"During the next twenty years, psiontists determined that everyone who sighted a genuine unidentifiable flying object was, to a greater or less degree, psionic; and three completely authenticated sightings occurred during three very severe Xtype storms. Continued study confirmed the conclusion that Type X storms were caused by something occurring in the fourth dimension.

"Psiontists informed the authorities of their findings; but they were ignored. Nonpsionicists believed, then as now, that all psionics was fakery, imagination, and crackpotism; that what actuality, if any, it had was witchcraft and black magic and must be stamped out wherever and whenever found. However, the terribly disruptive Type X storms continued to increase and the Council of Science could not even touch the real problem. So, finally, in sheer desperation, our Grand Justice-Supreme Grand Justice Sonrathendak Ranjak of Slaar, you know; he was a young man then and able to think a little gave my father a status rating of Forty-Seven, a grudging go ahead, and a small appropriation to found an 'Inst.i.tute for Advanced Study.' When my father died, I took over, and we kept on working. Surrept.i.tiously, until now, when I'm adding you new members to our staff." Rodnar's face darkened, his thoughts turned bitter.

"And that's what we still are. No hint whatever; ever; of our real abilities or of what we can do and should be doing, or we feed the eagles. If the d.a.m.ned old fathead glumpfs would only." "Damp it down, Rod!" Manjyl broke in.

"If just one bit of that squampf ever gets out you'll certainly be eaglemeat."

"Not a chance, Marr." The man's sober mien lightened.

"I'm awake. They're too stupid-no, not stupid; impervious. And if, some day, one of the meatheads does get a sudden rush of intelligence to the brain and sets their d.a.m.ned Purps on us, I'll see to it that nonmagnetic storms blow all their transistors out of all the rigs they can set up. Okay."

"Okay."

"To get on with it, our results to date have been veree ungood. We finally a.n.a.lyzed the stuff-it's a new type of energy, originating in the fourth dimension and completely unknown to any planet of explored s.p.a.ce-and we've built counter-generators-generators of a force to neutralize it. However, to put it mildly, s.p.a.ce is big; subs.p.a.ce is bigger, and we don't know much of anything about the fourth dimension. So, while we have managed to destroy a few of the generators of X-storms, we don't average one in two years and no wreckage has ever been found.

"Now. The Justices don't like us; the Grand Justices especially. They don't want to believe in psionics at all; and, to the extent that they're forced to, they're afraid of us. And jealousof anything we may have that they haven't got. So, Admittedly we haven't done much; but n.o.body else has done anything at all. The Council of Science tried to write off our successes as due purely to chance, but their statisticians couldn't get anywhere with that. Hence, for that and certain other reasons, we're here-along with some not-too-subtle hints that if I don't produce I'll be considered an ex-citizen and eaglemeat.

"That hits the high spots to date. Now. I know that the energy originates in the fourth dimension. I think that it is not a natural phenomenon, but is a product of parascience- psionics-and of technology. I infer that it is produced by generators designed and built by a race of highly intelligent ent.i.ties, at least some of whom are psiontists. Not ordinary psychics or mystics, but highly-skilled, highly-trained psiontists; experts of at least our own grade. I deduce that there exists, somewhere, hitherto completely unsuspected, such a race. I conclude nothing, as yet. I request full and frank opinions from all of you. Sonjormel Wayrec of Garsh, you seem anxious to be heard; over to you." Wayrec-a burly, black-haired, reddish-brown skinned, hawknosed man of thirty, the only Garshan in the Inst.i.tutecame in without a moment's pause.

"You have of course considered the point as to whether or not these X-storms are deliberately inimical."

"I have. They may be. They may, much more probably, be accidental. Incidental, rather; a by-product of the normal activities of this postulated race."

"It is my considered opinion that X-storms are both deliberate and inimical. That there is such a race; a race that is studying us and hara.s.sing us. That, whenever they are ready to act, our communications will be blanketed continuously and they will attack us."

"Nonsense!" snapped a big, ma.s.sive, almost-black woman, Daughtlanarr Monarr of Tsalk.

"I believe firmly that X-storms are purely natural phenomena; just as natural as magnetic storms but we don't know yet what causes them. Your inference, Rodnar; is based largely upon the fact that such storms are increasing in number. You are ignoring the overriding fact that all nature waxes and wanes, in one way or another. And Wayrec, your thinking is altogether too deeply colored by your heredity and environment of ceaseless warfare. You are extrapolating from an indefensible a.s.sumption to utterly indefensible conclusions. Knuaire, what is your."

