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Mind Bender

by Steven Gordon



Prologue



	He was the most dangerous enemy the Alliance had ever faced.

	No person could stand up to him.

	No person could oppose him.

	A nondescript young man appeared in the middle of a heavily 
guarded power plant. He spoke a few words to a supervisor. Other people 
were in the room, but no one, including the supervisor, appeared to 
notice him. A few minutes later the supervisor flipped a switch, 
plunging an entire sector of the planet August into darkness for hours.

	The nondescript young man appeared in a local police station. 
None of the officers questioned his presence. He spoke a few words to 
the officer in charge. A few minutes later, the officer released all 
the criminals from the jail into the street. 

	A pilot boarding a cargo ship was stopped by a nondescript young 
man at Sarney Sarittenden Spaceport. No words were spoken, but the 
pilot paused for a moment, and then nodded. Several minutes later, the 
cargo ship headed straight up... and then straight down, crashing into 
the ground, causing a tremendous explosion, and killing all seven 
crewmembers aboard.

	 His victims did what they were told, even when he didn't say a 
word. To him everyone was a blank slate, one in which he could write 
orders, and they would carry them out.

	For he could control the mind of any person in the galaxy.

	Who could stop him? Police couldn't arrest him; the army couldn't 
shoot him; and even the superswift Graftonites couldn't react faster 
than the speed of thought. 

	And this nightmare was unleashed on August, the capital of the 
League and the Alliance.

	Right now he was only playing, testing his abilities, as he 
stared dispassionately at the burning wreckage at Sarney Sarittenden 
Spaceport.

	What would happen to society when he got serious?

	Who would be able to stop him?




Part I: Mind Bender



Chapter 1: Free Money



	Superspy Clifford Croft sat with several other agents in an 
office in Column Headquarters watching a live visual feed on a large 
holoreceiver. They watched as a man, standing in a park in Sarney 
Sarittenden, less than a mile away, was handing out disposable data 
pads to a growing line of people.

	Only this wasn't just any man, and those weren't ordinary 
datapads. The man was Brill Greens, one of the richest men on August, 
and each of those datapads carried the authority of ten million 
credits. He was giving out large sums of his money, to strangers, for 
free.

	"Well, that's something you don't see every day," said Croft, as 
he watched Greens hand out another ten million credit datapad.

	Preston, a fellow spy, squinted at the image. "What is it all 
about? Some kind of publicity stunt?"

	"If it is, it's a mighty expensive one," said Croft. "Press 
reports indicate he's already given away more than a billion credits."

	"Wow!" said Preston. "We should go and get in line."

	"I was just thinking of that," said Croft. "But by now the line 
has gotten very long. He touched a control, and the screen widened to 
show the line stretching far in the distance.
	"But still, all that money," said Preston.

	"I know it's a lot of money, but I hate waiting in lines," said 
Croft. He moved to reset the image so it was once again focused on 
Greens. Greens had a vacant smile as he handed out datapads, as if 
giving away his wealth was something he enjoyed doing every day.

	Croft panned out slightly, to see Greens' assistants bringing in 
boxes filled with more datapads. He saw something, and frowned.

	"What?" said Preston, noticing his change of expression.

	Croft adjusted the controls, panning to the right. A man was 
standing to the right of Greens' assistants, just standing there.

	"Look familiar?" said Croft.

	Preston nodded. "That's-"

	Suddenly, there was a buzz, and Croft touched his comm. "Croft! 
The Chief wants to see you, right away."

	Croft got up.

	"What do you think A.A. wants?" Preston asked.

	"I don't know. But I hope he doesn't want me to stand in line for 
him," said Croft.

	Croft hated waiting, and therefore he hated lines. He also hated 
waiting outside the Chief's office, so when he reached Aldman 
Alderman's office, he was glad to be quickly rushed into the Chief's 
office. The Chief, viewing a holoreceiver, was watching the same scene 
Croft was.

	"What do you think of this?" the Chief asked, indicating the 
scene before them.

	"He's very generous with his money," said Croft. "I just wished 
there was some way we could get some without waiting in line. Surely, 
in this day and age we could sign up and automatically-"

	"Croft!" said the Chief. He pressed a button, and a man standing 
to the side of Brill Greens was highlighted. "Do you recognize this 
individual?"

	"Hm," said Croft. "He does bear a remarkable resemblance to Agent 
Waverly of Directorate Intelligence."

	"Yes, he does, doesn't he?" said A.A.

	The League, which Croft worked for, and the Directorate, which 
Agent Waverly worked for, together formed the Alliance. The Alliance 
was not so much a government but a military alignment between two 
separate and independent governments. One of them was the very large 
League of United Planets, a democracy, with its capital on August. 
Croft was currently in Sarney Sarittenden, the capital city of August.

	The other government in the Alliance was the June Directorate, 
technically a dictatorship, but a relatively enlightened one, under the 
authority of Steven Quick.  Quick was a supergenius with silvery eyes 
who ruled the Directorate like a meritocracy, employing minimal 
government to spur the economy while using his legendary thinking 
abilities to think several steps ahead of the curve. But his 
government, however benevolent, was still technically a dictatorship, 
and the League didn't really like that.

	The League and the Directorate had been hostile to each other for 
a number of years. However, when the Slurian Union (another 
dictatorship, but a relatively unenlightened one) attempted to turn the 
Directorate against the League, their efforts backfired, and the League 
and the Directorate eventually entered into the Alliance against the 
Slurians. 

	Agent Waverly was a senior DI (Directorate Intelligence) 
operative who Croft had worked with before. Croft certainly recognized 
him, as he had several minutes ago with Preston.

	"What is he doing there?" said A.A.

	"Getting some free credits?" said Croft. He was joking, of 
course; Waverly clearly was not on line, but standing to the side.

	A.A. gave him a menacing look.

	"How would I know?" said Croft. "It's an enigma wrapped in a 
conundrum. Or should that be a conundrum wrapped in an enigma? I always 
forget which gets wrapped first."

	"Ha ha," said A.A. "That was very funny, and now that you have 
greatly amused us both, you can return to reality again. A billionaire 
suddenly decides to give away all his money, and a foreign agent is 
standing by his side. I want to know what is going on."
	"Why don't you ask him?" said Croft. "We are allies, after all."

	"And who is our main contact man with the Directorate?" said A.A. 
"Who is virtually the only agent ever to meet Steven Quick himself, on 
not one but several occasions?"

	Croft said nothing.

	"Croft!"

	"Oh, were you expecting an answer? Sorry, I thought it was a 
rhetorical question," said Croft. He paused. "Can you repeat the 
question?"

	"Get out there and find out what's going on," said A.A.

	"Yes, Chief," said Croft.



	A convenient travel tube brought him to the park within a few 
short minutes. It was a small park, surrounded by giant buildings, but 
it was amazing for a park of any size to be there. Land was very 
precious in downtown Sarney Sarittenden, the capital city on the 
capital planet of the League and the Alliance. Skyscrapers hundreds of 
feet tall blotted out direct sunlight except during the short time the 
sun was directly overhead.	

	Croft casually walked to the side of the very long line as he 
made his way up front. Security had been called in to keep the line 
orderly, and for the most part people stood patiently, though he did 
hear more than one complaint about how long one had to wait for their 
free money. Instantly Croft felt vindicated; it wouldn't have been 
worth the wait in line.

	As Croft approached the head of the line he saw a large, furry 
almost rat-like creature standing and observing the scene. It stood on 
four legs, had strawlike fur, had a rectangular snout, and wore 
spectacles over its large eyes. Above it was a hologram of an old 
fashioned quill, floating in the air, writing rapidly on a holographic 
tablet, which was also floating in the air.

	Interesting.

	But no time for that now.

	Croft walked forward and saw Brill Greens, still grinning 
maniacally, handing out datapads. Croft saw one of Greens' assistants 
arguing with him, and then Greens pushed him away, screaming "More 
money! Must give away more money!". Then, as if on some prearranged 
signal, the police moved in. 

	"No!" Greens screamed. "I must give away all my money!" 

	Suddenly, two white coated officials from the mental health 
authorities slipped through the police cordon. They covered Greens with 
what looked like a giant butterfly net. Then they started to drag him 
to a waiting padded hovertruck. All the while Greens continued to 
scream about the need to give away his money. The side of the all white 
truck was labeled "Department of Health - Personality Readjustment 
Division."

	The crowed rushed forward to grab the remaining datapads. The 
police were overwhelmed, even as they attempted to use their stun 
batons to best use. Their stun batons, it might be noted, were 
virtually identical to the cattle prods used by farmers on the outer 
colonies.

	Croft jumped back to avoid the surging crowd. Even so a man would 
have collided against him, if someone hadn't strategically pulled Croft 
to the side.

	Croft turned to face his benefactor.

	"Agent Waverly," said Croft.

	"Agent Croft," said Agent Waverly. "Did you come down for some 
money? I didn't realize Column salaries were so meager that you needed 
a supplement."

	"Actually, I came here because I saw you," said Croft.

	"Did I appear in the holobroadcasts? How careless of me," said 
Agent Waverly. He watched the hovervan carrying Greens drive away. 
"What is he being arrested for? Is it now a crime to give away one's 
money in the League? Given your notoriously high rate of taxation, I 
would think such a move would be applauded by your chattering classes-"

	"Waverly, what are you doing here?" Croft.

	"Why don't we go for a walk?" said Agent Waverly.

	Croft looked around. The large rat-like creature was gone. Well, 
Croft knew where to find him. Croft nodded.

	Waverly walked, and Croft followed. He walked casually along the 
park's edge long enough to be reasonably sure they weren't being 
followed, and then gestured for Croft to follow him down several 
flights of stairs into the underground city. August, Sarney in 
particular, was so crowded, that the city had not only expanded 
upwards, and every other direction of the compass, but downwards as 
well.

	As they stepped into the undercity, the idea of an ambush barely 
crossed Croft's mind. Waverly worked with an allied government, he had 
no reason to kidnap or kill Croft, and he would hardly do it in Sarney 
Sarittenden, the seat of power, in any event.

	Still, it was undeniable that they were paid by different 
employers, and Croft didn't even fully trust other members of the 
Column, much less someone from a different agency.

	But nothing eventful occurred until they reached a small room on 
sublevel 5C.

	Croft stepped into the furnished room as Waverly closed the door 
behind him.

	"A safehouse?"
	"Nothing so dramatic," said Agent Waverly.

	He checked a device on the shelf.

	"Do we have privacy?"

	Waverly paused, and said, "It appears so."
	"So what is this all about?"
	Waverly turned to Croft. "Fourteen days ago, a supervisor at one 
of your power plants flipped a switch, plunging the southern sector of 
August into darkness for several hours."
	"I saw the report on that," said Croft.
	"Did you find out the cause?"

	"The supervisor said he made a mistake. It's being investigated."
	Waverly looked at Croft. "Eight days ago, the chief of police of 
Gleaming, some two hundred miles south of here, suddenly decided to 
release all his prisoners, despite the protestations of his deputies."

	"I think I heard something about this," said Croft. 

	"Do you know what happened?"

	"No," said Croft. "Do you?"
	"The police chief claimed he didn't realize he was letting the 
prisoners go," said Agent Waverly. 

	"What does this have to do with-"

	"Four days ago a cargo ship crashed into the field on Sarney 
Sarittenden Spaceport."

	"That I know," said Croft. "The cause-"

	"Is still being investigated," said Agent Waverly. "But did you 
know that mechanical error has already been ruled out?"
	"How?' said Croft. 

	"A recorded holo of the craft. It clearly went up on thrusters, 
and then clearly aimed for the ground, and clearly activated its drive, 
to thrust downwards. It was piloted, purposefully, to crash."

	Croft said, "How do you know-"

	"How I know is not important," said Agent Waverly. "And then 
today, one of the richest men on August starts handing out tens of 
millions of credits as if it's nothing more valuable than water."
	"Water is actually somewhat of a scarce commodity on August," 
Croft said.

	"You see my point," said Agent Waverly.

	"Yes, I see your point. Can you tell me why he did it, and what, 
if any, are the connection between these three incidents?" said Croft.

	"I don't know," said Agent Waverly.

	"You don't know?" said Croft. "You seemed to know enough to be 
there. People at the Column saw you, and my Chief actually has the 
tiniest suspicion that you might be involved."

	"I heard about the great money giveaway the same time the Column 
did, a few hours ago. The only difference is that I attached more 
significance to the event, and went there to observe it firsthand," 
said Agent Waverly. "But I didn't have any prior knowledge that it 
would happen."

	"What brings you to August in the first place?" said Croft. 
"You're one of Quick's leading troubleshooters. Why are you here?"
	"I'm here to investigate this... whatever this is," said Agent 
Waverly.

	"But this is League territory. Why didn't you notify us?" said 
Croft.

	"And go through channels? How long would that have taken? How 
many more incidents before we could convince you that something was 
going on?" Waverly asked.
	"You purposely stood in range of the holorecorders," said Croft. 
"You wanted us to see you. You knew... you knew they would send me, 
because of our prior association. Very clever. Something that Steven 
Quick would have thought of."
	"You give him too much credit. He's much too busy to plan such 
minutia," said Agent Waverly.

	"Nevertheless, why have you called me in?" Croft asked.
	"To warn a fellow ally about danger," said Agent Waverly.

	"That's very nice, and touching as well," said Croft. "Your 
friendship and loyalty really mean a lot to me."

	Croft gave a smile brimming with milk and honey.

	Waverly gave a thin smile in return.

	Croft's smile faded, as if turned off by a switch.  "Now that 
we've gotten that out of the way, would you mind telling me the truth, 
even just a small amount of it?"

	"Clifford-"

	 "We both know that you and your boss don't have the highest 
opinion of League Intelligence," Croft pointed out.

	"It's true that we think your larger affiliate, Stellar 
Intelligence, would have trouble pouring out a cup of gauche if the 
instructions were written on the side of the cup," said Agent Waverly. 
"But we have a higher opinion of the Column; and we have an even higher 
opinion of you."

	"I'm flattered."

	"It was you, after all, who averted war between our two 
governments when the Slurians attempted to manipulate us." Agent 
Waverly noted.

	"I do have a vague memory of something I might have played a 
minor part in," said Croft.

	"Your modesty does not become you," said Agent Waverly.

	"Neither does your subterfuge," said Croft. "You guys can never 
get to the point. You always have a plan within a plan within a plan. 
What is it you really want?"
	"To work together, to have a joint investigation," said Agent 
Waverly.

