That attack upon Virgil Samms, and its by those new super-lawmen, the Lensmen, and by an entire of the North American Armed Forces, was news of Civilization-wide importance. As such, it every of Universal Telenews for an hour. Then, in and succession, came the reports of the of the Galactic Patrol, the mobilization—allegedly for maneuvers—of Galactic Patrol's Grand Fleet, and the and all-too-nearly successful attack upon The Hill.
"Just a second, folks; we'll have it very shortly. You'll see something that nobody saw and that nobody will see again. We're in as close as the Law will let us." The of Telenews' and the of his from a at the smoking, surface of Triplanetary's citadel; while upon of worlds thousands of millions of people packed themselves and around of millions of and loud-speakers in order to see and to the news.
"There it is, folks, look at it—the only by man! A good many of our had it off as obsolete, long ago, but it these Lensmen had something up their their arms, heh-heh! And speaking of Lensmen, they haven't been their weight around, so most of us haven't noticed them very much, but this wants to go on record right now as saying there must be a more to the Lens than any of us has thought, otherwise nobody would have gone to all that trouble and expense, to say nothing of the of life, just to kill the Chief Lensman, which to have been what they were after.
"We told you a minutes ago, you know, that every Continent of Civilization sent official most any with this outrage. It's still a mystery, folks; in fact, it is more and more all the time. Not one single man of the Black Fleet was taken alive! Not in the ships that were only holed—they themselves up! And there were no or books or anything of the to be in any of the wrecks—no whatever!
"And now for the of all time! Universal Telenews has permission to the two top Lensmen, of you all know—Virgil Samms and 'Rod the Rock' Kinnison—personally for this beam. We are now going down, by control, of course, right into the Galactic office, right in The Hill itself. Here we are. Now if you will step just a little closer to the mike, please, Mr. Samms, or should I say...?"
"You should say 'First Lensman Samms'," Kinnison said bruskly.
"Oh, yes, First Lensman Samms. Thank you, Mr. Kinnison. Now, First Lensman Samms, our clients all want to know all about the Lens. We all know what it does, but what, really, is it? Who it? How it work?"
Kinnison started to say something, but Samms him with a thought.
"I will answer those questions by you one." Samms disarmingly. "Do you what the learned to the of the Triplanetary Service?"
"Oh, I see." The Telenews ace, although and not at all thin-skinned, was quick on the uptake. "Hush-hush? T. S.?"
"Top Secret. Very much so," Samms confirmed, "and we are going to keep some about the Lens as long as we possibly can."
"Fair enough. Sorry folks, but you will agree that they're right on that. Well, then, Mr. Samms, who do you think it was that to kill you, and where do you think the Black Fleet came from?"
"I have no idea," Samms said, slowly and thoughtfully. "No. No idea whatever."
"What? Are you sure of that? Aren't you maybe just a little of a suspicion, for reasons?"
"I am nothing back; and through my Lens I can make you of the fact. Lensed come from the mind itself, direct, not through such as the tongue. The mind not lie—even such as you call 'diplomacy'."
The Lensman and the on:
"He is sure, folks, which me for a second or two—which is a in itself. Now, Mr. Samms, one last question. What is all this Lens about? What are all you Lensmen—the Galactic Council and so on—really up to? What do you to out of it? And why would want to make such an all-out to of you? And give it to me on the Lens, please, if you can do it and talk at the same time—that was a sensation, folks, of the and that it was straight."
"I can and will answer by voice and by Lens. Our purpose is ..." and he the which Mentor had so upon his mind. "You know how little happiness, how little well-being, there is upon any world today. We to both. What we to out of it is and well-being for ourselves, the by any good doing the job for which he is best and in which he takes pride. As to why anyone should want to kill me, the logical would to be that some group or organization or race, to that for which we Lensmen stand, to do away with us and started with me."
"Thank you, Mr. Samms. I am sure that we all this very much. Now, folks, you all know 'Rocky Rod', 'Rod the Rock', Kinnison ... just a little closer, ... thank you. I don't you have any suspicions, either, any more than...."