"Hold up!" the Garshan snapped, his dark, proud face hard set.

"As a mysto-pacifist, Monarr, who does not wear a knife, you should not insult a whole man. An apology is in order."

"You hold up, Wayrec," Rodnar said crisply, before the black woman could say a word.

"I asked for full and frank opinions. Censored, p.u.s.s.y-footing opinions are valueless. Therefore, the insult, if any, was mine. I wear a knife and I am at your service...

"Hold up, both of you!" Knuaire drove the thought.

"Rod, are you conducting a forum or a games? Wayrec, did you come here to learn something or to pick a fight."

"You've got a point there, Knu, at that." Rodnar grinned sheepishly at the Spathian; then went on, "I apologize, Wayrec, especially since I'm a semipro bladesman; and I apologize to all of you for conduct unbecoming a presiding officer. Wayrec, you still have the floor."

"The error was mine," the Garshan admitted stiffly, carefully concealing the fury that raged within.

"I gave my opinion. I will add only that my mind is open to facts and to sound reasonings, but not to sentimental vaporings and mystic denials of reality. Over to you, Theoretician First Songladen Knuaire of Spath."

"While I am not convinced that such a race does in fact exist," Knuaire said, "I am willing to postulate, as a firstapproximation working hypothesis, that it does. We have explored only a minute fraction of one galaxy, and it is probable that all the planets of all the galaxies are mutually accessible through the fourth dimension. Thus, without introducing any additional unknowns, almost anything is possible; but idle speculation is not productive. We should, I think, concentrate on X-storms and how to abate them-'how' is much more important at the moment than 'who."' "Check," Marrjyl agreed, "if we want to keep on living." The meeting settled down to solid study. They had built twelve counter-generators. They were kept out in subs.p.a.ce, powered and ready, but the few successes that had been achieved in aborting X-storms had been due largely to luck. The trouble was that the storms moved altogether too fast; they did their damage and disappeared before the defending installations could get within range.

"You said 'moved too fast,' Knu," Rodnar said.

"Is there an implication that the cause may be the mere pa.s.sing of a postulated vehicle? That perhaps something in its operation may inadvertently create our problem."

"Unlikely as it may sound, it's a possibility that must be considered. The fact that our own operation does not interfere with communications does not preclude the possibility of others doing so. That line of thought should be followed up." Rodnar nodded.

"It should. Marrjyl and I will follow it. Since Orm and Slaar have had more X-storms of late than other planets, we're in the best position to do the job." Work went on for hours; until, long after suppertime, the first courses of action had been roughed out. They all had supper en ma.s.se, harnessed up (no one ever teleported if any nonpsi could possibly catch him at it), and sped through the air to a nearby s.p.a.ceport, where they slotted the claim tokens for their subspeedsters. Eighteen of them lined out for their home planets. Rodnar went to a point in s.p.a.ce about one-third of the way from Slaar to the planet Orm, to cover one of the locations where X- storms had seemed most frequently to originate. Marrjyl, who as a top-flight designer had been involved with Knuaire in the production of the counter-generators, went with him; and shortly thereafter Knu 'ported aboard. With Knuaire's entry, Marrjyl exclaimed fervently, "I can't stand that Wayrec! I don't trust him one kinto's worth. He may be-no, he is-a strong psiontist, but he has only one interest-Garsh."

"Let's not be influenced by his bad manners," Knuaire commented.

"He can't help being a Garshan." Days pa.s.sed, during which the three spent a lot of money. Other psiontists came, in other subs.p.a.ce speedsters. Huge s.p.a.ce-going machine-shops came, carrying hundreds of mechanics. Weirdly-wired, terrifically-powered devices were planted, in a carefully-computed four-dimensional pattern, throughout all "nearby" subs.p.a.ce-some of them, of course, being many pa.r.s.ecs away in normal s.p.a.ce.

"But suppose it is intelligent beings who are making these X-storms without even knowing it?" Marrjyl demanded one day.

"Beings who don't know anything about us any more than we know about them? Don't even know we're here? We shouldn't kill intelligent creatures, no matter how monstrous they are, just because they're using this sector of the fourth dimension. We don't own all subs.p.a.ce, Rod; you know we don't."

