"And you haven't found out anything about him yet? Don't you know what's wrong with these men?" Eckisster's voice was bland on the surface, but there was a biting hardness underneath.
"We know what's wrong with them, sir," Bilford said stiffly; "we just don't know what caused it."
"According to the electroencephaloscope readings, the electrical activity of the prefrontal lobes is exhibiting a loop-feedback pattern. It's going around in circles without getting anywhere. As far as the nerve impulses are concerned, these men have been effectively lobotomized—almost completely so."
"I see." Eckisster looked at the captain again. "Captain, stand up." The captain stood. "Sit down." The officer sat. Eckisster rubbed a plump finger over his chin. "That's according to the report, at least. Would he kill himself if I asked him to?"
"Not if you asked him to," Bilford said coldly. "He might if you told him to. Do you want me to try it?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" the general director snapped. He looked at Roysland, who had been sitting quietly, waiting for Eckisster to finish. "Roysland, do you have any idea of the nature of this weapon?"
"None, sir," Roysland said quietly. "Neither I nor the psychologists have any idea what could do this to the human brain."
"Oh, no?" Eckisster's plump face smiled. "Haven't I heard something about microwaves at high intensity?"
Roysland nodded. "Sure. I know what you mean. But I was talking about doing it over a range of seven hundred million miles.
"We know that it can be done, but we don't know how the enemy did it. Look at it this way: If we'd found every one of these men with his skull bashed in, we could say that it had been done with a club. But that still wouldn't explain how it was done from better than a light-hour away."