*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 73156 ***





                            OUT OF NOWHERE

                           By E. A. GROSSER

     (_Author of "The Radiant Avenger", "The Psychomorph", etc._)

           Valnar, time traveler from nowhere in particular,
          had raised havoc in plenty the last time he stopped
           in this continuum; he'd been responsible for the
            rise of Dodson, the mental dictator who was now
           menacing the entire planet. So Barlow and Laurine
        decided that the tourist had better undo it this trip!

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
          Future combined with Science Fiction October 1941.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Dictators are the most naive persons. About all they know are the facts
of life. Therefore Great America's Dodson thoroughly approved of a man
such as Joel Barlow and a girl such as Laurine Coret walking in the
park at twilight. Quite evidently Director Dodson reasoned: Dusk is
mysterious.... Man is curious.... Q. E. D.--usually.

A civic guard saw them and saluted with a good-natured grin. Wisely,
they returned the salute. Then Laurine passed her arm under Barlow's
and sort of cuddled up to him. He straightened and looked at her with
surprise.

"Smile, darn you," she grated. "Make it look real--as though you
enjoyed it, even if you don't."

His lips stretched into a grimace that in the dusk, passed muster for
a smile. And the civic guard smiled fondly after them as they walked
along the park path.

"What does Central want me for?" Barlow asked when the guard was beyond
earshot.

"The organization is going to hibernate. You're to pass the word along.
'Stay away from headquarters.'"

"Why?"

"Dodson must have managed to get agents into our organization. The New
Orleans headquarters was raided during a meeting."

"Did they get them all?" he asked quickly.

She nodded. He said nothing, but his hands closed slowly. They both
knew the seriousness of the loss, but still her eyes clung to his face.
Director Dodson knew the facts of life.

Suddenly her gaze went over his shoulder and her eyes widened with
fright. She turned with a stifled scream and fled. Barlow stared after
her with puzzled eyes.

"--me she didn't like," said a rueful voice behind him. "I beg your
pardon. I guess it's--"

Barlow turned quickly, but saw nothing. Then, as though someone had
switched on a light, there was a violet haze in front of him. And in
the middle of the haze was the figure of a man. Then the man and the
queer haze disappeared as though the light had been turned off.

A moment later it had returned. "--leave you so abruptly," the figure
said, and vanished. A second later it reappeared and said, "I'm sorry I
had to--"

Barlow moved away, intending to follow Laurine.

"Don't go," said the queer newcomer. "I think I've settled down, and I
want to talk to you."

The haze flickered uncertainly. Barlow's last doubt was removed. He
must know how Laurine was faring. But before he could get started, the
violet haze and the talking image had returned.

"Hello," it greeted cheerfully. "I'm glad you waited. I've made it at
last. Inconvenient--that time-lash."

"Yes," Barlow agreed uncertainly. He stared at the newcomer. The fellow
appeared to be an ordinary human being. The violet haze had vanished
and in the poor light Barlow couldn't see him very clearly, but it
seemed that he was rather tall, strongly built, not too good-looking,
and dressed in loose, comfortably fitting clothes. At the moment the
newcomer was staring in the direction Laurine had fled.

"Too bad I frightened her," he said with a shake of his head. "She's a
cute little trick."

Barlow frowned at the familiarity. "Who are you?"

"Valnar one-oh-oh-three-oh-seven-one-oh-oh--"

"I didn't ask for your telephone number," snapped Barlow. "What's your
name?"

"That's it," said the newcomer. "You see, I'm from--well, from the
future. I was experimenting with time, and discovered a few of the
natural laws that I could control. I constructed this traveler"--He
tapped a plaque strapped to his chest. "--and since then I've just been
wandering around ... trying to get back home."

"Lost?" asked Barlow more friendly.

Valnar hesitated. "Well, not exactly. I'm always able to find out where
I am, but I can't find my own time. Right now, for instance, figuring
from the Birth of Christ as many of the people I've met do, I should be
in the year 1974. Is that right?"

