Short Fiction, Poul Anderson [simple e reader .TXT] 📗

destroy the ship at the flick of a switch. They won’t know it. They haven’t an inkling about subspatial flows. Then, when an opportunity to escape offers itself, we throw that switch and get away and try to return to Sol. With my knowledge of Vwyrddan science, we can turn the tide of the war. It’s risky⁠—sure⁠—but it’s the only chance I see. And for Heaven’s sake let me handle matters. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“And what happens when we finally settle this business? How can I get rid of you?”

“Frankly, I don’t see any way to do it. Our patterns have become too entangled. The scanners necessarily work on the whole nervous system. We’ll just have to learn to live together.” Persuasively: “It will be to your own advantage. Think, man! We can do as we choose with Sol. With the Galaxy. And I’ll set up a life-tank and make us a new body to which we’ll transfer the pattern, a body with all the intelligence and abilities of a Vwyrddan, and I’ll immortalize it. Man, you’ll never die!”

It wasn’t too happy a prospect, thought Laird skeptically. His own chances of dominating that combination were small. In time, his own personality might be completely absorbed by Daryesh’s greater one.

Of course⁠—a psychiatrist⁠—narcosis, hypnosis⁠—

“No, you don’t!” said Daryesh grimly. “I’m just as fond of my own individuality as you are.”

The mouth which was theirs twisted wryly in the dark. “Guess we’ll just have to learn to love each other,” thought Laird.

The body dropped into slumber. Presently Laird’s cells were asleep, his personality faded into a shadowland of dreams. Daryesh remained awake a while longer. Sleep⁠—waste of time⁠—the Immortals had never been plagued by fatigue⁠—

He chuckled to himself. What a web of lies and counterlies he had woven. If Joana and Laird both knew⁠—

The mind is an intricate thing. It can conceal facts from itself, make itself forget that which is painful to remember, persuade its own higher components of whatever the subconscious deems right. Rationalization, schizophrenia, autohypnosis, they are but pale indications of the self-deception which the brain practices. And the training of the Immortals included full neural coordination; they could consciously utilize the powers latent in themselves. They could by an act of conscious will stop the heart, or block off pain, or split their own personalities.

Daryesh had known his ego would be fighting whatever host it found, and he had made preparations before he was scanned. Only a part of his mind was in full contact with Laird’s. Another section, split off from the main stream of consciousness by deliberate and controlled schizophrenia, was thinking its own thoughts and making its own plans. Self-hypnotized, he automatically reunited his ego at such times as Laird was not aware, otherwise there was only subconscious contact. In effect a private compartment of his mind, inaccessible to the Solarian, was making its own plans.

That destructive switch would have to be installed to satisfy Laird’s waking personality, he thought. But it would never be thrown. For he had been telling Joana that much of the truth⁠—his own advantage lay with the Janyards, and he meant to see them through to final victory.

It would be simple enough to get rid of Laird temporarily. Persuade him that for some reason it was advisable to get dead drunk. Daryesh’s more controlled ego would remain conscious after Laird’s had passed out. Then he could make all arrangements with Joana, who by that time should be ready to do whatever he wanted.

Psychiatry⁠—yes, Laird’s brief idea had been the right one. The methods of treating schizophrenia could, with some modifications, be applied to suppressing Daryesh’s extra personality. He’d blank out that Solarian⁠ ⁠… permanently.

And after that would come his undying new body, and centuries and millennia in which he could do what he wanted with this young civilization.

The demon exorcising the man⁠—He grinned drowsily. Presently he slept.

The ship drove through a night of stars and distance. Time was meaningless, was the position of the hands on a clock, was the succession of sleeps and meals, was the slow shift in the constellations as they gulped the light-years.

On and on, the mighty drone of the second-order drive filling their bones and their days, the round of work and food and sleep and Joana. Laird wondered if it would ever end. He wondered if he might not be the Flying Dutchman, outward bound for eternity, locked in his own skull with the thing that had possessed him. At such times the only comfort was in Joana’s arms. He drew of the wild young strength of her, and he and Daryesh were one. But afterward⁠—

We’re going to join the Grand Fleet. You heard her, Daryesh. She’s making a triumphal pilgrimage to the gathered power of Janya, bringing the invincible weapons of Vwyrdda to her admiral.

Why not? She’s young and ambitious, she wants glory as much as you do. What of it?

We have to escape before she gets there. We have to steal a lifeboat and destroy this ship and all in it soon.

All in it? Joana Rostov, too?

Damn it, we’ll kidnap her or something. You know I’m in love with the girl, you devil. But it’s a matter of all Earth. This one cruiser has enough stuff in it now to wreck a planet. I have parents, brothers, friends⁠—a civilization. We’ve got to act!

All right, all right, Laird. But take it easy. We have to get the energy devices installed first. We’ll have to give them enough of a demonstration to allay their suspicions. Joana’s the only one aboard here who trusts us. None of her officers do.

The body and the double mind labored as the slow days passed, directing Janyard technicians who could not understand what it was they built. Laird, drawing on Daryesh’s memories, knew what a giant slept in those coils and tubes and invisible energy-fields. Here were forces to trigger the great creative powers of the universe and turn them to destruction⁠—distorted space-time, atoms dissolving into pure energy, vibrations