"Two unarmed cargo vessels left Belixa III a week ago, bound for Niadel V. They were escorted by a light cruiser of the Sidneg class. They were picked up, off course, after they had passed the Niadel sun; nobody on board had even bothered to eat for four days.
"They probably wouldn't have been found at all if they'd been ordinary merchant vessels, but the local government on Niadel V was looking for them; there'd been an epidemic of some sort there, and these ships were on an emergency run with antibiotics of some kind."
Roysland stepped back and sat on the edge of his desk. "Got all three of them?"
"All three of them," said Eckisster emphatically. "Now, I'll send this report over to you immediately. We'll have to get some action. If the Enlissa can get in this close, they may decide to attack Kandoris itself! Your job is Special Weapons. Find a screen of some sort that will protect us from this—whatever it is."
"Call it a mindjammer," Roysland said. "One of the inspectors used that word, and I kind of like it."
"You like it." Eckisster's voice was cutting. "I don't like anything that does that to a human brain. Get busy and find some way to beat it."
Roysland started to explain that he liked the word—not the object—but the general director's image was already dissolving. Roysland stepped back behind his desk and dialed a number. A few seconds later, Bilford's image materialized. The nervous little man looked more nervous than ever.
"What is it, Roysland? More trouble? I hope not. I've had Eckisster on my neck all morning."
"I know; I just got him off mine. But I wanted to ask you something. Is there any correlation between the frequencies that help those men and the frequency of the feedback circuit in their prefrontal lobes?"