Aurora Wolf

THE CEREBRAL-MAN

by Michael H. Hanson

[for Alfred and Edna]

 Author Preface: I just wanted to warn the reader (well, not so much warn as explain) that this fun little romp is not in any way my attempt to pawn off a substandard space adventure on you all, but rather, my hopefully “kitschy” attempt to pay tribute to those early pulp Space stories so wonderfully illustrated by the hands of the late great A.E. van Vogt and his wife E. Mayne Hull. Hence, the admittedly “corny dialogue,” and often and intentionally antiquated views on gender roles and interpersonal relationships that I of course do not endorse. The Cerebral-Man is written to reflect an earlier, and more innocent time in science fiction, and acknowledge the influence of those pioneer writers (Heinlein, van Vogt, Blish, Sturgeon, Asimov, etc.) on those of us who put fingers to computer keyboards today. It is all tongue in cheek. Enjoy.

“I don’t recall having any self-awareness about the intricacy of my stories.”

- A.E. van Vogt

“Cerebral-Man” – appellation for galactic folk-hero rumored to have the ability to use and access over 75% of his brain’s functional synaptic mass.

Born: Unknown

Died: Unknown

Parents: Unknown

Children: Unknown

Married: Unknown

Considered by many galactic historians to be nothing more than a conglomeration of several legendary freebooters of the second galactic expansion, the accounts of the many

adventures, acquisitions, triumphs, and accomplishments of the so-called ‘Cerebral-Man’ are so outrageous that they surely cannot be attributed to the actions of one single individual.

First-person descriptions of this phantom-like figure vary considerably in the telling. Some citizens are recorded as saying he was quite short in stature, others quote he

towered above two meters, and even others relate he was of average height. His complexion ran the gamut of Caucasian, African, and Asian, and his hair color that of blonde, redhead, brunette, and even bald.

Rumors abounded that he held an almost supernatural magnetic attraction for individuals of the opposite sex, which is no doubt the basis for the many tall-tales of his personal

triumphs, as well as the ridiculous but popular notion that his personal staff of secretaries, bodyguards, lawyers, spaceship pilots, engineers, and even scientists was made up entirely of ultra-loyal women.

Though historians still argue to this day about the probable birth date and birthplace of this elusive legend, all agree that the first major source of Cerebral-Man tales occurred

during the early colonization of the Wolf 294 System, just 18 light-years from Terra Prime, circa 2451…

– Encyclopedia Galactica, 2995

 

Adrian Kondrak walked down the transport ramp closing his eyes against the unnatural glare and struggling to keep one foot in front of the other. Reading about Clarion’s large Sun and 1.2 Earth Gravity, and actually dealing with them, were definitely two very different experiences. Feeling only partially safe within the anonymity of the 1,000-person crowd of colonists that stumbled off of the earth transport vessel FLEDGLING, Adrian scanned the perimeter of the landing field while keeping a firm right hand on his shoulder satchel, a small leather carry-bag that contained everything he had ever owned.

“Move it along you bloody lead-foot squints!” A burly mostly toothless security guard yelled mercilessly. “No food or water until you get through processing! Quit dawdling!”

Minutes later the crowd entered a huge hanger filled with electronic-clerks sitting strategically at various tables. The three dozen security guards, more bully-boys than real trained law enforcement personnel, immediately started diverting people into various lines, waving shock-sticks threateningly in the air.

Within moments Adrian intuitively scoped the pattern of the different check-in points. One line for families with children. One for single men over the age of 40. A similar one for over-40 women. One line for large muscular men under 40, and a separate line for their weak or puny brethren. Then a final two lines for young women, the more attractive quickly separated and processed out a side entrance.

It was finally Adrian’s turn. The large potbellied guard that had greeted them upon landing gave him the once over, scanned Adrian’s com-badge into a handheld device, and was clearly unimpressed. Adrian quickly reviewed his own physical attributes, six feet tall, slender, Caucasian male, square jaw, intense green eyes, dark red hair, medium skin tone, clean-shaven with thick sensuous lips that always looked like they were about to break out into a smile.

