Ed and Barbara and Prell came to the of the sooner than they had intended. Without instruments, it was hard to judge velocity. They did not use their Midas Touch long to check speed as they approached the great blue-green with its ring. They the atmosphere, not fast, but fast enough. Briefly, was around them in a whistle, like a vast, thin wind. They over and over, and the that them together was broken. Tumultuous of the high and them as they lower.
Ed was unhurt. And did he hear—more in his than his ears, here in the semi-vacuum—a laugh and shout: "It's all right, Eddie ..."? The away, like the voice of some vanishing. He'd of Barbara. Now they were two specks, from each other in the of the atmosphere. Even with the logic of plan and method, there was still some about how they would each other again.
Using his radio, he to call. But there was no answer. The up from powerful millions of miles away. But for transmission, its range and that of those like it had to be short: a score of yards—a in units.
Ed was now, alone and high, as his wife and uncle must be, too. Well, they'd meant this to soon anyway. So there was no difference, was there? Get to work quickly, to the surface, where the high clouds to on the Atlantic and on the of the continent. Ed's flamed, him toward the City. His was to Carter Loman, a key enemy. Prell's was Tom Granger; then he would try to the androids, through Abel Freeman. And Barbara was to try to the of by means she could. That, in fact, was the purpose of them all.
Downdrafts Ed's descent, while he to his quartz-chip radio. Was one who as as Loman in the news of the day difficult to find? Ed did not too much trouble in him. Many people would know where Loman was and mention of the place would be frequent. Crowds would him everywhere.
As Ed a of spacecraft, low on their foils, the came easily enough: "... Carter Loman's at the Three Worlds Hotel are under guard."
Ed was more now in around in the region of smallness. Erratically but effectively, using of air and the of his Midas Touch blast, he toward a sky-piercing tower. He into the of the hotel's lobby, now by the of shields. For a minutes Ed on the desk; he was less there than a of cigarette ash.
There were for Loman, by telephone and in person, mostly by men. The them off briskly. But soon there came thunder, so low that it was almost to Ed as and not as a vibration: "More for Mr. Loman...."
The of Ed's was almost too small to see as he to the of and up with the attendant, past the guards, and with a through a slot, and into Carter Loman's presence.
He was on a and was in full of a type than would have been necessary on a world. It was with special as well: filaments, like parts of the of a Midas Touch weapon. Hovering over the shape, Ed the hard, of a his he too close. Even though his own life was in principle, of those kill him. Loman had and nervous, with what he might now face. In to his costume, this who his was an of low-speed neutrons, being from the on his armor. Just then, the Ed its frustration. Loman the on space travel.
The him, the of a window, did not look at ease. Loman was muttering. He must have been at it, off and on, for a long time: "I wouldn't be if you were around, Prell. Or you, Dukas. I was right! I know all about your little self, Prell. It was all in your brain. You think you'll play a David against Goliath, eh? If out your didn't kill you...."
No, Ed Dukas was not so easily defeated. The of out only by was not of intensity. At points there might well be in it, at which time he to close without having his own up to the point of his destruction. But he did anything final, he had to out where Prell's was.
Ed the of the air-filtering in the room and smiled. And there was a television nearby. Ed have ways, now, to make his own voice to his enemy and to challenge him. But Ed against this for the present. He mustn't waste time, yet he that he on the of a not to wait here very long.
Again he was right. Perched on a by an of the wall, Ed waited less than five minutes Carter Loman jumped up from the bed, cursed, and from the room. Ed's Midas Touch in his hand as he after him. Of than other men, Loman untiring, in his and plastic helmet, a stairs, a hundred levels.
Then he was in a small, powerful car along a that Ed well. Clinging to that was like a under him, Ed by the of air that came from speed.
Around him passed that he used to know, so that much of the familiar mood of it was lost; and he himself cut off from it, like a back. But there was other, beauty, too—closer to the of what he was now. There'd been a by the weather towers. Now the sun again, and the air sparkled, not with dust, but with of moisture—crystal globes, clear as lenses, but the into hues.
Ed's of mind ended when Loman did an odd thing. He stopped in Ed's old neighborhood, after having passed a half-dozen road where men had themselves, their vehicles with cut branches. Loman had only his Interworld Security at each post, to permission to go on.
Loman stopped his car a house to Ed's own—one Ed well. But Ed had an odd that this was not as as it seemed. This suburb, close to the City, many of the noted and notorious. Besides, many events had been these hundred square miles. And Loman had been in the neighborhood before, in the company of Police Chief Bronson. Also, had there always been something familiar about Loman's manner?