"Of course we don't; but listen, Marr. First, I don't believe that X-storms are or can be caused by subs.p.a.cers. Not only Knu, but a dozen others of the best mathematicians alive, with our biggest computers, have been working on it; and every answer comes out N hyphen O dash in capital letters. They can't find any theoretical basis whatever for a drive that can possibly make the stuff. Second, if you stretch your imagination enough to imagine intelligent life completely unknown to us.

"That's not much of a stretch, and you know it."

"Of itself, no; but there's a terrific snapper. No matter where they live-with so many of them flitting around for so long a time, some of them-certainly the ones we wrecked-would have normalized close enough to us to have been detected. Nothing ever has; not even a bit of wreckage. Play that on your piccolo, Mare" The girl caught her lower lip between her teeth.

"Maybe some things have been seen... some of those nonpsi sightings, you know... no, too vague, nothing tangible - typical crackpot stuff." She pondered, then cried triumphantly, "But there could be a type that lives in subs.p.a.ce."

"Oh, poppyc.o.c.k!" he snorted.

"How far out into the wild blue can you go? If so, they'd be incomprehensible by definition. Anyway, our generators are not designed to kill anything. They don't generate death-rays. You know what the stuff is as well as I do."

"I know; but there's still the possibility of it making their drives backfire and kill everybody aboard."

"Oh, for the love of... cut it, Man Get conscious and get with it."

"I am with it!" she insisted.

"Making that a.s.sumption, the very least it would do would be to..." She broke off and scowled in concentration, then went on, "Uh-uh. a.s.sumption untenable. Matter remains in subs.p.a.ce only under impressed force, so it would emerge... and nothing ever has... but listen, Rod!" She stopped short; her eyes widened.

"If not in our s.p.a.ce and not in subs.p.a.ce-what other s.p.a.ce can there Marrjyl of Orm was the first ent.i.ty to have any inkling of the truth, but she was neither willing nor able to support her theorizing against even mild opposition-and Rodnar's opposition was anything but mild.

"Oh, stop blowing your nozzles and land somewhere," he exclaimed.

"And think of this. The most we'll be doing to them isn't a patch to the least those X-storms are doing to us. Disruption of communications, business, time, money, tens of thousands of very expensive com units and instruments. Don't be a weeper, Marr, especially since I am and you ought to be pulling full weight with the Law on this project. Not only to keep from being eaglemeat. either; this is the first chance we've ever had and the best one we ever will have to ram psionics down the d.a.m.ned old glumpfs' fat throats."

"On that you're clicking," she agreed.

"Put that way, this kind of theorizing goes down the cliff, we're certainly more important to us than any purely hypothetical ent.i.ties can be," and nothing more was said about alien ent.i.ties, intelligent or otherwise. s.p.a.ce is unimaginably vast. Also, by the very nature of things, subs.p.a.ce is incomprehensibly larger than is mere s.p.a.ce. And one of the peculiarities of subs.p.a.ce is that no two subs.p.a.cers leaving the same place for the same destination ever do or ever can take the same "course" unless they immerge at exactly the same time-at exactly the same time, to within an immeasurably infinitesimal fraction of a nanosecond. Thus Rodnar and Marrjyl did not find any subs.p.a.ce traffic lanes, there were none to find. And thus their generators did not abort any X-storms-then. And it was just as well for the peace of mind of all the humanity of the ninety-six planets of Tellurian civilization that it was the mighty Explorer, and not one or a succession of InStell's pa.s.senger liners, that eventually put those highly capable defenses of Slaar and Orm to the test.

4 - THE ADAMS FUSION.

