There wasn’t anything I could do about Paynter. He was almost fully awake, and reaching half dazedly for the gun at his belt. Topaz, twisting furiously, was trying now to center her paralyzing weapon on me. Above us the shell of force began to tatter again. There was a limit to Belem’s powers.
My mind, ranging wildly for an answer, stumbled upon the mad thought of re-hypnotizing Paynter. I knew I had not the power but—suddenly my glance fell upon the glittering little tree at my feet. There in its base was the switch I had once seen De Kalb press, a thousand years ago.
After three tries I reached it with my toe. Topaz was a furiously writhing burden in my arms, almost overbalancing us both. But the jeweled branches lighted, began slowly to move.
“Paynter!” I barked. “Look at that—look at it!”
He was not yet fully out of his hypnosis. He turned, startled, saw the branches that were spinning now with a dizzying blur of brightness. He grimaced and looked away.
Recklessly I let go of Topaz with one arm to point at the whirling tree.
“Look!” I yelled insistently. “Paynter, look.”
My own eyes were averted but I could see his head turn as he glanced at the hypnotic spinning. His head turned away again, slightly—but not his eyes. They stayed fixed, focused on lie tree.
Slowly, slowly his head swung back, till he stood facing the circling lights. Intelligence faded from his stare. His hand dropped from his belt.
Simultaneously I realized that Topaz was no longer fighting me. She too was watching the tree.
Hypnotized—both of them.
Paynter said in a dazed voice, “Cortland—Cortland, is that you? De Kalb? What’s happening?”
“Murray?” I said, softly, tentatively. I knew it was probably a trick and yet—under the hypnosis of the tree the submerged mind of Murray might be wakening.
Belem let out a long, shuddering sigh. His body slumped. And the amber force-field about us seemed to run down like water and vanished. Across the suddenly cleared space the soldiers stared at us, caught for a second by surprise. Their eyes sought Paynter’s.
But they met Murray’s eyes. “Wait!” he barked at them sharply. “Halt!”
Confused, they fell back a little. They would obey him—for a moment. So long as they thought he was Paynter.
Was he Paynter?
He turned a bewildered gaze to me, murmuring thickly, “Cortland, what’s happened? I’ve been dreaming, haven’t I? Dreaming I was a man named Paynter?”
There was a restless surge among the soldiers. They were muttering to their officers, uncertain, ready to be swayed one way or the other. Paynter—Murray—turned back to them.
“Halt!” he shouted again. “Wait for your orders!”
It worked—for awhile. But they would not wait long. Commands could not stop them from thinking. And I knew that if Murray told them to drop their weapons their indecision would crystallize into disobedience.
But the solution was very simple after all.
A gray light flickered around us, vanished, steadied again. A thin humming began. The light seemed to gather upon every dust-mote in the air, thickening in veil beyond veil. The soldiers faded into misty ghosts ...
Belem lifted his head wearily. “We’re all here now,” he said. “Cortland, Murray—”
“—Dr. Letta Essen—”
Only then did I turn my head. Kneeling beside the original force-field device was Topaz, her fingers flickering over its controls.
Not Topaz, I thought. Not now. The face was hers, and the body, but when she glanced up and smiled it was Letta Essen’s keen gray eyes that met mine. Hypnosis had released her, as it had released Murray, from the prison of the alien bodies, the alien minds.
“Now I will join you,” Belem said, and turned to face the spinning tree.
There was silence under the dome of gray light.
When the Mechandroid turned he was still a man-machine but it was De Kalb who looked at us out of the metal eyes. He smiled. “Goodbye to Belem,” he said. “We’re here again, all of us.”
“But why did it happen—why?” Letta Essen spoke with the voice of Topaz but it was unmistakably her own mind framing the thought and the words.
“I think I can guess,” De Kalb said, through Belem’s lips. “It was no accident that stranded us temporarily in this era. We set out to fight a battle, the four of us against the nekron. Well, I think we have fought that battle. I think what happened was a testing-field in which each of us was tried and found—useful. Now we go on to the final battle.”
“And the nekronic killer with us,” I said.
“The killer too. That is part of the pattern, I think.”
“But wait a minute,” Murray said. “What’s become of this fellow Paynter? Where’s Belem? Where’s Topaz? And Cortland, were you always yourself?”
“The others are recessive in our minds, I think,” De Kalb said. “Just as once we were recessive in theirs. Cortland’s alter ego has always been recessive. Only he hasn’t changed—except in that he changed bodies, as we all did. Why that had to happen I don’t know—yet. Remember, Cortland has always been our catalyst. When he enters the picture things happen!”
“There’s one thing that isn’t going to happen,” I said. “We can’t get our bodies back, can we? These we borrowed. Or stole, if you want the accurate truth. The real owners are sleeping, maybe. But will we ever dare sleep? Will we ever be sure well waken as ourselves? Each of us is a double mind in a single body now. If we come out alive from the world of the Face, what’s going to happen then?”
“We’ll know that,” De Kalb said firmly, “when we wake again. We will sleep, Cortland. And whichever ego wakes at the end of the world will be the ego that was predestined to wake.”
He hesitated briefly. “Now we must go,” he said. “Look at the tree, Cortland. Murray, Letta—watch the tree. We will know the real truth—but later, much later—when we waken at the end of the world. When we look into the Face of Ea.”
23. The Face
Time turned on and on upon its axis where we slept.
Time flowed like a river, wheeled like a sphere, moved like a galaxy through its own unimaginable dimensions toward its own inexorable ends. Motionless at the heart of motion, we slept on.
I think I dreamed.
Perhaps it was a dream in which the waters of time parted above us like a Red Sea parting and, through the walls of water, inquiring faces looked down into mine, mouthed words in unknown languages that came to me faintly from far away. If it was a dream, the dream wore thin for an interval and I could almost hear them, almost feel their hands on me, tugging me awake.
And then, among them, a deep serene powerful command seemed to break and through the parted waters of sleep and time I looked up dimly into the face I had last seen beneath the cocoon of fight, still in its natal slumber. But this time I saw the calm quicksilver eyes and heard the calm voice running deep with power.
The eyes met mine. Their command was irresistible, and the command was—
Sleep.
The waters closed over me again …
As dreams repeat themselves in interrupted slumber, it seemed to me that this dream returned. The quiet of turning time wore thin and I looked up again into inquisitive faces seen from far away, felt inquisitive hands plucking me awake. But these were strange faces, so strange I was startled a little out of my oblivion and all but sat up in my shock as I saw them.