Freedom's Challenge (20 page)

“Yes, I had heard that,” Dr. Hessian was willing to admit, “from talks with Doctor Seissmann. Evidently Doctor Stanley Kessler was one. Tragic loss to the field.”

“I agree,” Dorothy said. “From various sources, we did learn that the Eosi reduced the current to prevent additional deaths due to central nervous system overload. Unfortunately the reason was less humanitarian than selfish. The Eosi were killing before they could complete the retrieval process that would extract the information they wanted. To be useful, the subject had to remain in a state of altered consciousness, therefore alive, during the probe.”

“What could be their interest in neuropsychology?” Dr. Hessian asked.

“This is theory, of course, because they mind-wiped leading professionals and state officials on a random basis but it might have to do with increasing the compliance level of the races they have dominated. They have had an unusual amount of resistance from Earth's races and they may well have been trying to find a way to disempower their ability to resist. Just ‘turn them off,' so to
speak, by inhibiting or altering the synaptic receptor response. It would have the same effect as removing the drive unit from a computer—you can punch the keys but nothing will happen. For some reason, and fortunately for the rest of those subjected to the mind-wipe, the Eosi went off on another tact of mental exploration entirely. Or the percentage of death was discouraging.”

“What happened to those who were so examined?”

“Some experienced organic damage to both frontal lobes from experimental current levels. Still others were left with the effects of psychological trauma and some had both. In addition, many have had survivor guilt, as they were aware of the eminence of many that died. They have, quite naturally, questioned their own worth at having remained alive. Others grieved. Actually, in the case of Doctor K, there was some of both.”

“Tell me more,” said Dr. Hessian.

“Our patient, Doctor K, heard of the deaths of several such scientists, colleagues at the university, and prior to her own ordeal under Eosian instrument. And, while the mind-wipe current level had been reduced and no further deaths resulted, she was severely traumatized. Having the power of her mind stolen by ruthless aliens who had strapped her into a chair and assaulted her with a searing blue beam of bright, laser-fine light was devastating. She had flashbacks of the blue beam following her, aimed directly at the forebrain, entering her head while she was physically and psychologically paralyzed, unable to escape.”

“Hmmm. Could cause severe neuroses, indeed.” He cleared his throat. “You have told me about the trauma Doctor K experienced. Now I'd like to know something about her development history, psychological defenses, and pre-morbid adjustment level.”

Dorothy took a deep breath as she was coming to the difficult part. “Pre-morbid adjustment level is not a very
useful concept in the treatment of post-traumatic stress disorder of highly functioning individuals. The focus is more closely conceptualized as helping them gain self-efficacy and self-control over their symptoms at the conscious level.”

“Well,” and Dr. Hessian's tone was pompous, “if you don't take pre-morbid treatment into account, you are not offering comprehensive treatment.”

“In your theory that is true: in mine, technically, it's not,” she replied. “Imagine a nearly new automobile that is totally destroyed in a head-on collision. We would seldom ask how well it ran prior to the accident or expect it to return to its nearly new form after a visit to the body shop. In fact, such wrecks are discarded. But, with people, the nature of the human spirit often allows them to achieve an amazing level of functioning so that they can transcend the level of the trauma. Teaching how to do that by employing techniques from cognitive psychology, behavior therapy, and multi-modal treatment has proven efficacious.”

Another pause. “Well, then, tell me,” Dr. Hessian said again with that hint of gracious condescension, “what were the symptoms of post-traumatic stress that were most difficult to treat?” he asked.

Dorothy decided that he was trying to buy time to revise his strategy.

“Doctor K had temporary post-trauma amnesia and flashbacks of the blue light. She could not sleep or remain awake without recurrent images of the blue light attacking her forehead. Everywhere she went, it haunted her. In dreams as well as in waking life, she was trailed by this nasty flashback that impeded every aspect of her recovery.”

Dr. Hessian straightened himself, a smug gleam in his eye and Dorothy wondered what hole he would try to pick in her method. He was making eye contact now
while he assumed his characteristic condescending expression.

