The Voyage of the Space Beagle

CHAPTER NINETEEN

In that vast room of vast machines, the men seemed like dwarfs in a hall of giants. Grosvenor blinked involuntarily at each burst of unearthly blue light that sparkled and coruscated upon the great, glistening sweep of ceiling. And there was a sound that rasped his nerves as much as the light affected his eyes. It was imprisoned in the air itself. A hum of terrifying power, a vague rumble like thunder from the horizon, a quivering reverberation of an inconceivable flow of energy.

The drive was on. The ship was accelerating, going ever deeper and faster through the gulf of blackness that separated the spiral galaxy, of which Earth was one tiny, spinning atom, from another galaxy of almost equal size. That was the background to the decisive struggle that was now taking place. The largest, most ambitious exploratory expedition that had ever set out from the solar system was in the gravest danger of its existence.

Grosvenor believed that firmly. This was no Coeurl, whose overstimulated body had survived the murderous wars of the dead race that had performed biological experiments upon the animals of the cat planet. Nor could the danger from the Riim folk be compared. After their first misguided effort at communication, he had controlled every subsequent action in what he had thought of as the struggle between one man and a race.

The scarlet monster was clearly and unmistakably in a class by himself.

Captain Leeth climbed up a metal stairway that led to a small balcony. A moment later Morton joined him and stood looking down at the assembled men. He held a sheaf of notes in his hand, divided by one interposed finger into two piles. The two men studied the notes, then Morton said, “This is the first breathing spell we’ve had since the creature came aboard less than — incredible as it may seem — less than two hours ago. Captain Leeth and I have been reading the recommendations given us by heads of departments. These recommendations we have roughly divided into two categories. One category, being of a theoretical nature, we will leave till later. The other category, which concerns itself with mechanical plans for cornering our enemy, naturally takes precedence. To begin with, I am sure that we are all anxious to know that plans are afoot to locate and rescue Mr. von Grossen. Mr. Zeller, tell the rest of the men what you have in mind.”

Zeller came forward, a brisk young man in his late thirties. He had succeeded to the headship of the metallurgy department after Breckenridge was killed by Coeurl. He said, “The discovery that the creature cannot penetrate the group of alloys we call resistance metals automatically gave us a clue as to the type of material we would use in building a space suit. My assistant is already working at the suit, and it should be ready in about three hours. For the search, naturally, we’ll use a fluorite camera. If anybody has any suggestions….”

A man said, “Why not make several suits?”

Zeller shook his head. “We have only a very limited amount of material. We could make more, but only by transmutation, which takes time.” He added. “Besides, ours has always been a small department. We’ll be fortunate to get one suit completed in the time I have set.”

There were no more questions. Zeller disappeared into the machine shop adjoining the engine room.

Director Morton raised his hand. When the men had settled again to silence, he said, “For myself, I feel better knowing that, once the suit is built, the creature will have to keep moving von Grossen in order to prevent us from discovering the body.”

“How do you know he’s alive?” someone asked.

“Because the damned thing could have taken the body of the man he killed, but he didn’t He wants us alive. Smith’s notes have given us a possible clue to his purpose, but they are in category two, and will be discussed later.”

He paused, then went on, “Among the plans put forward for actually destroying the creature, I have here one offered by two technicians of the physics department, and one by Elliott Grosvenor. Captain Leeth and I have discussed these plans with chief engineer Pennons and other experts, and we have decided that Mr. Grosvenor’s idea is too dangerous to human beings, and so will be held as a last resort. We will begin immediately on the other plan unless important objections to it are raised. Several additional suggestions were made, and these have been incorporated. While it is customary to let individuals expound their own ideas, I think time will be saved if I briefly outline the plan as it has been finally approved by the experts.

