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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of the Damned, by Harry Harrison
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Planet of the Damned
+
+Author: Harry Harrison
+
+Release Date: June 20, 2007 [EBook #21873]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANET OF THE DAMNED ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, William Woods and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's note: This etext was produced from the 1962 book
+publication of the story, which was originally published in Analog
+Science Fact-Science Fiction, Sept.-Nov. 1961. Extensive research did
+not uncover any evidence that the copyright on this publication was
+renewed.]
+
+
+
+
+                      EVIL
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brion entered the temple and stood as if rooted to the
+ground. There was a horror in this place--it clung to
+everything. Muffled and hooded men stood silent and
+unmoving about the room, their attention rigidly focused
+on a figure in the center. Brion wondered how he knew they
+were men--only their eyes showed, eyes completely empty
+of expression yet somehow reminding him of a bird of prey.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Then suddenly the figure in the center moved. It was a
+weird, crazily menacing action--and in an instant Brion
+knew he had found the enemy, the source of the evil that
+infected the PLANET OF THE DAMNED.
+
+
+Bantam Books by Harry Harrison
+
+Ask your bookseller for the books you have missed.
+
+     DEATHWORLD
+     DEATHWORLD II
+     PLANET OF THE DAMNED
+     TWO TALES AND EIGHT TOMORROWS
+     THE JUPITER LEGACY (PLAGUE FROM SPACE)
+
+
+
+               PLANET OF
+               THE DAMNED
+
+     BY HARRY HARRISON
+
+[Illustration: BANTAM BOOKS
+TORONTO NEW YORK LONDON]
+
+A NATIONAL GENERAL COMPANY
+
+
+PLANET OF THE DAMNED
+
+_A Bantam Book / published January 1962_
+_New Bantam edition published February 1971_
+
+_All rights reserved._
+_Copyright © 1962, by Harry Harrison._
+
+_This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by
+mimeograph or any other means, without permission._
+
+_For information address: Bantam Books, Inc._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, Inc., a National
+General company. Its trade-mark, consisting of the words "Bantam
+Books" and the portrayal of a bantam, is registered in the United
+States Patent Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada.
+Bantam Books, Inc., 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10019._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+
+                    For my Mother and Father--
+
+                      RIA AND LEO HARRISON
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+     _A man said to the universe:
+     "Sir, I exist!"
+     "However" replied the universe,
+     "The fact has not created in me
+      A sense of obligation."_
+
+                         STEPHEN CRANE
+
+
+Sweat covered Brion's body, trickling into the tight loincloth that
+was the only garment he wore. The light fencing foil in his hand
+felt as heavy as a bar of lead to his exhausted muscles, worn out by
+a month of continual exercise. These things were of no importance.
+The cut on his chest, still dripping blood, the ache of his
+overstrained eyes--even the soaring arena around him with the
+thousands of spectators--were trivialities not worth thinking about.
+There was only one thing in his universe: the button-tipped length
+of shining steel that hovered before him, engaging his own weapon.
+He felt the quiver and scrape of its life, knew when it moved and
+moved himself to counteract it. And when he attacked, it was always
+there to beat him aside.
+
+A sudden motion. He reacted--but his blade just met air. His instant
+of panic was followed by a small sharp blow high on his chest.
+
+"_Touch!_" A world-shaking voice bellowed the word to a million
+waiting loudspeakers, and the applause of the audience echoed back
+in a wave of sound.
+
+"One minute," a voice said, and the time buzzer sounded.
+
+Brion had carefully conditioned the reflex in himself. A minute is
+not a very large measure of time and his body needed every fraction
+of it. The buzzer's whirr triggered his muscles into complete
+relaxation. Only his heart and lungs worked on at a strong,
+measured rate. His eyes closed and he was only distantly aware of
+his handlers catching him as he fell, carrying him to his bench.
+While they massaged his limp body and cleansed the wound, all of his
+attention was turned inward. He was in reverie, sliding along the
+borders of consciousness. The nagging memory of the previous night
+loomed up then, and he turned it over and over in his mind,
+examining it from all sides.
+
+It was the very unexpectedness of the event that had been so
+unusual. The contestants in the Twenties needed undisturbed rest,
+therefore nights in the dormitories were as quiet as death. During
+the first few days, of course, the rule wasn't observed too closely.
+The men themselves were too keyed up and excited to rest easily. But
+as soon as the scores began to mount and eliminations cut into their
+ranks, there was complete silence after dark. Particularly so on
+this last night, when only two of the little cubicles were occupied,
+the thousands of others standing with dark, empty doors.
+
+Angry words had dragged Brion from a deep and exhausted sleep. The
+words were whispered but clear--two voices, just outside the thin
+metal of his door. Someone spoke his name.
+
+"... Brion Brandd. Of course not. Whoever said you could was making
+a big mistake and there is going to be trouble--"
+
+"Don't talk like an idiot!" The other voice snapped with a harsh
+urgency, clearly used to command. "I'm here because the matter is of
+utmost importance, and Brandd is the one I must see. Now stand aside!"
+
+"The Twenties--"
+
+"I don't give a damn about your games, hearty cheers and physical
+exercises. This is _important_, or I wouldn't be here!"
+
+The other didn't speak--he was surely one of the officials--and
+Brion could sense his outraged anger. He must have drawn his gun,
+because the intruder said quickly, "Put that away. You're being a
+fool!"
+
+"Out!" was the single snarled word of the response. There was
+silence then and, still wondering, Brion was once more asleep.
+
+"Ten seconds."
+
+The voice chopped away Brion's memories and he let awareness seep
+back into his body. He was unhappily conscious of his total
+exhaustion. The month of continuous mental and physical combat had
+taken its toll. It would be hard to stay on his feet, much less
+summon the strength and skill to fight and win a touch.
+
+"How do we stand?" he asked the handler who was kneading his aching
+muscles.
+
+"Four-four. All you need is a touch to win!"
+
+"That's all he needs too," Brion grunted, opening his eyes to look
+at the wiry length of the man at the other end of the long mat. No
+one who had reached the finals in the Twenties could possibly be
+a weak opponent, but this one, Irolg, was the pick of the lot. A
+red-haired mountain of a man, with an apparently inexhaustible store
+of energy. That was really all that counted now. There could be
+little art in this last and final round of fencing. Just thrust and
+parry, and victory to the stronger.
+
+Brion closed his eyes again and knew the moment he had been hoping
+to avoid had arrived.
+
+Every man who entered the Twenties had his own training tricks.
+Brion had a few individual ones that had helped him so far. He was
+a moderately strong chess player, but he had moved to quick victory
+in the chess rounds by playing incredibly unorthodox games. This was
+no accident, but the result of years of work. He had a standing order
+with off-planet agents for archaic chess books, the older the
+better. He had memorized thousands of these ancient games and
+openings. This was allowed. Anything was allowed that didn't involve
+drugs or machines. Self-hypnosis was an accepted tool.
+
+It had taken Brion over two years to find a way to tap the sources
+of hysterical strength. Common as the phenomenon seemed to be in the
+textbooks, it proved impossible to duplicate. There appeared to be
+an immediate association with the death-trauma, as if the two were
+inextricably linked into one. Berserkers and juramentados continue
+to fight and kill though carved by scores of mortal wounds. Men with
+bullets in the heart or brain fight on, though already clinically
+dead. Death seemed an inescapable part of this kind of strength.
+But there was another type that could easily be brought about in any
+deep trance--hypnotic rigidity. The strength that enables someone
+in a trance to hold his body stiff and unsupported except at two
+points, the head and heels. This is physically impossible when
+conscious. Working with this as a clue, Brion had developed a
+self-hypnotic technique that allowed him to tap this reservoir of
+unknown strength--the source of "second wind," the survival strength
+that made the difference between life and death.
+
+It could also kill--exhaust the body beyond hope of recovery,
+particularly when in a weakened condition as his was now. But that
+wasn't important. Others had died before during the Twenties, and
+death during the last round was in some ways easier than defeat.
+
+Breathing deeply, Brion softly spoke the auto-hypnotic phrases that
+triggered the process. Fatigue fell softly from him, as did all
+sensations of heat, cold and pain. He could feel with acute
+sensitivity, hear, and see clearly when he opened his eyes.
+
+With each passing second the power drew at the basic reserves of
+life, draining it from his body.
+
+When the buzzer sounded he pulled his foil from his second's
+startled grasp, and ran forward. Irolg had barely time to grab up
+his own weapon and parry Brion's first thrust. The force of his rush
+was so great that the guards on their weapons locked, and their
+bodies crashed together. Irolg looked amazed at the sudden fury of
+the attack--then smiled. He thought it was a last burst of energy,
+he knew how close they both were to exhaustion. This must be the end
+for Brion.
+
+They disengaged and Irolg put up a solid defense. He didn't attempt
+to attack, just let Brion wear himself out against the firm shield
+of his defense.
+
+Brion saw something close to panic on his opponent's face when the
+man finally recognized his error. Brion wasn't tiring. If anything,
+he was pressing the attack. A wave of despair rolled out from
+Irolg--Brion sensed it and knew the fifth point was his.
+
+Thrust--thrust--and each time the parrying sword a little slower to
+return. Then the powerful twist that thrust it aside. In and under
+the guard. The slap of the button on flesh and the arc of steel that
+reached out and ended on Irolg's chest over his heart.
+
+Waves of sound--cheering and screaming--lapped against Brion's
+private world, but he was only remotely aware of their existence.
+Irolg dropped his foil, and tried to shake Brion's hand, but his
+legs suddenly gave way. Brion had an arm around him, holding him up,
+walking towards the rushing handlers. Then Irolg was gone and he
+waved off his own men, walking slowly by himself.
+
+Except that something was wrong and it was like walking through warm
+glue. Walking on his knees. No, not walking, falling. At last. He
+was able to let go and fall.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+Ihjel gave the doctors exactly one day before he went to the
+hospital. Brion wasn't dead, though there had been some doubt about
+that the night before. Now, a full day later, he was on the mend and
+that was all Ihjel wanted to know. He bullied and strong-armed his
+way to the new Winner's room, meeting his first stiff resistance at
+the door.
+
+"You're out of order, Winner Ihjel," the doctor said. "And if you
+keep on forcing yourself in here, where you are not wanted, rank or
+no rank, I shall be obliged to break your head."
+
+Ihjel had just begun to tell him, in some detail, just how slim his
+chances were of accomplishing that, when Brion interrupted them
+both. He recognized the newcomer's voice from the final night in
+the barracks.
+
+"Let him in, Dr. Caulry," he said. "I want to meet a man who thinks
+there is something more important than the Twenties."
+
+While the doctor stood undecided, Ihjel moved quickly around him and
+closed the door in his flushed face. He looked down at the Winner in
+the bed. There was a drip plugged into each one of Brion's arms. His
+eyes peered from sooty hollows; the eyeballs were a network of red
+veins. The silent battle he fought against death had left its mark.
+His square, jutting jaw now seemed all bone, as did his long nose
+and high cheekbones. They were prominent landmarks rising from the
+limp greyness of his skin. Only the erect bristle of his
+close-cropped hair was unchanged. He had the appearance of having
+suffered a long and wasting illness.
+
+"You look like sin," Ihjel said. "But congratulations on your
+victory."
+
+"You don't look so very good yourself--for a Winner," Brion snapped
+back. His exhaustion and sudden peevish anger at this man let the
+insulting words slip out. Ihjel ignored them.
+
+But it was true; Winner Ihjel looked very little like a Winner, or
+even an Anvharian. He had the height and the frame all right, but it
+was draped in billows of fat--rounded, soft tissue that hung loosely
+from his limbs and made little limp rolls on his neck and under his
+eyes. There were no fat men on Anvhar, and it was incredible that
+a man so gross could ever have been a Winner. If there was muscle
+under the fat it couldn't be seen. Only his eyes appeared to still
+hold the strength that had once bested every man on the planet to
+win the annual games. Brion turned away from their burning stare,
+sorry now he had insulted the man without good reason. He was too
+sick, though, to bother about apologizing.
+
+Ihjel didn't care either. Brion looked at him again and felt the
+impression of things so important that he himself, his insults, even
+the Twenties were of no more interest than dust motes in the air. It
+was only a fantasy of a sick mind, Brion knew, and he tried to shake
+the feeling off. The two men stared at each other, sharing a common
+emotion.
+
+The door opened soundlessly behind Ihjel and he wheeled about,
+moving as only an athlete of Anvhar can move. Dr. Caulry was halfway
+through the door, off balance. Two men in uniform came close behind
+him. Ihjel's body pushed against them, his speed and the mountainous
+mass of his flesh sending them back in a tangle of arms and legs. He
+slammed the door and locked it in their faces.
+
+"I have to talk to you," he said, turning back to Brion.
+"Privately," he added, bending over and ripping out the communicator
+with a sweep of one hand.
+
+"Get out," Brion told him. "If I were able--"
+
+"Well, you're not, so you're just going to have to lie there and
+listen. I imagine we have about five minutes before they decide to
+break the door down, and I don't want to waste any more of that.
+Will you come with me offworld? There's a job that must be done;
+it's my job, but I'm going to need help. You're the only one who can
+give me that help.
+
+"Now refuse," he added as Brion started to answer.
+
+"Of course I refuse," Brion said, feeling a little foolish and
+slightly angry, as if the other man had put the words into his
+mouth. "Anvhar is my planet--why should I leave? My life is here and
+so is my work. I also might add that I have just won the Twenties.
+I have a responsibility to remain."
+
+"Nonsense. I'm a Winner, and I left. What you really mean is you
+would like to enjoy a little of the ego-inflation you have worked so
+hard to get. Off Anvhar no one even knows what a Winner is--much
+less respects one. You will have to face a big universe out there,
+and I don't blame you for being a little frightened."
+
+Someone was hammering loudly on the door.
+
+"I haven't the strength to get angry," Brion said hoarsely. "And
+I can't bring myself to admire your ideas when they permit you to
+insult a man too ill to defend himself."
+
+"I apologize," Ihjel said, with no hint of apology or sympathy in
+his voice. "But there are more desperate issues involved than your
+hurt feelings. We don't have much time now, so I want to impress you
+with an idea."
+
+"An idea that will convince me to go offplanet with you? That's
+expecting a lot."
+
+"No, this idea won't convince you--but thinking about it will.
+If you really _consider_ it you will find a lot of your illusions
+shattered. Like everyone else on Anvhar, you're a scientific
+humanist, with your faith firmly planted in the Twenties. You accept
+both of these noble institutions without an instant's thought. All
+of you haven't a single thought for the past, for the untold
+billions who led the bad life as mankind slowly built up the good
+life for you to lead. Do you ever think of all the people who
+suffered and died in misery and superstition while civilization
+was clicking forward one more slow notch?"
+
+"Of course I don't think about them," Brion retorted. "Why should I?
+I can't change the past."
+
+"But you can change the future!" Ihjel said. "You owe something
+to the suffering ancestors who got you where you are today. If
+Scientific Humanism means anything more than just words to you,
+you must possess a sense of responsibility. Don't you want to try
+and pay off a bit of this debt by helping others who are just as
+backward and disease-ridden today as great-grandfather Troglodyte
+ever was?"
+
+The hammering on the door was louder. This and the drug-induced
+buzzing in Brion's ear made thinking difficult. "Abstractly, I of
+course agree with you," he said haltingly. "But you know there is
+nothing I can do personally without being emotionally involved. A
+logical decision is valueless for action without personal meaning."
+
+"Then we have reached the crux of the matter," Ihjel said gently.
+His back was braced against the door, absorbing the thudding blows
+of some heavy object on the outside. "They're knocking, so I must be
+going soon. I have no time for details, but I can assure you upon my
+word of honor as a Winner that there is something you can do. Only
+you. If you help me we might save seven million human lives. That
+is a fact."
+
+The lock burst and the door started to open. Ihjel shouldered it
+back into the frame for a final instant.
+
+"Here is the idea I want you to consider. Why is it that the people
+of Anvhar, in a galaxy filled with warring, hate-filled, backward
+planets, should be the only ones who base their entire existence
+on a complicated series of games?"
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+This time there was no way to hold the door. Ihjel didn't try. He
+stepped aside and two men stumbled into the room. He walked out
+behind their backs without saying a word.
+
+"What happened? What did he do?" the doctor asked, rushing in
+through the ruined door. He swept a glance over the continuous
+recording dials at the foot of Brion's bed. Respiration,
+temperature, heart, blood pressure--all were normal. The patient lay
+quietly and didn't answer him.
+
+For the rest of that day, Brion had much to think about. It was
+difficult. The fatigue, mixed with the tranquilizers and other
+drugs, had softened his contact with reality. His thoughts kept
+echoing back and forth in his mind, unable to escape. What had Ihjel
+meant? What was that nonsense about Anvhar? Anvhar was that way
+because--well, it just was. It had come about naturally. Or had it?
+
+The planet had a very simple history. From the very beginning there
+had never been anything of real commercial interest on Anvhar. Well
+off the interstellar trade routes, there were no minerals worth
+digging and transporting the immense distances to the nearest
+inhabited worlds. Hunting the winter beasts for their pelts was a
+profitable but very minor enterprise, never sufficient for mass
+markets. Therefore no organized attempt had ever been made to
+colonize the planet. In the end it had been settled completely by
+chance. A number of offplanet scientific groups had established
+observation and research stations, finding unlimited data to observe
+and record during Anvhar's unusual yearly cycle. The long-duration
+observations encouraged the scientific workers to bring their
+families and, slowly but steadily, small settlements grew up. Many
+of the fur hunters settled there as well, adding to the small
+population. This had been the beginning.
+
+Few records existed of those early days, and the first six centuries
+of Anvharian history were more speculation than fact. The Breakdown
+occurred about that time, and in the galaxy-wide disruption Anvhar
+had to fight its own internal battle. When the Earth Empire
+collapsed it was the end of more than an era. Many of the
+observation stations found themselves representing institutions that
+no longer existed. The professional hunters no longer had markets
+for their furs, since Anvhar possessed no interstellar ships of its
+own. There had been no real physical hardship involved in the
+Breakdown as it affected Anvhar, since the planet was completely
+self-sufficient. Once they had made the mental adjustment to the
+fact that they were now a sovereign world, not a collection of
+casual visitors with various loyalties, life continued unchanged.
+Not easy--living on Anvhar is never easy--but at least without
+difference on the surface.
+
+The thoughts and attitudes of the people were, however, going
+through a great transformation. Many attempts were made to develop
+some form of stable society and social relationship. Again, little
+record exists of these early trials, other than the fact of their
+culmination in the Twenties.
+
+To understand the Twenties, you have to understand the unusual orbit
+that Anvhar tracks around its sun, 70 Ophiuchi. There are other
+planets in this system, all of them more or less conforming to the
+plane of the ecliptic. Anvhar is obviously a rogue, perhaps a
+captured planet of another sun. For the greatest part of its 780-day
+year it arcs far out from its primary, in a high-angled sweeping
+cometary orbit. When it returns there is a brief, hot summer of
+approximately eighty days before the long winter sets in once more.
+This severe difference in seasonal change has caused profound
+adaptations in the native life forms. During the winter most of the
+animals hibernate, the vegetable life lying dormant as spores or
+seeds. Some of the warm-blooded herbivores stay active in the
+snow-covered tropics, preyed upon by fur-insulated carnivores.
+Though unbelievably cold, the winter is a season of peace in
+comparison to the summer.
+
+For summer is a time of mad growth. Plants burst into life with
+a strength that cracks rocks, growing fast enough for the motion
+to be seen. The snowfields melt into mud and within days a jungle
+stretches high into the air. Everything grows, swells, proliferates.
+Plants climb on top of plants, fighting for the life-energy of the
+sun. Everything is eat and be eaten, grow and thrive in that short
+season. Because when the first snow of winter falls again, ninety
+per cent of the year must pass until the next coming of warmth.
+
+Mankind has had to adapt to the Anvharian cycle in order to stay
+alive. Food must be gathered and stored, enough to last out the long
+winter. Generation after generation had adapted until they look on
+the mad seasonal imbalance as something quite ordinary. The first
+thaw of the almost nonexistent spring triggers a wide-reaching
+metabolic change in the humans. Layers of subcutaneous fat vanish
+and half-dormant sweat glands come to life. Other changes are more
+subtle than the temperature adjustment, but equally important. The
+sleep center of the brain is depressed. Short naps or a night's rest
+every third or fourth day becomes enough. Life takes on a hectic and
+hysterical quality that is perfectly suited to the environment. By
+the time of the first frost, rapid-growing crops have been raised
+and harvested, sides of meat either preserved or frozen in mammoth
+lockers. With this supreme talent of adaptability mankind has become
+part of the ecology and guaranteed his own survival during the long
+winter.
+
+Physical survival has been guaranteed. But what about mental
+survival? Primitive Earth Eskimos can fall into a long doze of
+half-conscious hibernation. Civilized men might be able to do this,
+but only for the few cold months of terrestrial midwinter. It would
+be impossible to do during a winter that is longer than an Earth
+year. With all the physical needs taken care of, boredom became the
+enemy of any Anvharian who was not a hunter. And even the hunters
+could not stay out on solitary trek all winter. Drink was one
+answer, and violence another. Alcoholism and murder were the twin
+terrors of the cold season, after the Breakdown.
+
+It was the Twenties that ended all that. When they became a
+part of normal life the summer was considered just an interlude
+between games. The Twenties were more than just a contest--they
+became a way of life that satisfied all the physical, competitive
+and intellectual needs of this unusual planet. They were a
+decathlon--rather a double decathlon--raised to its highest power,
+where contests in chess and poetry composition held equal place
+with those in ski-jumping and archery. Each year there were two
+planet-wide contests held, one for men and one for women. This was
+not an attempt at sexual discrimination, but a logical facing of
+facts. Inherent differences prevented fair contests--for example, it
+is impossible for a woman to win a large chess tournament--and this
+fact was recognized. Anyone could enter for any number of years.
+There were no scoring handicaps.
+
+When the best man won he was really the best man. A complicated
+series of playoffs and eliminations kept contestants and observers
+busy for half the winter. They were only preliminary to the final
+encounter that lasted a month, and picked a single winner. That was
+the title he was awarded. Winner. The man--and woman--who had bested
+every other contestant on the entire planet and who would remain
+unchallenged until the following year.
+
+Winner. It was a title to take pride in. Brion stirred weakly on his
+bed and managed to turn so he could look out of the window. Winner
+of Anvhar. His name was already slated for the history books, one of
+the handful of planetary heroes. School children would be studying
+_him_ now, just as he had read of the Winners of the past. Weaving
+daydreams and imaginary adventures around Brion's victories, hoping
+and fighting to equal them someday. To be a Winner was the greatest
+honor in the universe.
+
+Outside, the afternoon sun shimmered weakly in a dark sky. The
+endless icefields soaked up the dim light, reflecting it back as a
+colder and harsher illumination. A single figure on skis cut a line
+across the empty plain; nothing else moved. The depression of the
+ultimate fatigue fell on Brion and everything changed, as if he
+looked in a mirror at a previously hidden side.
+
+He saw suddenly--with terrible clarity--that to be a Winner was to
+be absolutely nothing. Like being the best flea, among all the fleas
+on a single dog.
+
+What was Anvhar after all? An ice-locked planet, inhabited by a few
+million human fleas, unknown and unconsidered by the rest of the
+galaxy. There was nothing here worth fighting for; the wars after
+the Breakdown had left them untouched. The Anvharians had always
+taken pride in this--as if being so unimportant that no one else
+even wanted to come near you could possibly be a source of pride.
+All the other worlds of man grew, fought, won, lost, changed. Only
+on Anvhar did life repeat its sameness endlessly, like a loop of
+tape in a player....
+
+Brion's eyes were moist; he blinked. _Tears!_ Realization of this
+incredible fact wiped the maudlin pity from his mind and replaced it
+with fear. Had his mind snapped in the strain of the last match?
+These thoughts weren't his. Self-pity hadn't made him a Winner--why
+was he feeling it now? Anvhar was his universe--how could he even
+imagine it as a tag-end planet at the outer limb of creation? What
+had come over him and induced this inverse thinking?
+
+As he thought the question, the answer appeared at the same instant.
+Winner Ihjel. The fat man with the strange pronouncements and
+probing questions. Had he cast a spell like some sorcerer--or the
+devil in _Faust_? No, that was pure nonsense. But he had done
+something. Perhaps planted a suggestion when Brion's resistance was
+low. Or used subliminal vocalization like the villain in _Cerebrus
+Chained_. Brion could find no adequate reason on which to base his
+suspicions. But he knew, with sure positiveness, that Ihjel was
+responsible.
+
+He whistled at the sound-switch next to his pillow and the repaired
+communicator came to life. The duty nurse appeared in the small screen.
+
+"The man who was here today," Brion said, "Winner Ihjel. Do you know
+where he is? I must contact him."
+
+For some reason this flustered her professional calm. The nurse
+started to answer, excused herself, and blanked the screen. When
+it lit again a man in guard's uniform had taken her place.
+
+"You made an inquiry," the guard said, "about Winner Ihjel. We are
+holding him here in the hospital, following the disgraceful way in
+which he broke into your room."
+
+"I have no charges to make. Will you ask him to come and see me at
+once?"
+
+The guard controlled his shock. "I'm sorry, Winner--I don't see how
+we can. Dr. Caulry left specific orders that you were not to be--"
+
+"The doctor has no control over my personal life." Brion
+interrupted. "I'm not infectious, nor ill with anything more than
+extreme fatigue. I want to see that man. At once."
+
+The guard took a deep breath, and made a quick decision. "He is on
+the way up now," he said, and rung off.
+
+"What did you do to me?" Brion asked as soon as Ihjel had entered
+and they were alone. "You won't deny that you have put alien
+thoughts in my head?"
+
+"No, I won't deny it. Because the whole point of my being here is
+to get those 'alien' thoughts across to you."
+
+"Tell me how you did it," Brion insisted. "I must know."
+
+"I'll tell you--but there are many things you should understand
+first, before you decide to leave Anvhar. You must not only hear
+them, you will have to believe them. The primary thing, the clue
+to the rest, is the true nature of your life here. How do you think
+the Twenties originated?"
+
+Before he answered, Brion carefully took a double dose of the mild
+stimulant he was allowed. "I don't think," he said; "I know. It's
+a matter of historical record. The founder of the games was Giroldi,
+the first contest was held in 378 A.B. The Twenties have been held
+every year since then. They were strictly local affairs in the
+beginning, but were soon well established on a planet-wide scale."
+
+"True enough," Ihjel said. "But you're describing _what_ happened.
+I asked you _how_ the Twenties originated. How could any single man
+take a barbarian planet, lightly inhabited by half-mad hunters and
+alcoholic farmers, and turn it into a smooth-running social machine
+built around the artificial structure of the Twenties? It just
+couldn't be done."
+
+"But it _was_ done!" Brion insisted. "You can't deny that. And there
+is nothing artificial about the Twenties. They are a logical way to
+live a life on a planet like this."
+
+Ihjel laughed, a short ironic bark. "Very logical," he said; "but
+how often does logic have anything to do with the organization of
+social groups and governments? You're not thinking. Put yourself in
+founder Giroldi's place. Imagine that you have glimpsed the great
+idea of the Twenties and you want to convince others. So you walk up
+to the nearest louse-ridden, brawling, superstitious, booze-embalmed
+hunter and explain clearly. How a program of his favorite
+sports--things like poetry, archery and chess--can make his life
+that much more interesting and virtuous. You do that. But keep your
+eyes open at the same time, and be ready for a fast draw."
+
+Even Brion had to smile at the absurdity of the suggestion. Of
+course it couldn't happen that way. Yet, since it had happened,
+there must be a simple explanation.
+
+"We can beat this back and forth all day," Ihjel told him, "and you
+won't get the right idea unless--" He broke off suddenly, staring at
+the communicator. The operation light had come on, though the screen
+stayed dark. Ihjel reached down a meaty hand and pulled loose
+the recently connected wires. "That doctor of yours is very
+curious--and he's going to stay that way. The truth behind the
+Twenties is none of his business. But it's going to be yours. You
+must come to realize that the life you lead here is a complete and
+artificial construction, developed by Societics experts and put into
+application by skilled field workers."
+
+"Nonsense!" Brion broke in. "Systems of society can't be dreamed up
+and forced on people like that. Not without bloodshed and violence."
+
+"Nonsense, yourself," Ihjel told him. "That may have been true in
+the dawn of history, but not any more. You have been reading too
+many of the old Earth classics; you imagine that we still live in
+the Ages of Superstition. Just because fascism and communism were
+once forced on reluctant populations, you think this holds true for
+all time. Go back to your books. In exactly the same era democracy
+and self-government were adapted by former colonial states, like
+India and the Union of North Africa, and the only violence was
+between local religious groups. Change is the lifeblood of mankind.
+Everything we today accept as normal was at one time an innovation.
+And one of the most recent innovations is the attempt to guide the
+societies of mankind into something more consistent with the
+personal happiness of individuals."
+
+"The God complex," Brion said; "forcing human lives into a mold
+whether they want to be fitted into it or not."
+
+"Societies can be that," Ihjel agreed. "It was in the beginning, and
+there were some disastrous results of attempts to force populations
+into a political climate where they didn't belong. They weren't all
+failures--Anvhar here is a striking example of how good the
+technique can be when correctly applied. It's not done this way any
+more, though. As with all of the other sciences, we have found out
+that the more we know, the more there is to know. We no longer
+attempt to guide cultures towards what we consider a beneficial
+goal. There are too many goals, and from our limited vantage point
+it is hard to tell the good ones from the bad ones. All we do now
+is try to protect the growing cultures, give a little jolt to the
+stagnating ones--and bury the dead ones. When the work was first
+done here on Anvhar the theory hadn't progressed that far. The
+understandably complex equations that determine just where in the
+scale from a Type I to a Type V a culture is, had not yet been
+completed. The technique then was to work out an artificial culture
+that would be most beneficial for a planet, then bend it into the
+mold."
+
+"How can that be done?" Brion asked. "How was it done here?"
+
+"We've made some progress--you're finally asking 'how.' The
+technique here took a good number of agents, and a great deal of
+money. Personal honor was emphasized in order to encourage dueling,
+and this led to a heightened interest in the technique of personal
+combat. When this was well intrenched Giroldi was brought in, and
+he showed how organized competitions could be more interesting than
+haphazard encounters. Tying the intellectual aspects onto the
+framework of competitive sports was a little more difficult, but
+not overwhelmingly so. The details aren't important; all we are
+considering now is the end product. Which is you. You're needed
+very much."
+
+"Why me?" Brion asked. "Why am I special? Because I won the
+Twenties? I can't believe that. Taken objectively, there isn't that
+much difference between myself and the ten runner-ups. Why don't you
+ask one of them? They could do your job as well as I."
+
+"No, they couldn't. I'll tell you later why you are the only man
+I can use. Our time is running out and I must convince you of some
+other things first." Ihjel glanced at his watch. "We have less than
+three hours to dead-deadline. Before that time I must explain enough
+of our work to you to enable you to decide voluntarily to join us."
+
+"A very tall order," Brion said. "You might begin by telling me just
+who this mysterious 'we' is that you keep referring to."
+
+"The Cultural Relationships Foundation. A non-governmental body,
+privately endowed, existing to promote peace and ensure the
+sovereign welfare of independent planets, so that all will prosper
+from the good will and commerce thereby engendered."
+
+"Sounds as if you're quoting," Brion told him. "No one could
+possibly make up something that sounds like that on the spur of
+the moment."
+
+"I _was_ quoting, from our charter of organization. Which is all
+very fine in a general sense, but I'm talking specifically now.
+About you. You are the product of a tightly knit and very advanced
+society. Your individuality has been encouraged by your growing up
+in a society so small in population that a mild form of government
+control is necessary. The normal Anvharian education is an excellent
+one, and participation in the Twenties has given you a general and
+advanced education second to none in the galaxy. It would be a
+complete waste of your entire life if you now took all this training
+and wasted it on some rustic farm."
+
+"You give me very little credit. I plan to teach--"
+
+"Forget Anvhar!" Ihjel cut him off with a chop of his hand. "This
+world will roll on quite successfully whether you are here or not.
+You must forget it, think of its relative unimportance on a galactic
+scale, and consider instead the existing, suffering hordes of
+mankind. You must think what you can do to help them."
+
+"But what can I do--as an individual? The day is long past when
+a single man, like Caesar or Alexander, could bring about
+world-shaking changes."
+
+"True--but not true," Ihjel said. "There are key men in every
+conflict of forces, men who act like catalysts applied at the right
+instant to start a chemical reaction. You might be one of these men,
+but I must be honest and say that I can't prove it yet. So in order
+to save time and endless discussion, I think I will have to spark
+your personal sense of obligation."
+
+"Obligation to whom?"
+
+"To mankind, of course, to the countless billions of dead who kept
+the whole machine rolling along that allows you the full, long and
+happy life you enjoy today. What they gave to you, you must pass on
+to others. This is the keystone of humanistic morals."
+
+"Agreed. And a very good argument in the long run. But not one that
+is going to tempt me out of this bed within the next three hours."
+
+"A point of success," Ihjel said. "You agree with the general
+argument. Now I apply it specifically to you. Here is the statement
+I intend to prove. There exists a planet with a population of seven
+million people. Unless I can prevent it, this planet will be
+completely destroyed. It is my job to stop that destruction, so that
+is where I am going now. I won't be able to do the job alone. In
+addition to others, I need you. Not anyone like you--but you, and
+you alone."
+
+"You have precious little time left to convince me of all that,"
+Brion told him, "so let me make the job easier for you. The work you
+do, this planet, the imminent danger of the people there--these are
+all facts that you can undoubtedly supply. I'll take a chance that
+this whole thing is not a colossal bluff, and admit that given time,
+you could verify them all. This brings the argument back to me
+again. How can you possibly prove that I am the only person in the
+galaxy who can help you?"
+
+"I can prove it by your singular ability, the thing I came here to
+find."
+
+"Ability? I am different in no way from the other men on my planet."
+
+"You're wrong," Ihjel said. "You are the embodied proof of
+evolution. Rare individuals with specific talents occur constantly
+in any species, man included. It has been two generations since an
+empathetic was last born on Anvhar, and I have been watching
+carefully most of that time."
+
+"What in blazes is an empathetic--and how do you recognize it when
+you have found it?" Brion chuckled, this talk was getting
+preposterous.
+
+"I can recognize one because I'm one myself--there is no other way.
+As to how projective empathy works, you had a demonstration of that
+a little earlier, when you felt those strange thoughts about Anvhar.
+It will be a long time before you can master that, but receptive
+empathy is your natural trait. This is mentally entering into the
+feeling, or what could be called the spirit of another person.
+Empathy is not thought perception; it might better be described
+as the sensing of someone else's emotional makeup, feelings and
+attitudes. You can't lie to a trained empathetic, because he can
+sense the real attitude behind the verbal lies. Even your
+undeveloped talent has proved immensely useful in the Twenties.
+You can outguess your opponent because you know his movements
+even as his body tenses to make them. You accept this without
+ever questioning it."
+
+"How do you know?" This was Brion's understood, but never voiced secret.
+
+Ihjel smiled. "Just guessing. But I won the Twenties too, remember,
+also without knowing a thing about empathy at the time. On top of
+our normal training, it's a wonderful trait to have. Which brings me
+to the proof we mentioned a minute ago. When you said you would be
+convinced if I could prove you were the only person who could help
+me. I _believe_ you are--and that is one thing I cannot lie about.
+It's possible to lie about a belief verbally, to have a falsely
+based belief, or to change a belief. But you can't lie about it to
+yourself.
+
+"Equally important--you can't lie about a belief to an empathetic.
+Would you like to see how I feel about this? 'See' is a bad
+word--there is no vocabulary yet for this kind of thing. Better,
+would you join me in my feelings? Sense my attitudes, memories and
+emotions just as I do?"
+
+Brion tried to protest, but he was too late. The doors of his senses
+were pushed wide and he was overwhelmed.
+
+"Dis ..." Ihjel said aloud. "Seven million people ... hydrogen bombs
+... Brion Brandd." These were just key words, landmarks of
+association. With each one Brion felt the rushing wave of the other
+man's emotions.
+
+There could be no lies here--Ihjel was right in that. This was the
+raw stuff that feelings are made of, the basic reactions to the
+things and symbols of memory.
+
+DIS ... DIS ... DIS ... it was a word it was a planet and the word
+thundered like a drum a drum the sound of its thunder surrounded
+               and was a wasteland a planet
+                 of death a planet where
+                   living was dying and
+                       dying was very
+                         better than
+                           living
+
+  crude barbaric            DIS         hot burning scorching
+    backward miserable                wasteland of sands
+      dirty beneath                 and sands and sands and
+        consideration             sands that burned had
+          planet                 burned will burn forever
+                                 the people of this planet so
+                                   crude dirty miserable barbaric
+                                     sub-human in-human
+                                       less-than-human
+                      but
+                          they
+                               were
+                                    going
+                                          to
+                                              be
+                              DEAD
+
+  and DEAD they would be seven million blackened corpses
+      that would blacken your dreams all dreams dreams
+                  forever because those
+                H Y D R O G E N   B O M B S
+                        were waiting
+                          to kill
+                          them unless .. unless .. unless ..
+  you Ihjel stopped it you Ihjel (DEATH) you (DEATH)
+      you (DEATH) alone couldn't do it you (DEATH)
+                  must have
+  BRION BRANDD wet-behind-the-ears-raw-untrained-
+    Brion-Brandd-to-help-you he was the only one in the
+    galaxy who could finish the job..................................
+
+As the flow of sensation died away, Brion realized he was sprawled
+back weakly on his pillows, soaked with sweat, washed with the
+memory of the raw emotion. Across from him Ihjel sat with his face
+bowed in his hands. When he lifted his head Brion saw within his
+eyes a shadow of the blackness he had just experienced.
+
+"Death," Brion said. "That terrible feeling of death. It wasn't just
+the people of Dis who would die. It was something more personal."
+
+"Myself," Ihjel said, and behind this simple word were the repeated
+echoes of night that Brion had been made aware of with his newly
+recognized ability. "My own death, not too far away. This is the
+wonderfully terrible price you must pay for your talent. _Angst_ is
+an inescapable part of empathy. It is a part of the whole unknown
+field of psi phenomena that seems to be independent of time. Death
+is so traumatic and final that it reverberates back along the time
+line. The closer I get, the more aware of it I am. There is no exact
+feeling of date, just a rough location in time. That is the horror
+of it. I _know_ I will die soon after I get to Dis--and long before
+the work there is finished. I know the job to be done there, and I
+know the men who have already failed at it. I also know you are the
+only person who can possibly complete the work I have started. Do
+you agree now? Will you come with me?"
+
+"Yes, of course," Brion said. "I'll go with you."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+"I've never seen anyone quite as angry as that doctor," Brion said.
+
+"Can't blame him." Ihjel shifted his immense weight and grunted from
+the console, where he was having a coded conversation with the
+ship's brain. He hit the keys quickly, and read the answer from the
+screen. "You took away his medical moment of glory. How many times
+in his life will he have a chance to nurse back to rugged smiling
+health the triumphantly exhausted Winner of the Twenties?"
+
+"Not many, I imagine. The wonder of it is how you managed to
+convince him that you and the ship here could take care of me
+as well as his hospital could."
+
+"I could never convince him of that," Ihjel said. "But I and the
+Cultural Relationships Foundation have some powerful friends on
+Anvhar. I'm forced to admit I brought a little pressure to bear."
+He leaned back and read the course tape as it streamed out of the
+printer. "We have a little time to spare, but I would rather spend
+it waiting at the other end. We'll blast as soon as I have you tied
+down in a stasis field."
+
+The completeness of the stasis field leaves no impressions on the
+body or mind. In it there is no weight, no pressure, no pain--no
+sensation of any kind. Except for a stasis of very long duration,
+there is no sensation of time. To Brion's consciousness, Ihjel
+flipped the switch off with a continuation of the same motion that
+had turned it on. The ship was unchanged, only outside of the port
+was the red-shot blankness of jump-space.
+
+"How do you feel?" Ihjel asked.
+
+Apparently the ship was wondering the same thing. Its detector unit,
+hovering impatiently just outside of Brion's stasis field, darted
+down and settled on his bare forearm. The doctor back on Anvhar had
+given the medical section of the ship's brain a complete briefing.
+A quick check of a dozen factors of Brion's metabolism was compared
+to the expected norm. Apparently everything was going well, because
+the only reaction was the expected injection of vitamins and glucose.
+
+"I can't say I'm feeling wonderful yet," Brion answered, levering
+himself higher on the pillows. "But every day it's a bit
+better--steady progress."
+
+"I hope so, because we have about two weeks before we get to Dis.
+Do you think you'll be back in shape by that time?"
+
+"No promises," Brion said, giving a tentative squeeze to one bicep.
+"It should be enough time, though. Tomorrow I start mild exercise
+and that will tighten me up again. Now--tell me more about Dis and
+what you have to do there."
+
+"I'm not going to do it twice, so just save your curiosity awhile.
+We're heading for a rendezvous point now to pick up another
+operator. This is going to be a three-man team, you, me and an
+exobiologist. As soon as he is aboard I'll do a complete briefing
+for you both at the same time. What you can do now is get your head
+into the language box and start working on your Disan. You'll want
+to speak it perfectly by the time we touchdown."
+
+With an autohypno for complete recall, Brion had no difficulty in
+mastering the grammar and vocabulary of Disan. Pronunciation was
+a different matter altogether. Almost all the word endings were
+swallowed, muffled or gargled. The language was rich in glottal
+stops, clicks and guttural strangling sounds. Ihjel stayed in a
+different part of the ship when Brion used the voice mirror and
+analysis scope, claiming that the awful noises interfered with
+his digestion.