	"I still don't believe it," Croft replied instantly. "I mean, 
we've worked on the same side before, but you've never actively called 
for our help."
	Waverly sighed, and ever so slowly took something out of his 
jacket. He pressed a button on the device, and the prerecorded image of 
Steven Quick, the ruler of the June Directorate, appeared.

	"Ah, Clifford," said the image of Quick, his silvery eyes glowing 
oddly. "You have probably reached the point in your conversation with 
Agent Waverly where you are expressing skepticism about our motives. 
Perhaps your institutional paranoia has caused you to even entertained 
the farfetched idea that we have a role in recent events." 

	"Well, now that you mention it-"

	"Your suspicions are natural, given the healthy sense of 
skepticism you are endowed with. However, we really do need your help 
on this one. August is your territory, not ours, and you can command 
greater resources than Agent Waverly can in this investigation," said 
Quick.

	Croft wondered why Quick cared about August.

	Those silvery eyes stared at him. "At this point you're probably 
wondering why I care about a series of odd, perhaps even accidental or 
coincidental events on August. Well, first of all, Clifford, I need not 
remind you that we are allies, and anything that concerns you, concerns 
us."

	"Now for the real reason, please," said Croft, speaking to the 
recording.

	"But more immediately, there is something very odd about these 
incidents. We spotted them before you did because our agents are 
trained to spot patterns, and this is an unusual and disturbing 
pattern. Something is acting to turn people against their own nature. 
Some sort of brainwashing, or coercion? I think you can see the 
implications if whoever is behind this turns their attention to June. 
That's why I want it stopped on August." Quick paused a moment, his 
silvery eyes flirting left and right.

	"I think you and Agent Waverly have made an excellent team in the 
past and I am sure you can do so again now," said Quick. "Assuming your 
superiors agree to a joint investigation, Agent Waverly will keep me 
informed of your progress." Those silvery eyes seemed to bore into 
Croft. "Good hunting, Clifford. And be careful."
	The image faded.

	"So he anticipated," said Croft.

	"That's what he does," said Agent Waverly.

	"So what's next?" said Croft.

	"We investigate," said Agent Waverly.

	"I'm still not convinced that there is a connection between these 
incidents," said Croft. "There are billions of people on August. Three 
of them going crazy is not unusual. A handful out of billions are bound 
to go crazy, from time to time."

	"But you will investigate?" Waverly asked.

	Croft nodded. "I'll talk to the Chief.  Let me look into this. 
I'll get back to you. Where are you staying?"
	"The embassy."

	"Oh, of course. What's your cover?" Croft asked.
	"Culinary attache," said Agent Waverly.

	"How sweet," Croft commented.


Chapter 2: Initial Investigations



	Croft easily got permission from the Chief to pursue the joint 
investigation with Agent Waverly. The Chief was impressed that Waverly 
had spotted the trend first, if indeed it was a trend. Croft  also got 
several other agents, including Preston, assigned to him. Preston was 
delighted to be on the case; at least, that was how Croft told him he 
should feel.

	"So what's the story with this supervisor at the power plant?" 
Croft said.

	"He still sticks to the story that he flipped the wrong switch," 
said Preston. "Only, it wasn't that simple."

	"How so?"

	"He didn't simply turn off the power," said Preston. "If he had 
done that, they simply could have turned it back on in a few minutes. 
He actually executed a series of commands at his controller's terminal 
that caused a burnout of key relay circuits before hitting the switch."

	"It sounds like sabotage," said Croft.

	"It would seem so," said Preston. "Only...."

	"What?"

	"He had no motive," said Preston. "We checked him out. Normal 
family man. He didn't try to hide what he did, or escape after the 
fact. No payments we could find or trace. He acts like he made a simple 
mistake, but it's clear now that he's not covering up incompetence. He 
did what he did purposefully."

	"Hm....," said Croft. "And what about the police chief who let 
all the criminals go?"
	"He says he doesn't remember doing anything either. But twenty 
officers at his station can testify that he ordered the prisoners 
released," said Preston.

	Croft asked, "What about the story of the cargo ship that crashed 
into SSS a few days ago?"

	"It was exactly like your friend Waverly said," said Preston. 
"Preliminary investigations show the ship was crashed, purposefully. 
The pilot isn't available for interrogation, obviously, but we checked 
his record. Clean, normal. Not a known fanatic or crazy."
	"Clean and normal people don't crash their own cargo ships," said 
Croft. "Why would he do it? What would it accomplish?"

	"Maybe you should ask your friend Quick that," said Preston. 
"He's always several steps ahead, isn't he?"

	"If he knew what was going on, he wouldn't be asking for our 
help," said Croft irritably.

	"Not necessarily," said Preston. "He might know what's going on 
and manipulating us into taking action."

	"We shouldn't have to be manipulated into taking action," said 
Croft. "Something is going wrong here. And Quick and the June 
Directorate are allies, remember?"

	"Allies don't always have the same interests," said Preston.

	Croft changed the subject. "What information do we have about the 
Brill Greens situation?"

	"He's more interesting. He does remember giving out his money for 
free. He screamed all the way to the mental hospital that he wanted to 
give away more. But then, this morning, he returned to normal. He says 
he remembers doing what he did, but isn't sure why."

	"Poor fellow," said Croft. "Losing all his money, like that."
	"Oh, he didn't lose all his money," said Preston. He checked his 
report. "He only gave away a little over a billion; he still has two 
billion more."

	"Oh, then it's not a big deal, then," said Croft. He looked into 
the air, momentarily. "Greens. The police chief. The power boss. Have 
they been checked for drugs, brainwashing?"

	"Yes. The results came up negative."

	"Which is hardly conclusive, if a fast acting drug were used, or 
if it were a very subtle form of hypnosis," said Croft. 

	"It doesn't make any sense," said Preston. "What is gained by 
these actions? Giving away money doesn't cause any harm. The power shut 
down was inconvenient, but hardly catastrophic."

	"But then there are those dead people on the cargo ship."

	"Yes, but if it were an act of terrorism, why didn't they crash 
it into something big, like a building?" said Preston. "They crashed it 
into flat, empty land."

	"As if they didn't care," said Croft. "As if they were tests."

	"What?"

	"Testing," said Croft. "Someone is testing a new system of 
coercion. They don't care what the results are; they just want to see 
if it will work."

	"Coercion? What kind of coercion?"
	"I don't know," said Croft. He glanced sharply at Preston. "Have 
our people checked for any connection between these individuals?"

	"We're backtracking them now, but so far, no common connections. 
We can't find a common person who had a grudge against them, or a 
financial interest," said Preston. 

	"You're wrong," said Croft. "There is a common connection between 
them."

	"There is?" said Preston.

	"Someone got to each of these three people. When we find out who 
that person is, we'll find out how he does it," said Croft. He stared 
at the ceiling for a moment.

	"A power plant. A spaceport. A police station. A rich man's 
mansion. At least three of these must have had security holorecorders," 
said Croft. "Check back 50 hours before each incident at each 
location."

	"That will take some time," said Preston.

	"That's all right," said Croft, getting up. "I have an 
appointment."

	"With whom?" 

	"With what," Croft corrected him.



	Aliens were not a common sight on August, or on any planet, for 
that matter. Mankind had encountered relatively few alien races during 
the exploration of the stars, and what contacts there had been had been 
fleeting.

	But there was one alien they had had a solid contact with. 
Luckily for them, this alien turned out to be friendly.  In fact, this 
alien actually chose to lived on August, all alone among billions of 
humans. Croft came to know this alien better than almost any other 
person on August, which is to say, not very well at all, since this 
alien was quite enigmatic and secretive. 

	His name was Professor Capybara and he looked like a giant furry 
rat who wore spectacles and had a pipe coming out of the end of his 
rectangular snout. Smoke periodically wafted out of it, although Croft 
suspected the smoke was holographic because it didn't give off any 
smell.

	Croft entered the secure location where the Professor lived, 
passing through several security checks. The Professor was free to come 
and go as he pleased, of course; the security was only to protect him, 
not keep him caged in. Not that the League could caged him in, even if 
they wanted to.

	"Ah, young (tweatle tweatle) Clifford," came the familiar 
singsong voice, as Croft stepped into the well furnished living room. 
The Professor's back was turned to Croft, but Croft wasn't at all 
surprised that he knew he was coming.

	"Professor," said Croft, and Croft had to resist a smile as the 
Professor, with a datapad in his hand and a pipe in his mouth, turned 
to face him.

	Croft pointed to the datapad. "Are we a little richer today, 
Professor?"

	The Professor Capybara didn't flinch. "How do you mean, 
Clifford?"
	"I saw you at the big money giveaway yesterday," said Croft.

	"Ah, yes, that was an interesting set of (tweatle tweatle) 
observations," said the Capybara. "How is it that one who is so 
(tweatle tweatle) obsessed with obtaining ownership of a substantial 
share of your economy suddenly becomes equally (tweatle tweatle) 
obsessed with giving it away?"
	"I was hoping you could answer that," said Croft.

	"I?" said the Capybara, putting a webbed paw to his chest.

	"You were there," said Croft.

	"Surely you don't think I could be (tweatle tweatle)," said the 
Professor.

	"Strange things have happened around you before," said Croft.

	"But Clifford, you know my role is only to observe," said the 
Professor.

	"Observe for whom? For what purpose?" Croft asked.

	The Professor waddled over to a sack of peanuts. He put one in 
his mouth and chewed, shell and all. "Would you like one, Clifford?"

	"No," said Croft. He waited another moment, but then realized no 
additional  answer was forthcoming. The Professor had used his classic 
peanut maneuver on him to evade the question. This was hardly the first 
time. Croft tried again. "Do you have any idea what was going on?"

	"One of your fellow humans was distributing his resources-"

	"Do you have any idea WHY this was happening?" Croft asked.

	"That's a much tougher (tweatle tweatle)," said the Professor. 
"Who can say why any of you humans (tweatle tweatle)?"

	"So you don't know," said Croft.

	"I do have a (tweatle tweatle) theory," said the Professor. 

	"Do tell," said Croft.

	"The design of the human mind," said the Professor.

	"What about it?" said Croft.

	"Very poorly designed. Often prone to error, and (tweatle 
tweatle) irrational behavior," said the Professor. "Haven't you 
noticed? Oh, I forget, you have one of those (tweatle tweatle) minds, 
don't you?"
	"That's it?" said Croft. "Just out of curiosity, do you have the 
ability to answer a single question without being patronizing or 
deprecating of humanity in general?"

	"I don't mean to antagonize you, young Clifford," said the 
Professor. "In the future, perhaps I should massage the truth a bit to 
make it more pleasant to hear." 

	"Stop with the massaging!" said Croft, getting enraged. "Were you 
also aware that one of our commercial space pilots crashed his own ship 
into the ground? Or that a police chief let an entire jail full of 
criminals loose, or that a power boss purposefully sabotaged his own 
power plant?"

	"Interesting," said the Professor. A holographic quill and tablet 
appeared above his head, and started writing rapidly.

	"Stop with the note taking!" Croft screamed. "Can't you say 
anything useful?"

	"I cannot get involved, Clifford," said the Professor.

	"Is that your very backhanded way of saying that you weren't in 
any way involved in these incidents?" Croft asked.
	"Certainly not," said the Professor, raising his snout 
indignantly.

	"Well, I suppose that tells me something, then," said Croft. The 
Capybara didn't have any reason to lie, none that Croft knew, anyway. 
He turned to go.

	"Clifford," said the Professor.

	"Yes," said Croft, turning back.

	"Be careful," said the Professor, and there appeared to be 
genuine concern in his black eyes.

	"Be careful of what?" said Croft.

	"Of whom," said the Professor, nodding slowly.

	The Professor knew what was going on. He wasn't going to tell 
Croft, some rule obviously prevented that, but he was trying at least 
to tell him something. It wasn't some kind of alien, outside force. It 
was a person, and a person who could be dangerous.

	Croft nodded in return, and left.



	When he returned to the Column, Preston surprised him. 

	They knew the identity of the saboteur.

	"He was on all the security holorecordings," said Preston. "You 
were right. Just a few minutes before each event."

	"Let me see," said Croft.

	Preston punched up the videos. One showed a nondescript, ordinary 
looking man going up to the power plant supervisor. Words were said, 
but were too faint to make out. 

	The other videos showed much the same: the nondescript man 
approaching each of the people who lately acted strangely.

	"Do we have an identity on this guy yet?" Croft asked.

	"Not yet," said Preston. "We did a sample run against known enemy 
agents, but there was no match. We're doing a broader search now, but 
it's going to take some time."

	"Get cracking on it," said Croft.

	"Do you think all these people acting strangely are part of some 
underground?" said Preston. "Some group that's trying to disrupt 
August?"

	"Not unless they're a group of underground telepaths," said 
Croft.

	"What do you mean?" said Preston.

	"Have a look at this last video," said Croft.

	He replayed the one of the nondescript man approaching Brill 
Greens. The man said nothing, but after a moment Brill nodded, and 
moved on.

	"Nothing was said, but meaning was understood," said Croft.

	"Then they're... telepaths?" said Preston.

	"Or the one elusive guy is."
	"How do we tell if the guy is the only telepath, or if they all 
are?"
	"We bring in an outside consultant," said Croft.



	Croft sighed as he passed through the final layer of security and 
entered the heavily guarded gamma section. The gammas were the Column's 
secret weapons, individuals with mental powers and unusual skills. 
Unfortunately, with those skills usually came a price: eccentricity, 
bizarre behavior, anti-social tendencies-

	A blast of fire came out of a junction just before Croft entered 
it. He jumped back, reflexively drawing his blaster.

	The fire disappeared. In its place appeared a young woman in a 
tight red outfit with red and blonde hair. She grinned at him.

	"Sally, that was dangerous," said Croft. "You could have burned 
me."

	"No I couldn't have," said Red Sally.

	"Why not?" Croft asked.

	"Because he told me I wouldn't," said Red Sally, indicating a 
pale, crouching figure who came up besides her.

	"Mongo," said Croft.

	"So glad to see us, yes, the Croft is," said the one called 
Mongo.

	"I'm on an important mission-"

	"Yes, missions always important, important ones always go to the 
Croft, yes?" said Mongo.

	"-and I'm in a bit of a hurry."
	"Never take time to say hello to poor Mongo, no, the Croft only 
talks to Mongo when the Croft needs something. The Croft bursts in, he 
bursts in, and says, 'Mongo, need this! Mongo, need that!' Never, hello 
Mongo, how are you today? Was your lunch to your liking?"