Nearing 21, Adrian was still amazed at how disarming his appearance was to women in general, yet simultaneously challenging to lowbrow and primitive men like this guard.

“College boy, eh?” The guard spat. “Ain’t much work around here for a soft-hands like you.”

“Clarion’s advertisements tell differently.”

The guard leaned back involuntarily, surprised as all men always were by the steel in Adrian’s voice.

“Yeah, well, line four. Move along. Next!”

Adrian started to walk forward…

“No! Help!”

…and just as quickly stopped in his tracks. The guard who had just confronted him spun around and raced toward an altercation on the far side of the room. Adrian gritted his teeth to strengthen his resolve and started to walk toward his processing line when another shouted plea froze him once more.

It was a young woman, Felisha Barrens, a fellow passenger barely a day over 18, and she was being dragged from her parents toward one of the single young women lines. No doubt to be transported directly to one of Clarion’s infamous bordello training sites.

Cursing the weakness in his psyche, Adrian gritted his teeth and jogged as quick as he could under the damning gravity across the main hanger and put his hand on the shoulder of a mountainous guard who had just slugged Felisha’s father, Bill, knocking him to the floor with a bloody lip.

“Enough of that.” Adrian ordered.

The guard spun around in surprise and frowned downwards.

“Mind your own affairs bud if you know what’s good for you. This is Immigration business.”

Several other guards moved forward, raising their shock sticks threateningly.

“By all means,” Adrian said in a reasonable voice. “If you wish to break Transport-Law and bear the brunt of a troop of peacekeepers. Just keep on doing what you’re doing.”

The guard, Bruno by the name tag on his breast, frowned mightily and licked his lips.

“Whatta you talking about? Immy process got its own set of rules! This chicky is over 18. An adult. And that makes her fresh meat for the dance-doxie lodges. Now if you don’t…”

“She’s my wife.” Adrian stated coldly.

The guard’s mouth dropped open and Felisha’s father and mother stepped forward questioningly.

“Wahh…” The guard looked helplessly to his buddies for help. “I don’t see no ring on either of you! And her papers said nothing bought…”

“We had a summary-betrothal on THE FLEDGLING.” Adrian spoke as if from rote. “A binding promise of marriage witnessed by both her parents. And by Transport Law, Section 534 of the Interstellar Immigration Act, that makes Felisha Barrens my de facto spouse. And in case it never got through that thick forehead of yours, Clarion is a full signatory to all of the Articles of the Joint Planetary Congress.”

Bruno’s grip, loosening during Adrian’s speech, completely released Felisha.

“So unless you wish to start an interstellar incident you’d best back off.” Adrian finished.

Furious, Bruno spat on the ground and glared around at his underlings.

“What are you looking at! Get back to work! We’ve got another transport coming in ten minutes!”

Felisha and her parents rushed forward to thank Adrian who rudely brushed aside their gratitude.

“What were you thinking?” Adrian hissed furiously. “Why didn’t you hide the fact that Felisha had come of age with forged papers? At the very least you could have disguised her figure with a standard man’s coverall!”

“We,” Bill stuttered. “We didn’t know…”

“We did everything the ship’s training manual told us to do.” Felisha’s mother, Tara, said in tears. “We followed all the rules.”

Adrian shook his head in disgust. It never ceased to amaze him the naivety of the average human being. He sincerely doubted this tight-knit family would survive for long…but that was not his problem now. He had a mission to pursue, one that would, if successful, change the very tide of history.

Tara moved forward and shoved something into Adrian’s hand. It was a simple man’s ring, made of ultra-dense ferracite, a common mineral found in the mines of Mars from where this family had just emigrated.

“A small thank you,” she said

“I can’t…” Adrian began but just as quickly stopped. He suddenly remembered that Felisha’s parents were members of the Church of the Third Planet, and the giving and receiving of gifts was considered a serious moral and ethical ritual. “Uh. Thank you.” He replied, quickly pocketing the trinket and accepting a quick kiss on his cheek from Felisha.

“Look.” Adrian started. “From now own, forget everything you read in the ship’s manual. It was all baloney. This is a frontier world, with its own set of rules and way of doing things. Now, you want to protect Felisha? Then you keep her out of sight and covered up, at least until you can marry her off, and the sooner you do that the better.”

