Baby Is Three (37 page)

“So it was this substance that the Ffanx were after. You’ve heard the tales of what they wanted. Women. But they didn’t want them as women. They were after
extradiol
for the best reason on Earth or off it:

“It made them immortal!”

Bronze’s jaw dropped. Viki continued to gaze raptly at Garth. Daw’s heavy brows were drawn together in an expression that looked more like fear and worry than perplexity.

“Think about that for a minute. Think of what would happen if we of Earth found a species of animal which carried a substance which would do that for us … we’d hunt it ruthlessly and mercilessly.”

“Wait a minute,” Bronze said. “You mean that these Ffanx couldn’t die from a spear-wound?”

“Lord, no—they weren’t immortal in that sense. Just from old age which, in any species, is a progressive condition caused by dysfunction of various parts—particularly connective tissue. A complicated extract of human extradiol
beta
would restore the connective tissues of the Ffanx and keep them healthy for thirty of our years or more. Then another shot would keep ’em that way, and so on.”

“Just where is the Ffanx world?” asked Daw, and then colored violently as if embarrassed by the sound of his own voice.

“That’s a little difficult to explain,” said Garth carefully. “Look, suppose that door—” he pointed to an interior doorway—“opened into more than one room. You can almost imagine it; say you’d have to go through the door from an acute angle to get into the first room, go straight through to get into a second. You might call the second world Parallel X.

“The Gateway and the blue arch at Hackensack were doorways between worlds—between universes. These universes exist at the same time in the same space—but at different vibratory rates … I don’t expect you to understand it, no one really does. The theory’s an old one. No one gave it much consideration until the Ffanx got here.”

Bronze asked, “If it’s a doorway, like you say, why didn’t the Ffanx find the way in to the world where the women went?”

Garth smiled. “Remember the doorway there? Suppose you were quite familiar with the way that door opened to one of two rooms. Then supposing I came along and pointed out that instead of going straight in or turning left, you could go
up
and find yourself in still a third room. It’s like that. The Ffanx just never thought of going into their inter-dimensional arch in the particular direction that would wind them up in the Gateway world.

“There was always the possibility that the Ffanx
might
think of it, though, and you can bet that the women were warned and were ready to fight. But to get back to the story—I have to tell it all to you so you can understand what we’re going to do next; and I will have you understand it, because I don’t want help from people who just take orders, I want help from people who think.

“All right, let’s go on. I’m trying to give you an idea of what my father was—a man who worked and worried and made mistakes and was happy and frightened and brave and all the other things you are.

“He was a scientist, a specialist in molecular structure. In the early days of the invasion he got hold of a couple of Ffanx. You’ll remember that they weren’t attacking then. My Dad was the only man who was ever able to communicate with them, and he did it without their realizing what he was doing. A specialist in condensed matter can produce a lot of weird effects. One of the things he found out was that thought itself is a vibration very similar to the brainwaves of a Ffanx-type mind; that is, the currents that produced thought in their brains could be changed directly into waves his instruments could detect and translate. He got no details, but he did get some broad concepts. One of them was that the blue arch was the only exit that they had ever made from their world; they had never traveled to other planets in their universe. Another was the nature of their quest on Earth. When he found that out, he killed his specimens, but by then it was too late.

“He took those little bodies apart literally atom by atom. And he found out how to destroy them. It was simple in itself, but hard to get to, an isotope of nitrogen which, if released in their world,
would set up a chain reaction in their atmosphere. Due to the differences between the molecules of the two universes—they have a table of elements just like ours, but denser—their atmospheric hydrogen could be commuted to free hydrogen and arsenic tri-hydride, with a by-product of nitrogen ions that would kick off the reaction again and again … I see I’m talking gobbledegook. Sorry.

“Suffice it to say that my father knew what would destroy the Ffanx, but he had to make it himself. By that time the Ffanx had destroyed communications and the world was in chaos. It took time, as he knew it would. So he built the Gateway.