Ed at the of an enigma, as Loman up the walk to the house. Loman the door locked, but if this him, it stopped him not at all. An shoulder, up by the of his kind—their power publicly—battered the door to and Loman through.
Ed him—as as part of the atmosphere—up a and into a student room in scale.
It was Les Payten's room which had thus been without ceremony. Nor was the the least that the Les, and after his long from a visit to Abel Freeman, was present.
Ed saw his old friend's expression, then the of his words: "Chummy, aren't you, in like this? The police, eh? What have I done? My God, I've your picture! You're Loman!"
The other giant's was gentle, humorous. "That's my name—if you prefer," he said. "I've had you watched, Lester Payten, for reasons. You've been ill. Then why do you so close to what may the lines? You're an odd guy, Lester. Too much fear, and conscience. Wanting to be a hero, but a martyr. Recently one of the 'reasonable' kind. Soon there won't be any of those left. Not when a more see those they love open, or by more than Tyrannosaurus Rex. Such the of thoughtfulness. And, good! For in that way the comes against another of that the of man! You're a mixed-up kid, Lester—maybe of some old companions. But in your you know that you're all human. Me, I'm still sentimental, so I had to come to you at last. You ought to be safe among the asteroids, like your mother."
Being an audience to these comments, Ed's slowly toward of a truth. Drifting with the air near the center of the room, he Les Payten at his desk, his look also that he was at the of understanding. But maybe his mind to into the of beyond. Too much had possible. Sometimes it might be a land too for wits.
Maybe terror Les to violence. Or it was the in Loman's words. In a of movement Les to a from his desk. Confronted by a being, he might have succeeded. But Loman dared, first, to off the around his armor, so as not to or kill the one he had come to see. Then quick onto Les's wrists. Les with all his might but was pushed on the floor. Dazed, he looked up at his conqueror.
"Yes, your memory-man father killed himself," Loman said. "But he always return by recording, couldn't he? Before that, it was all arranged—with many who with the cause. The mind that my views were truthful. Interworld Security use someone who was clever, unknown, and active. Umhm-m—maybe I'm than they hoped! Yes, I'm still an android, Les, I have to be for battle. I who of it now, the is sure to come. But I'll be a man again, when and if I can. And, like a man, I love my son. Things will very difficult soon, Lester. So I want you with me."
Loman's might have to common ears. But he it with a light to Les's jaw. Les crumpled. For a moment this echo of his original sire, in and form, over him, an by any standard.
The sun had set. From the the window came flashes, light lightning, off toward the hills. They on Loman's plastic window, which had his at all. Loman to match those flickers: science misused; wisdom, once for so carefully, fading; the armaments, by a master technology in and on mountain-top, by sides. And the of a star ship engine perverted. Once, on a Moon, a thing like that had exploded, just by error or chance. There had been no wild speeches to it about. Nor any panic. And there had been no Lomans to help in a more way.
Unless were checked, the end come this very night. Ed if he might waste valuable time close to Loman any longer. Would it lead to more answers, as he had it must? Well, he still was sure of that, and Loman also by haste. So Ed on Les's and into the cloth. It was the thing to do. For might be used, it would not be at Les.
Loman up the and out to his car. There a wild along through the woods. Distantly, on a hilltop, Ed saw a metal skyward. It a level anything. But its power supply complete in a last to madness, for revenge—if someone of himself, the safety stops on controls, pushed a little them.
There were on the road. Horror had been already, as the City. Beside one car, to a of fire the of a child, glimpsed. And Ed a man's and protests, at the sky from among the trees. Or it have come just as well from an throat?
If it was Jones of common or Smith, an android, it make any difference? Yet it was an old thing—a man's against wrong.
Still, was it hard to see a sequel, when something in the brain? A of explosion. Then, and rage, or death meaningless. Good and kindness, once to desperately, then zero, and Earth, sky and empty phantoms. Then you picture the one someone of the other kind? Could you picture him his own at another car and its until his own were in the of incandescence?
Ed Dukas on through the in Loman's car, still to the at the of his friend, Les Payten. The sky still flickered—warning barrages, not yet to kill. An swooped, its a high-flying that was not of metal. Some had been destroyed, but others always came—though they had been numerous. A other along the road—persons the of the City.
Ed if the ping in his quartz-chip radio was the ultra-sonic of a in action, meant to Loman's course? At last the of law might do that to their own, if some of them with Loman's or that it had too extreme. Chief Bronson, for one, had a man. Besides, after a mind probe, many would an android.
Ed that this must be a to a hide-out, which he had to see.