"I have!" Kinnison barked, so that five hundred people jumped as one. "How do you want it; voice, or Lens, or both?" Then on the Lens: "Think it over, son, I everybody!"
"Bub-both, please, Mr. Kinnison." Even Universal's star was by the but of the big Lensman's thought, but he so that his was noticeable. "Your Lensed to me was that you everybody, Mr. Kinnison?"
"Just that. Everybody. I every government of every world we know, that of North America of Tellus. I political parties and minorities. I pressure groups. I and I labor. I an organization of criminals. I nations and and worlds that no one of us has as yet of—not you, the top-drawer of the universe."
"But you have nothing to go on, I take it?"
"If I did have, do you think I'd be here talking to you?"
First Lensman Samms sat in his private and thought.
Lensman Dronvire of Rigel Four him and helped him think.
Port Admiral Kinnison, with all his and drive, a program of investigation, consolidation, expansion, redesigning, and rebuilding.
Virgilia Samms to a party every night. She danced, she flirted, she talked. How she talked! Meaningless small talk for the most part—but with questions and which, while they did not put her partner of the moment at ease, did not suspicion.
Conway Costigan, Lens under sleeve, but inconspicuous, the ether-lanes; and fully.
Jack Kinnison and and for his friend and boat-mate:
Mason Northrop; who, by of new and ever-more-fantastic complexity, and looked; and tuned; and rebuilt; and—finally—took and and with his ultra-sensitive loops.
DalNalten and Knobos, with of able helpers, the records of three worlds in a search which produced as a by-product a "who's who" of crime.
Skilled millions of cards, by stack, into the most and most to the of the age.
And Dr. Nels Bergenholm, his regular line of work, his to a in the closely of chemistry.
The of Virgil Samms' with charts, diagrams, and figures. Tabulations and up on his and overflowed into upon the floor. Until:
"Lensman Olmstead, of Alphacent, sir," his announced.
"Good! Send him in, please."
The entered. The two men, after at each other for a minute, and hands vigorously. Except for the that the newcomer's was brown, they were identical!
"I'm to see you, George. Bergenholm passed you, of course?"
"Yes. He says that he can match your to mine, the white ones. And he has me a wig-maker's of a wig."
"Married?" Samms' mind ahead to possible complications.
"Widower, same as you. And...."
"Just a minute—going over this once will be enough." He Lensed call after call. Lensmen in parts of space en with him and thus with each other.
"Lensmen—especially you, Rod—George Olmstead is here, and his Ray is available. I am going to work."
"I still don't like it!" Kinnison protested. "It's too dangerous. I told the Universe I was going to keep you covered, and I meant it!"
"That's what makes it perfectly safe. That is, if Bergenholm is sure that the is close ..."
"I am sure." Bergenholm's pseudo-voice left no at all in any one of the minds. "The will not be detected."
"... and that nobody knows, George, or suspects, that you got your Lens."
"I am sure of that." Olmstead laughed quietly. "Also, nobody us and your that I am here. For a good many years I have a of that of thing. Photos, fingerprints, and so on have all been taken of."
"Good. I can not work here," Samms what all to be the truth. "Dronvire is a much analyst-synthesist than I am; as soon as any is possible he will know it. We have learned that the Towne-Morgan crowd, Mackenzie Power, Ossmen Industries, and Interstellar Spaceways are all in together, and that is involved, but we have not been able to any further. There is a correlation—barely significant—between deaths from and the in the Solarian System of Spaceways liners. The that officials of the Earth-Screen Service have been and are more than they earn sets up a but that they are space-ships or from space-ships to land illegally. These contraband, which may or may not be thionite. In short, we data in every department, and it is high time for me to doing my in it."
"I don't check you, Virge." None of the Kinnisons did give up without a struggle. "Olmstead is a worker, and you are our coordinator. Why not let him keep up the counter-espionage—do the job you were on doing yourself—and you here and it?"
"I have of that, a great deal, and have...."
