Tom Swift and the Visitor From Planet X (19 page)

"Stone!"
muttered Tom. "That was one of Oldmother’s words. This is what it meant! How I wish I could spend time studying this thing. It reminds me of the stone gravity-cube we found up on Little Luna—don’t you think so, flyboy? Same Planet X technology."

"Can you disable it yourself, Tom?" Bud asked anxiously. "Or do we try to contact Anti-X?"

Keen eyes scanning the chamber, the young inventor frowned. "Offhand, I don’t see any obvious control technology—not even a power cable." He gazed again at the curving walls of the chamber. There were blank-faced metal cabinets and tanklike objects on all sides! Which of them was the energy-brain’s "coffin?"

Exman seemed to be hanging back. "Now that I am closer, I know more of Anti-X and his thoughts, and he knows more of mine," declared Exman abruptly. "I do regret to announce, but am compelled to tell you, that he is preparing to begin supplying the device with power."

Tom’s eyes grew wide. "Then he’s running it on his own, even with the Brungarians gone?"

"He is following instructions he was given. He knows no reason to do otherwise. In a matter of minutes he will release the energy pulse that will produce an earthquake in Shopton, focused on Swift Enterprises, Tom. I feel displeasure at this resultant. Perhaps it is what you call
anxiety."

"I feel like kickin’ the thing to kingdom come!" Bud cried in a fury.

"Can you contact Anti-X and countermand his instructions?" Tom breathlessly asked the space brain.

"Not yet, Tom. I do not know how to convey such a specific concept to him. He has not become accustomed to human concept-language, as I have. Nor do I know his precise location in the room."

"Then we can’t wait any longer," Tom grated in determination. "All we have time to do is destroy the quake-maker by brute force."

Bud flinched slightly as Tom stepped forward, ready to hurl one of Mirov’s grenades at the base of the huge machine frame. "The Colonel set his device to a fifteen second delay after it strikes something. Start edging back toward the tunnel," Tom commanded. "When I yell the word—full speed!"

The young inventor reared back, grenade in hand. Suddenly he gasped and staggered back, crying out in fear:

"Bud! I can’t see!
He’s blinded me!"

"GENIUS BOY! TOM!"
Bud exclaimed in fear as his chum helplessly stumbled away from the quake-maker. He still held the explosion device in his right hand, and was rubbing his left hand across his eyes.

Flailing, Tom thrust the explosive into Bud’s hands. "I’ll be okay—just throw it, footballer! Aim for the base of the support rails!"

But as the athletic young pilot began to assume the stance of an expert hurler, he also shouted out in stunned surprise! "No!
—he’s got me too!"

"Turn around, away from the machine," Tom commanded. Bud complied. "Good night, I can see again! What’s he doing to us?"

"You are being selectively blinded as a protective measure, to prevent your throwing the destructive module," uttered Exman in his calm, mechanized tones.

"The same thing that happened to those FBI men in New Jersey," Tom declared. "Anti-X must be able to sense our intentions just as you do, Exman. He’s defending himself, maybe by some sort of automatic reflex action—the way our eyelids clamp shut involuntarily when something flies toward them. He must think of the machine as an extension of himself—his arms!"

"Tom, I’m sorry to displease you, but your analysis of the situation is not correct," Exman stated.

"Why?"

"Because you believe Anti-X is producing the blinding phenomenon," was the response. "This is untrue. He is not. I am."

"You!"
shouted Bud. "But you’re our pal, Exman!"

"Yes, I am."

"Then why are you preventing our actions?" demanded Tom furiously.

"Because," said Exman, "your attempted actions are immoral."

"What!"

"I can not permit you to do anything that thoughtlessly endangers Anti-X.
He is my fellow being—my brother!"

Tom and Bud looked at one another in anguished frustration. Now it was all too clear!—somehow, miraculously, the ever-more-human visitor from Planet X had developed a
conscience!

Exman rotated to face Bud. "Bud, my friend, what is
‘Open the pod bay door, Hal’?
What is its meaning?"