+
+Their ship angled through jump-space along its calculated course. It
+kept its fragile human cargo warm, fed them and supplied breathable
+air. It had orders to worry about Brion's health, so it did,
+checking constantly against its recorded instructions and noting
+his steady progress. Another part of the ship's brain counted
+microseconds with moronic fixation, finally closing a relay when
+a predetermined number had expired in its heart. A light flashed
+and a buzzer hummed gently but insistently.
+
+Ihjel yawned, put away the report he had been reading, and started
+for the control room. He shuddered when he passed the room where
+Brion was listening to a playback of his Disan efforts.
+
+"Turn off that dying brontosaurus and get strapped in," he called
+through the thin door. "We're coming to the point of optimum
+possibility and we'll be dropping back into normal space soon."
+
+The human mind can ponder the incredible distances between the
+stars, but cannot possibly contain within itself a real
+understanding of them. Marked out on a man's hand an inch is a large
+unit of measure. In interstellar space a cubical area with sides
+a hundred thousand miles long is a microscopically fine division.
+Light crosses this distance in a fraction of a second. To a ship
+moving with a relative speed far greater than that of light, this
+measuring unit is even smaller. Theoretically, it appears impossible
+to find a particular area of this size. Technologically, it was a
+repeatable miracle that occurred too often to even be interesting.
+
+Brion and Ihjel were strapped in when the jump-drive cut off
+abruptly, lurching them back into normal space and time. They didn't
+unstrap, but just sat and looked at the dimly distant pattern of
+stars. A single sun, apparently of fifth magnitude, was their only
+neighbor in this lost corner of the universe. They waited while the
+computer took enough star sights to triangulate a position in three
+dimensions, muttering to itself electronically while it did the
+countless calculations to find their position. A warning bell chimed
+and the drive cut on and off so quickly that the two acts seemed
+simultaneous. This happened again, twice, before the brain was
+satisfied it had made as good a fix as possible and flashed a
+NAVIGATION POWER OFF light. Ihjel unstrapped, stretched, and made
+them a meal.
+
+Ihjel had computed their passage time with precise allowances. Less
+than ten hours after they arrived a powerful signal blasted into
+their waiting receiver. They strapped in again as the NAVIGATION
+POWER ON signal blinked insistently.
+
+A ship had paused in flight somewhere relatively near in the vast
+volume of space. It had entered normal space just long enough to
+emit a signal of radio query on an assigned wave length. Ihjel's
+ship had detected this and instantly responded with a verifying
+signal. The passenger spacer had accepted this assurance and
+gracefully laid a ten-foot metal egg in space. As soon as this had
+cleared its jump field the parent ship vanished towards its
+destination, light years away.
+
+Ihjel's ship climbed up the signal it had received. This signal had
+been recorded and examined minutely. Angle, strength and Doppler
+movement were computed to find course and distance. A few minutes of
+flight were enough to get within range of the far weaker transmitter
+in the drop-capsule. Homing on this signal was so simple, a human
+pilot could have done it himself. The shining sphere loomed up, then
+vanished out of sight of the viewports as the ship rotated to bring
+the spacelock into line. Magnetic clamps cut in when they made
+contact.
+
+"Go down and let the bug-doctor in," Ihjel said. "I'll stay and
+monitor the board in case of trouble."
+
+"What do I have to do?"
+
+"Get into a suit and open the outer lock. Most of the drop sphere is
+made of inflatable metallic foil, so don't bother to look for the
+entrance. Just cut a hole in it with the oversize can-opener you'll
+find in the tool box. After Dr. Morees gets aboard jettison the
+thing. Only get the radio and locator unit out first--it gets used
+again."
+
+The tool did look like a giant can-opener. Brion carefully felt the
+resilient metal skin that covered the lock entrance, until he was
+sure there was nothing on the other side. Then he jabbed the point
+through and cut a ragged hole in the thin foil. Dr. Morees boiled
+out of the sphere, knocking Brion aside.
+
+"What's the matter?" Brion asked.
+
+There was no radio on the other's suit; he couldn't answer. But he
+did shake his fist angrily. The helmet ports were opaque, so there
+was no way to tell what expressions went with the gesture. Brion
+shrugged and turned back to salvaging the equipment pack, pushing
+the punctured balloon free and sealing the lock. When pressure was
+pumped back to ship-normal, he cracked his helmet and motioned the
+other to do the same.
+
+"You're a pack of dirty lying dogs!" Dr. Morees said when the helmet
+came off. Brion was completely baffled. Dr. Lea Morees had long dark
+hair, large eyes, and a delicately shaped mouth now taut with anger.
+Dr. Morees was a woman.
+
+"Are you the filthy swine responsible for this atrocity?" Dr. Morees
+asked menacingly.
+
+"In the control room," Brion said quickly, knowing when cowardice
+was preferable to valor. "A man named Ihjel. There's a lot of him
+to hate, you can have a good time doing it. I just joined up
+myself...." He was talking to her back as she stormed from the room.
+Brion hurried after her, not wanting to miss the first human spark
+of interest in the trip to date.
+
+"Kidnapped! Lied to, and forced against my will! There is no court
+in the galaxy that won't give you the maximum sentence, and I'll
+scream with pleasure as they roll your fat body into solitary--"
+
+"They shouldn't have sent a woman," Ihjel said, completely ignoring
+her words. "I asked for a highly qualified exobiologist for a
+difficult assignment. Someone young and tough enough to do field
+work under severe conditions. So the recruiting office sends me the
+smallest female they can find, one who'll melt in the first rain."
+
+"I will not!" Lea shouted. "Female resiliency is a well-known fact,
+and I'm in far better condition than the average woman. Which has
+nothing to do with what I'm telling you. I was hired for a job in
+the university on Moller's World and signed a contract to that
+effect. Then this bully of an agent tells me the contract has been
+changed--read subparagraph 189-C or some such nonsense--and I'll be
+transhipping. He stuffed me into that suffocating basketball without
+a by-your-leave and they threw me overboard. If that is not a
+violation of personal privacy--"
+
+"Cut a new course, Brion," Ihjel broke in. "Find the nearest settled
+planet and head us there. We have to drop this woman and find a man
+for this job. We are going to what is undoubtedly the most
+interesting planet an exobiologist ever conceived of, but we need
+a man who can take orders and not faint when it gets too hot."
+
+Brion was lost. Ihjel had done all the navigating and Brion had no
+idea how to begin a search like this.
+
+"Oh, no you don't," Lea said. "You don't get rid of me that easily.
+I placed first in my class, and most of the five hundred other
+students were male. This is only a man's universe because the men
+say so. What is the name of this garden planet where we are going?"
+
+"Dis. I'll give you a briefing as soon as I get this ship on
+course." He turned to the controls and Lea slipped out of her suit
+and went into the lavatory to comb her hair. Brion closed his mouth,
+aware suddenly it had been open for a long time. "Is that what you
+call applied psychology?" he asked.
+
+"Not really. She was going to go along with the job in the
+end--since she did sign the contract even if she didn't read the
+fine print--but not until she had exhausted her feelings. I just
+shortened the process by switching her onto the male-superiority
+hate. Most women who succeed in normally masculine fields have a
+reflexive antipathy there; they have been hit on the head with it
+so much."
+
+He fed the course tape into the console and scowled. "But there was
+a good chunk of truth in what I said. I wanted a young, fit and
+highly qualified biologist from recruiting. I never thought they
+would find a female one--and it's too late to send her back now.
+Dis is no place for a woman."
+
+"Why?" Brion asked, as Lea appeared in the doorway.
+
+"Come inside, and I'll show you both," Ihjel said.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+"Dis," Ihjel said, consulting a thick file, "third planet out from
+its primary, Epsilon Eridani. The fourth planet is Nyjord--remember
+that, because it is going to be very important. Dis is a place you
+need a good reason to visit and no reason at all to leave. Too hot,
+too dry; the temperature in the temperate zones rarely drops below
+a hundred Fahrenheit. The planet is nothing but scorched rock and
+burning sand. Most of the water is underground and normally
+inaccessible. The surface water is all in the form of briny,
+chemically saturated swamps--undrinkable without extensive
+processing. All the facts and figures are here in the folder and
+you can study them later. Right now I want you just to get the idea
+that this planet is as loathsome and inhospitable as they come. So
+are the people. This is a solido of a Disan."
+
+Lea gasped at the three-dimensional representation on the screen.
+Not at the physical aspects of the man; as a biologist trained in
+the specialty of alien life she had seen a lot stranger sights.
+It was the man's pose, the expression on his face--tensed to leap,
+his lips drawn back to show all of this teeth.
+
+"He looks as if he wanted to kill the photographer," she said.
+
+"He almost did--just after the picture was taken. Like all Disans,
+he has an overwhelming hatred and loathing of offworlders. Not
+without good reason, though. His planet was settled completely by
+chance during the Breakdown. I'm not sure of the details, but the
+overall picture is clear, since the story of their desertion forms
+the basis of all the myths and animistic religions on Dis.
+
+"Apparently there were large-scale mining operations carried on
+there once; the world is rich enough in minerals and mining them
+is very simple. But water came only from expensive extraction
+processes and I imagine most of the food came from offworld. Which
+was good enough until the settlement was forgotten, the way a lot
+of other planets were during the Breakdown. All the records were
+destroyed in the fighting, and the ore carriers were pressed into
+military service. Dis was on its own. What happened to the people
+there is a tribute to the adaptation possibilities of homo sapiens.
+Individuals died, usually in enormous pain, but the race lived.
+Changed a good deal, but still human. As the water and food ran out
+and the extraction machinery broke down, they must have made heroic
+efforts to survive. They couldn't do it mechanically, but by the
+time the last machine collapsed, enough people were adjusted to
+the environment to keep the race going.
+
+"Their descendants are still there, completely adapted to the
+environment. Their body temperatures are around a hundred and thirty
+degrees. They have specialized tissue in the gluteal area for
+storing water. These are minor changes, compared to the major ones
+they have done in fitting themselves for this planet. I don't know
+the exact details, but the reports are very enthusiastic about
+symbiotic relationships. They assure us that this is the first time
+homo sapiens has been an active part of either commensalism or
+inquilinism other than in the role of host."
+
+"Wonderful!" Lea exclaimed.
+
+"Is it?" Ihjel scowled. "Perhaps from the abstract scientific point
+of view. If you can keep notes perhaps you might write a book about
+it some time. But I'm not interested. I'm sure all these
+morphological changes and disgusting intimacies will fascinate you,
+Dr. Morees. But while you are counting blood types and admiring your
+thermometers, I hope you will be able to devote a little time to a
+study of the Disans' obnoxious personalities. We must either find
+out what makes these people tick--or we are going to have to stand
+by and watch the whole lot blown up!"
+
+"Going to do what!" Lea gasped. "Destroy them? Wipe out this
+fascinating genetic pool? Why?
+
+"Because they are so incredibly loathsome, that's why!" Ihjel said.
+"These aboriginal hotheads have managed to lay their hands on some
+primitive cobalt bombs. They want to light the fuse and drop these
+bombs on Nyjord, the next planet. Nothing said or done can convince
+them differently. They demand unconditional surrender, or else. This
+is impossible for a lot of reasons--most important, because the
+Nyjorders would like to keep their planet for their very own. They
+have tried every kind of compromise but none of them works. The
+Disans are out to commit racial suicide. A Nyjord fleet is now over
+Dis and the deadline has almost expired for the surrender of the
+cobalt bombs. The Nyjord ships carry enough H-bombs to turn the
+entire planet into an atomic pile. That is what we must stop."
+
+Brion looked at the solido on the screen, trying to make some
+judgment of the man. Bare, horny feet. A bulky, ragged length of
+cloth around the waist was the only garment. What looked like a
+piece of green vine was hooked over one shoulder. From a plaited
+belt were suspended a number of odd devices made of hand-beaten
+metal, drilled stone and looped leather. The only recognizable item
+was a thin knife of unusual design. Loops of piping, flared bells,
+carved stones tied in senseless patterns of thonging gave the rest
+of the collection a bizarre appearance. Perhaps they had some
+religious significance. But the well-worn and handled look of most
+of them gave Brion an uneasy sensation. If they were used--what in
+the universe could they be used _for_?
+
+"I can't believe it," he finally concluded. "Except for the exotic
+hardware, this lowbrow looks as if he has sunk back into the Stone
+Age. I don't see how his kind can be any real threat to another
+planet."
+
+"The Nyjorders believe it, and that's good enough for me," Ihjel
+said. "They are paying our Cultural Relationships Foundation a good
+sum to try and prevent this war. Since they are our employers, we
+must do what they ask." Brion ignored this large lie, since it was
+obviously designed as an explanation for Lea. But he made a mental
+note to query Ihjel later about the real situation.
+
+"Here are the tech reports." Ihjel dropped them on the table. "Dis
+has some spacers as well as the cobalt bombs--though these aren't
+the real threat. A tramp trader was picked up _leaving_ Dis. It had
+delivered a jump-space launcher that can drop those bombs on Nyjord
+while anchored to the bedrock of Dis. While essentially a peaceful
+and happy people, the Nyjorders were justifiably annoyed at this and
+convinced the tramp's captain to give them some more information.
+It's all here. Boiled down, it gives a minimum deadline by which
+time the launcher can be set up and start throwing bombs."
+
+"When is that deadline?" Lea asked.
+
+"In ten more days. If the situation hasn't been changed drastically
+by then, the Nyjorders are going to wipe all life from the face of
+Dis. I assure you they don't want to do it. But they will drop the
+bombs in order to assure their own survival."
+
+"What am I supposed to do?" Lea asked, flipping the pages of the
+report. "I don't know a thing about nucleonics or jump-space. I'm
+an exobiologist, with a supplementary degree in anthropology. What
+help could I possibly be?"
+
+Ihjel looked down at her, stroking his jaw, fingers sunk deep into
+the rolls of flesh. "My faith in our recruiters is restored," he
+said. "That's a combination that is probably rare--even on Earth.
+You're as scrawny as an underfed chicken, but young enough to
+survive if we keep a close eye on you." He cut off Lea's angry
+protest with a raised hand. "No more bickering. There isn't time.
+The Nyjorders must have lost over thirty agents trying to find the
+bombs. Our foundation has had six people killed--including my late
+predecessor in charge of the project. He was a good man, but I think
+he went at this problem the wrong way. I think it is a cultural one,
+not a physical one."
+
+"Run it through again with the power turned up," Lea said, frowning.
+"All I hear is static."
+
+"It's the old problem of genesis. Like Newton and the falling apple,
+Levy and the hysteresis in the warp field. Everything has a
+beginning. If we can find out why these people are so hell-bent on
+suicide we might be able to change the reasons. Not that I intend
+to stop looking for the bombs or the jump-space generator either.
+We are going to try anything that will avert this planetary murder."
+
+"You're a lot brighter than you look," Lea said, rising and
+carefully stacking the sheets of the report. "You can count on me
+for complete cooperation. Now I'll study all this in bed if one of
+you overweight gentlemen will show me to a room with a strong lock
+on the inside of the door. Don't call me; I'll call you when I want
+breakfast."
+
+Brion wasn't sure how much of her barbed speech was humor and how
+much was serious, so he said nothing. He showed her to an empty
+cabin--she did lock the door--then looked for Ihjel. The Winner was
+in the galley adding to his girth with an immense gelatin dessert
+that filled a good-sized tureen.
+
+"Is she short for a native Terran?" Brion asked. "The top of her
+head is below my chin."
+
+"That's the norm. Earth is a reservoir of tired genes. Weak backs,
+vermiform appendixes, bad eyes. If they didn't have the universities
+and the trained people we need I would never use them."
+
+"Why did you lie to her about the Foundation?"
+
+"Because it's a secret--isn't that reason enough?" Ihjel rumbled
+angrily, scraping the last dregs from the bowl. "Better eat
+something. Build up the strength. The Foundation has to maintain its
+undercover status if it is going to accomplish anything. If she
+returns to Earth after this it's better that she should know nothing
+of our real work. If she joins up, there'll be time enough to tell
+her. But I doubt if she will like the way we operate. Particularly
+since I plan to drop some H-bombs on Dis myself--if we can't turn
+off the war."
+
+"I don't believe it!"
+
+"You heard me correctly. Don't bulge your eyes and look moronic.
+As a last resort I'll drop the bombs myself rather than let the
+Nyjorders do it. That might save them."
+
+"Save them--they'd all be radiated and dead!" Brion's voice rose
+in anger.
+
+"Not the Disans. I want to save the Nyjorders. Stop clenching your
+fists and sit down and have some of this cake. It's delicious. The
+Nyjorders are all that counts here. They have a planet blessed by
+the laws of chance. When Dis was cut off from outside contact, the
+survivors turned into a gang of swampcrawling homicidals. It did the
+opposite for Nyjord. You can survive there just by pulling fruit off
+a tree. The population was small, educated, intelligent. Instead of
+sinking into an eternal siesta they matured into a vitally different
+society. Not mechanical--they weren't even using the wheel when they
+were rediscovered. They became sort of cultural specialists, digging
+deep into the philosophical aspects of interrelationship--the thing
+that machine societies never have had time for. Of course this was
+ready-made for the Cultural Relationships Foundation, and we have
+been working with them ever since. Not guiding so much as protecting
+them from any blows that might destroy this growing idea. But we've
+fallen down on the job. Nonviolence is essential to these
+people--they have vitality without needing destruction. But if they
+are forced to blow up Dis for their own survival--against every one
+of their basic tenets--their philosophy won't endure. Physically
+they'll live on, as just one more dog-eat-dog planet with an A-bomb
+for any of the competition who drop behind."
+
+"Sounds like paradise now."
+
+"Don't be smug. It's just another worldful of people with the same
+old likes, dislikes and hatreds. But they are evolving a way of
+living together, without violence, that may some day form the key to
+mankind's survival. They are worth looking after. Now get below and
+study your Disan and read the reports. Get it all pat before we
+land."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+"Identify yourself, please." The quiet words from the speaker in no
+way appeared to coincide with the picture on the screen. The spacer
+that had matched their orbit over Dis had recently been a freighter.
+A quick conversion had tacked the hulking shape of a primary weapons
+turret on top of her hull. The black disc of the immense muzzle
+pointed squarely at them. Ihjel switched open the ship-to-ship
+communication channel.
+
+"This is Ihjel. Retinal pattern 490-BJ4-67--which is also the code
+that is supposed to get me through your blockade. Do you want to
+check that pattern?"
+
+"There will be no need, thank you. If you will turn on your recorder
+I have a message relayed to you from Prime-four."
+
+"Recording and out," Ihjel said. "Damn! Trouble already, and four
+days to blowup. Prime-four is our headquarters on Dis. This ship
+carries a cover cargo so we can land at the spaceport. This is
+probably a change of plan and I don't like the smell of it."
+
+There was something behind Ihjel's grumbling this time, and without
+conscious effort Brion could sense the chilling touch of the other
+man's _angst_. Trouble was waiting for them on the planet below.
+When the message was typed by the decoder Ihjel hovered over it,
+reading each word as it appeared on the paper. When it was finished
+he only snorted and went below to the galley. Brion pulled the
+message out of the machine and read it.
+
+     IHJEL IHJEL IHJEL SPACEPORT LANDING DANGER NIGHT
+     LANDING PREFERABLE COORDINATES MAP 46 J92 MN75
+     REMOTE YOUR SHIP VION WILL MEET END END END
+
+Dropping into the darkness was safe enough. It was done on
+instruments, and the Disans were thought to have no detection
+apparatus. The altimeter dials spun backwards to zero and a soft
+vibration was the only indication they had landed. All of the cabin
+lights were off except for the fluorescent glow of the instruments.
+A white-speckled grey filled the infra-red screen, radiation from
+the still warm sand and stone. There were no moving blips on it,
+not the characteristic shape of a shielded atomic generator.
+
+"We're here first," Ihjel said, opaqueing the ports and turning on
+the cabin lights. They blinked at each other, faces damp with
+perspiration.
+
+"Must you have the ship this hot?" Lea asked, patting her forehead
+with an already sodden kerchief. Stripped of her heavier clothing,
+she looked even tinier to Brion. But the thin cloth tunic--reaching
+barely halfway to her knees--concealed very little. Small she may
+have appeared to him: unfeminine she was not. Her breasts were full
+and high, her waist tiny enough to offset the outward curve of her
+hips.
+
+"Shall I turn around so you can stare at the back too?" she asked
+Brion. Five days' experience had taught him that this type of remark
+was best ignored. It only became worse if he tried to make an
+intelligent answer.
+
+"Dis is hotter than this cabin," he said, changing the subject.
+"By raising the interior temperature we can at least prevent any
+sudden shock when we go out--"
+
+"I know the theory--but it doesn't stop me from sweating," she said
+curtly.
+
+"Best thing you can do is sweat." Ihjel said. He looked like a
+glistening captive balloon in shorts. Finishing a bottle of beer,
+he took another from the freezer. "Have a beer."
+
+"No, thank you. I'm afraid it would dissolve the last shreds of
+tissue and my kidneys would float completely away. On Earth we
+never--"
+
+"Get Professor Morees' luggage for her," Ihjel interrupted. "Vion's
+coming, there's his signal. I'm sending this ship up before any of
+the locals spot it."
+
+When he cracked the outer port the puff of air struck them like the
+exhaust from a furnace, dry and hot as a tongue of flame. Brion
+heard Lea's gasp in the darkness. She stumbled down the ramp and he
+followed her slowly, careful of the weight of packs and equipment he
+carried. The sand, still hot from the day, burned through his boots.
+Ihjel came last, the remote-control unit in his hand. As soon as
+they were clear he activated it and the ramp slipped back like a
+giant tongue. As soon as the lock had swung shut, the ship lifted
+and drifted upwards silently towards its orbit, a shrinking darkness
+against the stars.
+
+There was just enough starlight to see the sandy wastes around them,
+as wave-filled as a petrified sea. The dark shape of a sand car drew
+up over a dune and hummed to a stop. When the door opened Ihjel
+stepped towards it and everything happened at once.
+
+Ihjel broke into a blue nimbus of crackling flame, his skin
+blackening, charred. He was dead in an instant. A second pillar of
+flame bloomed next to the car, and a choking scream was cut off at
+the moment it began. Ihjel died silently.
+
+Brion was diving even as the electrical discharges still crackled in
+the air. The boxes and packs dropped from him and he slammed against
+Lea, knocking her to the ground. He hoped she had the sense to stay
+there and be quiet. This was his only conscious thought, the rest
+was reflex. He was rolling over and over as fast as he could.
+
+The spitting electrical flames flared again, playing over the
+bundles of luggage he had dropped. This time Brion was expecting it,
+pressed flat on the ground a short distance away. He was facing the
+darkness away from the sand car and saw the brief, blue glow of the
+ion-rifle discharge. His own gun was in his hand. When Ihjel had
+given him the missile weapon he had asked no questions, but had just
+strapped it on. There had been no thought that he would need it this
+quickly. Holding it firmly before him in both hands, he let his
+body aim at the spot where the glow had been. A whiplash of
+explosive slugs ripped the night air. They found their target and
+something thrashed voicelessly and died.
+
+In the brief instant after he fired, a jarring weight landed on his
+back and a line of fire circled his throat. Normally he fought with
+a calm mind, with no thoughts other than of the contest. But Ihjel,
+a friend, a man of Anvhar, had died a few seconds before, and Brion
+found himself welcoming this physical violence and pain.
+
+There are many foolish and dangerous things that can be done, such
+as smoking next to high-octane fuel and putting fingers into
+electrical sockets. Just as dangerous, and equally deadly, is
+physically attacking a Winner of the Twenties.
+
+Two men hit Brion together, though this made very little difference.
+The first died suddenly as hands like steel claws found his neck and
+in a single spasmodic contraction did such damage to the large blood
+vessels there that they burst and tiny hemorrhages filled his brain.
+The second man had time for a single scream, though he died just as
+swiftly when those hands closed on his larynx.
+
+Running in a crouch, partially on his knuckles, Brion swiftly made
+a circle of the area, gun ready. There were no others. Only when
+he touched the softness of Lea's body did the blood anger seep from
+him. He was suddenly aware of the pain and fatigue, the sweat
+soaking his body and the breath rasping in his throat. Holstering
+the gun, he ran light fingers over her skull, finding a bruised spot
+on one temple. Her chest was rising and falling regularly. She had
+struck her head when he pushed her. It had undoubtedly saved her
+life.
+
+Sitting down suddenly, he let his body relax, breathing deeply.
+Everything was a little better now, except for the pain at his
+throat. His fingers found a thin strand on the side of his neck with
+a knobby weight on the end. There was another weight on his other
+shoulder and a thin line of pain across his neck. When he pulled on
+them both, the strangler's cord came away in his hand. It was thin
+fiber, strong as a wire. When it had been pulled around his neck it
+had sliced the surface skin and flesh like a knife, halted only by
+the corded bands of muscle below. Brion threw it from him, into the
+darkness where it had come from.
+
+He could think again, and he carefully kept his thoughts from the
+men he had killed. Knowing it was useless, he went to Ihjel's body.
+A single touch of the scorched flesh was enough. Behind him Lea
+moaned with returning consciousness and he hurried on to the sand
+car, stepping over the charred body outside the door. The driver
+slumped, dead, killed perhaps by the same strangling cord that had
+sunk into Brion's throat. He laid the man gently on the sand and
+closed the lids over the staring horror of the eyes. There was a
+canteen in the car and he brought it back to Lea.
+
+"My head--I've hurt my head," she said groggily.
+
+"Just a bruise," he reassured her. "Drink some of this water and
+you'll soon feel better. Lie back. Everything's over for the moment
+and you can rest."
+
+"Ihjel's dead!" Lea said with sudden shocked memory. "They've killed
+him! What's happened?" she tensed, tried to rise, and he pressed her
+back gently.
+
+"I'll tell you everything. Just don't try to get up yet. There was
+an ambush and they killed Vion and the driver of the sand car, as
+well as Ihjel. Three men did it and they're all dead now too. I
+don't think there are any more around, but if there are I'll hear
+them coming. We're just going to wait a few minutes until you feel
+better, then we're getting out of here in the car."
+
+"Bring the ship down!" There was a thin note of hysteria in her
+voice. "We can't stay here alone. We don't know where to go or what
+to do. With Ihjel dead, the whole thing's spoiled. We have to get
+out...."
+
+There are some things that can't sound gentle, no matter how gently
+they are said. This was one of them. "I'm sorry, Lea, but the ship
+is out of our reach right now. Ihjel was killed with an ion gun and
+it fused the control unit into a solid lump. We must take the car
+and get to the city. We'll do it now. See if you can stand up--I'll
+help you."
+
+She rose, not saying anything, and as they walked towards the car
+a single, reddish moon cleared the hills behind them. In its light
+Brion saw a dark line bisecting the rear panel of the sand car. He
+stopped abruptly. "What's the matter?" Lea asked.
+
+The unlocked engine cover could have only one significance and he
+pushed it open, knowing in advance what he would see. The attackers
+had been very thorough and fast. In the short time available to them
+they had killed the driver and the car as well. Ruddy light shone on
+torn wires, ripped out connections. Repair would be impossible.
+
+"I think we'll have to walk," he told her, trying to keep the gloom
+out of his voice. "This spot is roughly a hundred and fifty
+kilometres from the city of Hovedstad, where we have to go.
+We should be able to--"
+
+"We're going to die. We can't walk anywhere. This whole planet is a
+death trap. Let's get back in the ship!" The shrillness of hysteria
+was at the edge of her voice, as well as a subtle slurring of
+sounds.
+
+Brion didn't try to reason with her or bother to explain. She had a
+concussion from the blow, that much was obvious. He had her sit and
+rest while he made what preparations he could for the long walk.
+
+Clothing first. With each passing minute the desert air was growing
+colder as the day's heat ebbed away. Lea was beginning to shiver,
+and he took some heavier clothing from her charred bag and made her
+pull it on over her light tunic. There was little else that was
+worth carrying--the canteen from the car and a first-aid kit he
+found in one of the compartments. There were no maps and no radio.
+Navigation was obviously done by compass on this almost featureless
+desert. The car was equipped with an electrically operated
+gyrocompass, of no use to him now. But he did use it to check the
+direction of Hovedstad, as he remembered it from the map, and found
+it lined up perfectly with the tracks the car had cut into the
+sand. It had come directly from the city. They could find their way
+by back-tracking.
+
+Time was slipping away. He would have liked to bury Ihjel and the
+men from the car, but the night hours were too valuable to be
+wasted. The best he could do was put the three corpses in the car,
+for protection from the Disan animals. He locked the door and threw
+the key as far as he could into the blackness. Lea had slipped into
+a restless sleep and he carefully shook her awake.
+
+"Come," Brion said. "We have a little walking to do."
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+With the cool air and firmly packed sand under foot, walking should
+have been easy. Lea spoiled that. The concussion seemed to have
+temporarily cut off the reasoning part of her brain, leaving a
+direct connection to her vocal cords. As she stumbled along, only
+half conscious, she mumbled all of her darkest fears that were
+better left unvoiced. Occasionally there was relevancy in her
+complaints. They would lose their way, never find the city, die of
+thirst, freezing, heat or hunger. Interspersed and entwined with
+these were fears from her past that still floated, submerged in the
+timeless ocean of her subconscious. Some Brion could understand,
+though he tried not to listen. Fears of losing credits, not getting
+the highest grade, falling behind, a woman alone in a world of men,
+leaving school, being lost, trampled among the nameless hordes that
+struggled for survival in the crowded city-states of Earth.
+
+There were other things she was afraid of that made no sense to a
+man of Anvhar. Who were the alkians that seemed to trouble her? Or
+what was canceri? Daydle and haydle? Who was Manstan, whose name
+kept coming up, over and over, each time accompanied by a little
+moan?
+
+Brion stopped and picked her up in both arms. With a sigh she
+settled against the hard width of his chest and was instantly
+asleep. Even with the additional weight he made better time now, and
+he stretched to his fastest, kilometre-consuming stride to make good
+use of these best hours.
+
+Somewhere on a stretch of gravel and shelving rock he lost the track
+of the sand car. He wasted no time looking for it. By carefully
+watching the glistening stars rise and set he had made a good
+estimate of the geographic north. Dis didn't seem to have a pole
+star; however, a boxlike constellation turned slowly around the
+invisible point of the pole. Keeping this positioned in line with
+his right shoulder guided him on the westerly course he needed.
+
+When his arms began to grow tired he lowered Lea gently to the
+ground; she didn't wake. Stretching for an instant, before taking up
+his burden again, Brion was struck by the terrible loneliness of the
+desert. His breath made a vanishing mist against the stars; all else
+was darkness and silence. How distant he was from his home, his
+people, his planet! Even the constellations of the night sky were
+different. He was used to solitude, but this was a loneliness that
+touched some deep-buried instinct. A shiver that wasn't from the
+desert cold touched lightly along his spine, prickling at the hairs
+on his neck.
+
+It was time to go on. He shrugged the disquieting sensations off and
+carefully tied Lea into the jacket he had been wearing. Slung like a
+pack on his back, it made the walking easier. The gravel gave way to
+sliding dunes of sand that seemed to continue to infinity. It was a
+painful, slipping climb to the top of each one, then an equally
+difficult descent to the black-pooled hollow at the foot of the
+next.
+
+With the first lightening of the sky in the east he stopped, breath
+rasping in his chest, to mark his direction before the stars faded.
+One line scratched in the sand pointed due north, a second pointed
+out the course they should follow. When they were aligned to his
+satisfaction he washed his mouth out with a single swallow of water
+and sat on the sand next to the still form of the girl.
+
+Gold fingers of fire searched across the sky, wiping out the stars.
+It was magnificent; Brion forgot his fatigue in appreciation. There
+should be some way of preserving it. A quatrain would be best. Short
+enough to be remembered, yet requiring attention and skill to
+compact everything into it. He had scored high with his quatrains in
+the Twenties. This would be a special one. Taind, his poetry mentor,
+would have to get a copy.
+
+"What are you mumbling about?" Lea asked, looking up at the craggy
+blackness of his profile against the reddening sky.
+
+"Poem," he said. "Shhh. Just a minute."
+
+It was too much for Lea, coming after the tension and dangers of the
+night. She began to laugh, laughing even harder when he scowled at
+her. Only when she heard the tinge of growing hysteria did she make
+an attempt to break off the laughter. The sun cleared the horizon,
+washing a sudden warmth over them. Lea gasped.
+
+"Your throat's been cut! You're bleeding to death!"
+
+"Not really," he said, touching his fingertips lightly against the
+blood-clotted wound that circled his neck. "Just superficial."
+
+Depression sat on him as he suddenly remembered the battle and death
+of the previous night. Lea didn't notice his face; she was busy
+digging in the pack he had thrown down. He had to use his fingers to
+massage and force away the grimace of pain that twisted his mouth.
+Memory was more painful than the wound. How easily he had killed!
+Three men. How close to the surface of the civilized man the animal
+dwelled! In countless matches he had used those holds, always
+drawing back from the exertion of the full killing power. They were
+part of a game, part of the Twenties. Yet when his friend had been
+killed he had become a killer himself. He believed in nonviolence
+and the sanctity of life--until the first test, when he had killed
+without hesitation. More ironic was the fact he really felt no
+guilt, even now. Shock at the change, yes. But no more than that.
+
+"Lift your chin," Lea said, brandishing the antiseptic applicator
+she had found in the medicine kit. He lifted his chin obligingly and
+the liquid drew a cool, burning line across his neck. Antibio pills
+would do a lot more good, since the wound was completely clotted by
+now, but he didn't speak his thoughts aloud. For the moment Lea had
+forgotten herself in taking care of him. He put some of the
+antiseptic on her scalp bruise and she squeaked, pulling back.
+They both swallowed the pills.
+
+"That sun is hot already," Lea said, peeling off her heavy
+clothing. "Let's find a nice cool cave or an air-cooled saloon
+to crawl into for the day."
+
+"I don't think there are any here. Just sand. We have to walk--"
+
+"I know we have to walk," she interrupted. "There's no need for a
+lecture about it. You're as seriously cubical as the Bank of Terra.
+Relax. Count ten and start again." Lea was making empty talk while
+she listened to the memory of hysteria tittering at the fringes of
+her brain.
+
+"No time for that. We have to keep going." Brion climbed slowly to
+his feet after stowing everything in the pack. When he sighted along
+his marker at the western horizon he saw nothing to mark their
+course, only the marching dunes. He helped Lea to her feet and began
+walking slowly towards them.
+
+"Just hold on a second," Lea called after him. "Where do you think
+you're going?"
+
+"In that direction," he said, pointing. "I hoped there would be
+some landmarks, but there aren't. We'll have to keep on by dead
+reckoning. The sun will keep us pretty well on course. If we aren't
+there by night the stars will be a better guide."
+
+"All this on an empty stomach? How about breakfast? I'm hungry--and
+thirsty."
+
+"No food." He shook the canteen that gurgled emptily. It had been
+only partly filled when he found it. "The water's low and we'll need
+it later."
+
+"I need it now," she said shortly. "My mouth tastes like an
+unemptied ashtray and I'm dry as paper."
+
+"Just a single swallow," he said after the briefest hesitation.
+"This is all we have."
+
+Lea sipped at it with her eyes closed in appreciation. Then he
+sealed the top and returned it to the pack without taking any
+himself. They were sweating as they started up the first dune.
+
+The desert was barren of life; they were the only things moving
+under that merciless sun. Their shadows pointed the way ahead of
+them, and as the shadows shortened the heat rose. It had an
+intensity Lea had never experienced before, a physical weight that
+pushed at her with a searing hand. Her clothing was sodden with
+perspiration, and it trickled burning into her eyes. The light and
+heat made it hard to see, and she leaned on the immovable strength
+of Brion's arm. He walked on steadily, apparently ignoring the heat
+and discomfort.
+
+"I wonder if those things are edible--or store water?" Brion's voice
+was a harsh rasp. Lea blinked and squinted at the leathery shape on
+the summit of the dune. Plant or animal, it was hard to tell. It was
+the size of a man's head, wrinkled and grey as dried-out leather,
+knobbed with thick spikes. Brion pushed it up with his toe and they
+had a brief glimpse of a white roundness, like a shiny taproot,
+going down into the dune. Then the thing contracted, pulling itself
+lower into the sand. At the same instant something thin and sharp
+lashed out through a fold in the skin, striking at Brion's boot and
+withdrawing. There was a scratch on the hard plastic, beaded with
+drops of green liquid.
+
+"Probably poison," he said, digging his toe into the sand. "This
+thing is too mean to fool with--without a good reason. Let's keep
+going."
+
+It was before noon when Lea fell down. She really wanted to go on,
+but her body wouldn't obey. The thin soles of her shoes were no
+protection against the burning sand and her feet were lumps of raw
+pain. Heat hammered down, poured up from the sand and swirled her in
+an oven of pain. The air she gasped in was molten metal that dried
+and cracked her mouth. Each pulse of her heart throbbed blood to the
+wound in her scalp until it seemed her skull would burst with the
+agony. She had stripped down to the short tunic--in spite of Brion's
+insistence that she keep her body protected from the sun--and that
+clung to her, soaked with sweat. She tore at it in a desperate
+effort to breathe. There was no escape from the unending heat.
+
+Though the baked sand burned torture into her knees and hands,
+she couldn't rise. It took all her strength not to fall further.
+Her eyes closed and everything swirled in immense circles.
+
+Brion, blinking through slitted eyes, saw her go down. He lifted
+her, and carried her again as he had the night before. The hot touch
+of her body shocked his bare arms. Her skin was flushed pink. The
+tunic was torn open and one pointed breast rose and fell unevenly
+with the irregularity of her breathing. Wiping his palm free of
+sweat and sand, he touched her skin and felt the ominous hot
+dryness.
+
+Heat-shock, all the symptoms. Dry, flushed skin, the ragged
+breathing. Her temperature rising quickly as her body stopped
+fighting the heat and succumbed.
+
+There was nothing he could do here to protect her from the heat. He
+measured a tiny portion of the remaining water into her mouth and
+she swallowed convulsively. Her thin clothing was little protection
+from the sun. He could only take her in his arms and keep on towards
+the horizon. An outcropping of rock threw a tiny patch of shade and
+he walked towards it.
+
+The ground here, shielded from the direct rays of the sun, felt
+almost cool by contrast. Lea opened her eyes when he put her down,
+peering up at him through a haze of pain. She wanted to apologize to
+him for her weakness, but no words came from the dried membrane of
+her throat. His body above her seemed to swim back and forth in the
+heat waves, swaying like a tree in a high wind.
+
+Shock drove her eyes open, cleared her mind for an instant. He
+really was swaying. Suddenly she realized how much she had come to
+depend on the unending solidity of his strength--and now it was
+failing. All over his body the corded muscles contracted in ridges,
+striving to keep him erect. She saw his mouth pulled open by the
+taut cords of his neck, and the gaping, silent scream was more
+terrible than any sound. Then she herself screamed as his eyes
+rolled back, leaving only the empty white of the eyeballs staring
+terribly at her. He went over, back, down, like a felled tree,
+thudding heavily on the sand. Unconscious or dead, she couldn't
+tell. She pulled limply at his leg, but couldn't drag his immense
+weight into the shade.
+
+Brion lay on his back in the sun, sweating. Lea saw this and knew
+that he was still alive. Yet what was happening? She groped for
+memory in the red haze of her mind, but could remember nothing from
+her medical studies that would explain this. On every square inch of
+his body the sweat glands seethed with sudden activity. From every
+pore oozed great globules of oily liquid, far thicker than normal
+perspiration. Brion's arms rippled with motion and Lea gaped,
+horrified as the hairs there writhed and stirred as though endowed
+with separate life. His chest rose and fell rapidly, deep, gasping
+breaths racking his body. Lea could only stare through the dim
+redness of unreality and wonder if she was going mad before she
+died.
+
+A coughing fit broke the rhythm of his rasping breath, and when it
+was over his breathing was easier. The perspiration still covered
+his body, the individual beads touching and forming tiny streams
+that trickled down his body and vanished in the sand. He stirred and
+rolled onto his side, facing her. His eyes were open and normal now
+as he smiled.
+
+"Didn't mean to frighten you. It caught me suddenly coming at the
+wrong season and everything. It was a bit of a jar to my system.
+I'll get you some water now--there's still a bit left."
+
+"What happened? When you looked like that, when you fell...."
+
+"Take two swallows, no more," he said, holding the open canteen to
+her mouth. "Just summer change, that's all. It happens to us every
+year on Anvhar--only not that violently, of course. In the winter
+our bodies store a layer of fat under the skin for insulation, and
+sweating almost ceases completely. There are a lot of internal
+changes too. When the weather warms up the process is reversed. The
+fat is metabolized and the sweat glands enlarge and begin working
+overtime as the body prepares for two months of hard work, heat and
+little sleep. I guess the heat here triggered off the summer change
+early."
+
+"You mean--you've adapted to this terrible planet?"
+
+"Just about. Though it does feel a little warm. I'll need a lot
+more water soon, so we can't remain here. Do you think you can stand
+the sun if I carry you?"
+
+"No, but I won't feel any better staying here." She was
+light-headed, scarcely aware of what she said. "Keep going, I guess.
+Keep going."
+
+As soon as she was out of the shadow of the rock the sunlight burst
+over her again in a wave of hot pain. She fell unconscious at once.
