Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE STORM | 7 pushed it forward. Put its more mechanical and precise qualities, its Dellian strength, between his other self and whatever the human beings might be doing against him. Somewhere in the mist of darkness and blazing stars, a woman’s clear and resonant voice said: “Well, Lieutenant Neslor, did the surprise yield any psychological fruits?” ‘ The reply came from a second, an older- sounding woman’s voice: “After three seconds, noble lady, his re- sistance leaped to I. Q. 900. Which means they’ve sent us a Dellian. Your excellency, I thought you specifically asked that their representative be not a Dellian.” Maltby said swiftly into the night around him: “You’re quite mistaken. I am not a Dellian. And I assure you that J] will lower my resistance to zero if you desire. I re- acted instinctively to surprise, naturally enough.” There was a click. The tlusion of space and stars snapped out of existence. Maltby saw what he had begun to suspect, that he was, had been all the time, in the meteor- ology room, Nearby stood the old man, a thin smile on his lined face. On a raised dais, partly hidden behind a long instrument board, sat a handsome young woman. It was the old man who spoke. He said in a stately voice: “You are in the presence of Grand Cap- tain, the Right Honorable Gloria Cecily, the Lady Laurr of Noble Laurr. Conduct your- self accordingly.” Maltby bowed but he said nothing. The grand captain frowned at him, impressed by his appearance. Tall, magnificent-looking body—strong, supremely intelligent face. In a single flash she noted all the character- istics common to the first-class human being and robot. These people might be more dangerous than she had thought. She said with un- natural sharpness for her: “As you know, we have to question you. We would prefer that you do not take offense. You have told us that Cassidor VII, the chief planet of the Fifty Suns, is twenty- five hundred light years from here. Nor- mally, we would spend more than sixty years feeling our way across such an im- mense gap of uncharted, star-filled space. “ But you have given us a choice of orbits. “We must make sure those orbits are honest, offered without guile or harmful purpose. To that end we have to ask you to open your mind and answer our questions under the strictest psychological surveil- lance.” “I have orders,’ said Maltby, “to co- Operate with you in every way.” He had wondered how he would feel, now that the hour of decision was upon him. But there was nothing unnormal. His body was a little stiffer, but his minds— He withdrew his self into the background and left his Dellian mind to confront all the questions that came. His Dellian mind that he had deliberately kept apart from his thoughts. That curious mind, which had no will of its own, but which, by remote con- trol, reacted with the full power of an I. Q. of 191. | Sometimes, he marvelled himself at that second mind of his. It had no creative ability, but its memory was machinelike, and its resistance to outside pressure was, as the woman psychologist had so swiftly analyzed, Over nine hundred. %o be exact, the equivalent of I. Q. 917. “What is your name?” That was the way it began: His name, distinction— He answered _ everything quietly, positively, without hesitation. When he had finished, when he had sworn to the truth of every word about the ‘storms, there was a long moment of dead silence. And then a middle-aged woman stepped out of the nearby wall. She came over and motioned him into a chair. When he was seated she tilted his head and began to examine it. She did it gently; her fingers were caressing as a lover’s. But when sie looked up she said sharply: . “You’re not a Dellian or a non-Dellian. And the molecular structure of your brain and body is the most curious I’ve ever seen. All the molecules are twins. I saw a similar arrangement once in an artificial electronic structure where an attempt was being made to balance an unstable electronic structure. The parallel isn’t exact, but—mm-m-m, I must try to remember what the end result was of that experiment.” She broke off: “What is your explana- tion? What are you?” Maltby sighed. He had determined to tell only the one main lie. Not that it mattered so far as his double brain was concerned. But untruths effected slight variations in blood pressure, created neural spasms and disturbed muscular integration. He couldn’t take the risk of even one more than was absolutely necessary. Ccomiclbooks.c©