Page:Astounding Science Fiction (1950-01).djvu/65

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being stacked in place.

He twisted suddenly, looking back at Del, staring at him, searching for the movement that had caused him to turn. He went closer.

Del seemed without life. Tredel sensed the inner struggle of the man, felt the sheer strength of the ego that had come back in time, fought now for control of a body. Tredel stretched his arm forward, touched a finger to the floor close to Del's head, realized for the first time that blood was there, had formed a small pool under the neck arch.

"Tredel . . . Tredel." The voice was weak, coming from lips that scarcely moved, while the rest of Del's face kept the stillness of death. Tredel knew Del had lost the battle to control the body, but was still, somehow, hanging on. He bent lower, listened for another sound from the lips, watched the lips so he might he helped to hear.

"Tredel . . . ask Plato, Caesar, Archimedes—Follow them?"

It took a moment. Then Tredel leaned forward.

"Del!"

Tredel's body was tingling with the shock as his mind sent out the surprise impulses. Ask those two thousand years dead for help—What could even the wise man of 1750 know of the problems of 1950? He would think in terms of men and horses and ships with oars and sails. In terms of a lamp for light and the horizon as a day's journey—

Still, with the training his father had given him—Only extensions were needed, he could make the interpolations—The present manufacturing net work could be used—Tredel breathed easier.

"Tredel—"

How could this body still be made to speak? Tredel felt as though the words were forming in his mind, and was uncertain of lip movements.

"Tredel—You're right. It would be simpler to take over . . . mind of Dictator. Understand . . . Dictator isn't human."

"I'm—This body . . . dead. Your fight now. Weapons for Guards . . . useless against Dictator. Only one thing—"

A cough, almost mental, ending in a tired, submitting sigh as even mental consciousness left. Tredel continued to kneel after knowing Del could give him no further word.

He could work to make the weapons for others to use against something not human. An organism, perhaps, a machine, a growth, a wave pattern—

Animal, vegetable or mineral?


THE END.

*****

NOT TO BE OPENED—
65