“He got the idea from the Ffanx’ own blue arch, which he had seen from a distance. He took careful readings on that strange blue light and guessed what it was. And in trying to build another like it—I think he planned to invade them where they didn’t expect it—he stumbled on the Gateway.

“It gave a weird red-orange light instead of a blue one, and the atmosphere on the other side was breathable, which the Ffanx world’s was not—they had to wear helmets and carry an air-supply while they were on Earth. He went through and looked the place over. There was timber and water and, as far as he could find out, no civilization or dangerous animals—just insects and some little rabbit-like creatures so tame they could be caught by hand. And he got the idea of using it as a sanctuary for the world’s women while he worked on the weapon that would destroy the Ffanx.

“You know the rest of that story—how the women came, all he could send word to—and then how he had to build defenses against the panic-struck, woman-hungry mobs that stormed this place.

“I was just a boy of eight when Dad finished the weapon. It was an innocent-looking eight-inch capsule filled with compressed gas. He planned to go up to Hackensack, traveling at night and hiding in the daytime, and set up a projector to peg it into the blue arch.

“The day after he showed it to me the Ffanx came … I’m convinced they didn’t know how near they were to the thing that would wipe them out. I’ll never know why they came just then … maybe there was a party of women on the way up the canyon. Anyway, a flight of their little ships appeared, and they let go one of their
force-beams on the lab-building—I guess because it was the nearest to the canyon-trail—and stove the roof in. Dad was crushed and the building burned.”

Garth took a deep breath. His eyes burned. “I spoke to him while he died. Then I left, with the capsule.”

“So it was you who put the poison through the blue arch,” said Bronze. “I’d always heard it was Gesell.”

“It was Gesell,” said Viki devoutly.

“I did, yes. Anyway, when that capsule burst in their world, they had a fine arseniated atmosphere. The hydrogen they breathed was arsenic tri-hydride within minutes after it got to their bloodstreams. I don’t know how long it took to kill off every last one of them on their planet, but it couldn’t have been long. And it got all the Ffanx here, too. They all had to go back to renew their air supplies. I don’t think we’ll ever hear of a living Ffanx again.”

“And where have you been all these years?”

“Growing up. Studying. Dad’s orders. He was the most fore-sighted man who ever lived. He couldn’t be sure of just what would happen in the near future, but he knew what the possibilities were, and acted on all of them. One of the things he did was to prepare a hypnopede—it’s a gadget that teaches you while you sleep—no bigger than your two fists. It was designed for me, in case anything happened, and it covered the basic principles of the Gateway, and a long list of reference books. I lived with that thing, month after month, and when I was old enough to move around safely under my own power I began to travel. I went to city after city and pawed through the ruins of their libraries and boned up on all of it—atomic theory, strength of materials, higher math, electronics—until I could begin to get experimental results.”

He looked around the table. “Are you people ready to give me a hand with the Gateway?”

“We took a vow—” said Viki. Garth interrupted her. “Let’s have none of that!”

Viki continued with perfect composure. “We took a vow to serve Gesell through life and past death, and I see no reason to change it. Do you, Daw?”

“I agree.” Daw’s face was strained. Garth thought for a second that Daw was going to argue the point. But perhaps he was wrong …

“Good,” said Garth. “Now—when the Ffanx destroyed the laboratory, they smashed the Gateway generators, as you know. I think I can restore them. With your help I know I can.”

“Hey wait,” said Bronze. “What about that prediction that the women would open it from the other side?”

“They’re supposed to have the facilities,” said Garth. “There’s just one piece of evidence we have that proves we’ve got to do it—they haven’t opened the Gateway.”

“Why not, d’you suppose?”

Garth shrugged. “Afraid to, maybe. Maybe something’s happened to them. Who knows? Let’s find out.”

Viki spoke up, timidly. “Garth Gesell—it’s been years since they went through. Will they be … I mean, do you suppose there are …” She floundered to a halt.

