The Werewolf Principle

26

It was cold, a biting, deadening cold, like a physical blow that staggered the body and the mind.

The satellite of the planet hung above a ragged line of uplifted vegetation and the land was sterile and dry, while across the construction the humans called a fence leaped the raging creatures that were designated dogs.

But somewhere close was a bank of energy and Thinker grabbed at it — in need, in desperation, almost in a panic. Grabbed at it and took it, more than he had need of, far more than he had need of. The house went dark and on the pole the floodlight flickered and went out.

The cold was gone and his body fell into the pyramidal form and it glowed. The data was there once again, as it had been before, sharper, more concise than it had ever been before, ranged in ranks and files, waiting to be used. Inside his mind the logic process was clean and bright and sharp and it had been far too long since he had made use of it.

— Thinker, Quester yelled. Cut it out! The dogs! The dogs! The dogs!

And that was right, of course. He had known about the dogs and of Quester's plan and the plan was working.

The dogs were swerving, digging in their claws to halt their headlong rush, whimpering and yelping in sudden abject fright at this apparition which had replaced the wolf they had been chasing.

There was too much energy, Thinker realized with a prick of fear. Far too much — more than he could handle.

He got rid of it. He flared.

Crackling lightning flashed and the valley for a moment was lit up by the flare. The paint on the house curled and blackened, peeled.

The dogs, leaping back across the fence, howled as the lightning speared out at them. They fled, their tails tucked tight, their blistered rumps still smoking.