CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Contact!
Hoo-Lan led me into a room filled with all sorts of fascinating equipment.
“You know,” he said, as he began tinkering with some machinery, “I’ve spent a good part of my life trying to crack the secrets of telepathy.”
“You mean direct communication from one mind to another?” I asked.
He nodded. “The thing is,” he continued, staring at me intently, “you’ve got it. You went into my brain while you were being operated on and pulled out images. Jumbled ones, of course,” he added hastily. “But you did pull them out of my head, and you did it without training. I think something that happened on the operating table helped unleash the ability in you.”
He took the skimml from me and began squishing it back and forth. “You can’t understand what this means, Krepta, unless you know that we’ve been trying for lifetimes to create this ability in some of our people. By we, I mean the Interplanetary League. The best we’ve been able to do so far is piggyback on thought transmission with some of our machines. That’s the situation with your friend Duncan, by the way.”
“He’s not my friend!”
I regretted the words the instant they were out of my mouth. They made me sound small and petty. “What do you mean, anyway?” I asked, trying to cover up my stupid remark.
“Well, one of the early problems we had with star travel was that radio messages only move at the speed of light. Of course, this made it almost impossible to communicate between places that were light-years apart. We finally managed to invent a hyper-space transmitter, which gave us nearly instant contact between stars. Unfortunately, Broxholm had the only one on your planet. So when he was forced to flee, our remaining agent in Kennituck Falls, a female named Kreeblim, was left without a way to communicate with the ship after it had moved out of your solar system.
“To get around this, she used a brain enhancer on Duncan.”
“You mean she made him smart?” I cried. That explained what I had found when I connected with Duncan back on the mother ship.
“No, she didn’t make him smart,” said Hoo-Lan. “She simply unleashed some of his basic potential. You humans are so much smarter than you act, it’s appalling. Anyway, since thought is instant, by sending her messages through his brain, she is once more able to communicate with us.”
“So what’s the big deal about telepathy? Sounds like you already have it.”
Hoo-Lan shook his head. “No,” he said, passing Murgatroyd back to me. “It’s not the same as direct mind-to-mind communication. That’s what I’m after. That’s what you managed when you tapped into my head. And when you got through to Duncan Dougal today, before we left the ship, you managed it without the brain treatments and mechanical connections we have to use for such a communication. Only three beings on the New Jersey could have made that connection. And each of them has had extensive training and repeated brain stimulation, and has to be in a force field with hardware attached to do it.”
He looked at me. “But you—you did it without even trying. The secret is in there,” he said, pointing at my forehead, which he was too short to reach. “Just like the reason for Earth’s violence.”
I was sick of everyone thinking I had all the answers. “This isn’t the Encyclopaedia Britannica, you know,” I said, tapping my head myself. (Though I must admit I’d read quite a bit of the EB.) Then another thought struck me. “You don’t want to do more brain surgery on me, do you?” I asked, taking a step backward.
Hoo-Lan took my hand. “I just want to see if we can talk to each other,” he said, leading me to a machine that looked like the one I had seen in the communication room on the ship.
“You stand here,” said Hoo-Lan, positioning me under a metallic pyramid. “And I’ll sit over here, where I can get some readings on what’s going on inside your head. If you make contact, try using these dials to fine tune things. If things get too intense, punch this escape button.”
The whole thing had happened so fast I didn’t have time to think about whether or not I wanted to do it. I clutched Murgatroyd, feeling frightened and hopeful at the same time.
Hoo-Lan turned on the machine and said, “Now concentrate! Try to read my mind!”
I did as he asked. But instead of connecting with Hoo-Lan, I found myself back in contact with Duncan!
I couldn’t believe it. Light-years away from Earth, visiting a distant planet, and who do I end up in a psychic link with? Duncan Dougal!
I mean, gimme a break, folks.
Duncan wasn’t much happier than I was, though he didn’t know I was there yet. Actually, he was feeling something that I had felt more than once since this all started: unhappiness that other worlds had been watching us as we bumbled along, blowing each other up and starving ourselves when there was enough food for everyone. It’s embarrassing, he told himself.
It certainly is, I thought at him.
This time he heard me! I knew, because I was so linked to him that I could tell he wondered if he was losing his mind. Who is that? he thought.
Come on, Duncan—don’t you know who I am?
Peter? he thought in astonishment. Peter Thompson?
None other! Wait, let me try something here. I fiddled with the dials Hoo-Lan had showed me.
Where are you? asked Duncan.
Shhh! Wait!
He was bursting with curiosity. But he waited while I tinkered with the machine, which was a little like adjusting the antenna on a television set. Suddenly I got complete focus: not only was I inside Duncan’s brain, but Duncan was inside my brain.