+Brion picked her up and staggered forward. After a few yards, he
+began to feel the pull of the sand. He knew he was reaching the end
+of his strength. He went more slowly and each dune seemed a bit
+higher than the one before. Giant, sand-scoured rocks pushed through
+the dunes here and he had to stumble around them. At the base of
+the largest of these monoliths was a straggling clump of knotted
+vegetation. He passed it by--then stopped as something tried to
+penetrate his heat-crazed mind. What was it? A difference. Something
+about these plants that he hadn't noticed in any of the others
+he had passed during the day.
+
+It was almost like defeat to turn and push his clumsy feet backwards
+in his own footprints; to stand blinking helplessly at the plants.
+Yet they were important. Some of them had been cut off close to the
+sand. Not broken by any natural cause, but cut sharply and squarely
+by a knife or blade of some sort. The cut plants were long dried and
+dead, but a tiny hope flared up in him. This was the first sign that
+other people were actually alive on this heat-blasted planet. And
+whatever the plants had been cut for, they might be of aid to him.
+Food--perhaps drink. His hands trembled at the thought as he dropped
+Lea heavily into the shade of the rock. She didn't stir.
+
+His knife was sharp, but most of the strength was gone from his
+hands. Breath rasping in his dried throat, he sawed at the tough
+stem, finally cutting it through. Raising up the shrub, he saw
+a thick liquid dripping from the severed end. He braced his hand
+against his leg, so it wouldn't shake and spill, until his cupped
+palm was full of sap.
+
+It was wet, even a little cool as it evaporated. Surely it was
+mostly life-giving water. He had a moment's misgiving as he raised
+it to his lips, and instead of drinking it merely touched it with
+the tip of his tongue.
+
+At first nothing--then a searing pain. It stabbed deep into his
+throat and choked him. His stomach heaved and he vomited bitter
+bile. On his knees, fighting the waves of pain, he lost body fluid
+he vitally needed.
+
+Despair was worse than the pain. The plant juice must have some use;
+there must be a way of purifying it or neutralizing it. But Brion,
+a stranger on this planet, would be dead long before he found out
+how to do this.
+
+Weakened by the cramps that still tore at him, he tried not to
+realize how close to the end he was. Getting the girl on his back
+seemed an impossible task, and for an instant he was tempted to
+leave her there. Yet even as he considered this he shouldered her
+leaden weight and once more went on. Each footstep an effort, he
+followed his own track up the dune. Painfully he forced his way
+to the top, and looked at the Disan standing a few feet away.
+
+They were both too surprised by the sudden encounter to react at
+once. For a breath of time they stared at each other, unmoving. When
+they reacted it was the same defense of fear. Brion dropped the
+girl, bringing the gun up from the holster in the return of the same
+motion. The Disan jerked a belled tube from his waistband and raised
+it to his mouth.
+
+Brion didn't fire. A dead man had taught him how to train his
+empathetic sense, and to trust it. In spite of the fear that wanted
+him to jerk the trigger, a different sense read the unvoiced
+emotions of the native Disan. There was fear there, and hatred.
+Welling up around these was a strong desire not to commit violence,
+this time, to communicate instead. Brion felt and recognized all
+this in a fraction of a second. He had to act instantly to avoid a
+tragic happening. A jerk of his wrist threw the gun to one side.
+
+As soon as it was gone he regretted its loss. He was gambling their
+lives on an ability he still was not sure of. The Disan had the
+tube to his mouth when the gun hit the ground. He held the pose,
+unmoving, thinking. Then he accepted Brion's action and thrust the
+tube back into his waistband.
+
+"Do you have any water?" Brion asked, the guttural Disan words
+hurting his throat.
+
+"I have water," the man said. He still didn't move. "Who are you?
+What are you doing here?"
+
+"We're from offplanet. We had ... an accident. We want to go
+to the city. The water."
+
+The Disan looked at the unconscious girl and made his decision. Over
+one shoulder he wore one of the green objects that Brion remembered
+from the solido. He pulled it off and the thing writhed slowly in
+his hands. It was alive--a green length a metre long, like a noduled
+section of a thick vine. One end flared out into a petal-like
+formation. The Disan took a hook-shaped object from his waist and
+thrust it into the petaled orifice. When he turned the hook in a
+quick motion the length of green writhed and curled around his arm.
+He pulled something small and dark out and threw it to the ground,
+extending the twisting green shape towards Brion. "Put your mouth to
+the end and drink," he said.
+
+Lea needed the water more, but he drank first, suspicious of the
+living water source. A hollow below the writhing petals was filling
+with straw-colored water from the fibrous, reedy interior. He raised
+it to his mouth and drank. The water was hot and tasted swampy.
+Sudden sharp pains around his mouth made him jerk the thing away.
+Tiny glistening white barbs projected from the petals pink-tipped
+now with his blood. Brion swung towards the Disan angrily--and
+stopped when he looked at the other man's face. His mouth was
+surrounded by many small white scars.
+
+"The _vaede_ does not like to give up its water, but it always
+does," the man said.
+
+Brion drank again, then put the vaede to Lea's mouth. She moaned
+without regaining consciousness, her lips seeking reflexively for
+the life-saving liquid. When she was satisfied Brion gently drew the
+barbs from her flesh and drank again. The Disan hunkered down on
+his heels and watched them expressionlessly. Brion handed back the
+vaede, then held some of the clothes so that Lea was in their shade.
+He settled to the same position as the native and looked closely
+at him.
+
+Squatting immobile on his heels, the Disan appeared perfectly
+comfortable under the flaming sun. There was no trace of
+perspiration on his naked, browned skin. Long hair fell to his
+shoulders, and startlingly blue eyes stared back at Brion from
+deepset sockets. The heavy kilt around his loins was the only
+garment he wore. Once more the vaede rested over his shoulder, still
+stirring unhappily. Around his waist was the same collection of
+leather, stone and brass objects that had been in the solido. Two of
+them now had meaning to Brion: the tube-and-mouthpiece, a blowgun of
+some kind; and the specially shaped hook for opening the vaede. He
+wondered if the other strangely formed things had equally practical
+functions. If you accepted them as artifacts with a purpose--not
+barbaric decorations--you had to accept their owner as something
+more than the crude savage he resembled.
+
+"My name is Brion. And you--"
+
+"You may not have my name. Why are you here? To kill my people?"
+
+Brion forced away the memory of last night. Killing was just what he
+had done. Some expectancy in the man's manner, some sensed feeling
+of hope prompted Brion to speak the truth.
+
+"I'm here to stop your people from being killed. I believe in the
+end of the war."
+
+"Prove it."
+
+"Take me to the Cultural Relationships Foundations in the city and
+I'll prove it. I can do nothing here in the desert. Except die."
+
+For the first time there was emotion on the Disan's face. He frowned
+and muttered something to himself. There was a fine beading of sweat
+above his eyebrows now as he fought an internal battle. Coming to a
+decision, he rose, and Brion stood too.
+
+"Come with me. I'll take you to Hovedstad. But first you will tell
+me--are you from Nyjord?"
+
+"No."
+
+The nameless Disan merely grunted and turned away. Brion shouldered
+Lea's unconscious body and followed him. They walked for two hours,
+the Disan setting a cruel pace, before they reached a wasteland of
+jumbled rock. The native pointed to the highest tower of sand-eroded
+stone. "Wait near this," he said. "Someone will come for you." He
+watched while Brion placed the girl's still body in the shade, and
+passed over the vaede for the last time. Just before leaving he
+turned back, hesitating.
+
+"My name is ... Ulv," he said. Then he was gone.
+
+Brion did what he could to make Lea comfortable, but it was very
+little. If she didn't get medical attention soon she would be dead.
+Dehydration and shock were uniting to destroy her.
+
+Just before sunset he heard clanking, and the throbbing whine of
+a sand car's engine coming from the west.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+With each second the noise grew louder, coming their way. The tracks
+squeaked as the car turned around the rock spire, obviously seeking
+them out. A large carrier, big as a truck, it stopped before them in
+a cloud of its own dust and the driver kicked the door open.
+
+"Get in here--and fast!" the man shouted. "You're letting in all the
+heat." He gunned the engine, ready to kick in the gears, and looked
+at them irritatedly.
+
+Ignoring the driver's nervous instructions, Brion carefully placed
+Lea on the rear seat before he pulled the door shut. The car surged
+forward instantly, a blast of icy air pouring from the air-cooling
+vents. It wasn't cold in the vehicle--but the temperature was at
+least forty degrees lower than the outer air. Brion covered Lea with
+all their extra clothing to prevent any further shock to her system.
+The driver, hunched over the wheel and driving with an intense
+speed, hadn't said a word to them since they had entered.
+
+Brion looked up as another man stepped from the engine compartment
+in the rear of the car. He was thin, harried-looking. And he was
+pointing a gun.
+
+"Who are you?" he said, without a trace of warmth in his voice.
+
+It was a strange reception, but Brion was beginning to realize that
+Dis was a strange planet. The other man chewed at his lip nervously
+while Brion sat, relaxed and unmoving. He didn't want to startle him
+into pulling the trigger, and he kept his voice pitched low as he
+answered.
+
+"My name is Brandd. We landed from space two nights ago and have
+been walking in the desert ever since. Now don't get excited and
+shoot the gun when I tell you this--but both Vion and Ihjel are
+dead."
+
+The man with the gun gasped, his eyes widened. The driver threw a
+single frightened look over his shoulder, then turned quickly back
+to the wheel. Brion's probe had hit its mark. If these men weren't
+from the Cultural Relationships Foundation they at least knew a lot
+about it. It seemed safe to assume they were C.R.F. men.
+
+"When they were shot the girl and I escaped. We were trying to reach
+the city and contact you. You are from the Foundation, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes. Of course," the man said, lowering the gun. He stared
+glassy-eyed into space for a moment, nervously working his teeth
+against his lip. Startled at his own inattention, he raised the gun
+again.
+
+"If you're Brandd, there's something I want to know." Rummaging
+in his breast pocket with his free hand, he brought out a yellow
+message form. He moved his lips as he reread the message. "Now
+answer me--if you can--what are the last three events in the ..."
+He took a quick look at the paper again. "... in the Twenties?"
+
+"Chess finals, rifle prone position, and fencing playoffs. Why?"
+
+The man grunted and slid the pistol back into its holder, satisfied.
+"I'm Faussel," he said, and waved the message at Brion. "This is
+Ihjel's last will and testament, relayed to us by the Nyjord
+blockade control. He thought he was going to die and he sure was
+right. Passed on his job to you. You're in charge. I was Mervv's
+second-in-command, until he was poisoned. I was supposed to work for
+Ihjel, and now I guess I'm yours. At least until tomorrow, when
+we'll have everything packed and get off this hell planet."
+
+"What do you mean, tomorrow?" Brion asked. "It's three days to
+deadline and we still have a job to do."
+
+Faussel had dropped heavily into one of the seats and he sprang to
+his feet again, clutching the seat back to keep his balance in the
+swaying car.
+
+"Three days, three weeks, three minutes--what difference does it
+make?" His voice rose shrilly with each word, and he had to make a
+definite effort to master himself before he could go on. "Look. You
+don't know anything about this. You just arrived and that's your bad
+luck. My bad luck is being assigned to this death trap and watching
+the depraved and filthy things the natives do. And trying to be
+polite to them even when they are killing my friends, and those
+Nyjord bombers up there with their hands on the triggers. One of
+those bombardiers is going to start thinking about home and about
+the cobalt bombs down here and he's going to press that button,
+deadline or no deadline."
+
+"Sit down, Faussel. Sit down and take a rest." There was sympathy in
+Brion's voice--but also the firmness of an order. Faussel swayed for
+a second longer, then collapsed. He sat with his cheek against the
+window, eyes closed. A pulse throbbed visibly in his temple and his
+lips worked. He had been under too much tension for too long a time.
+
+This was the atmosphere that hung heavily in the air at the C.R.F.
+building when they arrived. Despair and defeat. The doctor was the
+only one who didn't share this mood as he bustled Lea off to the
+clinic with prompt efficiency. He obviously had enough patients to
+keep his mind occupied. With the others the feeling of depression
+was unmistakable. From the instant they had driven through the
+automatic garage door, Brion had swum in this miasma of defeat.
+It was omnipresent and hard to ignore.
+
+As soon as he had eaten he went with Faussel into what was to have
+been Ihjel's office. Through the transparent walls he could see the
+staff packing the records, crating them for shipment. Faussel seemed
+less nervous now that he was no longer in command. Brion rejected
+any idea he had of letting the man know that he himself was only
+a novice in the foundation. He was going to need all the authority
+he could muster, since they would undoubtedly hate him for what he
+was going to do.
+
+"Better take notes of this, Faussel, and have it typed. I'll sign
+it." The printed word always carried more weight. "All preparations
+for leaving are to be stopped at once. Records are to be returned
+to the files. We are going to stay here just as long as we have
+clearance from the Nyjorders. If this operation is unsuccessful we
+will all leave together when the time expires. We will take whatever
+personal baggage we can carry by hand; everything else stays here.
+Perhaps you don't realize we are here to save a planet--not file
+cabinets full of papers."
+
+Out of the corner of his eye he saw Faussel flush with anger. "As
+soon as that is typed bring it back. And all the reports as to what
+has been accomplished on this project. That will be all for now."
+
+Faussel stamped out, and a minute later Brion saw the shocked, angry
+looks from the workers in the outer office. Turning his back to
+them, he opened the drawers in the desk, one after another. The top
+drawer was empty, except for a sealed envelope. It was addressed to
+Winner Ihjel.
+
+Brion looked at it thoughtfully, then ripped it open. The letter
+inside was handwritten.
+
+     _Ihjel:_
+
+     _I've had the official word that you are on the way
+     to relieve me and I am forced to admit I feel only
+     an intense satisfaction. You've had the experience on
+     these outlaw planets and can get along with the odd
+     types. I have been specializing in research for the
+     last twenty years, and the only reason I was appointed
+     planetary supervisor on Nyjord was because of the
+     observation and application facilities. I'm the
+     research type, not the office type; no one has ever
+     denied that._
+
+     _You're going to have trouble with the staff, so you
+     had better realize that they are all compulsory
+     volunteers. Half are clerical people from my staff.
+     The others a mixed bag of whoever was close enough to
+     be pulled in on this crash assignment. It developed so
+     fast we never saw it coming. And I'm afraid we've done
+     little or nothing to stop it. We can't get access to
+     the natives here, not in the slightest. It's
+     frightening! They don't fit! I've done Poisson
+     Distributions on a dozen different factors and none of
+     them can be equated. The Pareto Extrapolations don't
+     work. Our field men can't even talk to the natives and
+     two have been killed trying. The ruling class is
+     unapproachable and the rest just keep their mouths shut
+     and walk away._
+
+     _I'm going to take a chance and try to talk to
+     Lig-magte, perhaps I can make him see sense. I doubt
+     if it will work and there is a chance he will try
+     violence with me. The nobility here are very prone to
+     violence. If I get back all right you won't see this
+     note. Otherwise--good-by, Ihjel. Try to do a better job
+     than I did._
+                                          _Aston Mervv_
+
+     _P.S. There is a problem with the staff. They are
+     supposed to be saviors, but without exception they all
+     loathe the Disans. I'm afraid I do too._
+
+Brion ticked off the relevant points in the letter. He had to find
+some way of discovering what Pareto Extrapolations were--without
+uncovering his own lack of knowledge. The staff would vanish in five
+minutes if they knew how new he was at the job. Poisson Distribution
+made more sense. It was used in physics as the unchanging
+probability of an event that would be true at all times. Such as
+the numbers of particles that would be given off by a lump of
+radioactive matter during a short period. From the way Mervv used
+it in his letter it looked as if the societics people had found
+measurable applications in societies and groups. At least on other
+planets. None of the rules seemed to be working on Dis. Ihjel had
+admitted that, and Mervv's death had proven it. Brion wondered who
+this Lig-magte was who appeared to have killed Mervv.
+
+A forged cough broke through Brion's concentration, and he realized
+that Faussel had been standing in front of his desk for some
+minutes. Brion looked up and mopped perspiration from his face.
+
+"Your air conditioner seems to be out of order," Faussel said.
+"Should I have the mechanic look at it?"
+
+"There's nothing wrong with the machine; I'm just adapting to Dis's
+climate. What else do you want, Faussel?"
+
+The assistant had a doubting look that he didn't succeed in hiding.
+He also had trouble believing the literal truth. He placed the small
+stack of file folders on the desk.
+
+"These are the reports to date, everything we have uncovered about
+the Disans. It's not very much; but considering the anti-social
+attitudes on this lousy world it is the best we could do." A sudden
+thought hit him, and his eyes narrowed slyly. "It can't be helped,
+but some of the staff have been wondering out loud about that native
+that contacted us. How did you get him to help you? We've never
+gotten to first base with these people, and as soon as you land you
+have one working for you. You can't stop people from thinking about
+it, you being a newcomer and a stranger. After all, it looks a
+little odd--" He broke off in midsentence as Brion looked at him
+in cold fury.
+
+"I can't stop people from thinking about it--but I can stop them
+from talking. Our job is to contact the Disans and stop this
+suicidal war. I have done more in one day than you all have done
+since you arrived. I have accomplished this because I am better at
+my work than the rest of you. That is all the information any of you
+are going to receive. You are dismissed."
+
+White with anger, Faussel turned on his heel and stamped out--to
+spread the word about what a slave-driver the new director was. They
+would then all hate him passionately, which was just the way he
+wanted it. He couldn't risk exposure as the tyro he was. And perhaps
+a new emotion, other than disgust and defeat, might jar them into a
+little action. They certainly couldn't do any worse than they had
+been doing.
+
+It was a tremendous amount of responsibility. For the first time
+since setting foot on this barbaric planet Brion had time to stop
+and think. He was taking an awful lot upon himself. He knew nothing
+about this world, nor about the powers involved in the conflict.
+Here he sat pretending to be in charge of an organization he had
+first heard about only a few weeks earlier. It was a frightening
+situation. Should he slide out from under?
+
+There was just one possible answer, and that was _no_. Until he
+found someone else who could do better, he seemed to be the one best
+suited for the job. And Ihjel's opinion had to count for something.
+Brion had felt the surety of the man's conviction that Brion was
+the only one who might possibly succeed in this difficult spot.
+
+Let it go at that. If he had any qualms it would be best to put them
+behind him. Aside from everything else, there was a primary bit of
+loyalty involved. Ihjel had been an Anvharian and a Winner. Maybe it
+was a provincial attitude to hold in this big universe--Anvhar was
+certainly far enough away from here--but honor is very important to
+a man who must stand alone. He had a debt to Ihjel, and he was going
+to pay it off.
+
+Once the decision had been made, he felt easier. There was an
+intercom on the desk in front of him and he leaned with a heavy
+thumb on the button labeled _Faussel_.
+
+"Yes?" Even through the speaker the man's voice was cold with
+ill-concealed hatred.
+
+"Who is Lig-magte? And did the former director ever return from
+seeing him?"
+
+"Magte is a title that means roughly noble or lord. Lig-magte is the
+local overlord. He has an ugly stoneheap of a building just outside
+the city. He seems to be the mouthpiece for the group of magter that
+are pushing this idiotic war. As to your second question, I have to
+answer yes and no. We found Director Mervv's head outside the door
+next morning with all the skin gone. We knew who it was because the
+doctor identified the bridgework in his mouth. _Do you understand?_"
+
+All pretense of control had vanished, and Faussel almost shrieked
+the last words. They were all close to cracking up, if he was any
+example. Brion broke in quickly.
+
+"That will be all, Faussel. Just get word to the doctor that I would
+like to see him as soon as I can." He broke the connection and
+opened the first of the folders. By the time the doctor called he
+had skimmed the reports and was reading the relevant ones in greater
+detail. Putting on his warm coat, he went through the outer office.
+The few workers still on duty turned their backs in frigid silence.
+
+Doctor Stine had a pink and shiny bald head that rose above a thick
+black beard. Brion had liked him at once. Anyone with enough
+firmness of mind to keep a beard in this climate was a pleasant
+exception after what he had met so far.
+
+"How's the new patient, Doctor?"
+
+Stine combed his beard with stubby fingers before answering.
+"Diagnosis: heat-syncope. Prognosis: complete recovery. Condition
+fair, considering the dehydration and extensive sunburn. I've
+treated the burns, and a saline drip is taking care of the other.
+She just missed going into heat-shock. I have her under sedation
+now."
+
+"I'd like to have her up and helping me tomorrow morning. Could she
+do this--with stimulants or drugs?"
+
+"She could--but I don't like it. There might be side factors,
+perhaps long-standing debilitation. It's a chance."
+
+"A chance we will have to take. In less than seventy hours this
+planet is due for destruction. In attempting to avert that tragedy
+I'm expendable, as is everyone else here. Agreed?"
+
+The doctor grunted deep in his beard and looked Brion's immense
+frame up and down. "Agreed," he said, almost happily. "It is a
+distinct pleasure to see something beside black defeat around here.
+I'll go along with you."
+
+"Well, you can help me right now. I checked the personnel roster and
+discovered that out of the twenty-eight people working here there
+isn't a physical scientist of any kind--other than yourself."
+
+"A scruffy bunch of button-pushers and theoreticians. Not worth a
+damn for field work, the whole bunch of them!" The doctor toed the
+floor switch on a waste receptacle and spat into it with feeling.
+
+"Then I'm going to depend on you for some straight answers," Brion
+said. "This is an un-standard operation, and the standard techniques
+just don't begin to make sense. Even Poisson Distributions and
+Pareto Extrapolations don't apply here." Stine nodded agreement and
+Brion relaxed a bit. He had just relieved himself of his entire
+knowledge of societics, and it had sounded authentic. "The more I
+look at it the more I believe that this is a physical problem,
+something to do with the exotic and massive adjustments the Disans
+have made to this hellish environment. Could this tie up in any way
+with their absolutely suicidal attitude towards the cobalt bombs?"
+
+"Could it? Could it?" Dr. Stine paced the floor rapidly on his
+stocky legs, twining his fingers behind his back. "You are bloody
+well right it could. Someone is thinking at last and not just
+punching bloody numbers into a machine and sitting and scratching
+his behind while waiting for the screen to light up with the
+answers. Do you know how Disans exist?" Brion shook his head. "The
+fools here think it disgusting but I call it fascinating. They have
+found ways to join a symbiotic relationship with the life forms on
+this planet. Even a parasitic relationship. You must realize that
+living organisms will do anything to survive. Castaways at sea will
+drink their own urine in their need for water. Disgust at this is
+only the attitude of the overprotected who have never experienced
+extreme thirst or hunger. Well, here on Dis you have a planet of
+castaways."
+
+Stine opened the door of the pharmacy. "This talk of thirst makes me
+dry." With economically efficient motions he poured grain alcohol
+into a beaker, thinned it with distilled water and flavored it with
+some crystals from a bottle. He filled two glasses and handed Brion
+one. It didn't taste bad at all.
+
+"What do you mean by parasitic, Doctor? Aren't we all parasites of
+the lower life forms? Meat animals, vegetables and such?"
+
+"No, no--you miss the point! I speak of parasitic in the exact
+meaning of the word. You must realize that to a biologist there is
+no real difference between parasitism, symbiosis, mutualism,
+biontergasy, commensalism--"
+
+"Stop, stop!" Brion said. "Those are just meaningless sounds to me.
+If that is what makes this planet tick I'm beginning to see why the
+rest of the staff has that lost feeling."
+
+"It is just a matter of degree of the same thing. Look. You have
+a kind of crustacean living in the lakes here, very much like an
+ordinary crab. It has large claws in which it holds anemones,
+tentacled sea animals with no power of motion. The crustacean waves
+these around to gather food, and eats the pieces they capture that
+are too big for them. This is biontergasy, two creatures living and
+working together, yet each capable of existing alone.
+
+"Now, this same crustacean has a parasite living under its shell, a
+degenerated form of a snail that has lost all powers of movement. A
+true parasite that takes food from its host's body and gives nothing
+in return. Inside this snail's gut there is a protozoan that lives
+off the snail's ingested food. Yet this little organism is not a
+parasite, as you might think at first, but a symbiote. It takes food
+from the snail, but at the same time it secretes a chemical that
+aids the snail's digestion of the food. Do you get the picture?
+All these life forms exist in a complicated interdependence."
+
+Brion frowned in concentration, sipping at the drink. "It's making
+some kind of sense now. Symbiosis, parasitism and all the rest are
+just ways of describing variations of the same basic process of
+living together. And there is probably a grading and shading between
+some of these that make the exact relationship hard to define."
+
+"Precisely. Existence is so difficult on this world that the
+competing forms have almost died out. There are still a few left,
+preying off the others. It was the cooperating and interdependent
+life forms that really won out in the race for survival. I say life
+forms with intent. The creatures here are mostly a mixture of plant
+and animal, like the lichens you have elsewhere. The Disans have a
+creature they call a "vaede" that they use for water when traveling.
+It has rudimentary powers of motion from its animal part, yet uses
+photosynthesis and stores water like a plant. When the Disans drink
+from it the thing taps their blood streams for food elements."
+
+"I know," Brion said wryly. "I drank from one. You can see my scars.
+I'm beginning to comprehend how the Disans fit into the physical
+pattern of their world, and I realize it must have all kinds of
+psychological effects on them. Do you think this has any effect on
+their social organization?"
+
+"An important one. But maybe I'm making too many suppositions now.
+Perhaps your researchers upstairs can tell you better; after all,
+this is their field."
+
+Brion had studied the reports on the social setup and not one word
+of them made sense. They were a solid maze of unknown symbols and
+cryptic charts. "Please continue, Doctor," he insisted. "The
+societics reports are valueless so far. There are factors missing.
+You are the only one I have talked to so far who can give me any
+intelligent reports or answers."
+
+"All right then--be it on your own head. The way I see it, you've
+got no society here at all, just a bunch of rugged individualists.
+Each one for himself, getting nourishment from the other life forms
+of the planet. If they have a society, it is orientated towards the
+rest of the planetary life--instead of towards other human beings.
+Perhaps that's why your figures don't make sense. They are set up
+for the human societies. In their relations with each other, these
+people are completely different."
+
+"What about the magter, the upper-class types who build castles and
+are causing all this trouble?"
+
+"I have no explanation," Dr. Stine admitted. "My theories hold water
+and seem logical enough up to this point. But the magter are the
+exception, and I have no idea why. They are completely different
+from the rest of the Disans. Argumentative, blood-thirsty, looking
+for planetary conquest instead of peace. They aren't rulers, not in
+the real sense. They hold power because nobody else wants it. They
+grant mining concessions to offworlders because they are the only
+ones with a sense of property. Maybe I'm going out on a limb. But
+if you can find out _why_ they are so different you may be onto
+the clue to our difficulties."
+
+For the first time since his arrival Brion began to feel a touch of
+enthusiasm. Plus a sense of the remote possibility that there might
+even be a solution to the deadly problem. He drained his glass and
+stood up.
+
+"I hope you'll wake your patient early, Doctor. You might be as
+interested in talking to her as I am. If what you told me is true,
+she could well be our key to the answer. She is Professor Lea
+Morees, and she is just out from Earth with degrees in exobiology
+and anthropology, and has a head stuffed with vital facts."
+
+"Wonderful!" Stine said. "I shall take care of the head, not only
+because it is so pretty but because of its knowledge. Though we
+totter on the edge of atomic destruction I have a strange feeling
+of optimism--for the first time since I landed on this planet."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+The guard inside the front entrance of the Foundation building
+jumped at the thunderous noise and reached for his gun. He dropped
+his hand sheepishly when he realized it was only a sneeze--though a
+gargantuan one. Brion came up, sniffling, huddling down into his
+coat. "I'm going out before I catch pneumonia," he said. The guard
+saluted dumbly, and after checking his proximity detector screens he
+slipped out and the heavy portal thudded shut behind him. The street
+was still warm from the heat of the day and he sighed happily and
+opened his coat.
+
+This was partly a reconnaissance trip--and partly a way of getting
+warmed up. There was little else he could do in the building; the
+staff had long since retired. He had slept for a half an hour, and
+had waked refreshed and ready to work. All of the reports he could
+understand had been read and reread until they were memorized. He
+could use the time now, while the rest of them were asleep, to get
+better acquainted with the main city of Dis.
+
+As he walked the dark streets he realized how alien the Disan way of
+life was to everything he knew. This city--Hovedstad--literally
+meant "main place" in the native language. And that's all it was. It
+was only the presence of the offworlders that made it into a city.
+Building after building, standing deserted, bore the names of mining
+companies, traders, space transporters. None of them was occupied
+now. Some still had lights burning, switched on by automatic
+apparatus, others were as dark as the Disan structures. There
+weren't many of these native constructions and they seemed out of
+place among the rammed earth and prefab offworld buildings. Brion
+examined one that was dimly illuminated by the light on the corner
+of VEGAN SMELTERS, LTD.
+
+It consisted of a single large room, resting right on the ground.
+There were no windows, and the whole thing appeared to have been
+constructed of some sort of woven material plastered with stone-hard
+mud. Nothing was blocking the door and he was thinking seriously of
+going in when he became aware that he was being followed.
+
+It was only a slight noise, almost lost in the night. Normally it
+would never have been noticed, but tonight Brion was listening with
+his entire body. Someone was behind him, swallowed up in the pools
+of darkness. Brion shrank back against the wall. There was very
+little chance this could be anyone but a Disan. He had a sudden
+memory of Mervv's severed head as it had been discovered outside the
+door.
+
+Ihjel had helped him train his empathetic sense and he reached out
+with it. It was difficult working in the dark; he could be sure of
+nothing. Was he getting a reaction--or just wishing for one? Why did
+it have a ring of familiarity to it? A sudden idea struck him.
+
+"Ulv," he said, very softly. "This is Brion." He crouched, ready
+for any attack.
+
+"I know," a voice said softly in the night. "Do not talk. Walk
+in the direction you were going before."
+
+Asking questions now would accomplish nothing. Brion turned
+instantly and did as he was bidden. The buildings grew further apart
+until he realized from the sand underfoot that he was back in the
+planet-wide desert. It could be a trap--he hadn't recognized the
+voice behind the whisper--yet he had to take this chance. A darker
+shape appeared in the dark night near him, and a burning hot hand
+touched his arm lightly.
+
+"I will walk ahead. Follow close behind me." The words were louder
+and this time Brion recognized the voice.
+
+Without waiting for an answer, Ulv turned and his dimly seen shape
+vanished into the darkness. Brion moved swiftly after him, until
+they walked side by side over the rolling hills of sand. The sand
+merged into hard-baked ground, became cracked and scarred with
+rock-filled gulleys. They followed a deepening gulley that grew into
+a good-sized ravine. When they turned an angle of the ravine Brion
+saw a weak yellow light coming from an opening in the hard dirt
+wall.
+
+Ulv dropped on all fours and vanished through the shoulder-wide
+hole. Brion followed him, trying to ignore the growing tension and
+unease he felt. Crawling like this, head down, he was terribly
+vulnerable. He tried to shrug off the feeling, mentally blaming it
+on tense nerves.
+
+The tunnel was short and opened into a larger chamber. A sudden
+scuffle of feet sounded at the same instant that a wave of
+empathetic hatred struck him. It took vital seconds to fight his way
+out of the trapping tunnel, to roll clear and bring his gun up.
+During those seconds he should have died. The Disan poised above him
+had the short-handled stone hammer raised to strike a skull-crushing
+blow.
+
+Ulv was clutching the man's wrist, fighting silently to keep the
+hammer from falling. Neither combatant said a word, the rasp of
+their calloused feet on the sand the only sound. Brion backed away
+from the struggling men, his gun centered on the stranger. The Disan
+followed him with burning eyes, and dropped the hammer as soon as it
+was obvious the attack had failed.
+
+"Why did you bring him here?" he growled at Ulv. "Why didn't you
+kill him?"
+
+"He is here so we can listen to what he says, Gebk. He is the one
+I told you of, that I found in the desert."
+
+"We listen to what he says and then we kill him," Gebk said with a
+mirthless grin. The remark wasn't meant to be humorous, but was made
+in all seriousness. Brion recognized this and knew that there was no
+danger for the present moment. He slid the gun away, and for the
+first time looked around the chamber.
+
+It was domed in shape and was still hot from the heat of the day.
+Ulv took off the length of cloth he had wrapped around his body
+against the chill, and refolded it as a kilt, strapping it on under
+his belt artifacts. He grunted something unintelligible and when
+a muttered answer came, Brion for the first time became aware of
+the woman and the child.
+
+The two sat against the far wall, squatting on either side of a heap
+of fibrous plants. Both were nude, clothed only in the matted hair
+that fell below their shoulders. The belt of strange tools could not
+be classified as clothing. Even the child wore a tiny replica of her
+mother's. Putting down a length of plant she had been chewing, the
+woman shuffled over to the tiny fire that illuminated the room. A
+clay pot stood over it, and from this she ladled three bowls of food
+for the men. It smelled atrocious, and Brion tried not to taste or
+smell the sickening mixture while he ate it. He used his fingers, as
+did the other men, and did not talk while he ate. There was no way
+to tell if the silence was ritual or habit. It gave him a chance for
+a closer look at the Disan way of living.
+
+The cave was obviously hand-made; tool marks could be clearly seen
+in the hard clay of the walls, except in the portion opposite the
+entrance. This was covered with a network of roots, rising out of
+the floor and vanishing into the roof of earth above. Perhaps this
+was the reason for the cave's existence. The thin roots had been
+carefully twisted and plaited together until they formed a single
+swollen root in the center, as thick as a man's arm. From this hung
+four of the vaedes: Ulv had placed his there before he sat down. The
+teeth must have instantly sunk in, for it hung unsupported--another
+link in the Disan life cycle. This appeared to be the source of the
+vaede's water that nourished the people.
+
+Brion was aware of eyes upon him and turned and smiled at the little
+girl. She couldn't have been over six years old, but she was already
+a Disan in every way. She neither returned his smile nor changed her
+expression, unchildlike in its stolidity. Her hands and jaw never
+stopped as she worked on the lengths of fibrous plant her mother had
+placed before her. The child split them with a small tool and
+removed a pod of some kind. This was peeled--partially by scraping
+with a different tool, and partially by working between her teeth.
+It took long minutes to remove the tough rind; the results seemed
+scarcely worth it. A tiny wriggling object was finally disclosed
+which the girl instantly swallowed. She then began working on the
+next pod.
+
+Ulv put down his clay bowl and belched. "I brought you to the city
+as I told you I would," he said. "Have you done as you said you
+would?"
+
+"What did he promise?" Gebk asked.
+
+"That he would stop the war. Have you stopped it?"
+
+"I am trying to stop it," Brion said. "But it is not that easy.
+I'll need some help. It is your life that needs saving--yours and
+your families'. If you would help me--"
+
+"What is the truth?" Ulv broke in savagely. "All I hear is
+difference, and there is no longer any way to tell truth. For as
+long as always we have done as the magter say. We bring them food
+and they give us the metal and sometimes water when we need it. As
+long as we do as they ask they do not kill us. They live the wrong
+way, but I have had bronze from them for my tools. They have told us
+that they are getting a world for us from the sky people, and that
+is good."
+
+"It has always been known that the sky people are evil in every way,
+and only good can come from killing them," Gebk said.
+
+Brion stared back at the two Disans and their obvious hatred. "Then
+why didn't you kill me, Ulv?" he asked. "That first time in the
+desert, or tonight when you stopped Gebk?"
+
+"I could have. But there was something more important. What is the truth?
+Can we believe as we have always done? Or should we listen to this?"
+
+He threw a small sheet of plastic to Brion, no bigger than the palm
+of his hand. A metal button was fastened to one corner of the wafer,
+and a simple drawing was imbedded in the wafer. Brion held it to the
+light and saw a picture of a man's hand squeezing the button between
+thumb and forefinger. It was a subminiaturized playback; mechanical
+pressure on the case provided enough current to play the recorded
+message. The plastic sheet vibrated, acting as a loudspeaker.
+
+Though the voice was thin and scratchy, the words were clearly
+audible. It was an appeal for the Disan people not to listen to the
+magter. It explained that the magter had started a war that could
+have only one ending--the destruction of Dis. Only if the magter
+were thrown down and their weapons discovered could there be any
+hope.
+
+"Are these words true?" Ulv asked.
+
+"Yes," Brion said.
+
+"They are perhaps true," Gebk said, "but there is nothing that we
+can do. I was with my brother when these word-things fell out of the
+sky and he listened to one and took it to the magter to ask them.
+They killed him, as he should have known they would do. The magter
+kill us if they know we listen to the words."
+
+"And the words tell us we will die if we listen to the magter!" Ulv
+shouted, his voice cracking. Not with fear, but with frustration at
+the attempt to reconcile two opposite points of view. Up until this
+time his world had consisted of black and white values, with very
+few shadings of difference in between.
+
+"There are things you can do that will stop the war without hurting
+yourself or the magter," Brion said, searching for a way to enlist
+their aid.
+
+"Tell us," Ulv grunted.
+
+"There would be no war if the magter could be contacted, made to
+listen to reason. They are killing you all. You could tell me how
+to talk to the magter, how I could understand them--"
+
+"No one can talk to the magter," the woman broke in. "If you say
+something different they will kill you as they killed Gebk's
+brother. So they are easy to understand. That is the way they are.
+They do not change." She put the length of plant she had been
+softening for the child back into her mouth. Her lips were deeply
+grooved and scarred from a lifetime of this work, her teeth at the
+sides worn almost to the bone.
+
+"Mor is right," Ulv said. "You do not talk to magter. What else is
+there to do?"
+
+Brion looked at the two men before he spoke, and shifted his weight.
+The motion brought his fingertips just a few inches from his gun.
+"The magter have bombs that will destroy Nyjord--this is the next
+planet, a star in your sky. If I can find where the bombs are, I
+will have them taken away and there will be no war."
+
+"You want to aid the devils in the sky against our own people!"
+Gebk shouted, half rising. Ulv pulled him back to the ground,
+but there was no more warmth in his voice as he spoke.
+
+"You are asking too much. You will leave now."
+
+"Will you help me, though? Will you help stop the war?" Brion asked,
+aware he had gone too far, but unable to stop. Their anger was
+making them forget the reasons for his being there.
+
+"You ask too much," Ulv said again. "Go back now. We will talk about it."
+
+"Will I see you again? How can I reach you?"
+
+"We will find you if we wish to talk to you," was all Ulv said. If
+they decided he was lying he would never see them again. There was
+nothing he could do about it.
+
+"I have made up my mind," Gebk said, rising to his feet and drawing
+his cloth up until it covered his shoulders. "You are lying and this
+is all a lie of the sky people. If I see you again I will kill you."
+He stepped to the tunnel and was gone.
+
+There was nothing more to be said. Brion went out next--checking
+carefully to be sure that Gebk really had left--and Ulv guided him
+to the spot where the lights of Hovedstad were visible. He did not
+speak during their return journey and vanished without a word. Brion
+shivered in the night chill of the air and wrapped his coat more
+tightly around himself. Depressed, he walked back towards the warmer
+streets of the city.
+
+It was dawn when he reached the Foundation building; a new guard
+was at the front entrance. No amount of hammering or threats could
+convince the man to open until Faussel came down, yawning and
+blinking with sleep. He was starting some complaint when Brion cut
+him off curtly and ordered him to finish dressing and report for
+work at once. Still feeling elated, Brion hurried into his office
+and cursed the overly efficient character who had turned on his air
+conditioner to chill the room again. When he turned it off this time
+he removed enough vital parts to keep it out of order for the
+duration.
+
+When Faussel came in he was still yawning behind his fist--obviously
+a low morning-sugar type. "Before you fall on your face, go out and
+get some coffee," Brion said. "Two cups. I'll have a cup too."
+
+"That won't be necessary," Faussel said, drawing himself up stiffly.
+"I'll call the canteen if you wish some." He said it in the iciest
+tone he could manage this early in the morning.
+
+In his enthusiasm Brion had forgotten the hate campaign he had
+directed against himself. "Suit yourself," he said shortly, getting
+back into the role. "But the next time you yawn there'll be a
+negative entry in your service record. If that's clear--you can
+brief me on this organization's visible relations with the Disans.
+How do they take us?"
+
+Faussel choked and swallowed a yawn. "I believe they look on the
+C.R.F. people as some species of simpleton, sir. They hate all
+offworlders; memory of their desertion has been passed on verbally
+for generations. So by their one-to-one logic we should either hate
+back or go away. We stay instead. And give them food, water,
+medicine and artifacts. Because of this they let us remain on
+sufferance. I imagine they consider us do-gooder idiots, and as long
+as we cause no trouble they'll let us stay." He was struggling
+miserably to suppress a yawn, so Brion turned his back and gave him
+a chance to get it out.
+
+"What about the Nyjorders? How much do they know of our work?" Brion
+looked out the window at dusty buildings, outlined in purple against
+the violent colors of the desert sunrise.
+
+"Nyjord is a cooperating planet, and has full knowledge at all
+executive levels. They are giving us all the aid they can."
+
+"Well, now is the time to ask for more. Can I contact the commander
+of the blockading fleet?"
+
+"There is a scrambler connection right through to him. I'll set it
+up." Faussel bent over the desk and punched a number into the phone
+controls. The screen flowed with the black and white patterns of the
+scrambler.
+
+"That's all, Faussel," Brion said. "I want privacy for this talk.
+What's the commander's name?"
+
+"Professor Krafft--he's a physicist. They have no military men at
+all, so they called him in for the construction of the bombs and
+energy weapons. He's still in charge." Faussel yawned extravagantly
+as he went out the door.
+
+The Professor-Commander was very old, with wispy grey hair and
+a network of wrinkles surrounding his eyes. His image shimmered,
+then cleared as the scrambler units aligned.
+
+"You must be Brion Brandd," he said. "I have to tell you how sorry
+we all are that your friend Ihjel and the two others--had to die,
+after coming so far to help us. I'm sure you are very happy to have
+had a friend like that."