“The two physicists” — Morton glanced down at the papers in his hand — “Lomas and Hindley, admit that their plan depends on the creature’s permitting us to make the necessary energy connections. That appears probable on the basis of Mr. Korita’s theory of cyclic history, to the effect that a ‘peasant’ is so concerned with his own blood purposes that he tends to ignore the potentialities of organized opposition. On this basis, under the modified plan of Lomas and Hindley, we are going to energize the seventh and ninth levels — only the floor and not the walls. Our hope is this. Until now, the creature has made no organized attempt to kill us. Mr. Korita says that, being a peasant, the thing has not yet realized that he must destroy us or we will destroy him. Sooner or later, however, even a peasant will realize that killing us should come first, before anything else. If he doesn’t interfere with our work, then we’ll trap him on the eighth level, between the two energized floors. There, under circumstances where he won’t be able to get down or up, we’ll search him out with our projectors. As Mr. Grosvenor will realize, this plan is considerably less risky than his own, and therefore should take precedence.”

Grosvenor swallowed hard, hesitated, and then said grimly, “If it’s the amount of risk we’re considering, why don’t we just crowd together here in the engine room and wait for him to develop a method of coming in after us?” He went on earnestly, “Please don’t think I’m trying to push my own ideas. But personally” — he hesitated, then took the plunge — “I consider the plan you outlined as worthless.”

Morton looked genuinely startled. Then he frowned. “Isn’t that rather a sharp judgment?”

Grosvenor said, “I understand the plan as described by you was not the one originally put forward, but a modified version of it. What was taken out?”

“The two physicists,” said the Director, “recommended energizing four levels — seven, eight, nine, and ten.”

For the third time Grosvenor hesitated. He had no desire to be over critical. At any moment, if he persisted, they would simply cease asking his opinion. He said finally, “That’s better.”

From behind Morton, Captain Leeth interrupted. “Mr. Pennons, tell the group why it would be inadvisable to energize more than two floors.”

The chief engineer stepped forward. He said with a frown, “The principal reason is that it would take an extra three hours, and we are all agreed that time is of the essence. If time were not a factor, it would be much better to energize the entire ship under a controlled system, walls as well as floors. That way, he couldn’t escape us. But it would require about fifty hours. As I stated previously, uncontrolled energization would be suicide. There’s another factor involved that we discussed purely as human beings. The reason the creature will seek us out will be that he wants more men, so that when he starts down, he’ll have one of us with him. We want that man, whoever he is, to have a chance for life.” His voice grew harsh. “During the three hours it will take us to put the modified plan into effect, we’ll be helpless against him except for high-powered mobile vibrators and heat projectors. We dare not use anything heavier inside the ship, and those will have to be used with care since they can kill human beings. Naturally, each man is expected to defend himself with his own vibrator.” He stepped back. “Let’s get going!”

Captain Leeth said unhappily, “Not so fast. I want to hear more of Mr. Grosvenor’s objections.”

Grosvenor said, “If we had time, it might be interesting to see how this creature reacts to such energized walls.”

A man said irritably, “I don’t get the argument. Why, if this creature ever gets caught between two energized levels, that’s the end of him. We know he can’t get through.”

“We don’t know anything of the kind,” Grosvenor said firmly. “All we know is that he got into a wall of force, and that he escaped. We assume he didn’t like it. In fact, it seems clear that he definitely could not remain in such an energy field for any length of time. It is our misfortune, however, that we cannot use a full force screen against him. The walls, as Mr. Pennons pointed out, would melt. My point is, he escaped from what we’ve got”

Captain Leeth looked disconcerted. “Gentlemen,” he said, “why was this point not brought out at the discussion? It is certainly a valid objection.”

Morton said, “I was in favour of inviting Grosvenor to the discussion, but I was voted down on the basis of a long-standing custom, whereby the man whose plan is under consideration is not present. For the same reason, the two physicists were not invited.”

Siedel cleared his throat. “I don’t think,” he said, “that Mr. Grosvenor realizes what he has just done to us. We have all been assured that the ship’s energy screen is one of man’s greatest scientific achievements. This has given me personally a sense of well being and security. Now he tells us this being can penetrate it.”