To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure I liked the idea. I mean, in the past about the only way Duncan had communicated with me was through noogies and black eyes. But here we were, worlds apart, linked solely by our minds. So it was pretty exciting, even if it was Duncan. I could hear his thoughts as clearly as if he were speaking to me, instead of merely thinking.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“In space, silly. Where did you expect I would be? Oh, Duncan, it’s glorious. The stars! I can’t tell you. But it’s frightening, too. There’s a lot going on. Big things. And Earth is right in the middle of it. We’re right in the middle of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Interplanetary Council—that’s sort of a galaxywide United Nations—is trying to figure out what to do about us. We’ve got their tails in a tizzy because our planet is so weird. From what Broxholm has told me—”
“Wait!” he replied. “Tell me about Broxholm. Is he treating you all right?”
“Well, that’s kind of weird, too,” I said. “I’m never quite sure what’s going on with him. But listen, I’ve got to tell you this stuff first, because I’m not sure how long I can stay on, and you have to get word out to someone. Here’s the deal. The aliens are having a big debate among themselves about how to handle the Earth. And I don’t mean just Broxholm’s gang. We’re talking about hundreds of different planets here. As near as I can make out, they’ve narrowed it down to four basic approaches. One group wants to take over Earth, one group wants to leave us on our own, one group wants to blow the planet to smithereens, and one group wants to set up a blockade.”
“What?”
“They say it’s for the sake of the rest of the galaxy. They seem to find us pretty scary, Duncan.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Don’t ask me to explain how an alien’s mind works,” I snapped. “As far as I can make out, they think there’s something wrong with us. Well, two things, actually. The first is the way we handle things down there. That’s why they’ve been sending in people like Broxholm; they’re supposed to study us and figure out why we act the way we do.
“So Broxholm was some kind of anthropologist—?”
“You could put it that way,” I replied. I was astonished Duncan knew the word, until I remembered what had happened to him. “Anyway, the other thing that has them concerned is how smart we could be
if we ever got our act together. Broxholm actually seems jealous. Every once in a while he goes on about the human brain being the most underused tool in the galaxy. I get the impression they’re afraid if we learn to use our full intelligence before we get civilized—”
“We’re civilized!” cried Duncan in indignation.
“Not by their standards. Anyway, they’re afraid—”
I didn’t finish the sentence. Someone had entered the chamber. I heard a lot of scuffling and squawking.
“Uh-oh,” I said. “Something’s happening. I gotta go, Duncan.”
I pushed the escape button. Only I wished I hadn’t, because the sight that greeted me when I came out of my trance nearly broke my heart.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Fading Glow
Hoo-Lan lay on the floor, stretched out straight and stiff as a board. Several of the little blue people were gathered around him, squawking in dismay.
“What is it?” I cried, rushing over to him. “What’s happened?”
“The leader!” cried a green-haired woman. “What have you done to the leader?”
“It was the machine!” cried one of the men. “He knew he shouldn’t use the machine!”
“No, it’s not the machine,” another one shouted. “It’s him. It’s the earthling!”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “What’s wrong with Hoo-Lan?”
Before anyone could answer, the room was filled with a loud buzzing sound. It took me a moment to realize that the noise was coming from both Hoo-Lan’s URAT and mine.
“The ship!” cried one of the men. “The ship is leaving. You must get him back to the ship!”
“But he’s sick!” I said, nearly sick with fear myself.
“Yes. But he must be on the ship. Besides, his doctor is there. You must go back to the ship.”
Gathering around Hoo-Lan’s stiff body, the blue men and women picked him up and carried him to the room next door. The buzzing of the URAT grew more urgent.
“Stand here!” said one of the women, motioning to a circle on the floor. “Stand here!”
They put Hoo-Lan next to me. The men were pulling on their mustaches—a sign, my translator told me, of extreme grief.
“But what happened to him—?”
My words were cut off as a beam of blue light shot down from the ceiling, and we were sucked out of the city beneath the sea, through space, and back into the New Jersey.
I blinked. We were back in the room where we had started. “Hoo-Lan!” I cried, kneeling beside him. “Hoo-Lan, talk to me!”
He said nothing, only groaned a little. He was glowing, but only faintly.
Suddenly the alarm sounded. The ship was about to make a jump. I threw myself on the floor beside Hoo-Lan. Clutching Murgatroyd, who was chittering in alarm, I braced myself for the jump—and hoped that Hoo-Lan would live through it.
The horrible, high-pitched whine tore through the room, drowning my own moans of nausea. The tearing feelings began, became unbearable, and then ended. I lay next to Hoo-Lan, trembling and trying to recover, wondering how many light-years we had jumped, where we were now.
When I could push myself to my knees, I stared at Hoo-Lan. His glow was even fainter than before. I knew that he was dying.
I grabbed my URAT. “Give me the code for CrocDoc!” I cried. The moment the colored dots began to flash on the screen I raced across the room and punched the destination into the elevator. Then I ran back and tried to pick up Hoo-Lan. He was heavier than I thought, and his body was rigid, but I finally managed to get him into my arms.
Worried that I wouldn’t get back across the room before the elevator did an automatic shut-off, I struggled toward the wall. The shut-off alarm sounded just as I pitched forward, falling through the wall and into CrocDoc’s office.
Only CrocDoc wasn’t there.
“Find him!” I shouted at the URAT. “Find CrocDoc.”