Alone in his office aboard the super Starship Explorer, the Leybyrdite monster which MetEnge and DesDes had built in partnership, Doctor Andrew Adams paced restlessly, a frown of complete concentration on his long, lean face. He seemed to glide across the heavy pile of the floor, oblivious to the comfortable furnishings, the necessary electronic equipment, his tall, lithe, gray-clad form avoiding them by instinct. His wife, Stella, had left the room quite a while ago, sensing his need to be alone. Adams was annoyed-annoyed with himself. He ran one hand through his thick gray hair. Time and again he had considered his problem and always without result, always concluding that the solution was beyond him. And inevitably he had returned to the question that had to have an answer. What-no, who-was behind the psionic explosion that in an incredibly short time had opened vistas of knowledge, produced powers of accomplishment that normally should have taken decades? He thought of his own development-his and Stella's, rather, since what they had done had been accomplished through their mutual efforts. Of course he had a good mind to start with-but of psionic ability there wasn't a trace. The same must be said of Stella. The Destons had given them their first real insight into telepathy, and, through it, their first inkling of the universe of psionics. That had been less than a year agoand through their studies of metaphysics, paraphysics, occultism. and every other kind of esoterica; through telepathic consultation with sages in India and China, Tibet and Central America and everywhere else where a germ of truth might be gleaned, they had made of themselves psiontists of extraordinary ability. Was it logical? It was not! It was entirely too much of a lifting by one's bootstraps. He thought again of the list he had once compiled, eighteen coincidences. Impossible! There had to be an Operator-with a capital O. At first thought it would seem to be Barbara Deston, for she had been an oil-witch with extraordinary powers before any of the rest of them had manifested any psionic abilities beyond the simple matter of hunches that worked. But he didn't believe it was Barbara. No-and again he was back to the idea which in earlier go-arounds had brought him up against a stone wall. It must be some power completely outside their knowledge and a.s.sociation. A puppeteer pulling strings! a.s.suming this were so, why? Altruism? The bettering of the human race? Certainly this was being accomplished through the opening of the universe in a manner never dreamed of before. But that was a most unsatisfactory motive. Something, someone playing G.o.d. Adams scowled. If this were so, how could he-or it - possibly be detected? Why try? Because he had to know! But how? Where to begin? He'd gone over all this before. Well, it didn't promise any tremendous revelation, but there was one thing he hadn't done before-a study of the six top psiontists, all of whom were aboard the Explorer. Perhaps a hint, the mark of the Operator. He sent a thought to Stella, in the great lounge in conversation with Bernice Jones and Cecily Train. Quietly she excused herself and joined Adams in their quarters, where in flashing thoughts he apprised her of his thinking and what he planned. Stella's response was slow in coming.

"But, Andy, I don't like the idea of secretly examining-probing-the minds of our friends. But if we ask them we'll be."

"Putting them on their guard? All the better, my dear. An area guarded might be just what we're seeking." Her objection vanished, and he sent a thought to the six psiontists.

"Pardon this intrusion, please. I've been thinking... He ignored Deston's barely suppressed, "Andy, what a surprise!"

"I've been thinking again about some of the problems of psionics; and I've arrived at a need to study your minds individually and in the aggregate. Stella and I in fusion will do the investigating. May we have your permission." Though they were surprised, all six gave immediate consent, Deston speaking for the group, "Of course, Doc, if you think there's something to be gained we'll be glad to cooperate. Any suggestions."

"Just that you be yourselves. Go about whatever you're doing. I should not have to tell you that we won't be prying. Our study will be confined to the functioning of the mind, the upper levels of cerebration, Campbell's Fourth Nume, if you will. You should not be aware of any intrusion." He added apologetically, "Believe me, we don't like this any more than you do and if I didn't consider it necessary I wouldn't be suggesting it." Unanimous rea.s.surances came, and Adams withdrew. Stella and Andrew Adams faced each other, holding hands tightly across a small table, eyes meeting unwinkingly. Their minds merged in an indescribable fusion, functioning as one. Barbara Deston. In perfect visualization they sensed the trim, five-foot-three, yellow-haired oil "dowser" who as Barbara Warner had found oil wells for WarnOil throughout the ninety-six planets. The Barbara whose nickname had progressed from Barbry through Barby to the dynamo they affectionately called Bobby. The physical Barbara vanished in the personality-a woman who on the one hand was warm, empathetic, loving; and on the other a coldly driving, rigidly direct force that moved unswervingly toward any predetermined objective. A blending of opposites that in Barbara did not seem contradictory. But all of this was surface inspection, a foundation for the probing that followed. Concerning the Adams's study of Barbara's and the others' minds little can be said. What they actually did cannot be told in ordinary words or any symbology except that of the psiontist. The sifting, the penetrating, the delving into one mind by another lies beyond description. Yet when their study of Barbara ended, the Adams fusion realized that though they had greatly widened the scope of their own thinking, they had made no advance toward their primary aim-the Operator. Certainly she had the ability to help in the psionic development of other minds-had done so-had developed for herself abilities in every phase of psionics-but there was no indication of the super-psiontist they were seeking. Even as they withdrew, certain that their invasion had not been detected, they were aware of one very strong impression. There were depths in the intellect they had studied which defied their most penetrating probe-not the impression of a strongly held mind block, but limitations in their own powers. Carlyle Deston, Carl or Babe to the others. Short for a s.p.a.ceman, stocky, whose only psionic manifestations before he met Barbara Warner were hunches that never failed. Bobby, sensing his latent psionic abilities, helped him develop the power to detect metals and communicate telepathically, as well as the powers of precognition and telekinetics. They probed. A highly intelligent, well-balanced mind with additional psi powers still latent, still in need of greater development. Again they learned more about mental functioning, but that was all. Theodore "Hercules" Jones, Captain of the Explorer. Like Deston, given to hunches. A big, powerful man, the source of his nickname-Here to the others-highly efficient in his field, a strong member of the psionic team, but certainly not the Operator. His wife, formerly Bernice "Bun" Burns, a tall, svelte platinum blonde, the most sensitive psychic of the group, with a range of perception that was truly incredible. Other psionic abilities that now had to be considered normal; nothing more. Equally disappointing were Cecily and Percival Train. Redheaded, freckled Cecily, who had been a top-level engineer, a powerhouse. Perce Train almost as big as Here Jones, and a power on his own.

