James Tiptree Jr. - Up the Walls of the World

—And next instant he is telescoped back across limitless blackness into himself, Daniel Dann, his body striking hard surfaces by the familiar dayroom wall. His head is empty. He realizes he is down on one knee. Someone is calling his name.

He gets to his feet. There seems to be a commotion back in the corridor. Kirk gallops past. “Dann! Come back here!” Noah calls again.

But Dann cannot respond, he is staring at Margaret Omali.

She is holding herself braced upright, looking at Fearing. Her mouth writhes oddly, she swallows with a croak. Fearing watches her intently.

“Hello, hello…” The voice is coming from Margaret but it isn’t like anything Dann has heard before. “Hello? Char-les, yes? Charles Ur-ban Sproul.”

Fearing suddenly gets up. For a moment Dann thinks he is going to attack her, but he only goes to the corridor door, pulls it shut, and locks it, without taking his eyes off her. The room is like a humming vacuum. Dann takes a step toward Margaret and runs into Fearing’s arm.

“Lind-say?” says the weird voice from Margaret’s throat. “Lindsay Barr? Major Drew Fear-ing, yes.” Her mouth stretches in imitation of a smile. “I respect your culture, your concern. Ah, undertow.” The voice trails off in meaningless syllables.

Fearing stands motionless, studying her as if she were a wild animal.

Margaret takes an unsteady step away from the computer, looking around the room. Her gaze fixed on Dann, and she utters what sounds like “Tivel?”

The next second she is sagging, crumpling toward the floor.

Dann lunges just in time to save her face from the teleprinter bar. Her body slides away and hits the floor beside the couch. Dann starts toward her and has his breath knocked out by a solid blow from Fearing’s elbow.

“Keep away.” The feral intensity of the voice is as shocking as the blow.

“She—Miss Omali—has a cardiovascular history,” Dann gasps. It hurts him physically to see her on the floor, alone. He pushes futilely, caught between the console and the stronger, furious man. “Let me through, Major!”

Margaret is sighing shudderingly. Her eyes open, her head lifts and falls back.

“The wind,” she says faintly.

“It’s all right, Margaret,” Dann tells her across Fearing’s shoulder. “I felt it too. You’re here.”

“The wind” she repeats. Then her hand grasps the couch and she scrambles up and sits.

Fearing is instantly in front of her.

“Who sent you here? Where did you learn those names?”

“She’s had a shock, Major, for God’s sake stop this nonsense.” Dann moves, summons authority back to his voice. But it isn’t nonsense, he has a hideous suspicion what has happened.

Loud noises are coming from behind the locked door.

“Major Fearing!” Noah’s voice shouts. “We need your transcript at once, we’ve had extraordinary results!” He pounds harder, rattles the door. “Dann! What’s the matter?”

Fearing straightens up, suddenly calm. “Stand away from her, Doctor.” The tone is deadly. Imagining weapons, Dann lets himself be backed away. Fearing goes to the door and unlocks it. His cold, pleasant voice rides over Noah’s expostulations as he hands the envelope through.

“Doctor Catledge, a matter of concern to me has come up here. I would appreciate it if you will evaluate your results in the other section of the building. The doctor must remain here. Kirk, stay with them and see that this door stays closed.”

Margaret is whispering something. “I was… away.”

“I know. It’s all right,” he whispers back.

But it’s not all right. That gibberish she uttered, those names—they were meaningful to Fearing. Some of his secrets, like last night, she read things out of his mind. And Fearing, what can he think but that she’s some sort of spy? Oh God—the crazy bastard is dangerous—

The door is closed; Fearing is surveying them thoughtfully. “Doctor, I suggest you sit down.”

Still studying Margaret, Fearing straddles the computer chair and sits down facing her, apparently perfectly at ease.

“Look, Major—

Fearing holds up his hand, smiling. He seems to have dismissed Dann from some calculation. “Miss Omali, your approach puzzled me.” His face is a mask of patient sympathy. “I believe I understand. Please be assured that we have an excellent record of protecting people who come to us. Perhaps you’d like to meet one or two, to reassure yourself? I think that could be arranged.”

She stares at him. Her control is back. “I have not one idea what you’re talking about.”

Nor has Dann—and then suddenly he sees. This maniac Fearing has decided that Margaret is, what do they call it, a defector. Trying to defect to “our side.” He thinks her ravings were an attempt to signal him by revealing knowledge. Nightmare proliferates around him. What can he do to her, lock her up? Ruin her life? But she doesn’t know anything—

“You’re crazy,” Margaret is saying remotely. Dann can sense the fear under her calm. The air is flickering with tension.

Fearing smiles charmingly. “Perhaps you are concerned about your little boy? We could have him here with you in an hour or so.”

Oh God. Dann sees the cords in her neck spring out.

“Don’t you dare touch my son.”

“Look here, Major, as this woman’s doctor I’m telling you to stop this right now. You’re on the wrong track, you—”

Fearing doesn’t look at him, but goes on contemplating Margaret as if she were an algebra problem.

“This is not the appropriate setting, perhaps,” he says patiently. “You would feel more secure away from these people.” He touches his wristwatch.

“No!” Margaret cries.

Dann plants himself in front of her. “I tell you you’re endangering her heart. If you don’t believe me, get Harris over here to check.”

Footsteps outside. Dann swings around to see a heavy-set man in fatigues at the front door.

“An excellent idea, Doctor,” Fearing says unruffledly. “Deming, put in a call for the ambulance and tell Doctor Harris to meet us.”

“No!” Margaret jumps up. “I’m not going anywhere!”

Dann is struggling with horror, the room seems brimming with fear. How can this maniac have so much power? He’s so relaxed, he’s sure we’re helpless. But not Margaret, not unless they’re prepared to shoot me— I mean that, he realizes, hearing himself say “You will not—”

The front door opens again and Kendall Kirk bursts in saying urgently, “Sir! Excuse me, sir, but you have to know this.” He halts in back of the couch, behind Margaret. “They did it. I tell you those weirdoes picked up the whole six-letter group. They can do it, they can read your mind. They’re dangerous as hell. She’s reading your mind right now.”

Dramatically he points at Margaret.

“You’re out of your mind, Kirk,” Dann protests. “Miss Omali isn’t even one of Noah’s subjects.”

“She’s hiding it,” Kirk says savagely. “She’s one of the strongest psis in the bunch. I know.”

Fearing continues studying Margaret impassively. His nostrils are tightly curled in, as if there were a nasty odor in the throbbing, thickening air. Dann can guess the revulsion going through that secretive mind. But surely he will reject Kirk’s lunacy?

“Those, ah, terms you mentioned, Miss Omali,” Fearing says at last. “Am I to understand that you, ah, divined them from my mind?”

Oh God, paranoids accept magic. This is bad. And the damned humming feeling is worse every minute. He can’t get hallucinations now, he has to protect her—

“I don’t read minds,” says Margaret coldly. But she is shaking.

Fearing just goes on watching her. Maybe he has, what, psi powers himself, Dann thinks. Horrified, he feels the energy in the room building, pouring into him. The air resonates. Stop it, stop it.