“How did they find out?”
“As you know, the biggest battles to date have all been fought in the Lathian sector. Both sides have taken prisoners: Our Eustaces told us that each Lathian prisoner had a controlling Willy but was blissfully unaware of it.” He grinned, added, “They made it plain that a Eustace doesn’t think much of a Willy. Apparently a Willy is a pretty low form of associated life.”
Frowning, the Commandant said, “This is something definite, something we should be able to check for ourselves: But how are we going to do it if the Lathians are ignorant of this state of affairs?”
“Easy as pie,” Leeming offered. “They are holding a bunch of Terran prisoners. Get someone to ask those prisoners separately and individually, whether the Lathians’ have the Willies.”
“We’ll do just that,” snapped the Commandant, his manner that of one about to call a bluff. He turned to the right-hand officer. “Bajashim, beam a signal to our chief liaison officer at Lathian H.Q. and order him to question those prisoners.”
“You can double-check while you’re at it,” interjected Leeming, “just to clinch it. To us, anyone who shares his life with an invisible being is known as a Nut Ask the prisoners whether all the Lathians are Nuts.”
“Take note of that and have it asked as well,” ordered the Commandant. He returned attention to Leeming. “Since you could not anticipate your forced landing and capture, and since you have been kept in close confinement, there is no possibility of collusion between you and the Terran prisoners far away.”
“That’s right ”
“Therefore I shall weigh your evidence in the light of what replies come to my signal.” He stared hard at the other. “If those replies fail to confirm your statements I’ll know that you are a shameless liar in some respects and probably a liar in all respects. Here, we have special and very effective methods of dealing with liars.”
“That’s to be expected. But if the replies do confirm me you’ll know that I’ve told the truth, won’t you?”
“No,” said the Commandant savagely.
It was Leeming’s turn to be shocked. “Why not?”
Thinning his lips, the Commandant growled, “As I have remarked, there cannot possibly have been any direct communication between you and other Terran prisoners. However, that means nothing. There can have been collusion between your Eustace and their Eustaces.”
Bending sideways, he jerked open a drawer, placed a loop-assembly on the desk. Then another and another. A bunch of them.
“Well,” he invited with malicious triumph, “what have you to say to that?”
NINE
Leeming went into something not far off a momentary panic. He could see what the other meant. He could talk to his Eustace who in turn could talk to other Eustaces. And the other Eustaces could talk to their imprisoned partners.
Get yourself out of that!
He had an agile mind but after three months of semi-starvation it was tending to lose pace. Lack of adequate nourishment was telling on him already; his thoughts plodded at the very time he wanted them to sprint.
The three behind the desk were waiting for him, watching His face, counting the seconds he needed to produce an answer. The longer he took to find one the weaker it would be. The quicker he came up with something good the more plausible it would sound. Cynical satisfaction was creeping into their faces and he was inwardly frantic by the time he saw an opening and grabbed at it.
“You’re wrong on two counts.”
“State them.”
“Firstly, one Eustace cannot communicate with another over a distance so enormous. His mental output just won’t reach that far. To talk from world to world he has to have the help of a Terran who, in his turn, has radio equipment available.”
“We’ve only your word for that,” the Commandant reminded. “If a Eustace can communicate without limit it would be your best policy to conceal the fact. You would be a fool to admit it.”
“I cannot do more than give you, my word regardless of whether or not you credit it.”
“I do not credit it-yet ”
“No Terran task force has rushed to my rescue, as would happen had my Eustace told them about me.”
“Pfah!” said the Commandant. “It would take them much longer to get here than the time you have spent as a prisoner. Probably twice as long: And then only if by some miracle they managed to avoid being shot to pieces on the way. The absence of a rescue party means nothing.” He waited for a response that did not come, finished, “if you have anything else to say it had better be convincing.”
“It is,” assured Leeming. “And we don’t have my word for it. We have yours.”
“Nonsense! I have made no statements concerning Eustaces.”
“On the contrary, you have said that there could be collusion between them.”
“What of it?”
“There can be collusion only if Eustaces really exist, in which case my evidence is true. But if my evidence is false, then Eustaces do not exist and there cannot possibly be a conspiracy between non-existent things.”
The Commandant sat perfectly still while his face took on a faint shade of purple. He looked and felt like a trapper trapped. The left-hand officer wore an expression of one struggling hard to suppress a disrespectful snicker.
“If,” continued Leeming, piling it on for good measure; “you do not believe in Eustaces then you cannot logically believe in conspiracy between them. On the other hand, if you believe in the possibility of collusion then you’ve got to believe in Eustaces. That is, of course, if you’re in bright green breeches and your right mind.”
“~Guard ” roared the Commandant. He pointed an angry finger. “Take him back to his cell.” Obediently they started hustling the prisoner through the door when he changed his mind and bawled, “Halt!” Snatching up a loop-assembly, he waved it at Leeming. “Where did you get the material with which to make this?”
“My Eustace brought it for me. Who else?”
“Get out of my sight!”
“Merse, faplap!” urged the guards, prodding, with their guns. “Amash! Amash!”
The rest of that day and all the next one he spent sitting or lying on the bench, reviewing what had taken place, planning his next moves and in lighter moments admiring his own ability as a whacking great liar.
Now and again he wandered how his efforts to battle his way to freedom with his tongue compared with Rigellian attempts to do it with bare hands. Who was making the most progress? Of greater importance, who, once out, would stay out? One thing was certain: his method was less tiring to the underfed and weakened body though more exhausting to the nerves.
Another advantage was that for the time being he had sidetracked their intention of squeezing him for military information. Or had he? Possibly from their viewpoint his revelations concerning the dual nature of Terrans were infinitely more important than details of armaments, which data might be false anyway. All the same, he had avoided for a time what might otherwise have been a rough and painful interrogation. By thus postponing the agony he had added brilliance to the original gem of wisdom, namely, that baloney baffles brains.
Just for the ducks of it he bided his time and, when the spyhole opened, let it catch him in the middle of giving grateful thanks to Eustace for some weird service not specified. As intended, this got the jumpy Marsin to wondering who had arrived at the crossroads and copped some of Eustace’s dirty work. Doubtless the sergeant of the guard would speculate about the same matter before long. And in due course so would the officers.
Near midnight, with sleep still evading him, it occurred to him that there vas no point in doing things by halves. If a thing is worth doing it is worth doing well—and that applies to lying or to any form of villainy as much as to anything else. Why rest content merely to register a knowing smile whenever the enemy suffered a petty misfortune?