	"I really have to see-"

	"The picky one, yes," said Mongo.

	Red Sally grinned, looking amused.

	Croft shook his head, walking past them.

	"But you will be back, you will come to talk to Mongo," said 
Mongo.

	Croft turned back, "And in all the futures you see, do you ever 
ask how about my lunch?"

	Mongo hissed at him; Croft grinned and continued onwards.

	The person he wanted was sitting in a chair, looking at the 
ceiling.

	"Hello Dalbo," said Croft.

	The man continued to stare, his lips moving silently.

	"When someone says hello to you, often the polite thing to do is 
to say hello back," Croft noted. "You might even make eye contact with 
them, but I don't want to ask for too much."

	The man continued to stare upwards.

	Croft sighed, and put a hand over the man's face. The man 
blinked, and looked at Croft. "You made me lose count."

	"Don't tell me you haven't counted the ceiling tiles a hundred 
times over already," said Croft.

	"Twenty one times," said Dalbo Alto. "I have counted them exactly 
twenty one times."

	"Then what more will one more time matter? It's not likely that 
the count will ever change, will it?" said Croft.

	"Grey tiles," said Dalbo.

	"What?" said Croft.

	"Grey tiles," said Dalbo.

	Croft looked up. The tiles were white. "They look white to me."

	"Some of them have a grey streak. Others have two grey streaks," 
said Dalbo.

	Croft looked closely. He still didn't see any grey streaks. "So 
you were counting to see which ones have grey streaks?"

	"Which ones have how many grey streaks," said Dalbo. As a 
follower of Reductionist Stimulism, these sorts of tiny things 
fascinated him. "I have already done that."

	"Will this allow you to finish your dissertation on the subject?" 
Croft inquired.

	Dalbo glanced sharply at Croft. "It is not merely a matter of how 
many have grey streaks. It is a matter of placement, the pattern of 
tiles with one grey streak, with two grey streaks, with no grey 
streaks."

	"You think they were put down in a pattern?"

	"It is an interesting study," said Dalbo.

	"I'm sure it is," said Croft. "But right now I need your help-"

	"You always need my help," said Dalbo, looking up again.

	"And you're always happy to give it," said Croft, putting his 
hand up to block Dalbo's view of the ceiling.

	"Are you going to continue to block my view until you get what 
you want?"

	"You're the mindreader," said Croft. "You tell me."





* * * * * * * * * *



	"Try and concentrate," said the interrogator.

	Croft, Agent Waverly, Preston and Dalbo sat in a room with a one 
way window on another room containing an interrogator and Brill Greens. 
Normally it would have been out of the question for Waverly, or any 
outsider, to be around Dalbo, as he was one of the League's best kept 
secrets; but Quick as well as Waverly already knew about Dalbo's 
existence, so Croft didn't see any harm in having him attend. Letting 
Waverly attend could also confirm a hunch Croft had.

	Brill Greens, looking sweaty, bit his lip. "I just don't 
remember!"

	"Your own holosecurity recorder revealed that this individual was 
in your presence for a full 98 seconds," said the interrogator.

	"I haven't committed any crime!" said Greens.

	"You haven't been charged with one. We just want you to answer 
the question," said the interrogator. He was a fellow Column agent, of 
course. "This individual was in your presence for 98 seconds. He didn't 
say a word to you, but according to the holorecording, you spoke to 
him, saying, "Yes, I understand. I will distribute my wealth 
immediately."

	"I don't remember saying that," said Greens.

	"He's telling the truth," said Preston casually, checking a 
monitor. The chair that Greens was sitting in was a bit more 
sophisticated than it looked.

	"Dalbo?" said Croft.

	Dalbo, staring at the one way window, didn't respond.

	"August to Dalbo, August to Dalbo, come in, Dalbo," said Croft.

	"44," said Dalbo promptly.

	"44 what?" said Croft.

	"44 floor tiles," said Dalbo. "Exactly 44. Not 45, not 43-"
	"Not 46, not 42," said Croft. "That's really exciting. But can 
you turn away from the decorating survey for a moment and tell me what 
he's thinking?"

	"He is thinking about his lawyer, and whether his lawyer can 
extract him from this situation," said Dalbo.

	"What about his encounter with the nondescript man?"

	Dalbo frowned for a minute and paused. "Empty."

	"Empty? Empty what?" said Preston.

	"I was referring to the noun, not the verb," said Dalbo. "He is 
trying to recall what happened, but he can't. There is a blank spot in 
his mind."

	"A... blank spot," said Croft. "What could cause that?"

	"Drugs?" said Preston.

	"You saw the holorecording," said Croft. "He wasn't drugged."
	"Maybe prior hypnosis or conditioning," Preston said.

	"That would need to be triggered somehow," said Croft. "The 
nondescript guy didn't say a word. It's true that the presence of the 
nondescript guy could have triggered prior conditioning, but-"

	"It's much more likely that we have a telepath on our hands," 
said Preston. He was no dummy; that's why Croft could tolerate him 
better than most other Column agents.

	"Not just a telepath," said Croft. "He can apparently not only 
read minds, he can change them."

	"That was our conclusion as well," said Agent Waverly.

	Croft looked at Waverly. "That's why Quick really called us in. 
You knew we had Dalbo, and wanted us to use him to confirm your 
suspicions."

	Agent Waverly took a deep breath. "That was one reason. But don't 
underestimate the value of your investigative ability, Agent Croft," 
said Agent Waverly. "Director Quick thinks very highly of you."
	"Really?" Croft looked interested. "Perhaps you can have him put 
in a good word with the Chief for me during my next performance 
review," said Croft.

	"So what do we do next?" Preston asked.

	"We find out who this nondescript guy is," said Croft. He turned 
to Preston, "Shouldn't you be conducting the search?"

	"I have a team working on it," said Preston. "A baker doesn't 
have to be standing there to watch his robots bake bread."

	Croft was feverishly thinking of a catchy reply when Preston's 
comm beeped. Preston pressed a button. Someone spoke on the other end.

	"We have him," said Preston.





	"Albert Wender," said Croft, looking at the holoreport.

	"He's a League citizen. No known ties to foreign governments or 
extremist groups," said Preston, reading the report on his own 
terminal. Agent Waverly stood in the background, keenly eyeing the 
exchange between the two.

	"He has a minor criminal record. Two assaults, charges dropped on 
one, put on probation for the other," said Croft. 

	"That didn't stop him from going ES."

	"Exploration Service?" said Croft. He glanced over the record. 
"Make that formerly of the ES." ES was the League's Exploration 
Service. Croft gave a low whistle. "Resigned from the service after his 
last mission, two months ago."

	"Wouldn't you?" said Preston. "He went out on a four man probe, 
and he's the only one who came back alive."

	"What happened?" Croft said, reading rapidly to find where 
Preston was reading.

	"Doesn't say," said Preston. "He claims he had amnesia. His ship 
went to explore a new sector, and only he came back."

	"I see it," said Croft. "They sent a followup team, but never 
found any sign of the original crew. What about the rest of his 
background?"

	"Looking...." said Preston. He paused for a moment. "He looks 
like a bit of a hothead, but everything else looks normal."

	"Normal, that is, until he comes back as the only survivor of a 
four man expedition, with no explanation of what happened to the rest 
of his crew," said Croft.

	"Do you think he killed them?" Preston asked.

	"Maybe they discovered he could control minds," said Croft. "No, 
that's stupid. He would never allow them to discover that." After all, 
a person who could control minds could instruct people not to realize 
or remember that such a person could control their minds.

	"There's no evidence that he had this kind of ability before he 
left," said Preston. "Either he kept it well hidden, or something 
happened on that mission that gave him that ability."

	"What could happen to a person to give them the ability to 
control minds?" said Croft.

	"I don't know," said Preston. "But they were searching for 
Monumental technology. Maybe they were playing with a technology they 
didn't understand, Maybe some exotic piece of Monumental technology 
killed the others and changed him."

	"The followup reports don't mention anything about a cache of 
Monumental technology," said Croft. He looked casually over at Agent 
Waverly. "Your thoughts?"

	"You should issue a planetwide alert for him," said Agent 
Waverly.

	"Easy to say, not so easy to do," said Croft. "Can you see an 
officer bringing him in? Can you see him allowing an officer to bring 
him in?"
	"You're assuming he really can read and control minds. If 
something really happened to him on this expedition," said Agent 
Waverly. "It's all still a theory. You need more information."

	"Right," said Croft, making a decision. "Preston. Locate his 
parents, and make an appointment for later today. Do the same for his 
supervisor at ES. You can comm me with the coordinates." Croft 
activated his personnel locator, and pressed a few buttons and nodded.
	"Where are you going?" said Preston.

	"I thought I would get a bite to eat," said Croft.

	

	The main cafeteria was on the 250th floor of the Column 
Headquarters, and offered great views of downtown August. But Croft, 
with Waverly in tow, didn't go there for the views or the food. Instead 
he entered the kitchen area, to the side of the main cafeteria.

	"Ow Wow Wow!" said a deep but tiny voice.

	Croft looked down to see a small cream colored Pomeranian staring 
at him. The animal was very furry, had small foxlike ears, a black 
nose, and large black eyes.

	"Ow, Wow!" said the dog again.

	"Hello, Croft," said another voice.

	Croft turned to see Levi Esherkol, the Column's chief scientist, 
wearing an apron and oversized chef's hat. 

	"Do you really understand what he says, or is that all part of 
the act?" Croft asked. The Pomeranian looked at Croft closely as he 
spoke, turning his head at an angle as if he were listening intently.

	Quick was no ordinary Pomeranian. Yes, his name really was Quick, 
named after Steven Quick, the supergenius who ran the June Directorate. 
He was a genetically engineered dog, a type 212 (b) Pomeranian, with a 
very large IQ. Levi had named him Quick in honor of the real Quick. 
Quick the dog was smarter than all dogs, of course, but what was really 
astounding was that he was also smarter than many people as well.

	"I saw you come in," said Levi, in his old EastEuro accent. "What 
want?" Levi turned on a loud fan over a pot and started stirring.

	"I need your help, Levi," said Croft.

	"What?" Levi asked.

	"Mind control, Levi."
	"What?" Levi said.

	"Mind control," said Croft, more loudly.

	Levi continued to stir.

	Croft sighed, went over, and turned off the fan. Quick barked.

	"Why can you never let me cook in peace?" said Levi.

	"Well, for starters, you're not the cook here," said Croft. 
"You're chief scientist, and if you weren't twice as good as any other 
scientist here the chief wouldn't indulge your whims. Secondly, we have 
someone on the loose who can apparently control anyone's mind and make 
them do very dangerous things. And thirdly, I'm not at all sure that 
dogs are actually allowed in food preparation areas."
	Quick barked at Croft. Croft ignored him.

	"Control minds?" said Levi. "Are you sure?"

	"It looks that way," said Croft. "I've transmitted a summary of 
what we know to your central folder."
	"What you want?"

	"A method of blocking mind control," said Croft. "We need it as 
soon as possible."

	Levi laughed. Even Quick stuck out his tongue and smiled.

	"What's so funny?" Croft said.

	"You so funny," said Levi. "You come into my kitchen, and expect 
me develop totally unknown technology. It's like you asking for 
Monumental technology, or the first cure for aging-"
	"We already have the anti-aging serum, but thanks," said Croft, 
who, like everyone around him (except Quick), was several hundred years 
old. "Is it really so difficult? I mean, all you need to do is block 
brainwaves, right? And we've been experimenting with Dalbo for years, 
right?"

	Levi laughed again.

	Croft glanced at Agent Waverly, who was keeping a studiously 
neutral expression. Croft turned back to Levi, who was still laughing.

	"I'm glad to bring you such pleasure," said Croft. "But do you 
come with subtitles?"

	Levi stopped laughing. "Sorry. Was cutting a humor onion before, 
must still be suffering the effects-"

	"Right Levi. Can we wander back into truth territory for a little 
while now?" Croft asked.

	"Is not nearly so simple as you think," said Levi. "First is 
matter of brainwaves. No known way of scrambling brainwaves from 
outside of head. Even if could do, result would cause brains to stop 
working."

	"Oh," said Croft. He hadn't thought of that.

	"Furthermore, studying Dalbo is different. Yes, have studied for 
years, seen gamma section reports, but much of details of how he 
interprets thoughts is still not precisely known. Even more 
furthermore, Dalbo is different from current problem. He reads minds, 
not controls them."
	"So?"

	"Reading, very crude term, is a subject of sensory perception. 
Controlling is more active," said Levi.

	"But if you can block a mind reader, can't you block a mind 
controller?" said Croft.

	"Maybe, maybe not. Never met a mind controller before," said 
Levi. "Could be totally different methods. May not even use brain 
waves. You assume that using brain waves to control brain waves. May be 
entirely different method."

	"Well, that's a thought," said Croft, for once being 
unintentionally funny. "Are you saying you don't even have any idea 
where to start?"
	"To start would need readings from mind controller," said Levi.	

	"Well, that's simple enough, we'll just call him in and ask for 
some readings," said Croft. 

	"Hm," said Levi. He turned back to his food. Quick rubbed against 
his leg.

	"Levi?" said Croft.

	Levi turned back. "What?"
	"That's it?" said Croft.

	"You're still here?" Levi seemed genuinely surprised. "When you 
ready, when can locate, tell me, and I will tell you what equipment to 
use to measure readings."

	"Oh," said Croft, as Levi turned away. "Thanks. And I'm sorry if 
I've disrupted any important cooking. As long as the food is good here, 
there's no need to be concerned if the rest of August goes down the 
saniflush."

	"Sarcasm noted."

	Quick barked, and stuck his tongue out at Croft again.

	"Clever riposte," said Levi, reaching down to pet the little 
animal on the head. Quick wagged his tail vigorously and stuck out his 
tongue. "Good mutated dog!"

	"What do you think?" Waverly asked Croft, when they had left the 
cafeteria.

	"I think those two need to go and get a private room," said 
Croft. "Now let's see about our meetings."


Chapter 3: Who is Albert Wender?



	"He was always a good little boy," said Mrs. Wender.

	"Really?" said Croft. Croft, Preston and Agent Waverly were 
sitting in the household of Albert Wender's parents. Mrs. Wender was a 
kind looking woman with a thick line of bright red lipstick drawn in a 
circle all around the edges of her face, from above her eyebrows on her 
forehead around the sides of her eyes to just below her lips on her 
cheeks. She also wore her underwear on the outsides of her pants.