+
+"Why ... yes, of course," Brion said, reaching for the scattered
+fragments of his thought processes. It took an effort to remember
+the first conflict, now that he was worrying about the death of a
+planet. "It's very kind of you to mention it. But I would like to
+find out a few things from you, if I could."
+
+"Anything at all; we are at your disposal. Before we begin, though,
+I shall pass on the thanks of our council for your aid in joining
+us. Even if we are eventually forced to drop the bombs, we shall
+never forget that your organization did everything possible to
+avert the disaster."
+
+Once again Brion was caught off balance. For an instant he wondered
+if Krafft was being insincere, then recognized the baseness of this
+thought. The completeness of the man's humanity was obvious and
+compelling. The thought passed through Brion's mind that now he had
+an additional reason for wanting the war ended without destruction
+on either side. He very much wanted to visit Nyjord and see these
+people on their home grounds.
+
+Professor Krafft waited, patiently and silently, while Brion pulled
+his thoughts together and answered. "I still hope that this thing
+can be stopped in time. That's what I wanted to talk to you about.
+I want to see Lig-magte and I thought it would be better if I had
+a legitimate reason. Are you in contact with him?"
+
+Krafft shook his head. "No, not really in contact. When this trouble
+started I sent him a transceiver so we could talk directly. But he
+has delivered his ultimatum, speaking for the magter. The only terms
+he will hear are unconditional surrender. His receiver is on, but
+he has said that is the only message he will answer."
+
+"Not much chance of him ever being told that," Brion said.
+
+"There was--at one time. I hope you realize, Brion, that the
+decision to bomb Dis was not easily arrived at. A great many
+people--myself included--voted for unconditional surrender.
+We lost the vote by a very small margin."
+
+Brion was getting used to these philosophical body blows and he
+rolled with the punches now. "Are there any of your people left on
+this planet? Or do you have any troops I can call on for help? This
+is still a remote possibility, but if I do find out where the bombs
+or the launchers are, a surprise raid would knock them out."
+
+"We have no people left in Hovedstad now--all the ones who weren't
+evacuated were killed. But there are commando teams standing by here
+to make a landing if the weapons are detected. The Disans must
+depend on secrecy to protect their armament, since we have both
+the manpower and the technology to reach any objective. We also
+have technicians and other volunteers looking for the weapon sites.
+They have not been successful as yet, and most of them were killed
+soon after landing."
+
+Krafft hesitated for a moment. "There is another group you should
+know about; you will need all the factors. Some of our people are in
+the desert outside of Hovedstad. We do not officially approve of
+them, though they have a good deal of popular support. They are
+mostly young men, operating as raiders, killing and destroying with
+very little compunction. They are attempting to uncover the weapons
+by sheer strength of arms."
+
+This was the best news yet. Brion controlled his voice and kept his
+expression calm when he spoke. "I don't know how far I can stretch
+your cooperation--but could you possibly tell me how to get in touch
+with them?"
+
+Kraft allowed himself a small smile. "I'll give you the wave length
+on which you can reach their radio. They call themselves the 'Nyjord
+army.' When you talk to them you can do me a favor. Pass on a
+message. Just to prove things aren't bad enough, they've become
+a little worse. One of our technical crews has detected jump-space
+energy transmissions in the planetary crust. The Disans are
+apparently testing their projector, sooner than we had estimated.
+Our deadline has been revised by one day. I'm afraid there are only
+two days left before you must evacuate." His eyes were large with
+compassion. "I'm sorry. I know this will make your job that much
+harder."
+
+Brion didn't want to think about the loss of a full day from his
+already close deadline. "Have you told the Disans this yet?"
+
+"No," Krafft told him. "The decision was reached a few minutes
+before your call. It is going on the radio to Lig-magte now."
+
+"Can you cancel the transmission and let me take the message in
+person?"
+
+"I can do that." Krafft thought for a moment. "But it would surely
+mean your death at their hands. They have no hesitation in killing
+any of our people. I would prefer to send it by radio."
+
+"If you do that you will be interfering with my plans, and perhaps
+destroying them under the guise of saving my life. Isn't my life
+my own--to dispose of as I will?"
+
+For the first time Professor Krafft was upset. "I'm sorry, terribly
+sorry. I'm letting my concern and worry wash over into my public
+affairs. Of course you may do as you please; I could never think of
+stopping you." He turned and said something inaudible offscreen.
+"The call is cancelled. The responsibility is yours. All our wishes
+for success go with you. End of transmission."
+
+"End of transmission," Brion said, and the screen went dark.
+
+"Faussel!" he shouted into the intercom. "Get me the best and
+fastest sand car we have, a driver who knows his way around, and two
+men who can handle a gun and know how to take orders. We're going to
+get some positive action at last."
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+"It's suicide," the taller guard grumbled.
+
+"Mine, not yours, so don't worry about it," Brion barked at him.
+"Your job is to remember your orders and keep them straight.
+Now--let's hear them again."
+
+The guard rolled his eyes up in silent rebellion and repeated in a
+toneless voice: "We stay here in the car and keep the motor running
+while you go inside the stone pile there. We don't let anybody in
+the car and we try and keep them clear of the car--short of shooting
+them, that is. We don't come in, no matter what happens or what it
+looks like, but wait for you here. Unless you call on the radio, in
+which case we come in with the automatics going and shoot the place
+up, and it doesn't matter who we hit. This will be done only as
+a last resort."
+
+"See if you can't arrange that last resort thing," the other guard
+said, patting the heavy blue barrel of his weapon.
+
+"I meant that _last_ resort," Brion said angrily. "If any guns go
+off without my permission you will pay for it, and pay with your
+necks. I want that clearly understood. You are here as a rear guard
+and a base for me to get back to. This is my operation and mine
+alone--unless I call you in. Understood?"
+
+He waited until all three men had nodded in agreement, then checked
+the charge on his gun--it was fully loaded. It would be foolish to
+go in unarmed, but he had to. One gun wouldn't save him. He put it
+aside. The button radio on his collar was working and had a strong
+enough signal to get through any number of walls. He took off his
+coat, threw open the door and stepped out into the searing
+brilliance of the Disan noon.
+
+There was only the desert silence, broken by the steady throb of
+the car's motor behind him. Stretching away to the horizon in every
+direction was the eternal desert of sand. The keep stood nearby,
+solitary, a massive pile of black rock. Brion plodded closer,
+watching for any motion from the walls. Nothing stirred. The
+high-walled, irregularly shaped construction sat in a ponderous
+silence. Brion was sweating now, only partially from the heat.
+
+He circled the thing, looking for a gate. There wasn't one at ground
+level. A slanting cleft in the stone could be climbed easily, but it
+seemed incredible that this might be the only entrance. A complete
+circuit proved that it was. Brion looked unhappily at the slanting
+and broken ramp, then cupped his hands and shouted loudly.
+
+"I'm coming up. Your radio doesn't work any more. I'm bringing the
+message from Nyjord that you have been waiting to hear." This was
+a slight bending of the truth without fracturing it. There was no
+answer--just the hiss of wind-blown sand against the rock and the
+mutter of the car in the background. He started to climb.
+
+The rock underfoot was crumbling and he had to watch where he put
+his feet. At the same time he fought a constant impulse to look up,
+watching for anything falling from above. Nothing happened. When he
+reached the top of the wall he was breathing hard; sweat moistened
+his body. There was still no one in sight. He stood on an unevenly
+shaped wall that appeared to circle the building. Instead of having
+a courtyard inside it, the wall was the outer face of the structure,
+the domed roof rising from it. At varying intervals dark openings
+gave access to the interior. When Brion looked down, the sand car
+was just a dun-colored bump in the desert, already far behind him.
+
+Stooping, he went through the nearest door. There was still no one
+in sight. The room inside was something out of a madman's funhouse.
+It was higher than it was wide, irregular in shape, and more like a
+hallway than a room. At one end it merged into an incline that
+became a stairwell. At the other it ended in a hole that vanished
+in darkness below. Light of sorts filtered in through slots and
+holes drilled into the thick stone wall. Everything was built of the
+same crumble-textured but strong rock. Brion took the stairs. After
+a number of blind passages and wrong turns he saw a stronger light
+ahead, and went on. There was food, metal, even artifacts of the
+unusual Disan design in the different rooms he passed through. Yet
+no people. The light ahead grew stronger, and the last passageway
+opened and swelled out until it led into the large central chamber.
+
+This was the heart of the strange structure. All the rooms,
+passageways and halls existed just to give form to this gigantic
+chamber. The walls rose sharply, the room being circular in cross
+section and growing narrower towards the top. It was a truncated
+cone, since there was no ceiling; a hot blue disk of sky cast light
+on the floor below.
+
+On the floor stood a knot of men who stared at Brion.
+
+Out of the corner of his eyes, and with the very periphery of his
+consciousness, he was aware of the rest of the room--barrels,
+stores, machinery, a radio transceiver, various bundles and heaps
+that made no sense at first glance. There was no time to look
+closer. Every fraction of his attention was focused on the muffled
+and hooded men.
+
+He had found the enemy.
+
+Everything that had happened to him so far on Dis had been
+preparation for this moment. The attack in the desert, the escape,
+the dreadful heat of sun and sand. All this had tempered and
+prepared him. It had been nothing in itself. Now the battle would
+begin in earnest.
+
+None of this was conscious in his mind. His fighter's reflexes bent
+his shoulders, curved his hands before him as he walked softly in
+balance, ready to spring in any direction. Yet none of this was
+really necessary. All the danger so far was nonphysical. When he did
+give conscious thought to the situation he stopped, startled. What
+was wrong here? None of the men had moved or made a sound. How could
+he even know they were men? They were so muffled and wrapped in
+cloth that only their eyes were exposed.
+
+No doubt, however, existed in Brion's mind. In spite of muffled
+cloth and silence, he knew them for what they were. The eyes were
+empty of expression and unmoving, yet were filled with the same
+negative emptiness as those of a bird of prey. They could look on
+life, death, and the rending of flesh with the same lack of interest
+and compassion. All this Brion knew in an instant of time, without
+words being spoken. Between the time he lifted one foot and walked a
+step he understood what he had to face. There could be no doubt, not
+to an empathetic.
+
+From the group of silent men poured a frost-white wave of unemotion.
+An empathetic shares what other men feel. He gets his knowledge of
+their reaction by sensing lightly their emotions, the surges of
+interest, hate, love, fear, desire, the sweep of large and small
+sensations that accompany all thought and action. The empathetic
+is always aware of this constant and silent surge, whether he makes
+the effort to understand it or not. He is like a man glancing across
+the open pages of a tableful of books. He can see that the type, words,
+paragraphs, thoughts are there, even without focusing his attention
+to understand any of it.
+
+Then how does the man feel when he glances at the open books and
+sees only blank pages? The books are there--the words are not. He
+turns the pages of one, of the others, flipping the pages, searching
+for meaning. There is no meaning. All of the pages are blank.
+
+This was the way in which the magter were blank, without emotions.
+There was a barely sensed surge and return that must have been
+neural impulses on a basic level--the automatic adjustments of nerve
+and muscle that keep an organism alive. Nothing more. Brion reached
+for other sensations, but there was nothing there to grasp. Either
+these men were without emotions, or they were able to block them
+from his detection; it was impossible to tell which.
+
+Very little time had passed while Brion made these discoveries. The
+knot of men still looked at him, silent and unmoving. They weren't
+expectant, their attitude could not have been called one of
+interest. But he had come to them and now they waited to find out
+why. Any questions or statements they spoke would be superfluous,
+so they didn't speak. The responsibility was his.
+
+"I have come to talk with Lig-magte. Who is he?" Brion didn't like
+the tiny sound his voice made in the immense room.
+
+One of the men gave a slight motion to draw attention to himself.
+None of the others moved. They still waited.
+
+"I have a message for you," Brion said, speaking slowly to fill the
+silence of the room and the emptiness of his thoughts. This had to
+be handled right. But what was right? "I'm from the Foundation in
+the city, as you undoubtedly know. I've been talking to the people
+of Nyjord. They have a message for you."
+
+The silence grew longer. Brion had no intention of making this a
+monologue. He needed facts to operate, to form an opinion. Looking
+at the silent forms was telling him nothing. Time stretched taut,
+and finally Lig-magte spoke.
+
+"The Nyjorders are going to surrender."
+
+It was an impossibly strange sentence. Brion had never realized
+before how much of the content of speech was made up of emotion.
+If the man had given it a positive emphasis, perhaps said it with
+enthusiasm, it would have meant, "Success! The enemy is going to
+surrender!" This wasn't the meaning.
+
+With a rising inflection on the end it would have been a question.
+"Are they going to surrender?" It was neither of these. The sentence
+carried no other message than that contained in the simplest
+meanings of the separate words. It had intellectual connotations,
+but these could only be gained from past knowledge, not from the
+sound of the words. There was only one message they were prepared
+to receive from Nyjord. Therefore Brion was bringing the message.
+If that was not the message Brion was bringing the men here were
+not interested.
+
+This was the vital fact. If they were not interested he could have
+no further value to them. Since he came from the enemy, he was the
+enemy. Therefore he would be killed. Because this was vital to his
+existence, Brion took the time to follow the thought through. It
+made logical sense--and logic was all he could depend on now. He
+could be talking to robots or alien creatures, for all the human
+response he was receiving.
+
+"You can't win this war--all you can do is hurry your own deaths."
+He said this with as much conviction as he could, realizing at the
+same time that it was wasted effort. No flicker of response stirred
+in the men before him. "The Nyjorders know you have the cobalt
+bombs, and they have detected your jump-space projector. They can't
+take any more chances. They have pushed the deadline closer by an
+entire day. There are one and a half days left before the bombs fall
+and you are all destroyed. Do you realize what that means--"
+
+"Is that the message?" Lig-magte asked.
+
+"Yes," Brion said.
+
+Two things saved his life then. He had guessed what would happen as
+soon as they had his message, though he hadn't been sure. But even
+the suspicion had put him on his guard. This, combined with the
+reflexes of a Winner of the Twenties, was barely enough to enable
+him to survive.
+
+From frozen mobility Lig-magte had catapulted into headlong attack.
+As he leaped forward he drew a curved, double-edged blade from under
+his robes. It plunged unerringly through the spot where Brion's body
+had been an instant before.
+
+There had been no time to tense his muscles and jump, just the space
+of time to relax them and fall to one side. His reasoning mind
+joined the battle as he hit the floor. Lig-magte plunged by him,
+turning and bringing the knife down at the same time. Brion's foot
+lashed out and caught the other man's leg, sending him sprawling.
+
+They were both on their feet at the same instant, facing each other.
+Brion now had his hands clasped before him in the unarmed man's
+best defense against a knife, the two arms protecting the body,
+the two hands joined to beat aside the knife arm from whichever
+direction it came. The Disan hunched low, flipped the knife quickly
+from hand to hand, then thrust it again at Brion's midriff.
+
+Only by the merest fractional margin did Brion evade the attack for
+the second time. Lig-magte fought with utter violence. Every action
+was as intense as possible, deadly and thorough. There could be only
+one end to this unequal contest if Brion stayed on the defensive.
+The man with the knife had to win.
+
+With the next charge Brion changed tactics. He leaped inside the
+thrust, clutching for the knife arm. A burning slice of pain cut
+across his arm, then his fingers clutched the tendoned wrist. They
+clamped down hard, grinding shut, compressing with the tightening
+intensity of a closing vise.
+
+It was all he could do simply to hold on. There was no science in
+it, just his greater strength from exercise and existence on a
+heavier planet. All of this strength went to his clutching hand,
+because he held his own life in that hand, forcing away the knife
+that wanted to terminate it forever. Nothing else mattered--neither
+the frightening force of the knees that thudded into his body nor
+the hooked fingers that reached for his eyes to tear them out. He
+protected his face as well as he could, while the nails tore furrows
+through his flesh and the cut on his arm bled freely. These were
+only minor things to be endured. His life depended on the grasp of
+the fingers of his right hand.
+
+There was a sudden immobility as Brion succeeded in clutching
+Lig-magte's other arm. It was a good grip, and he could hold the arm
+immobilized. They had reached stasis, standing knee to knee, their
+faces only a few inches apart. The muffling cloth had fallen from
+the Disan's face during the struggle, and empty, frigid eyes stared
+into Brion's. No flicker of emotion crossed the harsh planes of the
+other man's face. A great puckered white scar covered one cheek and
+pulled up a corner of the mouth in a cheerless grimace. It was
+false; there was still no expression here, even when the pain must
+be growing more intense.
+
+Brion was winning--if none of the watchers broke the impasse.
+His greater weight and strength counted now. The Disan would have
+to drop the knife before his arm was dislocated at the shoulder.
+He didn't do it. With sudden horror Brion realized that he wasn't
+going to drop it--no matter what happened.
+
+A dull, hideous snap jerked through the Disan's body and the arm
+hung limp and dead. No expression crossed the man's face. The knife
+was still locked in the fingers of the paralyzed hand. With his
+other hand Lig-magte reached across and started to pry the blade
+loose, ready to continue the battle one-handed. Brion raised his
+foot and kicked the knife free, sending it spinning across the room.
+
+Lig-magte made a fist of his good hand and crashed it into Brion's
+groin. He was still fighting, as if nothing had changed. Brion
+backed slowly away from the man. "Stop it," he said. "You can't win
+now. It's impossible." He called to the other men who were watching
+the unequal battle with expressionless immobility. No one answered
+him.
+
+With a terrible sinking sensation Brion then realized what would
+happen and what he had to do. Lig-magte was as heedless of his own
+life as he was of the life of his planet. He would press the attack
+no matter what damage was done to him. Brion had an insane vision of
+him breaking the man's other arm, fracturing both his legs, and the
+limbless broken creature still coming forward. Crawling, rolling,
+teeth bared, since they were the only remaining weapon.
+
+There was only one way to end it. Brion feinted and the Lig-magte's
+arm moved clear of his body. The engulfing cloth was thin and
+through it Brion could see the outlines of the Disan's abdomen and
+rib cage, the clear location of the great nerve ganglion.
+
+It was the death blow of kara-te. Brion had never used it on a man.
+In practice he had broken heavy boards, splintering them instantly
+with the short, precise stroke. The stiffened hand moving forward
+in a sudden surge, all the weight and energy of his body
+concentrated in his joined fingertips. Plunging deep into the
+other's flesh.
+
+Killing, not by accident or in sudden anger. Killing because this
+was the only way the battle could possibly end.
+
+Like a ruined tower of flesh, the Disan crumpled and fell.
+
+Dripping blood, exhausted, Brion stood over the body of Lig-magte
+and stared at the dead man's allies.
+
+Death filled the room.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+Facing the silent Disans, Brion's thoughts hurtled about in sweeping
+circles. There would be no more than an instant's tick of time
+before the magter avenged themselves bloodily and completely. He
+felt a fleeting regret for not having brought his gun, then
+abandoned the thought. There was no time for regrets--what could he
+do _now_?
+
+The silent watchers hadn't attacked instantly, and Brion realized
+that they couldn't be positive yet that Lig-magte had been killed.
+Only Brion himself knew the deadliness of that blow. Their lack of
+knowledge might buy him a little more time.
+
+"Lig-magte is unconscious, but he will revive quickly," Brion said,
+pointing at the huddled body. As the eyes turned automatically to
+follow his finger, he began walking slowly towards the exit. "I did
+not want to do this, but he forced me to, because he wouldn't listen
+to reason. Now I have something else to show you, something that I
+hoped it would not be necessary to reveal."
+
+He was saying the first words that came into his head, trying to
+keep them distracted as long as possible. He must appear to be only
+going across the room, that was the feeling he must generate. There
+was even time to stop for a second and straighten his rumpled
+clothing and brush the sweat from his eyes. Talking easily, walking
+slowly towards the hall that led out of the chamber.
+
+He was halfway there when the spell broke and the rush began. One of
+the magter knelt and touched the body, and shouted a single word:
+
+"Dead!"
+
+Brion hadn't waited for the official announcement. At the first
+movement of feet, he dived headlong for the shelter of the exit.
+There was a spatter of tiny missiles on the wall next to him and he
+had a brief glimpse of raised blowguns before the wall intervened.
+He went up the dimly lit stairs three at a time.
+
+The pack was just behind him, voiceless and deadly. He could not
+gain on them--if anything, they were closing the distance as he
+pushed his already tired body to the utmost. There was no subtlety
+or trick he could use now, just straightforward flight back the way
+he had come. A single slip on the irregular steps and it would be
+all over.
+
+There was someone ahead of him. If the woman had waited a few
+seconds more he would certainly have been killed; but instead of
+slashing at him as he went by the doorway, she made the mistake of
+rushing to the center of the stairs, the knife ready to impale him
+as he came up. Without slowing, Brion fell onto his hands and easily
+dodged under the blow. As he passed he twisted and seized her around
+the waist, picking her from the ground.
+
+When her legs lifted from under her the woman screamed--the first
+human sound Brion had heard in this human anthill. His pursuers were
+just behind him, and he hurled the woman into them with all his
+strength. They fell in a tangle, and Brion used the precious seconds
+gained to reach the top of the building.
+
+There must have been other stairs and exits, because one of the
+magter stood between Brion and the way down out of this trap--armed
+and ready to kill him if he tried to pass.
+
+As he ran towards the executioner, Brion flicked on his collar radio
+and shouted into it. "I'm in trouble here. Can you--"
+
+The guards in the car must have been waiting for this message.
+Before he had finished there was the thud of a high-velocity slug
+hitting flesh and the Disan spun and fell, blood soaking his
+shoulder. Brion leaped over him and headed for the ramp.
+
+"The next one is me--hold your fire!" he called.
+
+Both guards must have had their telescopic sights zeroed on the
+spot. They let Brion pass, then threw in a hail of semi-automatic
+fire that tore chunks from the stone and screamed away in noisy
+ricochets. Brion didn't try to see if anyone was braving this hail
+of covering fire; he concentrated his energies on making as quick
+and erratic a descent as he could. Above the sounds of the firing he
+heard the car motor howl as it leaped forward. With their careful
+aim spoiled, the gunners switched to full automatic and unleashed
+a hailstorm of flying metal that bracketed the top of the tower.
+
+"Cease ... firing!" Brion gasped into the radio as he ran. The
+driver was good, and timed his arrival with exactitude. The car
+reached the base of the tower at the same instant Brion did, and he
+burst through the door while it was still moving. No orders were
+necessary. He fell headlong onto a seat as the car swung in a
+dust-raising turn and ground into high gear, back to the city.
+
+Reaching over carefully, the tall guard gently extracted a bit of
+pointed wood and fluff from a fold of Brion's pants. He cracked open
+the car door, and just as delicately threw it out.
+
+"I knew that thing didn't touch you," he said, "since you are still
+among the living. They've got a poison on those blowgun darts that
+takes all of twelve seconds to work. Lucky."
+
+Lucky! Brion was beginning to realize just how lucky he was to be
+out of the trap alive. And with information. Now that he knew more
+about the magter, he shuddered at his innocence in walking alone and
+unarmed into the tower. Skill had helped him survive--but better
+than average luck had been necessary. Curiosity had gotten him in,
+brashness and speed had taken him out. He was exhausted, battered
+and bloody--but cheerfully happy. The facts about the magter were
+arranging themselves into a theory that might explain their attempt
+at racial suicide. It just needed a little time to be put into
+shape.
+
+A pain cut across his arm and he jumped, startled, pieces of his
+thoughts crashing into ruin around him. The gunner had cracked the
+first-aid box and was swabbing his arm with antiseptic. The knife
+wound was long, but not deep. Brion shivered while the bandage was
+going on, then quickly slipped into his coat. The air conditioner
+whined industriously, bringing down the temperature.
+
+There was no attempt to follow the car. When the black tower had
+dropped over the horizon the guards relaxed, ran cleaning rods
+through their guns and compared marksmanship. All of their
+antagonism towards Brion was gone; they actually smiled at him.
+He had given them the first chance to shoot back since they had
+been on this planet.
+
+The ride was uneventful, and Brion was scarcely aware of it.
+A theory was taking form in his mind. It was radical and
+startling--yet it seemed to be the only one that fitted the facts.
+He pushed at it from all sides, but if there were any holes he
+couldn't find them. What it needed was dispassionate proving or
+disproving. There was only one person on Dis who was qualified
+to do this.
+
+Lea was working in the lab when he came in, bent over a low-power
+binocular microscope. Something small, limbless and throbbing was
+on the slide. She glanced up when she heard his footsteps, smiling
+warmly when she recognized him. Fatigue and pain had drawn her face;
+her skin, glistening with burn ointment, was chapped and peeling.
+
+"I must look a wreck," she said, putting the back of her hand to her
+cheek. "Something like a well-oiled and lightly cooked piece of
+beef." She lowered her arm suddenly and took his hand in both of
+hers. Her palms were warm and slightly moist.
+
+"Thank you, Brion," was all she could say. Her society on Earth was
+highly civilized and sophisticated, able to discuss any topic
+without emotion and without embarrassment. This was fine in most
+circumstances, but made it difficult to thank a person for saving
+your life. However you tried to phrase it, it came out sounding like
+a last-act speech from a historical play. There was no doubt,
+however, as to what she meant. Her eyes were large and dark, the
+pupils dilated by the drugs she had been given. They could not lie,
+nor could the emotions he sensed. He did not answer, just held her
+hand an instant longer.
+
+"How do you feel," he asked, concerned. His conscience twinged as
+he remembered that he was the one who had ordered her out of bed
+and back to work today.
+
+"I should be feeling terrible," she said, with an airy wave of her
+hand. "But I'm walking on top of the world. I'm so loaded with
+pain-killers and stimulants that I'm high as the moon. All the
+nerves to my feet feel turned off--it's like walking on two balls
+of fluff. Thanks for getting me out of that awful hospital and back
+to work."
+
+Brion was suddenly sorry for having driven her from her sick bed.
+
+"Don't be sorry!" Lea said, apparently reading his mind, but really
+seeing only his sudden ashamed expression. "I'm feeling no pain.
+Honestly. I feel a little light-headed and foggy at times, nothing
+more. And this is the job I came here to do. In fact ... well, it's
+almost impossible to tell you just how fascinating it all is! It was
+almost worth getting baked and parboiled for."
+
+She swung back to the microscope, centering the specimen with a turn
+of the stage adjustment screw. "Poor Ihjel was right when he said
+this planet was exobiologically fascinating. This is a gastropod,
+a lot like _Odostomia_, but it has parasitical morphological changes
+so profound that--"
+
+"There's something else I remember," Brion said, interrupting her
+enthusiastic lecture, only half of which he could understand.
+"Didn't Ihjel also hope that you would give some study to the
+natives as well as their environment? The problem is with the
+Disans--not with the local wild life."
+
+"But I _am_ studying them," Lea insisted. "The Disans have attained
+an incredibly advanced form of commensalism. Their lives are so
+intimately connected and integrated with the other life forms that
+they must be studied in relation to their environment. I doubt if
+they show as many external physical changes as little eating-foot
+_Odostomia_ on the slide here, but there will surely be a number of
+psychological changes and adjustments that will crop up. One of
+these might be the explanation of their urge for planetary
+suicide."
+
+"That may be true--but I don't think so," Brion said. "I went on
+a little expedition this morning and found something that has more
+immediate relevancy."
+
+For the first time Lea became aware of his slightly battered
+condition. Her drug-grooved mind could only follow a single idea at
+a time and had over-looked the significance of the bandage and dirt.
+
+"I've been visiting," Brion said, forestalling the question on her
+lips. "The magter are the ones who are responsible for causing the
+trouble, and I had to see them up close before I could make any
+decisions. It wasn't a very pleasant thing, but I found out what
+I wanted to know. They are different in every way from the normal
+Disans. I've compared them. I've talked to Ulv--the native who saved
+us in the desert--and I can understand him. He is not like us in
+many ways--he certainly couldn't be, living in this oven--but he is
+still undeniably human. He gave us drinking water when we needed it,
+then brought help. The magter, the upper-class lords of Dis, are
+the direct opposite. As cold-blooded and ruthless a bunch of
+murderers as you can possibly imagine. They tried to kill me when
+they met me, without reason. Their clothes, habits, dwellings,
+manners--everything about them differs from that of the normal
+Disan. More important, the magter are as coldly efficient and
+inhuman as a reptile. They have no emotions, no love, no hate,
+no anger, no fear--nothing. Each of them is a chilling bundle of
+thought processes and reactions, with all the emotions removed."
+
+"Aren't you exaggerating?" Lea asked. "After all, you can't be sure.
+It might just be part of their training not to reveal any emotional
+state. Everyone must experience emotional states, whether they like
+it or not."
+
+"That's my main point. Everyone does--except the magter. I can't go
+into all the details now, so you'll just have to take my word for
+it. Even at the point of death they have no fear or hatred. It may
+sound impossible, but it is true."
+
+Lea tried to shake the knots from her drug-hazed mind. "I'm dull
+today," she said. "You'll have to excuse me. If these rulers had no
+emotional responses, that might explain their present suicidal
+position. But an explanation like this raises more new problems than
+it supplies answers to the old ones. How did they get this way! It
+doesn't seem humanly possible to be without emotions of some kind."
+
+"Just my point. Not _humanly_ possible. I think these ruling class
+Disans aren't human at all, like the other Disans. I think they are
+alien creatures--robots or androids--anything except men. I think
+they are living in disguise among the normal human dwellers."
+
+At first Lea started to smile, then her feeling changed when she saw
+his face. "You are serious?" she asked.
+
+"Never more so. I realize it must sound as if I've had my brains
+bounced around too much this morning. Yet this is the only idea I
+can come up with that fits all of the facts. Look at the evidence
+yourself. One simple thing stands out clearly, and must be
+considered first if any theory is to hold up. That is the magters'
+complete indifference to death--their own or anyone else's. Is that
+normal to mankind?"
+
+"No--but I can find a couple of explanations that I would rather
+explore first, before dragging in an alien life form. There may have
+been a mutation or an inherited disease that has deformed or warped
+their minds."
+
+"Wouldn't that be sort of self-eliminating?" Brion asked.
+"Anti-survival? People who die before puberty would find it a little
+difficult to pass on a mutation to their children. But let's not
+beat this one point to death--it's the totality of these people that
+I find so hard to accept. Any one thing might be explained away, but
+not the collection of them. What about their complete lack of
+emotion? Or their manner of dress and their secrecy in general? The
+ordinary Disan wears a cloth kilt, while the magter cover themselves
+as completely as possible. They stay in their black towers and
+never go out except in groups. Their dead are always removed so they
+can't be examined. In every way they act like a race apart--and I
+think they are."
+
+"Granted for the moment that this outlandish idea might be true, how
+did they get here? And why doesn't anyone know about it besides them?"
+
+"Easily enough explained," Brion insisted. "There are no written
+records on this planet. After the Breakdown, when the handful of
+survivors were just trying to exist here, the aliens could have
+landed and moved in. Any interference could have been wiped out.
+Once the population began to grow, the invaders found they could
+keep control by staying separate, so their alien difference wouldn't
+be noticed."
+
+"Why should that bother them?" Lea asked. "If they are so
+indifferent to death, they can't have any strong thoughts on public
+opinion or alien body odor. Why would they bother with such a
+complex camouflage? And if they arrived from another planet, what
+has happened to the scientific ability that brought them here?"
+
+"Peace," Brion said. "I don't know enough to be able even to guess
+at answers to half your questions. I'm just trying to fit a theory
+to the facts. And the facts are clear. The magter are so inhuman
+they would give me nightmares--if I were sleeping these days. What
+we need is more evidence."
+
+"Then get it," Lea said with finality. "I'm not telling you to turn
+murderer--but you might try a bit of grave-digging. Give me a
+scalpel and one of your friends stretched out on a slab and I'll
+quickly tell you what he is or is not." She turned back to the
+microscope and bent over the eyepiece.
+
+That was really the only way to hack the Gordian knot. Dis had only
+thirty-six more hours to live, so individual deaths shouldn't be of
+any concern. He had to find a dead magter, and if none was
+obtainable in the proper condition he had to get one of them by
+violence. For a planetary savior, he was personally doing in an
+awful lot of the citizenry.
+
+He stood behind Lea, looking down at her thoughtfully while she
+worked. The back of her neck, lightly covered with gently curling
+hair, was turned toward him. With one of the about-face shifts
+the mind is capable of, his thoughts flipped from death to life,
+and he experienced a strong desire to caress this spot lightly,
+to feel the yielding texture of female flesh....
+
+Plunging his hands deep into his pockets, he walked quickly to the
+door. "Get some rest soon," he called to her. "I doubt if those bugs
+will give you the answer. I'm going now to see if I can get the
+full-sized specimen you want."
+
+"The truth could be anywhere. I'll stay on these until you come
+back," she said, not looking up from the microscope.
+
+Up under the roof was a well-equipped communications room. Brion
+had taken a quick look at it when he had first toured the building.
+The duty operator had earphones on--though only one of the phones
+covered an ear--and was monitoring through the bands. His shoeless
+feet were on the edge of the table, and he was eating a thick
+sandwich held in his free hand. His eyes bulged when he saw Brion
+in the doorway and he jumped into a flurry of action.
+
+"Hold the pose," Brion told him; "it doesn't bother me. And if you
+make any sudden moves you are liable to break a phone, electrocute
+yourself, or choke to death. Just see if you can set the transceiver
+on this frequency for me." Brion wrote the number on a scratch
+pad and slid it over to the operator. It was the frequency
+Professor-Commander Krafft had given him for the radio of the
+illegal terrorists--the Nyjord army.
+
+The operator plugged in a handset and gave it to Brion. "Circuit
+open," he mumbled around a mouthful of still unswallowed sandwich.
+
+"This is Brandd, director of the C.R.F. Come in, please." He went on
+repeating this for more than ten minutes before he got an answer.
+
+"_What do you want?_"
+
+"I have a message of vital urgency for you--and I would also like
+your help. Do you want any more information on the radio?
+
+"_No. Wait there--we'll get in touch with you after dark._"
+The carrier wave went dead.
+
+Thirty-five hours to the end of the world--and all he could do was wait.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+On Brion's desk when he came in, were two neat piles of paper. As he
+sat down and reached for them he was conscious of an arctic coldness
+in the air, a frigid blast. It was coming from the air-conditioner
+grill, which was now covered by welded steel bars. The control unit
+was sealed shut. Someone was either being very funny or very
+efficient. Either way, it was cold. Brion kicked at the cover plate
+until it buckled, then bent it aside. After a careful look into the
+interior he disconnected one wire and shorted it to another. He was
+rewarded by a number of sputtering cracks and a quantity of smoke.
+The compressor moaned and expired.
+
+Faussel was standing in the door with more papers, a shocked
+expression on his face. "What do you have there?" Brion asked.
+
+Faussel managed to straighten out his face and brought the folders
+to the desk, arranging them on the piles already there. "These are
+the progress reports you asked for, from all units. Details to date,
+conclusions, suggestions, et cetera."
+
+"And the other pile?" Brion pointed.
+
+"Offplanet correspondence, commissary invoices, requisitions." He
+straightened the edges of the stack while he answered. "Daily
+reports, hospital log...." His voice died away and stopped as Brion
+carefully pushed the stack off the edge of the desk into the
+wastebasket.
+
+"In other words, red tape," Brion said. "Well, it's all filed."
+
+One by one the progress reports followed the first stack into the
+basket, until the desk was clear. Nothing. It was just what he had
+expected. But there had always been the off chance that one of the
+specialists could come up with a new approach. They hadn't; they
+were all too busy specializing.
+
+Outside the sky was darkening. The front entrance guard had been
+told to let in anyone who came asking for the director. There was
+nothing else Brion could do until the Nyjord rebels made contact.
+Irritation bit at him. At least Lea was doing something
+constructive; he could look in on her.
+
+He opened the door to the lab with a feeling of pleasant
+anticipation. It froze and shattered instantly. Her microscope was
+hooded and she was gone. _She's having dinner_, he thought,
+or--_she's in the hospital_. The hospital was on the floor below,
+and he went there first.
+
+"Of course she's here!" Dr. Stine grumbled. "Where else should
+a girl in her condition be? She was out of bed long enough today.
+Tomorrow's the last day, and if you want to get any more work out
+of her before the deadline, you had better let her rest tonight.
+Better let the whole staff rest. I've been handing out tranquilizers
+like aspirin all day. They're falling apart."
+
+"The world's falling apart. How is Lea doing?"
+
+"Considering her shape, she's fine. Go in and see for yourself if
+you won't take my word for it. I have other patients to look at."
+
+"Are you that worried, Doctor?"
+
+"Of course I am! I'm just as prone to the weakness of the flesh as
+the rest of you. We're sitting on a ticking bomb and I don't like
+it. I'll do my job as long as it is necessary, but I'll also be
+damned glad to see the ships land to pull us out. The only skin that
+I really feel emotionally concerned about right now is my own. And
+if you want to be let in on a public secret--the rest of your staff
+feels the same way. So don't look forward to too much efficiency."
+
+"I never did," Brion said to the retreating back.
+
+Lea's room was dark, illuminated only by the light of Dis's moon
+slanting in through the window. Brion let himself in and closed the
+door behind him. Walking quietly, he went over to the bed. Lea was
+sleeping soundly, her breathing gentle and regular. A night's sleep
+now would do as much good as all the medication.
+
+He should have gone then; instead, he sat down in the chair placed
+next to the head of the bed. The guards knew where he was--he could
+wait here just as well as any place else.
+
+It was a stolen moment of peace on a world at the brink of
+destruction. He was grateful for it. Everything looked less harsh
+in the moonlight, and he rubbed some of the tension from his eyes.
+Lea's face was ironed smooth by the light, beautiful and young, a
+direct contrast to everything else on this poisonous world. Her hand
+was outside of the covers and he took it in his own, obeying a
+sudden impulse. Looking out of the window at the desert in the
+distance, he let the peace wash over him, forcing himself to forget
+for the moment that in one more day life would be stripped from this
+planet.
+
+Later, when he looked back at Lea he saw that her eyes were open,
+though she hadn't moved. How long had she been awake? He jerked his
+hand away from hers, feeling suddenly guilty.
+
+"Is the boss-man looking after the serfs, to see if they're fit for
+the treadmills in the morning?" she asked. It was the kind of remark
+she had used with such frequency in the ship, though it didn't sound
+quite as harsh now. And she was smiling. Yet it reminded him too
+well of her superior attitude towards rubes from the stellar sticks.
+Here he might be the director, but on ancient Earth he would be only
+one more gaping, lead-footed yokel.
+
+"How do you feel?" he asked, realizing and hating the triteness of
+the words, even as he said them.
+
+"Terrible. I'll be dead by morning. Reach me a piece of fruit from
+that bowl, will you? My mouth tastes like an old boot heel. I wonder
+how fresh fruit ever got here. Probably a gift to the working
+classes from the smiling planetary murderers on Nyjord."
+
+She took the apple Brion gave her and bit into it. "Did you ever
+think of going to Earth?"
+
+Brion was startled. This was too close to his own thoughts about
+planetary backgrounds. There couldn't possibly be a connection
+though. "Never," he told her. "Up until a few months ago I never
+even considered leaving Anvhar. The Twenties are such a big thing at
+home that it is hard to imagine that anything else exists while you
+are still taking part in them."
+
+"Spare me the Twenties," she pleaded. "After listening to you and
+Ihjel, I know far more about them than I shall ever care to know.
+But what about Anvhar itself? Do you have big city-states as Earth
+does?"
+
+"Nothing like that. For its size, it has a very small population.
+No big cities at all. I guess the largest centers of population
+are around the schools, packing plants, things like that."
+
+"Any exobiologists there?" Lea asked, with a woman's eternal ability
+to make any general topic personal.
+
+"At the universities, I suppose, though I wouldn't know for sure.
+And you must realize that when I say no big cities, I also mean no
+little cities. We aren't organized that way at all. I imagine the
+basic physical unit is the family and the circle of friends. Friends
+get important quickly, since the family breaks up when children are
+still relatively young. Something in the genes, I suppose--we all
+enjoy being alone. I suppose you might call it an inbred survival
+trait."
+
+"Up to a point," she said, biting delicately into the apple. "Carry
+that sort of thing too far and you end up with no population at all.
+A certain amount of proximity is necessary for that."
+
+"Of course it is. And there must be some form of recognized
+relationship or control--that or complete promiscuity. On Anvhar
+the emphasis is on personal responsibility, and that seems to take care
+of the problem. If we didn't have an adult way of looking at ...
+things, our kind of life would be impossible. Individuals are
+brought together either by accident or design, and with this
+proximity must be some certainty of relations...."
+
+"You're losing me," Lea protested. "Either I'm still foggy from
+the dope, or you are suddenly unable to speak a word of less than
+four syllables. You know--whenever this happens with you, I get
+the distinct impression that you are trying to cover up something.
+For Occam's sake, be specific! Bring me together two of these
+hypothetical individuals and tell me what happens."
+
+Brion took a deep breath. He was in over his head and far from
+shore. "Well--take a bachelor like myself. Since I like
+cross-country skiing I make my home in this big house our family
+has, right at the edge of the Broken Hills. In summer I looked after
+a drumtum herd, but after slaughtering my time was my own all
+winter. I did a lot of skiing, and used to work for the Twenties.
+Sometimes I would go visiting. Then again, people would drop in on
+me--houses are few and far between on Anvhar. We don't even have
+locks on our doors. You accept and give hospitality without
+qualification. Whoever comes. Male ... female ... in groups or just
+traveling alone...."
+
+"I get the drift. Life must be dull for a single girl on your
+iceberg planet. She must surely have to stay home a lot."