"Never mind
that,"
Tom remonstrated. He attempted to speak steadily despite the fear within him. "Exman, please listen to me—"

"Arguing will only generate further displeasure, Tom," the energy-brain interrupted. "I have read books. I have watched television. I have sensed the form of your minds, you who are good, not evil. I know the word
conscience,
and I know that I now possess it. By your own expressed words you have verified that you think of Anti-X as a mere adjunct to a danger that you are determined to destroy at all costs. Have you bothered to consult your own consciences? It tells me it would be wrong—
evil—
to act against its urging, or to allow others to so behave. I will permit only what is good. I am Exman!"

"B-But Exman—buddy—" Bud stammered. "Morality is great, but, you know, there’s ‘right’ and there’s
‘right’!"

"I fail to grasp the distinction you are making."

"I’m just saying—I mean,
man!
It
can’t
be
moral
to destroy a city and maybe kill a lot of people just because you don’t want to be a bad brother!"

Tom and Bud both thought Exman sounded almost condescending in his response. "I sense your feelings, Bud. You believe what you say is correct. But my conscience tells me that it is wrong to commit an unnecessary moral offense against one being on the basis of a mere numerical calculation. Is one person of less value than another? If the inherent moral worth of a soul is
infinite,
as I learned from television during the flight, then we must also accept the mathematical truth that infinite quantities do not exist in ratio to one another, but are always equals. Infinity-squared is no larger than infinity. And thus
one
being is equal in significance to
any number
of others."

Well aware that he had only minutes, Tom began to babble out as cogent a philosophical response as his agile mind could come up with. Bud hoped the space visitor’s attention was focused on his chum, because he had evolved a plan. He pulled from his pocket a small, flat toiletries kit and popped it open. The inner side of the lid was a mirror. Holding the mirror in his left hand, Bud turned his back to the quake-maker and aimed his i-gun backwards over his shoulder. His aim was vague, but he reasoned an electric shock to the system should cause
some
sort of useful damage.
Same strategy what’s-his-name used in fighting the Medusa!
thought Bud.
If it works, I’ll have to thank him!

He squeezed the trigger-switch. A pitiful spark dribbled off the nuzzle emitter. And that was all.

Exman moved one of his sensarray globes slightly. "Right," Bud grumbled in angry despair. "You only need one of the globes to keep an eye on me."

"I feel your frustration, Bud," said Exman. "But my energy wave is sufficient to prevent the function of your device. I hope you respect my moral principles, my friend. According to the television program
Arise and Praise,
steadfastness is a great virtue."

"Couldn’t you use your energy wave to disable the quakelizor yourself?" Tom implored. "Then you would be in complete control of what happens."

"That is morally irrelevant, Tom. Anti-X is directly linked to the silico-crystalloid transmitter mass. Any such action would put him at risk. It is wrong to risk a life as a mere means to some end."

Bud shouted, "It’s a blob of energy!
It’s not alive!"

"I am a blob of energy, and I am alive," retorted Exman mildly. Tom flashed Bud a look that told the youth not to pursue the point.

"Then what will you allow us to do, Exman?" Tom demanded. "There
must
be some way to prevent the destruction of Shopton and Enterprises!" His voice faltered even as he spoke. To the whirring of motors, the pyramid was beginning to rotate into position!

Ole Think Box slightly waggled one of his rod-arm assemblies. He was shaking his head. "The decision belongs to my brother. He is an independent moral agent."

"But—!"

"Anti-X has made his decision." The pyramid had ceased moving! It began to glow with a strange, greenish luminance. "The node will be transmitted in sixteen seconds." As the boys looked on in helpless horror, the energy-brain added: "You may wish to ask yourselves why you so easily deprecate the conscience of we nonhuman visitors to your world."

"We didn’t know you’d grow one!" snapped Tom bitterly.

"Now you know. And as for Anti-X, in beginning to share our thoughts, I have been able to share with him some of my conscience. He has decided that the moral course of action is to override the instructions he was given."

"What!"
shouted Bud. "Let me say it again.—
What!"

"He will not induce an earth tremor at Shopton."

"But—but the transmitter is glowing more brightly!" Tom objected. "What’s he doing?"

"Anti-X has made a moral decision that gives me pleasure," pronounced Exman. "To protect you and your planet, he will use the energy-force to collapse this underground structure and destroy the quake mechanism, and his own survival container as well."