	"Yes, he was a good kid, wasn't he, Danber?" said Mrs. Wender.

	Mr. Wender, seeming to awaken from a slumber, said, "Yes, yes he 
was." He was dressed in an old fashioned clown suit, complete with an 
orange nose and painted eyebrows.

	"He has two assaults on his record," said Croft.

	"Oh, the charges were dropped on one of those," said Mrs. Wender. 
"And he was just a kid then."

	A chair faced away from all the participants in the conversation. 
Over the top of it the back of a head could be seen. Croft and the 
others didn't give it a second glance.

	"I see here he was age 28 and 34 for each arrest," said Croft.

	"Barely out of childhood," said Mrs. Wender.

	Croft eyed their unusual dress. "Mrs. Wender, have you seen your 
son recently?"

	"Why no," said Mrs. Wender, a frown forming which caused a crease 
in some of the lipstick that circled her face. "Why do you ask?"

	Croft looked at her outerwear and her husband's clown suit. "We'd 
like to talk to Albert. Do you know where he can be reached?"

	The chair facing away from them slowly spun around. The 
nondescript man was sitting in it. He stared right at them.

	Mr. Wender, sitting just a few feet from this occupied chair, 
said, "No, sorry, we don't know where Albert is."

	Croft and Preston exchanged glances. "We know your son left the 
Exploration Service recently."

	The nondescript man leaned forward in his chair. No one noticed.

	"Yes, that was a tragedy," said Mrs. Wender. She shook her head. 
"What terrible negligence."

	"Negligence?" said Croft.

	"The negligence of his crew," said Mrs. Wender. "If they hadn't 
been incompetent, they wouldn't have died."

	"Really?" said Croft. "Tell me more about this incompetence."

	The nondescript man stared sharply at Mrs. Wender.

	"Well... I wouldn't know anything about it," said Mrs. Wender.

	"Then how would you know it was negligence?" said Croft.

	Mrs. Wender paused noticeably for a moment. Then she said, 
"Albert told us it was, shortly after the accident. Didn't he, Danber?"

	"Yes, that's what he told us," said the man in the clown suit 
dully.

	Croft exchanged glances with Preston and Waverly. These people 
were obviously under mind control. If that was the case, Wender could 
be here, in this very house! They should search the house-

	"Are you sure he's not here?" said Croft.

	"I'm not here," said the nondescript man, in a soft, hypnotic 
voice. "I'm long gone."

	No, on second thought, there was no need to search the house, 
Croft realized. Wender wasn't here. He was long gone. Croft saw Waverly 
and Preston nod in agreement.

	"Yes, I'm sure," said Mrs. Wender. "I would know if Albert was 
here."

	Croft looked befuddled for a moment. Then, he recovered. "Ah... 
yes... where was I?"

	"Asking about Albert," said Mrs. Wender.

	"Yes, about Albert." Croft tried to concentrate. What had he been 
thinking? "So what else did he say to you about the accident?"

	"He didn't give any other details," said Mrs. Wender. "He didn't 
want to talk about it."

	"You should be going now," said the nondescript man.

	"We should be going now," said Croft. "Thank you for your time."



	As they left the home, the nondescript man followed them. When 
they got outside, Croft turned to Preston and Waverly. "Impressions?"

	"Obviously they were under mind control," said Preston.

	"Yes," said Preston. "Wender must have been there recently. It's 
a shame he wasn't there when we visited."

	"Yes," said Croft mechanically.
	"Perhaps you should take the parents in for an examination," said 
Agent Waverly.

	The nondescript man said something.

	"No, I don't think that would be useful," said Croft. "They will 
probably just be like Greens and the others."

	"You're probably right," said Agent Waverly, wondering why he had 
suggested it.

	"So what have we learned?" said Preston.

	"Well, I think if Wender had this skill all along, I think 
someone would have noticed his Dad wearing a clown suit before now," 
said Croft.

	"So this tends to confirm our working theory that whatever 
happened to Wender happened to him on his last mission," said Preston.

	"Yes," said Croft. "Let's go have a talk with the Exploration 
Service, shall we?"
	They got into their hovercar, Croft and Preston in the front and 
Waverly in the back. Waverly moved over so the nondescript man could 
also get in. He stared intently at the others in the car.

	As he drove Croft said, "I'm Clifford Croft, with the Column."

	The others said nothing. The nondescript man looked at Preston.

	"I'm Agent Preston, with the Column," said Preston.

	"I'm Agent Waverly, with the June Directorate," said Agent 
Waverly.

	 The nondescript man looked at Preston. "Croft is in charge 
because he's one of the Eight."

	The nondescript man looked at Croft.

	"I'm a top level one agent, one of the best," Croft said.

	There was another pause.

	"We think he can read and control minds. We're looking for him," 
said Croft.

	Another pause.

	"We found him because we spotted him on holorecordings with the 
victims," said Croft.

	Another pause.

	"We don't know what we'll do when we find him. We'll probably 
have to lock him up, at a minimum," said Croft.

	There was a longer pause, and Croft blinked. "This isn't the way 
to the Exploration Service. I've been going in the wrong direction." He 
grimaced, and made a turn at a corner, heading in another direction. 
"What were we talking about?"
	Waverly shrugged. Preston stared blankly.

	"Well, there is one thing we learned from the Wenders," said 
Croft.
	"What?" said Preston.

	"Wender said in his report that he had amnesia, that he didn't 
remember what had happened on his mission," said Croft. "But according 
to his parents, he told them that his crew's death had been caused by 
their negligence."

	"He knows exactly what happened," said Agent Waverly.

	"That's the logical conclusion, yes," said Croft.

	"But what could happen to a person to give him the ability to 
control minds?" Preston asked.

	"A good question," said Croft.

	The nondescript man sat back in silence.

	They reached the ornate headquarters of the Exploration Service, 
a large building with elaborate fountains in front of them, as well as 
a quarter scale model of a classic Explorer class vessel. They were 
small, three or four man ships, but designed to travel long distances 
in the vastness of space.

	Commander Ornat Rentlo had been Albert Wender's superior. He was 
also one of the officers on the commission investigating the causes of 
death of Wender's fellow crewmembers.

	Introductions were made courteously. Croft was relieved to see 
that Rentlo was dressed and acting normally, no clown suit, no 
overblown makeup, no underwear over outer garments. The nondescript man 
looked around but didn't find a chair available. Waverly decided to 
stand up and lean against a wall. The nondescript man took his seat.

	Croft started the questioning. "We have your written report," 
said Croft. "But can you tell us in your words what happened?"

	Rentlo nodded. "We sent a standard Explorer class vessel to an 
uncharted section of space. The trip was supposed to take two weeks, 
and the crew was supposed to spend about a month exploring before 
returning."

	"Those ships must be quick, if they can get out of known space in 
only two weeks," Croft remarked.

	"They are. Explorer class ships are built for speed," said 
Rentlo. "Most of the entire ship is engines, leaving little space for 
the crew. That's why we only fit three or four in a ship, and even then 
it's pretty cramped for them."

	"So what happened with this crew?" Croft asked.

	"They were two weeks overdue, and we hadn't heard anything from 
them. We were planning to launch a rescue expedition, when Wender's 
ship appeared in the main ship lanes. A League light cruiser boarded 
it, and space marines found Crewman Wender, unconscious. There was no 
sign of the rest of the crew," said Rentlo.

	"And the ship?" Croft asked.

	"There were no signs of struggle, or forced entry, or battle," 
said Rentlo. "The ship's log noted that the ship headed towards the 
assigned sector on one trajectory, made a few course corrections, and 
then returned."
	"That's it?" said Croft. "There was no record in the ship's log 
of landings on any other planet?"
	"No," said Rentlo.

	"No records of sensor blips, maybe intercepts with other ships?"
	"No," said Rentlo.

	"No unusual stellar phenomena, radiation, or anything unusual?" 
said Croft.

	"No," said Rentlo.

	"So if the ship never landed anywhere, what happened to the 
crew?" said Croft. "How did they even get off the ship, unless they 
simply stepped out of the airlock?"

	Rentlo paused before answering. "We simply don't know. A few 
weeks later we sent a followup ship on the same trajectory as Crewman 
Wender's ship. It returned a few days ago without reporting anything 
unusual."

	"And what of Wender himself?" Croft asked.

	"Aside from his amnesia, he was perfectly healthy. No sign of any 
trauma or drugs in his system. He remembered going out... and then he 
remembers coming back."

	"Did he seem odd, or changed?" Croft asked.

	Rentlo paused. "No, not changed."

	"That's funny," said Croft.

	"Why funny?" Rentlo asked.

	"Well, if I came back from a mission with a gap in my memory and 
my fellow crewmembers all gone, I would be a bit concerned. And if I 
resigned from the service all of a sudden, I would expect people to ask 
questions."
	"We did ask him questions," Rentlo frowned. "He didn't tell us 
anything useful."

	"Please let us be the judge of that," said Croft. "What exactly 
did he say when you asked him what happened?"

	"He didn't remember. Like I said, he remembered going out... and 
then he remembers coming back," Rentlo dully repeated.

	"But he didn't say anything about how his fellow crew 
disappeared?" said Croft.

	"No," said Rentlo. He paused again, "But he was an able 
commander. I doubt whatever happened was his fault."

	"What an odd thing to say," said Croft. 

	"Why?" Rentlo asked.

	"Well, how can you say it wasn't his fault when you don't know 
what happened?" Croft asked.

	"He was a very able member of our service," said Rentlo.

	"Commander," said Agent Waverly. "You called him commander. But 
he wasn't the commander of the mission. It was a Lieutenant Fuller, was 
it not?"

	"Ah, yes, that's correct," said Rentlo. 

	The nondescript man said something.

	"I misspoke; it was just a slip of the tongue." said Rentlo.

	"Yes," said Croft. "I can see it that you misspoke, that it was 
just a slip of the tongue," he repeated.

	The nondescript man looked keenly at Croft.

	"I can see there's nothing further to learn here," said Croft. He 
got up, and then blinked. There had actually been some more questions 
he had wanted to ask, but it probably would have been a waste of time 
to ask them.

	A waste of time? How could he know that?

	Croft looked around the room. He saw Rentlo, Preston, and 
Waverly. Croft had another thought. 

	"Would you mind if we-" he stopped, in insentience.

	Rentlo looked inquiringly at him.

	"...got a transcript of the report?" Croft asked, changing his 
sentence in midspeech.

	"We've already transmitted that to you, haven't we?" said Rentlo, 
looking confused.

	"Yes, so we have, my mistake, sorry," said Croft.

	They left and entered the hovercar. This time Waverly lay on the 
floor in the back while the nondescript man sat in the backseat with 
his feet on Waverly's chest. Neither Croft, Preston, or Waverly thought 
anything unusual about it.

	"What were you really going to ask Rentlo?" the nondescript man 
asked.

	"For permission to examine Wender's ship," said Croft, in a dull 
monotone.

	"You don't need to examine Wender's ship," said the nondescript 
man. "There's nothing to be learned there."

	"There's nothing to be learned there," Croft repeated.

	A few minutes later Croft stopped the hovercar at a street 
corner. The back door opened, and then closed. Waverly sat up in the 
back seat. Croft resumed driving. He pressed the accelerator.

	"So, impressions, anyone?" Croft asked.

	"Something must have happened on that mission," said Preston. "An 
entire crew simply doesn't disappear." He noticed that Croft seemed to 
be driving fast.

	"Something happened to change him," said Croft. "At this point, I 
don't think there's much else to investigate on this end." 

	"What do we do next?" Waverly asked.

	"I'll have to put my mind on it," said Croft. Croft gunned the 
car as they came to an intersection, where a holographic stop light was 
shining.

	"Hey, slow down," said Preston.

	"Why," Croft asked, still accelerating.

	"Croft!" Waverly yelled. 

	Preston attempted to reach for Croft, but it was too late.

	A car appeared ahead of them. Croft, still wondering what was 
going on, slammed into the rear of the car, sending both his and the 
target car spinning into the intersection. The car kept spinning until 
it slammed into a wall of a nearby building.

	Croft blacked out for a moment. When he awoke, he saw Preston 
looking over him. 

	"Croft? Croft?"


Chapter 4: The Search Continues



	"My neck still hurts me," Croft groaned, slowly rotating his 
head. 

	It was the following day. Preston, Croft, and Agent Waverly were 
sitting in an office in Column HQ.

	"We were very lucky that that was the most severe injury in both 
cars," said Agent Waverly.

	"Wender must have been controlling my mind," said Croft.

	"How?" said Preston. "Do you think he can control minds from a 
distance?"
	"Maybe," said Croft. "Or maybe he was in the car with us."

	"What? How?" said Preston.

	"If he can control our minds, conceivably he can tell us to 
ignore his presence," said Croft. He looked across his desk. "We could 
be staring at him right now and not even notice."

	"I was thinking the same thing," said Agent Waverly. "I think I 
was wondering if he was with us when we interviewed the Wenders. At the 
time I thought they were reacting to posthypnotic suggestion, but after 
the fact some of their artificial responses seemed... spontaneous."

	"I remember thinking the same thing," said Croft. "And then I 
remembered thinking that he couldn't possibly be there. Why did I think 
that? Perhaps because he told me to."

	"We can't be constantly second guessing our thoughts," said Agent 
Waverly.

	"Our thought processes are all suspect now," said Preston. "We 
don't know what's really happening and what's not."

	"All right, let's put the brakes on the hysteria," said Croft. 
"Until we know otherwise, we have to presume that we are experiencing 
our own thoughts right now. Wender can't be everywhere at the same 
time."

	"So far there's been no sign of him," said Preston. " His 
holoimage has been sent to all law enforcement units.  If he's on 
August, he's evading the security forces of the entire planet."

	"Probably not a very difficult thing for someone to do if he can 
control minds," said Croft. "If a policeman recognizes him, and moves 
to arrest him, what do you think will happen?"

	"He'll take over the policeman's mind, and make him go away," 
said Agent Waverly.

	"Wender will not only make the policeman go away," said Croft. 
"Wender will make him forget he ever saw him. He probably did the same 
to us yesterday when we were with his parents. Come to think of it, 
Commander Rentlo was acting strange as well. Wender was probably in the 
room with us the whole time."

	"He could be here now," said Preston.

	"He could be," said Croft. "But we have to proceed as if he's 
not, unless we're ready to give up."

