The operation of placing a trail of food between the enclosure and the
lock chamber, during the few minutes before mealtimes when it would have
its maximum effect, was a dangerous one but well worth the risks. The end
result was a lock chamber crowded with Twos fighting over a small food
cache so fiercely that they were usually oblivious of the fact that they
had suddenly been sealed in and that Hollis or McCullough were outside
the hull, opening the compartment to space.
They bagged as many as six Twos at a time that way.
On the ninth day McCullough decided that their original purpose of
drastically reducing the numbers of Twos roaming the Ship had been
accomplished and they could all return to more constructive forms
activity.
The decision on what to do about Walters was not so easily taken,
but McCullough could not put off making it any longer.
Punishment or retribution of any kind was ruled out, of course, since
that would involve varying degrees of criticism or rejection by his
friends. Alone, as he had been on the P-ship for weeks on end, the
pilot was particularly sensitive to this form of punishment, and he
had already soaked up more than enough of it from General Brady. Dirty
fighting and psychological warfare, so far as McCullough was concerned,
were becoming synonymous.
"I should have come to see you sooner," he told Walters as he opened
his visor after passing through the inner seal. He waved vaguely toward
the port and the frigid, decompressed Twos drifting outside and added,
"We were very busy."
"Yes," said the pilot, smiling. "I took some very good pictures of the
spring-cleaning . . ."
Walters' voice was quiet and pleasant, his features relaxed and his
hands and fingers yellow and bloodless, so tightly was he gripping the
sides of his couch.
Awkwardly, McCullough said, "I won't say that we don't blame you, not again.
Telling the truth too often can make it sound like a lie. And, well,
don't worry if it happens to you again. You are aware of what they are
trying to do to you so it won't be so easy for them next time, and they
might even change their approach."
"They have," said Walters. "Just before you arrived, that girl told me
they would not divert the other supply rockets no matter what fool stunt
we pulled or how much trouble we caused them. Obviously this news is
supposed to make us all break down and weep out of sheer gratitude that
mamma still loves us even when we've been naughty.
"I wish I hadn't read so many psychology books," he ended bitterly.
"It has made me cynical."
McCullough laughed. He said, "Cynicism is a very good defense. Throw in
a little sympathy for the enemy -- Brady, that is, not the Twos --
while a good, hefty shot of megalomania might help as well. You start by
doubting everything they tell you and questioning all their motives, at
the same time trying to appreciate the general's position, but not to the
extent that you fail to realize the true importance of the part we have to
play in all this. So you doubt Brady, you feel sorry for him and, in your
quiet, respectful fashion, you also feel superior to him. Get the idea?"
"Of late," said Walters doubtfully, "I have become much less quiet and
respectful."
"That is because you haven't been feeling superior enough," said McCullough
drily. He went on, "We are the experts in this particular situation. It is
ridiculous to expect us to obey people who know less about it than we do --
people who, if they were to regain complete control over us, are under so
much pressure from so many different directions that they are incapable
of giving proper orders anyway."
McCullough waited then, without appearing to wait, wondering if the pilot
would seize the bait or even if he was aware of it. He was and he did.
"You mentioned them regaining complete control over us," said Walters
quickly. "Other than the control, which is as you know far from complete,
imposed by service discipline and the habit of obedience, how can they
influence us?"
"This is rather awkward for me," said McCullough, preparing to slide
imperceptibly from questionable, rule-of-thumb psychology into outright
fiction, "because I didn't want to talk about this until I was surer
of my facts. But it seems to me that we may have been the subjects
of a form of conditioning which was designed to support and guide us
as well as furnishing Prometheus with a large measure of control. By
this I mean that it was subtle enough not to interfere with mentation
and at the same time leave us unaware that we were being helped and
controlled. How exactly this conditioning was implanted I don't know,
although I suspect that the hours we spent listening to canned lectures
in the simulator may have had something to do with it. But the method
used to reinforce the conditioning and at the same time control us is,
I'm fairly sure, the radio transmissions from the Cape.
"The mechanics of the process," McCullough went on seriously, "might
involve the use of certain key words and phrases but would, I'm pretty
sure, be more likely to depend on the tonal quality of voice used --
they could heterodyne their AF with sub- or ultrasonics to obtain a kind
of subliminal effect on the audio frequency. But for various reasons,
the conditioning broke down or was considerably weakened and they lost
a large measure of their control over us."
Natural radio interference with the signal could have been one factor,
McCullough went on to explain, and the constant relaying of transmissions
through the suit radios had probably attenuated the effect even more. It
was not surprising, therefore, that the men who had Control's orders
relayed to them from the P-ship had been able to exercise discretion
in the matter of obeying orders, while Walters, who was in direct radio
contact, had never had a chance of resisting them.
"That makes me feel much better," said the pilot when McCullough had
finished talking. "It even gives me an excuse for future misdemeanors,
if any. But surely Brady's psychological weapon is two-edged. It caused to
be made public information which he would have preferred to remain secret;
namely, the extermination -- massacre, he calls it -- of the Twos. Rather
than risk the chance of the listening world hearing something even more
unpleasant, he might leave me alone."
"I doubt it," said McCullough.
"But if he goes on," said Walters angrily, "it means he is pushing a
psychological abort button! He will be softening us up until, instead of
being able to think and carry out complex technical activities, we'll
be just so many jellies unable to think or act at all, much less obey
orders. Is he trying to wreck the Project? Isn't it also possible that
he could push a button and ignite our return fuel supply? Was provision
made for this in case the e-t's turned out to be baddies and threatened
the security of the world?
