The Greatest Works of E. E. Smith. E. E. Smith

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      Three officers were called in and Kinnison explained. “I’ve been working for a long time on a mind-controller, and I want to see if it works. I’ll put your books on this table, one in front of each of you. Now I would like to try to make two or three of you—all four of you if I can—each bend over, pick up his book, and hold it. Your part of the game will be for each of you to try not to pick it up, and to put it back as soon as you possibly can if I do make you obey. Will you?”

      “Sure!” three of them chorused, and “There will be no mental damage, of course?” asked the commander.

      “None whatever, and no after-effects. I’ve had it worked on myself, a lot.”

      “Do you want any apparatus?”

      “No, I have everything necessary. Remember, I want top resistance.”

      “Let her come! You’ll get plenty of resistance. If you can make any one of us pick up a book, after all this warning, I’ll say you’ve got something.”

      Officer after officer, in spite of strainingly resisting mind and body, lifted his book from the table, only to drop it again as Kinnison’s control relaxed for an instant. He could control two of them—any two of them—but he could not quite handle three. Satisfied, he ceased his efforts; and, as the base commander poured long, cold drinks for the sweating five, one of his fellows asked:

      “What did you do, anyway, Kinnison—oh, pardon me, I shouldn’t have asked.”

      “Sorry,” the Tellurian replied uncomfortably, “but it isn’t ready yet. You’ll all know about it as soon as possible, but not just now.”

      “Sure,” the Radeligian replied. “I knew I shouldn’t have blasted off as soon as I spoke.”

      “Well, thanks a lot, fellows.” Kinnison set his empty glass down with a click. “I can make a nice progress report on this do-jig now. And one more thing. I did a little long-range experimenting on one of your computers last night .”

      “Desk Twelve? The one who thought he wanted to integrate something?”

      “That’s the one. Tell him I was using him for a mind-ray subject, will you, and give him this fifty-credit bill? Don’t want the boys needling him too much.”

      “Yes, and thanks . and . I wonder .” the Radeligian Lensman had something on his mind. “Well . can you make a man tell the truth with that? And if you can, will you?”

      “I think so. Certainly I will, if I can. Why?” Kinnison knew that he could, but did not wish to seem cocksure.

      “There’s been a murder.” The other three glanced at each other in understanding and sighed with profound relief. “A particularly fiendish murder of a woman—a girl, rather. Two men stand accused. Each has a perfect alibi, supported by honest witnesses; but you know how much an alibi means now. Both men tell perfectly straight stories, even under a lie-detector, but neither will let me—or any other Lensman so far—touch his mind.” Gerrond paused.

      “Uh-huh.” Kinnison understood. “Lots of innocent people simply can’t stand Lensing and have mighty strong blocks.”

      “Glad you’ve seen such. One of those men is lying with a polish I wouldn’t have believed possible, or else both are innocent. And one of them must be guilty; they are the only suspects. If we try them now we make fools of ourselves, and we can’t put the trial off very much longer without losing face. If you can help us out you’ll be doing a lot for the Patrol, throughout this whole sector.”

      “I can help you,” Kinnison declared. “For this, though, better have some props. Make me a box—double Burbank controls, with five baby spots on it—orange, blue, green, purple, and red. The biggest set of headphones you’ve got, and a thick, black blindfold. How soon can you try ’em?”

      “The sooner the better. It can be arranged for this afternoon.”

      The trial was announced, and long before the appointed hour the great court-room of that world’s largest city was thronged. The hour struck. Quiet reigned. Kinnison, in his somber gray, strode to the judge’s desk and sat down behind the peculiar box upon it. In dead silence two Patrol officers approached. The first invested him reverently with the headphones, the second so enwrapped his head in black cloth that it was apparent to all observers that his vision was completely obscured.

      “Although from a world far distant in space, I have been asked to try two suspects for the crime of murder,” Kinnison intoned. “I do not know the details of the crime nor the identity of the suspects. I do know that they and their witnesses are within these railings. I shall now select those who are about to be examined.”

      Piercing beams of intense, vari-colored light played over the two groups, and the deep, impressive voice went on:

      “I know now who the suspects are. They are about to rise, to walk, and to seat themselves as I shall direct.”

      They did so; it being plainly evident to all observers that they were under some awful compulsion.

      “The witnesses may be excused. Truth is the only thing of importance here; and witnesses, being human and therefore frail, obstruct truth more frequently than they further its progress. I shall now examine these two accused.”

      Again the vivid, weirdly distorting glares of light lashed out; bathing in intense monochrome and in various ghastly combinations first one prisoner, then the other; the while Kinnison drove his mind into theirs, plumbing their deepest depths. The silence, already profound, became the utter stillness of outer space as the throng, holding its very breath now, sat enthralled by that portentous examination.

      “I have examined them fully. You are all aware that any Lensman of the Galactic Patrol may in case of need serve as judge, jury, and executioner. I am, however, none of these; nor is this proceeding to be a trial as you may have understood the term. I have said that witnesses are superfluous. I will now add that neither judge nor jury are necessary. All that is required is to discover the truth; since truth is all-powerful. For that same reason no executioner is needed here—the discovered truth will in and of itself serve us in that capacity.

      “One of these men is guilty, the other is innocent. From the mind of the guilty one I am about to construct a composite, not of this one fiendish crime alone, but of all the crimes he has ever committed. I shall project that composite into the air before him. No innocent mind will be able to see any iota of it. The guilty man, however, will perceive its every revolting detail; and, so perceiving, he will forthwith cease to exist in this plane of life.”

      One of the men had nothing to fear—Kinnison had told him so, long since. The other had been trembling for minutes in uncontrollable paroxysms of terror. Now this one leaped from his seat, clawing savagely at his eyes and screaming in mad abandon.

      “I did it! Help! Mercy! Take her away! Oh . . . h . . h!!” he shrieked, and died, horribly, even as he shrieked.

      Nor was there noise in the court-room after the thing was over. The stunned spectators slunk away, scarcely daring even to breathe until they were safely outside.

      Nor were the Radeligian officers in much better case. Not a word was said until the five were back in the base commander’s office. Then Kinnison, still white of face and set of jaw, spoke. The others knew that he had found the guilty man, and that he had in some peculiarly terrible fashion СКАЧАТЬ