	His wristcomm bleeped. "Yes?" said Croft, speaking into it.

	The other end was not audible to the others.

	"Not now, Levi. I don't have time for a cooking show," said 
Croft.

	A tiny voice came through the other end.

	"All right," Croft grimaced. He turned to a nearby holoreceiver.

	"What is it?" said Preston.

	"Levi wants us to watch a cooking show or something," said Croft. 
He turned to a channel, and the image of Tony Spagetti, the most famous 
chef on August, appeared on the screen.

	"I call this my pineapple surprise," said Spagetti, grinning 
wildly. He poured a half glass of pineapple juice into a blender.

	Croft spoke into his wristcomm. "Levi, I know his show gets good 
ratings, but this isn't really my sort of thing."

	"Then you add a bit of sugar," said Spagetti, holding up two dead 
rats. He put them in the blender. 

	Croft, who had been reaching forward to change the channel, 
stopped. 

	"Then you add a fair amount of lemon juice," said Spagetti, and 
at that point he did something totally unexpected: he dropped his 
pants.

	Then, if possible, he did something even more unexpected. He 
urinated into the blender.

	A tiny voice came out of his comm. "All right, all right," Croft 
said, speaking to Levi over the open line. "I gather this is not one of 
his more exotic recipes?" They heard a tinny but angry reply. Croft 
responded, "Sorry, I just wanted to be sure. You know how exotic some 
of these chefs can be."

	Croft watched with a mixture of fascination and disgust as 
Spagetti, still maintaining his poise, raised his pants and started the 
blender, acting like nothing unusual had happened. It whirred merrily 
for a moment as the pineapple juice, rat parts, and chef urine mixed 
together.

	Then Spagetti took the black and yellow mixture and poured it 
into a large cup. He held it up to the light. "Looks delicious, eh?" 

	He raised it to his mouth.

	Two stage assistants raced out and grabbed his arms. "No, no!" 
Spagetti yelled. Spagetti struggled to get the glass to his lips. There 
were shouts, and the contents of the glass splashed on one of the 
production assistants, there was a loud yell, and then a still image 
replaced the live feed, with the written message "Technical 
difficulties, please stand by" appearing on the holoscreen.

	 

	"Very odd," said Agent Waverly. 

	"It's not exactly what you'd expect from a gourmet chef," said 
Croft. "On the other hand, it is ratings week."

	Waverly stared at Croft with sharp eyes, and for a brief moment 
he reminded Croft of Steven Quick. Quick, of course, had silvery eyes 
and was a supergenius; but his top men, including Waverly, were also 
selected for their thinking ability.

	"Consider the irrationality of it all," said Agent Waverly. 
"There is no consistent pattern. He blacks out part of August, to 
demonstrate his ability. He maliciously kills the crew of a cargo ship. 
But then he does harmless things, like this."

	"He doesn't care if he does harm or not," said Croft. "Bender's a 
prankster, albeit an incredibly dangerous one."
	"Bender?" said Preston.
	"Wender," said Croft.  "But that's what he is, a Mind Bender." He 
turned to Waverly. "He tried to have us killed by having me crash our 
hovercar. Why did he choose that method?"

	"To make it look like an accident, perhaps," said Agent Waverly.

	"Look at this man; is anything he does subtle?" said Croft. "If 
anything, he's trying to broadcast his abilities, not hide them. If he 
wanted us dead, he would have had us shoot each other with our 
blasters."
	"Are you suggesting he didn't mean to kill us?" Waverly said.

	"I'm suggesting he didn't care," said Croft. "He just thought it 
would be amusing to put us in a car crash. And that's why you can't 
find a pattern. Because there is no pattern. He's just amusing himself. 
I don't see any higher agendas; no blackmail demands, no puppets 
pulling the strings."

	"At this point I would tend to concur," said Agent Waverly. "But 
this is an extraordinarily dangerous prankster. What if he suggests to 
an army officer that he detonate a blockbuster bomb here in the heart 
of Sarney Sarittenden?"

	"That's why we have to stop him," said Croft.

	"We're all helpless against him," said Agent Waverly. "I don't 
know how."

	"Well, we'll have to give it some thought," said Croft. "I know 
someone who may be able to help."

	"Your Graftonite friend?" said Agent Waverly.

	"How did you know?" said Croft, looking surprised.

	"It's one of your classic moves," said Agent Waverly. He gave 
Croft a thoughtful look. "When things get tough, you turn to the 
Graftonite."

	"I have somehow managed to accomplished one or two minor things 
on my own without his help," said Croft dryly.

	"Go ahead and contact him," said Agent Waverly, ignoring the hurt 
feelings. "If you don't mind, I'm going to file a report with center 
and request further guidance."

	"You do that," said Croft. "Get some guidance."

	As Waverly left, Croft pressed a series of buttons on his 
holotransmitter. In a minute the holoimage of a Graftonite bounty 
hunter appeared on his holoviewer. Not just any Graftonite bounty 
hunter; this was The Silencer, perhaps the most famous bounty hunter of 
all. Graftonites were mercenary gunmen who could be hired for all sorts 
of tasks; they were highly desired because they had superfast quickdraw 
reflexes, making them difficult to kill.

	"Croft," said the Silencer non-commentally. That was his way of 
saying hello.

	"John," said Croft. "I'm glad I caught you between jobs."

	"I'm actually taking a few days off before my next one," said the 
Silencer. "Annie wants to go to a gun festival outside of Regular."

	"That's nice," said Croft, automatically falling into liespeak.

	"What do you want, Croft?"

	"We have a little problem here on August," said Croft.

	"If it's so small, I'm sure you can handle it," said the 
Silencer, turning Croft's lie against him.

	"Maybe not so small," said Croft, quickly backpedaling. "We may, 
ah, have a guy running around who can control peoples' minds."

	"I always thought your League minds were rather pliable to begin 
with," said the Silencer.

	"This isn't funny, John. A number of people have already been 
killed. This guy tells you to do something, to jump off a cliff, and 
you jump off a cliff," said Croft.

	"It makes one want to stick to the lowlands," the Silencer said 
dryly.

	"I need your help," Croft persisted.

	"Sorry, but no thanks," said the Silencer.

	"I realize you're busy with your gun festival and all, but I'll 
make it worth your while." Croft wet his lips. "We'll double your 
normal fee."

	"Not interested," said the Silencer.

	Croft paused. "Triple."

	The Silencer shook his head. "If what you're telling me is really 
true, I don't think anyone could stand a chance against him. No matter 
how fast a gunslinger is, no one can move faster than a human thought."
	"So you're afraid?" said Croft.

	The Silencer gave him a deadly look. "Don't push me, Croft. You 
may think you're safe because you're talking to me on a holocom, but if 
you push me enough, I'll come to August to teach you some manners."

	"You would actually kill me?" Croft asked. "Without getting paid 
for it?"

	"I've been known to do some pro bono work when the mood strikes 
me," said the Silencer. He stared hard at Croft. After a moment, he 
appeared to calm down. "Please don't spread that around, of course."

	"Oh, of course," said Croft. He knew that any rumor that the 
Silencer would lower his prices or perform a service for free would 
hurt his reputation. "So about stopping this mind control guy...."

	The Silencer cut him off, but a little more gently this time. 
"I'm not the right man for this job. Do you want my professional 
opinion?"
	"Sure," Croft said, shrugging.

	"Find out where he is, and drop a large blockbuster bomb on him."

	That was his professional opinion? Maybe, coming from the 
Silencer, it was. "John, ah, I don't quite know how to tell you this, 
but we're not in the underpopulated grasslands of Grafton II, we're in 
the heart of August, with the most dense population density in the 
galaxy. A blockbuster bomb would kill a lot of other people," said 
Croft.

	The Silencer shrugged. Without a further word, he closed 
communications, and his image faded.

	"Well, that was productive," said Croft, with the usual amount of 
irony in his tone.

	He and Preston chatted for a few minutes before Agent Waverly 
returned.

	"I've just spoken with Director Quick."

	"It's impressive that you got through," said Croft. "I know he's 
a busy man."
	"He is," said Agent Waverly. "And he wants to speak to you."

	"To me?" said Croft, his eyebrows raised.

	Waverly pressed a few buttons on a nearby holoconsole. In seconds 
the holoimage of Steven Quick, the ruler of all the June Directorate, 
appeared.

	Croft tried not to stare at those silvery eyes. 

	"Croft," said Quick simply.

	"Director Quick," said Croft.

	Quick smiled. "I hear you're having a spot of trouble."

	"Actually, for the record, you heard about it first and informed 
us," said Croft. "Very nice of you to do that, by the way."

	"We're allies, aren't we?" said Quick.

	"That's what I keep telling myself," said Croft. "But 
historically you don't like to use outside help."

	"Well, we make a special exception, where you're involved," said 
Quick. "I can personally vouch for your ability."

	"Thanks," said Croft. "Ah, was there something you wanted to tell 
me?"

	Quick smiled. "It's beyond obvious to say that this individual 
has to be apprehended."

	"Got any ideas on how to do that?"

	"I'm formulating possibilities," said Quick. "But first you need 
to be able to locate him."

	"How do we do that?" Croft said. "He can walk through our 
security forces effortlessly."
	"It's very simple," said Quick. "You need to know where he is 
going to be before he does."

	"And how do we-" Croft stopped in midsentence. "You want us to 
use Mongo. That's why you contacted me, to use Dalbo and Mongo."

	Quick looked hurt. "Clifford, after all we've been through, do 
you really think we were just-"

	"Yes," said Croft. "Now it finally makes sense."

	"Well, if it makes you feel any better, we've been using your 
skills as well," said Quick. "Because if you don't stop this menace, he 
may come over to one of my planets and start to turn things upside 
down."

	"Assuming we can get to him before he strikes, what would you 
have us do?" Croft asked.

	"Use the advantage of surprise, and ambush him," said Quick.

	"Ambush?"

	"Terminate him, Clifford," said Quick, his silvery eyes shining.

	"Uhhhh....."

	"I don't like killing any more than you do," said Quick. "But 
this individual murdered an entire crew of a cargo ship. From what I 
hear he just tried to murder you, not to mention one of my very 
valuable agents. There's no way you can safely contain him if you 
capture him. You have to eliminate him, Clifford."

	"But what about his ability? Aren't you curious-"

	"Save your curiosity for the autopsy, Clifford," said Quick.

	"That's a catchy slogan," said Croft. "Would you mind if I-"
	A voice spoke off screen. Quick turned away for a moment, and 
then turned back to him. "Clifford, I have to go. Report back when it's 
done."

	His image faded.

	Croft turned to Waverly. "I presume that part about reporting 
back was directed to you, or someone else who works for him."
	Waverly gave a small grin.

	Preston turned to Croft. "So he knows about Mongo; is there any 
of our super secret gamma operatives he doesn't know about?"
	Croft turned to Waverly, but Waverly simply gave an innocent 
shrug.



	"Yes, yes, Mongo knows that the Croft comes back, Mongo knows," 
said Mongo, clearly relishing the most recent turn of events. "Mongo 
knew, when he came for the picky one, that the picky one would not be 
able to help. Mongo say so; but did they listen to Mongo? No, oh no."

	They were back in the gamma section, or the institute, as it was 
also called, deep in the heart of Column HQ. 

	"Well, we're listening to you now," said Croft, somehow wishing 
he weren't..

	"Yes, yes, when the Croft wants something, the Croft listens, he 
always listens, yes. But when was last time the Croft came to just say 
hello? When was last time the Croft asks, he asks, 'Mongo, how are you 
doing today? Is there anything you need'?"

	"Hello," said Croft.

	Mongo stared at him expectantly.

	"How are you doing today?"

	"This environment is boring, yes. Food is bad, company is worse. 
If Mongo could just show you his decrepit quarters-"

	"Is there anything you need?" Croft asked.

	Mongo hissed. "Mongo wants to live elsewhere, in better room  
with better food."

	"A better room with better food," said Croft.

	"With a view, yes a view of August."
	"A view."

	"Mighty view, must be higher up than all others."
	"Higher."

	"But not so high that affects Mongo's fear of heights."
	"Very high, but not so high," said Croft.

	"And servants! Must have servants too," said Mongo. "Women, in 
tight fitting uniforms, yes."

	"Women, tight fitting servants, got it," said Croft. What little 
feigned enthusiasm and sincerity there was in his voice ran dry. "Now 
that we've covered all that, I need your help."

	"No! Will not give it!" said Mongo resolutely. "Will escape, run 
away, before helping the mean and uncaring Croft."

	"Escape?" said Croft.

	"You don't think Mongo can escape?" Mongo's eyes grew wide. "You 
think, you may think, 'Gamma section locked up, many thick doors, many 
equally thick guards'. But Mongo knows how to escape, yes, Mongo knows 
ways to get away."

	"So you can actually see a future where you escape?" Croft asked.

	"Yes, many futures, Mongo sees many futures where Mongo escapes 
and all is bright and happy," said Mongo.

	"And in any of those futures, do you not see me hunting you 
down?"
	Mongo hissed, but didn't answer.

	"Well?"

	"What does the Croft want?" Mongo finally said.

	"The Croft wants to take you on a little drive," said Croft.

	"Do you have to go through this every time?" Waverly whispered, 
as they walked out of the gamma section together.

	"This was relatively quick," said Croft.

	



	"Have you seen anything yet?" Croft asked. He was driving a 
hovercar with Preston, Waverly, and Mongo. They had been driving almost 
randomly around Sarney Sarittenden for the past hour. Mongo, 
unfortunately, needed to be near either the person or the scene of the 
event he wished to see the future of; and even so, his flashes of 
insight were infrequent, unpredictable, and sometimes even wrong.

	"Mongo seen anything? What sort of anything?" Mongo inquired. He 
was sitting in the back seat, idly flicking through holochannels on the 
small holoreceiver there.

	Croft sighed. He thought he had already explained. Actually, he 
had. Well, there was nothing to do but to explain again.

	"People acting weirdly, doing odd things."

	"All peoples are weird," said Mongo. "Only Mongo is normal," he 
added.

	"Yes, we already know that," said Croft. "But I'm looking for 
really weird, really unusual."

	"I see something," said Mongo. staring forward suddenly.

	Croft stopped the hovercar and turned around to face Mongo in the 
back seat. "What?"

	"Sports peoples."

	"What kind of sports peoples? What about them?"

