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downstream, the river curved in a gray-metal sheen, over and down, veiled by the mists of its own
thunderous descent. He turned, scrambled back up, ran along the bank. There, ahead, a point of rock
jutted. Perhaps . . .
The raft bobbed, whirled, fifty feet away. Too far. He saw the pale, small face, the pleading eyes. Fear
welled in him, greasy and sickening.
Visions of death rose up, of his broken body bobbing below the falls, lying wax-white on a slab,
sleeping, powdered and false in a satin-lined box, corrupting in the close darkness under the indifferent
sod . . .
He took a trembling step back.
For an instant, a curious sensation of unreality swept over him. He remembered darkness, a sense of
utter claustrophobia and a white room, a face that leaned close . . .
He blinked and through the spray of the rapids, his eyes met those of the doomed child. Compassion
struck him like a club. He grunted, felt the clean white flame of anger at himself, of disgust at his fear. He
closed his eyes and leaped far out, struck the water and went under, came up gasping. His strokes took
him toward the raft. He felt a heavy blow as the current tossed him against a rock, choked as chopping
spray whipped in his face. The thought came that broken ribs didn't matter now, nor air for breathing.
Only to reach the raft before it reached the edge, that the small, frightened soul might not go down
alone into the great darkness . . .
His hands clawed the rough wood. He pulled himself up, caught the small body to him as the world
dropped away and the thunder rose deafeningly to meet him . . .
* * *
"Excellency! I need help!" The technician appealed to the grim-faced dictator. "I'm pouring enough
power through his brain to kill two ordinary men and he still fights back! For a second there, a moment
ago, I'd swear he opened his eyes and looked right through me! I can't take the responsibility "
"Then cut the power, you blundering idiot!"
"I don't dare, the backlash will kill him!"
"He . . . must . . . talk!" Koslo grated. "Hold him! Break him! Or I promise you a slow and terrible
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death!"
Trembling, the technician adjusted his controls. In the chair, Mallory sat tense, no longer fighting the
straps. He looked like a man lost in thought. Perspiration broke from his hairline, trickled down his face.
Again new currents stir in the captive, the Perceptors announced in alarm.The resources of this
mind are staggering !
MATCH IT! The Egon directed.
My/our power resources are already overextended! The Calculators interjected.
WITHDRAW ENERGIES FROM ALL PERIPHERAL FUNCTIONS! LOWER SHIELDING! THE
MOMENT OF THE ULTIMATE TEST IS UPON ME/US!
Swiftly the Ree mind complied.
The captive is held, the Calculator announced.But I/we must point out that this linkage now
presents a channel of vulnerability to assault.
THE RISK MUST BE TAKEN.
Even now the mind stirs against my/our control.
HOLD IT FAST!
Grimly, the Ree mind fought to retain its control of Mallory's brain.
In one instant, he was not. Then, abruptly, he existed.Mallory , he thought.That symbol represents
I/we . . .
The alien thought faded. He caught at it, held the symbol. Mallory. He remembered the shape of his
body, the feel of his skull enclosing his brain, the sensations of light, sound, heat but here there was no
sound, no light. Only the enclosing blackness, impenetrable, eternal, changeless . . .
But where was here?
He remembered the white room, the harsh voice of Koslo, the steel chair
And the mighty roar of the waters rushing up at him
And the reaching talons of a giant cat
And the searing agony of flames that licked around his body . . .
But there was no pain, now, no discomfort no sensation of any kind. Was this death, then? At once,
he rejected the idea as nonsense.
Cogito ergo sum. I am a prisoner where?
His senses stirred, questing against emptiness, sensationlessness. He strained outward and heard
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sound; voices, pleading, demanding. They grew louder, echoing in the vastness:
" . . . talk, damn you! Who are your chief accomplices? What support do you expect from the Armed
Forces? Which of the generals are with you? Armaments . . . ? Organization . . . ? Initial attack
points . . . ?"
Blinding static sleeted across the words, filled the universe, grew dim. For an instant, Mallory was aware
of straps cutting into the tensed muscles of his forearms, the pain of the band clamped around his head,
the ache of cramping muscles . . .
. . . was aware of floating, gravityless, in a sea of winking, flashing energies. Vertigo rose up; frantically
he fought for stability in a world of chaos. Through spinning darkness he reached, found a matrix of pure
direction, intangible, but, against the background of shifting energy flows, providing an orienting grid. He
seized on it, held . . .
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