"All of a sudden I don't trust Brady, and I dislike being treated like part
of the hardware."
He broke off as he became aware of McCullough's expression, then said
quickly, "I don't really believe any of that, but there is an easy way
to deal with the possibility. Next time we're in contact I'll tell the
listening world that if there is an unexplained explosion out here it
will have been caused by Brady." He laughed suddenly. "But your real danger
is me! With this information and all the spare time at my disposal
I might analyze and reproduce this conditioning effect.
My
word
would be law then, and I could wrap you all around my little finger!"
"As I said," McCullough smiled as he turned to go, "a
little
megalomania is a good thing . . ."
On the way back to the Ship, McCullough found himself questioning some
of his own motives. He had been telling lies to the pilot, suggesting
that Walters had not been really responsible for his apparent treachery,
by blaming everything on a form of conditioning which might not even
be workable; and not solely as an act of kindness. McCullough himself
needed support and reassurance. He wanted as many people on his side
as possible, which meant that he could not risk Walters going over to
Brady. If the pilot sided actively with Control instead of the men in
the Ship, McCullough could not bear to think of the consequences. In
the frighteningly simple world of emotional relationships and physical
survival, Walters' friendship could be assured only if he was to become
completely and utterly hostile to the general.
And so McCullough himself was guilty of pressing psychological push buttons
and treating a human being as part of the hardware. Worse, he was pressing
them without fully understanding what he was doing or what the end result
might be. Worst of all was the fact that what he was doing did not trouble
McCullough's conscience as much or as often as it should.
His conscience seemed to be developing thick and widespread calluses.
He wondered how long it would be before he became completely decivilized.
Progress within the Ship during the next few days was erratic. Berryman
came out in a livid, itching rash which lasted for one whole day
and caused McCullough to have horrible visions of everyone going down
with the e-t equivalent of bubonic plague carried by dead Twos, before
it faded completely. It was only then that Hollis, Drew and Berryman
admitted smugly to eating a few ounces of alien porridge every day for
the past week. McCullough warned them of the possibility of dangerous
long-term cumulative effects -- the fact that Berryman's allergy symptoms
had cleared up in so short a time did not necessarily mean that the
food was completely nontoxic. But then McCullough realized that he
was beginning to sound like General Brady and that the three men were
expecting compliments instead of criticism, so he added gravely that the
cumulative effect of the toxins would probably take the form of a long,
wasting, ultimately fatal disease indistinguishable from old age.
Spurred on by this act of moral cowardice they immediately announced
plans for domesticating the Threes . . .
They did it by first using the porridge to gain their trust, by punishment
to teach them not to wrap their furry bodies around a human being's head --
although there was no real danger here as they could be peeled off easily
with human fingers, and the punishment was very light -- and by petting,
particularly when it took the form of combing their fur with stiffened
fingers. Several of the Threes became attached, literally, to Berryman
and Drew, and Hollis and McCullough began picking out Threes and trying
to make friends with them.
Their fur was pleasant to touch and they seemed very friendly and
demonstrative -- just like dogs, in fact. McCullough suspected that,
like dogs, the scratching gave them pleasure because it helped dislodge
parasites and he began to wonder about the habits of alien fleas. Also
like dogs they were useful as well as friendly -- they could sense Twos
at a distance and this early warning system saved lives many times over.
Despite the three successful operations in the enclosure and the subsequent
strategy which had lured a large number of the beasts into lock chambers
and the vacuum of space, their movements within the Ship were still being
badly hampered by Twos.
Mean, vicious and very hungry Twos.
By following the supply ducting back from the food dispensers, they
had found the compartment -- whose doors, fortunately, had remained
Two-proof -- where the food was processed for distribution to the various
cages. Their first act had been to shut off the food supply -- which
had been accomplished with very little damage to processing equipment --
with the idea of forcing the remaining Twos to kill each other off for
food. But this had turned out to be a very slow business and, while they
occasionally came on an animal which had been killed and eaten by its own
species, there were indications that the surviving Twos -- their numbers
were estimated at not over twenty -- preferred human beings as food.
The investigation was proceeding, McCullough told himself, but an unbiased,
hypothetical observer would have said that the humans were being hunted
all over the Ship.
chapter nineteen
They investigated, or were forced to take cover near, the area of the
Power Room. This was the compartment in which all the heavy power cables
for the generators and the Ship lighting supplies had their origin, and
they spent two days in the area without being able to find a way in. So
far as they could see, the compartment was heavily shielded and sealed
tightly against all intruders, including members of the Ship's crew.
As the work of charting the vessel's interior continued, other blank areas
appeared, compartments which were completely sealed off against everyone
and everything.
"Like it says in my car instruction booklet," said Hollis, trying
manfully to hide his disappointment, "repair or maintenance should be
handled only by a qualified mechanic or service station . . ."
One of the compartments which they entered easily contained large quantities
of food and liquids other than water, in what was obviously weightless
packaging. This time it was the Threes rather than the men who acted,
quite happily, as guinea pigs -- McCullough wanted to dispel a lingering
doubt which was troubling him that the containers might hold paint instead
of soup. But it was the labeling system used to identify the containers
which caused most of the discussion.