	"Anti-gravity ball players, playing with silly orange bouncy 
balls," said Mongo. "Doing strange things, putting balls in baskets."

	"What's strange about that?" said Croft.

	"Putting balls in own team's baskets to score points for other 
side," said Mongo. "Strange, even for August peoples."

	"That is strange," said Croft, trying to contain his excitement. 
It sounded like something the Mind Bender would do. "When will this 
happen?"

	"Already happening."

	"Already... what?" Mongo usually predicted events that hadn't yet 
happened.

	"Look," said Mongo, pointing with a bony finger at the 
holoreceiver.

	Croft turned his gaze a few inches to see players, jumping up and 
down in the near zero gravity of the Sarney Sarittenden arena, scoring 
points against their own teams. The audience was alternatively laughing 
and booing.

	Mongo hadn't predicted anything at all. He had simply seen it on 
the holoplayer.

	"The Croft looks unhappy," said Mongo. "Was this not the kind of 
strangeness that he seeks?"

	"Yes," said Croft. "But we want to learn about the strangeness 
before it happens."

	"Oh. The Croft did not specify that," said Mongo.

	"The Croft most definitely did," said Croft.
	"Did not," said Mongo defiantly. "He says, the Croft he says, 
'Mongo, tell me where strangeness occurs.' No other details given. What 
is strange? What is not strange? How is Mongo to know? How is Mongo to 
know what the Croft, who himself is strange, will think is strange? No, 
no no, nice Croft must make Mongo guess. And does Mongo receive any 
thanks for trying? No, no thanks, no, never any thanks."

	"Well, I'm telling you now," said Croft, reaching back and 
clicking off the holoreceiver. "And I'm thanking you in advance."

	"Mongo would like sincere thanks," said Mongo. "Something, maybe, 
with sweeter tone of voice-"

	"Mongo!" said Croft.

	"Mongo working," said Mongo, immediately looking out the window.

	

	They drove around for a while more. Then Mongo suddenly sat 
upright outside a small restaurant. 

	"Ice cream!" said Mongo. He looked very animated.

	"Something's going to happen in this restaurant?" Agent Waverly 
asked. He peered as best he could at the restaurant.

	"No, he just wants some ice cream," said Croft.

	"No, something will happen!" said Mongo.

	"What?" said Croft, momentarily stopping the hovercar.

	Mongo was silent for a moment, as if concentrating.

	"What will happen?" said Croft again.

	"Mongo sees... ice cream," said Mongo.

	"See?" said Croft, to the others.

	"Mongo sees... people eating ice cream," said Mongo.

	"That's it?" said Croft.

	"No, no," said Mongo. "Then... people eat ice cream, but then, 
but then... people throw ice cream, at each other. Chocolate, vanilla, 
strawberry, yes, strawberry!"

	"All right," said Croft, starting the hovercar moving again.

	"Croft, are you sure there wasn't something about to go on 
there?" Waverly asked.

	"No," said Croft. "He just wanted ice cream."

	

	They drove on for several more hours. Mongo started to get 
restless, shifting back and forth in the car. He produced several more 
"sightings", but they all involved ice cream, other sweet foods, a 
circus, and a holomovie theater, all of which, given Mongo's known 
likes, were suspect reportings.

	"Mongo getting tired," said Mongo, squirming around in the back 
seat.

	"Yes, it must be tiring thinking of ice cream full time," said 
Croft.

	"Mongo working hard!" said Mongo. "Very tiring, mentally tiring, 
to see what might be. But Croft wouldn't know that, no, Croft, with 
simple mind that sees so little, expects immediate results."

	"Maybe we should take a break," said Agent Waverly.

	Suddenly Mongo stiffened, sitting upright.

	"You think he's excited about taking a break?" said Preston.

	"Museum," Mongo whispered, pointing a bony finger across the 
street. 

	"What's going to happen?" said Croft.

	"Crazy things," Mongo said. "Crazy things, very soon. Must 
hurry."

	Agent Waverly exchanged glances with Croft. "You think it's 
legitimate?"	

	"It might be," said Croft. "He doesn't like museums."



	They entered the museum, the Sarney Sarittenden Center for Post 
Contemporary Art. Paintings filled the walls. Many of the paintings 
were single color. People stood admiringly around one that was all 
purple, murmuring about its artistic properties.

	"You're right, that is strange behavior," said Croft, with a 
straight face.

	Agent Waverly suppressed a smile.

	Some of the paintings were slightly more creative, with 
occasional horizontal or vertical stripes running across them. Visitors 
marveled at the simplicity of the lines.

	"Be on the lookout for the Mind Bender," said Croft. "If you see 
him, don't engage him in conversation. Shoot him before he shoots you."

	"Should we set to stun, or to kill?" said Preston.

	Croft paused, but only for a moment. "For stun, for now."
	"If we do succeed in capturing him, he's going to overpower us 
the minute he wakes up," said Agent Waverly. 

	"He can be kept unconscious through the use of drugs," said 
Croft.

	"It's not safe," said Agent Waverly.

	"Agent Waverly, you're not under my authority, so I can't tell 
you what to do," said Croft. "But I can tell you that if you kill this 
man without my prior approval, I will have to shoot you."

	"He will do it, yes, he will," said Mongo. "He has shot Mongo, 
maaaaany many times before."

	"Once or twice over a period of decades," said Croft. "And it was 
always set on stun."

	"So gentle, yes, the Croft is very gentle," Mongo hissed. 

	"So Mongo, where is he going to be? This is a big museum," said 
Croft, as they wandered from room to room. They wandered right past a 
nondescript man, without noticing him.

	"Mongo concentrates," said Mongo. He closed his eyes, and then 
opens them. "Mongo sees strangeness in a room."
	"In a room? Which room. This museum has about 400 of them," said 
Croft. "Can you give me any detail?"

	Mongo concentrated. "Mongo sees... room with silly paintings."

	"Well, I suppose that eliminates the bathroom," said Croft.

	Mongo concentrated some more. "Mongo sees... this room."

	"This room?" Croft spun around, his hand on his blaster inside 
his jacket. He looked at and then past the nondescript man. So did 
Preston and Agent Waverly.

	Suddenly, a curator came in, carrying a trash can filled to 
capacity. In fact, overfilled. Scraps of rotting food fell to the 
ground as the curator carried it to the center of the room. The curator 
dropped it with a clang in the center of the room.

	Croft, Preston and Waverly noticed this, but kept their eye out 
for the Mind Bender.

	A crowd started to gather around the trash can. "And here we have 
our latest work of art," said the curator. He pointed to the dirty 
trash can. Flies buzzed around the surface, and the smell of old food 
wafted from it.

	"Magnificent, isn't it?" the curator smiled, and the crowd nodded 
appreciatively.

	"I don't see anything unusual," said Croft, looking around. "Do 
you, Waverly?"

	"No," said Agent Waverly.

	Croft turned to Mongo. "When is this strange thing going to 
happen?"

	Mongo shrugged.

	"By all means, please take a sample," said the smiling curator.

	The crowd tentatively moved forward, with individuals scooping 
out a handful of rubbish. The smelly goo smeared on their hands. The 
patrons rubbed it on their clothes, and sniffed the aroma. It smelled 
like sweet grapes to them.

	Preston turned towards the garbage can, took a step.

	"Where are you going?" Croft asked.

	"It looks good, I thought I'd try some," said Preston.

	"Oh," said Croft. It wasn't his idea of art, but different people 
had different tastes.

	Preston took some of the goo from the trash and rubbed it on his 
shirt. He gave a wide, moronic smile.

	Croft frowned. There was something odd about what Preston was 
doing, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

	Preston dipped a finger into the goo on his shirt, and put it in 
his mouth. "Mmmm," said Preston.	

	Croft was about to say something, when the nondescript man, who 
was standing to his side, spoke.

	"Everything is fine. It's just an artistic thing."

	Croft closed his mouth. Whatever thought had occurred to him had 
just disappeared. What had he been thinking of? He watched Preston, 
smiling, as he sucked on the goo.

	The nondescript man filtered around the room, whispering. Patrons 
turned away from the garbage can and turned to the paintings on the 
wall. First one and then other patrons started to splash the artwork 
with the goo from the garbage can.

	Waverly eyed this with only slight curiosity. 

	"It's only performance art," whispered the nondescript man by his 
elbow.

	A patron took down one of the paintings and put his foot through 
it. Other visitors stared, as if in shock, and then, one by one, they 
started clapping.

	More and more patrons took down artwork, some helped by museum 
guards, and started stomping on it.

	Croft checked his chrono. "Mongo, when is something going to 
happen?"
	Mongo shrugged.

	Croft watched the curator rip a priceless painting. "We'll wait a 
few more minutes for something unusual to happen, and then we'll go."

	"Could he have been wrong?" said Agent Waverly, also watching the 
curator rip the painting.

	"He isn't always right," said Croft. "It could have been another 
art museum, or something else."
	There was a loud ripping sound as a canvas was torn in half, and 
a gleeful crowd of artsy types cheered.





	When they returned to Column HQ, one of the operatives on their 
team told them, "Did you hear what happened at the art museum?"

	Croft and Waverly looked at each other "Which art museum?"

	"The Center for Post Contemporary Art," said the operative. 
"We've just received reports of massive destruction of artwork there."

	"We were just there," said Croft. "We didn't see anything. It 
must have happened after we left."

	The operative said, "There were also reports of people covering 
themselves with garbage and-" he stopped when he saw Preston. Preston, 
whose shirt was covered in garbage. "What happened to you?"

	"What do you mean?" said Preston.

	"There's junk on your shirt," said the operative.

	"Junk?" said Preston. He looked down, and stared.

	Suddenly, Croft blinked. "Preston!" he shouted.

	Preston involuntarily jumped in the air. "There's all kind of 
garbage on my shirt!"

	"Yes, and you put it there," said Croft. "You took it out of a 
garbage can, remember?"

	"Yeah, but I thought...."

	"Thought what?" said Croft.

	"It was some artsy thing...."
	"It wasn't," said Croft grimly.

	"I remember now," said Agent Waverly. "I mean, I remember 
everything that happened there, but it's all different, now. I thought 
we were watching some kind of performance art."

	"They were smearing themselves with garbage and ripping up 
painting, right in front of us," said Croft. "And we thought it was 
performance art."

	"Yes, yes, performance art," said Mongo. "Very amusing, Mongo 
likes." He gave them all wide smiles.
	Waverly looked at Mongo. "It's worn off on us, how come it hasn't 
on him?"

	"Oh, it's worn off on him too," Croft said wearily. This wasn't 
the time to get into a detailed explanation of Mongo's artistic tastes.

	"Well, at least this fits the pattern," said Agent Waverly. 
"Whatever suggestion we're given seems to wear off in time, especially 
if we're told that's something's wrong."

	"Very comforting," said Croft.

	"What's amazing is that he had the ability to control an entire 
room full of people," said Agent Waverly. "That makes him even more 
dangerous than I thought."

	Suddenly, Preston realized he had an odd taste in his mouth, and 
he ran off.

	"Where did he go?" Waverly asked.

	"I think he just realized that he sampled some of the art," said 
Croft.



	"This is disgraceful," said the Chief. He was watching the 
holovideo of the security cam from the museum. He saw it all--people 
ripping up the paintings, while Croft, Waverly, Preston, and Mongo just 
stood there.

	"I agree, it's not my best side," said Croft, squinting at his 
image on the holo.

	"This isn't funny, Croft," said A.A.

	"Bad art rarely is, Chief," said Croft. Before A.A. could speak 
again, Croft added, "What did you expect us to do? We were under mind 
control, like all the rest."

	"You have to figure out how to stop him," said the Chief. 
Suddenly, there was a buzz on his comm. "Yes?"

	The Chief read a message that appeared on his holodisplay. It was 
set for one way, so Croft couldn't read it from his side of the desk.

	"A League destroyer has just defected to the Slurians," said the 
Chief.

	"What?" said Croft. That was unheard of.

	"The Captain made a broadcast, saying the League was corrupt and 
effete, and that he and his crew were joining up with the Slurians."

	"How could this happen?" said Croft.

	"I don't think there's any reason to guess," said the Chief. He 
pressed a button, and Croft saw a holoimage of the Captain's broadcast. 
The Captain spoke slowly, haltingly, staring into space as he spoke.

	"He obviously looks drugged," said Croft. "The Slurians must 
have-"

	"The Slurians did nothing," said the Chief. "This broadcast was 
made before they surrendered."

	"Before," said Croft. "Wender?"
	"Undoubtedly," said A.A.

	"But... to control the entire crew of a destroyer?"

	"This man has to be stopped," said the Chief. "And I mean stopped 
now."

	"It's a little difficult, sir," said Croft. "If he sees us 
coming, we don't stand a chance."

	"Then don't let him see you coming," said the Chief. He drummed 
his fingers on his desk. "You are now authorized to terminate him."

	"You don't want him alive?"

	"He's too dangerous," said the Chief.

	"Why is everyone telling me to kill him?"

	"Just because he doesn't have a blaster pointing at you doesn't 
make him any less dangerous than a Graftonite killer," said the Chief. 
"In fact, he's even more dangerous than a Graftonite killer. A 
Graftonite killer we could stop."

	"How?" said Croft.

	"With another Graftonite killer, of course," said the Chief. 
"Unfortunately we do not have one of his kind in our arsenal," he 
added, referring to Wender.

	"All right," said Croft, getting up.

	"I'm not removing you from the case, but I'm assigning all 
available teams to hunt down and eliminate this individual," said the 
Chief. 

	"Understood," said Croft.

	An entire destroyer crew. What were the limits of this man's 
mind?


Chapter 5: Platform #8 is Falling



	"Does this look strange to you?" said Croft. 

	He stood with Agent Waverly in a large banquet hall. A benefit 
was being held to raise money for the zero gravity ballet. Very fancy-
fancy men in fancy tuxedos and women in even fancier dresses were 
milling about.

	Except the men weren't wearing any pants. Or underwear. And the 
women had ripped off the bottoms of their dresses.

	And all their buttocks were colored purple. 

	"Yes, this looks strange to me," said Agent Waverly.

	A long line of people were waiting for something. Croft and 
Waverly went to the front of the line. A distinguished gentleman, 
presumably the host, was sitting on a chair. A guest would lie down on 
his lap, and he would wack their bare bottom with his hand.

	"Thank you very much!" the guest smiled, getting up gracefully, 
so the next person could take her turn.

	"This Mind Bender seems to have fetishes about nudity, and 
embarrassment," said Agent Waverly, watching the spankings 
dispassionately.