Bud sputtered, "But—but—we’ll be trapped here ourselves! Doesn’t he realize that humans are delicate devices?"

"He does, for he has now shared my thoughts. He will delay emission as long as he is able. But he cannot completely halt the process. In your terms, he fears he may lose his nerve!"

As the three hurried from the chamber, brilliant lightning-like bolts were beginning to flash across the surface of the pyramid. "That’s why Oldmother called the Brungarians
lightning-men!"
Tom gasped.

Bursting through the access hatchway Tom and Bud ran toward Streffan Mirov, waiting calmly next to the chopper. Exman moved almost as quickly on his treads. As they whirled into the air, Mirov remarked: "I take it you were successful in ‘freeing’ the ‘prisoner’."

"We achieved our goal," Tom responded, gazing down at the ground. Dirt and rocks were beginning to slide down the hillsides. The tremor had begun!

The quake rapidly grew in violence. The watchers shouted in sudden surprise as the entire flat area collapsed into the ground, leaving behind a deep crater. "No doubt this is your method of avoiding violence," commented Mirov dryly. Tom gulped.

Arriving back at the
Sky Queen,
Tom spoke softly to Exman as he guided him back to his secure hutch in the skyship’s flying hangar. "I know you have feelings, Exman. You must feel awful about what happened to your ‘brother’."

"Thank you for asking, Tom. I am not disturbed. Anti-X has gone to a better place."

"I understand," Tom nodded. "What the Informatics people call the Higher Plane."

"No. The better place is within me! To explain, at the end I was much better able to communicate with him. Our combined energy-forces were sufficient to unseal his container and allow him to transmit himself to my life chamber. I have learned to open the shutter, you see. Our energies have merged, yet we retain our individual identities—two ‘I’s’ in one body!"

Tom marveled. "That’s great! But I’m not sure the energy feed in your canister will be sufficient to sustain two matrices."

"Perhaps you should watch more television, my friend," Exman suggested. "I learned of a common maxim. Two can live as cheap as one!"

As the Flying Lab zoomed homeward across the Atlantic, Tom sat with his father in the upper-deck lounge. They gazed silently through the great viewports at a deep violet sky. A few stars were becoming visible.

"What an incredible thing this all has been," Tom said. "Whatever the X-ians are like, their scientific accomplishments are tremendous. Just imagine, sending a thinking brain of pure energy to another planet light-years away! It’ll be a long time before we Earth folk can do anything like that."

Damon Swift responded slowly. Tom could tell that his father was in a thoughtful, sober mood. "A word comes to mind, son—
hubris
—pridefulness. We must remember that any brain or mind we are able to produce—even one who, like Exman, comes to think of himself as a person—will be vastly different from the real thing. The mind of a human being or any thinking inhabitant of our universe is based on a divine soul. That’s what I believe, anyway, and I know you believe it too. No scientist must ever delude himself into believing he can challenge the work of our Creator."

"I know that, Dad," Tom said. "We didn’t create Exman. We just gave him a name and a place to live. And you know what?—I don’t think the Planet X people created Exman either. What they created by their science was a kind of body that allowed something from somewhere else to participate in our physical world. Man’s work will always be a crude groping compared to what the designer of Nature has already done."

"Yes," agreed Mr. Swift. "Although I’m sure young Jad thinks of you as a real miracle worker."

The younger Swift chuckled. "Well, I remember something Great-Grandfather Tom once said.
‘We inventors never produce new miracles. We only rearrange the old ones!’
."

It was a quiet conversation father and son would never forget.

Back at Swift Enterprises, work with the visitor from Planet X continued. But the first full day after the return brought a disappointment.

"I know you’re very anxious to learn of Planet X and its inhabitants," Exman told Tom. "I have been avoiding this subject, but I have learned about assertiveness and now I must inform you that there is no information that I can provide."

Tom’s face fell. "Why?"

"Because the Masters who sent me on my mission refrained from implanting any prior knowledge other than the minimum needed to allow me to function and communicate."

It was a bitter disappointment. But Tom forced a wan smile. "I guess this time all the learning will flow in just one direction."