“This is why pre-morbid adjustment is so important to know,” he said. “I would guess there was some unresolved conflict in this woman's background that made her more prone to the flashback. Do you know if there was some unresolved guilt toward a parent or unresolved shame in the area of sexuality, for example, that showed itself in this way?”

By now the sun was disappearing behind the mountains. They could hear others hurrying home but no one used this path. She didn't want to rush the man but they would soon have to leave, to avoid the night crawlers. However, she had to make an end of this power struggle between the two opposing camps of psychological treatment. The base of their current discussion, she reasoned, is power, not just theory. There are two ends to this rope: he is pulling one end and I have hold of the other in this psychological tug-of-war. I will decide not to play and see what happens.

“Well,” Dorothy said out loud, “while I would continue our discussion, we must make it back to our respective residences before full dark. I had wanted to tell you that the way we treated Doctor K's flashbacks was to bring under stimulus control using a fading procedure combined with deep muscle relaxation. We also provided her with an imagery intervention which was highly effective.”

Dr. Hessian looked at her, unimpressed. He was probably not inspired by the a-theoretical even if it was effective.

“We'd best call it a night,” she said, standing up and his deep-rooted courtesy made him get to his feet, too. “I hope you decide to join us. Would you sleep on it? We could use your clinical help and perhaps you could summarize Doctor Kessler's work and present it to the treatment
staff. It might be a fitting tribute since you knew him. Anyway, let me know what you decide.”

She took the few steps back to the safety of the flagstone path but turned back, assuming a humble expression. “Oh,” she said, “Doctor Hessian, before I leave, I do need to apologize to you.” She even managed the slightest hint of chagrin.

“Apologize to me?” he repeated, obviously pleased that she was seeing the mistake of her own ways.

“Yes, you see, presenting the case of Doctor K was my way of attempting to share with you the power of the treatment model. I guess I was not successful in helping you see that.”

“Well,” he said, with an almost gracious wave of his hand, “you tried.”

“The irony,” she responded gently, “was that while most of the case data was accurate, one part was not. I changed the gender of the doctor involved.”

“Well, I hardly think that is significant.”

“Not when Doctor K is you. We used social learning techniques to revive your fine mind, Doctor Hessian, and they worked.”

She saw his gaping mouth and hurried away, leaving him to digest that final thrust.

•   •   •

KRIS AND SARAH HAD RUN AS FAST AS THEY could to leave the scene of their eavesdropping.

“Should we apologize to Dorothy?” Kris asked, her expression repentant.

“How were we to know Hessian would come in, all ruffled and precipitate a set-down? I hope he got it from her, too,” Sarah replied, not the least bit repentant. Then she shuddered. “I hadn't heard her theory about what the Eosi might have been trying to do. Make zombies out of all of us.”

Kris had a sick feeling in her guts. She shook her head
slowly in denial. “No, Zainal is certain that the Eosi were trying to search for possible new scientific theories…”

“And what, pray tell, was that?” Sarah asked acidly.

“A point, but it wasn't just psychologists and psychiatrists that got the treatment. There were heads of state and government departments and whatever NASA personnel they could find. All kinds of specialists.” Kris realized she was talking more to reassure herself than Sarah. And she wasn't sure she was convincing. “Well, with all the information that's come back, the High Command,” and she managed a grin, “are sure to come to some conclusions. I'm sure Dorothy would have told Leon Dane, at least, since he's still more or less chief medic.”

“Well, it's not something we just
ask
about, is it?”

“Nope, but that doesn't mean we can't find out if it's been discussed.” Kris muttered under her breath. “That's the downside of being away from here. You can't keep up with what's happening.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows and regarded Kris with a wry grin. “Look who's talking? You've been traveling the galaxy and I'm stuck at home…Oops!” She caught Kris' arm, then pointed to the cluster of torches at the dark edge of the settlement. “Demonstration!”

