Infinite Intruder Page 4

Barrier. Nothing more. It never was perfected in time, beforethe great Eastern Invasion and the second Atomic War. That was due tooccur three years after the time-area where we visited. We were tryingto stem it, to turn it aside. We don't know yet whether we succeededor not."

  He turned to the tall man standing at the door. "Markson, all thecalculations are prepared. The Calc is evaluating the data against theEquation now, figuring all the variables. If our work did any good, weshould know it soon." He sighed and pointed to the Palace. "But ourfine Dictator is still alive, and the attack on Mars should bestarting any minute--If we didn't succeed, nothing in all Time willstop him."

  Roger lit a cigarette, his eyes questioning Drengo. "Dictator?"

  Drengo sat down and stretched his legs. "The Dictator appeared fouryears ago, a nobody, a man from the masses of people on the planet. Herose into public favor like a sky-rocket, a remarkable man, an amazingman--a man who could talk to you, and control your thoughts in asingle interview. There has never been a man with such personalmagnetism and power, Roger, in all the history of Earth. A man whoraised himself from nothing into absolute Dictatorship, and hashandled the world according to his whim ever since.

  "He is only a young man, Roger, just 32 years of age, but anirresistible man who can win anything from anybody. He writhed intothe presidency first, and then deliberately set about rearranging thegovernment to suit himself. And the people let him get away with it,followed him like sheep. And then he was Dictator, and he beganturning the social and economic balance of the planet into awhirlwind. And then came Mars."

  Martin stretched again, and lit a cigarette, his thin face grave inthe darkened room. "The first landing was thirty years ago, and thepossibilities for rich and peaceful commerce between Earth and Marswere clear from the first. Mars had what Earth lacked: the truecivilization, the polished culture, the lasting socio-economicbalance, the permanent peace. Mars could have taught us so much. Shecould have guided us out of the mire of war and hatred that we havebeen wallowing in for centuries. But the Dictator put an end to thosepossibilities." Drengo shrugged. "He was convinced that the Martianswere weak, backward, decadent. He saw their uranium, their gold, theirjewelry, their labor--and started on a vast impossible imperialism. Ifhe had had his way, he would have stripped the planet in three years,but the Martians fought against us, turned from peace to suspicion,and finally to open revolt. And the Dictator could not see. Hemobilized Earth for total war against Mars, draining our resources,decimating our population, building rockets, bombs, guns--" He stoppedfor a moment, breathing deeply. "But the Dictator didn't know what hewas doing. He had never been on Mars. He has never seen Martians. Hehad no idea what they think, what they are capable of doing. Hedoesn't know what we know--that the Martians will win. He doesn'trealize that the Martians can carry out a war for years withoutshaking their economy one iota, while he has drained our planet tosuch a degree that a war of more than two or three months will breakus in half. He doesn't know that Mars can win, and that the Earthcan't--"

  Roger walked across the room, thoughtfully, his mind fitting piecesinto place. "But where do I come in? David--Ann--I don't understand--"

  Drengo looked Roger straight in the eye. "The Dictator's name," hesaid, "is Farrel Strang."

  Roger stopped still. "Strang?" he echoed.

  "Your son, Roger. Yours and Ann's."

  "But--you said the Dictator was only 32--" Roger trailed off,regarding Ann in amazement.

  Martin smiled. "People don't grow old so quickly nowadays," he said."You are 57 years old, Roger. Ann is 53." He leaned back in his chair,his gaunt smile fading. "The Dictator has not been without opposition.You, his parents, opposed him at the very start, and he cast you off.People wiser than the crowds were able to rebuff his powerful personalappeal, to see through the robe of glory he had wrapped aroundhimself. He has opposition, but he has built himself an impregnablefortress, and dealt swift death to any persons suspected of treason. Afew have escaped--scientists, technologists, sociologists, physicists.The work of one group of men gave us a weapon which we hoped to use todestroy the Dictator. We found a way to move back in Time. We couldleave the normal time-stream and move to any area of past time. Sofour of us went back, searching for the core of the economic andsocial upheaval on Earth, and trying to destroy the Dictator before hewas born. Given Time travel, it should have been possible. So we wentback--myself, John Morrel, Ann Strang, and you."