+
+"Only if she wants to. Otherwise she can go wherever she wishes and
+be welcomed as another individual. I suppose it is out of fashion
+in the rest of the galaxy--and would probably raise a big laugh on
+Earth--but a platonic, disinterested friendship between man and
+woman is an accepted thing on Anvhar."
+
+"Sounds exceedingly dull. If you are all such cool and distant
+friends, how do babies get made?"
+
+Brion felt his ears reddening, not sure if he was being teased or
+not. "The same damn way they get made any place else! But it's not
+just a reflexive process like a couple of rabbits that happen to
+meet under the same bush. It's the woman's choice to indicate if
+she is interested in marriage."
+
+"Is marriage the only thing your women are interested in?"
+
+"Marriage or ... anything else. That's up to the girl. We have a
+special problem on Anvhar--probably the same thing occurs on every
+planet where the human race has made a massive adaptation. Not all
+unions are fertile and there is always a large percentage of
+miscarriages. A large number of births are conceived by artificial
+insemination. Which is all right when you can't have babies
+normally. But most women have an emotional bias towards having
+their husband's children. And there is only one way to find out
+if this is possible."
+
+Lea's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting that your girls see if a man
+can father children _before_ considering marriage?"
+
+"Of course. Otherwise Anvhar would have been depopulated centuries
+ago. Therefore the woman does the choosing. If she is interested in
+a man, she says so. If she is not interested, the man would never
+think of suggesting anything. It's a lot different from other
+planets, but so is our planet Anvhar. It works well for us, which
+is the only test that applies."
+
+"Just about the opposite of Earth," Lea told him, dropping the apple
+core into a dish and carefully licking the tips of her fingers. "I
+guess you Anvharians would describe Earth as a planetary hotbed of
+sexuality. The reverse of your system, and going full blast all the
+time. There are far too many people there for comfort. Birth control
+came late and is still being fought--if you can possibly imagine
+that. There are just too many of the archaic religions still around,
+as well as crackbrained ideas that have been long entrenched in
+custom. The world's overcrowded. Men, women, children, a boiling mob
+wherever you look. And all of the physically mature ones seem to be
+involved in the Great Game of Love. The male is always the
+aggressor. Not physically--at least not often--and women take the
+most outrageous kinds of flattery for granted. At parties there are
+always a couple of hot breaths of passion fanning your neck. A girl
+has to keep her spike heels filed sharp."
+
+"She has to _what_?"
+
+"A figure of speech, Brion. Meaning you fight back all the time,
+if you don't want to be washed under by the flood."
+
+"Sounds rather"--Brion weighed the word before he said it, but
+could find none other suitable--"repellent."
+
+"From your point of view, it would be. I'm afraid we get so used to
+it that we even take it for granted. Sociologically speaking...."
+She stopped and looked at Brion's straight back and almost rigid
+posture. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in an unspoken _oh_
+of sudden realization.
+
+"I'm being a fool," she said. "You weren't speaking generally at
+all! You had a very specific subject in mind. Namely _me_!"
+
+"Please, Lea, you must understand...."
+
+"But I do!" She laughed. "All the time I thought you were being a
+frigid and hard-hearted lump of ice, you were really being very
+sweet. Just playing the game in good old Anvharian style. Waiting
+for a sign from me. We'd still be playing by different rules if you
+hadn't had more sense than I, and finally realized that somewhere
+along the line we must have got our signals mixed. And I thought you
+were some kind of frosty offworld celibate." She let her hand go out
+and her fingers rustled through his hair. Something she had been
+wanting to do for a long time.
+
+"I had to," he said, trying to ignore the light touch of her
+fingers. "Because I thought so much of you, I couldn't have done
+anything to insult you. Such as forcing my attentions on you. Until
+I began to worry where the insult would lie, since I knew nothing
+about your planet's mores."
+
+"Well, you know now," she said very softly. "The men aggress. Now
+that I understand, I think I like your way better. But I'm still not
+sure of all the rules. Do I explain that yes, Brion, I like you so
+very much? You are more man, in one great big wide-shouldered lump,
+than I have ever met before. It's not quite the time or the place
+to discuss marriage, but I would certainly like--"
+
+His arms were around her, holding her to him. Her hands clasped him
+and their lips sought each other's in the darkness.
+
+"Gently ..." she whispered. "I bruise easily...."
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+"He wouldn't come in, sir. Just hammered on the door and said,
+'_I'm here, tell Brandd._'"
+
+"Good enough," Brion said, fitting his gun in the holster and
+sliding the extra clips into his pocket. "I'm going out now, and I
+should return before dawn. Get one of the wheeled stretchers down
+here from the hospital. I'll want it waiting when I get back."
+
+Outside, the street was darker than he remembered. Brion frowned
+and his hand moved towards his gun. Someone had put all the nearby
+lights out of commission. There was just enough illumination from
+the stars to enable him to make out the dark bulk of a sand car.
+
+"Brion Brandd?" a voice spoke harshly from the car. "Get in."
+
+The motor roared as soon as he had closed the door. Without lights
+the sand car churned a path through the city and out into the
+desert. Though the speed picked up, the driver still drove in the
+dark, feeling his way with a light touch on the controls. The ground
+rose, and when they reached the top of a mesa he killed the engine.
+Neither the driver nor Brion had spoken a word since they left.
+
+A switch snapped and the instrument lights came on. In their dim
+glow Brion could just make out the other man's hawklike profile.
+When he moved, Brion saw that his figure was cruelly shortened.
+Either accident or a mutated gene had warped his spine, hunching him
+forward in eternally bent supplication. Warped bodies were rare--his
+was the first Brion had ever seen. He wondered what series of events
+had kept him from medical attention all his life. This might explain
+the bitterness and pain in the man's voice.
+
+"Did the mighty brains on Nyjord bother to tell you that they have
+chopped another day off the deadline?" the man asked. "That this
+world is about to come to an end?"
+
+"Yes, I know," Brion said. "That's why I'm asking your group for
+help. Our time is running out too fast."
+
+The man didn't answer; he merely grunted and gave his full attention
+to the radar pings and glowing screen. The electronic senses reached
+out as he made a check on all the search frequencies to see if they
+were being followed.
+
+"Where are we going?" Brion asked.
+
+"Out into the desert." The driver made a vague wave of his hand.
+"Headquarters of the army. Since the whole thing will be blown up in
+another day, I guess I can tell you it's the only camp we have. All
+the cars, men and weapons are based there. And Hys. He's the man in
+charge. Tomorrow it will be all gone--along with this cursed planet.
+What's your business with us?"
+
+"Shouldn't I be telling Hys that?"
+
+"Suit yourself." Satisfied with the instrument search, the driver
+kicked the car to life again and churned on across the desert. "But
+we're a volunteer army and we have no secrets from each other. Just
+from the fools at home who are going to kill this world." There was
+a bitterness in his words that he made no attempt to conceal. "They
+fought among themselves and put off a firm decision so long that now
+they are forced to commit murder."
+
+"From what I had heard, I thought that it was the other way around.
+They call your Nyjord army terrorists."
+
+"We are. Because we are an army and we're at war. The idealists at
+home only understood that when it was too late. If they had backed
+us in the beginning we would have blown open every black castle on
+Dis, searched until we found those bombs. But that would have meant
+wanton destruction and death. They wouldn't consider that. Now they
+are going to kill everyone, destroy everything." He flicked on the
+panel lights just long enough to take a compass bearing, and Brion
+saw the tortured unhappiness in his twisted body.
+
+"It's not over yet," Brion said. "There is more than a day left,
+and I think I'm onto something that might stop the war--without
+any bombs being dropped."
+
+"You're in charge of the Cultural Relationships Free Bread and
+Blankets Foundation, aren't you? What good can your bunch do when
+the shooting starts?"
+
+"None. But maybe we can put off the shooting. If you are trying to
+insult me--don't bother. My irritation quotient is very high."
+
+The driver merely grunted at this, slowing down as they ran through
+a field of broken rock. "What is it you want?" he asked.
+
+"We want to make a detailed examination of one of the magter. Alive
+or dead, it doesn't make any difference. You wouldn't happen to have
+one around?"
+
+"No. We've fought with them often enough, but always on their home
+grounds. They keep all their casualties, and a good number of ours.
+What good will it do you anyway? A dead one won't tell you where the
+bombs or the jump-space projector is."
+
+"I don't see why I should explain that to you--unless you are in
+charge. You are Hys, aren't you?"
+
+The driver gave an angry sound, and then was silent while he drove.
+Finally he asked, "What makes you think that?"
+
+"Call it a hunch. You don't act very much like a sand-car driver,
+for one thing. Of course your army may be all generals and no
+privates--but I doubt it. I also know that time has almost run out
+for all of us. This is a long ride and it would be a complete waste
+of time if you just sat out in the desert and waited for me. By
+driving me yourself you could make your mind up before we arrived.
+Could have a decision ready as to whether you are going to help me
+or not. Are you?"
+
+"Yes--I'm Hys. But you still haven't answered my question. What do
+you want the body for?"
+
+"We're going to cut it open and take a good long look. I don't think
+the magter are human. They are something living among men and
+disguised as men--but still not human."
+
+"Secret aliens?" Hys exploded the words in a mixture of surprise
+and disgust.
+
+"Perhaps. The examination will tell us that."
+
+"You're either stupid or incompetent," Hys said bitterly. "The heat
+of Dis has cooked your brains in your head. I'll be no part of this
+kind of absurd plan."
+
+"You must," Brion said, surprised at his own calmness. He could
+sense the other man's interest hidden behind his insulting manner.
+"I don't even have to give you my reasons. In another day this world
+ends and you have no way to stop it. I just might have an idea that
+could work, and you can't afford to take any chances--not if you are
+really sincere. Either you are a murderer, killing Disans for
+pleasure, or you honestly want to stop the war. Which is it?"
+
+"You'll have your body all right," Hys grated, hurling the car
+viciously around a spire of rock. "Not that it will accomplish
+anything--but I can find no fault with killing another magter. We
+can fit your operation into our plans without any trouble. This is
+the last night and I have sent every one of my teams out on raids.
+We're breaking into as many magter towers as possible before dawn.
+There is a slim chance that we might uncover something. It's really
+just shooting in the dark, but it's all we can do now. My own team
+is waiting and you can ride along with us. The others left earlier.
+We're going to hit a small tower on this side of the city. We raided
+it once before and captured a lot of small arms they had stored
+there. There is a good chance that they may have been stupid enough
+to store something there again. Sometimes the magter seem to suffer
+from a complete lack of imagination."
+
+"You have no idea just how right you are," Brion told him.
+
+The sand car slowed down now, as they approached a slab-sided mesa
+that rose vertically from the desert. They crunched across broken
+rocks, leaving no tracks. A light blinked on the dashboard, and Hys
+stopped instantly and killed the engine. They climbed out,
+stretching and shivering in the cold desert night.
+
+It was dark walking in the shadow of the cliff and they had to feel
+their way along a path through the tumbled boulders. A sudden blaze
+of light made Brion wince and shield his eyes. Near him, on the
+ground, was the humming shape of a cancellation projector, sending
+out a fan-shaped curtain of vibration that absorbed all the light
+rays falling upon it. This incredible blackness made a lightproof
+wall for the recessed hollow at the foot of the cliff. In this
+shelter, under the overhang of rock, were three open sand cars. They
+were large and armor-plated, warlike in their scarred grey paint.
+Men sprawled, talked, and polished their weapons. Everything stopped
+when Hys and Brion appeared.
+
+"Load up," Hys called out. "We're going to attack now, same plan I
+outlined earlier. Get Telt over here." In talking to his own men
+some of the harshness was gone from his voice. The tall soldiers of
+Nyjord moved in ready obeyance of their commander. They loomed over
+his bent figure, most of them twice as tall as he, but there was no
+hesitation in jumping when he commanded. They were the body of the
+Nyjord striking force--he was the brains.
+
+A square-cut, compact man rolled up to Hys and saluted with a
+leisurely flick of his hand. He was weighted and slung about with
+packs and electronic instruments. His pockets bulged with small
+tools and spare parts.
+
+"This is Telt," Hys said to Brion. "He'll take care of you. Telt's
+my personal technical squad. He goes along on all my operations with
+his meters to test the interiors of the Disan forts. So far he's
+found no trace of a jump-space generator, or excess radioactivity
+that might indicate a bomb. Since he's useless and you're useless,
+you both take care of each other. Use the car we came in."
+
+Telt's wide face split in a froglike grin; his voice was hoarse and
+throaty. "Wait. Just wait! Someday those needles gonna flicker and
+all our troubles be over. What you want me to do with the stranger?"
+
+"Supply him with a corpse--one of the magter," Hys said. "Take it
+wherever he wants and then report back here." Hys scowled at Telt.
+"Someday your needles will flicker! Poor fool--this is the last
+day." He turned away and waved the men into their sand cars.
+
+"He likes me," Telt said, attaching a final piece of equipment.
+"You can tell because he calls me names like that. He's a great man,
+Hys is, but they never found out until it was too late. Hand me that
+meter, will you?"
+
+Brion followed the technician out to the car and helped him load his
+equipment aboard. When the larger cars appeared out of the darkness,
+Telt swung around after them. They snaked forward in a single line
+through the rocks, until they came to the desert of rolling sand
+dunes. Then they spread out in line abreast and rushed towards their
+goal.
+
+Telt hummed to himself hoarsely as he drove. He broke off suddenly
+and looked at Brion. "What you want the dead Dis for?"
+
+"A theory," Brion answered sluggishly. He had been half napping in
+the chair, taking the opportunity for some rest before the attack.
+"I'm still looking for a way to avert the end."
+
+"You and Hys," Telt said with satisfaction. "Couple of idealists.
+Trying to stop a war you didn't start. They never would listen to
+Hys. He told them in the beginning exactly what would happen, and
+he was right. They always thought his ideas were crooked, like him.
+Growing up alone in the hill camp, with his back too twisted and too
+old to be fixed when he finally did come out. Ideas twisted the same
+way. Made himself an authority on war. Hah! War on Nyjord--that's
+like being an ice-cube specialist in hell. But he knew all about it,
+though they never would let him use what he knew. Put granddaddy
+Krafft in charge instead."
+
+"But Hys is in charge of an army now?"
+
+"All volunteers, too few of them and too little money. Too little
+and too damned late to do any good. I'll tell you we did our best,
+but it could never be good enough. And for this we get called
+butchers." There was a catch in Telt's voice now, an undercurrent of
+emotion he couldn't suppress. "At home they think we like to kill.
+Think we're insane. They can't understand we're doing the only thing
+that has to be done--"
+
+He broke off as he quickly locked on the brakes and killed the
+engine. The line of sand cars had come to a stop. Ahead, just
+visible over the dunes, was the summit of a dark tower.
+
+"We walk from here," Telt said, standing and stretching. "We can
+take our time, because the other boys go in first, soften things up.
+Then you and I head for the sub-cellar for a radiation check and
+find you a handsome corpse."
+
+Walking at first, then crawling when the dunes no longer shielded
+them, they crept up on the Disan keep. Dark figures moved ahead of
+them, stopping only when they reached the crumbling black walls.
+They didn't use the ascending ramp, but made their way up the sheer
+outside face of the ramparts.
+
+"Line-throwers," Telt whispered. "Anchor themselves when the missile
+hits, have some kind of quick-setting goo. Then we go up the
+filament with a line-climbing motor. Hys invented them."
+
+"Is that the way you and I are going in?" Brion asked.
+
+"No, we get out of the climbing. I told you we hit this rock once
+before. I know the layout inside." He was moving while he talked,
+carefully pacing the distance around the base of the tower. "Should
+be right about here."
+
+High-pitched keening sliced the air and the top of the magter
+building burst into flame. Automatic weapons hammered above them.
+Something fell silently through the night and hit heavily on the
+ground near them.
+
+"Attack's started," Telt shouted. "We have to get through now,
+while all the creepies are fighting it out on top." He pulled
+a plate-shaped object from one of his bags and slapped it hard
+against the wall. It hung there. He twisted the back of it, pulled
+something and waved Brion to the ground. "Shaped charge. Should blow
+straight in, but you never can tell."
+
+The ground jumped under them and the ringing thud was a giant fist
+punching through the wall. A cloud of dust and smoke rolled clear
+and they could see the dark opening in the rock, a tunnel driven
+into the wall by the directional force of the explosion. Telt shone
+a light through the hole at the crumbled chamber inside.
+
+"Nothing to worry about from anybody who was leaning against this
+wall. But let's get in and out of this black beehive before the ones
+upstairs come down to investigate."
+
+Shattered rock was thick on the floor, and they skidded and tumbled
+over it. Telt pointed the way with his light, down a sharply angled
+ramp. "Underground chambers in the rock. They always store their
+stuff down there--"
+
+A smoking, black sphere arced out of the tunnel's mouth, hitting at
+their feet. Telt just gaped, but even as it hit the floor Brion was
+jumping forward. He caught it with the side of his foot, kicking it
+back into the dark opening of the tunnel. Telt hit the ground next
+to him as the orange flame of an explosion burst below. Bits of
+shrapnel rattled from the ceiling and wall behind them.
+
+"Grenades!" Telt gasped. "They've only used them once before--can't
+have many. Gotta warn Hys." He plugged a throat mike into the
+transmitter on his tack and spoke quickly into it. There was a
+stirring below and Brion poured a rain of fire into the tunnel.
+
+"They're catching it bad on top, too! We gotta pull out. Go first
+and I'll cover you."
+
+"I came for my Disan--I'm not leaving until I get one."
+
+"You're crazy! You're dead if you stay!"
+
+Telt was scrambling back towards the crumbled entrance as he talked.
+His back was turned when Brion fired. The magter had appeared
+silently as the shadow of death. They charged without a sound,
+running with expressionless faces into the bullets. Two died at
+once, curling and folding; the third one fell at Brion's feet. Shot,
+pierced, dying, but not yet dead. Leaving a crimson track, it
+hunched closer, lifting its knife to Brion. He didn't move. How many
+times must you murder a man? Or was it a man? His mind and body
+rebelled against the killing, and he was almost ready to accept
+death himself, rather than kill again.
+
+Telt's bullets tore through the body and it dropped with grim finality.
+
+"There's your corpse--now get it out of here!" Telt screeched.
+
+Between them they worked the sodden weight of the dead magter
+through the hole, their exposed backs crawling with the expectation
+of instant death. No further attack came as they ran from the tower,
+other than a grenade that exploded too far behind them to do any
+harm.
+
+One of the armored sand cars circled the keep, headlights blazing,
+keeping up a steady fire from its heavy weapons. The attackers
+climbed into it as they beat a retreat. Telt and Brion dragged
+the Disan behind them, struggling through the loose sand towards
+the circling car. Telt glanced over his shoulder and broke into
+a shambling run.
+
+"They're following us!" he gasped. "The first time they ever chased
+us after a raid!"
+
+"They must know we have the body," Brion said.
+
+"Leave it behind ..." Telt choked. "Too heavy to carry ... anyway!"
+
+"I'd rather leave you," Brion said sharply. "Let me have it." He
+pulled the corpse away from the unresisting Telt and heaved it
+across his own shoulders. "Now use your gun to cover us!"
+
+Telt threw a rain of slugs back towards the dark figures following
+them. The driver of the sand car must have seen the flare of their
+fire, because the truck turned and started towards them. It braked
+in a choking cloud of dust and ready hands reached to pull them up.
+Brion pushed the body in ahead of himself and scrambled after it.
+The truck engine throbbed and they churned away into the blackness,
+away from the gutted tower.
+
+"You know, that was more like kind of a joke, when I said I'd leave
+the corpse behind," Telt told Brion. "You didn't believe me, did
+you?"
+
+"Yes," Brion said, holding the dead weight of the magter against
+the truck's side. "I thought you meant it."
+
+"Ahhh," Telt protested, "you're as bad as Hys. You take things
+too seriously."
+
+Brion suddenly realized that he was wet with blood, his clothing
+sodden. His stomach rose at the thought and he clutched the edge of
+the sand car. Killing like this was too personal. Talking
+abstractedly about a body was one thing, but murdering a man, then
+lifting his dead flesh and feeling his blood warm upon you is an
+entirely different matter. But the magter weren't human, he knew
+that. The thought was only mildly comforting.
+
+After they had reached the other waiting sand cars, the raiding
+party split up. "Each one goes in a different direction," Telt said,
+"so they can't track us to the base." He clipped a piece of paper
+next to the compass and kicked the motor into life. "We'll make a
+big U in the desert and end up in Hovedstad. I got the course here.
+Then I'll dump you and your friends and beat it back to our camp.
+You're not still burned at me for what I said, are you? Are you?"
+
+Brion didn't answer. He was staring fixedly out of the side window.
+
+"What's doing?" Telt asked. Brion pointed out at the rushing darkness.
+
+"Over there," he said, pointing to the growing light on the horizon.
+
+"Dawn," Telt said. "Lotta rain on your planet? Didn't you ever see
+the sun come up before?"
+
+"Not on the last day of a world."
+
+"Lock it up," Telt grumbled. "You give me the crawls. I know they're
+going to be blasted. But at least I know I did everything I could to
+stop it. How do you think they are going to be feeling at home--on
+Nyjord--from tomorrow on?"
+
+"Maybe we can still stop it," Brion said, shrugging off the feeling
+of gloom. Telt's only answer was a wordless sound of disgust.
+
+By the time they had cut a large loop in the desert the sun was well
+up in the sky, the daily heat begun. Their course took them through
+a chain of low, flinty hills that cut their speed almost to zero.
+They ground ahead in low gear while Telt sweated and cursed,
+struggling with the controls. Then they were on firm sand and
+picking up speed towards the city.
+
+As soon as Brion saw Hovedstad clearly he felt a clutch of fear.
+From somewhere in the city a black plume of smoke was rising. It
+could have been one of the deserted buildings aflame, a minor blaze.
+Yet the closer they came, the greater his tension grew. Brion didn't
+dare put it into words himself; it was Telt who vocalized the
+thought.
+
+"A fire or something. Coming from your area, somewhere close to
+your building."
+
+Within the city they saw the first signs of destruction. Broken
+rubble on the streets. The smell of greasy smoke in their nostrils.
+More and more people appeared, going in the same direction they
+were. The normally deserted streets of Hovedstad were now almost
+crowded. Disans, obvious by their bare shoulders, mixed with the
+few offworlders who still remained.
+
+Brion made sure the tarpaulin was well wrapped around the body
+before they pushed the sand car slowly through the growing crowd.
+
+"I don't like all this publicity," Telt complained, looking at the
+people. "It's the last day, or I'd be turning back. They know our
+cars; we've raided them often enough." Turning a corner, he braked
+suddenly, mouth agape.
+
+Ahead was destruction. Black, broken rubble had been churned into
+desolation. It was still smoking, pink tongues of flame licking over
+the ruins. A fragment of wall fell with a rumbling crash.
+
+"It's your building--the Foundation building!" Telt shouted.
+"They've been here ahead of us--must have used the radio to call
+a raid. They did a job, explosive of some kind."
+
+Hope was dead. Dis was dead. In the ruin ahead, mixed and broken
+with other rubble, were the bodies of all the people who had trusted
+him. Lea ... beautiful and cruelly dead Lea. Doctor Stine, his
+patients, Faussel, all of them. He had kept them on this planet,
+and now they were dead. Every one of them. Dead.
+
+Murderer!
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+Life was ended. Brion's mind contained nothing but despair and the
+pain of irretrievable loss. If his brain had been completely the
+master of his body he would have died there, for at that moment
+there was no will to live. Unaware of this, his heart continued to
+beat and the regular motion of his lungs drew in the dreadful
+sweetness of the smoke-tainted air. With automatic directness
+his body lived on.
+
+"What you gonna do?" Telt asked, even his natural exuberation
+stilled by this. Brion only shook his head as the words penetrated.
+What could he do? What could possibly be done?
+
+"Follow me," a voice said in guttural Disan through the opening of
+a rear window. The speaker was lost in the crowd before they could
+turn. Aware now, Brion saw a native move away from the edge of the
+crowd and turn to look in their direction. It was Ulv.
+
+"Turn the car--that way!" He punched Telt's arm and pointed. "Do it
+slowly and don't draw any attention to us." For a moment there was
+hope, which he kept himself from considering. The building was gone,
+and the people in it all dead. That fact had to be faced.
+
+"What's going on?" Telt asked. "Who was that talked in the window?"
+
+"A native--that one up ahead. He saved my life in the desert, and
+I think he is on our side. Even though he's a native Disan, he can
+understand facts that the magter can't. He knows what will happen
+to this planet." Brion was talking to fill his brain with words so
+he wouldn't begin to have hope. There was no hope possible.
+
+Ulv moved slowly and naturally through the streets, never looking
+back. They followed, as far behind as they dared, yet still keeping
+him in sight. Fewer people were about here among the deserted
+offworld storehouses. Ulv vanished into one of these; LIGHT METALS
+TRUST LTD., the sign read above the door. Telt slowed the car.
+
+"Don't stop here," Brion said. "Drive around the corner, and pull up."
+
+Brion climbed out of the car with an ease he did not feel. No one
+was in sight now, in either direction. Walking slowly back to the
+corner, he checked the street they had just left. Hot, silent and
+empty.
+
+A sudden blackness appeared where the door of the warehouse had
+been, and the sudden flickering motion of a hand. Brion signaled
+Telt to start, and jumped into the already moving sand car.
+
+"Into that open door--quickly, before anyone sees us!" The car
+rumbled down a ramp into the dark interior and the door slid shut
+behind them.
+
+"Ulv! What is it? Where are you?" Brion called, blinking in the
+murky interior. A grey form appeared beside him.
+
+"I am here."
+
+"Did you--" There was no way to finish the sentence.
+
+"I heard of the raid. The magter called together all of us they
+could to help them carry explosive. I went along. I could not stop
+them, and there was no time to warn anyone in the building."
+
+"Then they are all dead?"
+
+"Yes," Ulv nodded. "All except one. I knew I could perhaps save one;
+I was not sure who. So I took the woman you were with in the
+desert--she is here now. She was hurt, but not badly, when I brought
+her out."
+
+Guilty relief flooded through Brion. He shouldn't exult, not with
+the death of everyone in the Foundation still fresh in his mind.
+But at that instant he was happy.
+
+"Let me see her," he said to Ulv. He was seized by the sudden fear
+that there might be a mistake. Perhaps Ulv had saved a different
+woman.
+
+Ulv led the way across the empty loading bay. Brion followed
+closely, fighting down the temptation to tell him to hurry. When he
+saw that Ulv was heading towards an office in the far wall, he could
+control himself no longer and ran on ahead.
+
+It was Lea, lying unconscious on a couch. Sweat beaded her face and
+she moaned and stirred without opening her eyes.
+
+"I gave her _sover_, then wrapped her in cloth so no one would
+know," Ulv said.
+
+Telt was close behind them, looking in through the open door.
+
+"_Sover_ is a drug they take from one of their plants," he said.
+"We got a lot of experience with it. A little makes a good knock-out
+drug, but it's deadly poison in large doses. I got the antidote in
+the car; wait and I'll get it." He went out.
+
+Brion sat next to Lea and wiped her face clean of dirt and
+perspiration. The dark shadows under her eyes were almost black now
+and her elfin face seemed even thinner. But she was alive--that was
+the important thing.
+
+Some of the tension drained away from Brion and he could think
+again. There was still the job to do. After this last experience Lea
+should be in a hospital bed. But this was impossible. He would have
+to drag her to her feet and put her back to work. The answer might
+still be found. Each second ticked away another fraction of the
+planet's life.
+
+"Good as new in a minute," Telt said, banging down the heavy med
+box. He watched intently as Ulv left the room. "Hys should
+know about this renegade. Might be useful as a spy, or for
+information--though of course it's too late now to do anything, so
+the hell with it." He pulled a pistol-shaped hypodermic gun from the
+box and dialed a number on the side. "Now, if you'll roll her sleeve
+up I'll bring her back to life." He pressed the bell-shaped
+sterilizing muzzle against her skin and pulled the trigger. The hypo
+gun hummed briefly, ending its cycle with a loud click.
+
+"Does it work fast?" Brion asked.
+
+"Couple of minutes. Just let her be and she'll come to by herself."
+
+Ulv was in the doorway. "Killer!" he hissed. His blowgun was in his
+hand, half raised to his mouth.
+
+"He's been in the car--he's seen it!" Telt shouted and grabbed for
+his gun.
+
+Brion sprang between them, raising his hands. "Stop it! No more
+killing!" he shouted in Disan. Then he shook his fist at Telt.
+"Fire that gun and I'll stuff it down your throat. I'll handle this."
+He turned to face Ulv, who hadn't brought the blowgun any closer to
+his lips. This was a good sign--the Disan was still uncertain.
+
+"You have seen the body in the car, Ulv. So you must have seen that
+it is that of a magter. I killed him myself, because I would rather
+kill one, or ten, or even a hundred men than have everyone on this
+planet destroyed. I killed him in a fair fight and now I am going
+to examine his body. There is something very strange and different
+about the magter, you know that yourself. If I can find out what it
+is, perhaps we can make them stop this war, and not bomb Nyjord."
+
+Ulv was still angry, but he lowered the blowgun a little. "I wish
+there were no offworlders," he said. "I wish that none of you had
+ever come. Nothing was wrong until you started coming. The magter
+were the strongest, and they killed; but they also helped. Now they
+want to fight a war with your weapons, and for this you are going to
+kill my world. And you want me to help you!"
+
+"Not me--yourself!" Brion said wearily. "There's no going back,
+that's the one thing we can't do. Maybe Dis would have been better
+off without offplanet contact. Maybe not. In any case, you have to
+forget about that. You have contact now with the rest of the galaxy,
+for better or for worse. You've got a problem to solve, and I'm here
+to help you solve it."
+
+Seconds ticked by as Ulv, unmoving, fought with questions that were
+novel to his life. Could killing stop death? Could he help his
+people by helping strangers to fight and kill them? His world had
+changed and he didn't like it. He must make a giant effort to change
+with it.
+
+Abruptly, he pushed the blowgun into a thong at his waist, turned
+and strode out.
+
+"Too much for my nerves," Telt said, settling his gun back in the
+holster. "You don't know how happy I'm gonna be when this whole damn
+thing is over. Even if the planet goes bang, I don't care. I'm
+finished." He walked out to the sand car, keeping a careful eye
+on the Disan crouched against the wall.
+
+Brion turned back to Lea, whose eyes were open, staring at the
+ceiling. He went to her.
+
+"Running," she said, and her voice had a toneless emptiness that
+screamed louder than any emotion. "They ran by the open door of my
+room and I could see them when they killed Dr. Stine. Just butchered
+him like an animal, chopping him down. Then one came into the room
+and that's all I remember." She turned her head slowly and looked at
+Brion. "What happened? Why am I here?"
+
+"They're ... dead," he told her. "All of them. After the raid the
+Disans blew up the building. You're the only one that survived.
+That was Ulv who came into your room, the Disan we met in the desert.
+He brought you away and hid you here in the city."
+
+"When do we leave?" she asked in the same empty tones, turning
+her face to the wall. "When do we get off this planet?"
+
+"Today is the last day. The deadline is midnight. Krafft will have
+a ship pick us up when we are ready. But we still have our job to do.
+I've got that body. You're going to have to examine it. We must
+find out about the magter...."
+
+"Nothing can be done now except leave." Her voice was a dull
+monotone. "There is only so much that a person can do, and I've done
+it. Please have the ship come; I want to leave now."
+
+Brion bit his lip in helpless frustration. Nothing seemed to
+penetrate the apathy into which she had sunk. Too much shock, too
+much terror, in too short a time. He took her chin in his hand and
+turned her head to face him. She didn't resist, but her eyes were
+shining with tears; tears trickled down her cheeks.
+
+"Take me home, Brion, please take me home."
+
+He could only brush her sodden hair back from her face, and force
+himself to smile at her. The moments of time were running out,
+faster and faster, and he no longer knew what to do. The examination
+had to be made--yet he couldn't force her. He looked for the med box
+and saw that Telt had taken it back to the sand car. There might be
+something in it that could help--a tranquilizer perhaps.
+
+Telt had some of his instruments open on the chart table and was
+examining a tape with a pocket magnifier when Brion entered. He
+jumped nervously and put the tape behind his back, then relaxed when
+he saw who it was.
+
+"I thought you were the creepie out there, coming for a look," he
+whispered. "Maybe you trust him--but I can't afford to. Can't even
+use the radio. I'm getting out of here now. I have to tell Hys!"
+
+"Tell him what?" Brion asked sharply. "What is all the mystery
+about?"
+
+Telt handed him the magnifier and tape. "Look at that--recording
+tape from my scintillation counter. Red verticals are five-minute
+intervals, the wiggly black horizontal line is the radioactivity
+level. All this where the line goes up and down, that's when we were
+driving out to the attack. Varying hot level of the rock and
+ground."
+
+"What's the big peak in the middle?"
+
+"That coincides exactly with our visit to the house of horrors!
+When we went through the hole in the bottom of the tower!" He
+couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice.
+
+"Does it mean that...."
+
+"I don't know. I'm not sure. I have to compare it with the other
+tapes back at base. It could be the stone of the tower--some of
+these heavy rocks have got a high natural count. There maybe could
+be a box of instruments there with fluorescent dials. Or it might be
+one of those tactical atom bombs they threw at us already. Some arms
+runner sold them a few."
+
+"Or it could be the cobalt bombs?"
+
+"It could be," Telt said, packing his instruments swiftly. "A badly
+shielded bomb, or an old one with a crack in the skin, could give
+a trace like that. Just a little radon leaking out would do it."
+
+"Why don't you call Hys on the radio and let him know?"
+
+"I don't want Granddaddy Krafft's listening posts to hear about it.
+This is our job--if I'm right. And I have to check my old tapes to
+make sure. But it's gonna be worth a raid, I can feel that in my
+bones. Let's unload your corpse." He helped Brion with the clumsy,
+wrapped bundle, then slipped into the driver's seat.
+
+"Hold it," Brion said. "Do you have anything in the med box I can
+use for Lea? She seems to have cracked. Not hysterical, but
+withdrawn. Won't listen to reason, won't do anything but lie there
+and ask to go home."
+
+"Got the potion here," Telt said, cracking the med box.
+"Slaughter-syndrome is what our medic calls it. Hit a lot of our
+boys. Grow up all your life hating the idea of violence, and it goes
+rough when you have to start killing people. Guys break up, break
+down, go to pieces lots of different ways. The medic mixed up this
+stuff. Don't know how it works, probably tranquilizers and some of
+the cortex drugs. But it peels off recent memories. Maybe for the
+last ten, twelve hours. You can't get upset about what you don't
+remember." He pulled out a sealed package. "Directions on the box.
+Good luck."
+
+"Luck," Brion said, and shook the technician's calloused hand.
+"Let me know if the traces are strong enough to be bombs." He checked
+the street to make sure it was clear, then pressed the door button.
+The sand car churned out into the brilliant sunshine and was gone,
+the throb of its motor dying in the distance. Brion closed the door
+and went back to Lea. Ulv was still crouched against the wall.
+
+There was a one-shot disposable hypodermic in the box. Lea made
+no protest when he broke the seal and pressed the needle against
+her arm. She sighed and her eyes closed again.
+
+When he saw she was resting easily, he dragged in the
+tarpaulin-wrapped body of the magter. A work-bench ran along one
+wall and he struggled the corpse up onto it. He unwrapped the
+tarpaulin and the sightless eyes stared accusingly up into his.
+
+Using his knife, Brion cut away the loose, blood-soaked clothing.
+Strapped under the clothes, around the man's waist, was the familiar
+collection of Disan artifacts. This could have significance either
+way. Human or humanoid, the creature would still have to live on
+Dis. Brion threw it aside, along with the clothing. Nude, pierced,
+bloody, the corpse lay before him.
+
+In every external physical detail the man was human.
+
+Brion's theory was becoming more preposterous with each discovery.
+If the magter weren't alien, how could he explain their complete lack
+of emotions? A mutation of some kind? He didn't see how it was
+possible. There _had_ to be something alien about the dead man
+before him. The future of a world rested on this flimsy hope. If
+Telt's lead to the bombs proved to be false, there would be no hope
+left at all.
+
+Lea was still unconscious when he looked at her again. There was no
+way of telling how long the coma would last. He would probably have
+to waken her out of it, but he didn't want to do it too early. It
+took an effort to control his impatience, even though he knew the
+drug needed time in which to work. He finally decided on at least a
+minimum of an hour before he should try to disturb her. That would
+be noon--twelve hours before destruction.
+
+One thing he should do was to get in touch with Professor-Commander
+Krafft. Maybe it was being defeatist, but he had to make sure that
+they had a way off this planet if the mission failed. Krafft had
+installed a relay radio that would forward calls from his personal
+set. If this relay had been in the Foundation building, contact was
+broken. This had to be found out before it was too late. Brion
+thumbed on his radio and sent the call. The reply came back
+instantly.
+
+"This is fleet communications. Will you please keep this circuit
+open? Commander Krafft is waiting for this call and it is being put
+directly through to him now." Krafft's voice broke in while the
+operator was still talking.
+
+"Who is making this call--is it anyone from the Foundation?"
+The old man's voice was shaky with emotion.
+
+"Brandd here. I have Lea Morees with me...."
+
+"No more? Are there no other survivors from the disaster that
+destroyed your building?"
+
+"That's it, other than us it's a ... complete loss. With the
+building and all the instruments gone, I have no way to contact our
+ship in orbit. Can you arrange to get us out of here if necessary?"
+
+"Give me your location. A ship is coming now--"
+
+"I don't need a ship now," Brion interrupted. "Don't send it until
+I call. If there is a way to stop your destruction I'll find it.
+So I'm staying--to the last minute if necessary."
+
+Krafft was silent. There was only the crackle of an open mike and
+the sound of breathing. "That is your decision," he said finally.
+"I'll have a ship standing by. But won't you let us take Miss Morees
+out now?"
+
+"No. I need her here. We are still working, looking for--"
+
+"What answer can you find that could possibly avert destruction
+now?" His tone was between hope and despair. Brion couldn't help
+him.
+
+"If I succeed--you'll know. Otherwise, that will be the end of it.
+End of Transmission." He switched the radio off.
+
+Lea was sleeping easily when he looked at her, and there was still
+a good part of the hour left before he could wake her. How could
+he put it to use? She would need tools, instruments to examine the
+corpse, and there were certainly none here. Perhaps he could find
+some in the ruins of the Foundation building. With this thought
+he had the sudden desire to see the wreckage up close. There might
+be other survivors. He had to find out. If he could talk to the men
+he had seen working there....
+
+Ulv was still crouched against the wall in the outer room.
+He looked up angrily when Brion came over, but said nothing.
+
+"Will you help me again?" Brion asked. "Stay and watch the girl
+while I go out. I'll be back at noon." Ulv didn't answer. "I am
+still looking for the way to save Dis," Brion added.
+
+"Go--I'll watch the girl!" Ulv spat words in impotent fury. "I do
+not know what to do. You may be right. Go. She will be safe with me."
+
+Brion slipped out into the deserted street and, half running, half
+walking, made his way towards the rubble that had been the Cultural
+Relationships Foundation. He used a different course from the one
+they had come by, striking first towards the outer edge of the city.
+Once there, he could swing and approach from the other side, so
+there would be no indication where he had come from. The magter
+might be watching and he didn't want to lead them to Lea and the
+stolen body.
+
+Turning a corner, he saw a sand car stopped in the street ahead.
+There was something familiar about the lines of it. It could be the
+one he and Telt had used, but he wasn't sure. He looked around, but
+the dusty, packed-dirt street was white and empty, shimmering in
+silence under the sun. Staying close to the wall and watching
+carefully, Brion slipped towards the car. When he came close behind
+it he was positive it was the one he had been in the night before.
+What was it doing here?
+
+Silence and heat filled the street. Windows and doors were empty,
+and there was no motion in their shadows. Putting his foot on a
+bogey wheel, he reached up and grabbed the searing metal rim of the
+open window. He pulled himself up and stared at Telt's smiling face.
+
+Smiling in death. The lips pulled back to reveal the grinning teeth,
+the eyes bursting from the head, the features swollen and contorted
+from the deadly poison. A tiny, tufted dart of wood stuck in the
+brown flesh on the side of his neck.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+Brion hurled himself backward and sprawled flat in the dust and
+filth of the road. No poison dart sought him out; the empty silence
+still reigned. Telt's murderers had come and gone. Moving quickly,
+using the bulk of the car as a shield, he opened the door and
+slipped inside.
+
+They had done a thorough job of destruction. All of the controls had
+been battered into uselessness, the floor was a junk heap of crushed
+equipment, intertwined with loops of recording tape bulging like
+mechanical intestines. A gutted machine, destroyed like its driver.
+
+It was easy enough to reconstruct what had happened. The car had
+been seen when they entered the city--probably by some of the magter
+who had destroyed the Foundation building. They had not seen where
+it had gone, or Brion would surely be dead by now. But they must
+have spotted it when Telt tried to leave the city--and stopped it in
+the most effective way possible, a dart through the open window into
+the unsuspecting driver's neck.
+
+Telt dead! The brutal impact of the man's death had driven all
+thought of its consequences from Brion's mind. Now he began to
+realize. Telt had never sent word of his discovery of the
+radioactive trace to the Nyjord army. He had been afraid to use
+the radio, and had wanted to tell Hys in person, and to show him
+the tape. Only now the tape was torn and mixed with all the others,
+the brain that could have analyzed it dead.
+
+Brion looked at the dangling entrails of the radio and spun for the
+door. Running swiftly and erratically, he fled from the sand car.