Grosvenor said, “I didn’t say the ship’s screen was vulnerable, Mr. Siedel. In fact, there is reason to believe the enemy could not and cannot get through it. The reason is that he waited beyond it till we brought him inside it. The floor energization, now being discussed, is a considerably weaker version.”

“Still,” said the psychologist, “don’t you think the experts unconsciously assumed a similarity between the two forms?

The rationale would be: If this energization is ineffective, then we are lost. Therefore, it must be effective.”

Captain Leeth broke in wearily. “I’m afraid that Mr. Siedel has accurately analysed our weakness. I recall now having such a thought.”

From the centre of the room, Smith said, “Perhaps we’d better hear Mr. Grosvenor’s alternative plan.”

Captain Leeth glanced at Morton, who hesitated, then said, “He suggested that we divide ourselves into as many groups as there are atomic projectors aboard—”

That was as far as he got. A physics technician said in a shocked voice, “Atomic energy — inside a ship!”

The uproar that began lasted for more than a minute. When it died away, Morton went on as if there had been no interruption.

“We have forty-one such projectors at the moment. If we accepted Mr. Grosvenor’s plan, each one would be manned by a nucleus of military personnel, with the rest of us spread out as bait within sight of one of the projectors. Those manning the projector would be under orders to activate it even if one or more of us is in the line of fire.”

Morton shook his head slightly, and went on. “It is possibly the most effective suggestion that has been put forward. However, the ruthlessness of it shocked us all. The idea of firing at one’s own people, while not new, strikes much deeper than Mr. Grosvenor — I think — realizes. In fairness, though, I must add that there was one other factor that decided the scientists against it. Captain Leeth stipulated that those who acted as bait must be unarmed. To most of us, that was carrying the thing too far. Every man should be entitled to defend himself.” The Director shrugged. “Since there was an alternative plan, we voted for it. I am now personally in favour of Mr. Grosvenor’s idea, but I still object to Captain Leeth’s stipulation.”

At the first mention of the commander’s suggestion Grosvenor had swung around and stared at the officer. Captain Leeth looked back steadily, almost grimly. After a moment, Grosvenor said aloud in a deliberate tone, “I think you ought to take the risk, Captain.”

The commander acknowledged the words with a slight, formal bow. “Very well,” he said, “I withdraw my stipulation.”

Grosvenor saw that Morton was puzzled by the brief interchange. The Director glanced at him, then at the captain, then back again to Grosvenor. Then a startled look flashed into his heavy-set face. He came down the narrow metal steps and over to Grosvenor. He said in a low tone, “To think that I never realized what he was getting at. He obviously believes that in a crisis….” He stopped, and turned to stare up at Captain Leeth.

Grosvenor said placatingly, “I think he now realizes he made a mistake in bringing up the matter.”

Morton nodded, and said reluctantly, “I suppose, when you come right down to it, he’s right. The impulse to survive, being basic, could supersede all subsequent conditionings. Still” — he frowned — “we’d better not mention it. I think the scientists would feel insulted, and there’s enough bad feeling aboard.”

He turned and faced the group. “Gentlemen,” he said resonantly, “it seems clear that Mr. Grosvenor has made a case for his plan. All in favour of it, raise their hands.”

To Grosvenor’s intense disappointment, only about half a hundred hands came up, Morton hesitated, then said, “All against, raise theirs.”

This time just over a dozen hands were raised.

Morton pointed at a man in the front line. “You didn’t put yours up either time. What seems to be the trouble?”

The man shrugged. “I’m neutral. I don’t know whether I’m for it or against it. I don’t know enough.”

“And you?” Morton indicated another individual.

The man said, “What about secondary radiation?”

