--but next time you try I run you down--bring you back. You no do that thing twice."

"If you can catch me," I answered.

"I catch, all right. You wear ring now. You no get away."

I sighed. He was right.

Later that day I saw Leslie--the Adept who tried to reach Wolverton last year. I waved to him, but he did not notice me. He was reading a book, and the glass wall that separated us prevented me from speaking to him. A silver ring gleamed around his neck--he too was a prisoner, and from the looks of it he, too, was learning forbidden things. I wondered at the unholy spell of Wolverton. What was the devilish power he had over the minds of men that made even an Adept ignore Zard's teachings? There was a tense earnestness to Leslie's bent figure, a driving air of concentration he had never shown when learning the writings of Zard. He was absorbed--fascinated--and looking at him I again felt the icy hand of terror grip my mind.

I shrugged it off. So far there had been no invasion of my thoughts. My beliefs were still mine, and although my body was trapped, my spirit was free. And if I could not reach him with my mind, there was always a weapon to rely upon--something that would fit my hand--something blunt to smash--something sharp to drive through skin and flesh into his blackened heart.

But despite my freedom I was watched by seen and unseen eyes. No weapon I could find remained long in my hand. It was the ultimate frustration. And finally I gave it up. I would have to mark the location of weapons and bide my time until Wolverton was close enough to one which I could seize and slay him before his minions could prevent me. Slowly I learned cunning--to dissemble--to hide my intent--to wait.

And while I waited Wolverton talked to me, and I listened, fascinated by the evil of the man. For not only did he mock the Word, he despised It, calling It a superstition-tainted mass of primitive Mumbo Jumbo--whatever that might be. But except for this flouting of the Word, Wolverton was not so evil as I thought. There was a gentleness about him that was strange. My own people had little of this. After all, Promised Land was not an easy world to tame, and our rise to greatness had been the product of unending struggle against an unfriendly if not inimical environment. But in the end, the Word and those who believed in It, were triumphant. Did we not tame and rule three-quarters of this world? Were we not the Chosen? Often I had to go back to basics after a talk with Wolverton. He disarmed me with his friendly voice and with his logic. It was getting harder to resist him--and I understood now how the others had fallen. Wolverton, if he tried, could charm the birds from the trees, make black look white, evil virtuous, and righteousness unrighteous. He was truly a terrible man and I looked forward to his daily visits with mingled dread and anticipation. There was something toward which he was leading me and I dreaded the revelation even while I enjoyed the trip.

* * * * *

We--or rather Wolverton--talked of philosophy--of science--of history--of distant worlds which he had visited with such disarming charm that I learned despite my obstinacy. Soon I began to know them--Earth--green Earth, the home-world of the race with her impossible blue skies and seas, gray clouds, white snows, fierce arid deserts, tall mountains and greenly verdant valleys. From her vast forests to her broad plains and great cities, Earth was a thing of loveliness. I could feel Wolverton's passion when he spoke of it--nor was I surprised when he at last confessed that he was born there.

And I learned of Mars--rust red and rugged--harsh and cold--where men lived under domes and husbanded the scanty air and water with miser's care.

And Proxima--first star colony of Earth--a gentle world of soft pastels and grays--a barren world which men reclaimed and made beautiful, drawing from their skill and science to mold the primitive life forms into things of beauty and utility.

And golden Fanar--ripe and lovely with its humanoids and developing civilization that blossomed to full flower when men came and lent their skills and science to their cousins.

And Kungtze--delicate fairyland of violet skies and soft rounded hills like virgin bosoms waiting to be kissed.

And Samar--not the Samar I knew, but a land of seas and islands, tall ships and gracious living.

And Halsey--harsh--forested and forbidding--a world that distrusted and did not welcome man--a world peopled by savage humanoids who united only in the face of danger.

And more--many more.

* * * * *

I learned of them all in the days of their youth--together with the struggles and pain that went into their taming. Wolverton's words were wings that sent my spirit soaring. His tales--filled with courage and adventure, of blood and treachery, of honor and fair dealing, made me proud of my race. We were not perfect, we men--but there was within us the seed of greatness that would perhaps flower into the true bloom. It made me proud to learn the past glories of our race. Almost I could feel that Wolverton was a brother in the great brotherhood of man.

And then he killed the dream--brought it crashing to the ground in a brutal series of horridly frank solidograph projections. These were real people that bled and died and performed unspeakable brutalities upon each other and upon the worlds where they lived.

"On the average," Wolverton said bitterly, "it takes five to six thousand years, but we have been in space longer than that, and some societies last longer than others, but the end is always inevitable."

He showed me all--a solid month of it.

Earth: A world of legalized cannibalism where men were bred for food--a world of wrecked glory swiftly returning to jungle and desert.

Mars: Redying in slow bitter agony as technology failed under the pressure of excessive population, with legal infanticide, eugenics laws, and tyranny.