+His own survival and the possible survival of Dis depended on his
+not being seen near it. He must contact Hys and pass on the
+information. Until he did that, he was the only offworlder on Dis
+who knew which magter tower might contain the world-destroying
+bombs.
+
+Once out of sight of the sand car he went more slowly, wiping the
+sweat from his streaming face. He hadn't been seen leaving the car,
+and he wasn't being followed. The streets here weren't familiar, but
+he checked his direction by the sun and walked at a steady fast pace
+towards the destroyed building. More of the native Disans were in
+the streets now. They all noticed him, some even stopped and scowled
+fiercely at him. With his emphatic awareness he felt their anger and
+hatred. A knot of men radiated death, and he put his hand on his gun
+as he passed them. Two of them had their blowguns ready, but didn't
+use them. By the time he had turned the next corner he was soaked
+with nervous perspiration.
+
+Ahead was the rubble of the destroyed building. Grounded next to it
+was the tapered form of a spacer's pinnace. Two men had come from
+the open lock and were standing at the edge of the burnt area.
+
+Brion's boots grated loudly on the broken wreckage. The men turned
+quickly towards him, guns raised. Both of them carried ion rifles.
+They relaxed when they saw his offworld clothes.
+
+"Bloody damned savages!" one of them growled. He was a heavy-planet
+man, a squashed-down column of muscle and gristle, whose head barely
+reached Brion's chest. A pushed-back cap had the crossed slide-rule
+symbol of ship's computer man.
+
+"Can't blame them, I guess," the second man said. He wore purser's
+insignia. His features were different, but with the same compacted
+body the two men were as physically alike as twins. Probably from
+the same home planet. "They're gonna get their whole world blown out
+from under them at midnight. Looks as if the poor slob in the
+streets finally realized what is happening. Hope we're in jump-space
+by then. I saw Estrada's World get it, and I don't want to see that
+again, not twice in one lifetime!"
+
+The computer man was looking closely at Brion, head tilted sideways
+to see his face. "You need transportation offworld?" he asked.
+"We're the last ship at the port, and we're going to boil out of
+here as soon as the rest of our cargo is aboard. We'll give you
+a lift if you need it."
+
+Only by a tremendous effort at control did Brion conceal the
+destroying sorrow that overwhelmed him when he looked at that
+shattered wasteland, the graveyard of so many. "No," he said.
+"That won't be necessary. I'm in touch with the blockading fleet
+and they'll pick me up before midnight."
+
+"You from Nyjord?" the purser growled.
+
+"No," Brion said, still only half aware of the men. "But there is
+trouble with my own ship." He realized that they were looking
+intently at him, that he owed them some kind of explanation.
+"I thought I could find a way to stop the war. Now ... I'm not so
+sure." He hadn't intended to be so frank with the spacemen, but the
+words had been uppermost in his thoughts and had simply slipped out.
+
+The computer man started to say something, but his shipmate speared
+him in the side with his elbow. "We blast soon--and I don't like the
+way these Disans are looking at us. The captain said to find out
+what caused the fire, then get the hell back. So let's go."
+
+"Don't miss your ship," the computer man said to Brion, and
+he started for the pinnace. Then he hesitated and turned. "Sure
+there's nothing we can do for you?"
+
+Sorrow would accomplish nothing. Brion fought to sweep the dregs
+of emotion from his mind and to think clearly. "You can help me,"
+he said. "I could use a scalpel or any other surgical instrument
+you might have." Lea would need those. Then he remembered Telt's
+undelivered message. "Do you have a portable radio transceiver?
+I can pay you for it."
+
+The computer man vanished inside the rocket and reappeared a minute
+later with a small package. "There's a scalpel and a magnetized
+tweezers in here--all I could find in the med kit. Hope they'll do."
+He reached inside and swung out the metal case of a self-contained
+transceiver. "Take this, it's got plenty of range, even on the
+longer frequencies."
+
+He raised his hand at Brion's offer to pay. "My donation," he said.
+"If you can save this planet I'll give you the whole pinnace as
+well. We'll tell the captain we lost the radio in some trouble with
+the natives. Isn't that right, Moneybags?" He prodded the purser
+in the chest with a finger that would have punched a hole through
+a weaker man.
+
+"I read you loud and clear," the purser said. "I'll make out an
+invoice so stating, back in the ship." They were both in the pinnace
+then, and Brion had to move fast to get clear of the takeoff blast.
+
+A sense of obligation--the spacemen had felt it too. The realization
+of this raised Brion's spirits a bit as he searched through the
+rubble for anything useful. He recognized part of a wall still
+standing as a corner of the laboratory. Poking through the ruins, he
+unearthed broken instruments and a single, battered case that had
+barely missed destruction. Inside was the binocular microscope, the
+right tube bent, its lenses cracked and obscured. The left eyepiece
+still seemed to be functioning. Brion carefully put it back in the
+case.
+
+He looked at his watch. It was almost noon. These few pieces of
+equipment would have to do for the dissection. Watched suspiciously
+by the onlooking Disans, he started back to the warehouse. It was a
+long, circuitous walk, since he didn't dare give any clues to his
+destination. Only when he was positive he had not been observed or
+followed did he slip through the building's entrance, locking the
+door behind him.
+
+Lea's frightened eyes met his when he went into the office. "A
+friendly smile here among the cannibals," she called. Her strained
+expression gave the lie to the cheeriness of her words. "What has
+happened? Since I woke up, the great stone face over there"--she
+pointed to Ulv--"has been telling me exactly nothing."
+
+"What's the last thing you can remember?" Brion asked carefully.
+He didn't want to tell her too much, lest this bring on the shock
+again. Ulv had shown great presence of mind in not talking to her.
+
+"If you must know," Lea said, "I remember quite a lot, Brion Brandd.
+I shan't go into details, since this sort of thing is best kept from
+the natives. For the record then, I can recall going to sleep after
+you left. And nothing since then. It's weird. I went to sleep in
+that lumpy hospital bed and woke up on this couch, feeling simply
+terrible. With _him_ just sitting there and scowling at me. Won't
+you please tell me what is going on?"
+
+A partial truth was best, saving all of the details that he could
+for later. "The magter attacked the Foundation building," he said.
+"They are getting angry at all offworlders now. You were still
+knocked out by a sleeping drug, so Ulv helped bring you here. It's
+afternoon now--"
+
+"Of the last day?" She sounded horrified. "While I'm playing
+Sleeping Beauty the world is coming to an end! Was anyone hurt
+in the attack? Or killed?"
+
+"There were a number of casualties--and plenty of trouble," Brion
+said. He had to get her off the subject. Walking over to the corpse,
+he threw back the cover from its face. "But this is more important
+right now. It's one of the magter. I have a scalpel and some other
+things here--will you perform an autopsy?"
+
+Lea huddled back on the couch, her arms around herself, looking
+chilled in spite of the heat of the day. "What happened to the
+people at the building?" she asked in a thin voice. The injection
+had removed her memories of the tragedy, but echoes of the strain
+and shock still reverberated in her mind and body. "I feel so ...
+exhausted. Please tell me what happened. I have the feeling you're
+hiding something."
+
+Brion sat next to her and took her hands in his, not surprised to
+find them cold. Looking into her eyes, he tried to give her some of
+his strength. "It wasn't very nice," he said. "You were shaken up by
+it, I imagine that's why you feel the way you do now. But--Lea,
+you'll have to take my word for this. Don't ask any more questions.
+There's nothing we can do now about it. But we can still find out
+about the magter. Will you examine the corpse?"
+
+She started to ask something, then changed her mind. When she
+dropped her eyes Brion felt the thin shiver that went through her
+body. "There's something terribly wrong," she said. "I know that.
+I guess I'll have to take your word that it's best not to ask
+questions. Help me up, will you, darling? My legs are absolutely
+liquid."
+
+Leaning on him, with his arm around her supporting most of her
+weight, she went slowly across to the corpse. She looked down and
+shuddered. "Not what you would call a natural death," she said.
+Ulv watched intently as she took the scalpel out of its holder.
+"You don't have to look at this," she told him in halting Disan.
+"Not if you don't want to."
+
+"I want to," he told her, not taking his eyes from the body.
+"I have never seen a magter dead before, or without covering,
+like an ordinary person." He continued to stare fixedly.
+
+"Find me some drinking water, will you, Brion?" Lea said. "And
+spread the tarp under the body. These things are quite messy."
+
+After drinking the water she seemed stronger, and could stand
+without holding onto the table with both hands. Placing the tip of
+the scalpel just below the magter's breast bone, she made the long
+post-mortem incision down to the pubic symphysis. The great,
+body-length wound gaped open like a red mouth. Across the table Ulv
+shuddered but didn't avert his eyes.
+
+One by one she removed the internal organs. Once she looked up at
+Brion, then quickly returned to work. The silence stretched on and
+on until Brion had to break it.
+
+"Tell me, can't you? Have you found out anything?"
+
+His words snapped the thin strand of her strength, and she staggered
+back to the couch and collapsed onto it. Her bloodstained hands hung
+over the side, making a strangely terrible contrast to the whiteness
+of her skin.
+
+"I'm sorry, Brion," she said. "But there's nothing, nothing at all.
+There are minor differences, organic changes I've never seen
+before--his liver is tremendous, for one thing. But changes like
+this are certainly consistent within the pattern of homo sapiens
+as adapted to a different planet. He's a man. Changed, adapted,
+modified--but still just as human as you or I."
+
+"How can you be sure?" Brion broke in. "You haven't examined him
+completely, have you?" She shook her head. "Then go on. The other
+organs. His brain. A microscopic examination. Here!" he said,
+pushing the microscope case towards her with both hands.
+
+She dropped her head onto her forearms and sobbed. "Leave me alone,
+can't you! I'm tired and sick and fed up with this awful planet. Let
+them die. I don't care! Your theory is false, useless. Admit that!
+And let me wash the filth from my hands...." Sobbing drowned out her
+words.
+
+Brion stood over her and drew a shuddering breath. Was he wrong? He
+didn't dare think about that. He had to go on. Looking down at the
+thinness of her bent back, with the tiny projections of her spine
+showing through the thin cloth, he felt an immense pity--a pity he
+couldn't surrender to. This thin, helpless, frightened woman was
+his only resource. She had to work. He had to _make_ her work.
+
+Ihjel had done it--used projective empathy to impress his emotions
+upon Brion. Now Brion must do it with Lea. He had had some sessions
+in the art, but not nearly enough to make him proficient.
+Nevertheless he had to try.
+
+Strength was what Lea needed. Aloud he said simply, "You can do it.
+You have the will and the strength to finish." And silently his mind
+cried out the order to obey, to share his power now that hers was
+drained and finished.
+
+Only when she lifted her face and he saw the dried tears did he
+realize that he had succeeded. "You will go on?" he asked quietly.
+
+Lea merely nodded and rose to her feet. She shuffled like a
+sleepwalker jerked along by invisible strings. Her strength wasn't
+her own, and the situation reminded him unhappily of that last event
+of the Twenties when he had experienced the same kind of draining
+activity. She wiped her hands roughly on her clothes and opened
+the microscope case.
+
+"The slides are all broken," she said.
+
+"This will do," Brion told her, crashing his heel through the glass
+partition. Shards tinkled and crashed to the floor. He took some of
+the bigger pieces and broke them to rough squares that would fit
+under the clips on the stage. Lea accepted them without a word.
+Putting a drop of the magter's blood on the slide, she bent over the
+eyepiece.
+
+Her hands shook when she tried to adjust the focusing. Using low
+power, she examined the specimen, squinting through the angled tube.
+Once she turned the sub-stage mirror a bit to catch the light
+streaming in the window. Brion stood behind her, fists clenched,
+forceably controlling his anxiety. "What do you see?" he finally
+blurted out.
+
+"Phagocytes, platelets ... leucocytes ... everything seems normal."
+Her voice was dull, exhausted, her eyes blinking with fatigue as
+she stared into the tube.
+
+Anger at defeat burned through Brion. Even faced with failure, he
+refused to accept it. He reached over her shoulder and savagely
+twisted the turret of microscope until the longest lens was in
+position. "If you can't see anything--try the high power! It's
+there--I know it's there! I'll get you a tissue specimen."
+He turned back to the disemboweled cadaver.
+
+His back was turned and he did not see that sudden stiffening of her
+shoulders, or the sudden eagerness that seized her fingers as they
+adjusted the focus. But he did feel the wave of emotion that welled
+from her, impinging directly on his empathetic sense. "What is it?"
+he called to her, as if she had spoken aloud.
+
+"Something ... something here," she said, "in this leucocyte. It's
+not normal structure, but it's familiar. I've seen something like it
+before, but I just can't remember." She turned away from the
+microscope and unthinkingly pressed her gory knuckles to her
+forehead. "I know I've seen it before."
+
+Brion squinted into the deserted microscope and made out a dim shape
+in the center of the field. It stood out sharply when he
+focused--the white, jellyfish shape of a single-celled leucocyte. To
+his untrained eye there was nothing unusual about it. He couldn't
+know what was strange, when he had no idea of what was normal.
+
+"Do you see those spherical green shapes grouped together?" Lea
+asked. Before Brion could answer she gasped, "I remember now!" Her
+fatigue was forgotten in her excitement. "_Icerya purchasi_, that
+was the name, something like that. It's a coccid, a little scale
+insect. It had those same shapes collected together within its
+individual cells."
+
+"What do they mean? What is the connection with Dis?"
+
+"I don't know," she said; "it's just that they look so similar. And
+I never saw anything like this in a human cell before. In the
+coccids, the green particles grow into a kind of yeast that lives
+within the insect. Not a parasite, but a real symbiote...."
+
+Her eyes opened wide as she caught the significance of her own
+words. A symbiote--and Dis was the world where symbiosis and
+parasitism had become more advanced and complex than on any other
+planet. Lea's thoughts spun around this fact and chewed at the
+fringes of the logic. Brion could sense her concentration and
+absorption. He did nothing to break the mood. Her hands were
+clenched, her eyes staring unseeingly at the wall as her mind raced.
+
+Brion and Ulv were quiet, watching her, waiting for her conclusions.
+The pieces were falling into shape at last.
+
+Lea opened her clenched hands and smoothed them on her sodden skirt.
+She blinked and turned to Brion. "Is there a tool box here?" she asked.
+
+Her words were so unexpected that Brion could not answer for a
+moment. Before he could say anything she spoke again.
+
+"Not hand tools; that would take too long. Could you find anything
+like a power saw? That would be ideal." She turned back to the
+microscope, and he didn't try to question her. Ulv was still looking
+at the body of the magter and had understood nothing of what they
+had said.
+
+Brion went out into the loading bay. There was nothing he could use
+on the ground floor, so he took the stairs to the floor above. A
+corridor here passed by a number of rooms. All of the doors were
+locked, including one with the hopeful sign TOOL ROOM on it. He
+battered at the metal door with his shoulder without budging it. As
+he stepped back to look for another way in, he glanced at his watch.
+
+Two o'clock! In ten hours the bombs would fall on Dis.
+
+The need for haste tore at him. Yet there could be no noise--someone
+in the street might hear it. He quickly stripped off his shirt and
+wrapped it in a loose roll around the barrel of his gun, extending
+it in a loose tube in front of the barrel. Holding the rolled cloth
+in his left hand, he jammed the gun up tight against the door, the
+muzzle against the lock. The single shot was only a dull thud,
+inaudible outside of the building. Pieces of broken mechanism jarred
+and rattled inside the lock and the door swung open.
+
+When he came back Lea was standing by the body. He held the small
+power saw with a rotary blade. "Will this do?" he asked. "Runs on
+its own battery; almost fully charged too."
+
+"Perfect," she answered. "You're both going to have to help me." She
+switched into the Disan language. "Ulv, would you find some place
+where you can watch the street without being seen? Signal me when
+it is empty. I'm afraid this saw is going to make a lot of noise."
+
+Ulv nodded and went out into the bay, where he climbed a heap of
+empty crates so he could peer through the small windows set high in
+the wall. He looked carefully in both directions, then waved to her
+to go ahead.
+
+"Stand to one side and hold the cadaver's chin, Brion," she said.
+"Hold it firmly so the head doesn't shake around when I cut. This
+is going to be a little gruesome. I'm sorry. But it'll be the
+fastest way to cut the bone." The saw bit into the skull.
+
+Once Ulv waved them into silence, and shrank back himself into the
+shadows next to the window. They waited impatiently until he gave
+them the sign to continue again. Brion held steady while the saw
+cut a circle completely around the skull.
+
+"Finished," Lea said and the saw dropped from her limp fingers to
+the floor. She massaged life back into her hands before she finished
+the job. Carefully and delicately she removed the cap of bone from
+the magter's head, exposing his brain to the shaft of light from
+the window.
+
+"You were right all the time, Brion," she said. "There is your alien."
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+Ulv joined them as they looked down at the exposed brain of the
+magter. The thing was so clearly evident that even Ulv noticed it.
+
+"I have seen dead animals and my people dead with their heads open,
+but I have never seen anything like that before," he said.
+
+"What is it?" Brion asked.
+
+"The invader, the alien you were looking for," Lea told him.
+
+The magter's brain was only two-thirds of what would have been its
+normal size. Instead of filling the skull completely, it shared the
+space with a green, amorphous shape. This was ridged somewhat like a
+brain, but the green shape had still darker nodules and extensions.
+Lea took her scalpel and gently prodded the dark moist mass.
+
+"It reminds me very much of something that I've seen before on
+Earth," she said. "The green-fly--_Drepanosiphum platanoides_--and
+an unusual organ it has, called the pseudova. Now that I have seen
+this growth in the magter's skull, I can think of a positive
+parallel. The fly _Drepanosiphum_ also had a large green organ, only
+it fills half of the body cavity instead of the head. Its identity
+puzzled biologists for years, and they had a number of complex
+theories to explain it. Finally someone managed to dissect and
+examine it. The pseudova turned out to be a living plant, a
+yeastlike growth that helps with the green-fly's digestion. It
+produces enzymes that enable the fly to digest the great amounts
+of sugar it gets from plant juice."
+
+"That's not unusual," Brion said, puzzled. "Termites and human
+beings are a couple of other creatures whose digestion is helped
+by internal flora. What's the difference in the green-fly?"
+
+"Reproduction, mainly. All the other gut-living plants have to enter
+the host and establish themselves as outsiders, permitted to remain
+as long as they are useful. The green-fly and its yeast plant have a
+permanent symbiotic relationship that is essential to the existence
+of both. The plant spores appear in many places throughout the fly's
+body--but they are _always_ in the germ cells. Every egg cell has
+some, and every egg that grows to maturity is infected with the
+plant spores. The continuation of the symbiosis is unbroken and
+guaranteed."
+
+"Do you think those green spheres in the magter's blood cells could
+be the same kind of thing?" Brion asked.
+
+"I'm sure of it," Lea said. "It must be the same process. There are
+probably green spheres throughout the magters' bodies, spores or
+offspring of those things in their brains. Enough will find their
+way to the germ cells to make sure that every young magter is
+infected at birth. While the child is growing, so is the symbiote.
+Probably a lot faster, since it seems to be a simpler organism.
+I imagine it is well established in the brain pan within the first
+six months of the infant's life."
+
+"But why?" Brion asked. "What does it do?"
+
+"I'm only guessing now, but there is plenty of evidence that gives
+us an idea of its function. I'm willing to bet that the symbiote
+itself is not a simple organism, it's probably an amalgam of plant
+and animal like most of the other creatures on Dis. The thing is
+just too complex to have developed since mankind has been on this
+planet. The magter must have caught the symbiotic infection eating
+some Disan animal. The symbiote lived and flourished in its new
+environment, well protected by a bony skull in a long-lived host.
+In exchange for food, oxygen and comfort, the brain-symbiote must
+generate hormones and enzymes that enable the magter to survive.
+Some of these might aid digestion, enabling the magter to eat any
+plant or animal life they can lay their hands on. The symbiote might
+produce sugars, scavenge the blood of toxins--there are so many
+things it could do. Things it must have done, since the magter are
+obviously the dominant life form on this planet. They paid a high
+price for the symbiote, but it didn't matter to race survival until
+now. Did you notice that the magter's brain is no smaller than
+normal?"
+
+"It must be--or how else could that brain-symbiote fit in inside
+the skull with it?" Brion said.
+
+"If the magter's total brain were smaller in volume than normal
+it could fit into the remaining space in the cranial hollow. But
+the brain is full-sized--it is just that part of it is missing,
+absorbed by the symbiote."
+
+"The frontal lobes," Brion said with sudden realization.
+"This hellish growth has performed a prefrontal lobotomy!"
+
+"It's done even more than that," Lea said, separating the
+convolutions of the gray matter with her scalpel to uncover a green
+filament beneath. "These tendrils penetrate further back into the
+brain, but always remain in the cerebrum. The cerebellum appears to
+be untouched. Apparently just the higher functions of mankind have
+been interfered with, selectively. Destruction of the frontal lobes
+made the magter creatures without emotions or ability for really
+abstract thought. Apparently they survived better without these.
+There must have been some horrible failures before the right balance
+was struck. The final product is a man-plant-animal symbiote that is
+admirably adapted for survival on this disaster world. No emotions
+to cause complications or desires that might interfere with pure
+survival. Complete ruthlessness--mankind has always been strong on
+this anyway, so it didn't take much of a push."
+
+"The other Disans, like Ulv here, managed to survive without turning
+into such a creature. So why was it necessary for the magter to go
+so far?"
+
+"Nothing is necessary in evolution, you know that," Lea said. "Many
+variations are possible, and all the better ones continue. You might
+say that Ulv's people survive, but the magter survive better. If
+offworld contact hadn't been re-established, I imagine that the
+magter would slowly have become the dominant race. Only they won't
+have the chance now. It looks as though they have succeeded in
+destroying both races with their suicidal urge."
+
+"That's the part that doesn't make sense," Brion said. "The magter
+have survived and climbed right to the top of the evolutionary heap
+here. Yet they are suicidal. How does it happen they haven't been
+wiped out before this?"
+
+"Individually, they have been aggressive to the point of suicide.
+They will attack anything and everything with the same savage lack
+of emotion. Luckily there are no bigger animals on this planet. So
+where they have died as individuals, their utter ruthlessness has
+guaranteed their survival as a group. Now they are faced with a
+problem that is too big for their half-destroyed minds to handle.
+Their personal policy has become their planetary policy--and that's
+never a very smart thing. They are like men with knives who have
+killed all the men who were only armed with stones. Now they are
+facing men with guns, and they are going to keep charging and
+fighting until they are all dead.
+
+"It's a perfect case of the utter impartiality of the forces of
+evolution. Men infected by this Disan life form were the dominant
+creatures on this planet. The creature in the magters' brains was a
+true symbiote then, giving something and receiving something, making
+a union of symbiotes where all were stronger together than any could
+be separately. Now this is changed. The magter brain cannot
+understand the concept of racial death, in a situation where it must
+understand to be able to survive. Therefore the brain-creature is no
+longer a symbiote but a parasite."
+
+"And as a parasite it must be destroyed!" Brion broke in. "We're not
+fighting shadows any more," he exulted. "We've found the enemy--and
+it's not the magter at all. Just a sort of glorified tapeworm that
+is too stupid to know when it is killing itself off. Does it have
+a brain--can it think?"
+
+"I doubt it very much," Lea said. "A brain would be of absolutely no
+use to it. So even if it originally possessed reasoning powers they
+would be gone by now. Symbiotes or parasites that live internally
+like this always degenerate to an absolute minimum of functions."
+
+"Tell me about it. What is this thing?" Ulv broke in, prodding the
+soft form of the brain-symbiote. He had heard all their excited talk
+but had not understood a word.
+
+"Explain it to him, will you, Lea, as best you can," Brion said,
+looking at her, and he realized how exhausted she was. "And sit down
+while you do it; you're long overdue for a rest. I'm going to try--"
+He broke off when he looked at his watch.
+
+It was after four in the afternoon--less than eight hours to go.
+What was he to do? Enthusiasm faded as he realized that only half of
+the problem was solved. The bombs would drop on schedule unless the
+Nyjorders could understand the significance of this discovery. Even
+if they understood, would it make any difference to them? The threat
+of the hidden cobalt bombs would not be changed.
+
+With this thought came the guilty realization that he had forgotten
+completely about Telt's death. Even before he contacted the Nyjord
+fleet he must tell Hys and his rebel army what had happened to Telt
+and his sand car. Also about the radioactive traces. They couldn't
+be checked against the records now to see how important they might
+be, but Hys might make another raid on the strength of the
+suspicion. This call wouldn't take long, then he would be free
+to tackle Professor-Commander Krafft.
+
+Carefully setting the transmitter on the frequency of the rebel
+army, he sent out a call to Hys. There was no answer. When he
+switched to receive all he heard was static.
+
+There was always a chance the set was broken. He quickly twisted the
+transmitter to the frequency of his personal radio, then whistled in
+the microphone. The received signal was so loud that it hurt his
+ears. He tried to call Hys again, and was relieved to get a response
+this time.
+
+"Brion Brandd here. Can you read me? I want to talk to Hys at once."
+
+It came as a shock that it was Professor-Commander Krafft who answered.
+
+"I'm sorry, Brion, but it's impossible to talk to Hys. We are
+monitoring his frequency and your call was relayed to me. Hys and
+his rebels lifted ship about half an hour ago, and are already on
+the way back to Nyjord. Are you ready to leave now? It will soon
+become dangerous to make any landings. Even now I will have to ask
+for volunteers to get you out of there."
+
+Hys and the rebel army gone! Brion assimilated the thought. He had
+been thrown off balance when he realized he was talking to Krafft.
+
+"If they're gone--well, then there's nothing I can do about it," he
+said. "I was going to call you, so I can talk to you now. Listen and
+try to understand. You must cancel the bombing. I've found out about
+the magter, found what causes their mental aberration. If we can
+correct that, we can stop them from attacking Nyjord--"
+
+"Can they be corrected by midnight tonight?" Krafft broke in. He was
+abrupt and sounded almost angry. Even saints get tired.
+
+"No, of course not." Brion frowned at the microphone, realizing the
+talk was going all wrong, but not knowing how to remedy it. "But it
+won't take too long. I have evidence here that will convince you
+that what I say is the truth."
+
+"I believe you without seeing it, Brion." The trace of anger was
+gone from Krafft's voice now, and it was heavy with fatigue and
+defeat. "I'll admit you are probably right. A little while ago
+I admitted to Hys too that he was probably right in his original
+estimation of the correct way to tackle the problem of Dis. We have
+made a lot of mistakes, and in making them we have run out of time.
+I'm afraid that is the only fact that is relevant now. The bombs
+fall at twelve, and even then they may drop too late. A ship is
+already on its way from Nyjord with my replacement. I exceeded my
+authority by running a day past the maximum the technicians gave me.
+I realize now I was gambling the life of my own world in the vain
+hope I could save Dis. They can't be saved. They're dead. I won't
+hear any more about it."
+
+"You must listen--"
+
+"I must destroy the planet below me, that is what I must do.
+That fact will not be changed by anything you say. All the
+offworlders--other than your party--are gone. I'm sending a ship
+down now to pick you up. As soon as that ship lifts I am going to
+drop the first bombs. Now--tell me where you are so they can come
+for you."
+
+"Don't threaten me, Krafft!" Brion shook his fist at the radio in an
+excess of anger. "You're a killer and a world destroyer--don't try
+to make yourself out as anything else. I have the knowledge to avert
+this slaughter and you won't listen to me. And I know where the
+cobalt bombs are--in the magter tower that Hys raided last night.
+Get those bombs and there is no need to drop any of your own!"
+
+"I'm sorry, Brion. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but at the
+same time I know the futility of it. I'm not going to accuse you of
+lying, but do you realize how thin your evidence sounds from this
+end? First, a dramatic discovery of the cause of the magters'
+intransigency. Then, when that had no results, you suddenly remember
+that you know where the bombs are. The best-kept magter secret."
+
+"I don't know for sure, but there is a very good chance it is so,"
+Brion said, trying to repair his defenses. "Telt made readings, he
+had other records of radioactivity in this same magter keep--proof
+that something is there. But Telt is dead now, the records
+destroyed. Don't you see--" He broke off, realizing how vague and
+unprovable his case was. This was defeat.
+
+The radio was silent, with just the hum of the carrier wave as
+Krafft waited for him to continue. When Brion did speak his voice
+was empty of all hope.
+
+"Send your ship down," he said tiredly. "We're in a building that
+belonged to the Light Metals Trust, Ltd., a big warehouse of some
+kind. I don't know the address here, but I'm sure you have someone
+there who can find it. We'll be waiting for you. You win, Krafft."
+
+He turned off the radio.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+"Do you mean what you said, about giving up?" Lea asked. Brion
+realized that she had stopped talking to Ulv some time ago, and had
+been listening to his conversation with Krafft. He shrugged, trying
+to put his feeling into words.
+
+"We've tried--and almost succeeded. But if they won't listen, what
+can we do? What can one man possibly do against a fleet loaded with
+H-bombs?"
+
+As if in answer to the question, Ulv's voice drowned him out,
+the harsh Disan words slashing the silence of the room.
+
+"Kill you, the enemy!" he said. "Kill you _umedvirk_!"
+
+He shouted the last word and his hand flashed to his belt. In a
+single swift motion he lifted his blowgun and placed it to his lips.
+A tiny dart quivered in the already dead flesh of the creature in
+the magter's skull. The action had all the symbolism of a broken
+lance, the declaration of war.
+
+"Ulv understands it a lot better than you might think," Lea said.
+"He knows things about symbiosis and mutualism that would get him
+a job as a lecturer in any university on Earth. He knows just what
+the brain-symbiote is and what it does. They even have a word for it,
+one that never appeared in our Disan language lessons. A life form
+that you can live with or cooperate with is called _medvirk_. One
+that works to destroy you is _umedvirk_. He also understands that
+life forms can change, and be _medvirk_ or _umedvirk_ at different
+times. He has just decided that the brain symbiote is _umedvirk_
+and he is out to kill it. So will the rest of the Disans as soon as
+he can show them the evidence and explain."
+
+"You're sure of this?" Brion asked, interested in spite of himself.
+
+"Positive. The Disans have an absolute attitude towards survival;
+you should realize that. Not the same as the magter, but not much
+different in the results. They will kill the brain-symbiotes, even
+if it means killing every magter who harbors one."
+
+"If that is the case we can't leave now," Brion said. With these
+words it suddenly became clear what he had to do. "The ship is
+coming down now from the fleet. Get in it and take the body of
+the magter. I won't go."
+
+"Where will you be?" she asked, shocked.
+
+"Fighting the magter. My presence on the planet means that Krafft
+won't keep his threat to drop the bombs any earlier than the
+midnight deadline. That would be deliberately murdering me. I doubt
+if my presence past midnight will stop him, but it should keep the
+bombs away at least until then."
+
+"What will you accomplish besides committing suicide?" Lea pleaded.
+"You just told me how a single man can't stop the bombs. What will
+happen to you at midnight?"
+
+"I'll be dead--but in spite of that I can't run away. Not now.
+I must do everything possible right up until the last instant. Ulv
+and I will go to the magter tower, try to find out if the bombs are
+there. He will fight on our side now. He may even know more about
+the bombs, things that he didn't want to tell me before. We can get
+help from his people. Some of them must know where the bombs are,
+being native to this planet."
+
+Lea started to say something, but he rushed on, drowning out her words.
+
+"You have just as big a job. Show the magter to Krafft, explain the
+significance of the brain-parasite to him. Try to get him to talk to
+Hys about the last raid. Try to get him to hold off the attack. I'll
+keep the radio with me and as soon as I know anything I'll call in.
+This is all last resort, finger in the dike kind of stuff, but it is
+all we can do. Because if we do nothing, it means the end of Dis."
+
+Lea tried to argue with him, but he wouldn't listen to her. He only
+kissed her, and with a lightness he did not feel tried to convince
+her that everything would be all right. In their hearts they both
+knew it wouldn't be but they left it that way because it was the
+least painful solution.
+
+A sudden rumbling shook the building and the windows darkened as
+a ship settled in the street outside. The Nyjord crew came in with
+guns pointed, alert for anything.
+
+After a little convincing they took the cadaver, as well as Lea,
+when they lifted ship. Brion watched the spacer become a pinpoint in
+the sky and vanish. He tried to shake off the feeling that this was
+the last time he would see any of them.
+
+"Let's get out of here fast," he told Ulv, picking up the radio,
+"before anyone comes around to see why the ship landed."
+
+"What will you do?" Ulv asked as they went down the street towards
+the desert. "What can we do in the few hours we have left?" He
+pointed at the sun, nearing the horizon. Brion shifted the weight
+of the radio to his other hand before replying.
+
+"Get to the magter tower we raided last night, that's the best chance.
+The bombs might be there.... Unless you know where the bombs are?"
+
+Ulv shook his head. "I do not know, but some of my people may.
+We will capture a magter, then kill him, so they can all see
+the _umedvirk_. Then they will tell us everything they know."
+
+"The tower first then, for bombs or a sample magter. What's the
+fastest way we can get there?"
+
+Ulv frowned in thought. "If you can drive one of the cars the
+offworlders use, I know where there are some locked in buildings
+in this city. None of my people know how they are made to move."
+
+"I can work them--let's go."
+
+Chance was with them this time. The first sand car they found still
+had the keys in the lock. It was battery-powered, but contained
+a full charge. Much quieter than the heavy atomic cars, it sped
+smoothly out of the city and across the sand. Ahead of them the sun
+sank in a red wave of color. It was six o'clock. By the time they
+reached the tower it was seven, and Brion's nerves felt as if they
+were writhing under his skin.
+
+Even though it looked like suicide, attacking the tower brought
+blessed relief. It was movement and action, and for moments at
+a time he forgot the bombs hanging over his head.
+
+The attack was nerve-rackingly anticlimactic. They used the main
+entrance, Ulv ranging soundlessly ahead. There was no one in sight.
+Once inside, they crept down towards the lower rooms where the
+radiation had been detected. Only gradually did they realize that
+the magter tower was completely empty.
+
+"Everyone gone," Ulv grunted, sniffing the air in every room that
+they passed. "Many magter were here earlier, but they are gone now."
+
+"Do they often desert their towers?" Brion asked.
+
+"Never. I have never heard of it happening before. I can think of
+no reason why they should do a thing like this."
+
+"Well, I can," Brion told him. "They would leave their home if they
+took something with them of greater value. The bombs. If the bombs
+were hidden here, they might move them after the attack." Sudden
+fear hit him. "Or they might move them because it is time to take
+them--to the launcher! Let's get out of here, the quickest way we
+can."
+
+"I smell air from outside," Ulv said, "coming from down there. This
+cannot be, because the magter have no entrances this low in their
+towers."
+
+"We blasted one in earlier--that could be it. Can you find it?"
+
+Moonlight shone ahead as they turned an angle of the corridor,
+and stars were visible through the gaping opening in the wall.
+
+"It looks bigger than it was," Brion said, "as if the magter had
+enlarged it." He looked through and saw the tracks on the sand
+outside. "As if they had enlarged it to bring something bulky up
+from below--and carried it away in whatever made those tracks!"
+
+Using the opening themselves, they ran back to the sand car. Brion
+ground it fiercely around and turned the headlights on the tracks.
+There were the marks of a sand car's treads, half obscured by thin,
+unmarked wheel tracks. He turned off the lights and forced himself
+to move slowly and to do an accurate job. A quick glimpse at his
+watch showed him there were four hours left to go. The moonlight was
+bright enough to illuminate the tracks. Driving with one hand, he
+turned on the radio transmitter, already set for Krafft's wave
+length.
+
+When the operator acknowledged his signal Brion reported what they
+had discovered and his conclusions. "Get that message to Commander
+Krafft now. I can't wait to talk to him--I'm following the tracks."
+He killed the transmission and stamped on the accelerator. The sand
+car churned and bounced down the track.
+
+"They are going to the mountains," Ulv said some time later, as the
+tracks still pointed straight ahead. "There are caves there and many
+magter have been seen near them; that is what I have heard."
+
+The guess was correct. Before nine o'clock the ground humped into a
+range of foothills, and the darker masses of mountains could be seen
+behind them, rising up to obscure the stars.
+
+"Stop the car here," Ulv said, "The caves begin not too far ahead.
+There may be magter watching or listening, so we must go quietly."
+
+Brion followed the deep-cut grooves, carrying the radio. Ulv came
+and went on both sides, silently as a shadow, scouting for hidden
+watchers. As far as he could discover there were none.
+
+By nine-thirty Brion realized they had deserted the sand car too
+soon. The tracks wound on and on, and seemed to have no end. They
+passed some caves which Ulv pointed out to him, but the tracks never
+stopped. Time was running out and the nightmare stumbling through
+the darkness continued.
+
+"More caves ahead," Ulv said, "Go quietly."
+
+They came cautiously to the crest of a hill, as they had done so
+many times already, and looked into the shallow valley beyond. Sand
+covered the valley floor, and the light of the setting moon shone
+over the tracks at a flat angle, marking them off sharply as lines
+of shadow. They ran straight across the sandy valley and disappeared
+into the dark mouth of a cave on the far side.
+
+Sinking back behind the hilltop, Brion covered the pilot light with
+his hand and turned on the transmitter. Ulv stayed above him,
+staring at the opening of the cave.
+
+"This is an important message," Brion whispered into the mike.
+"Please record." He repeated this for thirty seconds, glancing at
+his watch to make sure of the time, since the seconds of waiting
+stretched to minutes in his brain. Then, as clearly as possible
+without raising his voice above a whisper, he told of the discovery
+of the tracks and the cave.
+
+"... The bombs may or may not be in here, but we are going in to
+find out. I'll leave my personal transmitter here with the broadcast
+power turned on, so you can home on its signal. That will give you
+a directional beacon to find the cave. I'm taking the other radio
+in--it has more power. If we can't get back to the entrance I'll try
+a signal from inside. I doubt if you will hear it because of the
+rock, but I'll try. End of transmission. Don't try to answer me
+because I have the receiver turned off. There are no earphones on
+this set and the speaker would be too loud here."
+
+He switched off, held his thumb on the button for an instant, then
+flicked it back on.
+
+"Good-by Lea," he said, and killed the power for good.
+
+They circled and reached the rocky wall of the cliff. Creeping
+silently in the shadows, they slipped up on the dark entrance of the
+cave. Nothing moved ahead and there was no sound from the entrance
+of the cave. Brion glanced at his watch and was instantly sorry.
+
+Ten-thirty.
+
+The last shelter concealing them was five metres from the cave. They
+started to rise, to rush the final distance, when Ulv suddenly waved
+Brion down. He pointed to his nose, then to the cave. He could smell
+the magter there.
+
+A dark figure separated itself from the greater darkness of the cave
+mouth. Ulv acted instantly. He stood up and his hand went to his
+mouth; air hissed faintly through the tube in his hand. Without a
+sound the magter folded and fell to the ground. Before the body hit,
+Ulv crouched low and rushed in. There was the sudden scuffling of
+feet on the floor, then silence.
+
+Brion walked in, gun ready and alert, not knowing what he would
+find. His toe pushed against a body on the ground and from the
+darkness Ulv whispered, "There were only two. We can go on now."
+
+Finding their way through the cave was a maddening torture. They had
+no light, nor would they dare use one if they had. There were no
+wheel marks to follow on the stone floor. Without Ulv's sensitive
+nose they would have been completely lost. The cave branched and
+rejoined and they soon lost all sense of direction.
+
+Walking was almost impossible. They had to grope with their hands
+before them like blind men. Stumbling and falling against the rock,
+their fingers were soon throbbing and raw from brushing against the
+rough walls. Ulv followed the scent of the magter that hung in the
+air where they had passed. When it grew thin he knew they had left
+the frequently used tunnels and entered deserted ones. They could
+only retrace their steps and start again in a different direction.
+
+More maddening than the walking was the way time was running out.
+Inexorably the glowing hands crept around the face of Brion's watch
+until they stood at fifteen minutes before twelve.
+
+"There is a light ahead," Ulv whispered, and Brion almost gasped
+with relief. They moved slowly and silently until they stood,
+concealed by the darkness, looking out into a domed chamber brightly
+lit by glowing tubes.
+
+"What is it?" Ulv asked, blinking in the painful wash of
+illumination after the long darkness.
+
+Brion had to fight to control his voice, to stop from shouting.
+
+"The cage with the metal webbing is a jump-space generator. The
+pointed, silver shapes next to it are bombs of some kind, probably
+the cobalt bombs. We've found it!"
+
+His first impulse was to instantly send the radio call that would
+stop the waiting fleet of H-bombers. But an unconvincing message
+would be worse than no message at all. He had to describe exactly
+what he saw here so the Nyjorders would know he wasn't lying. What
+he told them had to fit exactly with the information they already
+had about the launcher and the bombs.
+
+The launcher had been jury-rigged from a ship's jump-space
+generator; that was obvious. The generator and its controls were
+neatly cased and mounted. Cables ran from them to a roughly
+constructed cage of woven metal straps, hammered and bent into shape
+by hand. Three technicians were working on the equipment. Brion
+wondered what sort of blood-thirsty war-lovers the magter had found
+to handle the bombing for them. Then he saw the chains around their
+necks and the bloody wounds on their backs.
+
+He still found it difficult to have any pity for them. They had
+obviously been willing to accept money to destroy another planet--or
+they wouldn't have been working here. They had probably rebelled
+only when they had discovered how suicidal the attack would be.
+
+Thirteen minutes to midnight.