"Nineteen seventy-three," Barlow corrected.

The man named Valnar seemed shocked. "Another error," he murmured. "If
I don't do better than that, I'm going to find myself out in space,
freezing to death."

"I thought you said you were time-traveling," Barlow questioned.

"Certainly," said Valnar. "But traveling in time requires considerable
knowledge of astronomy. Both the Earth and the Sun move in space. If
I were to travel twenty-four hours into the future, without moving in
space, I'd find myself out in the void. But luckily the earth seems to
exert an attraction which compensates for numerous errors, though it
upsets my calculations concerning the time."

"What time are you from?"

"1974."

"That's next year! That means there are two of you in the world
now--that is impossible!"

"No," Valnar disagreed impatiently. "I told you this wasn't my
time--maybe I should say, space-time continuum. Time is like a tree
with a lot of branches--too damn many of them. In my own time, we
calculate that dimension from the Year of the Subsidence. I slid down
my branch of that space-time continuum, and now I can't find it again.
My people are the descendants of an Atlantean colony established in
what you call Florida, but evidently that colony had few chances for
survival--perhaps only one. That would make it a single small branch
and difficult to find--which it is," he concluded feelingly.

"Then how do you explain your being able to speak English?" Barlow
asked, grinning. He was thinking that the stranger was an unconvincing
liar.

"This stop is merely incidental. I miscalculated time before last and
landed in 1941--met a nice fellow who didn't ask too many questions."
He looked severely at Barlow. "_He_ believed me right away, taught me
English, and told me I was just like someone out of a science-fiction
story. Poor fellow was quite worried about some sort of a European
menace, though. So I gave him the Mental Ray to protect his--"

"Why, you dirty--" Barlow started forward with swinging fists. He
landed one fairly solid blow, then his hands were held powerless in the
other's.

"What's the matter with you?" Valnar asked a bit angrily.

Barlow fought to free himself, and couldn't. Valnar was much stronger
than he appeared to be. Finally he ceased his struggling, watching
closely for a chance, but he didn't stop cursing the newcomer.

"Was that fellow's name Dodson?" he asked at last.

"Why yes," Valnar admitted with surprise. "Then my help was enough to
protect this continent. Good!"

"Yeah, 'Good!'" Barlow snarled. "Your 'poor' Dodson protected the
American continents, but when he saw that it was so easy, he decided
to be a Dictator--only he calls himself, Director." Suddenly Barlow
chuckled, "Now Europe is squealing about the 'American Menace.' Don't
you think you ought to go over and 'protect' them?"

       *       *       *       *       *

Valnar released Barlow and stepped back. "But he didn't seem like that
sort of a fellow. He was so--so idealistic!"

"Probably because he didn't have anything to be practical about,"
Barlow sneered. "Now he's got the Mental Ray you said you gave him,
and he controls two continents with absolute power--and is thinking of
expanding. The only ones in all the Americas who can even _think_ he's
wrong are a few like me--ones who for some reason, aren't affected by
the ray which orders your thoughts to an approved pattern."

"The dirty heel!" Valnar spat. "I'm going back and kill him. So long!"

"Wait! What good will that do? He's here now, so that proves you didn't
kill him. But you caused all this mess; help us free ourselves."

"I can kill him; and I will. I'll create a new branch of the tree--a
world where Dodson died right after protecting the Americas."

"But what about this branch!" Barlow shouted as Valnar's hand went to
the plaque on his chest. "According to your screwy theory this limb
will still be going strong."

Valnar hesitated. "You're right," he admitted, lowering his hand. "We
might as well create two new limbs, one right here."

Barlow waited, watching Valnar. Somehow he was impressed by the other.
He no longer considered him merely a liar; there _was_ something
strange about the newcomer. And the circumstances surrounding the
discovery of the Mental Ray had never been explained. Dodson was no
scientist, and yet he and no other knew the more complicated parts of
the powerful electrical broadcaster that matched the thought waves of
the people and heterodyned those he considered undesirable.