"Because Olmstead can not do it," a mind cut in, decisively. "I, Rularion of North Polar Jupiter, say so. There are involved. The ability to and to the of a situation; the ability to make without hesitation; as well as many others not as to statement, but which be called power of mind. How say you, Bergenholm of Tellus? For I have in you a mind in some respects the and of my own." This was, to the Jovian, a of an truth, and Bergenholm it as such.
"I agree. Olmstead not succeed."
"Well, then, can Samms?" Kinnison demanded.
"Who knows?" came Bergenholm's shrug, and simultaneously:
"Nobody I can or not, but I am going to try," and Samms ended—almost—the by Bergenholm and a of other Lensmen to come into his office and by taking off his Lens.
"And that's another thing I don't like." Kinnison offered one last objection. "Without your Lens, anything can to you."
"Oh, I won't have to be without it very long. And besides, Virgilia isn't the only one in the Samms family who can work better—sometimes—without a Lens."
The Lensmen came in and, in a time, out. A minutes later, two Lensmen out of Samms' office into the one.
"Good-bye, George," the red-headed man said aloud, "and good luck."
"Same to you, Chief," and the brown-haired one out.
Norma the was a girl, and observant. In her position, she had to be. Her the man out, then the Lensman from toe to crown.
"I've anything like it, Mr. Samms," she then. "Except for the in coloring, and a of ... well, ... he be your twin. You two must have had a common ancestor—or several—not too back, didn't you?"
"We did. Quadruple second cousins, you might call it. We have of each other for years, but this is the time we have met."
"Quadruple second cousins? What that mean? How come?"
"Well, say that once upon a time there were two men named Albert and Chester...."
"What? Not two Irishmen named Pat and Mike? You're slipping, boss." The girl roguishly. During hours she was always the fast, cool, secretary, but in moments of such as this was the thing in the First Lensman's private office. "Not at all up to your form."
"Merely I am speaking now as a genealogist, not as a raconteur. But to continue, we will say that Chester and Albert had four children apiece, two boys and two girls, two of twins, each. And when they up—half way up, that is...."
"Don't tell me that we are going to that all those married each other?"
"Exactly. Why not?"
"Well, it would be the laws of all out of shape. But go ahead—I can see what's coming, I think."
"Each of those had one, and only one, child. We will call those children Jim Samms and Sally Olmstead; John Olmstead and Irene Samms."
The girl's disappeared. "James Alexander Samms and Sarah Olmstead Samms. Your parents. I didn't see what was coming, after all. This George Olmstead; then, is your...."
"Whatever it is, yes. I can't name it, either—maybe you had call Genealogy some day and out. But it's no wonder we look alike. And there are three of us, not two—George has an brother."
The red-haired Lensman into the office, the door, and Lensed a at Virgil Samms.
"It worked, Virgil! I talked to her for five solid minutes, on her desk, and she didn't tumble! And if this of Bergenholm's her so completely, the job he did on you would anybody!"
"Fine! I've done a little myself, on the men I know, without a of so far."
His last resolved, Samms the ponderous, radiation-proof, neutron-proof shuttle-scow which was the only possible means of entering or the Hill. A fast him to Nampa, where Olmstead's "accidentally" transport was being repaired, and from which city Olmstead had been gone so that no one had missed him. He Olmstead's space; he the of Olmstead's ticket. He New York. He took a 'copter to Senator Morgan's office. He was into the private office of Herkimer Herkimer Third.
"Olmstead. Of Alphacent."
"Yes?" Herkimer's hand moved, so little, upon his desk's top.
"Here." The Lensman an upon the in such fashion that it came to an of the hand.
"Prints. Here." Samms prints. "Wash your hands, over there." Herkimer pressed a button. "Check all these prints, against each other and the files. Check the two of the sheet, to fiber." He to the Lensless Lensman, now his desk. "Routine; a formality, in your case, but necessary."
"Of course."
Then for long the two hard men into the hard of each other's eyes.