Felisha’s eyes lit up at this last statement and Adrian steeled himself against the adoration reflected in both her face and her parents.

“We think very highly of you Adrian, and if…” Bill began but was silenced by a curt gesture from Adrian.

“I’m flattered Bill.” Adrian turned to Felisha. “And in another time and another place I’d be more than willing. But I’ve got my own destiny to carve out. I wish you all the best of luck.”

And with that, feeling the burden of guilty abandonment, and a deep interior loss he could not understand, Adrian Kondrak turned his back on the only people he could call friends on the entire planet of Clarion.

* * *

Five months later Adrian found himself calmly sitting before a large wooden desk in the small Spartan office of “Flame Imports,” and staring down the barrel of an illegal blaster-pistol.

The man holding the weapon, short, bald, and sporting a two-day growth of beard and mustache, was none other than Frank Illen, Corporate Manager and Owner of Flame Imports, Inc., not to mention the head gang boss of all criminal activity in the burgeoning earth-colony on Clarion.

Considering the proximity of the weapon, and its probable use, Adrian’s mind worked faster than it ever had before.

* * *

Mere hours after landing on this hellish rock Adrian had no trouble finding work as an electronic-clerk for Steel-All, one of the dozens of mining operations that were springing up almost monthly on this frontier world. His excellent memory (with its total recall and photographic abilities, though he always made sure to keep this a secret as to avoid his fellow man’s inevitable jealously) and analytical skills, not to mention his natural abilities with a computer, were all the resume he needed.

Within two months Adrian’s brilliant extrapolations saved the company over five million debits, and he was rewarded with a promotion to Head Accountant for the entire Platinum Operation.

On his third month on Clarion, Adrian stood self-consciously in the center of a dozen attractive and very interested young women at a cocktail party hosted by the Planet’s mayor himself, Cronon Tamshell. Adrian’s reputation preceded him and so every Company on the planet was making its best effort to lure the wonder-boy accountant away from Steel-All, Inc.

This siren’s ploy was definitely not lost on Adrian, who charmingly disengaged himself from many an alluring offer until he managed to get a moment alone to catch his breath on a small balcony overlooking the young city.

“All glory is fleeting, you know…”

Kondrak turned to the whispering female voice and smiled.

“And my name is Adrian, not Julius. Miss…”

“Janeen Flowastell.”

Adrian shook the proffered hand and was surprised at its subtle strength.

Janeen joined Adrian, placing both of her elbows on the ornate platinum guardrail, her exquisite shoulder mere millimeters from his own.

Clarion Central, lit up like a million glistening jewels, beckoned to them both.

“I seem to be in demand tonight,” Adrian stated smugly. “So just what is it that you are offering?” He added with a leer.

Janeen, taking the young man’s lack of manners in stride, pulled a business card out of her wrist purse and elegantly slid it into his breast pocket.

“If you have to ask.” Janeen said while turning away. “Then you’re probably not the man we’re looking for.”

Adrian stood up straight, shrugging off the false facade of an arrogant drunken wonderboy, and removed the card from his breast pocket as Janeen strode away disappearing into the throng of the party.

The card was a simple enough affair. Name and address. Frank Illen. Corporate Manager. Flame Imports, Inc. The Meteor Building. Clarion Central.

“Bingo.” Adrian thought. They’d taken the bait.

* * *

Adrian’s fourth month on Clarion was spent analyzing the complete inflow, outflow, and inventory of every single transaction Flame Imports, Inc. had ever engaged in.

After hundreds of backbreaking hours on his computer Adrian created a cost-benefit analysis that would save Corporate Manager Frank Illen over 100 Million Debits over the next stellar cycle.

Adrian was in.

Over the next thirty days Adrian’s boss paid his new wonder-boy extravagant bonuses to process unbelievably vast sums of currency that would never be reported to the Galactic Revenue Service.

After one particularly intense day of juggling thousands of dummy corporate accounts and even thousands of more discrete anonymous money-orders for questionable services rendered by all manner of corrupted government officials, Adrian was summoned to his boss’s office.

