torrential river wherebrown, churning waters ran between high, difficult to climb cliffs.
There was no need for either of them to speak. They began looking fora place to cross the river. All the time they searched they could hearthe machine behind them, above them, humming safely out of theirrange.
The sun was low in the sky when they heard the second humming. Thehumming grew until it was a throbbing that covered the weaker sound ofthe robot and chilled Nelson.
"The patrol," he said, pushing the girl toward the forest. "Back intothe trees. We're going to have to fight it out with them."
They ran into the trees. The throbbing stopped and behind them, Nelsoncould hear the sounds made by men thrashing through the undergrowth.His palms were wet; he wiped them on his shirt front. The impendingcontact with the patrol gave him a calmness as always, and he pickedout a thicket where he believed he could make some sort of stand.
He reached the thicket with Glynnis behind him. Her gun was out. Hesigned to her to lower the intensity of the gun; she caught on. Hewatched her face. It was like a mask.
Nelson listened to the sounds of the approaching patrolmen. Five orsix, he decided. Plus a guard back at the flier. He'd figure on eight,in all, he decided. Then the first one showed behind some bushes.
Nelson touched Glynnis' arm in a signal to wait. The patrolman lookedaround, searching too intensely to find anything. He was young. Nelsondidn't think he would uncover their whereabouts and for a momentdebated letting him pass.
But he didn't want to be surrounded. He pulled his gun up and sightedcarefully before squeezing the trigger. In the tenth of a secondbefore the patrolman burst into flames, the blast produced a blastcircle that grew to the size of a basketball in his midsection. Thepatrolman fell without screaming.
The others were there now. Most of them were young and two rushedforward at the sight of their companion's death, to die like heroes.The others wisely sought cover. Nelson decided that the thicket wasn'tas safe as he'd hoped. One of the patrolmen was doing a good job withan energizer, coming closer with each shot, before Nelson finally sawwhere he was, and fired at him. Nelson saw the trunk of a large fallentree and pointed to it for Glynnis' benefit. She nodded.
There was cover most of the way. Nelson went first, crouching low tothe ground and running with the ease of a cat. He made the log andbegan firing to cover Glynnis. He saw her coming, out of the corner ofhis eye, then concentrated on covering her with firepower. Suddenlythe girl let out a startled yell and he saw her sprawl to the ground,tripping over a root. He called her name and without thinking leapedto his feet to run to help her. He was halfway there when thepatrolman came into range. Nelson realized what he had done. Glynniswas already on her feet and running. Cursing himself, Nelson jerkedhis gun around, but it was too late. An energizer blast exploded theground beneath him and he felt himself hurtling over backwards. Hecould only see blackness and the bright, quick, flashing of pin-pointlight in it. Then, he was falling, spinning....
* * * * *
Patrol Cadet Wallace Sherman watched the man on the table with mixedfeelings; on the one hand, there was pity for a man whose conditionwas hopeless, and on the other there were the misgivings that comewith guarding a criminal. Perhaps it was Sherman's youth that causedhim to emphasize those misgivings and move his hand toward his sidearmwhen the man stirred.
But the man on the table only stirred a little and groaned. Shermanwas not sure whether or not the man was coming to. He shouldn't be,Sherman knew. He took a couple of steps forward and starred at theman's face.
The man was breathing normally. His head moved slightly but his eyeswere still closed. His face was the palest, softest looking faceSherman had ever seen. It was the face of a man who had never knownsunlight, Sherman thought somberly; or at least had not known it inmany years. He wondered, vaguely just what kind of life the mandreamed he had. As he was watching the man's face, Sherman saw hislips move and heard him utter something he could not make out. He bentcloser to hear better.
"Glynnis"--the man on the table was saying.
"Is he waking up?" Sherman heard a voice asking.
A little embarrassed, Sherman turned around and saw Blomgard standingin the doorway, "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. No. At least I don't think so. Hesaid something; a word. _Glynnis_, I think. Sounds like a girl'sname."