Captain Leeth answered that. “We’ll block it off. We’ll seal the entire area.” He broke off. “Director,” he said, “I don’t understand why this delay. The vote was fifty-nine to fourteen in favour of the Grosvenor plan. While my jurisdiction over scientists is limited even during a crisis, I regard that as a decisive vote.”

Morton seemed taken back. “But,” he protested, “nearly eight hundred men abstained.”

Captain Leeth’s tone was formal. “That was their privilege. It is expected that grown men know their own minds. The whole idea of democracy is based on that supposition. Accordingly, I order that we act at once.”

Morton hesitated, then said slowly, “Well, gentlemen, I am compelled to agree. I think we’d better get about our business. It’ll take time to set up the atomic projectors, so let’s start energizing levels seven and nine while we’re waiting. As I see it, we might as well combine the two plans, and abandon one or the other depending on the developing situation.”

“Now that,” said a man, with evident relief, “makes sense.”

The suggestion seemed to make sense to a lot of the men. Resentful faces relaxed. Somebody cheered, and presently the great human mass was flowing out of the huge chamber. Grosvenor turned to Morton.

“That was a stroke of genius,” he said. “I was too set against such limited energization to have thought of such a compromise.”

Morton acknowledged the compliment gravely. “I was holding it in reserve,” he said. “In dealing with human beings, I’ve noticed there is usually not only a problem to be solved but the matter of tension among those who have to solve it.” He shrugged. “During danger, hard work. During hard work, relaxation in every practicable form.”

He held out his hand. “Well, good luck, young man. Hope you come through safely.”

As they shook hands, Grosvenor said, “How long will it take to roll out the atomic cannon?”

“About an hour, perhaps a little longer. Meanwhile, we’ll have the big vibrators to protect us….”

The reappearance of the men brought Ixtl up to the seventh level with a rush. For many minutes, he was an abnormal shape that flitted through the wilderness of walls and floors. Twice he was seen, and projectors flashed at him. They were vibrators as different from the hand weapons he had faced so far as life from death. They shattered the walls through which he jumped to escape them. Once, the beam touched one of his feet. The hot shock from the molecular violence of the vibration made him stumble. The foot came back to normal in less than a second, but he had his picture of the limitations of his body against these powerful mobile units.

And still he was not alarmed. Speed, cunning, careful timing and placing of any appearance he made — such precautions would offset the effectiveness of the new weapons. The important thing was: What were the men doing? Obviously when they had shut themselves up in the engine room, they had conceived a plan, and they were carrying it out with determination. With glittering, unwinking eyes, Ixtl watched the plan take form.

In every corridor, men slaved over furnaces, squat things of dead-black metal. From a hole in the top of each furnace, a white glare spewed up, blazing forth furiously. Ixtl could see that the men were half blinded by the white dazzle of the fire. They wore space armour, but the ordinarily transparent glassite of which it was made was electrically darkened. Yet no light-metal armour could ward off the full effect of that glare. Out of the furnaces rolled long, dully glowing strips of material. As each strip emerged, it was snatched by machine tools, skilfully machined to exact measurements, and slapped on to the metal floors. Not an inch of floor, Ixtl noted, escaped being enclosed by the strips. And the moment the hot metal was down, massive refrigerators hugged close to it and drew its heat.

His mind refused at first to accept the result of his observations. His brain persisted in searching for deeper purposes, for a cunning of vast and not easily discernible scope. Presently, he decided that this was all there was. The men were attempting to energize two floors under a system of controls. Later, when they realized that their limited trap was not effective, they would probably try other methods. Just when their defensive system would be dangerous to him, Ixtl wasn’t certain. The important thing was that as soon as he did regard it as dangerous, it would be a simple matter to follow the men about and tear loose their energization connections.

Contemptuously, Ixtl dismissed the problem from his mind. The men were only playing into his hands, making it easier for him to get the guuls he still needed. He selected his next victim carefully. He had discovered in the man he had unintentionally killed that the stomach and intestinal tract were suitable for his purposes. Automatically, the men with the largest stomachs were on his list.