Adrian flirted with Frank’s obviously interested secretary Erin for a whole thirty seconds before the intercom spoke up.

“Adrian!” Frank’s gravely voice boomed. “Come in.”

Adrian closed the old-fashioned door behind him and sat down in the simple chair that faced Frank’s antique oak desk. Adrian glanced around the microbial office, smiling to himself that there really was a single affectation of Frank’s that he could admire.

“You keep a tight ship.” Adrian admitted.

“Thanks.” Frank replied in a dry voice.

“Otherwise, Illen,” Adrian thought to himself. “You’re the most despicable human being I have ever met.”

There wasn’t a robbery, assault, or murder that occurred on Clarion without Frank Illen’s complete approval. Adrian’s new boss was the unchallenged head of all criminal activities on the planet, and as such received a 40% cut of all profit made from any and all illegal activities, not to mention the even more lucrative protection racket. There wasn’t a legit business in Clarion Central that didn’t make monthly under-the-counter payments to Illen.

And with that closing thought the Corporate Manager of Flame Imports, Inc. reached into the front drawer of his desk and pulled out a blaster pistol that he promptly pointed at Adrian.

“If this is about my quarterly projection.” Adrian stated smoothly. “I can maybe boost it up 2% by the end of the calendar month.”

“Cute.” Frank sneered. “But your quick wit isn’t going to get you out of this, Kondrak.”

“And what, pray tell.” Adrian stated with a force of will and resolve which clearly surprised the older criminal. “Is THIS, exactly?”

Frank’s eyes closed to a squint as his grip tightened on his blaster.

“I gotta admire your style boy. You almost had me there.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yeah. And you can cut the innocent act. As I said, you almost had me. Almost. But lucky for me the planet’s Tax Assessor happens to owe a bundle to one of my casinos. And so he’s been most helpful in volunteering all kinds of information.”

Adrian felt his insides go cold but managed to maintain a calm demeanor on the outside.

“It seems that as a Planetary-Congress appointed Regional GRS Representative, he has singular access to the daily end-transactions of each and every bank, credit union, and loan agency on Clarion…and wouldn’t you know he just happened to notice a rather unusual flurry of currency transfers during the last six hours, nearly three-quarters of my assets. Enough to purchase an entire frontier world and then some.”

Adrian remained blank-faced, waiting for Illen to finish.

“So here we are.” Frank continued. “I know you’re not the competition. The old wise-guys back on Earth know better than to stick their necks out in the ether. So I figure you’re some kind of government agent. Too bad. I was starting to like you.”

And Frank raised the blaster to point it directly between Adrian’s eyes.

Adrian, caught completely off guard, chided himself fiercely for this seemingly untenable situation. All of his plans had hinged on his monetary manipulations remaining hidden for at least twelve more hours. The planetary tax assessor’s gambling problems were one crucial factor in a gigantic calculation that was now falling apart like a gargantuan house of cards. Unaware that his recent activities lay exposed, Adrian had come in to work today without any number of concealable weapons he would have otherwise worn on his person.

All that stood between him and imminent doom was his abnormally quick mind.

“You’re wrong on both counts.” Adrian drawled with false bravado. “I’m neither a product of organized crime nor the government.”

“Yah?” Frank sneered again. “Well whatever your game is you’re about to become a pile of fried atoms.”

“What I am.” Adrian continued undeterred. “Is what is more popularly known as a rogue cerebral-mutant.”

“Whaaaa…” Frank’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s just a bunch of Hollywood Vid bushwah!”

“Is that a fact?” Adrian smiled, placing both of his hands in a fan pattern before his own face, the simple gift ring from the Barrens’ family displayed on his right ring finger. “You honestly think I’ve accomplished all of this because of good accounting?”

“Okay. So you’re smart. Really smart. But that don’t mean…”

“I possess many neural powers Frank.” Adrian smiled with unnerving intensity. “Clairvoyance allowed me to see which stocks to avoid and which tax loopholes to manipulate. Electro-neurapathy has allowed me to link my mind with the planetary computer system in such a manner that I could head off each and every electronic investigation into my movements. And Telepathy has allowed me to see how very frightened you are, and that right at this moment you’re thinking you should have called in your personal bodyguards before arrogantly confronting me all on your own.”

