The General Zapped an Angel: New Stories of Fantasy and Science Fiction Read Free Page B

minds of every living creature within a mile or so.
    â€œAlmost all of the people are asleep. Most of the animals appear to be nocturnal.”
    â€œCurious.”
    â€œNo—not really. Most of the animals are undomesticated—small, wild creatures. Great fear—hunger and fear.”
    â€œPoor things.”
    â€œYes—poor things, yet they manage to survive. That’s quite a feat, under the noses of the people. Interesting people. Probe a bit.”
    The second man reached out with his mind and probed. His reaction might be translated as “Ugh!”
    â€œYes—yes, indeed. They think some horrible thoughts, don’t they? I’m afraid I prefer the animals. There’s one right up ahead of us. Wide awake and with nothing else in that tiny brain of his but fear. In fact, fear and hunger seem to add up to his total mental baggage. Not hate, no aggression.”
    â€œHe’s also quite small as things go on this planet,” the second spaceman observed. “No larger than we are. You know, he might just do for us.”
    â€œHe might,” the first agreed.
    With that, the two tiny men approached the mouse, who still crouched defensively in the mole hole, only the tip of its whiskered nose showing. The two men moved very slowly and carefully, choosing their steps with great deliberation. One of them suddenly sank almost to his knees in a little bit of earth, and after that they attempted to find footing on stones, pebbles, bits of wood. Evidently their great weight made the hard, dry earth too soft for safety. Meanwhile the mouse watched them, and when their direction became evident, the mouse attempted the convulsive action of escape.
    But his muscles would not respond, and as panic seared his small brain, the first spaceman reached into the mouse’s mind, soothing him, finding the fear center and blocking it off with his own thoughts and then electronically shifting the mouse’s neuron paths to the pleasure centers of the tiny animal’s brain. All this the spaceman did effortlessly and almost instantaneously, and the mouse relaxed, made squeaks of joy, and gave up any attempt to escape. The second spaceman then broke the dirt away from the tunnel mouth, lifted the mouse with ease, holding him in his arms, and carried him back to the saucer. And the mouse lay there, relaxed and cooing with delight.
    Two others, both women, were waiting in the saucer as the men came through the air lock, carrying the mouse. The women—evidently in tune with the men’s thoughts—did not have to be told what had happened. They had prepared what could only be an operating table, a flat panel of bright light overhead and a board of instruments alongside. The light made a square of brilliance in the darkened interior of the spaceship.
    â€œI am sterile,” the first woman informed the men, holding up hands encased in thin, transparent gloves, “so we can proceed immediately.”
    Like the men, the women’s skin was yellow, not sallow but a bright, glowing lemon yellow, the hair rich orange. Out of the spacesuits, they would all be dressed more or less alike, barefoot and in shorts in the warm interior of the ship; nor did the women cover their well-formed breasts.
    â€œI reached out,” the second woman told them. “They’re all asleep, but their minds!”
    â€œWe know,” the men agreed.
    â€œI rooted around—like a journey through a sewer. But I picked up a good deal. The animal is called a mouse. It is symbolically the smallest and most harmless of creatures, vegetarian, and hunted by practically everything else on this curious planet. Only its size accounts for its survival, and its only skill is in concealment.”
    Meanwhile the two men had laid the mouse on the operating table, where it sprawled relaxed and squeaking contentment. While the men went to change out of their spacesuits, the second woman filled a hypodermic