"You may do, Olmstead. We have had very good reports of you. But you have been in thionite?"
"No. I have any."
"What do you want to into it for?"
"Your me out; what did they tell you? The thing—promotion from the ranks into the brass—to to where I can do myself and the organization some good."
"Yourself first, the organization second?"
"What else? Why should I be different from the of you?"
This time the locked longer; one pair smoldering, the other gold-flecked, ice.
"Why, indeed?" Herkimer thinly. "We do not it, however."
"Outside, I wouldn't, either; but here I'm my cards on the table."
"I see. You will do, Olmstead, if you live. There's a test, you know."
"They told me there would be."
"Well, aren't you to know what it is?"
"Not particularly. You passed it, didn't you?"
"What do you by that crack?" Herkimer to his feet; his eyes, before, now ablaze.
"Exactly what I said, no more and no less. You may read into it anything you please." Samms' voice was as cold as were his eyes. "You me out of what I am. Did you think that moving would make a boot-licker out of me?"
"Not at all." Herkimer sat and took from a two small, transparent, capsule-like tubes, each a of dust. "You know what this is?"
"I can guess."
"Each of these is a good, jolt; about all that a man with a can stand. Sit down. Here is one dose. Pull the cover, the up one nostril, the ejector, and sniff. If you can this other here on the you will live, and thus pass the test. If you can't, you die."
Samms sat, and pulled, and squeezed, and sniffed.
His the with a thud. His hands themselves into fists, the tight-stretched out. His white. His themselves shut; his jaw-muscles into and as they his teeth hard together. Every in his into a as as that of death itself. His pounded; his stertorous.
This was the "muscle-lock" so of thionite; the of the of every desire.
The Galactic Patrol for him an actuality; a for good all the worlds of all the of all the of all space-time continual. He what the Lens was, and why. He time and space. He the and the end.
He also saw and did over which it is best to a veil, for every desire—mental or physical, open or suppressed, or base—that Virgil Samms had had was being satisfied. EVERY DESIRE.
As Samms sat there, upon the of death through ecstasy, a door opened and Senator Morgan entered the room. Herkimer started, almost imperceptibly, as he turned—had there been, or not, an instantaneously-suppressed of in those now clear and eyes?
"Hi, Chief; come in and down. Glad to see you—this is not my idea of fun."
"No? When did you stop being a sadist?" The sat his minion's desk, the of his left hand to drum. "You wouldn't have, by any chance, been the idea of...?" He paused significantly.
"What an idea." Herkimer's act—if it was an act—was flawless. "He's too good a man to waste."
"I know it, but you didn't act as though you did. I've you come out such a second in an ... and it wasn't you didn't know to start with just what of a tiger he was—that's why he was for this job. And it would have been so easy to give him just a more."
"That's preposterous, Chief, and you know it."
"Do I? However, it couldn't have been jealousy, he isn't being for your job. He won't be over you, and there's of room for everybody. What was the matter? Your wouldn't have taken you that far, under these circumstances. Come clean, Herkimer."
"Okay—I the whole family!" Herkimer out, viciously.
"I see. That up." Morgan's cleared, his motionless. "You can't make the Samms and aren't in position to skin her alive, so you to all her relatives. That up, but let me tell you something." His quiet, level voice more of than most men's threats. "Keep your love life out of and keep that under control. Don't let anything like this again."
"I won't, Chief. I got off the beam—but he me so mad!"
"Certainly. That's what he was trying to do. Elementary. If he make you look small it would make him look big, and he just about did. But watch now, he's to."
Samms' relaxed. He opened his groggily; then, as a of over his consciousness, he closed them again and shuddered. He had always himself much of a man; how he possibly have to such of depravity, of turpitude, of degradation? And yet every of his being was its for more; his mind and his were permeated by an over-mastering to again the which they had so tremendously, so enjoyed.
There was another good right there on the in of him, though thionite-sniffers always saw to it that no more of the be without physical exertion; which would them to their senses. If he took that it would kill him. What of it? What was death? What good was life, to such as he had just had and was about to have again? And besides, couldn't kill him. He was a super-man; he had just proved it!
