Jim's hand showed in one of the photographs, and the size of the Thing could very readily be deduced. But the Security Coordinator of Eastern Sector 5 had simply not noticed it. Because if he had, he would have considered that Jim was trying to play a joke on him. And of course no crime could be compared to the unthinkable insolence of trying to play a joke on a Security Coordinator!
Fat Doctor Oberon, of Physchological Precautions, beamed at a letter which did not contain any photographs at all. He had been quite sure that the young man Hunt, whom he himself had sentenced to Life Custody for experimenting in a forbidden field, had had confederates. Now here was a letter from young Hunt, who had made a truly remarkable escape from Security Custody. Hunt respectfully stated that he was surrendering himself and would bring in a sample of the thought-transmitters which Security detectors had shown to be in use, but which they had not succeeded in tracking down.
Doctor Oberon beamed complacently. The young man had learned that it would not do to trifle with Security. Obviously, he expected to secure a commutation of his sentence by complete surrender and the betrayal of his confederates. But he was a dangerous character. He would be allowed to betray his companions, of course. But so unprincipled and desperate a person amounted to a psychological hazard for the public at large. Permanent and very strict confinement would be necessary.
Doctor Oberon sighed in pious satisfaction. It was always gratifying to have the sense of duty well done which came of a peril to the public safely fore-fended....
A newspaper editor growled, "What'll these cranks think of next? Who's this Hunt fella who wrote this? 'Says he escaped Security Custody and is classed as dead, but he's very much alive and here are his fingerprints. Then he sends us these pictures and says these things are alive and he's turning one over to Security? Who's Hunt?"
Somebody investigated.
"Huh! Jumped from a patrol-ship, eh? Sounds flukey.... Check the fingerprints anyhow. If they do check— but they won't—get a tame scientist to classify this thing-whatever it is—and tell 'im to make it dangerous for a picture spread. Get what you can on Hunt Now, where's that sport-scandal story—"
An hour later on the visiphone, "What's that? ... The scientist says it's alive but not terrestrial?....Don't belong in any earthly phylon? What the hell's a phylon?..... He means it's something that comes from another world? Let him stick his neck out! Make him sign it!....
We'll play it up as famous scientist says creatures from other worlds have reached earth. One has been captured by young Hunt and is on the way to scientific circles for examination.... Hey! Make it intelligent! He guesses it comes from Mars! Martians have copied the guided missiles we've sent there and come back in improved models!.... That's the angle ... Say, when's this guy Hunt going to turn over this creature? We've got to have some reporters covering that...."
Jim Hunt drove into the state capital with his head bandaged. The bandage held the wire cap in place, and was so obvious a trick that it was noticed and instantly dismissed, whereas a patently false head of hair would have caused him to be regarded with suspicion. He halted in traffic where a sidewalk visiphone said stridently, "Martians on Earth! Visitors from Other Worlds Have Arrived! Specimen of Other-World Race to reach Security Today! Do they Mean War? Read the Blade! Read the Blade! Read the Blade!"
He caught a glimpse of the visiphone screen. It showed the front page of a newspaper, and spread across the middle of the news-columns were reproductions of three of the pictures he and Brandon had taken.
But he wouldn't let himself hope. Not yet. There was that trick the Things might think of ... He drove on grimly toward the local office of Security. So far everything looked perfect. But everything had looked perfect when he'd made the transmitter. The transmitter had failed. This might, too. It shouldn't, but if stupidity and ineptitude could spoil anything, it was certain that the lower officials in Security would manage to spoil it...
There were people waiting in front of Security headquarters. Newsreel men. Still-picture photographers for newspapers. A television set-up. It simply wouldn't be possible for Security to hush up his surrender and the Thing. Even if there was a policy to make the world safe by allowing nothing that was unsafe to be known or found out or searched for.
He parked the car and got out of it. He was ignored. He opened the trunk-back. He was still ignored, though some people did sniff uneasily at the pungent filthy, beastly smell that came out of it. Carrying the cage eagerly, he essayed to work his way through-There was a rush. A small, savage knot of men formed and broke ruthlessly through the tangle of camera-tripods and wires. They leaped upon Jim. Hands clutched at his throat. Men snarled at him with the hysterical, terrible rage implanted by the Things in the minds of their subjects at however great a distance. Something struck Jim's head with terrific force. He felt the cage snatched from his hands. Then he knew nothing.
22
He was in a court-room. In Security court, which of course was not at all like other courts. The evidence had been heard in secret, which was standard Security practice lest facts be revealed which it was unwise to have publicly known—the details of an illegal experiment, for example. The sentence, however, would be public. There was still news-interest in Jim Hunt. He had made a remarkable escape from a Security patrol-ship. He was an unusually desperate and resolute offender against Security. And he had worked a very clever publicity trick. But instead of the forty or fifty reporters and photographers who had waited to watch his surrender to Security, now there were just two to hear his sentence and both were very junior and correspondingly blasé.
Doctor Oberon sat on the judicial bench and beamed complacently. He was distinctly a third-rate man and did not often have the chance to bask in so much publicity. When there was silence—and with no spectators and only two reporters and the Security Police present that did not take long—Doctor Oberon cleared his throat. He said blandly, "Having been detailed by Security to determine this case, I have heard all that the prisoner has to say. If he denies that his defense has been heard, let him speak now."
"It was heard," said Jim Hunt, raging, "by an opinionated fool!"
Doctor Oberon looked piously forgiving.
"The prisoner," he said with pained charity, "was previously sentenced to Life Custody for experiments in a forbidden subject, against the public welfare. He was detected in possession of an elaborate laboratory and in conjunction with other yet unapprehended criminals, conducting this highly dangerous research."
Doctor Oberon lectured complacently on the need for the protection of the public against dangerous knowledge.
"His sentence—which I was unfortunate enough to have to impose—was Life Custody. I urged him to reveal his confederates—"
Jim Hunt said clearly, "There were no confederates! But the Things transmit thought!"
"Now," said Doctor Oberon regretfully, "he comes before this court again. He surrendered himself under most suspicious circumstances. He had announced publicly that he had captured an alien, non-terrestrial life form. He claimed that he would deliver this life form for study and the verification of statements he would make on its delivery. He appeared, seemingly with the life form in question, at a Security office. And then a band of persons who were apparently his confederates in a hoax upon Security dashed at him, seized the small supposed cage in which he ostensibly carried this most unlikely creature and fled. Since then, he has demanded that Security undertake an elaborate investigation of what he declares to be an invasion by extra-terrestrial creatures. He asserts that they have an entire section of this state under their —ah—hypnotic control. It is difficult to determine whether he is a deliberate imposter of extraordinary brashness, or a person subject to delusions."