The Hour of Battle

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  THE HOUR OF BATTLE

  BY ROBERT SHECKLEY

  ILLUSTRATED BY KRENKEL

  As one of the Guardian ships protecting Earth, the crew had a problem to solve. Just how do you protect a race from an enemy who can take over a man's mind without seeming effort or warning?

  "That hand didn't move, did it?" Edwardson asked, standing at the port,looking at the stars.

  "No," Morse said. He had been staring fixedly at the Attison Detectorfor over an hour. Now he blinked three times rapidly, and looked again."Not a millimeter."

  "I don't think it moved either," Cassel added, from behind the gunfirepanel. And that was that. The slender black hand of the indicator restedunwaveringly on zero. The ship's guns were ready, their black mouthsopen to the stars. A steady hum filled the room. It came from theAttison Detector, and the sound was reassuring. It reinforced the factthat the Detector was attached to all the other Detectors, forming agigantic network around Earth.

  "Why in hell don't they come?" Edwardson asked, still looking at thestars. "Why don't they hit?"

  "Aah, shut up," Morse said. He had a tired, glum look. High on his righttemple was an old radiation burn, a sunburst of pink scar tissue. From adistance it looked like a decoration.

  "I just wish they'd come," Edwardson said. He returned from the port tohis chair, bending to clear the low metal ceiling. "Don't you wishthey'd come?" Edwardson had the narrow, timid face of a mouse; but ahighly intelligent mouse. One that cats did well to avoid.

  "Don't you?" he repeated.

  The other men didn't answer. They had settled back to their dreams,staring hypnotically at the Detector face.

  "They've had enough time," Edwardson said, half to himself.

  Cassel yawned and licked his lips. "Anyone want to play some gin?" heasked, stroking his beard. The beard was a memento of his undergraduatedays. Cassel maintained he could store almost fifteen minutes worth ofoxygen in its follicles. He had never stepped into space unhelmeted toprove it.

  Morse looked away, and Edwardson automatically watched the indicator.This routine had been drilled into them, branded into theirsubconscious. They would as soon have cut their throats as leave theindicator unguarded.

  "Do you think they'll come soon?" Edwardson asked, his brown rodent'seyes on the indicator. The men didn't answer him. After two monthstogether in space their conversational powers were exhausted. Theyweren't interested in Cassel's undergraduate days, or in Morse'sconquests.

  They were bored to death even with their own thoughts and dreams, boredwith the attack they expected momentarily.

  "Just one thing _I'd_ like to know," Edwardson said, slipping with easeinto an old conversational gambit. "How far can they do it?"

  They had talked for weeks about the enemy's telepathic range, but theyalways returned to it.

  As professional soldiers, they couldn't help but speculate on the enemyand his weapons. It was their shop talk.

  "Well," Morse said wearily, "Our Detector network covers the system outbeyond Mars' orbit."

  "Where we sit," Cassel said, watching the indicators now that the otherswere talking.

  "They might not even know we have a detection unit working," Morse said,as he had said a thousand times.

  "Oh, stop," Edwardson said, his thin face twisted in scorn. "They'retelepathic. They must have read every bit of stuff in Everset's mind."

  "Everset didn't know we had a detection unit," Morse said, his eyesreturning to the dial. "He was captured before we had it."

  "Look," Edwardson said, "They ask him, 'Boy, what would you do if youknew a telepathic race was coming to take over Earth? How would youguard the planet?'"

  "Idle speculation," Cassel said. "Maybe Everset didn't think of this."

  "He thinks like a man, doesn't he? Everyone agreed on this defense.Everset would, too."

  "Syllogistic," Cassel murmured. "Very shaky."

  "I sure wish he hadn't been captured," Edwardson said.

  "It could have been worse," Morse put in, his face sadder than ever."What if they'd captured _both_ of them?"

  "I wish they'd come," Edwardson said.

  * * * * *

  Richard Everset and C. R. Jones had gone on the first interstellarflight. They had found an inhabited planet in the region of Vega. Therest was standard procedure.

  A flip of the coin had decided it. Everset went down in the scouter,maintaining radio contact with Jones, in the ship.

  The recording of that contact was preserved for all Earth to hear.

  "Just met the natives," Everset said. "Funny-looking bunch. Give you thephysical description later."

  "Are they trying to talk to you?" Jones asked, guiding the ship in aslow spiral over the planet.

  "No. Hold it. Well I'm damned! They're telepathic! How do you likethat?"

  "Great," Jones said. "Go on."

  "Hold it. Say, Jonesy, I don't know as I like these boys. They haven'tgot nice minds. Brother!"

  "What is it?" Jones asked, lifting the ship a little higher.

  "Minds! These bastards are power-crazy. Seems they've hit all thesystems around here, looking for someone to--"

  "Yeh?"

  "I've got that a bit wrong," Everset said pleasantly. "They are not sobad."

  Jones had a quick mind, a suspicious nature and good reflexes. He setthe accelerator for all the G's he could take, lay down on the floor andsaid, "Tell me more."

  "Come on down," Everset said, in violation of every law of spaceflight."These guys are all right. As a matter of fact, they're the mostmarvelous--"

  That was where the recording ended, because Jones was pinned to thefloor by twenty G's acceleration as he boosted the ship to the levelneeded for the C-jump.

  He broke three ribs getting home, but he got there.

  A telepathic species was on the march. What was Earth going to do aboutit?