Dr. Blomgard came into the room and walked over to the table on whichhis patient was stretched out. He removed the clipboard from its hookand looked through the sheaf of papers fastened to it. After a fewseconds, he said, "Ah, yes. Glynnis. Part of his dream."
"Doctor--," Sherman heard himself saying, then caught himself.
"What, cadet," Blomgard asked, turning around. He was a big man,gray-haired, his hair an unruly mop. His eyes were dark and piercing,but they were softened by the thickness of the white brows over them.
"Nothing, sir--"
"I assure you, that no question will be considered out of place, ifthat's what is worrying you."
"Well, doctor," Sherman said with some difficulty, "I was wondering ifall this is worth it. I mean a special reserve with the artificiallife-dreams for these people. Is it worth the expense and effort?"
Blomgard regarded the question a moment before answering. "Well, thatdepends on things. We have a fairly dynamic, expanding civilization.This man was born out of step; a natural born rebel. We've reached thestage where, with a little effort on their own part, most people cansooner or later find exactly what they want. There are, of course,exceptions. They can't help being the way they are, but they are thatway. It isn't his fault that he would think nothing of blowing up anycivilization he found himself living in. This is the solution."
"A drug-induced dream state? Is that a solution?"
"It's a pretty good one. We provide him with a completely fictitious,a totally unreal world in which he will be happy."
"How can anyone be happy like that? I prefer reality."
Blomgard smiled. "Yes, to a larger extent than he does, you do. Or youlike what you think of as reality." He picked up the clipboard againand studied the papers on it. "His dream world is one that is designedfor his happiness. In it, he sees everyone else as inhabiting thedream-coffin. And he pictures himself as a rugged individualist, goingabout trying to destroy such a civilization. And of course, he ispractically a lone wolf. Not completely, for he would not be happythat way. The man is an underdog."
"I guess it's best," Sherman said.
"It is," the doctor replied, seriously. "We have no right to take hislife; nor do have the right to destroy his personality, however muchthat personality may be offensive to us. And since most inhabitableplanets are, unfortunately, inhabited before we ever get to them, wehave more urgent colonies to establish where we can find room. No,this is best. We give him a dream based exactly on his psychologicalneeds; a compensation, so to speak, for the real life we take awayfrom him. For most people only have the right to pursue happiness. Inreturn for a normal life, we've given him a guaranteed happiness."
The doctor let that sink in for a while; but Sherman still had astrong wish that he had pulled some other duty. Perhaps on one of thenew outposts, like Deneb.
The doctor glanced at his watch. "Well, the repairs are done with andthey should have the nutrient refreshed by now. Let's wheel him onback."
A little gratefully, Sherman moved over to the table.
"You'll be all right, soon enough," the doctor said to the unconsciousman on the table. "This interruption will be neatly explained away andremain as merely a memory of a slightly unpleasant moment after thingsget back to normal. That'll convince you of the reality of yourworld--if you ever need convincing."
Sherman saw the sleeping man stir slightly and heard him utter soundsagain.
"Wheel him out," Blomgard said.
Gratefully, Sherman turned the table around and wheeled it out thedoor.
* * * * *
From far off, Nelson heard Glynnis calling to
him. "Are you all right,Hal?" he heard. "Can you hear me, Hal?"
"I can hear you," he managed to say. He opened his eyes. He saw hisgun a few dozen feet away on the ground.
"I thought they had you, sure," Glynnis said quietly. "I got the twoof them. Don't ask me how I did it, but I got them."
He sat up, feeling dizzy from having hit the ground with such force."I don't guess I was much help," he said weakly. "You sure did a finejob." His head ached, but the remembered the fight and being thrown bythe impact of the blast. And something else--something distant andalien, like a dream, from the deepest part of his mind. It pesteredhim a moment, just out of reach of his consciousness, then he shruggedit off as unimportant. He