"I'll have to acquaint myself with the circumstances," said Valnar.

"Okay, what do you want to know?" Barlow offered.

Valnar looked at him slyly. "It would be much more pleasant to learn
from that girl you were with. I always try to make my work pleasant."

Barlow made a wry face. "_I'll_ help you," he repeated, and wondered
why he so instantly rejected Valnar's suggestion.

Valnar shrugged. "Oh, all right. If you insist. But she sure lit out of
here in a hurry. Where was she headed?"

"She knew I could run faster than she could, and wanted a headstart,"
Barlow grinned. "She's probably at headquarters now, getting a bunch to
help me."

"Let's go to headquarters," said Valnar.

Barlow looked at him sharply, frowning with suspicion. "You promised
to help," he reminded.

"Oh, you may be sure that I shall," Valnar assured airily. "Lead on,
MacBarlow!"

Barlow grunted and started toward the headquarters that he was never
supposed to approach. The organization believed in never establishing
a personal trail between the various headquarters, and Barlow was a
runner. But he considered that the circumstances warranted disobedience.

"Your education was evidently quite sketchy," he grumbled as he led the
way. "Dodson didn't give you your money's worth."

       *       *       *       *       *

Two blocks from headquarters, Barlow halted suddenly. He was staring at
two patrol wagons drawn up in front of the suspiciously unimpressive
building that the organization used.

"It's a raid!" he snapped to Valnar.

Two guards came out of the building with a young girl between them.
They helped her into the nearest car, even though she fought against it.

"They've got Laurine," Barlow cried, starting forward.

Valnar caught his arm and held him back. "Is that her name?" he asked
easily.

Barlow fought to free his arm from Valnar's grasp, but the newcomer was
much too strong.

"Come, don't be childish," Valnar reprimanded. "There are too many
of them. Don't worry about your friends. We'll free them as soon as
possible."

Barlow was undetermined.

"In the meantime, we'll go to see Dodson," Valnar continued.

That settled Barlow's mind. To get near the Director was something that
every member of the organization hoped to do. Besides, Laurine and
the others would be safe for a while. The "questioning" of the guards
always started on a gentle note.

"How will we get to him?" he asked.

"That's up to you," said Valnar. "You get some sort of a conveyance,
and I'll construct a small Mental Ray to blackout anyone who tries to
stop us."

Barlow took Valnar to the rooms he had engaged and managed to secure
the apparatus Valnar declared essential. Luckily it could be made from
altered radio parts, the sale of which wasn't restricted. But his own
part of the task was harder.

Dodson was one of the first to realize the power of transportation,
and held firm control of all its phases. Public conveyances wouldn't
serve their purpose because, while Barlow's passports were necessarily
in order even though forged, Valnar had none. And no forger was
available.

They must steal either an auto or a plane--preferably, a plane. But
there was no such thing as a private auto or plane, and the civic
conveyances were carefully controlled.

Finally Barlow had to admit defeat and return to his rooms. He went in
wearily and sat down. Valnar greeted him cheerfully.

"It's finished," he said, waving to the small assembly on the table.

Barlow peered at it. "I failed," he admitted. "Couldn't steal one
anywhere."

"Then we'll get one with this," said Valnar.

Barlow thought of his wearying hours of search and felt like slugging
the other. But he knew that Valnar would win any scrimmage, so he
regretfully discarded the idea.

"Then we might as well free Laurine and the others before we take off,"
he suggested.

Valnar's eyes glowed with interest. "Good idea!" he approved. "I was
thinking that we'd need help."

The city prison was a grim structure. It contained few people, but
those it did swallow were seldom heard of again. Barlow felt a
tightening of his muscles as they approached.

Valnar was carrying the ray projector. He walked along confidently,
with an unserious buoyancy like that of a person engaged in a game with
children. Barlow envied him.

He was well aware of what they were fighting. And the thought that
possibly the projector wouldn't work, made him feel hollow. The guards
at the entrance stepped forward to bar the way.