They were not so far away they didn't hear the gasp as the latest arrivals witnessed the emergence of night crawlers. They could hear male shouts of surprise and alarm and female cries of terror. They saw plainly the shadows of a milling throng, wanting to put distance between themselves and the wet, slimy denizens of the night ground. A chant began, and from the depth of the voices, the two friends decided that was a Maasai response to danger.

“I'm glad they're on our side,” Kris said.

“Me, too, and Joe won't be on mine if I don't get home,” Sarah said and turned off toward her own home on the flagstone path where their way parted.

•   •   •

WHEN KRIS REACHED THEIR HOUSE, ZANE WAS asleep and Zainal busy with papers on the table, so she slipped in to check on her son. He'd grown inches in the weeks she'd been away. What else had she missed of his development?

Zainal grinned at her. “He walks well now.”

She pulled up another chair to sit beside him, their bodies barely touching at shoulder and thigh. She had worked herself into a nervous wreck on the walk home, thinking about Dorothy's theory. Well, eavesdroppers never heard anything good, about themselves or other matters: as just demonstrated. But maybe Zainal could reassure her. She was certain to have nightmares tonight, remembering the blank looks of the Victims as they had been led off the two K-ships.

“Zainal?” she began and then noticed he was dealing with figures and time slots, and entry windows through the Bubble. “What's being planned now?”

Zainal leaned back, tossing the pencil to the table and stretching until his tendons cracked which made her shudder. The sound made her wince, thinking of bodies on a rack.

“Kamiton met some of the other leaders, and I must agree with some of their ideas.” Zainal linked his fingers together across the back of his broad head. Which reminded Kris of the burning question.

She put her hand on his upper arm in brief apology. “The Eosi couldn't come up with a means to turn off all our minds, could they?”

Zainal tipped his head back, roaring with laughter, and she had to hush him. Zane would sleep through a great deal of noise but not a bellow like that.

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze, his face against her cheek.

“They've only one of those mental helmets. They
could scarcely cope with the millions of you Humans, and that's what they'd have to do. Though Ray asked Kamiton, too, if it was possible. It isn't! It would be better if we could put the Eosi under that device.” He made a grimace, a new trait of his which made him seem all the more Human. She'd caught the surprise in Kamiton's eyes over Zainal's facial reactions. Very un-Catteni, probably. “Of course, their enlarged heads wouldn't fit so we can't use that as a way of cutting them down to size.”

She grinned back at him. “So?”

“So, since Kamiton needs to get back, we are going to see what other mischief…is that the right word,” and his yellow eyes twinkled at her, “we can get into. Actually,” and he retrieved the pencil to tap it on the various sheets that she realized were now laid out in a semi-circle on the table, “Beverly wants to dazzle them with surprises everywhere. Everyone who went back to Earth is all for it.” His expression was solemn. “Your planet had taken a terrible beating and still won't succumb to practices the Eosi have always found effective. If not being able to get through the Bubble has been frustrating Mentat Ix, why not prod them elsewhere! Frustrate them more! Confuse them! Harry—I thought that was a man's name—harry them until they don't know how to deal with the various strikes we'll make.”

“Well, there're ways to totally confuse a computer,” Kris said, “and make it blow up.
Could
there be a way to do that to the Eosi?”

“Kamiton thinks it's a good way to go,” Zainal said, with a sly grin. “He says it might be the right way, too.”

“So?” and she pulled one of the sheets toward her which Zainal then deftly shifted back.

“So, since Kamiton can get access to all the recognition codes,
and
find out which ships of which class have been destroyed or believed lost, we can make our fleet into a much larger one.”

“By changing the code name?”

“And where it appears. For instance, as Emassi Venlik, I need to bring back all the metals I had to off-load in the asteroid belt. First, as Emassi Kulak, I will go to a mining planet and acquire a load…” He interrupted himself. “Walter Duxie says he can't mine enough to make a full load of interesting stuff, so we go where they are mining it. Then, we take that load back to Catten.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I wish to bring my sons to safety here,” and he looked her squarely in her eyes.