+
+Cradling the radio against his chest, Brion rose to his feet. He had
+a better view of the bombs now. There were twelve of them, alike as
+eggs from the same deadly clutch. Pointed like the bow of a spacer,
+each one swept smoothly back for its two metres of length, to a
+sharply chopped-off end. They were obviously incomplete, the war
+heads of rockets. One had its base turned towards him, and he saw
+six projecting studs that could be used to attach it to the missing
+rocket. A circular inspection port was open in the flat base of the
+bomb.
+
+This was enough. With this description, the Nyjorders would know he
+couldn't be lying about finding the bombs. Once they realized this,
+they couldn't destroy Dis without first trying to neutralize them.
+
+Brion carefully counted fifty paces before he stopped. He was far
+enough from the cavern so he couldn't be heard, and an angle of the
+cave cut off all light from behind him. With carefully controlled
+movements he turned on the power, switched the set to transmit,
+and checked the broadcast frequency. All correct. Then slowly and
+clearly, he described what he had seen in the cavern behind him. He
+kept his voice emotionless, recounting facts, leaving out anything
+that might be considered an opinion.
+
+It was six minutes before midnight when he finished. He thumbed
+the switch to receive and waited.
+
+There was only silence.
+
+Slowly, the empty quality of the silence penetrated his numbed mind.
+There were no crackling atmospherics nor hiss of static, even when
+he turned the power full on. The mass of rock and earth of the
+mountain above was acting as a perfect grounding screen, absorbing
+his signal even at maximum output.
+
+They hadn't heard him. The Nyjord fleet didn't know that the cobalt
+bombs had been discovered before their launching. The attack would
+go ahead as planned. Even now, the bomb-bay doors were opening;
+armed H-bombs hung above the planet, held in place only by their
+shackles. In a few minutes the signal would be given and the
+shackles would spring open, the bombs drop clear....
+
+"Killers!" Brion shouted into the microphone. "You wouldn't listen
+to reason, you wouldn't listen to Hys, or me, or to any voice that
+suggested an alternative to complete destruction. You are going to
+destroy Dis, and _it's not necessary!_ There were a lot of ways you
+could have stopped it. You didn't do any of them, and now it's too
+late. You'll destroy Dis, and in turn this will destroy Nyjord.
+Ihjel said that, and now I believe him. You're just another damned
+failure in a galaxy full of failures!"
+
+He raised the radio above his head and sent it crashing into
+the rock floor. Then he was running back to Ulv, trying to run away
+from the realization that he too had tried and failed. The people
+on the surface of Dis had less than two minutes left to live.
+
+"They didn't get my message," Brion said to Ulv. "The radio won't
+work this far underground."
+
+"Then the bombs will fall?" Ulv asked, looking searchingly at
+Brion's face in the dim reflected light from the cavern.
+
+"Unless something happens that we know nothing about, the bombs
+will fall."
+
+They said nothing after that--they simply waited. The three
+technicians in the cavern were also aware of the time. They were
+calling to each other and trying to talk to the magter. The
+emotionless, parasite-ridden brains of the magter saw no reason to
+stop work, and they attempted to beat the men back to their tasks.
+In spite of the blows, they didn't go; they only gaped in horror as
+the clock hands moved remorselessly towards twelve. Even the magter
+dimly felt some of the significance of the occasion. They stopped
+too and waited.
+
+The hour hand touched twelve on Brion's watch, then the minute hand.
+The second hand closed the gap and for a tenth of a second the three
+hands were one. Then the second hand moved on.
+
+Brion's immediate sensation of relief was washed away by the
+chilling realization that he was deep underground. Sound and seismic
+waves were slow, and the flare of atomic explosions couldn't be seen
+here. If the bombs had been dropped at twelve they wouldn't know it
+at once.
+
+A distant rumble filled the air. A moment later the ground heaved
+under them and the lights in the cavern flickered. Fine dust drifted
+down from the roof above.
+
+Ulv turned to him, but Brion looked away. He could not face the
+accusation in the Disan's eyes.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+One of the technicians was running and screaming. The magter knocked
+him down and beat him into silence. Seeing this, the other two men
+returned to work with shaking hands. Even if all life on the surface
+of the planet was dead, this would have no effect on the magter.
+They would go ahead as planned, without emotion or imagination
+enough to alter their set course.
+
+As the technicians worked, their attitude changed from shocked
+numbness to anger. Right and wrong were forgotten. They had been
+killed--the invisible death of radiation must already be penetrating
+into the caves--but they also had the chance for vengeance. Swiftly
+they brought their work to completion, with a speed and precision
+they had concealed before.
+
+"What are those offworlders doing?" Ulv asked.
+
+Brion stirred from his lethargy of defeat and looked across the
+cavern floor. The men had a wheeled handtruck and were rolling one
+of the atomic warheads onto it. They pushed it over to the
+latticework of the jump-field.
+
+"They are going to bomb Nyjord now, just as Nyjord bombed Dis. That
+machine will hurl the bombs in a special way to the other planet."
+
+"Will you stop them?" Ulv asked. He had his deadly blowgun in his
+hand and his face was an expressionless mask.
+
+Brion almost smiled at the irony of the situation. In spite of
+everything he had done to prevent it, Nyjord had dropped the bombs.
+And this act alone may have destroyed their own planet. Brion had it
+within his power now to stop the launching in the cavern. Should he?
+Should he save the lives of his killers? Or should he practice the
+ancient blood-oath that had echoed and destroyed down through the
+ages: _An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth._ It would be so
+simple. He literally had to do nothing. The score would be even, and
+his and the Disans' death avenged.
+
+Did Ulv have his blowgun ready to kill Brion with, if he should try
+to stop the launchings? Or had he misread the Disan entirely?
+
+"Will _you_ stop them, Ulv?" he asked.
+
+How large was mankind's sense of obligation? The caveman first had
+this feeling for his mate, then for his family. It grew until men
+fought and died for the abstract ideas of cities and nations, then
+for whole planets. Would the time ever come when men might realize
+that the obligation should be to the largest and most encompassing
+reality of all--mankind? And beyond that to life of all kinds.
+
+Brion saw this idea, not in words but as a reality. When he posed
+the question to himself in this way he found that it stated clearly
+its inherent answer. He pulled his gun out, and as he did he
+wondered what Ulv's answer might be.
+
+"Nyjord is _medvirk_," Ulv said, raising his blowgun and sending a
+dart across the cavern. It struck one of the technicians, who gasped
+and fell to the floor.
+
+Brion's shots crashed into the control board, shorting and
+destroying it, removing the menace to Nyjord for all time.
+
+_Medvirk_, Ulv had said. A life form that cooperates and aids other
+life forms. It may kill in self-defense, but it is essentially not
+a killer or destroyer. Ulv had a lifetime of knowledge about the
+interdependency of life. He grasped the essence of the idea and
+ignored all the verbal complications and confusions. He had
+killed the magter, who were his own people, because they were
+_umedvirk_--against life. And he had saved his enemies because
+they were _medvirk_.
+
+With this realization came the painful knowledge that the planet
+and the people that had produced this understanding were dead.
+
+In the cavern the magter saw the destruction of their plans, and
+the cave mouth from which the bullets had come. Silently they rushed
+to kill their enemy--a concerted wave of emotionless fury.
+
+Brion and Ulv fought back. Even the knowledge that he was doomed no
+matter what happened could not resign Brion to death at the hands
+of the magter. To Ulv, the decision was much easier. He was simply
+killing _umedvirk_. A believer in life, he destroyed the anti-life.
+
+They retreated into the darkness, still firing. The magter had
+lights and ion rifles, and were right behind them. Knowing the
+caverns better than the men they chased, the pursuers circled.
+Brion saw lights ahead and dragged Ulv to a stop.
+
+"They know their way through these caves, and we don't," he said.
+"If we try to run they'll just shoot us down. Let's find a spot
+we can defend and settle into it."
+
+"Back here"--Ulv gave a tug in the right direction--"there is a cave
+with only one entrance, and that is very narrow."
+
+"Let's go!"
+
+Running as silently as they could in the darkness, they reached
+the deadend cavern without being seen. What noise they made was lost
+in other footsteps that sounded and echoed through the connecting
+caves. Once inside, they found cover behind a ridge and waited.
+The end was certain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The magter ran swiftly into their cave, flashing his light into all
+the places of concealment. The beam passed over the two hidden men,
+and at the same instant Brion fired. The shot boomed loudly as the
+magter fell--a shot that would surely have been heard by the others.
+
+Before anyone else came into the cave, Brion ran over and grabbed
+the still functioning light. Propping it on the rocks so it shone on
+the entrance, he hurried back to shelter beside Ulv. They waited for
+the attack.
+
+It was not long in coming. Two magter rushed in, and died. More were
+outside, Brion knew, and he wondered how long it would be before
+they remembered the grenades and rolled one into their shelter.
+
+An indistinct murmur sounded outside, and sharp explosions. In their
+hiding place, Brion and Ulv crouched low and wondered why the attack
+didn't come. Then one of the magter came in the entrance, but Brion
+hesitated before shooting.
+
+The man had _backed_ in, firing behind him as he came.
+
+Ulv had no compunctions about killing, only his darts couldn't
+penetrate the magter's thick clothing. As the magter turned, Ulv's
+breath pulsed once and death stung the back of the other man's hand.
+He collapsed into a crumpled heap.
+
+"Don't shoot," a voice called from outside the cave, and a man
+stepped through the swirling dust and smoke to stand in the beam
+from the light.
+
+Brion clutched wildly at Ulv's arm, dragging the blowgun from
+the Disan's mouth.
+
+The man in the light wore a protective helmet, thick boots and
+a pouch-hung uniform.
+
+He was a Nyjorder.
+
+The realization was almost impossible to accept. Brion had heard
+the bombs fall. Yet the Nyjord soldier was here. The two facts
+couldn't be accepted together.
+
+"Would you keep a hold on his arm, sir, just in case," the soldier
+said, glancing warily at Ulv's blowpipe. "I know what those darts
+can do." He pulled a microphone from one of his pockets and spoke
+into it.
+
+More soldiers crowded into the cave, and Professor-Commander Krafft
+came in behind them. He looked strangely out of keeping in the dusty
+combat uniform. The gun was even more incongruous in his blue-veined
+hand. After giving the pistol to the nearest soldier with an air of
+relief, he stumbled quickly over to Brion and took his hand.
+
+"It is a profound and sincere pleasure to meet you in person,"
+he said. "And your friend Ulv as well."
+
+"Would you kindly explain what is going on?" Brion said thickly. He
+was obsessed by the strange feeling that none of this could possibly
+be happening.
+
+"We will always remember you as the man who saved us from ourselves,"
+Krafft said, once again the professor instead of the commander.
+
+"What Brion wants are facts, Grandpa, not speeches," Hys said. The
+bent form of the leader of the rebel Nyjord army pushed through the
+crowd of taller men until he stood next to Krafft. "Simply stated,
+Brion, your plan succeeded. Krafft relayed your message to me--and
+as soon as I heard it I turned back and met him on his ship. I'm
+sorry that Telt's dead--but he found what we were looking for. I
+couldn't ignore his report of radioactive traces. Your girl friend
+arrived with the hacked-up corpse at the same time I did, and we all
+took a long look at the green leech in its skull. Her explanation of
+what it is made significant sense. We were already carrying out
+landings when we had your call about something having been stored
+in the magter tower. After that it was just a matter of following
+tracks--and the transmitter you planted."
+
+"But the explosions at midnight?" Brion broke in. "I heard them!"
+
+"You were supposed to," Hys laughed. "Not only you, but the magter
+in this cave. We figured they would be armed and the cave strongly
+defended. So at midnight we dropped a few large chemical explosive
+bombs at the entrance. Enough to kill the guards without bringing
+the roof down. We also hoped that the magter deeper in would leave
+their posts or retreat from the imagined radiation. And they did. It
+worked like a charm. We came in quietly and took them by surprise.
+Made a clean sweep--killed the ones we couldn't capture."
+
+"One of the renegade jump-space technicians was still alive,"
+Krafft said. "He told us about your stopping the bombs aimed
+at Nyjord, the two of you."
+
+None of the Nyjorders there could add anything to his words, not
+even the cynical Hys. But Brion could empathize their feelings, the
+warmth of their intense relief and happiness. It was a sensation he
+would never forget.
+
+"There is no more war," Brion translated for Ulv, knowing that the
+Disan had understood nothing of the explanation. As he said it, he
+realized that there was one glaring error in the story.
+
+"You couldn't have done it," Brion said. "You landed on this planet
+_before_ you had my message about the tower. That means you still
+expected the magter to be sending their bombs to Nyjord--and you
+made the landings in spite of this knowledge."
+
+"Of course," Professor Krafft said, astonished at Brion's lack
+of understanding. "What else could we do? The magter are sick!"
+
+Hys laughed aloud at Brion's baffled expression. "You have to
+understand Nyjord psychology," he said. "When it was a matter of war
+and killing, my planet could never agree on an intelligent course.
+War is so alien to our philosophy that it couldn't even be
+considered correctly. That's the trouble with being a vegetable
+eater in a galaxy of carnivores. You're easy prey for the first one
+that lands on your back. Any other planet would have jumped on the
+magter with both feet and shaken the bombs out of them. We fumbled
+it so long it almost got both worlds killed. Your mind-parasite drew
+us back from the brink."
+
+"I don't understand," Brion said.
+
+"A simple matter of definition. Before you came we had no way to
+deal with the magter here on Dis. They really were alien to us.
+Nothing they did made sense--and nothing we did seemed to have the
+slightest effect on them. But you discovered that they were _sick_,
+and that's something we know how to handle. We're united again; my
+rebel army was instantly absorbed into the rest of the Nyjord forces
+by mutual agreement. Doctors and nurses are on the way here now.
+Plans were put under way to evacuate what part of the population we
+could until the bombs were found. The planet is united again, and
+working hard."
+
+"Because the magter are sick, infected by a destructive life form?"
+Brion asked.
+
+"Exactly so," Professor Krafft said. "We are civilized, after all.
+You can't expect us to fight a war--and you surely can't expect us
+to ignore the plight of sick neighbors?"
+
+"No ... you surely can't," Brion said, sitting down heavily.
+He looked at Ulv, to whom the speech had been incomprehensible.
+Beyond him, Hys wore his most cynical expression as he considered
+the frailties of his people.
+
+"Hys," Brion called out, "you translate all that into Disan and
+explain to Ulv. I wouldn't dare."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+Dis was a floating golden ball, looking like a schoolroom globe in
+space. No clouds obscured its surface, and from this distance it
+seemed warm and attractive set against the cold darkness. Brion
+almost wished he were back there now, as he sat shivering inside the
+heavy coat. He wondered how long it would be before his confused
+body-temperature controls decided to turn off the summer adjustment.
+He hoped it wouldn't be as sudden or as drastic as turning it on
+had been.
+
+Delicate as a dream, Lea's reflection swam in space next to the
+planet. She had come up quietly behind him in the spaceship's
+corridor, only her gentle breath and mirrored face telling him
+she was there. He turned quickly and took her hands in his.
+
+"You're looking infinitely better," he said.
+
+"Well, I should," she said, pushing back her hair in an unconscious
+gesture with her hand. "I've been doing nothing but lying in the
+ship's hospital, while you were having such a fine time this last
+week. Rushing around down there shooting all the magter."
+
+"Just gassing them," he told her. "The Nyjorders can't bring
+themselves to kill any more, even if it does raise their own
+casualty rate. In fact, they are having difficulty restraining the
+Disans led by Ulv, who are happily killing any magter they see as
+being pure _umedvirk_."
+
+"What will they do when they have all those frothing magter madmen?"
+
+"They don't know yet," he said. "They won't really know until they
+see what an adult magter is like with his brain-parasite dead and
+gone. They're having better luck with the children. If they catch
+them early enough, the parasite can be destroyed before it has done
+too much damage."
+
+Lea shuddered delicately and let herself lean against him. "I'm not
+that sturdy yet; let's sit down while we talk." There was a couch
+opposite the viewport where they could sit and still see Dis.
+
+"I hate to think of a magter deprived of his symbiote," she said.
+"If his system can stand the shock, I imagine there will be nothing
+left except a brainless hulk. This is one series of experiments
+I don't care to witness. I rest secure in the knowledge that
+the Nyjorders will find the most humane solution."
+
+"I'm sure they will," Brion said.
+
+"Now what about us?" she said disconcertingly, leaning back in his
+arms. "I must say you have the highest body temperature of any one
+I have ever touched. It's positively exciting."
+
+This jarred Brion even more. He didn't have her ability to put past
+horrors out of the mind by substituting present pleasures. "Well,
+just what about us?" he said with masterful inappropriateness.
+
+She smiled as she leaned against him. "You weren't as vague as that,
+the night in the hospital room. I seem to remember a few other
+things you said. And did. You can't claim you're completely
+indifferent to me, Brion Brandd. So I'm only asking you what any
+outspoken Anvharian girl would. Where do we go from here? Get
+married?"
+
+There was a definite pleasure in holding her slight body in his arms
+and feeling her hair against his cheek. They both sensed it, and
+this awareness made his words sound that much more ugly.
+
+"Lea--darling! You know how important you are to me--but you
+certainly realize that we could never get married."
+
+Her body stiffened and she tore herself away from him.
+
+"Why, you great, fat, egotistical slab of meat! What do you mean by
+that? I like you, Lea, we have plenty of fun and games together, but
+surely you realize that you aren't the kind of girl one takes home
+to mother!"
+
+"Lea, hold on," he said. "You know better than to say a thing like
+that. What I said has nothing to do with how I feel towards you.
+But marriage means children, and you are biologist enough to know
+about Earth's genes--"
+
+"Intolerant yokel!" she cried, slapping his face. He didn't move or
+attempt to stop her. "I expected better from you, with all your
+pretensions of understanding. But all you can think of are the
+horror stories about the worn-out genes of Earth. You're the same as
+every other big, strapping bigot from the frontier planets. I know
+how you look down on our small size, our allergies and haemophilia
+and all the other weaknesses that have been bred back and preserved
+by the race. You hate--"
+
+"But that's not what I meant at all," he interrupted, shocked, his
+voice drowning hers out. "Yours are the strong genes, the viable
+strains--_mine_ are the deadly ones. A child of mine would kill
+itself and you in a natural birth, if it managed to live to term.
+You're forgetting that you are the original homo sapiens. I'm a
+recent mutation."
+
+Lea was frozen by his words. They revealed a truth she had known,
+but would never permit herself to consider.
+
+"Earth is home, the planet where mankind developed," he said. "The
+last few thousand years you may have been breeding weaknesses back
+into the genetic pool. But that's nothing compared to the hundred
+millions of years that it took to develop man. How many newborn
+babies live to be a year of age on Earth?"
+
+"Why ... almost all of them. A fraction of one per cent die each
+year--I can't recall exactly how many."
+
+"Earth is home," he said again gently. "When men leave home they can
+adapt to different planets, but a price must be paid. A terrible
+price is in dead infants. The successful mutations live, the
+failures die. Natural selection is a brutally simple affair. When
+you look at me, you see a success. I have a sister--a success too.
+Yet my mother had six other children who died when they were still
+babies. And several others that never came to term. You know about
+these things, don't you, Lea?"
+
+"I know, I know ..." she said sobbing into her hands. He held her
+now and she didn't pull away. "I know it all as a biologist--but
+I am so awfully tired of being a biologist, and top of my class and
+a mental match for any man. When I think about you, I do it as
+a woman, and can't admit any of this. I need someone, Brion, and
+I needed you so much because I loved you." She paused and wiped her
+eyes. "You're going home, aren't you? Back to Anvhar. When?"
+
+"I can't wait too long," he said, unhappily. "Aside from my personal
+wants, I find myself remembering that I'm a part of Anvhar. When you
+think of the number of people who suffered and died--or adapted--so
+that I could be sitting here now ... well, it's a little
+frightening. I suppose it doesn't make sense logically that I should
+feel indebted to them. But I do. Anything I do now, or in the next
+few years, won't be as important as getting back to Anvhar."
+
+"And I won't be going back with you." It was a flat statement
+the way she said it, not a question.
+
+"No, you won't be," he said. "There is nothing on Anvhar for you."
+
+Lea was looking out of the port at Dis and her eyes were dry now.
+"Way back in my deeply buried unconscious I think I knew it would
+end this way," she said. "If you think your little lecture on the
+Origins of Man was a novelty, it wasn't. It just reminded me of a
+number of things my glands had convinced me to forget. In a way, I
+envy you your weightlifter wife-to-be, and your happy kiddies. But
+not very much. Very early in life I resigned myself to the fact that
+there was no one on Earth I would care to marry. I always had these
+teen-age dreams of a hero from space who would carry me off, and I
+guess I slipped you into the pattern without realizing it. I'm old
+enough now to face the fact that I like my work more than a banal
+marriage, and I'll probably end up a frigid and virtuous old maid,
+with more degrees and titles than you have shot-putting records."
+
+As they looked through the port Dis began slowly to contract. Their
+ship drew away from it, heading towards Nyjord. They sat apart,
+without touching now. Leaving Dis meant leaving behind something
+they had shared. They had been strangers together there, on a
+strange world. For a brief time their lifelines had touched. That
+time was over now.
+
+"Don't we look happy!" Hys said, shambling towards them.
+
+"Fall dead and make me even happier then," Lea snapped bitterly.
+
+Hys ignored the acid tone of her words and sat down on the couch next
+to them. Since leaving command of his rebel Nyjord army he seemed much
+mellower. "Going to keep on working for the Cultural Relationships
+Foundation, Brion?" he asked. "You're the kind of man we need."
+
+Brion's eyes widened as the meaning of the last words penetrated.
+"Are you in the C.R.F.?"
+
+"Field agent for Nyjord," he said. "I hope you don't think those
+helpless office types like Faussel or Mervv really represented us
+there? They just took notes and acted as a front and cover for the
+organization. Nyjord is a fine planet, but a gentle guiding hand
+behind the scenes is needed, to help them find their place in the
+galaxy before they are pulverized."
+
+"What's your dirty game, Hys?" Lea asked, scowling. "I've had enough
+hints to suspect for a long time that there was more to the C.R.F.
+than the sweetness-and-light part I have seen. Are you people
+egomaniacs, power hungry or what?"
+
+"That's the first charge that would be leveled at us if our
+activities were publicly known," Hys told her. "That's why we do
+most of our work under cover. The best fact I can give you to
+counter the charge is _money_. Just where do you think we get the
+funds for an operation this size?" He smiled at their blank looks.
+"You'll see the records later so there won't be any doubt. The truth
+is that all our funds are donated by planets we have helped. Even a
+tiny percentage of a planetary income is large--add enough of them
+together and you have enough money to help other planets. And
+voluntary gratitude is a perfect test, if you stop to think about
+it. You can't talk people into liking what you have done. They have
+to be convinced. There have always been people on C.R.F. worlds who
+knew about our work, and agreed with it enough to see that we are
+kept in funds."
+
+"Why are you telling me all this super-secret stuff," Lea asked.
+
+"Isn't that obvious? We want you to keep on working for us. You can
+name whatever salary you like--as I've said, there is no shortage of
+ready cash."
+
+Hys glanced quickly at them both and delivered the clinching
+argument. "I hope Brion will go on working with us too. He is the
+kind of field agent we desperately need, and it is almost impossible
+to find."
+
+"Just show me where to sign," Lea said, and there was life in her
+voice once again.
+
+"I wouldn't exactly call it blackmail," Brion smiled, "but I suppose
+if you people can juggle planetary psychologies, you must find that
+individuals can be pushed around like chessmen. Though you should
+realize that very little pushing is required this time."
+
+"Will you sign on?" Hys asked.
+
+"I must go back to Anvhar," Brion said, "but there really is no
+pressing hurry."
+
+"Earth," said Lea, "is overpopulated enough as it is."
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+                        72
+                       HOURS
+                      IN HELL
+
+          Dis was a harsh, inhospitable,
+   dangerous place and the Magter made it worse.
+            They might have been human
+      once--but they were something else now.
+       The Magter had only one desire--Kill!
+     Kill everything, themselves, their planet,
+            the universe if they could--
+          Brion Brandd was sent in at the
+  eleventh hour. His mission was to save Dis, but
+        it looked as though he was going to
+          preside over its annihilation.
+
+               PLANET OF THE DAMNED
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+                 HARRY HARRISON
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of the Damned, by Harry Harrison
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of the Damned, by Harry Harrison
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Planet of the Damned
+
+Author: Harry Harrison
+
+Release Date: June 20, 2007 [EBook #21873]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANET OF THE DAMNED ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, William Woods and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p class="tr">Transcriber's note:<br/>
+This etext was produced from the 1962 book publication of the story, which was originally published in <i>Analog Science Fact&mdash;Science Fiction</i>,
+Sept.&ndash;Nov. 1961.
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright
+on this publication was renewed.</p>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required.
+<p>
+<a href="#I"><b>I</b></a><br />
+<a href="#II"><b>II</b></a><br />
+<a href="#III"><b>III</b></a><br />
+<a href="#IV"><b>IV</b></a><br />
+<a href="#V"><b>V</b></a><br />
+<a href="#VI"><b>VI</b></a><br />
+<a href="#VII"><b>VII</b></a><br />
+<a href="#VIII"><b>VIII</b></a><br />
+<a href="#IX"><b>IX</b></a><br />
+<a href="#X"><b>X</b></a><br />
+<a href="#XI"><b>XI</b></a><br />
+<a href="#XII"><b>XII</b></a><br />
+<a href="#XIII"><b>XIII</b></a><br />
+<a href="#XIV"><b>XIV</b></a><br />
+<a href="#XV"><b>XV</b></a><br />
+<a href="#XVI"><b>XVI</b></a><br />
+<a href="#XVII"><b>XVII</b></a><br />
+<a href="#XVIII"><b>XVIII</b></a><br />
+<a href="#XIX"><b>XIX</b></a><br />
+</p>
+ End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+<div class="blurb">
+<p style="text-align:center;"><b>EVIL</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 75%;' />
+
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">
+Brion entered the temple and stood as if rooted to the
+ground. There was a horror in this place&mdash;it clung to
+everything. Muffled and hooded men stood silent and
+unmoving about the room, their attention rigidly focused
+on a figure in the center. Brion wondered how he knew
+they were men&mdash;only their eyes showed, eyes completely
+empty of expression yet somehow reminding him of a
+bird of prey.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 75%;' />
+
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">
+Then suddenly the figure in the center moved. It was a
+weird, crazily menacing action&mdash;and in an instant Brion
+knew he had found the enemy, the source of the evil that
+infected the <b>PLANET OF THE DAMNED</b>.</p></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blurb">
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">
+Bantam Books by Harry Harrison<br />
+Ask your bookseller for the books you have missed.</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent: 0em; margin-left: 1em;">
+DEATHWORLD<br />
+DEATHWORLD II<br />
+PLANET OF THE DAMNED<br />
+TWO TALES AND EIGHT TOMORROWS<br />
+THE JUPITER LEGACY (PLAGUE FROM SPACE)
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;"> <!-- title page -->
+<h1> <big>PLANET OF<br />
+THE DAMNED</big><br />
+<br />
+BY HARRY HARRISON </h1>
+<br />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 294px;">
+<img src="images/bantam_logo.jpg" width="294" height="262"
+alt="Bantam Books - Toronto New York London"
+title="Bantam Books - Toronto New York London" />
+</div>
+
+<p style="text-align:center; margin-bottom: 2em;">
+A NATIONAL GENERAL COMPANY
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;"> <!-- copyright page -->
+<p style="text-align:center;">PLANET OF THE DAMNED</p>
+
+<p style="text-align:center;">
+<i>A Bantam Book / published January 1962</i><br />
+<i>New Bantam edition published February 1971</i><br />
+<br />
+<i>All rights reserved.</i><br />
+<i>Copyright &copy; 1962, by Harry Harrison.</i><br />
+<i>This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by<br />
+mimeograph or any other means, without permission.</i><br />
+<i>For information address: Bantam Books, Inc.</i></p>
+
+<p style="text-align:center;">
+<i>Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada</i></p>
+
+<div style=" width: 60%; margin: auto; border-top: solid gray 2px; border-bottom: solid gray 2px; ">
+<p style="text-indent: 0;">
+<i>Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, Inc., a National
+General company. Its trade-mark, consisting of the words "Bantam
+Books" and the portrayal of a bantam, is registered in the United
+States Patent Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada.
+Bantam Books, Inc., 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10019.</i></p></div>
+
+<p style="text-align:center; letter-spacing:0.2em;">
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p style="text-align:center;">
+<span class="smcap">For my Mother and Father&mdash;</span></p>
+
+<p style="text-align:center;">
+<small>RIA AND LEO HARRISON </small></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2>
+
+<div style="width: 16em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 2em;">
+<p style="margin-bottom: 0em;"><i>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A man said to the universe:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Sir, I exist!"</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"However" replied the universe,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"The fact has not created in me</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.2em;">A sense of obligation."</span></i></p>
+<p style="text-align: right; margin-top: .25em; margin-right: 1em"><small>STEPHEN CRANE</small></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Sweat covered Brion's body, trickling into the tight
+loincloth that was the only garment he wore. The
+light fencing foil in his hand felt as heavy as a bar of
+lead to his exhausted muscles, worn out by a month
+of continual exercise. These things were of no importance.
+The cut on his chest, still dripping blood, the
+ache of his overstrained eyes&mdash;even the soaring arena
+around him with the thousands of spectators&mdash;were
+trivialities not worth thinking about. There was only
+one thing in his universe: the button-tipped length of
+shining steel that hovered before him, engaging his
+own weapon. He felt the quiver and scrape of its life,
+knew when it moved and moved himself to counteract
+it. And when he attacked, it was always there
+to beat him aside.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden motion. He reacted&mdash;but his blade just
+met air. His instant of panic was followed by a small
+sharp blow high on his chest.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Touch!</i>" A world-shaking voice bellowed the word
+to a million waiting loudspeakers, and the applause
+of the audience echoed back in a wave of sound.</p>
+
+<p>"One minute," a voice said, and the time buzzer
+sounded.</p>
+
+<p>Brion had carefully conditioned the reflex in himself.
+A minute is not a very large measure of time
+and his body needed every fraction of it. The
+buzzer's whirr triggered his muscles into complete
+relaxation. Only his heart and lungs worked on at a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
+strong, measured rate. His eyes closed and he was
+only distantly aware of his handlers catching him as
+he fell, carrying him to his bench. While they massaged
+his limp body and cleansed the wound, all of
+his attention was turned inward. He was in reverie,
+sliding along the borders of consciousness. The nagging
+memory of the previous night loomed up then,
+and he turned it over and over in his mind, examining
+it from all sides.</p>
+
+<p>It was the very unexpectedness of the event that
+had been so unusual. The contestants in the Twenties
+needed undisturbed rest, therefore nights in the dormitories
+were as quiet as death. During the first few
+days, of course, the rule wasn't observed too closely.
+The men themselves were too keyed up and excited
+to rest easily. But as soon as the scores began to
+mount and eliminations cut into their ranks, there
+was complete silence after dark. Particularly so on
+this last night, when only two of the little cubicles
+were occupied, the thousands of others standing with
+dark, empty doors.</p>
+
+<p>Angry words had dragged Brion from a deep and
+exhausted sleep. The words were whispered but
+clear&mdash;two voices, just outside the thin metal of his
+door. Someone spoke his name.</p>
+
+<p>"... Brion Brandd. Of course not. Whoever said
+you could was making a big mistake and there is
+going to be trouble&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk like an idiot!" The other voice snapped
+with a harsh urgency, clearly used to command. "I'm
+here because the matter is of utmost importance, and
+Brandd is the one I must see. Now stand aside!"</p>
+
+<p>"The Twenties&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't give a damn about your games, hearty
+cheers and physical exercises. This is <i>important</i>, or I
+wouldn't be here!"</p>
+
+<p>The other didn't speak&mdash;he was surely one of the
+officials&mdash;and Brion could sense his outraged anger.
+He must have drawn his gun, because the intruder
+said quickly, "Put that away. You're being a fool!"</p>
+
+<p>"Out!" was the single snarled word of the response.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>
+There was silence then and, still wondering, Brion
+was once more asleep.</p>
+
+<p>"Ten seconds."</p>
+
+<p>The voice chopped away Brion's memories and he
+let awareness seep back into his body. He was unhappily
+conscious of his total exhaustion. The month of
+continuous mental and physical combat had taken
+its toll. It would be hard to stay on his feet, much less
+summon the strength and skill to fight and win a
+touch.</p>
+
+<p>"How do we stand?" he asked the handler who was
+kneading his aching muscles.</p>
+
+<p>"Four-four. All you need is a touch to win!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's all he needs too," Brion grunted, opening
+his eyes to look at the wiry length of the man at the
+other end of the long mat. No one who had reached
+the finals in the Twenties could possibly be a weak
+opponent, but this one, Irolg, was the pick of the lot.
+A red-haired mountain of a man, with an apparently
+inexhaustible store of energy. That was really all that
+counted now. There could be little art in this last and
+final round of fencing. Just thrust and parry, and
+victory to the stronger.</p>
+
+<p>Brion closed his eyes again and knew the moment
+he had been hoping to avoid had arrived.</p>
+
+<p>Every man who entered the Twenties had his own
+training tricks. Brion had a few individual ones that
+had helped him so far. He was a moderately strong
+chess player, but he had moved to quick victory in
+the chess rounds by playing incredibly unorthodox
+games. This was no accident, but the result of years
+of work. He had a standing order with off-planet
+agents for archaic chess books, the older the better.
+He had memorized thousands of these ancient games
+and openings. This was allowed. Anything was allowed
+that didn't involve drugs or machines. Self-hypnosis
+was an accepted tool.</p>
+
+<p>It had taken Brion over two years to find a way to
+tap the sources of hysterical strength. Common as the
+phenomenon seemed to be in the textbooks, it proved
+impossible to duplicate. There appeared to be an
+immediate association with the death-trauma, as if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
+the two were inextricably linked into one. Berserkers
+and juramentados continue to fight and kill though
+carved by scores of mortal wounds. Men with bullets
+in the heart or brain fight on, though already clinically
+dead. Death seemed an inescapable part of this
+kind of strength. But there was another type that
+could easily be brought about in any deep trance&mdash;hypnotic
+rigidity. The strength that enables someone
+in a trance to hold his body stiff and unsupported except
+at two points, the head and heels. This is physically
+impossible when conscious. Working with this as
+a clue, Brion had developed a self-hypnotic technique
+that allowed him to tap this reservoir of unknown
+strength&mdash;the source of "second wind," the survival
+strength that made the difference between life and
+death.</p>
+
+<p>It could also kill&mdash;exhaust the body beyond hope of
+recovery, particularly when in a weakened condition
+as his was now. But that wasn't important. Others
+had died before during the Twenties, and death during
+the last round was in some ways easier than
+defeat.</p>
+
+<p>Breathing deeply, Brion softly spoke the auto-hypnotic
+phrases that triggered the process. Fatigue
+fell softly from him, as did all sensations of heat, cold
+and pain. He could feel with acute sensitivity, hear,
+and see clearly when he opened his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>With each passing second the power drew at the
+basic reserves of life, draining it from his body.</p>
+
+<p>When the buzzer sounded he pulled his foil from
+his second's startled grasp, and ran forward. Irolg had
+barely time to grab up his own weapon and parry
+Brion's first thrust. The force of his rush was so great
+that the guards on their weapons locked, and their
+bodies crashed together. Irolg looked amazed at the
+sudden fury of the attack&mdash;then smiled. He thought it
+was a last burst of energy, he knew how close they
+both were to exhaustion. This must be the end for
+Brion.</p>
+
+<p>They disengaged and Irolg put up a solid defense.
+He didn't attempt to attack, just let Brion wear himself
+out against the firm shield of his defense.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Brion saw something close to panic on his opponent's
+face when the man finally recognized his
+error. Brion wasn't tiring. If anything, he was pressing
+the attack. A wave of despair rolled out from
+Irolg&mdash;Brion sensed it and knew the fifth point was
+his.</p>
+
+<p>Thrust&mdash;thrust&mdash;and each time the parrying sword
+a little slower to return. Then the powerful twist that
+thrust it aside. In and under the guard. The slap of
+the button on flesh and the arc of steel that reached
+out and ended on Irolg's chest over his heart.</p>
+
+<p>Waves of sound&mdash;cheering and screaming&mdash;lapped
+against Brion's private world, but he was only remotely
+aware of their existence. Irolg dropped his foil,
+and tried to shake Brion's hand, but his legs suddenly
+gave way. Brion had an arm around him, holding
+him up, walking towards the rushing handlers. Then
+Irolg was gone and he waved off his own men, walking
+slowly by himself.</p>
+
+<p>Except that something was wrong and it was like
+walking through warm glue. Walking on his knees.
+No, not walking, falling. At last. He was able to let go
+and fall.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2>
+
+
+<p>Ihjel gave the doctors exactly one day before he
+went to the hospital. Brion wasn't dead, though there
+had been some doubt about that the night before.
+Now, a full day later, he was on the mend and that
+was all Ihjel wanted to know. He bullied and strong-armed
+his way to the new Winner's room, meeting
+his first stiff resistance at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"You're out of order, Winner Ihjel," the doctor said.
+"And if you keep on forcing yourself in here, where
+you are not wanted, rank or no rank, I shall be
+obliged to break your head."</p>
+
+<p>Ihjel had just begun to tell him, in some detail, just
+how slim his chances were of accomplishing that,
+when Brion interrupted them both. He recognized the
+newcomer's voice from the final night in the barracks.</p>
+
+<p>"Let him in, Dr. Caulry," he said. "I want to meet a
+man who thinks there is something more important
+than the Twenties."</p>
+
+<p>While the doctor stood undecided, Ihjel moved
+quickly around him and closed the door in his
+flushed face. He looked down at the Winner in the
+bed. There was a drip plugged into each one of Brion's
+arms. His eyes peered from sooty hollows; the eyeballs
+were a network of red veins. The silent battle he
+fought against death had left its mark. His square,
+jutting jaw now seemed all bone, as did his long nose
+and high cheekbones. They were prominent landmarks
+rising from the limp greyness of his skin. Only the
+erect bristle of his close-cropped hair was unchanged.
+He had the appearance of having suffered a long and
+wasting illness.</p>
+
+<p>"You look like sin," Ihjel said. "But congratulations
+on your victory."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't look so very good yourself&mdash;for a Win<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>ner,"
+Brion snapped back. His exhaustion and sudden
+peevish anger at this man let the insulting words slip
+out. Ihjel ignored them.</p>
+
+<p>But it was true; Winner Ihjel looked very little like
+a Winner, or even an Anvharian. He had the height
+and the frame all right, but it was draped in billows
+of fat&mdash;rounded, soft tissue that hung loosely from his
+limbs and made little limp rolls on his neck and
+under his eyes. There were no fat men on Anvhar,
+and it was incredible that a man so gross could ever
+have been a Winner. If there was muscle under the
+fat it couldn't be seen. Only his eyes appeared to still
+hold the strength that had once bested every man on
+the planet to win the annual games. Brion turned
+away from their burning stare, sorry now he had
+insulted the man without good reason. He was too
+sick, though, to bother about apologizing.</p>
+
+<p>Ihjel didn't care either. Brion looked at him again
+and felt the impression of things so important that he
+himself, his insults, even the Twenties were of no
+more interest than dust motes in the air. It was only a
+fantasy of a sick mind, Brion knew, and he tried to
+shake the feeling off. The two men stared at each
+other, sharing a common emotion.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened soundlessly behind Ihjel and he
+wheeled about, moving as only an athlete of Anvhar
+can move. Dr. Caulry was halfway through the door,
+off balance. Two men in uniform came close behind
+him. Ihjel's body pushed against them, his speed and
+the mountainous mass of his flesh sending them back
+in a tangle of arms and legs. He slammed the door
+and locked it in their faces.</p>
+
+<p>"I have to talk to you," he said, turning back to
+Brion. "Privately," he added, bending over and ripping
+out the communicator with a sweep of one
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Get out," Brion told him. "If I were able&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you're not, so you're just going to have to lie
+there and listen. I imagine we have about five minutes
+before they decide to break the door down, and
+I don't want to waste any more of that. Will you
+come with me offworld? There's a job that must be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>
+done; it's my job, but I'm going to need help. You're
+the only one who can give me that help.</p>
+
+<p>"Now refuse," he added as Brion started to answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I refuse," Brion said, feeling a little
+foolish and slightly angry, as if the other man had
+put the words into his mouth. "Anvhar is my planet&mdash;why
+should I leave? My life is here and so is my
+work. I also might add that I have just won the
+Twenties. I have a responsibility to remain."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense. I'm a Winner, and I left. What you
+really mean is you would like to enjoy a little of the
+ego-inflation you have worked so hard to get. Off
+Anvhar no one even knows what a Winner is&mdash;much
+less respects one. You will have to face a big universe
+out there, and I don't blame you for being a little
+frightened."</p>
+
+<p>Someone was hammering loudly on the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't the strength to get angry," Brion said
+hoarsely. "And I can't bring myself to admire your
+ideas when they permit you to insult a man too ill to
+defend himself."</p>
+
+<p>"I apologize," Ihjel said, with no hint of apology or
+sympathy in his voice. "But there are more desperate
+issues involved than your hurt feelings. We don't
+have much time now, so I want to impress you with
+an idea."</p>
+
+<p>"An idea that will convince me to go offplanet with
+you? That's expecting a lot."</p>
+
+<p>"No, this idea won't convince you&mdash;but thinking
+about it will. If you really <i>consider</i> it you will find a
+lot of your illusions shattered. Like everyone else on
+Anvhar, you're a scientific humanist, with your faith
+firmly planted in the Twenties. You accept both of
+these noble institutions without an instant's thought.
