Brilliant stars shone overhead. A cluster of a thousand suns, two thousand light-years away, made a center of illumination that gave Maya's night the quality of a vivid if diffused moonlight. The cars went on. Presently Calhoun felt the twitchings of minor muscular spasms. The road became two, and then four, and then eight lanes wide. Then four lanes swirled off to one side, and the remaining four presently doubled, and then widened again, and it was the twelve-lane turnpike that had brought Calhoun here from Maya City.
But the rhythmic interference with his body grew stronger. Allison had spoken not one word while Calhoun conferred with the people of Maya beyond the highway. His teeth chattered as they started back. He didn't attempt to speak during the beginning of the ride through the cattle-fence field. His teeth chattered, and stopped, and chattered again, and at long last he panted despairingly:
"Are you going to let the thing kill me?"
Calhoun stopped. The cars behind him stopped. He gave Allison two pellets and took two himself. With Murgatroyd insistently accompanying him, he went along the cars which trailed him. He made sure the six men he'd asked for took their pellets and that they had an adequate effect. He went back to the sports car.
Allison whimpered a little when he and Murgatroyd got back in.
"I thought," said Calhoun conversationally, "that you might try to take off by yourself, just now. It would solve a problem for me—of course it wouldn't solve any for you. But I don't think your problems have any solution, now."
He started the car up again. It moved forward. The other cars trailed dutifully. They went on through the starlit night. Calhoun noted that the effect of the cattle-fence was less than it had been before. The first desensitizing pellets had not wholly lost their effect when he added more. But he kept his speed low until he was certain the other drivers had endured the anguish of passing through the cattle-fence field.
Presently he was confident that the cattle-field was past. He sent his car up to eighty miles an hour. The other cars followed faithfully. To a hundred. They did not drop behind. The car hummed through the night at top speed—a hundred and twenty, a hundred and thirty miles an hour. The three other cars' headlights faithfully kept pace with him.
Allison said desperately:
"Look! I—don't understand what's happened. You talk as if I'd planned all this. I—did have advance notice of a—a research project here. But it shouldn't have held the people there for days! Something went wrong! I only believed that people would want to leave Maya. I'd only planned to buy as much acreage as I could, and control of as many factories as possible. That's all! It was business! Only business!"
Calhoun did not answer. Allison might be telling the truth. Some business men would think it only intelligent to frighten people into selling their holdings below a true value. Something of the sort happened every day in stock exchanges. But the people of Maya could have died!
For that matter, they still might. They couldn't return to their homes and food so long as broadcast power kept the cattle-fence in existence. But they couldn't return to their homes and food supplies if the power-broadcast was cut off, either.
V
Calhoun considered coldly. They were beyond what had been the farthest small city on the multiple highway. They would go on past now starlit fields of plants native to Maya, passing many places where trucks loaded with the plants climbed up to the roadway and headed for the factories which made use of them. The fields ran for scores of miles along the highway's length. They reached out beyond the horizon—perhaps scores of miles in that direction, too. There were thousands upon thousands of square miles devoted to the growing of dark-green vegetation which supplied the raw materials for Maya's space-exports. Some hundred-odd miles ahead, the small town of Tenochitlan lay huddled in the light of a distant star-cluster. Beyond that, more highway and Maya City. Beyond that—
Calhoun reasoned that the projector to make the induction cattle-fence would be beyond Maya City, somewhere in the mountains the space-photograph in the spaceport building showed. A large highway went into those mountains for a limited distance only. A ground-inductor projector field always formed at a right angle to the projector which was its source. It could be adjusted—the process was analogous to focusing—to come into actual being at any distance desired, and the distance could be changed. To drive the people of Maya City eastward, the projector of a cattle-fence would need to be west of the people to be driven. Logically, it would belong in the mountains. Practically, it would be concealed. Drawing on broadcast power to do its work, there would be no large power-source needed to give it the six million kilowatts it required. It should be quite easy to hide beyond any quick or easy discovery. Hunting it out might require days or weeks of searching. But the people beyond the end of the highway couldn't wait. They had no food, and holes scrabbled down to ground-water by men digging with their bare hands simply would not be adequate. The cattle-fence had to be cut off immediately. The broadcast of power had to be continued.
Calhoun made an abrupt grunting noise. Phrasing the thing that needed to be done was practically a blue-print of how to do it. Simple! He'd need the two electronics engineers, of course. But that would be the trick . . .
He drove on at a hundred and thirty miles an hour with his lips set wryly. The three other cars came behind him. Murgatroyd watched the way ahead. Mile after mile, half-minute after half-minute, the headlights cast brilliantly blinding beams before the cars. Murgatroyd grew bored. He said, "Chee!" in a discontented fashion and tried to curl up between Allison and Calhoun. There wasn't room. He crawled over the seatback. He moved about, back there. There were rustling sounds. He settled down. Presently there was silence. Undoubtedly he had draped his furry tail across his nose and gone soundly off to sleep.
Allison spoke suddenly. He'd had time to think, but he had no practice in various ways of thinking.
"How much money have you got?" he asked.
"Not much," said Calhoun. "Why?"
"I—haven't done anything illegal," said Allison, with an unconvincing air of confidence, "but I could be put to some inconvenience if you were to accuse me before others of what you've accused me personally. You seem to think that I planned a highly criminal act. That the action I know of—the research project I'd heard of—that it became—that it got out of hand is likely. But I am entirely in the clear. I did nothing in which I did not have the advice of counsel. I am legally unassailable. My lawyers—"
"That's none of my business," Calhoun told him. "I'm a medical man. I landed here in the middle of what seemed to be a serious public-health situation. I went to see what had happened. I've found out. I still haven't the answer—not the whole answer anyway. But the human population of Maya is in a state of some privation, not to say danger. I hope to end it. But I've nothing to do with anybody's guilt or innocence of crime or criminal intent or anything else."
Allison swallowed. Then he said with smooth confidence:
"But you could cause me inconvenience. I would appreciate it if you would—would—"
"Cover up what you've done?" asked Calhoun.
"No. I've done nothing wrong. But you could simply use discretion. I landed by parachute to complete some business deals I'd arranged months ago. I will go through with them. I will leave on the next ship. That's perfectly open and above-board. Strictly business. But you could make a—an unpleasing public image of me. Yet I have done nothing any other business man wouldn't do. I did happen to know of a research project—"