He made his preliminary survey, and then launched himself. Before a single projector could be turned towards him, he was gone with the writhing, struggling body. It was simple to adjust his atomic structure the moment he was through a ceiling, and so break his fall to the floor beneath. Swiftly, he let himself dissolve through that floor also, and down to the level below. Into the vast hold of the ship, he half fell, half lowered himself. He could have gone faster, but he had to be careful not to damage the human body.

The hold was familiar territory now to the sure-footed tread of his long-toed feet. He had explored the place briefly but thoroughly after he first boarded the ship. And, in handling von Grossen, he had learned the pattern he needed now. Unerringly, he headed across the dim-lit interior toward the far wall. Great packing cases were piled up to the ceiling. He went through them or around them, as it suited him, and presently found himself in a great pipe. The inside was big enough for him to stand up in. It was part of the miles long system of air conditioning.

His hiding place would have been dark by ordinary light. But to his infra-red-sensitive vision, a vague twilight glow suffused the pipe. He saw the body of von Grossen, and laid his new victim beside it. Carefully, then, he inserted one of his wiry hands into his own breast, removed a precious egg, and deposited it into the stomach of the human being.

The man was still struggling, but Ixtl waited for what he knew must happen. Slowly, the body began to stiffen. The muscles grew progressively rigid. In panic, the man squirmed and jerked as he evidently recognized that paralysis was creeping over him. Remorselessly, Ixtl held him down until the chemical action was completed. In the end, the man lay motionless, every muscle rigid. His eyes were open and staring. There was sweat on his face.

Within hours, the eggs would be hatching inside each man’s stomach. Swiftly, the tiny replicas of himself would eat themselves to full size. Satisfied, Ixtl started up out of the hold. He needed more hatching places for his eggs, more guuls.

By the time he had put a third captive through the process, the men were working on the ninth level. Waves of heat rolled along the corridor. It was an inferno wind. Even the refrigeration unit in each space suit was hard put to it to handle the superheated air. Men sweated inside their suits. Sick from the heat, stunned by the glare, they laboured almost by instinct.

Beside Grosvenor, a man said suddenly, harshly, “Here they come now!”

Grosvenor turned in the direction indicated, and stiffened in spite of himself. The machine that was rolling towards them under its own power was not big. It was a globular mass with an outer shell of wolfram carbide, and had a nozzle that protruded from the globe. The strictly functional structure was mounted on a universal bearing, which, in its turn, rested on a base of four rubber wheels.

All around Grosvenor, men had ceased work. Their faces pale, they stared at the metal monstrosity. Abruptly, one of them came over to Grosvenor and said angrily, “Damn you, Grove, you’re responsible for this. If I’m due to get irradiated by one of those things, I’d like to punch you one in the nose first.”

“I’ll be right here,” said Grosvenor in a steady voice. “If you get killed, so will I.”

That seemed to take some of the anger out of the other. But there was still violence in his manner and tone, as he said, “What the hell of nonsense is this? Surely there must be better plans than to make bait out of human beings.”

Grosvenor said, “There is another thing we can do.”

“What’s that?”

“Commit suicide!” said Grosvenor. And he meant it.

The man glared at him, then turned away muttering something about stupid jokes and moronic jokesters. Grosvenor smiled mirthlessly and went back to work. Almost immediately, he saw that the men had lost their zest for the job. An electric tension leaped from one individual to another. The slightest untoward action on the part of one person brought the others tautly erect.

They were bait. All over the various levels, men would be reacting to the death fear. No one could be immune, for the will to survive was built-in in the nervous system. Highly trained military men like Captain Leeth could put on an impassive front, but the tension would be there just under the surface. Similarly, people like Elliott Grosvenor could be grim but determined, convinced of the soundness of a course of action and prepared to take their chance.

