Tin Woodman (9 page)

He stood. It was better, now. He had Mora back now, he told himself. Stupid of him to order that first psychemicidian treatment so hastily. But in a way that would be useful now—she
knew
what they were like, and the threat of further treatments could be a factor in his favor. She was the key . . . the link. If they could tap her, as Tamner had suggested they might . . .

There he was—stiff and alert in his seat next to the sensor console.

“Tamner?”

“Yes, sir.” Tamner rose to attention perfectly, yet with no grace of movement.

“Mr. Tamner, you are relieved of duties unrelated to our present project until further notice. The experiment will be accorded the utmost priority—your work is of great importance.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Briskly, Darsen leaned over his desk and punched out a code on his intercom controls.

“Security. Lieutenant Abriel,” erupted a voice immediately.

“Captain Darsen here. I have just spoken to our fugitives, Lieutenant. Orders are presently being dispatched to the shuttle craft on proper handling once the recapture is effected. I don’t expect trouble, but be ready for it should it come. Most important is that the woman, Mora Elbrun, is
not
harmed, whatever may happen. She is to be taken to her quarters and placed under guard there until further notice. She should have no visitors unless I am present. As for that man, Maurtan . . .” His voice turned hard. “Stick him in the brig. Make him uncomfortable—for the interim, until we can bring up proceedings against him.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Satisfied, Darsen flicked the intercom off, feeling more composed already. This was as a starship should be run. Captain? Yes, captain. With the captain’s permission . . . discipline, organization, obedience: without these, the crew of the
Pegasus
could not function together properly toward one goal. That this goal would be a personal one for Edan Darsen did not trouble him.

Yes. Perhaps he had mismanaged himself before. But now that he had a definite purpose in mind, he found it easier to moderate his fiery temper. And without that temper, he knew he had more respect from the crew. Respect, obedience, and efficiency would be rewarded. There would be glory enough for all if everything worked well. And Edan Darsen intended for things to work very well indeed.

Tamner was a good example of the sort of co-operation he needed. The first image that had come to him upon recovery of consciousness was that of Jin Tamner, standing by him—on guard against any further attacks. They had talked later and found much in common. And Tamner was sharp—very sharp. It was Tamner who had perceptively analyzed the potential meaning of what had happened with
Tin Woodman
—and it was Tamner who had suggested the course of action that Darsen had settled upon.

A brilliant man. He had been a research technician for Triplanetary Holo-Acoustical Communications Incorporated before he had joined the service. He had given Darsen the means by which he could see that this business with the alien was not yet over.

Tamner was a good officer. Tamner would not be forgotten once this affair was done with,

Tamner. He had to discuss something with him immediately. But he had been relieved . . .

A quick sweep of his gaze found him standing by the lift. “Ah, Tamner. I’m glad you’re not gone.”

An obedient jerk of his neck: Tamner nodded curtly, jostling his thick thatch of perfectly styled hair. “You did not give permission to leave the bridge, Captain. And I thought you might wish—”

“Yes.” He looked at him thoughtfully. Tamner’s face was expressionless.
Tamner
had no problem keeping his emotions in check—if he had any emotions at all. “Yes, Tamner. You’re quite right. With all this commotion of late, we’ve not had the opportunity to discuss the apparatus you’ve devised. I thought we might get down to it. Hungry?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good. I sure am. We’ll talk in the mess hall.” He looked over to where Norlan sat. “Lieutenant Norlan, I’m taking a break; you have command. Call Lieutenant Garyve to relieve you at the communications console.”

“Yes, Captain,” Norlan replied, immediately carrying out the order.

A different sort from Tamner, this Norlan, thought Darsen. Both good men—but Norlan had opposed him at that briefing. Technically he had been within his rights—but it was a displeasure to Darsen nonetheless. Well, a certain amount of friction among the officers was to be expected, sometimes. The fellow would simply have to learn that
Darsen’s
authority aboard ship was absolute. He would come around.

And if not—well, he could easily be replaced.

When they reached the mess hall, it was practically deserted.

Tamner ordered a full meal. Darsen selected oddments of fruit and a pot of coffee. His hands full with the tray, he nodded Tamner toward an officers’ alcove. He didn’t want their conversation to be overheard.

“Have you had any difficulty finding the equipment you need for your device?” Darsen asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

After hastily gulping down his mouthful of food, Tamner said, “Between MedSec and engineering stores I’ve been able to do it. The doctors don’t like my taking over their precious holo-scanner.”

Darsen shrugged. “If you need it, use it. I certainly don’t understand this well enough to second-guess you, and neither do they.”

“They understand it well enough. They just don’t like it. The principles of the memory scanner aren’t that new. It works, basically, by energetic stimulation of certain brain areas. In this case, we’ve found a way to use coherent sound energy for that purpose.”

Darsen frowned. “If it’s so simple—”

“Why hasn’t it been done?” Tamner finished for him. “As I said, in
principle
it’s simple. But think: we’re trying to find one particular piece of information which is buried in Mora Elbrun’s subconscious memory. We need computer equipment to rapidly evaluate and reject everything that comes to the surface except what we’re looking for. This in itself is complicated to set up. Beyond this, we need, Elbrun’s co-operation.”

“Then this device can’t be used on a person against his will.”

“If necessary, it can—but it’s dangerous and takes much longer. If Elbrun
wants
to remember, she can sift her memory faster than the computers can. Machines have their limitations. Without her cooperation we’d need a medical technician familiar with interrogation drugs.”

“Has the memory scanner ever been used that way?”

“Well . . . THC had us work the procedure out. Galactic Command wanted to use it on Goridan during the rebellion.”