  Roger shook his head, a horrible thought forming in his mind. "Youwere trying to kill David--my son--" he stopped short. "David_couldn't_ have been my son!" He whirled on Martin Drengo. "_Who wasthat boy?_"

  Martin looked away then, his face white. "The boy was your father," hesaid.

  * * * * *

  The drone of the jet bombers came again, whining into the still room.Roger Strang stood very still, staring at the gaunt man. Slowly thepuzzle was beginning to fit together, and horror filtered into hismind. "My father--" he said. "Only twelve years old, but he was to bemy father." He stared helplessly at the group in the room. "You weretrying--to kill him!"

  Martin Drengo stood up, his lean face grave. "We were faced with aterrific problem. Once we returned to a time-area, we had no way ofknowing to what extent we could effect people and events that hadalready happened. We had to go back, to fit in, somehow, in an areawhere we never had been, to _make_ things happen that had neverhappened before. We knew that if there was any way of doing it, we hadto destroy Farrel Strang. But the patterns of history which hadallowed him to rise had to be altered, too; destroying the man wouldnot have been enough. So we tried to destroy him in the time-areawhere the leading time-patterns of _our_ time had been formed. We hadto kill his grandfather."

  Roger shivered. "But if you had killed David--what would have happened_to me_?"

  "Presumably the same thing that would have happened to the Dictator.In theory, _if we had succeeded_ in killing your father, David, bothyou and the Dictator would have ceased to exist." Drengo took a deepbreath. "The idea was yours, Roger. You knew the terrible damage yourson was doing as Dictator. It was a last resort, and Ann and John andI pleaded with you to reconsider. But it was the obvious step."

  Ann walked over to Roger, her face pale. "You insisted, Roger. So wedid what we could to make it easy. We used the Dictator's favoritetrick--a psycho-purge--to clear your mind of all conscious andsubconscious memory of your true origin and environment, replacing itwith a history and memory of the past-time area where we were going.We chose the contact-time carefully, so that we appeared in New Yorkin the confusion of the bombing of 2078, making sure that your recordswould stand up under all but the closest examination. From then on,when Martin carried you out from the fire, you stored your own memoryof that time-area and became a legitimate member of that society."

  "But how could we pose as David's _parents_, if he was my father?"

  Ann smiled. "Both David's parents were killed in the New York bombing;we knew that David survived, and we knew where he could be found.There was a close physical resemblance between you and the boy,though actually the resemblance was backwards, and he accepted you asa foster-father without question. With you equipped with a completememory of your marriage to me in that time, of David's birth, and ofyour own history before and after the bombing of New York, you fit inwell and played the part to perfection. Also, you acted as a control,to guide us, since you had no conscious knowledge beyond thattime-area. Martin and Morrel were to be the assassins, the Intruders,and I was to keep tabs on you--"

  "And the success of the attempt?"

  Ann's face fell. "We don't know yet. We don't know what weaccomplished, whether we stemmed the war or not--"

  The tall man who had stepped into the room moved forward and threw asheaf of papers on the floor, his face heavy with anger, his voicehoarse. "Yes, I'm afraid we do know," he said bitterly.

  Martin Drengo whirled on him, his face white. "What do you mean,Markson?"

  The tall man sank down in a cha
ir tiredly. "We've lost, Martin. Wedon't need these calculations to tell. The word was just broadcast onthe telecast. Farrel Strang's armada has just begun its attack onMars--"

  * * * * *

  For a moment the distant bombing was the only sound in the room. ThenMartin Drengo said, "So he gave the order. And we've lost."

  "We only had a theory to work on," said Morrel, staring gloomily atthe curved window. "A theory and an equation. The theory said that aman returning through time could alter the social and technologicaltrends of the people and times to which he returned, in order