  A lot of speculation necessarily clothed the bare bones of Jones'information. Evidently the species could take over a mind with ease.With Everset, it seemed that they had insinuated their thoughts intohis, delicately altering his previous convictions. They had possessedhim with remarkable ease.

  How about Jones? Why hadn't they taken him? Was distance a factor? Orhadn't they been prepared for the suddenness of his departure?

  One thing was certain. Everything Everset knew, the enemy knew. Thatmeant they knew where Earth was, and how defenseless the planet was totheir form of attack.

  It could be expected that they were on their way.

  Something was needed to nullify their tremendous advantage. But whatsort of something? What armor is there against thought? How do you dodgea wavelength?

  Pouch-eyed scientists gravely consulted their periodic tables.

  And how do you know when a man has been possessed? Although the enemywas clumsy with Everset, would they continue to be clumsy? Wouldn't theylearn?

  Psychologists tore their hair and bewailed the absence of an absolutescale for humanity.

  Of course, something had to be done at once. The answer, from atechnological planet, was a technological one. Build a space fleet andequip it with some sort of a detection-fire network.

  This was done in record time. The Attison Detector was developed, across between radar and the electroencephalograph. Any alteration fromthe typical human brain wave pattern of the occupants of aDetector-equipped ship would boost the indicator around the dial. Even abad dream or a case of indigestion would jar it.

  It seemed probable that any attempt to take over a human mind woulddisturb something. There had to be a point of interaction, somewhere.

  That was
what the Attison Detector was supposed to detect. Maybe itwould.

  The spaceships, three men to a ship, dotted space between Earth andMars, forming a gigantic sphere with Earth in the center.

  Tens of thousands of men crouched behind gunfire panels, watching thedials on the Attison Detector.

  The unmoving dials.

  * * * * *

  "Do you think I could fire a couple of bursts?" Edwardson asked, hisfingers on the gunfire button. "Just to limber the guns?"

  "Those guns don't need limbering," Cassel said, stroking his beard."Besides, you'd throw the whole fleet into a panic."

  "Cassel," Morse said, very quietly. "Get your hand off your beard."

  "Why should I?" Cassel asked.

  "Because," Morse answered, almost in a whisper, "I am about to ram itright down your fat throat."

  Cassel grinned and tightened his fists. "Pleasure," he said. "I'm tiredof looking at that scar of yours." He stood up.

  "Cut it," Edwardson said wearily. "Watch the birdie."

  "No reason to, really," Morse said, leaning back. "There's an alarm bellattached." But he looked at the dial.

  "What if the bell doesn't work?" Edwardson asked. "What if the dial isjammed? How would you like something cold slithering into your mind?"

  "The dial'll work," Cassel said. His eyes shifted from Edwardson's faceto the motionless indicator.

  "I think I'll sack in," Edwardson said.

  "Stick around," Cassel said. "Play you some gin."

  "All right." Edwardson found and shuffled the greasy cards, while Morsetook a turn glaring at the dial.

  "I sure wish they'd come," he said.

  "Cut," Edwardson said, handing the pack to Cassel.

  "I wonder what our friends look like," Morse said, watching the dial.

  "Probably remarkably like us," Edwardson said, dealing the cards. Casselpicked them up one by one, slowly, as if he hoped something interestingwould be under them.

  "They should have given us another man," Cassel said. "We could playbridge."

  "I don't play bridge," Edwardson said.

  "You could learn."

  "Why didn't we send a task force?" Morse asked. "Why didn't we bombtheir planet?"

  "Don't be dumb," Edwardson said. "We'd lose any ship we sent. Probablyget them back at us, possessed and firing."

  "Knock with nine," Cassel said.

  "I don't give a good damn if you knock with a thousand," Edwardson saidgaily. "How much do I owe you now?"

  "Three million five hundred and eight thousand and ten. Dollars."

  "I sure wish they'd come," Morse said.

  "Want me to write a check?"

  "Take your time. Take until next week."

  "Someone should reason with the bastards," Morse said, looking out theport. Cassel immediately looked at the dial.

  "I just thought of something," Edwardson said.

  "Yeh?"

  "I bet it feels horrible to have your mind grabbed," Edwardson said. "Ibet it's awful."

  "You'll know when it happens," Cassel said.

  "Did Everset?"

  "Probably. He just couldn't do anything about it."

  "My mind feels fine," Cassel said. "But the first one of you guys startsacting queer--watch out."

  They all laughed.

  "Well," Edwardson said, "I'd sure like a chance to reason with them.This is stupid."

  "Why not?" Cassel asked.

  "You mean go out and meet _them_?"

  "Sure," Cassel said. "We're doing no good sitting here."

  "I should think we could do something," Edwardson said slowly. "Afterall, they're not invincible. They're reasoning beings."

  Morse punched a course on the ship's tape, then looked up.

  "You think we should contact the command? Tell them what we're doing?"

  "No!" Cassel said, and Edwardson nodded in agreement. "Red tape. We'lljust go out and see what we can do. If they won't talk, we'll blast 'emout of space."

  "Look!"

  Out of the port they could see the red flare of a reaction engine; thenext ship in their sector, speeding forward.

  "They must have got the same idea," Edwardson said.

  "Let's get there first," Cassel said. Morse shoved the accelerator inand they were thrown back in their seats.

  "That dial hasn't moved yet, has it?" Edwardson asked, over the clamorof the Detector alarm bell.

  "Not a move out of it," Cassel said, looking at the dial with itsindicator slammed all the way over to the highest notch.

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from _Space Science Fiction_ September 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.