Valnar's fingers switched on the projector and he swept it over the two
guards. They dropped their rifles and slumped to the stone entranceway.
Barlow picked up their rifles, then stared at them. They were sleeping
peacefully.

Valnar strode into the building, applied the ray to another man, and
entered the warden's office. The warden leaped to his feet angrily.

"We want the prisoners brought in yesterday," Valnar informed.

"Shoot, Perkins!" cried the warden.

       *       *       *       *       *

Barlow wheeled, rifle ready. A secretary that they hadn't noticed at
the other end of the room was leveling a pistol. Barlow moved the rifle
swiftly, but Valnar was the swifter and the secretary lay back in his
chair and went to sleep.

"The prisoners, please," Valnar insisted.

"I--I can't," said the warden, sitting down weakly.

"You better," Barlow advised.

"They were taken to Washington this morning at the orders of the
Director."

Valnar switched on his projector again and the warden fell forward on
his desk, snoring. Barlow urged Valnar toward the elevator that would
take them to the roof.

"A police plane will do fine," he said. "And they are fast. We've got
to get to Washington in a hurry."

"Is that where Dodson is?" Valnar asked as they shot upward while the
elevator operator snored peacefully in a corner.

"Yes, and God only knows what he intends to do to Laurine and the
others."

The elevator halted at the roof and Barlow faced Valnar. "Can you
spread that beam to get everybody up here?" he asked. "Then they won't
follow, or radio ahead to have us intercepted."

"Sure thing," Valnar said, motioning for Barlow to open the door.

Barlow pulled the sliding door aside, and Valnar stepped outside with
the projector running. He swept the roof quickly and smiled with
satisfaction to see the uniformed men fall.

Barlow chose the newest of the planes ready on the roof and helped
Valnar inside the cabin. Then he climbed inside himself and found
Valnar staring at the controls with offended eyes. He turned to Barlow.

"Can you fly this thing?"

"I was in the Air Guards before they discovered that I was an
Unamenable," Barlow answered with a smile. He started the motor, waited
until the nearly silent hum of power had reached a constant pitch, then
sent the plane into the air.

"Why do you have so many instruments?" Valnar demanded. "Doesn't Dodson
know that the acme of science is simplicity--beautiful simplicity?
This plane has ten times as many instruments as my time-traveler. It's
foolish and confusing."

"I didn't make it," Barlow disclaimed. "But then you got to remember
that you've been making errors in your calculations. Maybe you need a
few more instruments."

Valnar said nothing. For several minutes he was silent, then when
he did speak, the subject was entirely different. "What did you
mean--'Unamenable'?"

"That's Dodson's name for those who aren't affected by the Mental Ray.
I guess you're one, or you wouldn't be helping me."

Valnar shook his head. "Never heard of it," he declared. "The ray
affects me all right, but I only gave Dodson a low-power version of
this," he signified the set he had constructed, "and I am able to
compensate for the effect."

       *       *       *       *       *

It was late evening when they sighted the lights of Washington. Barlow
sent the plane down over an arterial highway that stretched in the
night like a glowing worm. He hovered noiselessly above it until he was
sure that there were no cars in sight, then landed.

"Why don't we go on?" Valnar asked.

"Dodson has forbidden planes to fly over Washington, and there are
anti-aircraft batteries permanently on duty to enforce the order."

Valnar grumbled, but helped Barlow send the plane into a field near
the road, where it would not immediately be seen. They walked into the
little suburban town. It took only a short time to find an automobile,
but when they started away in it, the owner came running out of a
tavern, shrieking for the police. Valnar lifted the projector and
removed the man's objections and they sped on toward the White House.

The closer they came to the symbol of government, the more doubtful
Barlow became. It had all been too easy. Through years he had been
conditioned to a powerful, almost omnipotent government that struck
back savagely at the least resistance. And now he was nearing
the nervous center of that government in an automobile! Like any
government-approved and personally curious tourist. It almost made him
feel guilty.

The guards at the entrance of the drive halted them. Valnar lifted the
projector confidently and the men slumped to the pavement. Barlow got
out and dragged them aside and opened the gates, then sent the car up
the drive.

