IX.
Hotang Lu came at the call of his fellow. He saw the tableau. Thompson stricken rigid with mental effort, and Toralen Ki, tense and firm, before him. The Little Man's eyes were closed lightly, and his hands were clenched tight. Every muscle was tight in the mental effort, trying to drive the Loard-vogh out of Thompson's mind.
The waves of mental energy spread. Invisible and silent, they were not undetectable, for the men in the ships felt the waves of mental bleakness and strife and knew a deep and unreasoning fear.
Toralen Ki fought—and Hotang Lu stood by. To connect himself into the mental hookup at this point might destroy the balance. To destroy the balance might permit the hated Loard-vogh to enter, and no matter how brief the entry, it would be fatal.
So he waited, alert and ready to snap the transmentor over his head if Toralen Ki failed. He would give the Loard-vogh no chance to get set again; he would strike quickly while the Loard-vogh was still recovering from the headlong success. For in the moment of mental victory, the Loard-vogh's mind would be reeling forward like a man forcing a door that suddenly gives way before him.
Thompson's frame was rigid, his eyes open but glassy and—but they were not vacant. They were ablaze with an unreal light, the conflict in the helpless mind behind the eyes energized them.
But—the machine was destroyed.
And—there were waves of mental energy in the Terran's mind.
The conflict raged, and despite the helplessness of the Terran's mind and control, there was the untouchable subconscious that told him that he must fight for the beliefs he had always held.