The machine gave me another code. Leaving Hoo-Lan on the floor, I hurtled through the wall. Interrupting a meeting of some sort, I grabbed CrocDoc by the arm and said, “Your office! Quickly!”
To my relief, he didn’t try to brush me off; instead, he immediately followed me back through the wall to his office.
I slumped against the wall in relief. I had done what I could do. Or so I thought. CrocDoc asked me to help him get Hoo-Lan onto the table. He was examining him while I watched in fascinated horror when Broxholm’s voice came from the ceiling.
“Peter, you are wanted in the Council Room. The elevator is programmed. Please step through the wall.”
“But Broxholm—”
“Come at once!”
“Better go,” said CrocDoc. “I’ll take care of things here.”
“But is he—will he—?”
“I make no guarantees,” said CrocDoc. “However I believe he will still be here when you get back.”
Be here? What did that mean? Still on the table, but dead as a tubeless television? I started to say something, but Broxholm’s voice thundered through the speaker.
“Now, Peter!”
“Best go,” whispered CrocDoc.
I went.
Broxholm was waiting for me when I entered the chamber. So was the rest of the alien council, the eight beings I had encountered the first time I entered this room.
“Peter Thompson—Krepta—Child of the Stars—” said the sea-green alien. “The time is fast approaching when we will make a decision regarding the fate of the Earth.”
I considered bolting right then, racing off to the communication room to see if I could get one last message off to Duncan, somehow get him to warn the government, someone, anyone, who might be able to do something. Then at least the Earth might have a fighting chance.
“We offer you a chance to speak in Earth’s defense,” said the alien who hung on the rack. “Tell us something we do not know, something that might give us cause to think again as we deliberate.”
“You need to ask someone else,” I said desperately. “I’m only a kid! What can I tell you?”
“Then you refuse to speak on behalf of the planet?” asked the purple alien.
“No! That’s not what I mean! I just don’t know what to say. I haven’t lived enough, seen enough. I know there must be more good things out there than I have seen, things worth saving, things too wonderful too lose. I know it!”
“Yet you chose to leave,” said one of the aliens who had not spoken before this, a dark creature who looked more like a shadow than anything real and solid.
“I chose to leave, not to destroy it,” I said.
“All leaving involves a kind of destruction,” said the shadow. “The chick destroys the egg in hatching. No home is the same once someone has gone from it.”
“Why don’t you help us?” I cried. “You have answers, you can fix things.”
“You don’t need our answers,” said another alien. “Your problem is not shortage of food, or land. You live on one of the most blessed planets in the galaxy—or at least you used to, until you fouled it so. What could we offer you but technology? And what would you do with it but create new problems? The technology is not the problem. Hearts and minds, those are the problem.”
“Send me back,” I said, hardly able to believe the words were coming out of my mouth. “Let me find a reason for you. I won’t run away. I’m not afraid for myself. But I don’t want you to hurt my friends. I don’t want you to hurt my father!”
I stopped, astonished at what I had just said.
“Leave us for a time,” said the sea-green alien. “We need to deliberate.”
I looked at Broxholm. He nodded.
I left the chamber.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hoo-Lan’s Wish
I didn’t even program the elevator, since I figured the aliens would send me wherever they wanted me to go. Somewhat to my surprise, I found myself back at CrocDoc’s.
Hoo-Lan lay on the table, rigid and unmoving, his glow dimmer than ever.
> “How is he?” I whispered.
“Not good,” said CrocDoc.
I stood for a moment, staring at my friend, my teacher. “Can I do anything for him?” I asked quietly.
“No.”
“I’ll be back,” I said.
Moving quietly across the room, I instructed the URAT to send me back to the communication chamber where I had first made contact with Duncan. Glancing over my shoulder, feeling guilty for leaving, even though there was nothing I could do, I stepped through the wall.
What had happened to Hoo-Lan when he tried to make mental contact with me? Was this my fault? Was my human brain so poisonous it had done something terrible to his mind?
Once I reached the communication chamber, it took me a while to make contact with Duncan again. I wondered if he was still in the force field. After all, even though it had been only a couple of hours by my time since I spoke to him, the ship had made a space-shift since then. How much time had passed on Earth?
I fiddled with the controls, until I made contact with Duncan Dougal, my old enemy, my new ally. As I began to fine-tune the connection, it occurred to me that if this Kreeblim character they had mentioned had put Duncan in the force field, it might not be a good idea for me to say too much until I knew whether or not she was there.
“Duncan,” I thought. “Is there anybody there?”
“Just you and me.”
“Good.” I finished focusing the connection, so we could see each other. “Listen, things are heating up out here. The aliens are planning something. I don’t know what, but it’s big. You have to get word to the government.”
Duncan was explaining why he thought that was a stupid idea when we heard someone coming up the attic stairs.
“Pretend I’m not here,” I said desperately. “I can’t be caught talking to you like this. I’ll try to hold on, but I’ll break the connection if I have to.
“I understand,” said Duncan.
But the person who showed up at the top of the stairs was no menace. Well, aside from the fact that the sight of her did something strange to my insides.