He halted at the entrance at Valnar's direction. Valnar climbed out of
the car with Olympian confidence as a pair of guards barred the way and
an officer stepped forward to question them.

"Your names, gentlemen?"

Barlow followed Valnar out of the car and watched Valnar thumb the
switch of the projector. The beam swept over the three soldiers. And
nothing happened. Valnar passed the beam over them again and still
nothing resulted. The two at the doorway still barred the way and the
officer smiled grimly.

"Your names are unnecessary," he said. "We have been waiting for you."
He waved to someone in the darkness.

Barlow turned and saw a full squad with leveled rifles. There was no
chance to get the two rifles he had brought with them. There was no
chance for any sort of a fight. They were trapped as completely as rats
in a wire cage.

Valnar seemed paralyzed. He didn't seem to realize that he had been
vulnerable. He made no resistance when the officer took the projector
from his hands. He stared at Barlow dazedly.

"The Director will see you," the officer said to Valnar, then turned to
look at Barlow. "You must be Barlow," he mused. "Put him with the rest.
The Organization will be liquidated tomorrow."

       *       *       *       *       *

Barlow was escorted to prison by two watchful soldiers. He was silent.
The abrupt failure had stunned him, and he knew that it was no use
to appeal to his guards. With them Dodson was not a ruler; he was a
messiah. The Mental Ray effected that in the common man. They might be
pretty decent fellows with wives and families and friends, but on that
one point they were adamant and inviolable.

He was quickly booked, then taken down the corridor between the cells.
He was thrust into the largest cell, the tank, and heard the door close
behind him with dreadful finality.

"Barlow!" came a surprised shout from one of the men in the crowded
cell.

Barlow focused his eyes on the face of the man who came forward, and
saw that it was the chief of Laurine's group. Then there was a flurry
of movement among the captives and a girl ran to his arms. Her face was
tear-streaked and her voice unsteady.

"Joel! I hoped that they wouldn't get you." She was crying again,
softly, face hidden against his chest.

He stroked her hair slowly. "Don't cry, Laurine," he said dully as he
looked around. There were many whom he didn't recognize, but among the
half hundred in the cell he recognized all those of Laurine's group
that he had met. He looked at the leader questioningly.

"A clean sweep," said the leader. "And not only of our group, but of
every one in the country. The prisons are full, overcrowded. We know
that nearly every man of our group was captured, and the others report
the same for their groups. The Organization is through."

"They must have got lists of members," Barlow mumbled.

"How could they?" the leader demanded. "Nothing like that exists. We
never kept any records. No! It was spies. They may even have got into
the organization. Laurine tells me of something strange that made her
return to headquarters to get help for you. What was it?"

Laurine had ceased her weeping, but she still clung to him. And Barlow
felt an inner happiness for her closeness. He held her in his arms
while he told the leader all that had happened to him. When he was
through he expected them to feel as he did, that the disaster had
struck them at the very moment when success seemed within their grasp.
But instead they were staring at him pityingly.

"What's the matter?" he asked hesitantly.

Laurine lifted her head from his chest and freed herself of his arms.
In her eyes too, there was pity. But there was also anger.

"You fool!" she cried. "That must have been the spy."

Barlow was stricken dumb for a minute. Then he shook his doubts from
his mind. "No! Valnar wanted to help us."

The leader pressed his shoulder with a smile, "No, son," he said,
shaking his head slowly. "He must have been a spy. That story
of time-traveling--" He left the sentence uncompleted and the
incompleteness only showed more starkly the absurdity of Valnar's tale.

Barlow felt the strength flow from his body. He felt old, tired. All
that they had fought for was gone. This was the world's last chance
at freedom. All the Unamenables were gathered together for death and
there would be no more differences of opinion. The only opinions in the
Americas would be those of Director Dodson. And soon his will would be
the only power in the world. In his mind's eye he seemed to see man
marching through time in a long hopeless column, never progressing,
always regressing, without the yeast of the fighting minority. He
turned away from those eyes of his companions, those eyes that told him
that he had had the chance to avenge this betrayal and had failed.