Proxima: Bloody and torn--waging suicidal war whose ultimate end would be virtual annihilation of all life.

Fanar: Dead and radioactive.

Kungtze: A huge, monolithic state that owned and controlled everything down to the last living unit, where the population swarmed and jostled in huge collectives that were neither cities nor farms, but something of both--where everything was used even down to the dead bodies of those too old to work, slain by the state to make room for others.

Samar: A matriarchate ruled by the few--filled by the many, where women outnumbered men twenty to one, and the men ruled by the sly and subtle tyranny of sex, and where--despite the disparity of sexes--people swarmed and teemed, and struggled for possession of a place to live and the partial possession of a man.

Halsey: Harsh, forested, and forbidding--a world that distrusted and did not welcome man--a world peopled by savage humanoids who united only in the face of danger. They were united now--armed and ready to resist invasion.

And there were more.

I was sick--sick at the folly of man, who threw away so much for so little. "Whose fault?" I asked. "Why did these things happen?"

"It was no one's fault," Wolverton said, sadly. "It was everyone's. In opening new worlds, people are needed, so they have large families. The tradition becomes established and when at last the world is comfortably filled--instead of stopping--holding the line and consolidating what they have won--people go right on the same old way, producing more and more of their kind until finally the world grows too small. Then they quarrel, fight, and die until they are so reduced that they can start the vicious cycle over again--and in the process civilization becomes barbarism and culture becomes chaos. If the world is lucky, it survives to rise again as Earth will do. If it is unlucky it ends like Fanar.

* * * * *

"And that is where you come in. You and the others like you, but you in particular. For you possess in a tremendous degree the ability to _convince_. I could feel it in you despite my shields. It influenced E'Komo despite his loyalty. It made Doctor Sara waver despite her dedication. I have watched and waited for you for generations--for over two thousand years. For here in this enclave I knew you _must_ some day arrive. Your origin, frankly spiritual and mystic--your development so ruthlessly selective starting with ritual sacrifice of excess--and less desirable--maidens at puberty--your insistence upon developing the spiritual rather than the mechanistic side of culture--all these were bound to develop psi factors. And they have! It is here, I think, where man's salvation lies. Here is the brake on rising population--a person who can _convince_--who can inculcate into the very soul of men that three children are _enough_--or that two are _enough_--or whatever number is needed to stabilize the population of a planet."

I didn't really hear him. My mind had recoiled from what he had told me. Two thousand years, he had said. Two thousand years! And he was not old! Truly he was the Father of Evil, for only Evil and the soul are immortal! "You said two thousand years, didn't you?"

Wolverton chuckled. "I should have added objective," he said.

I didn't understand.

"It's a trick with time," he explained. "Actually I suppose I'm about forty or forty-five. It's not strange. Anyone with a lightspeed ship can do it as long as one stays in normal space time. Take a two-week trip subjective at Lume One and ten objective years go by just like that. It's an old trick. The Timejumpers knew about it before hyperdrive was developed, but it's been forgotten for centuries. Most of the time I'm not here. The Halsites take care of the Holding for me. I heard about you three years ago so I waited until you made your try for me. It was inevitable that you would. Your Bearers are always trying to get me inspired partly by religious and partly by economic reasons--and they pick the best of each year's crop to try. As a result I get about three new recruits a year. The old ones pick them up and indoctrinate them. But we keep up the fiction of Wolverton being here. It's good business." Wolverton looked at the dumbfounded expression on my face and laughed.

"So you don't understand," he said. "Well, you have plenty of time to learn after we treat about five rim worlds. We'll be practical about it and let you learn about lightspeed and time stasis the normal way--in a spaceship!"

"No," I said.

"But you can't turn me down," he protested. "I thought you understood. People need you--need you badly. Our others can modify a little but they can't convince. It takes a hundred of them to even begin to cover a world--and there aren't very many hopeful worlds left. We have to hold the line or humanity will breed itself into extinction."

"I am still your prisoner," I said, luxuriating in the first real weakness I had found in him. "You might as well know that I still oppose you. I don't believe you. You are Evil and Evil has a smooth tongue--Zard said it long ago, and it is still the truth."

Wolverton groaned.

"Nor will I help you!"

Anger flowed from him. "You stupid fool!" he blazed. "Do you think _I'd_ ask _you_ to do anything for _me_? His rage struck me like a blow. I'm _telling_ you--not asking. You will do something for your race--something you can do, or so help me God, I'll condition everything out of you _except_ your superstitious prejudices and maroon you on Samar!"

He meant what he said. His anger was a true anger--and he had spoken the Name we all knew yet did not speak aloud. And he was not struck down. I was confused and upset. I shivered with a fear that was as icy as the River of the Dead. There was something wrong here--something I could not understand. Then I saw the light.

"I will bargain with you," I said. Zard's plan was becoming clear. "I will join you in good faith."

"With what reservations?"