He up and for the capsule; and that effort, small as it was, was to First Lensman Virgil Samms under control. The craving, however, did not decrease. Rather, it increased.
Months were to pass he think of thionite, or of the color purple, without a of the and a of every muscle. Years were to pass he forget, partially, the in the dark of his own mind. Nevertheless, from the store of it was that him what he was, Virgil Samms strength. Thumb and touched the capsule, but of it up, he pushed it across the toward Herkimer.
"Put it away, bub. One of that will last me for life." He at the secretary, then to Morgan and nodded. "After all, he did not say that he passed this or any other test. He just didn't me when I said it."
With a visible Herkimer silent, but Morgan did not.
"You talk too much, Olmstead. Can you up yet?"
Gripping the with hands, Samms himself to his feet. The room was and gyrating; every thing in it was moving in a different and orbit; his already more and more to a bomb; black and white and vari-colored his of vision. He one hand free, then the other—and into the chair.
"Not yet—quite," he admitted, through lips.
Although he was not to it, Morgan was amazed—not that the man had collapsed, but that he had been able so soon to himself an inch. "Tiger" was not the word; this Olmstead must be seven-eighths dinosaur.
"It takes a minutes; longer for some, not so long for others," Morgan said, blandly. "But what makes you think Herkimer here took one of the same?"
"Huh?" Again two of locked and held; and this time the was longer and more pregnant. "What do you think? How do you I to as old as I am now? By being dumb?"
Morgan a Venerian cigar, settled it his teeth, it, and three slow replying.
"Ah, a student. An mind," he said, evenly, and—apparently—irrelevantly. "Let's Herkimer for the moment. Try your hand on me."
"Why not? From what we out in the field, you have always been in the upper brackets, so you had to prove that you take it or let it alone. My would be, though, that you could."
"The good old oil, eh?" Morgan allowed his and voice to register a modicum, metered, of contempt. "How to along in the world; Lesson One: Butter up the Boss."
"Nice try, Senator, but I'll have to score you a clean miss." Samms, now almost to normal, companionably. "We know that if I were still in the I wouldn't be here now."
"I'll let that one pass—this time." Under that look and Morgan's were to cringe, but this Olmstead was not the type. "Don't do it again. It might not be safe."
"Oh, it would be safe enough—for today, at least. There are two which you are very ignoring. First, I haven't the job yet."
"Are you to think you'll out of this alive if I don't accept you?"
"If you want to call it innocence, yes. Oh, I know you've got all over the place, but they don't a thing."
"No?" Morgan's voice was venomous.
"No." Olmstead was unimpressed. "Put in my place. You know I've been around a long time; and not just around my mother. I was a number of years ago."
"I see. You don't a damn. A point. And you are me, just as I am you. Another point. I'm to like you, George. I think I know what your second point is, but let's have it, just for the record."
"I'm sure you do. Any man, to be my boss, has got to be at least as good a man as I am. Otherwise I take his job away from him."
"Fair enough. By God, I do like you, Olmstead!" Morgan, his big in smiles, got up, over, and hands vigorously; and Samms, as he would, not a as to how much—if any—of this was real. "Do you want the job? And when can you go to work?"
"Yes, sir. Two hours ago, sir."
"That's fine!" Morgan boomed. Although he did not upon it, he noticed and the in the of address. "Without what the job is or how much it pays?"
"Neither is important, sir, at the moment." Samms, who had got up easily to shake hands, now his experimentally. Nothing rattled. Good—he was in good shape already. "As to the job, I can either do it or out why it can't be done. As to pay, I've you called a of things, but 'piker' was one of them."
"Very well. I that you will go far." Morgan again the Lensman's hand; and again Samms not the Senator's sincerity. "Tuesday afternoon. New York Spaceport. Space-ship Virgin Queen. Report to Captain Willoughby in the office at fourteen hundred hours. Stop at the cashier's office on your way out. Good-bye."