The Adams coupling found the usual psionic abilities, with the parakinetic strengths intensified to an unbelievable degree. They were power personified. They were the movers-they the pair who alone could 'port the great ma.s.s of the Explorer with precision and ease that was near miraculous. In addition they possessed an affinity for each other that enabled them to achieve a fusion unmatched even by that of Andrew and Stella Adams. But the Operator? Negative. Marks of manipulation? None that they could discern. Beside the negative findings concerning the Operator, the Adams fusion had learned-rather confirmedtwo facts. All six psiontists had in varying degrees all the psi powers telepathy, precognition, teleportation, telekinetics, levitation, clairvoyance, clairaudience-in some of them, more highly developed than in others. And he and Stella of course were adepts in all. Only the Destons, strangely, were "dowsers." In addition, no mind alone had the power, the completeness, the unity that the couples in combination possessed. In the full meaning of the term, each was the complement of his or her mate, especially in things psionic. Adams thought of the two children-Theodore Warner Deston and Barbara Bernice Jones, Teddy and Babbsy-and the fusion sensed them vividly-two romping toddlers among a dozen others in the fairyland playroom designed by Bobby and Bun. Adams had observed them in a technical fashion from conception in the zeta field in subs.p.a.ce; it was he who had brought them to light after a fourteen-month gestation period; his medical skill that had examined them in every possible way during their growth to this moment. A lovely and delightful boy and girl, normal and healthy, mentally precocious, bright and alert, but not uniquely so. The fusion touched their minds-and shockingly they were blocked! Startled, with all the strength and skill they had developed through endless hours of concentrated study, they drove with fused power-and bounced! No penetration whatever Then in a time so immeasurably brief that afterward neither Andrew nor Stella Adams could be certain that they had really sensed what they thought had touched their minds-a flash of intellect with breadth and power and scope beyond anything they had ever encountered. It was the mere hint of a glimpse gone instantly-and it was followed by something so unexpected, so inexplicable and alien that it left them momentarily numbed. They seemed to be looking into a large office, garish and brilliantly colorful in its opulence. The walls were an exquisitely wrought pictorial mosaic, a continuous scene that completely encircled the windowless chamber, even the single door continuing the design. Colors were harshly vivid, the subject gory and violent, what appeared to be a great arena, the banked seats filled with red-brown men and women with cruel mouths and great hooked noses, their scant apparel brightly colorful. In the arena was a melange of seminaked, knife- wielding duelists, of great taloned birds of prey tearing light-skinned human victims to bits with great, rending beaks. There were two men in the room, standing facing a great contour desk, its top also a garish gemmed mosaic. Both were of the same race as the spectators in the wall scene, with enough gold chains and bars and jewels on what were evidently uniforms to indicate high rank indeed. And both were manifestly obsequious, almost cringing. At that instant the fusion realized that they were viewing the scene through the eyes of a third personality behind the desk- and that being was intoning in a voice of venomous, savage power.