“Attention, all personnel!”

Grosvenor jumped with the rest as that voice came out of the nearest communicator. It took a long moment before he recognized it as belonging to the commander of the ship.

Captain Leeth continued. “All projectors are now in position to levels seven, eight, and nine. You will be glad to know that I have been discussing the dangers involved with my officers. We make the following recommendations: If you see the creature, don’t wait, don’t look around! Throw yourself instantly to the floor. All weapon crews — right now — adjust your nozzles to fire at 50: 1½. That gives you all a clearance of one and a half feet. This will not protect you from secondary radiation, but I think we can honestly say that if you hit the floor in time, Dr. Eggert and his staff in the engine room will save your life.

“In conclusion” — Captain Leeth seemed more at ease, now that his main message had been delivered — “let me assure all ranks that there are no shirkers aboard. With the exception of the doctors and three invalid patients, every individual is in as great danger as you. My officers and I are divided among the various groups. Director Morton is down on the seventh level. Mr. Grosvenor — whose plan this is — is on level nine, and so on. Good luck, gentlemen!”

There was a moment’s silence. Then the leader of the gun crew near Grosvenor called in a friendly voice, “Hey, you fellows! We’ve made the adjustments. You’ll be safe if you can hit the deck in nothing flat.” Grosvenor called, “Thanks, friend.” Just for a moment, then, the tension eased. A mathematical-biology technician said, “Grove, butter him up some more with soft talk.”

“I always did love the military,” said another man. In a hoarse aside, he said loud enough for the gun crew to hear, “That ought to hold ’em off for that extra second I need.”

Grosvenor scarcely heard. Bait, he was thinking again. And no group would know when the moment of danger came for some other group. At the instant of “guncrit” — a modified form of critical mass, in which a small pile developed enormous energy without exploding — a tracer light would leap out of the muzzle. Along it and around it would pour the hard, silent invisible radiation.

When it was all over, the survivors would notify Captain Leeth on his private band. In due course, the commander would inform the other groups. “Mr. Grosvenor!”

Instinctively, as the sharp voice sounded, Grosvenor dived for the floor. He struck painfully, but came up almost immediately as he recognized Captain Leeth’s voice.

Other men were climbing ruefully to their feet. One man muttered, “Dammit, that wasn’t fair.”

Grosvenor reached the communicator. He kept his gaze warily on the corridor ahead of him, as he said, “Yes, Captain?”

“Will you come down to level seven at once? Central corridor. Approach from nine o’clock.” “Yes, sir.”

Grosvenor went with a sense of dread. There had been a tone in the captain’s voice. Something was wrong.

He found a nightmare. As he approached, he saw that one of the atomic cannon was lying on its side. Beside it, dead, burned beyond recognition, lay what had been three of the four military crew men of the projector. On the floor beside them unconscious but still twitching and squirming, all too evidently from a vibrator discharge, was the fourth crew man.

On the far side of the cannon, twenty men lay unconscious or dead, among them Director Morton.

Stretcher-bearers, wearing protective clothing, were dashing in, picking up a victim, and then racing off with him on a loading mule.

The rescue work had clearly been going on for several minutes, so there were probably more unconscious men already being tended in the engine room by Dr. Eggert and his staff.

Grosvenor stopped at a barrier that had been hastily erected at a turn in the corridor. Captain Leeth was there. The commander was pale but calm. In a few minutes, Grosvenor had the story.

Ixtl had appeared. A young technician — Captain Leeth did not name him — forgot in panic that safety lay on the floor. As the muzzle of the cannon came up inexorably, the hysterical youngster fired his vibrator at the crew, stunning them all. Apparently, they had hesitated slightly when they saw the technician in their line of fire. The next instant, each crew man was unknowingly contributing his bit to the disaster. Three of them fell against the cannon, and, instinctively clinging to it, swung it over on its side. It rolled away from them, dragging the fourth man along.