"None--I will swear this by Zard's bones."

He looked at me speculatively. "What is the nature of this bargain?"

"I will join you willingly if you leave this world."

He smiled. "Sorry, it's no go. It's too good a psi trap. And your race has a virtual monopoly on the supply. You presume too much on my claims about your value. You're not _that_ valuable."

* * * * *

I sighed. This was not the way. Zard would have opened it if it were. I had weakened--but he had not retreated. I had shown a softness in my armor and had given him hope of conquering--and with that little opening what could he not do? He needed but one break in my defenses--and I would be lost. Already I was dangerously weakened. Rapidly I repeated the catechism of Zard as he talked, and presently his voice faded and was gone as the ecstasy of spiritual union with the Word gripped me in firm protecting hands....

* * * * *

"Come with me," Wolverton said a week later. "I have something to show you."

Obediently I rose and followed him. A Halsite followed as we walked out into the sun. We had come a different way than before--a way I had never taken. Before me was a broad concrete plain studded with oddly curved walls. In the center of the area a tall, pinch-waisted, needle-nosed spaceship stood on its landing pads--pointing straight up to the sky. I looked at it with awe. It was bigger even than a trader and it looked oddly menacing yet beautiful.

"Yours?" I asked.

He nodded. "Mine. She's Earth-built--one of the last battle cruisers ever built in an Earth yard. Ships like this aren't made any more--even though she's four thousand objective years old. Come, let's look at her."

As we approached, I could see the ship was enormous. It rose over our heads like some great campanile tower, yet despite its size there was an air of subtle refinement about the mass, an impression almost of delicacy--as though it had been tenderly and carefully constructed by men who loved their work. Each part was beautifully finished and perfectly machined, and the diamond-hard non-corrosive metal gleamed in the golden sunlight. And despite its huge size and absurdly tiny jets, it looked _fast_!

"It's big enough to move an entire city!" I gasped.

"She has a crew of five--and capacity for fifty marines," Wolverton replied.

"All that size--but--"

"Most of it is taken up with weapons systems," he said. "I could utterly destroy a planet of this size with her weapons. She'll travel at Lume One as long as you care to drive her--or she'll go clear up to ultra band in hyperspace. She's the fastest, deadliest thing in this sector--beautiful--isn't she?" He talked as though the ship was a woman--a woman he loved.

"I wanted you to see her," he pointed at the ship, "so that you will know exactly what I mean when I offer you freedom such as you have never known. With this ship we can do anything--go anywhere. Time means nothing--hours in hyperspace--years in normal spacetime. I'm offering you the Universe if you join with me to work and save--to keep men from following the old paths to racial destruction." His voice, eyes, and entire body were tense. Conviction flowed from him in smothering waves. I had never really felt the power of the man and I was shaken. Shaken and unsure. For the Word seemed oddly weak in the presence of this titanic ship and the equally titanic man who owned it. I could not explain the feelings that surged inside me--missionary to the human race--freedom from worldly bounds--greed for life and knowledge--weariness and surrender to Wolverton's endless urging--all were there, but there was more than that. I kept looking up at the ship, my head whirling from the dizzying sweep of her--her beauty and power filling my eyes. My heart soared with her soaring lines. I felt quite enthralled--uplifted--caught in a force greater than my will. Now--suddenly I knew why Wolverton spoke of the ship with such passion in his voice. It must have shown in my eyes for a great gladness lighted his. "I will join you," I said in a small voice--and inside me something died as soon as I had spoken. I had the hollow feeling I had lost my soul.

"I will not ask you to swear," he said with odd gentleness. "I have pushed you far enough. Let us go to the laboratory and remove that ring and restore your powers."

A voice inside me spoke sluggishly. "_Fight fire with fire--craft with craft_," it said. "_Strike down the Evil doer with his own spear_," but the voice was weak. I followed Wolverton and as I walked the voice became stronger. "_And the Father of Evil took Zard to the top of Mount Karat, and from this high place he offered the world and eternal life if Zard would fall down and worship him. And Zard refused._" I shook my head. I had promised--but what was a promise when it involved the Father of Evil. To slay him, one could promise anything, and yet receive absolution.

The ring was removed from my neck, and with its removal awareness flowed into me. I was whole again! I could see as only an Adept knew how to see. I turned to Wolverton with pleasure in my eyes, and as I looked at him I stiffened with shock!

_His barriers were down!!_

I could penetrate his mind as though it were thinnest air, and in my brain the voice rang out loud, clear, quick, eager, triumphant!

Now--NOW!!--KILL!!!

* * * * *

I took his mind in mine, encompassing it. I held his life. One surge of power, one squeeze and he was dead. The Father of Evil--helpless in the grasp of righteousness.

I paused, savoring my triumph searching for the evil I knew lay concealed beneath the surface web of flashing thoughts. I probed beneath them, brushing aside his feeble defenses--and stopped--appalled!