The car for a mile along a narrow road, where, high banks, the stopped. Had Loman on their effect? Deeper in the woods, a of on a hinge, and the car rolled inside. Then the great door closed it. Ed was not by so a as this. Now, with his cut off, Loman Les through a low doorway, into a great, low out of bedrock. Could Loman and Mitchell Prell be as as this in their choice of places? Queer—and yet not so queer. Both were scientists. Prell had the of and Loman, in his original as Ronald Payten, had been a from the start.
Ed might have attacked, now that Loman's was inactive. But it be in an instant. Better to wait. A might well come. His enemy might be trying to any small, close to the of the aura.
Besides, in the soft light, lay—answers that Ed had only suspected, in of Loman's background. Since he had learned who Loman was, there hadn't been time for him to understand. But now the to a came easily, Ed here unseen.
There were here, too, than any Ed had from any and with their apparatus. Beneath the surface of the fluid, like in the floor, were visible—all but in their state, their plates of and showing, but already alive and in slight, motion. And no these were only in the state. They much after being set free to and kill. Here, then, was the devil's of creation. Here the must have been and created. It was Ronald Payten's work—the product of his skill and his quirks. Madness in vitaplasm, to help and man and the to a climax.
And there was more. Against one was the of Mitchell Prell's laboratory on Mars—or most of it. The were empty. But on a table the larger microscope, as if what be through its eye-piece had been under examination. Perhaps the doll-like shape, the other vats, the machine shop and that were still there. And what at a still size level. Across such a of distance, Ed Dukas not see such detail. But he the of and frustration. No path to normal was here, yet. And the time was not ripe—if it would come. Besides, did all of him want to return, if part of him for it?
Carter Loman, or Ronald Payten, close to Les, his and wide face, the of plastic and shielding, like an world in the sky. But if you had the mind to notice, Loman's was almost just then. His voice came to Ed's as a and quake: "Lester! Wake up! I didn't you that hard."
Les to have been onto a of some kind. Perhaps he had already moments ago and had since been on of his surroundings, out and the of his own feelings. Ed at some of this: an revealed; Ronald Payten—creator of monsters; Les Payten's pseudo-father. Then, for Les, horror, shame, fury.
For Ed, the world to as Les leaped. Les was not now and was still in his convalescence. And maybe he had been and unsure, or in his past choices. But at this moment he was not at all in doubt, though the attack he have been pure, wild fright.
"Father, indeed! I'll kill you—Phony!" he screamed. Then he was with Loman with all the that and muster.
For that moment at least, he was Ed Dukas's ally, or otherwise. For he Loman's attention diverted. And of Les's attack Loman's off.
Ed and jetted, his Midas Touch a visible as it flamed. He on the near the of Loman's and at the of his helmet. Holding tight, Ed let his again, this time using it to blast a hole. He the of energy from the and then the moment of to and as he through. Now he in Loman's private atmosphere, the great helmet, as Loman's with Les on.
Now was the time to test a plan: the speck-sized man against a being of dimensions—comparatively as as a mountain. And it was against android, against advantage.
Loman's lungs, active now to give to a of triumph, Ed in deeply. With his full still to his shoulders, he through and gloom. When the air quieted, he clung, a of and in his hand, as he cut through soft tissue.
Thus he a small and was along by the it. It was a world of warm, rivers. Dim, light sometimes its way through the of flesh. Or was it, still the that Loman's body, to the of oxygen, had on Mars? But its physical structure, from its substance, human: the red blood along in the gloom.
Only wait now to be to the right position. Ed when he passed the great and of Loman's heart. But, no, this was not the place for action. He himself now. Good! Was the the than elsewhere? Ed his way into channels. Around him he still saw very the themselves. Here they had long, filaments. They were the brain cells, question.
He not use his Midas Touch here. The at its very would have exploded. But he had of much the same function. Set the of one and it here.
Before Ed was to the lungs, he the concussion. Then came the wild of the colossus. A of had its head, opening to and with and radiation. A of might on, but a mind was dead. Had total death come quickly, all movement ceasing, Ed might have had to his way from the corpse.
But his luck out. He the lungs, and a great of air him into the again.
Loman's still on the floor. One enemy was from the at least. Loman—or the Ronald Payten—had been as an active of history, but the he had helped up was by now self-sustaining. Ed gave him a brief, almost thought. A woman had her husband in the Moonblast. And he was her memory re-created. She had had to science. And he had been and marked by her view. He was a product of his times—impossible in the centuries that came before. Ed that he himself—as he was now, certainly—was also the child of his era. His uncle must always have been that. Babs—wherever she was now—was also of these years. And his dad, and others. Maybe, you had to a of for Loman, though not much. And would anyone want to him to life, if the world on existing?