	"And League destroyers," said Croft.

	"That wasn't so nice," said Agent Waverly. "But it just proves 
how erratic he is. One moment he is engaged in the silly, and the next 
something serious or deadly."

	"The crew of the destroyer wasn't so amused," said Croft. "When 
Wender's suggestion wore off, they found themselves the prisoners of 
the Slurians."

	"Are you going to get them back?"

	"We'll probably have to give the Slurians something in return," 
said Croft. "Some political or economic concession. But they'll have a 
field day with our destroyer. It was one of our most modern ones."

	Croft and Waverly passed a station where guests were bending over 
to have their buttocks painted with a purplish substance.

	"I also notice he seems to like purple," said Agent Waverly.

	"I don't know what possible use that information is," said Croft, 
watching someone's tush get painted purple.	

	"I'm just trying to build a complete profile," said Agent 
Waverly.

	"But you think this is all strange, right?" said Croft anxiously.

	"Definitely," said Agent Waverly, watching a guest get up, with 
paint dripping from his buttocks, as he thanked his illustrator.

	"So that means Wender isn't here," said Croft. "If he were here, 
we would be thinking that this is normal."

	"Not necessarily," said Agent Waverly. "He might want us to be 
aware enough to admire his work."

	"No," said Croft. "If he were here, we'd be getting our bottoms 
painted purple and we'd never wonder about it."

	"Perhaps you are correct," said Agent Waverly.



	They returned to Column HQ.  Preston gave them an update. "The 
news networks are being flooded with false stories."

	"What kind of stories?" Croft asked. He eyed Mongo, sitting in a 
corner, muttering to himself. 

	"Well, let 's see." Preston checked a datapad. "August is about 
to crash into the sun. Free money is being given out at the Palace. 
August is officially being turned over to Sluria. The Secretary of 
Foreign Affairs is having a secret love affair with a mutated goat."

	"That last one has a ring of truth to it," said Croft. 

	They stared at him.

	"It does, sort of," said Croft. He had always had his suspicions 
of the Foreign Affairs Secretary. Croft wondered for a split second if 
he should edit what he said before saying the first thing that came to 
mind. No, he decided, honesty and expressiveness was always the best 
policy.

	Preston said, "In each case the false news story is 
professionally written, with details, in a serious tone, like a real 
article."

	"Why aren't editors pulling these articles before they're 
published?" said Croft.

	"He's gotten to the editors too," said Preston. "The stories are 
pulled once they start getting complaints, but each story can be out 
there a while before someone with a brain notices."

	Croft knew how rare and far between those kind of people were 
"Which news service was affected?" Croft asked.

	"It's not just one news service, it's a bunch of them. The Mind 
Bender has had a busy day," said Preston grimly.

	"Yes, he has," said Croft.

	At that moment the nondescript man casually walked into the 
office.

	"None of you see me," he said, equally casually. He walked right 
by Croft without Croft giving him a glance, and made his way to the 
area where the agents were sitting. The nondescript man made a few 
whispered suggestions.

	One agent wrote a short letter saying that he was a secret 
operative with the Column. Then he arranged to have this letter 
published on a public electronic message board that all could see.

	Another operative located a series of electronic files, and then, 
in bunches, started transmitting them. 

	To Sluria.

	"We have to figure out where he will strike next," said Croft, 
trying to think. 

	"I don't think you can figure it out," said Agent Waverly.

	"Why not?" Croft asked, genuinely curious. It seemed an odd thing 
for Waverly to say.

	Someone whispered something in the background.

	"Because you're an idiot," said Agent Waverly, somewhat 
mechanically.

	"Yes, I am an idiot," said Croft, nodding sagely.

	Preston wrote the word IDIOT in big letters on a piece of paper. 
Then he taped it to Croft's shirt.

	"That was helpful, thank you," said Croft politely. Then, "Think, 
people, think! How do we stop him?"

	Suddenly alarm bells rang. Agents rushed into the room.

	"What's going on?" said Croft.

	One of the agents looked at Croft, with the big idiot sign on 
him. "Secure data is being transmitted to the Slurians."

	"From where?"

	"From this room!" said the agent. He raced passed Croft to an 
agent, who was still typing away, until the agents grabbed him.

	"It's the Mind Bender, he's here!" said Croft. He activated his 
comm. "Monitoring station four, do you see him?"

	"Checking." There was a short wait, while, at a remote location, 
the room was scanned by other operatives. They had been given a holo of 
Wender's appearance, but there were a lot of agents in the room.

	"Negative," said the voice. "But are you aware that you are 
wearing a big sign that says "Idiot"?"

	Croft looked down, and, suddenly noticing it, ripped it off. "Go 
to storage backup, and review the past thirty minutes."

	"Standby," said the voice.

	Croft looked at the piece of paper, and crumpled it. "He was 
here, right here, and we didn't even notice it."
	"It certainly looks that way," said Preston.

	"Mongo!" said Croft.

	Mongo looked up. Mongo was probably affected like the rest of 
them, but maybe, while Wender was here, he had an incidental 
thought....

	"Mongo, did you see the strange man?" Croft asked.

	"Strange man," said Mongo, in a low voice. "Yes, I saw the 
strange man."

	"Can you tell me what he's going to do next, where he will be?" 
Croft asked.

	"Strange man... will be on atmospheric platform 8, in one hour," 
said Mongo, in a dull tone.

	Something sounded off. Not what Mongo was saying it, but how he 
was saying it. Usually Mongo wasn't so... direct. He had to be prodded, 
cajoled.

	"Mongo, are you sure Wender-"

	Someone on the far side of the room drew a blaster and fired at 
Croft. The blast hit Croft's desk. He ducked.

	The person kept firing. An agent fired back, hitting the 
attacker. The attacker fell to the ground.

	"Clear," someone said.

	Croft got up. "Who was it?"

	They looked. It was one of their agents.

	Croft said, "Undoubtedly before the Mind Bender left us, he made 
a number of suggestions meant to take effect after he left. But how did 
Wender trigger-"
	Another agent whipped out his blaster. Croft, a little quicker 
this time, ducked behind his desk before the agent could fire at him. 
The agent fired, the bolt grazing the top of Croft's desk. Another 
operative fired, stunning the latest attacker.

	"I think we've found the keyword," said Agent Waverly.

	Croft, his blaster drawn, peered up from behind his desk. 
"Wender!" he said again.

	Suddenly, another agent drew his blaster, but he was stunned 
before he could aim it.

	"Wender!" said Croft again, peering from behind his desk, where 
he still crouched.

	"Wender!" said Croft again. "Wender Wender Wender."

	"It appears to be safe," said Agent Waverly, looking around, with 
his blaster in hand. "You can get up from behind your desk now, I 
think."

	Croft spoke to the agent in charge. "Take them to sickbay," he 
said, referring to the stunned agents. "They will be all right in a few 
hours."
	"What about the people on the atmospheric platform?" said Agent 
Waverly.

	"We've got to go help them," said Croft. He went for his 
holoconsole. It was blasted. He went to one on a neighboring desk, and 
started typing.

	What was he typing? "We can't delay," said Agent Waverly.

	"A little delay is always good," said Croft, typing rapidly. 
After a moment he got up. He motioned to Preston, pointing at the 
terminal. "Make sure this gets done!" Then he turned to Waverly. "All 
right, let's go!" He grabbed Mongo by the arm.

	"Not to touch!" said Mongo, jerking back.

	"Then come on!" said Croft.

	Goaded by the fear of Croft's touch, Mongo started walking 
quickly towards the exit.



	They went to the roof where they strapped themselves into a 
multiseater gravitator. Croft took off even as Mongo was only beginning 
to strap himself in.

	Mongo gave a scream to show his lack of appreciation as he 
struggled to hang on. Croft gunned the gravitator at full speed, 
periodically glancing at the online map.

	"What do you think he's going to do?" said Agent Waverly.

	"He's going to crash the platform, of course," said Croft.

	Real estate in August, especially in Sarney Sarittenden, was at a 
premium. This was, after all, the capitol of the League and the 
Alliance, and the bureaucracy, already huge, only grew more so over the 
centuries. So buildings were built with hundreds of stories, and many 
buildings grew as big and wide as a city block.

	But that wasn't big enough. 

	So the city burrowed underground, creating multiple levels under 
the gigantic buildings.

	But even that wasn't enough.

	Even on August, there was still space to spread, both north, 
west, and south of Sarney Sarittenden. But when the prime measure of 
one's influence within the government (or with the government from the 
outside) was often measured by one's physical proximity to Sarney, 
spreading out too far wasn't an option.

	So the antigrav platforms were created. They were tremendously 
expensive, because each one had to carry thousands of pounds of weight, 
but they could house hundreds of bureaucrats (people). They generally 
hovered several hundred feet above the skyline, acquiring whatever 
expensive air rights they could to hover high in the air, above already 
tall buildings.

	No one ever gave any thought to the fact that unlike buildings, 
antigrav platforms were held up by an active technology. It was just 
assumed that this technology, around for hundreds of years, would never 
fail.

	But what if the platform were sabotaged... or someone simply 
turned off the antigrav?

	"He'll be killed if he's on the platform," said Agent Waverly.

	"I'm sure he'll have his own escape planned," said Croft. 
"Probably a gravitator of his own where he can watch the spectacle of a 
huge platform smashing into the buildings and streets below."

	"Well, this does conform to his pattern--random acts of 
humiliation or violence," said Agent Waverly.

	"Maybe Quick will give you a gold star for spotting the pattern, 
but it doesn't help us any," said Croft. Directorate agents were 
trained to be analytical, but sometimes they could be too much so, for 
Croft's tastes. He turned to Mongo. "Can you tell us exactly where or 
when he's going to sabotage the platform?"

	Mongo said, "He will sabotage platform number eight in one hour."

	Croft looked at Mongo. "That's word for word what you said 
before." He turned to Waverly. "The Mind Bender got to him."

	"Yes," said Agent Waverly. "So this is a trap."

	"Most probably," said Croft.

	Waverly was silent for a moment. "So we're going into a trap."

	"Yes," said Croft.

	"I just wanted to be sure I was following what was going on," 
said Agent Waverly.



	Several minutes later the platform came into view. It was a 
large, impressive structure, and even at a distance they could hear the 
antigrav motors underneath, glowing with power that made deep throbbing 
sounds.

	Croft knew better than to drive the gravitator directly under the 
antigrav units. But he did a quick skim around the edges of the 
platform.

	"If you're looking for sabotage you're probably wasting your 
time," said Agent Waverly. "He'll just have someone inside turn off the 
antigrav generators."

	"You're probably right," said Croft. 

	He maneuvered the gravitator close in to a landing pad. As they 
landed, Croft said to Waverly, "If you see him, shoot to kill."

	"I'm glad you're seeing things my way," said Agent Waverly. 

	"When a platform is about to crash and kill hundreds if not 
thousands of people, one's perspective changes," said Croft.

	They landed on the platform. Croft and Waverly got out of the 
gravitator. But Mongo didn't move.

	"Mongo?"
	"Mongo stay here," said Mongo.

	"Mongo comes with us," said Croft.

	"Mongo stay here," said Mongo. "Safer."

	"Are you sure about that?" said Croft, drawing his blaster.

	Wordlessly, Mongo got out of the gravitator and onto the 
platform.

	"That's quite a working relationship you have there," said Agent 
Waverly.

	"You should see the size of the fruit basket I get him on Mutant 
Appreciation Day," said Croft.

	They headed for the bottom level of the platform. That was where 
the antigrav engines would be housed. When they got there, they made 
their way through dark, narrow corridors. 

	Suddenly, Mongo stopped.

	"Mongo?" said Croft.

	"Switch, up ahead," said Mongo, sounding more like his old self. 
"Bad man will be there. May be there."

	"Will be? May be?" said Agent Waverly.

	"Mongo isn't sure if he's there yet," said Croft. "There are a 
number of possible futures. But do you see any of them in which we kill 
the Mind Bender?"

	Mongo shook his head, then mumbled something.

	"What?" said Croft, anxiously looking down the corridor.

	"Is possible. If you go forward, and other man goes around," said 
Mongo.

	"What is possible?" Croft persisted.

	"May surprise the bad man, giving time for this one to shoot 
him," said Mongo, indicating Waverly.

	"May?" said Croft. "What are your chances?"
	Mongo shrugged. "Mongo does not know chances. But Mongo sees 
many, many futures where you fail, and bad man controls you, controls 
you both."

	"That doesn't sound so good."

	"If you go in direct, together, bad man will definitely control 
you," said Mongo. "But if one of you goes around, you may win."

	"How many futures do you see us winning in, if we try this?" 
Croft asked.

	"One," said Mongo. He paused, and blinked. "Maybe two."

	"And how many do you see us losing in?"

	"Many," said Mongo. "Many many."

	"Don't you see anything else where we come out alive, with a 
little better odds?" said Agent Waverly.

	"Yes," said Mongo promptly. "If we head back to gravitator 
promptly, we will get out safely. Other peoples will fall. Croft will 
look very sad, and unjustly blame Mongo, but we will be alive."

	"I mean, an alternative where we save the platform?" said Agent 
Waverly.

	Mongo shrugged. "Mongo can not see all permutations that far 
ahead."

	"But you said you can see far enough ahead to see what will 
happen if we head back now," said Waverly. "You say you see us saving 
ourselves and Croft blaming you."

	"Well, do not actually see that," said Mongo. "Just using common 
sense that the Croft will blame poor Mongo."

	Croft looked at Waverly, who looked back at him.

	"We're talking several hundred people here," said Croft.

	"Can they be evacuated?" said Agent Waverly.

	"He'll flip the switch before the first one gets off."

	Waverly took a deep breath. "Then I'll try to go around while you 
distract him."

	"Good luck," said Croft, as Waverly turned down a side corridor.

	Croft turned to Mongo. "You can go."

	"Go?" said Mongo, looking surprised.

	"Surely you can see a future where I said that. Get back to the 
gravitator. There's nothing more you can do here."
	Mongo gave Croft an unusual stare, but whether he was 
experiencing curiosity or admiration or something else, Croft couldn't 
be sure. After matching his glance for a long second, Mongo turned and 
scampered off.

	Croft marched down the dark corridor, his breath labored. Mongo 
said his chances weren't very good. It was difficult to march into a 
situation where you knew in advance that you had very little chance of 
success.