“Even women in their late thirties and forties can do some good to the world now,” Garth answered. “And don’t forget—many of them were with child. There’ll be new blood for Earth. However, one of the most important considerations is the women themselves. Among them were some of the best brains on Earth. Architects and doctors, and even a machine-tool designer. But the biggest treasure of all is Glory Gehman. She was my Dad’s friendly enemy—almost as good as he was in his specialty, and a lot better in several more. If she’s still alive, she’ll do more to get the world back on its feet than any thousand people alive today. You’ll see … you’ll see. Come on, let’s get to work!”

The days that followed were a haze of activity. Garth traced the old power-supply, and to his delight found it in prime condition. It had been used for little but the Guardians’ flame, all other equipment having been pretty well smashed or gone into disuse. The super-batteries which fed it were neo-tourmaline, a complex crystal that had the power of storing enormous quantities in its facets. Garth’s first task was to restore the great sundishes which charged the crystals. His father had designed them to replace the broadcast
power that he had used before he developed the condensed-matter crystal.

The Guardians—Garth had abandoned that term, but Bronze still insisted on using it—worked like beavers—Viki worshipfully and silently, Daw in a feverish way which puzzled Garth and angered Bronze. Bronze himself had to be watched to keep him from bossing the others. Garth kept him under control by doubting aloud whether he could do this or that, or by wondering if he was strong enough to move this over to there. “You think I can’t,” Bronze would mutter, and attack the task as if it were a deadly enemy.

Twice Garth called them all into the new laboratory and announced that the Gateway was ready. The first time nothing happened when he threw the switch, and it took him eight days to trace out the circuits and to test the vibratory controls. The second time a sheet of cool orange flame leaped into being, quivered and flickered for a moment, and then collapsed.

At each of these occasions Bronze berated Garth for letting the Guardians see it. “Here you got them thinking you’re a superman,” he said disgustedly, “and then you let them watch you pull a blooper.”

Garth was alone in the makeshift laboratory when he succeeded. He had bent to replace a crystal which was a few thousandths of a cycle out of phase, and he turned back to the Gateway apparatus—and there it was.

Quietly, noiselessly, it hung there, so beautiful it made him gasp, so welcome he could hardly believe his eyes. It was red-orange at the bottom, shading to gold at the top.

He spun to the switch. It was still open. Then he realized that his synchronization of the quartz frequency-crystals and the tourmaline power-crystals was so perfect that the Gateway had come of its own accord. He had known that the phenomenon was self-sustaining, he hadn’t known that it was self-starting.

He closed the switch as a safety-measure, and stood looking at the Gateway. “Got it,” he muttered. And he could all but feel his father’s presence with him, dark eyes glowing, his hand ready with the reward the boy used to prize so highly—the warm clasp of a shoulder.

Garth glanced at the door, thinking of Bronze and the others. Then he shrugged. “Let ’em sleep. They’ll need it.”

He stepped through the Gateway.

In her small cell Viki slept lightly. She was dreaming about Gesell, as she often did. Her early training with old Soames had been partly hypnopedic, and like most sleep-training, it tended to be restimulated by sleep itself. Part of it pictorialized itself as a dream of the main foyer in Gesell Hall, where the great portrait of Gesell hung. She seemed to be watching the picture, which refused to be a picture of the elder Gesell, but of Garth. And as she watched, the long, white-browed face began to turn pale. The face was composed, but the eyes conveyed a worriment that grew into terror and then into agony. As she stared at it, frozen, the dream picture suddenly ripped down the middle with a sound she was never to forget as long as she lived.

She bounded out of bed and stood gasping in the middle of the floor. Her sense of presence returned to her. She glanced around her and then bolted for the door.

In a silent panic she raced for the laboratory, threw the door open.

Between the tall grid-electrodes over which Garth had slaved for so many weeks there was a sheet of flame. Viki stared it, awed, and then realized what was so very strange about it; it radiated no heat. She approached it cautiously.

On the floor by the lower frame of the apparatus lay a human hand.

She knew that hand. Heaven knows she had spent enough mealtimes watching its deft movement from under her lowered lashes. She had seen it probing the complexities of the apparatus often enough, and had marveled at its skilled strength.