Frank nervously licked his lips. “A lucky guess. You’re no mind-mutant.”

“Then why are you sweating, Frank?”

Frank shoved his blaster forward. Simultaneously, Adrian shoved his right hand forward, pointing it directly at the blaster which was just inches away.

Frank pulled the trigger. Instantly, a small batch of sparks formed around the open end of the muzzle and quickly transformed into a puff of smoke.

“Whaaaa…” Frank’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“Electro-Telekinesis, Frank.” Adrian smiled. “I could just as easily have fried your brain.”

“But…” Frank looked back and forth from his blaster to Adrian. “But how…please don’t hurt me…”

Just then, both rear doors flew open to reveal Felisha Barrens, dressed as a Street Vendor, and Janeen Flowastel, wearing a provocative and formfitting synthiskin one-piece, both sporting their own blaster pistols.

Frank turned in their direction, completely forgetful of the seemingly useless blaster in his right hand.

“No!” Adrian yelled out. But too late.

Felisha and Janeen both fired simultaneously, the twin flares of their blasters intersecting over Frank’s heart, killing him instantly. The former gang boss fell down into his seat and slumped lifeless over his desk.

“That wasn’t necessary, ladies.” Adrian said while pocketing Frank’s blaster. “He was in the process of surrendering his weapon to me.”

“Oh!” Felisha said. “I…I didn’t know. I thought he was going to…”

“And I’m rather surprised to see you in cahoots with one of Frank’s mistresses.”

“Her?” Janeen shrugged in Felisha’s direction as she stood over Frank’s corpse. “I don’t even know who that kid is. I never laid eyes on her until a minute ago.”

Adrian chuckled. “So you both just happen to break in at the same time? I truly love the gods of coincidence…”

Just then Adrian noticed a flicker of light from under the front door of the office. He crossed the room in three large strides and yanked the door open. Erin, who had obviously been spying on all of them through the keyhole, fell forward onto her face. Adrian quickly helped her up.

“Oh!” Erin said. “I so wanted to help you Mr. Kondrak, but I was scared. Will you forgive me?”

Adrian disentangled himself from the amorous receptionist and took a step back to center himself.

“Explanations?” He said.

“Well.” Felisha started. “I…I couldn’t forget you. So I found out where you were working, and got a job nearby. And…and I’ve been watching your back ever since. I saw a flash of light through the back window and knew something was up and…here I am.”

Adrian’s eyes lifted up in surprise before turning to Janeen.

“I knew my boss was bad news.” She admitted reluctantly. “But I couldn’t get you out of my mind either…Adrian. One of my clients is Frank’s top henchman. He told me what was going to happen an hour ago…and here I am.”

Adrian pursed his lips and looked over the three women who were all hovering around him, waiting for him to talk.

“And so I have three guardian angels.”

* * *

Adrian Kondrak, just six months after he had first landed on the frontier world of Clarion, stood near the boarding gate of the Spaceship ST. LAWRENCE. It was due to lift off in thirty minutes, and Adrian had to board within fifteen. All that he possessed was contained in the leather satchel draped over his shoulder, not to mention over 900 million debits which were registered on a computer chip sewn into the collar of his jacket.

Every couple of minutes he would turn around and scan the perimeter of the rocket field.

“Will they join me?” He wondered sadly. Statistically speaking, the odds were against it.

* * *

Frank Illen’s death was not part of Adrian’s original plan, which was designed to leave Frank in the lurch, as it were, surrounded by thousands of employees and associates demanding salaries and a cut of a profit that no longer existed. With Illen’s sudden demise, a bloodbath of intra-criminal and cross-city-politics had to be headed off…at least for a full day, until Adrian could move on.

Adrian had no choice. With Erin’s help, he called in all of mob boss Illen’s immediate cutthroat subordinates and killed them one at a time with a blaster shot to the backs of their heads as they entered the main office. Adrian, Felisha, Janeen, and Erin spent the rest of the day disposing of the bodies.