"Make your plans with only one thought-one purpose and never lose sight of it. There is no room anywhere-not in this System, not in this galaxy, not in the total universe, for any race of power except ours! Except for the necessary slaves, none can be permitted to live. This is our destiny-and Great Day is rapidly approaching. Plan well-make no mistakes but take no action until I give the command." There followed the barest touch of a mind of savage arrogance, of fierce pride, of ruthless drive-alien, inhuman. Then nothing! Stella and Andrew Adams found themselves staring into each other's eyes like suddenly awakened sleepwalkers, their hands limp. It was one of those very rare moments when the thoughts of the imperturbable Dr. Adams were disordered and confused. In moments, almost by instinct, he touched the minds of the two children-and found them as they had always been-unusually intelligent, showing tremendous latent psychic powers-but only a little boy and girl. Frowning, Adams stared intently at his wife, then spoke aloud.

"Stella-what did we see."

"I-don't-know! It would seem we caught a glimpse of a mind beyond any we ever touched-at the moment we were trying to probe Teddy and Babbsy-but that can't be. Then for a moment we saw what they-or the ent.i.ty whatever its nature-observed-but I just can't believe it." Adams's eyes narrowed and his head sank forward, his chin resting on one tight fist.

"Or we sensed what something or someone wanted us to see." Complete silence followed as Stella and Andrew Adams, with utmost concentration, considered what had happened. Minutes pa.s.sed unheeded while every nuance of thought, every detail of what they had sensed from the beginning of their experiment was subjected to closest scrutiny by the keenest, most penetrant mind of that age, reinforced by an intelligence that was complementary and in its own individual way little less able than Adams's own. How long they were immersed in their appraisal they had no way of knowing. During part of those minutes of thought Adams found himself reverting to concept after concept that had occupied his mind for days on end. They crystallized. s.p.a.ce having four dimensions. Psiontists working through that fourth dimension. Subs.p.a.ce itself-why not many s.p.a.ces existing in subs.p.a.ce? Perhaps an infinite number of s.p.a.ces with subs.p.a.ce a separating yet a containing medium? He groped for an a.n.a.logy-found none. But the staggering thought seemed strangely logical. Finally Adams spoke.

"Of that supermind little can be said. Certainly we haven't enough data to arrive at any conclusion though I believe more firmly than ever that there must be an Operator. Ident.i.ty? Impossible to say. We were blocked out of the minds of the children-but there is no proof that theirs was the screen. That scene we saw seemed to be revealed through the eyes of an ent.i.ty behind that desk-but if that were so why did we see the setting in such great detail? Illogical to think that the individual who spoke would have been looking about the room. So I lean toward the view that we saw what we were supposed to see. Why? No data. But I'm certain we did not stumble upon something that was supposed to remain unknown. There was a reason for our seeing what we saw. What reason? Again, no data." His expression grew somber, and an intense, distant look came into his eyes.

"There is one more thing we should try. We have a thought-pattern of that being behind the desk. I know there's little hope of success-it actually is absurd-but let's try to find that ent.i.ty." At Stella's instant a.s.sent they joined hands, locked eyes, and their coupled minds roamed cosmic s.p.a.ce, open for a particular thought matrix. They had never attempted anything like this before, and it was a staggering experience. Alone in vacuity. As world followed world, a flood of thought, a cosmic hubbub, smote their senses-like the prayers of humanity rising to the ears of G.o.d. On and on endlessly-but never that specific mind, nor any akin to it. Finally they desisted, slowly coming out of a black emptiness that was yet filled with thought, again aware of the solidity of four walls. Ruefully Adams smiled at his wife, then drew a deep breath.

"Quite an experience, though obviously doomed to failure. I actually knew better." A pause, then he said, "I see you agree that for the present we should say nothing about all this. But we'd better call the others." Six minds found themselves in full telepathic communication with Andrew and Stella Adams; and Adams said.

"I thank you, friends, for your cooperation. By studying your minds and with your help I have been able to open my own mind and Stella's to a larger segment of reality; finding that reality is much simpler, and yet at the same time far more complex, than I had supposed.

"I theorize that there may be an infinite number of s.p.a.ces in subs.p.a.ce, but at the moment this is not subject to mathematical or any other kind of proof. It is probable that what we do, when we traverse what we call subs.p.a.ce, is move through the actual fourth physical dimension of s.p.a.ce. A rigorous a.n.a.lysis of the zeta field shows"-here he poured into the linked minds a long succession of equations so abstruse as to be meaningless to all." that there must in fact be at least one other three-dimensional s.p.a.ce coexistent with ours; imperceptible to us because no one of their three dimensions coincides with one of ours. The fourth dimension is common to both and is of course perpendicular to all three of both..."

"But, listen, Doc!" Deston protested.