The trouble was he had hold of the activator, and for what must have been nearly a second he pressed it.

His three companions were in the direct line of fire. They died instantly. The cannon finished rolling over on its side, spraying one wall.

Morton and his group, though never in the direct line of fire, were caught by the secondary radiation. It was too soon to tell how badly they were injured, but at a conservative estimate they would all be in bed for a year. A few would die.

“We were a little slow,” Captain Leeth confessed. “This apparently happened a few seconds after I finished talking, but it was nearly a minute before somebody who heard the crash of the cannon toppling grew curious and glanced around this corner.” He sighed wearily. “At the very worst, I never expected anything as bad as an entire group being wiped out.”

Grosvenor was silent. This was why, of course, Captain Leeth had wanted the scientists unarmed. In a crisis, a man protected himself. He couldn’t help it. Like an animal he fought blindly for his life.

He tried not to think of Morton, who had realized that the scientists would resist being disarmed and who had thought up the modus operandi that would make the use of atomic energy acceptable to all. He said steadily, “Why did you call me?”

“My feeling is that this failure affects your plan. What do you think?”

Grosvenor nodded reluctantly. “The surprise element is gone,” he said. “He must have come up without suspecting what was waiting for him. Now, he’ll be careful.”

He could picture the scarlet monster poking his head through a wall, surveying a corridor — then boldly coming out beside one of the cannon and snatching one of the crew men. The only adequate precaution would be to set up a second projector to cover the first one. But that was out of the question — there were only forty-one available for the whole ship.

Grosvenor shook his head. Then he said, “Did he get another man?” “No.”

Once more Grosvenor was silent. Like the others, he could only guess at the creature’s reason for wanting living men. One of those guesses was based on Korita’s theory that the being was in a peasant stage and intent on reproducing himself. That suggested a bloodcurdling possibility, and a pressure of need on the part of the creature that would drive him after more human victims.

Captain Leeth said, “As I see it, he’ll be up again. My idea is that we leave the cannon where they are for the time being and finish energizing three levels. Seven is completed, nine is almost ready, and so we might as well go on to eight. This will give us three floors altogether. As far as the possible effectiveness of such a plan goes, we should consider that the creature has now captured three men in addition to von Grossen. In each case, he was seen to take them in what we call a downward direction. I suggest that, as soon as we have energized all three levels, we go to the ninth floor and wait for him. When he captures one of us, we wait momentarily; and then Mr. Pennons will throw the switch that sets up the force field in the floors. The creature will strike the eighth level, and find it energized. If he tries to go through, he will find that seven is also energized. If he comes up, he finds nine in the same deadly state. Either way, we force him to make contact with two energized floors.” The commander paused, looked thoughtfully at Grosvenor, and then said, “I know you considered that contact with only one level would not kill him. You were not so positive about two.” He stopped, and waited questioningly.

Grosvenor said, after a moment of hesitation, “I’ll buy that. Actually, we can only guess how it will affect him. Maybe we’ll all be pleasantly surprised.”

He didn’t believe that. But there was another factor in this developing situation: the convictions and hopes that men had. Only an actual event would change the minds of some people. When their ideas were altered by reality, then — and then only — they would be emotionally ready for more drastic solutions.

It seemed to Grosvenor that he was learning slowly but surely how to influence men. It was not enough to have information and knowledge, not enough to be right. Men had to be persuaded and convinced. Sometimes that might take more time than could safely be spared. Sometimes it couldn’t be done at all And so civilizations crumbled, battles were lost, and ships destroyed because the man or group with the saving ideas would not go through the long-drawn-out ritual of convincing others.

If he could help it, that was not going to happen here.

He said, “We can keep the atomic projectors in place till we finish energizing the floors. Then we’ll have to move them. Energization would bring guncrit even without the nozzle being open. They’d blow up.”

As deliberately as that he withdrew the Grosvenor plan from the battle against the enemy.