Laurine's hand went to his shoulder and rested there lightly to comfort
him. He covered her small hand with his own large one. Then she was
standing beside him. His arm was over her shoulders and she was smiling
up at him.

"Any one of us would have done the same, Joel," she said softly.

He smiled bitterly. "If so, we don't deserve to win. We're too damn
dumb!"

She said nothing, but remained quietly at his side. And he became aware
now that he was to lose his life, that it could have been much sweeter
if he hadn't been so blind. He cursed Valnar under his breath.

But Laurine heard him. "All you missed was a chance to avenge us," she
said. "The Organization was already doomed."

The anger and disgust left him and he waited with a quiet acceptance.
There seemed to be no hope. But he was determined to wait, and watch.

       *       *       *       *       *

The morning was a gray, dull-humored thing. There was no cheer in the
large cell. They waited silently.

It was still early when guards came into the prison. They marched down
the corridor in perfect discipline. Their weapons were well kept and
ready.

"Empty the tank, first," commanded the officer.

The door of the large cell opened, but there was no chance to fight
or escape. The prisoners filed out, formed ranks, then, surrounded by
guards, marched to the prison courtyard.

Barlow and Laurine had managed to stay together and as they left the
prison, her hand slipped into his. He thought it possible that she was
afraid. But when he looked at her, her shoulders were back and her eyes
bright. He pressed her hand.

"Look, Joel," she directed in a whisper when they halted in the
courtyard. She nodded her head toward a richly dressed group near the
outer entrance.

Joel Barlow looked and saw the well-publicized features of Director
Dodson in the middle of the group. And close by the Director was
Valnar.

But Valnar was heavily guarded. His clothes were torn and the plaque
which he had always worn, was gone. And he had lost his confident
bearing.

Their eyes met across the courtyard. Barlow saw Valnar smile, lift
his hand in greeting, but he showed no acknowledgement. Valnar's face
showed puzzlement.

The prisoners were lined against the wall. The guards withdrew to one
side and stood at attention. Director Dodson motioned negligently with
one hand, and Valnar and his guard crossed to the prisoners. Valnar was
placed with the prisoners and the guard withdrew.

Barlow stared at Valnar. Then he looked down to meet Laurine's eyes.

"They're going to kill him too," he said. "He wasn't a spy."

She didn't answer.

Barlow turned again to Valnar, called to him, "I see you're still with
us."

"To the end--maybe it won't be so bitter," Valnar grinned. "Get in
there and fight when the time comes."

Barlow had no chance to ask for an explanation. One of the officers
with Dodson stepped forward. He carried the projector Valnar had
constructed, but it was changed and was mounted on a tripod. The
officer trained it on the prisoners and pressed the switch.

Barlow felt a nervous shock that was almost electrical. He stiffened
spasmodically. He suddenly felt a hundred times stronger than he had
been, and felt a stinging contempt for the sheep around him. Rage
welled into his mind like a hot acid burning away all but the desire to
fight and kill.

As through a red haze he saw Valnar collapse limply to the ground. But
the other prisoners were standing rigidly, faces twisted with hate. He
leaped forward.

"Come on, you yellow-bellied cowards! What the hell does it matter if
they have all the guns? Maybe we can get a couple of them anyway!"

A hoarse roar of approval came from the throats of those behind him.
Laurine was at his side and they were running toward the group of
rulers. And behind came the others of the Organization, a blood-hungry,
hateful rabble. Unfearful of death and desiring only to tear the flesh
of the Director's men from their bodies.

Then a volley from the massed guards struck into them. Barlow felt
something strike him on the side. He staggered and almost fell as a
burning thread of agony lanced through his body. But the rage upheld
him, made him fight on.

Others passed him. Laurine ran ahead. He fell to the ground, then
fought his way to his hands and knees and crawled toward Dodson and his
subordinates. He saw Laurine leap at the men at the projector. They
went to the ground, fighting and kicking in utter disregard of all
rules.