"In that case." "They must be coincident, or at least parallel? By no means. That aspect of reality is a little difficult to grasp, but the equations explain the phenomenon perfectly. With a common fourth dimension, their time rate is of course the same as ours. Their time vectors and parameters may be different from ours, as may also be some of the physical properties of their s.p.a.ce itself.

"The composition of the zeta field indicates that it is not a natural phenomenon, but the product of science and technology, whether intentional or inadvertent. It is therefore clear that Second s.p.a.ce contains science and technology of at least the same order of magnitude of advancement as our own."

"There must be Tellus-type planets, then," Jones said. Adams shook his head.

"Not necessarily. That much extrapolation at this point is unwarranted."

"Are you suggesting," Bernice asked, "that the subs.p.a.ce disappearances of starships have been zeta field explosions-if that's the term-caused by the close approaches in subs.p.a.ce of First and Second s.p.a.ce vehicles."

"I am postulating this as a strong possibility, the most logical a.s.sumption in the light of our present knowledge, nothing more. There are other possibilities. Perhaps instead of near-collisions of vehicles from both s.p.a.ces, our losses occur when starships inadvertently attempt to enter Second s.p.a.ce - though as I think about it, it seems highly unlikely. In short, we're guessing... A related thought. What influence might such near approaches to Second s.p.a.ce by our vehicles bring to bear on their worlds? Perhaps be briefly visible. Mere speculation, of course."

"Is it possible," Cecily inquired, "that other s.p.a.ce vehicles might perhaps unwittingly touch the... edge-if that is the proper reference-of our three-dimensional s.p.a.ce, and perhaps be momentarily visible."

"It is conceivable," Adams agreed, half smiling; "visible to one with psionic ability."

"Then that would explain UFOs," Deston said.

"That is implicit," Adams agreed, "in our a.s.sumption that psionic ability is the ability to perceive, and to work in, the fourth physical dimension of s.p.a.ce. This, however, is not to suggest that UFOs are necessarily involved in starship accidents."

"You mean-."

"It is conceivable, given our woeful lack of data, that any number of other explanations might apply; even that such impinging might originate in s.p.a.ces other than Second s.p.a.ce-a.s.suming that there are such. However, much of this is baseless speculation. I am simply suggesting that the sightings of UFOs might occur when such interspatial contacts occur. That, if this is the explanation, sightings indicate psionic powers, active or latent."

"Oh, wonderful!" Barbara exclaimed.

"Then anyone who has ever really seen a UFO would have to have been psychic."

"That follows, and that is my opinion. But of course they did not see them with their physical, optical eyes."

"How else could they..." Jones began. then broke off and went on.

"I see. Transference. Since they didn't know any other way of seeing, they had either to see them with their eyes or go nuts." Deston nodded.

"That makes sense. This whole thing is a horribly big bolus to swallow, but... what do you think, Bobby."

"It is big," Barbara agreed.

"Tremendous. But in a crazy way it carries internal evidence of being the truth. The big question isdo we or don't we'?" She was referring, of course, to the matter of exploring-or invading?-Second s.p.a.ce.

"We do," Deston said, flatly, "if for no other reason, to determine if our theorizing about subs.p.a.ce accidents is correct. And if correct, to find a way to prevent recurrences. That is, if we can figure out any possible way of crossing into Second s.p.a.ce. After all, this is not mere teleportation."

"Why, that's easy," Cecily contributed.

"Look-it'll take both Perce and me to do it, but all we have to do is rotate the ship in the common fourth dimension until its three normal axes coincide with those of the other s.p.a.ce."

"You say it's easy," Jones said, "but just what are you going to do it with'? The by-your-bootstraps-lifter they used in the old sublight drive? Run that out into the fourth dimension, Babe, and what would you have."

"I wouldn't know," Deston replied.

"Curly, can you design a Byrd-Train machine to swing as much ma.s.s as the Explorer has got? And can you teach anyone else to run a Byrd-Train after you've built it." Cecily shook her head.

"No mechanism at all. Psychokinetic energy only. Something like teleportation, except it's 'way up in the Fourth Nume."

"Fourth Level of Organization, yes." Barbara nodded.

"s.e.x and meaning. Determination and power. Both male and female elements necessary."

"And sufficient," Cecily declared.

"Perhaps." Barbara was not yet convinced.

"But all of us... no, we couldn't all synchronize closely enough; not possibly. Can you and Perce, even? And would just the two of you have enough of it."