“Did they?”

“I really don’t know. Wasn’t my affair. Brass just told me to develop the damned thing. I did, I got paid-including a percentage of patent royalties, which have been meager so far. I’m surprised you aren’t familiar with it.”

“No. I had other things to think about during that time. I have to admit, though, I don’t much like the principle of this device. Too much like telepathy for my taste. I don’t know about you, Tamner, but reading minds to me is a fundamental invasion of human privacy. I regard those that exercise these talents as moral criminals.”

“I could not agree with you more,” responded Tamner quickly. “But that would not quite be the case here. This is much more primitive than telepathy. If anything, it should be easier to use on EIbrun, if she co-operates. She’s primed for it, you might say. But then again, she does have the blocks and barriers that all espers develop. As for your hesitancy—I’m sure the end will justify the means.”

“Of course,” said Darsen. “As for those blocks you mentioned, Elbrun won’t use them. She’ll co-operate.”

“Well, whatever you say. But it’s a shame you have to bargain with her for that co-operation.” His eyes took on a fiery aspect; a flicker of emotion beneath the cool exterior. “She’s
dangerous
. Even under an injection of psychemicidian she managed to get this Maurtan to help attempt an escape.”

Darsen found his jaw muscles tightening involuntarily. His voice was terse. “Yes. I agree. I have personal experience with the danger she represents, as you may recall. I’d just as soon blank her, or toss her out into deep space without a suit. I do wish I knew exactly what happened. As far as I can tell, they didn’t even know one another. I don’t care to bargain with her, Tamner. But as you say, her co-operation will speed the discovery of the information we need on
Tin Woodman.
Obtaining that information is of paramount importance.”

Tamner finished his last forkful of food thoughtfully, then pushed away his tray. “Why?”

Darsen sipped the cooling coffee. It was bitter. He was acutely aware of the silence about him that rendered his thoughts quite stark. He had mentioned to Tamner before about what he had heard had happened after Mora Elbrun had attacked him. There was no doubt that Mora had been somehow in contact with
Tin Woodman
then—and it was Tamner who had suggested the method by which they might extract the exact memory from her for the details they needed. But Tamner did not suspect what he was all too sure was the truth; as in Mora, though to a lesser extent, there were memories—an experience, buried in his mind, and the minds of the entire crew—planted there by this alien creature.

He knew his own mind quite well. There had been nightmares . . . “There are several reasons, Tamner. All good ones. Why not just forget about the whole thing and be about our business, you ask. Let me ask you something first, Tamner, Do you like Talents?”

The man’s grimace was sufficient reply.

“No,” Darsen said. “Nor I. I’ve never liked them. I truly do not believe that they are a normal growth in the development of mankind. They are freaks; they have no place in mankind’s history. Perhaps they have their own destiny. God knows. But I don’t want them messing about in our destiny,
our
ideals for the future. Mankind is only as strong as each of its individuals—we must train ourselves to rely only on our own inner resources. To be no one but ourselves, forge our own individual destinies, take charge of our own lives. This is the lesson of natural selection; and the lesson each of us should listen to, for it comes from within. But the Talents? They’re trying to defeat the individual—two or more of them together, and you’ve got a conspiracy against individuality—theirs
and
ours. Take the behavior of Div Harlthor and Mora Elbrun—and yes,
Tin Woodman
too. They tried to
kill
me! And I know they would have if they could. I know. They’re different, Tamner; a sinister difference. From the beginning I got the impression of conspiracy—which was shown to be true with their team effort to foul up contact with the alien. And that creature—it must have a Talent—and much more. But maybe people like Elbrun and Harlthor have more in common with that alien than they do with
us.
Therefore, I see that alien, in conjunction with these ‘Talents,’ as we call them, as definitely hostile not only to the Triunion, but to the future of individuality in man. Why else did it, in conjunction with Elbrun and Harlthor, react in such a way when it awoke?”

“I see what you mean.”

“Yes. It would be of utmost service to the Triunion and to the human race to find this creature before it finds others of its kind. Find it and
destroy
it before it notifies them of our existence—and the existence of the Talents within our midst.”

“There’s more, though, isn’t there, Darsen?”

Darsen nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

“You want revenge.”

“A poor enough word, but it will do.”

Tamner let a smile creep up on his face. “And you want redemption, don’t you, Captain Darsen? You want power for your particular rugged individuality.”

Darsen frowned. “Well, man. What do
you
want?”

“Everything I can get.”

Darsen grinned. “Excellent. It’s good to know I’m working with my own kind.”

But Darsen did not mention to the man the other reason that gnawed in him. It would be impossible to make Tamner understand; not without revealing in full what he could hardly bear to remember: that moment when Mora had driven her mind into his—and he knew that it was more than just
her
mind. For it was as if he had been swept from the bridge of the starship into a sudden surging feeling of defenselessness, nakedness. As though he had been hurled, unprotected, toward the distant stars. He had felt his soul open to the penetrating gaze of the universe and all its creatures.

Upon recovery of consciousness, he did not remember the experience. It must have taken place in a fraction of a second. Even now, during his waking hours, the memory was like an ancient, half-buried guilt, a fluttering movement at the periphery of his mind’s eye’s range. In darkness, in sleep, the memory returned, clothed as nightmare.

No, it was not merely out of a desire for vengeance that Edan Darsen wished to pursue
Tin Woodman.
Nor was it out of simple desire for redemption and glory in the eyes of the Triunion. Darsen hated
Tin Woodman.
Hated it because he feared it. Feared it because of what it had revealed to him.