	But Mongo had been wrong before, misinterpreting futures or 
viewing futures that didn't come to pass. Maybe this would be one of 
those times.

	Given the Mind Bender's powers, however, it was hard to believe 
that Croft would prevail.

	"Ah, there you are."

	Croft blinked, and he found himself facing the Mind Bender, 
standing next to a bank of electrical panels and a rather large switch. 
What had happened? It felt like a piece of time had been sliced away.

	Croft noticed that his blaster, which had been in his hand, was 
now holstered. He tried to reach for it, but for some reason he 
couldn't move.

	The Mind Bender smiled at him, as if he knew Croft's dilemma.

	"I'm afraid I can't let you shoot me," said the Mind Bender.

	Croft's mind raced.

	"Nor can I let Agent Waverly shoot me," said the Mind Bender, and 
he stepped aside, and Croft saw that Agent Waverly was frozen in place, 
on the other side of the corridor.

	"Really, you never were very much competition."

	Croft found he could speak. "Is that what you were looking for, 
competition?"
	"You are rated the best, the best of the best, a level one Column 
agent," said the Mind Bender. Now that Croft saw him up close, he 
didn't look at all unusual, just an ordinary, nondescript man.

	Wender approached Croft. "But you were no challenge at all."

	"What do you expect?" said Croft. "I can't control minds like 
you."
	"I know," said Wender. "I can't find any person who is my equal. 
Depressing, isn't it?"

	"Life is difficult all over," said Croft. "Did you hear how taxes 
went up again last month?"

	"Your attempt to be humorous is very feeble," said Wender.

	"If I had known you were running a talent show, I would have 
practiced my tap dancing," said Croft.

	"Do you have anything else to say before I pull this switch?" 
said Wender.

	"Yes," said Croft.

	Wender waited. "Well?"

	"Don't pull the switch."

	Wender laughed.

	"Is there something you want?" Croft asked.	

	"Something I want?" said Wender, a maniacal expression on his 
face. "What do I want? What does anyone want?"

	"Philosophers have debated this for ages," said Croft. "Chubar of 
Greenfields one said that desire is like a little frosted fruit cup 
that doesn't have a cherry on top-"

	"Silence!" said the Mind Bender. He stood close to Croft. "There 
is nothing I want; certainly nothing that you puny humans can give me. 
I'm the most powerful human being on this planet. On any planet. What 
is there that you can give me?"

	"Is that what this is about? Proving how powerful you are?" said 
Croft. "I grant you that you have the ability to control minds. But is 
it really necessary to kill people to prove it?"
	"Kill?" said Wender. "Killing applies to sentients. I stepped on 
a bunch of ants!"

	"Is that how you think of us?"
	"That's how I think of you now," said the Mind Bender. "I am as 
far above you as you are above an amoeba, and we have about as much in 
common. I am a quantum leap ahead in the evolution of mankind."

	"I hope not," said Croft. "It would be a shame if we all became 
maniacal killers."

	"Watch your tongue, Croft!" said the Mind Bender, and he moved 
his face to Croft's. "Or perhaps I'll have you cut yours out. I can do 
it, you know; make you do anything, I mean. I can make you shoot 
Waverly, or yourself, or go and jump off this platform."

	"Why have me do any of this?" said Croft. "You were a member of 
the Exploration Service. You can use your powers for good-"
	"Oh, don't give me that trite nonsense," the Mind Bender snapped. 
"I didn't keep you alive this long to hear that kind of garbage."

	"Keep me alive? It seems you tried several times to kill me," 
said Croft.

	The Mind Bender looked mockingly at Croft. "Kill you? I was 
toying with you." He stuck a finger in Croft's chest. "If I wanted you 
dead, you'd be dead."

	He moved towards the switch. "And now, I think I want you dead."

	"Again, where is the logic in this? What do you hope to 
accomplish?" Croft asked.

	"To show them," said the Mind Bender. "That I could take the best 
of the best. That I can do what I want."

	"We already see that," said Croft. "But what is it you want?"
	The Mind Bender frowned, as if the question irritated him. "I 
want whatever I want! I haven't decided what I want! Whatever I want, 
is whatever I want at the moment that strikes my fancy, and I take it!"

	He put his hand on the switch.

	"And at this moment, I want this!" said the Mind Bender, pulling 
the switch.

	There was a low groan, and lights on the monitoring panels 
started to dim. An alarm sounded, and Croft could feel the ground 
slowly start to sink beneath him.

	The Mind Bender grinned. "I did a little research. The antigravs 
turn off slowly. A safety precaution. One that will give me more than 
enough time to get to a gravitator and enjoy the view."

	"And you expect me to just stand here and let this happen?"
	"Yes," said the Mind Bender. He reached over and pulled Croft's 
blaster from its holster. He aimed it at Croft.

	It was set to kill.

	The Mind Bender slowly squeezed the trigger....

	But at the last moment the Mind Bender turned aside and shot the 
surrounding consoles. Once, and then twice. Sparked splayed over Croft, 
making him wince, but still he did not move.

	The Mind Bender turned back to Croft, the blaster still in his 
hand.

	The Mind Bender stared into Croft's face.

	"Thank you," he said, putting the blaster back in Croft's 
holster.

	"And now, I must take my leave of you," said the Mind Bender. He 
brushed past Croft provocatively. Croft didn't even flinch. The Mind 
Bender headed down the corridor, so very confident that Croft would not 
turn and shoot him.

	Would not?

	Could not.

	The floor started to sink more rapidly.

	Croft tried to get himself to move. His legs wouldn't budge.

	"Waverly," he yelled.

	"Yes," came the distant answer. "I can't move either."

	"But he's gone. And we know what he's done. It should wear off."
	"He's only been gone a moment," said Agent Waverly. "Perhaps it 
takes more time to wear off. Or perhaps he implanted the command to 
stay still more strongly with us."

	"We can't think that way," said Croft. "We've got to move."

	This was silly. There was nothing wrong with his legs. He had 
simply been told not to move. That was ridiculous. Move, Croft thought, 
move!

	But his legs wouldn't budge.

	Croft heard voices, rapid footsteps above them. Panic. Would 
someone come down here to save them? They'd have to be carried off the 
platform. Was there time?

	No, people were likely fleeing for their lives.

	Maybe Mongo would come?

	Even less likely.
	There was another lurch, and the floor beneath them started to 
drop more quickly.

	"Try to concentrate on moving any part of your body, even a 
finger," said Agent Waverly.

	"A finger isn't going to help," said Croft, trying anyway.

	"It may help to break the impulse."

	Croft strained. He tried to move... he strained.... he moved a 
finger, slightly. Or did he?

	The ground dropped even more rapidly. They were in freefall now. 
Croft didn't say what both men knew; even if they got control back over 
their legs, there was no way they would reach the docking level in 
time, assuming there was a gravitator left to be had.

	Agent Waverly looked at Croft, and nodded. "It's been a pleasure 
serving with you, Agent Croft."

	Croft gave Waverly a look of pure determination. "I'm not ready 
to give up yet."

	"What can happen, in the few seconds remaining?" said Agent 
Waverly.

	Croft arched an eyebrow. Suddenly, he found he could move his 
left arm a bit. And then he found he could move his right arm, just a 
bit.

	And suddenly, there was a jarring jolt, which sent both men 
crashing to the ground.

	The platform had stopped falling.

	Croft sat up, saw Waverly doing the same. "Are you all right?"

	"Remarkably, yes," said Agent Waverly. "Please don't take this 
the wrong way, but why are we still alive? That wasn't us hitting the 
ground, was it?"

	"No," said Croft. "If that had happened, we wouldn't be sitting 
here talking about it. What you felt was the jolt from a magnetic 
attractor beam, probably from the strength of it, from two or more 
cruisers, or maybe a battleship."

	"What?"

	"I anticipated that we might have a bit of difficulty with the 
Mind Bender. So I had Preston prepare a backup plan. An all points 
bulletin went out to any League warships in orbit to come and help 
out."

	"But you didn't know-"

	"Whether they would make it in time? No. That's why we had to try 
to save the platform as well," said Croft.

	"But Mongo-"

	"-couldn't see past the pulling of the lever," said Croft. "He 
didn't know what would happen next. Sometimes he can see for longer 
periods, sometimes shorter ones. That's why his predictions have to be 
taken skeptically."

	Waverly looked at Croft with newfound admiration. "I think 
Director Quick was right about you."

	



	"Of course I was right about him," said the holoimage of Steven 
Quick, those bright silvery eyes staring alternatively at Agent Waverly 
and Croft.

	They had the League Battleship Majestic, under the command of the 
legendary Myster Harkness, to thank for their last minute rescue, some 
eighty feet above the August skyline. Two other cruisers arrived 
seconds later, supporting the Majestic's beam, and several more ships 
arrived after that, keeping the platform in tow until engineers could 
repair the damage to the antigrav system on the platform.

	"He's mad," said Croft. "Whatever gave him the power also made 
him mad. He has no goals, other than random destruction."

	"That's not quite true," said Quick. "He does seem to have a 
persistent fixation with you."

	"With killing me," Croft corrected him.

	"With you," said Quick. "You were the one he put the idiot tag 
on. He feels competitive with you. He has tried to kill you, but hasn't 
tried very hard to do so."

	"It seemed otherwise to me."
	"In your last encounter, perhaps," said Quick. "But consider the 
first time. He tried to kill you in a hovercrash. Hovercraft crashes do 
happen, but fatality is far from certain when they occur."

	"He also had several of my fellow agents try to shoot me," said 
Croft.

	"Agent Waverly?"

	"True," said Agent Waverly. "But I noticed that the first agent 
to open fire was one far across the room. The second and third were 
also some distance from Croft."
	"So?" said Croft.

	"If he wanted you dead, why didn't he have an agent close by 
shoot you?" said Agent Waverly. "Or why didn't he shoot you himself?"

	Croft didn't have an answer.

	"Even on the platform, he didn't shoot you even when he had a 
blaster and you stood right in front of him," said Agent Waverly.

	"What are you saying, that he expected me to survive?"

	"Not during the last encounter," said Quick. "But he definitely 
is playing with you. Now that he knows that the platform didn't crash, 
he will know you are still alive, and you can expect his fixation to 
resume."

	"How can that help us?" Croft asked.

	Those silvery eyes turned on Croft. "To set a trap, of course."

	"It's kind of difficult to trap this guy," said Croft.  "He knows 
you're coming, and he stops you. Although..."

	"What is it?" said Quick, probing him with those eyes.

	"Presumably he can read minds as well as control them."

	"So?" said Quick.

	"So how come he didn't know that I had ordered warships to 
intercept the platform?" Croft asked.

	"Perhaps he did know but didn't think they would arrive in time," 
said Agent Waverly.

	"No, he would have mentioned them, to taunt me."

	Quick gave him a look. "Were you thinking about the fleet when 
you encountered him?"

	"I... I don't remember," said Croft.

	"Perhaps he can only discern topics you are actively thinking 
about," said Agent Waverly.

	"Perhaps," said Croft.

	"Perhaps," said Quick. "But we're getting sidetracked from the 
main issue; how can this man be stopped?"

	"I really don't know," said Croft. "We don't have anyone in the 
gamma section who is remotely on his level."

	Quick paused. 	"We need to find out more about his powers, and 
how he acquired them."

	"We haven't had much luck with that either," said Croft. "All we 
were able to determine is that he probably acquired these powers when 
he went on his last Exploration Survey trip."

	"Yes, I read about it," said Quick. "I understand a followup 
expedition was sent out on the same course and heading."

	"Yes, on the same trajectory," said Croft. "They found nothing."

	"What did an examination of the ship reveal?" said Quick.

	"The Exploration Service found nothing," said Croft quickly.

	"The Exploration Service? What about the Column? Didn't you do 
your own investigation?" Quick asked.

	"I... I didn't feel a search of the ship was necessary," said 
Croft, suddenly feeling that something was not quite right.

	"Why?" said Quick, and those silvery eyes stared at him.

	Those eyes stared at him.

	Croft thought a moment. "I... I'm not sure."
	"To be more precise, Albert Wender didn't feel that a further 
search of his ship would be necessary, and he told you that, didn't 
he?" said Quick.

	"Perhaps," said Croft, straining to remember.

	"If he doesn't want you examining it, there may be something to 
find."

	"I'll have a team go over it immediately," said Croft. Why hadn't 
he ordered that before?

	"Good," said Quick. "Hang in there, you're making progress."
	"You really think so?" said Croft.

	"You're still alive, aren't you?"

	Quick's image faded.

	"I find that sentiment both cheerful and encouraging," said 
Croft.

	"The Director likes us to think positively," said Agent Waverly.

	"That's really nice," said Croft.


Chapter 6: The Mind Bender Gives Up



	Croft, sitting at an empty desk near his blasted desk, watched an 
advertisement on one of the holonetworks.

	"Buy Claritan Computers!" said a cheery model. "They only break 
down 84% of the time in the first year of use, and if you have any 
problems, it only takes only an average of 89 minutes to get past our 
AI holosupport program to get a real live technician-"

	"I think the Mind Bender is messing around with corporations 
again," Croft said.

	"You don't know the half of it," said Preston. "Turn to channel 
749."

	Croft did. He saw a televised meeting of the Claritan 
Corporation, or at least the August branch of the Claritan Corporation 
(it was giant multiplanetary corporation, one of the largest). The 
President of the Claritan branch, Ripon Favor, was speaking to 
employees on a platform.

	"Hello, team members!" said Favor. Team members. That was one of 
the most commonly used euphemism for junior employees. "I want to 
congratulate new teammembers from the former Janicrane corporation who 
joined our team last week when we acquired your company! I just want to 
let you know that you are all very valuable members of our team. 
However, to be perfectly honest, some teammembers are more valuable 
than others. That is why in the months following the merger, 80% of you 
will be released into the private sector, where you will be encouraged 
to grow in new directions-"

	"Hm, this sounds a little bit odd," said Croft. "On the other 
hand, it does have some elements of a typical doublethink corporate 
speech."
	"Keep watching," said Preston grimly.

	"It's never good to give without receiving, I always say, so I 
want all you new employees to come up here and tell me what you think," 
said Favor. "Come on, come up on the stage."
	A string of hesitant looking employees (ex-employees?) started to 
come up on the stage.

	"Come on over, come on," said Favor, waving them over. It was 
then, when the camera panned slightly back, that Croft saw someone 
standing behind Favor. Croft adjusted his zoom controls. And groaned. 
He saw Wender.

	Favor g