“Yes, I know.” Bocello sobered. “The whole thing’s built around the I.D.E.” He leaned forward, suddenly intense, eyes burning. “Very fast, Tod—before the whole program’s just an historical document!”
Dar fastened his webbing and looked around at the luxurious cavern of the shuttle’s passenger cabin. “Little different from a burro-boat, isn’t it?”
“You could put two of them inside here,” Sam agreed. “Maybe three.”
Dar swiveled his head to look at her, puzzled. “You’ve been awfully moody these past couple of hours. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Sam shook her head with total conviction. “Absolutely nothing is wrong.” But she still gazed off into space.
“It was that call from Horatio Bocello that did it, isn’t it? What was so bad about it—didn’t realize the I.D.E. was in this bad a shape?”
“That is saddening,” Sam agreed. “But I’m not saddened.”
“Then what are you?”
“Dazzled,” she said frankly.
Dar stared at her for a second. Then he smiled. “Never saw anybody that rich talking just like an ordinary person, huh? Yeah, it kind of got to me, too.”
“Not that,” she objected. “… Well, maybe a little. But what got me was his face!”
“Face?” Dar stared again.
She nodded. “That forehead! That blade of a nose! Those cheekbones! And … those eyes!”
Dar turned his head a little to the side, watching her. “Are you trying to tell me you thought he was handsome?”
“ ‘Handsome.’ That’s a good word for it. ‘Attractive’ is better. Maybe even … ‘compelling.’ ”
Dar began to have serious doubts. “I thought you were supposed to be an ascetic—an anti-materialist.”
She turned a gaze full of scorn on him. “You take beauty wherever you find it, gnappie, and you keep the memory of it alive in your heart. I’ll probably never even talk to this man and, when this whole escapade is over, never see him again, either. But I’ll never forget that I did, and the memory of it will make the rest of my life that much richer.”
As they were crowding off the shuttle at Newark Interplanetary, Dar overheard some girl-talk between Sam and Lona.
“Married? Never,” Lona said firmly. “Never even seen with a lady ‘friend’ very often. That’s brought the usual run of snide comments, of course.”
“About his masculinity?”
“And his sexuality, period! He reinforces that one, too—claims to be asexual. Says there’s no point in sex unless you’re in love.”
“What a medieval romantic,” Sam murmured dreamily.
Somehow, Dar didn’t think they were talking about Whitey.
They strode down the concourse toward the main terminal, laughing and chattering. Dar felt heady, almost drunk. He was on Terra! The Terra of his history books, of Cicero and Caeser and the Plantagenets and Lincoln! The Terra of fable and wonder! He walked on a thick red carpet, surrounded by wall-screens flashing displays of arrival and departure times between spates of advertising—just the way he’d pictured it from his books!
Suddenly the wall-screens cleared. A giant chime sounded, reverberating throughout the entire building. All around them, conversation slackened and died; all faces turned to the wall-screens.
“Citizens,” a resonant voice intoned, “the Honorable Kasi Pohyola, Chairman of the LORDS, and Majority Leader in the Assembly of Electors of the Interstellar Dominions.”
A stern but gentle face appeared, surmounted by wavy, snow-white hair, gazing directly at Dar. He almost jumped out of his skin.
“Citizens,” the face intoned in a deep, resonant voice, “a huge calamity has befallen us. An insidious danger stalks toward us across the stars—nay, has stalked us, has arrived, is even now in our midst! It may be the person beside you, or behind you—or even inside your head! For know, citizens, that there is no real guarding against this evil monstrosity, no wall that will seal it away, no shield that will stand against it—for it is a telepath! Even now, he may be probing your mind, wrapping his thoughts about your heart, cozening your innermost secrets!
“But worse, citizens—he is not alone! Our agents have shadowed him from the outermost colony planets, in to Terra herself—always treading upon his shadow, but never able to pounce on the creature—for always, just as they were about to close their trap, he has disappeared, spirited away by his friends and sympathizers on a thousand planets!”
“Only ninety-three,” Whitey muttered, “as of last year’s census report.”
“Who could have assisted such a one?” Pohyola rumbled. “Who would give aid and solace to a being who could probe their innermost thoughts—save another telepath? That, citizens, is why we are sure there are many telepaths, spread throughout the Terran Sphere, on each and every one of its member planets—and including Terra herself!”
A horrified murmur and buzzing of oaths and curses spread through the concourse. It fairly made the hairs stand on Dar’s head. He glanced at his companions—they were all watching with set, pale faces, lips drawn tight.
Except Whitey. He just looked sad.
Pohyola stared into the camera, not speaking, just holding the viewers’ gazes with his own—apparently he’d been planning on the reaction. Just as it was quieting, he began to speak again. “Our vaunted I.D.E. Security Force has been impotent to stop them—these millions of highly trained warriors for whom we pay trillions of therms every year! Are they inept? No! Are they lazy or cowardly? No! They are brave, capable heroes, every one of them! Then, why have they not been able to seize this horror? Because, while he has been slipping into hiding, they have had to find a magistrate and present proof of need for a search warrant! Because they have had to waste time securing proof of his guilt in order to obtain that warrant—though they have known, all along, what he is! Because the courts will not allow these fine officers to monitor the communications between this monster and his minions!”
He glared down out of the screen in righteous wrath. “They are impeded at every turn, they are balked at every approach! And, while the courts dither and obstruct them, the telepath moves unimpeded onto our fair mother planet!” He shook his head slowly. “Citizens, this has gone too far! This obsession with legal pettifoggery has now imperiled your lives and mine, nay, even the fabric of our whole society! Who now can feel free to nurture secret hopes or longings, to dream of his beloved or reflect on his sins—knowing that, every moment, another’s mind may have wormed its way into his, cozening up to his dearest, most cherished secrets!
“Nay! The time has come to put a stop to the nonsense! To purge the technicalities and loopholes that let the criminal escape while the law-abiding citizen shuffles in chains! To exorcize the demons of law! Make no mistake, citizens—a vast conspiracy of telepaths has wrapped its coils around us, and is even now beginning to squeeze the life from our democracy!
“Will they triumph? Nay!” he thundered. “We will tear their coils apart, we will rip them asunder! The law will cease obstructing the champions of justice!”
Then, suddenly, his eyes were locked onto Dar’s again, burning. “But this cannot be done while Executive Secretary Louhi Kulervo dithers and vacillates! A man of decision must take the helm, a man of true strength, who does not waste expanses of time mewling about ‘sacred trusts’ and ‘constitutionality’!”
He took a deep breath, very obviously fighting down wrath, struggling for composure, then said more calmly:
“It is for these reasons, citizens, that I will, today, demand a vote of confidence in the Assembly, and a general election. We must succeed in forcing this referendum, my fellow citizens—or we will waken one morning to find ourselves enmeshed in chains of thought! Contact your Elector, now, this minute, and tell him to demand an election. We must have it, citizens—we must have a man of decision and action to lead us—or the light of democracy will flicker out, and die!”