The bullets of the guards were dropping men and women all around him.
Many struggled up to fight their way onward, but many stayed down.

Barlow reached the projector, grasped the tripod to lift himself up. He
saw dimly that Dodson and his officers were clamoring at the gate to
be freed from the bloody courtyard, but the portals had been closed to
retain the prisoners and now did as well for the Director.

Weakly, Barlow turned the projector around. He had to lean over it to
stay up, but he threw its beam over those at the gate. They went down
like dead men, slow and easily. Then the guards, then....

The rage was leaving him. Blackness was closing in around his mind. He
sagged over the projector, and dragged it to the ground with him.

       *       *       *       *       *

The blackness around his mind first parted to allow a tiny pricking of
pain to dart into his mind. Then, as though the neural dams had broken,
agony came. He twisted to escape it, and from far away a voice spoke
soothingly.

The agony faded slowly and he became conscious of light. He saw a
white-garbed figure near him. The face was pretty and feminine, and in
the woman's hand was a hypodermic syringe. His mind cleared slowly and
he saw more clearly. He was in a hospital.

He turned and saw Laurine and Valnar standing at the other side of the
bed. Laurine's hand was bandaged and her face scratched but otherwise
she seemed uninjured. She smiled at him.

"That was close," said Valnar and Barlow looked at him. The strange man
had entirely recovered his good humor and confidence. Barlow saw that
he was again wearing the plaque.

"Did we all go crazy?" Barlow asked.

"Just a bit more than usual," Valnar grinned. "I got to thinking about
what you told me about the Unamenables, and came to the conclusion that
the Mental Ray only controlled the average person. Those who varied
from the norm, either above or below, were affected differently. To
them it was an irritant. Haven't you ever thought it odd that all the
Unamenables fought Dodson?

"So when we were captured because the warden reported our visit, I
agreed to help Dodson. He had scientists, anyway. They sure blanked the
projector that night. Dodson wanted me to make the projector deadly.
I did, then Dodson was quite amused when I suggested that he try it
out on you Unamenables. But instead of killing you, it aroused you
to intense activity. The only thing that went wrong was that Dodson
crossed me, and the ray was too strong for me to compensate. I was laid
out cold."

"We've won, Joel," Laurine interrupted. "Dodson is dead. And we've
released all the members from the prisons, and destroyed the
transmitters."

"Yeah," agreed Valnar. "My job here is done, so I'll be getting along.
I want to kill Dodson again, this time personally."

Barlow forced Laurine to sit on the edge of the bed. Then held her hand
to make sure that she stayed there, and faced Valnar.

"Why don't you stay here?" he asked.

Valnar shook his head. "I got to see about getting home," he said,
starting to go. "So long."

"Wait!" called Barlow. "Where are you going this time?" he asked when
Valnar halted. "All the way back to the beginning?"

"I've already been there," said Valnar. "That was my first trip. I had
a car then, but the elemental chaos ruined it and I was barely able to
get away in time."

A sudden thought struck Barlow. He grinned at Valnar.

Valnar frowned and demanded, "Well?"

"Remember your simile of time to a growing tree with a lot of branches?"

Valnar nodded and waited.

"And remember how you said that you were creating new branches every
time you stopped?"

"Uh-huh," Valnar grunted impatiently.

"Well, I'll bet you haven't been sliding up and down the branches
of that tree at all. You've been leaping from one to another like a
monkey. And you weren't in your own past before you started, so you
can't be now. You aren't in your own time at all. When you leaped back
to elemental chaos, you planted this tree. You're climbing around the
wrong tree, fella."

Valnar started, then stared. "I guess I'll stay here for a while after
all," he muttered as he turned and went out.

Laurine was watching Barlow. "You were trying to sell him something
then," she accused.

"Sure," he admitted easily. "Think of the world-limb we can build if he
stays with us." He laughed and drew her face down to his.



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 73156 ***