Adrian then sat the three ladies down and told his story.

He told them how he had been raised since the age of six as an elite member of the mind-monks, a select group of individuals pulled from society by Earth Government and given intense training to develop their natural intellectual abilities to their fullest.

“And that’s how you got your mind-powers, Mr. Kondrak?” Erin had blurted.

“No.” Adrian had chuckled. “I have no mind-powers, Erin.”

“But you read Mr. Illen’s mind!” Erin insisted. “And you made all that money on the computer market, and you stopped his blaster with a wave of your hand.”

“First.” Adrian started, uncomfortable under the looks of awe from Felisha and Janeen. “I did no such thing. I merely told Frank I did. My success on the stock market came from hard work, not to mention a little luck. The same can be said for my evasion techniques on the computer network, though Frank’s turning of the planetary tax assessor was a potentially disastrous flaw in my plan. And as for reading Frank’s mind, let’s just say I have a very advanced intuitive ability which works best when I am under extreme pressure.”

“But.” Erin started. “The blaster. I saw it all through the keyhole.”

“Oh, that.” Adrian chuckled. “I have this to owe.” And Adrian held his hand up, displaying the ferracite ring which Felisha’s mother had given him as a gift months earlier.

“What?” Felisha started.

“This ring is made of ferracite. A very common metal on Mars. It is not often used in most machinery, however, because of a very uncontrollable trait it possesses.”

“Of course!” Felicia’s eyes opened up. “The atom-collapse!”

“Precisely.” Adrian said. “Ferracite tends to cancel out minute atomic reactions within its immediate sphere. Frank’s blaster was an old model that required a micro-static charge to build up within about six inches of the muzzle before it could engage. When I pointed my hand at it I made sure the ring was close to the weapon. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here now.”

“Okay.” Janeen said. “So why are you no longer with the mind-monks.”

“I was a protégé to the head monk, none other than Darian Tron. Darian was not a government puppet like so many had supposed over the last few decades. Before his death last year he opened his heart and mind to me, and me alone. He told me he had been training me differently from all of the other acolytes, to make me a free-thinker, and a more advanced one at that. With planetary colonization in its infancy, Darian and I had mapped out the next 100 years of galactic history, and it was not pretty. Brutal dictatorship and constant war were what we had forseen…and we could see only one way around it.”

“You.” Felisha said with full adoration in her voice. “You were the answer.”

“Correct.” Adrian said with conviction. “It was our supposition that one lone operator, working on the outskirts of the growing Terran Empire, could, through the accumulation of great wealth and the promotion of free trade, act as bulwark to the formation of a non-representative and dictatorial galaxy-wide government. And so I escaped the prison walls of the mind-monk compound on the island of Rapa Nui, and snuck aboard THE FLEDGLING as just another hopeful colonist. And now, I have started our plan here, on Clarion. The money I’ve stolen from Illen is just the starting point. In time I hope to become one of several powerful space merchants who are only now beginning to build their reputations in this arm of the known galaxy.”

“And love?” Erin asked plaintively. “Is there any room in your mighty plan for a personal life?”

And all three women looked at Adrian expectedly.

“The future of the human race rests on my shoulders. And it would be to their detriment if I selfishly gave over all of my heart and will to just one person.”

Adrian studied the three women for another moment.

“I will need people, dedicated brave individuals who share my vision. It will be a long road, and a dangerous one at that. There are no guarantees that any and all of us will survive this endeavor. But if…if any of you wish to be a part of this, you can join me at the rocket field tomorrow morning. I can promise you nothing more than that.”

* * *

And now, a full day later, Adrian handed his electronic-ticket to an androgynous robot-clerk at the embarkation ramp.

“Adrian!” A Woman’s voice yelled.

Adrian Kondrak turned around and smiled.

Felisha, Erin, and Janeen were sprinting across the tarmac to join him…as deep down in his heart he had hoped and prayed they would.

The great adventure had begun.

 

-                       – THE END -

 

The Retro Rocket photograph is from Jeff Brewer’s website

Cool Rockets.com