+All of you haven't a single thought for the past, for
+the untold billions who led the bad life as mankind
+slowly built up the good life for you to lead. Do you
+ever think of all the people who suffered and died in
+misery and superstition while civilization was clicking
+forward one more slow notch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I don't think about them," Brion retorted.
+"Why should I? I can't change the past."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But you can change the future!" Ihjel said. "You
+owe something to the suffering ancestors who got you
+where you are today. If Scientific Humanism means
+anything more than just words to you, you must
+possess a sense of responsibility. Don't you want to
+try and pay off a bit of this debt by helping others
+who are just as backward and disease-ridden today
+as great-grandfather Troglodyte ever was?"</p>
+
+<p>The hammering on the door was louder. This and
+the drug-induced buzzing in Brion's ear made thinking
+difficult. "Abstractly, I of course agree with you,"
+he said haltingly. "But you know there is nothing I
+can do personally without being emotionally involved.
+A logical decision is valueless for action without personal
+meaning."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we have reached the crux of the matter,"
+Ihjel said gently. His back was braced against the
+door, absorbing the thudding blows of some heavy
+object on the outside. "They're knocking, so I must be
+going soon. I have no time for details, but I can
+assure you upon my word of honor as a Winner that
+there is something you can do. Only you. If you help
+me we might save seven million human lives. That is
+a fact."</p>
+
+<p>The lock burst and the door started to open. Ihjel
+shouldered it back into the frame for a final instant.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is the idea I want you to consider. Why is it
+that the people of Anvhar, in a galaxy filled with
+warring, hate-filled, backward planets, should be the
+only ones who base their entire existence on a complicated
+series of games?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2>
+
+
+<p>This time there was no way to hold the door. Ihjel
+didn't try. He stepped aside and two men stumbled
+into the room. He walked out behind their backs
+without saying a word.</p>
+
+<p>"What happened? What did he do?" the doctor
+asked, rushing in through the ruined door. He swept a
+glance over the continuous recording dials at the foot
+of Brion's bed. Respiration, temperature, heart, blood
+pressure&mdash;all were normal. The patient lay quietly
+and didn't answer him.</p>
+
+<p>For the rest of that day, Brion had much to think
+about. It was difficult. The fatigue, mixed with the
+tranquilizers and other drugs, had softened his contact
+with reality. His thoughts kept echoing back and
+forth in his mind, unable to escape. What had Ihjel
+meant? What was that nonsense about Anvhar?
+Anvhar was that way because&mdash;well, it just was. It
+had come about naturally. Or had it?</p>
+
+<p>The planet had a very simple history. From the
+very beginning there had never been anything of real
+commercial interest on Anvhar. Well off the interstellar
+trade routes, there were no minerals worth digging
+and transporting the immense distances to the
+nearest inhabited worlds. Hunting the winter beasts
+for their pelts was a profitable but very minor enterprise,
+never sufficient for mass markets. Therefore no
+organized attempt had ever been made to colonize
+the planet. In the end it had been settled completely
+by chance. A number of offplanet scientific groups
+had established observation and research stations,
+finding unlimited data to observe and record during
+Anvhar's unusual yearly cycle. The long-duration observations
+encouraged the scientific workers to bring
+their families and, slowly but steadily, small settlements
+grew up. Many of the fur hunters settled there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
+as well, adding to the small population. This had been
+the beginning.</p>
+
+<p>Few records existed of those early days, and the
+first six centuries of Anvharian history were more
+speculation than fact. The Breakdown occurred
+about that time, and in the galaxy-wide disruption
+Anvhar had to fight its own internal battle. When the
+Earth Empire collapsed it was the end of more than
+an era. Many of the observation stations found themselves
+representing institutions that no longer existed.
+The professional hunters no longer had markets for
+their furs, since Anvhar possessed no interstellar ships
+of its own. There had been no real physical hardship
+involved in the Breakdown as it affected Anvhar,
+since the planet was completely self-sufficient. Once
+they had made the mental adjustment to the fact
+that they were now a sovereign world, not a collection
+of casual visitors with various loyalties, life continued
+unchanged. Not easy&mdash;living on Anvhar is
+never easy&mdash;but at least without difference on the
+surface.</p>
+
+<p>The thoughts and attitudes of the people were,
+however, going through a great transformation. Many
+attempts were made to develop some form of stable
+society and social relationship. Again, little record
+exists of these early trials, other than the fact of their
+culmination in the Twenties.</p>
+
+<p>To understand the Twenties, you have to understand
+the unusual orbit that Anvhar tracks around its
+sun, 70 Ophiuchi. There are other planets in this
+system, all of them more or less conforming to the
+plane of the ecliptic. Anvhar is obviously a rogue,
+perhaps a captured planet of another sun. For the
+greatest part of its 780-day year it arcs far out from
+its primary, in a high-angled sweeping cometary orbit.
+When it returns there is a brief, hot summer of
+approximately eighty days before the long winter sets
+in once more. This severe difference in seasonal
+change has caused profound adaptations in the native
+life forms. During the winter most of the animals
+hibernate, the vegetable life lying dormant as spores
+or seeds. Some of the warm-blooded herbivores stay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
+active in the snow-covered tropics, preyed upon by
+fur-insulated carnivores. Though unbelievably cold,
+the winter is a season of peace in comparison to the
+summer.</p>
+
+<p>For summer is a time of mad growth. Plants burst
+into life with a strength that cracks rocks, growing
+fast enough for the motion to be seen. The snowfields
+melt into mud and within days a jungle stretches
+high into the air. Everything grows, swells, proliferates.
+Plants climb on top of plants, fighting for the
+life-energy of the sun. Everything is eat and be eaten,
+grow and thrive in that short season. Because
+when the first snow of winter falls again, ninety per
+cent of the year must pass until the next coming of
+warmth.</p>
+
+<p>Mankind has had to adapt to the Anvharian cycle
+in order to stay alive. Food must be gathered and
+stored, enough to last out the long winter. Generation
+after generation had adapted until they look on the
+mad seasonal imbalance as something quite ordinary.
+The first thaw of the almost nonexistent spring triggers
+a wide-reaching metabolic change in the humans.
+Layers of subcutaneous fat vanish and half-dormant
+sweat glands come to life. Other changes are more
+subtle than the temperature adjustment, but equally
+important. The sleep center of the brain is depressed.
+Short naps or a night's rest every third or
+fourth day becomes enough. Life takes on a hectic and
+hysterical quality that is perfectly suited to the environment.
+By the time of the first frost, rapid-growing
+crops have been raised and harvested, sides of meat
+either preserved or frozen in mammoth lockers. With
+this supreme talent of adaptability mankind has become
+part of the ecology and guaranteed his own
+survival during the long winter.</p>
+
+<p>Physical survival has been guaranteed. But what
+about mental survival? Primitive Earth Eskimos can
+fall into a long doze of half-conscious hibernation.
+Civilized men might be able to do this, but only for
+the few cold months of terrestrial midwinter. It
+would be impossible to do during a winter that is
+longer than an Earth year. With all the physical<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>
+needs taken care of, boredom became the enemy of
+any Anvharian who was not a hunter. And even the
+hunters could not stay out on solitary trek all winter.
+Drink was one answer, and violence another. Alcoholism
+and murder were the twin terrors of the cold
+season, after the Breakdown.</p>
+
+<p>It was the Twenties that ended all that. When they
+became a part of normal life the summer was considered
+just an interlude between games. The Twenties
+were more than just a contest&mdash;they became a way of
+life that satisfied all the physical, competitive and
+intellectual needs of this unusual planet. They were a
+decathlon&mdash;rather a double decathlon&mdash;raised to its
+highest power, where contests in chess and poetry
+composition held equal place with those in ski-jumping
+and archery. Each year there were two
+planet-wide contests held, one for men and one for
+women. This was not an attempt at sexual discrimination,
+but a logical facing of facts. Inherent differences
+prevented fair contests&mdash;for example, it is
+impossible for a woman to win a large chess tournament&mdash;and
+this fact was recognized. Anyone could
+enter for any number of years. There were no scoring
+handicaps.</p>
+
+<p>When the best man won he was really the best
+man. A complicated series of playoffs and eliminations
+kept contestants and observers busy for half the
+winter. They were only preliminary to the final encounter
+that lasted a month, and picked a single
+winner. That was the title he was awarded. Winner.
+The man&mdash;and woman&mdash;who had bested every other
+contestant on the entire planet and who would remain
+unchallenged until the following year.</p>
+
+<p>Winner. It was a title to take pride in. Brion stirred
+weakly on his bed and managed to turn so he could
+look out of the window. Winner of Anvhar. His name
+was already slated for the history books, one of the
+handful of planetary heroes. School children would
+be studying <i>him</i> now, just as he had read of the
+Winners of the past. Weaving daydreams and imaginary
+adventures around Brion's victories, hoping and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
+fighting to equal them someday. To be a Winner was
+the greatest honor in the universe.</p>
+
+<p>Outside, the afternoon sun shimmered weakly in a
+dark sky. The endless icefields soaked up the dim
+light, reflecting it back as a colder and harsher illumination.
+A single figure on skis cut a line across the
+empty plain; nothing else moved. The depression of
+the ultimate fatigue fell on Brion and everything
+changed, as if he looked in a mirror at a previously
+hidden side.</p>
+
+<p>He saw suddenly&mdash;with terrible clarity&mdash;that to be
+a Winner was to be absolutely nothing. Like being the
+best flea, among all the fleas on a single dog.</p>
+
+<p>What was Anvhar after all? An ice-locked planet,
+inhabited by a few million human fleas, unknown
+and unconsidered by the rest of the galaxy. There
+was nothing here worth fighting for; the wars after
+the Breakdown had left them untouched. The
+Anvharians had always taken pride in this&mdash;as if
+being so unimportant that no one else even wanted
+to come near you could possibly be a source of pride.
+All the other worlds of man grew, fought, won, lost,
+changed. Only on Anvhar did life repeat its sameness
+endlessly, like a loop of tape in a player....</p>
+
+<p>Brion's eyes were moist; he blinked. <i>Tears!</i> Realization
+of this incredible fact wiped the maudlin pity
+from his mind and replaced it with fear. Had his mind
+snapped in the strain of the last match? These
+thoughts weren't his. Self-pity hadn't made him a Winner&mdash;why
+was he feeling it now? Anvhar was his
+universe&mdash;how could he even imagine it as a tag-end
+planet at the outer limb of creation? What had come
+over him and induced this inverse thinking?</p>
+
+<p>As he thought the question, the answer appeared
+at the same instant. Winner Ihjel. The fat man with
+the strange pronouncements and probing questions.
+Had he cast a spell like some sorcerer&mdash;or the devil in
+<i>Faust</i>? No, that was pure nonsense. But he had done
+something. Perhaps planted a suggestion when
+Brion's resistance was low. Or used subliminal vocalization
+like the villain in <i>Cerebrus Chained</i>. Brion
+could find no adequate reason on which to base his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>
+suspicions. But he knew, with sure positiveness, that
+Ihjel was responsible.</p>
+
+<p>He whistled at the sound-switch next to his pillow
+and the repaired communicator came to life. The
+duty nurse appeared in the small screen.</p>
+
+<p>"The man who was here today," Brion said, "Winner
+Ihjel. Do you know where he is? I must contact
+him."</p>
+
+<p>For some reason this flustered her professional
+calm. The nurse started to answer, excused herself,
+and blanked the screen. When it lit again a man in
+guard's uniform had taken her place.</p>
+
+<p>"You made an inquiry," the guard said, "about
+Winner Ihjel. We are holding him here in the hospital,
+following the disgraceful way in which he broke
+into your room."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no charges to make. Will you ask him to
+come and see me at once?"</p>
+
+<p>The guard controlled his shock. "I'm sorry, Winner&mdash;I
+don't see how we can. Dr. Caulry left specific orders
+that you were not to be&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The doctor has no control over my personal life."
+Brion interrupted. "I'm not infectious, nor ill with
+anything more than extreme fatigue. I want to see
+that man. At once."</p>
+
+<p>The guard took a deep breath, and made a quick
+decision. "He is on the way up now," he said, and
+rung off.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do to me?" Brion asked as soon as
+Ihjel had entered and they were alone. "You won't
+deny that you have put alien thoughts in my head?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I won't deny it. Because the whole point of
+my being here is to get those 'alien' thoughts across to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me how you did it," Brion insisted. "I must
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you&mdash;but there are many things you should
+understand first, before you decide to leave Anvhar.
+You must not only hear them, you will have to believe
+them. The primary thing, the clue to the rest, is
+the true nature of your life here. How do you think
+the Twenties originated?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Before he answered, Brion carefully took a double
+dose of the mild stimulant he was allowed. "I don't
+think," he said; "I know. It's a matter of historical
+record. The founder of the games was Giroldi, the
+first contest was held in 378&nbsp;<small>A.B.</small> The Twenties have
+been held every year since then. They were strictly
+local affairs in the beginning, but were soon well
+established on a planet-wide scale."</p>
+
+<p>"True enough," Ihjel said. "But you're describing
+<i>what</i> happened. I asked you <i>how</i> the Twenties originated.
+How could any single man take a barbarian
+planet, lightly inhabited by half-mad hunters and
+alcoholic farmers, and turn it into a smooth-running
+social machine built around the artificial structure of
+the Twenties? It just couldn't be done."</p>
+
+<p>"But it <i>was</i> done!" Brion insisted. "You can't deny
+that. And there is nothing artificial about the Twenties.
+They are a logical way to live a life on a planet
+like this."</p>
+
+<p>Ihjel laughed, a short ironic bark. "Very logical," he
+said; "but how often does logic have anything to do
+with the organization of social groups and governments?
+You're not thinking. Put yourself in founder
+Giroldi's place. Imagine that you have glimpsed the
+great idea of the Twenties and you want to convince
+others. So you walk up to the nearest louse-ridden,
+brawling, superstitious, booze-embalmed hunter and
+explain clearly. How a program of his favorite sports&mdash;things
+like poetry, archery and chess&mdash;can make his
+life that much more interesting and virtuous. You do
+that. But keep your eyes open at the same time, and
+be ready for a fast draw."</p>
+
+<p>Even Brion had to smile at the absurdity of the
+suggestion. Of course it couldn't happen that way.
+Yet, since it had happened, there must be a simple
+explanation.</p>
+
+<p>"We can beat this back and forth all day," Ihjel
+told him, "and you won't get the right idea unless&mdash;"
+He broke off suddenly, staring at the communicator.
+The operation light had come on, though the screen
+stayed dark. Ihjel reached down a meaty hand and
+pulled loose the recently connected wires. "That doc<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>tor
+of yours is very curious&mdash;and he's going to stay
+that way. The truth behind the Twenties is none of
+his business. But it's going to be yours. You must
+come to realize that the life you lead here is a complete
+and artificial construction, developed by Societics
+experts and put into application by skilled field
+workers."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" Brion broke in. "Systems of society
+can't be dreamed up and forced on people like that.
+Not without bloodshed and violence."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, yourself," Ihjel told him. "That may
+have been true in the dawn of history, but not any
+more. You have been reading too many of the old
+Earth classics; you imagine that we still live in the
+Ages of Superstition. Just because fascism and communism
+were once forced on reluctant populations,
+you think this holds true for all time. Go back to your
+books. In exactly the same era democracy and
+self-government were adapted<!-- typo for adopted? --> by former colonial
+states, like India and the Union of North Africa, and
+the only violence was between local religious groups.
+Change is the lifeblood of mankind. Everything we
+today accept as normal was at one time an innovation.
+And one of the most recent innovations is the
+attempt to guide the societies of mankind into something
+more consistent with the personal happiness of
+individuals."</p>
+
+<p>"The God complex," Brion said; "forcing human
+lives into a mold whether they want to be fitted into
+it or not."</p>
+
+<p>"Societies can be that," Ihjel agreed. "It was in the
+beginning, and there were some disastrous results of
+attempts to force populations into a political climate
+where they didn't belong. They weren't all failures&mdash;Anvhar
+here is a striking example of how good the
+technique can be when correctly applied. It's not
+done this way any more, though. As with all of the
+other sciences, we have found out that the more we
+know, the more there is to know. We no longer
+attempt to guide cultures towards what we consider
+a beneficial goal. There are too many goals, and from
+our limited vantage point it is hard to tell the good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
+ones from the bad ones. All we do now is try to
+protect the growing cultures, give a little jolt to the
+stagnating ones&mdash;and bury the dead ones. When the
+work was first done here on Anvhar the theory hadn't
+progressed that far. The understandably complex
+equations that determine just where in the scale from
+a Type I to a Type V a culture is, had not yet been
+completed. The technique then was to work out an
+artificial culture that would be most beneficial for a
+planet, then bend it into the mold."</p>
+
+<p>"How can that be done?" Brion asked. "How was it
+done here?"</p>
+
+<p>"We've made some progress&mdash;you're finally asking
+'how.' The technique here took a good number of
+agents, and a great deal of money. Personal honor
+was emphasized in order to encourage dueling, and
+this led to a heightened interest in the technique of
+personal combat. When this was well intrenched
+Giroldi was brought in, and he showed how organized
+competitions could be more interesting than
+haphazard encounters. Tying the intellectual aspects
+onto the framework of competitive sports was a little
+more difficult, but not overwhelmingly so. The details
+aren't important; all we are considering now is
+the end product. Which is you. You're needed very
+much."</p>
+
+<p>"Why me?" Brion asked. "Why am I special? Because
+I won the Twenties? I can't believe that. Taken
+objectively, there isn't that much difference between
+myself and the ten runner-ups. Why don't you ask
+one of them? They could do your job as well as I."</p>
+
+<p>"No, they couldn't. I'll tell you later why you are
+the only man I can use. Our time is running out and
+I must convince you of some other things first." Ihjel
+glanced at his watch. "We have less than three hours
+to dead-deadline. Before that time I must explain
+enough of our work to you to enable you to decide
+voluntarily to join us."</p>
+
+<p>"A very tall order," Brion said. "You might begin by
+telling me just who this mysterious 'we' is that you
+keep referring to."</p>
+
+<p>"The Cultural Relationships Foundation. A non-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>governmental
+body, privately endowed, existing to
+promote peace and ensure the sovereign welfare of
+independent planets, so that all will prosper from the
+good will and commerce thereby engendered."</p>
+
+<p>"Sounds as if you're quoting," Brion told him. "No
+one could possibly make up something that sounds
+like that on the spur of the moment."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>was</i> quoting, from our charter of organization.
+Which is all very fine in a general sense, but I'm
+talking specifically now. About you. You are the product
+of a tightly knit and very advanced society.
+Your individuality has been encouraged by your
+growing up in a society so small in population that a
+mild form of government control is necessary. The
+normal Anvharian education is an excellent one, and
+participation in the Twenties has given you a general
+and advanced education second to none in the
+galaxy. It would be a complete waste of your entire
+life if you now took all this training and wasted it on
+some rustic farm."</p>
+
+<p>"You give me very little credit. I plan to teach&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Forget Anvhar!" Ihjel cut him off with a chop of
+his hand. "This world will roll on quite successfully
+whether you are here or not. You must forget it, think
+of its relative unimportance on a galactic scale, and
+consider instead the existing, suffering hordes of
+mankind. You must think what you can do to help
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"But what can I do&mdash;as an individual? The day is
+long past when a single man, like Caesar or Alexander,
+could bring about world-shaking changes."</p>
+
+<p>"True&mdash;but not true," Ihjel said. "There are key
+men in every conflict of forces, men who act like
+catalysts applied at the right instant to start a chemical
+reaction. You might be one of these men, but I
+must be honest and say that I can't prove it yet. So in
+order to save time and endless discussion, I think I
+will have to spark your personal sense of obligation."</p>
+
+<p>"Obligation to whom?"</p>
+
+<p>"To mankind, of course, to the countless billions of
+dead who kept the whole machine rolling along that
+allows you the full, long and happy life you enjoy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
+today. What they gave to you, you must pass on to
+others. This is the keystone of humanistic morals."</p>
+
+<p>"Agreed. And a very good argument in the long
+run. But not one that is going to tempt me out of this
+bed within the next three hours."</p>
+
+<p>"A point of success," Ihjel said. "You agree with the
+general argument. Now I apply it specifically to you.
+Here is the statement I intend to prove. There exists a
+planet with a population of seven million people.
+Unless I can prevent it, this planet will be completely
+destroyed. It is my job to stop that destruction, so
+that is where I am going now. I won't be able to do
+the job alone. In addition to others, I need you. Not
+anyone like you&mdash;but you, and you alone."</p>
+
+<p>"You have precious little time left to convince me
+of all that," Brion told him, "so let me make the job
+easier for you. The work you do, this planet, the
+imminent danger of the people there&mdash;these are all
+facts that you can undoubtedly supply. I'll take a
+chance that this whole thing is not a colossal bluff,
+and admit that given time, you could verify them all.
+This brings the argument back to me again. How can
+you possibly prove that I am the only person in the
+galaxy who can help you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can prove it by your singular ability, the thing I
+came here to find."</p>
+
+<p>"Ability? I am different in no way from the other
+men on my planet."</p>
+
+<p>"You're wrong," Ihjel said. "You are the embodied
+proof of evolution. Rare individuals with specific talents
+occur constantly in any species, man included. It
+has been two generations since an empathetic was
+last born on Anvhar, and I have been watching carefully
+most of that time."</p>
+
+<p>"What in blazes is an empathetic&mdash;and how do you
+recognize it when you have found it?" Brion
+chuckled, this talk was getting preposterous.</p>
+
+<p>"I can recognize one because I'm one myself&mdash;there
+is no other way. As to how projective empathy
+works, you had a demonstration of that a little earlier,
+when you felt those strange thoughts about
+Anvhar. It will be a long time before you can master<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>
+that, but receptive empathy is your natural trait. This
+is mentally entering into the feeling, or what could be
+called the spirit of another person. Empathy is not
+thought perception; it might better be described as
+the sensing of someone else's emotional makeup, feelings
+and attitudes. You can't lie to a trained empathetic,
+because he can sense the real attitude behind
+the verbal lies. Even your undeveloped talent has
+proved immensely useful in the Twenties. You can
+outguess your opponent because you know his movements
+even as his body tenses to make them. You
+accept this without ever questioning it."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know?" This was Brion's understood,
+but never voiced secret.</p>
+
+<p>Ihjel smiled. "Just guessing. But I won the Twenties
+too, remember, also without knowing a thing
+about empathy at the time. On top of our normal
+training, it's a wonderful trait to have. Which brings
+me to the proof we mentioned a minute ago. When
+you said you would be convinced if I could prove
+you were the only person who could help me. I
+<i>believe</i> you are&mdash;and that is one thing I cannot lie
+about. It's possible to lie about a belief verbally, to
+have a falsely based belief, or to change a belief. But
+you can't lie about it to yourself.</p>
+
+<p>"Equally important&mdash;you can't lie about a belief to
+an empathetic. Would you like to see how I feel
+about this? 'See' is a bad word&mdash;there is no vocabulary
+yet for this kind of thing. Better, would you join
+me in my feelings? Sense my attitudes, memories and
+emotions just as I do?"</p>
+
+<p>Brion tried to protest, but he was too late. The
+doors of his senses were pushed wide and he was
+overwhelmed.</p>
+
+<p>"Dis ..." Ihjel said aloud. "Seven million people ...
+hydrogen bombs ... Brion Brandd." These were just
+key words, landmarks of association. With each one
+Brion felt the rushing wave of the other man's emotions.</p>
+
+<p>There could be no lies here&mdash;Ihjel was right in
+that. This was the raw stuff that feelings are made of,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
+the basic reactions to the things and symbols of memory.</p>
+
+<p style="margin-bottom: 0em;">
+DIS ... DIS ... DIS ... it was a word it was a
+planet and the word thundered </p>
+<p style="text-align:center; margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em;">
+like a drum a drum the sound <br />
+of its thunder surrounded and <br />
+was a wasteland a planet<br />
+of death a planet where<br />
+living was dying and<br />
+dying was very<br />
+better than<br />
+living</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width:43%;">
+<div class="figright" style="width:13em;">
+<span class="i6">crude barbaric<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">backward miserable<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">dirty beneath<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">consideration<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">planet</span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width:43%;">
+<div class="figleft" style="width:13em;">
+<span class="i8">hot burning scorching<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">wasteland of sands<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">and sands and sands and<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">sands that burned had<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">burned will burn forever<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the people of this planet so<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">crude dirty miserable barbaric<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">sub-human in-human<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">less-than-human</span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p style="font-size:200%; text-align:center; margin-top: 0em; text-indent: 0em;">
+DIS</p>
+
+<div style="clear:both; width:16em; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;">
+<span class="i4">but<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">they<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">were<br /></span>
+<span class="i16">going<br /></span>
+<span class="i21">to<br /></span>
+<span class="i24">be</span>
+</div>
+
+<p style="text-align:center;">
+<big style="font-size:200%;">DEAD</big><br />
+and DEAD they would be seven million blackened corpses<br />
+that would blacken your dreams all dreams dreams<br />
+forever because those<br />
+<em class="spaced">HYDROGEN BOMBS</em><br />
+were waiting<br />
+to kill<br />
+<span style="margin-left:10em;">them unless .. unless .. unless ..</span><br />
+you Ihjel stopped it you Ihjel (DEATH) you (DEATH)<br />
+you (DEATH) alone couldn't do it you (DEATH)<br />
+must have<br />
+BRION BRANDD wet-behind-the-ears-raw-untrained-<br />
+Brion-Brandd-to-help-you he was the only one in the<br />
+galaxy who could finish the job..................................
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As the flow of sensation died away, Brion realized
+he was sprawled back weakly on his pillows, soaked
+with sweat, washed with the memory of the raw
+emotion. Across from him Ihjel sat with his face
+bowed in his hands. When he lifted his head Brion
+saw within his eyes a shadow of the blackness he had
+just experienced.</p>
+
+<p>"Death," Brion said. "That terrible feeling of death.
+It wasn't just the people of Dis who would die. It
+was something more personal."</p>
+
+<p>"Myself," Ihjel said, and behind this simple word
+were the repeated echoes of night that Brion had
+been made aware of with his newly recognized ability.
+"My own death, not too far away. This is the
+wonderfully terrible price you must pay for your
+talent. <i>Angst</i> is an inescapable part of empathy. It is
+a part of the whole unknown field of psi phenomena
+that seems to be independent of time. Death is so
+traumatic and final that it reverberates back along
+the time line. The closer I get, the more aware of it I
+am. There is no exact feeling of date, just a rough
+location in time. That is the horror of it. I <i>know</i> I will
+die soon after I get to Dis&mdash;and long before the work
+there is finished. I know the job to be done there,
+and I know the men who have already failed at it. I
+also know you are the only person who can possibly
+complete the work I have started. Do you agree
+now? Will you come with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course," Brion said. "I'll go with you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2>
+
+
+<p>"I've never seen anyone quite as angry as that
+doctor," Brion said.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't blame him." Ihjel shifted his immense
+weight and grunted from the console, where he was
+having a coded conversation with the ship's brain. He
+hit the keys quickly, and read the answer from the
+screen. "You took away his medical moment of glory.
+How many times in his life will he have a chance to
+nurse back to rugged smiling health the triumphantly
+exhausted Winner of the Twenties?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not many, I imagine. The wonder of it is how you
+managed to convince him that you and the ship here
+could take care of me as well as his hospital could."</p>
+
+<p>"I could never convince him of that," Ihjel said.
+"But I and the Cultural Relationships Foundation
+have some powerful friends on Anvhar. I'm forced to
+admit I brought a little pressure to bear." He leaned
+back and read the course tape as it streamed out of
+the printer. "We have a little time to spare, but I
+would rather spend it waiting at the other end. We'll
+blast as soon as I have you tied down in a stasis
+field."</p>
+
+<p>The completeness of the stasis field leaves no impressions
+on the body or mind. In it there is no
+weight, no pressure, no pain&mdash;no sensation of any
+kind. Except for a stasis of very long duration, there
+is no sensation of time. To Brion's consciousness, Ihjel
+flipped the switch off with a continuation of the same
+motion that had turned it on. The ship was
+unchanged, only outside of the port was the red-shot
+blankness of jump-space.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you feel?" Ihjel asked.</p>
+
+<p>Apparently the ship was wondering the same
+thing. Its detector unit, hovering impatiently just outside
+of Brion's stasis field, darted down and settled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
+on his bare forearm. The doctor back on Anvhar had
+given the medical section of the ship's brain a complete
+briefing. A quick check of a dozen factors of
+Brion's metabolism was compared to the expected
+norm. Apparently everything was going well, because
+the only reaction was the expected injection of vitamins
+and glucose.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say I'm feeling wonderful yet," Brion answered,
+levering himself higher on the pillows. "But
+every day it's a bit better&mdash;steady progress."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so, because we have about two weeks
+before we get to Dis. Do you think you'll be back in
+shape by that time?"</p>
+
+<p>"No promises," Brion said, giving a tentative
+squeeze to one bicep. "It should be enough time,
+though. Tomorrow I start mild exercise and that will
+tighten me up again. Now&mdash;tell me more about Dis
+and what you have to do there."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not going to do it twice, so just save your
+curiosity awhile. We're heading for a rendezvous
+point now to pick up another operator. This is going
+to be a three-man team, you, me and an exobiologist.
+As soon as he is aboard I'll do a complete briefing for
+you both at the same time. What you can do now is
+get your head into the language box and start working
+on your Disan. You'll want to speak it perfectly
+by the time we touchdown."</p>
+
+<p>With an autohypno for complete recall, Brion had
+no difficulty in mastering the grammar and vocabulary
+of Disan. Pronunciation was a different matter
+altogether. Almost all the word endings were swallowed,
+muffled or gargled. The language was rich in
+glottal stops, clicks and guttural strangling sounds.
+Ihjel stayed in a different part of the ship when
+Brion used the voice mirror and analysis scope,
+claiming that the awful noises interfered with his
+digestion.</p>
+
+<p>Their ship angled through jump-space along its
+calculated course. It kept its fragile human cargo
+warm, fed them and supplied breathable air. It had
+orders to worry about Brion's health, so it did, checking
+constantly against its recorded instructions and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>
+noting his steady progress. Another part of the ship's
+brain counted microseconds with moronic fixation,
+finally closing a relay when a predetermined number
+had expired in its heart. A light flashed and a buzzer
+hummed gently but insistently.</p>
+
+<p>Ihjel yawned, put away the report he had been
+reading, and started for the control room. He shuddered
+when he passed the room where Brion was
+listening to a playback of his Disan efforts.</p>
+
+<p>"Turn off that dying brontosaurus and get strapped
+in," he called through the thin door. "We're coming to
+the point of optimum possibility and well be dropping
+back into normal space soon."</p>
+
+<p>The human mind can ponder the incredible distances
+between the stars, but cannot possibly contain
+within itself a real understanding of them. Marked
+out on a man's hand an inch is a large unit of measure.
+In interstellar space a cubical area with sides a
+hundred thousand miles long is a microscopically fine
+division. Light crosses this distance in a fraction of a
+second. To a ship moving with a relative speed far
+greater than that of light, this measuring unit is even
+smaller. Theoretically, it appears impossible to find a
+particular area of this size. Technologically, it was a
+repeatable miracle that occurred too often to even be
+interesting.</p>
+
+<p>Brion and Ihjel were strapped in when the jump-drive
+cut off abruptly, lurching them back into normal
+space and time. They didn't unstrap, but just sat
+and looked at the dimly distant pattern of stars. A
+single sun, apparently of fifth magnitude, was their
+only neighbor in this lost corner of the universe. They
+waited while the computer took enough star sights to
+triangulate a position in three dimensions, muttering
+to itself electronically while it did the countless calculations
+to find their position. A warning bell
+chimed and the drive cut on and off so quickly that
+the two acts seemed simultaneous. This happened
+again, twice, before the brain was satisfied it had
+made as good a fix as possible and flashed a NAVIGATION
+POWER OFF light. Ihjel unstrapped,
+stretched, and made them a meal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Ihjel had computed their passage time with precise
+allowances. Less than ten hours after they arrived a
+powerful signal blasted into their waiting receiver.
+They strapped in again as the NAVIGATION POWER
+ON signal blinked insistently.</p>
+
+<p>A ship had paused in flight somewhere relatively
+near in the vast volume of space. It had entered
+normal space just long enough to emit a signal of
+radio query on an assigned wave length. Ihjel's ship
+had detected this and instantly responded with a
+verifying signal. The passenger spacer had accepted
+this assurance and gracefully laid a ten-foot metal
+egg in space. As soon as this had cleared its jump
+field the parent ship vanished towards its destination,
+light years away.</p>
+
+<p>Ihjel's ship climbed up the signal it had received.
+This signal had been recorded and examined minutely.
+Angle, strength and Doppler movement were
+computed to find course and distance. A few minutes
+of flight were enough to get within range of the far
+weaker transmitter in the drop-capsule. Homing on
+this signal was so simple, a human pilot could have
+done it himself. The shining sphere loomed up, then
+vanished out of sight of the viewports as the ship
+rotated to bring the spacelock into line. Magnetic
+clamps cut in when they made contact.</p>
+
+<p>"Go down and let the bug-doctor in," Ihjel said.
+"I'll stay and monitor the board in case of trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"What do I have to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Get into a suit and open the outer lock. Most of
+the drop sphere is made of inflatable metallic foil, so
+don't bother to look for the entrance. Just cut a hole
+in it with the oversize can-opener you'll find in the
+tool box. After Dr. Morees gets aboard jettison the
+thing. Only get the radio and locator unit out first&mdash;it
+gets used again."</p>
+
+<p>The tool did look like a giant can-opener. Brion
+carefully felt the resilient metal skin that covered the
+lock entrance, until he was sure there was nothing on
+the other side. Then he jabbed the point through and
+cut a ragged hole in the thin foil. Dr. Morees boiled
+out of the sphere, knocking Brion aside.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" Brion asked.</p>
+
+<p>There was no radio on the other's suit; he couldn't
+answer. But he did shake his fist angrily. The helmet
+ports were opaque, so there was no way to tell what
+expressions went with the gesture. Brion shrugged
+and turned back to salvaging the equipment pack,
+pushing the punctured balloon free and sealing the
+lock. When pressure was pumped back to ship-normal,
+he cracked his helmet and motioned the
+other to do the same.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a pack of dirty lying dogs!" Dr. Morees
+said when the helmet came off. Brion was completely
+baffled. Dr. Lea Morees had long dark hair,
+large eyes, and a delicately shaped mouth now taut
+with anger. Dr. Morees was a woman.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you the filthy swine responsible for this atrocity?"
+Dr. Morees asked menacingly.</p>
+
+<p>"In the control room," Brion said quickly, knowing
+when cowardice was preferable to valor. "A man
+named Ihjel. There's a lot of him to hate, you can
+have a good time doing it. I just joined up myself...."
+He was talking to her back as she stormed
+from the room. Brion hurried after her, not wanting
+to miss the first human spark of interest in the trip to
+date.</p>
+
+<p>"Kidnapped! Lied to, and forced against my will!
+There is no court in the galaxy that won't give you
+the maximum sentence, and I'll scream with pleasure
+as they roll your fat body into solitary&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They shouldn't have sent a woman," Ihjel said,
+completely ignoring her words. "I asked for a highly
+qualified exobiologist for a difficult assignment.
+Someone young and tough enough to do field work
+under severe conditions. So the recruiting office sends
+me the smallest female they can find, one who'll melt
+in the first rain."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not!" Lea shouted. "Female resiliency is a
+well-known fact, and I'm in far better condition than
+the average woman. Which has nothing to do with
+what I'm telling you. I was hired for a job in the
+university on Moller's World and signed a contract to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>
+that effect. Then this bully of an agent tells me the
+contract has been changed&mdash;read subparagraph
+189-C or some such nonsense&mdash;and I'll be transhipping.
+He stuffed me into that suffocating basketball
+without a by-your-leave and they threw me overboard.
+If that is not a violation of personal privacy&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Cut a new course, Brion," Ihjel broke in. "Find the
+nearest settled planet and head us there. We have to
+drop this woman and find a man for this job. We are
+going to what is undoubtedly the most interesting
+planet an exobiologist ever conceived of, but we need
+a man who can take orders and not faint when it gets
+too hot."</p>
+
+<p>Brion was lost. Ihjel had done all the navigating
+and Brion had no idea how to begin a search like
+this.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no you don't," Lea said. "You don't get rid of
+me that easily. I placed first in my class, and most of
+the five hundred other students were male. This is
+only a man's universe because the men say so. What
+is the name of this garden planet where we are
+going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dis. I'll give you a briefing as soon as I get this
+ship on course." He turned to the controls and Lea
+slipped out of her suit and went into the lavatory to
+comb her hair. Brion closed his mouth, aware suddenly
+it had been open for a long time. "Is that what
+you call applied psychology?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Not really. She was going to go along with the job
+in the end&mdash;since she did sign the contract even if she
+didn't read the fine print&mdash;but not until she had
+exhausted her feelings. I just shortened the process
+by switching her onto the male-superiority hate. Most
+women who succeed in normally masculine fields
+have a reflexive antipathy there; they have been hit
+on the head with it so much."</p>
+
+<p>He fed the course tape into the console and scowled.
+"But there was a good chunk of truth in what I said.
+I wanted a young, fit and highly qualified biologist
+from recruiting. I never thought they would find a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
+female one&mdash;and it's too late to send her back now.
+Dis is no place for a woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" Brion asked, as Lea appeared in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"Come inside, and I'll show you both," Ihjel said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Dis," Ihjel said, consulting a thick file, "third planet
+out from its primary, Epsilon Eridani. The fourth
+planet is Nyjord&mdash;remember that, because it is going
+to be very important. Dis is a place you need a good
+reason to visit and no reason at all to leave. Too hot,
+too dry; the temperature in the temperate zones
+rarely drops below a hundred Fahrenheit. The planet
+is nothing but scorched rock and burning sand. Most
+of the water is underground and normally inaccessible.
+The surface water is all in the form of briny,
+chemically saturated swamps&mdash;undrinkable without
+extensive processing. All the facts and figures are
+here in the folder and you can study them later.
+Right now I want you just to get the idea that this
+planet is as loathsome and inhospitable as they come.
+So are the people. This is a solido of a Disan."</p>
+
+<p>Lea gasped at the three-dimensional representation
+on the screen. Not at the physical aspects of the man;
+as a biologist trained in the specialty of alien life she
+had seen a lot stranger sights. It was the man's pose,
+the expression on his face&mdash;tensed to leap, his lips
+drawn back to show all of this teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"He looks as if he wanted to kill the photographer,"
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>"He almost did&mdash;just after the picture was taken.
+Like all Disans, he has an overwhelming hatred and
+loathing of offworlders. Not without good reason,
+though. His planet was settled completely by chance
+during the Breakdown. I'm not sure of the details,
+but the overall picture is clear, since the story of their
+desertion forms the basis of all the myths and animistic
+religions on Dis.</p>
+
+<p>"Apparently there were large-scale mining operations
+carried on there once; the world is rich enough
+in minerals and mining them is very simple. But water<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>
+came only from expensive extraction processes and I
+imagine most of the food came from offworld. Which
+was good enough until the settlement was forgotten,
+the way a lot of other planets were during the Breakdown.
+All the records were destroyed in the fighting,
+and the ore carriers were pressed into military service.
+Dis was on its own. What happened to the
+people there is a tribute to the adaptation possibilities
+of homo sapiens. Individuals died, usually in enormous
+pain, but the race lived. Changed a good deal,
+but still human. As the water and food ran out and
+the extraction machinery broke down, they must
+have made heroic efforts to survive. They couldn't do
+it mechanically, but by the time the last machine
+collapsed, enough people were adjusted to the environment
+to keep the race going.</p>
+
+<p>"Their descendants are still there, completely
+adapted to the environment. Their body temperatures
+are around a hundred and thirty degrees. They
+have specialized tissue in the gluteal area for storing
+water. These are minor changes, compared to the
+major ones they have done in fitting themselves for
+this planet. I don't know the exact details, but the
+reports are very enthusiastic about symbiotic relationships.
+They assure us that this is the first time homo
+sapiens has been an active part of either commensalism
+or inquilinism other than in the role of host."</p>
+
+<p>"Wonderful!" Lea exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it?" Ihjel scowled. "Perhaps from the abstract
+scientific point of view. If you can keep notes perhaps
+you might write a book about it some time. But
+I'm not interested. I'm sure all these morphological
+changes and disgusting intimacies will fascinate you,
+Dr. Morees. But while you are counting blood types
+and admiring your thermometers, I hope you will be
+able to devote a little time to a study of the Disans'
+obnoxious personalities. We must either find out what
+makes these people tick&mdash;or we are going to have to
+stand by and watch the whole lot blown up!"</p>
+
+<p>"Going to do what!" Lea gasped. "Destroy them?
+Wipe out this fascinating genetic pool? Why?</p>
+
+<p>"Because they are so incredibly loathsome, that's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
+why!" Ihjel said. "These aboriginal hotheads have
+managed to lay their hands on some primitive cobalt
+bombs. They want to light the fuse and drop these
+bombs on Nyjord, the next planet. Nothing said or
+done can convince them differently. They demand
+unconditional surrender, or else. This is impossible
+for a lot of reasons&mdash;most important, because the
+Nyjorders would like to keep their planet for their
+very own. They have tried every kind of compromise
+but none of them works. The Disans are out to commit
+racial suicide. A Nyjord fleet is now over Dis and the
+deadline has almost expired for the surrender of the
+cobalt bombs. The Nyjord ships carry enough H-bombs
+to turn the entire planet into an atomic pile.
+That is what we must stop."</p>
+
+<p>Brion looked at the solido on the screen, trying to
+make some judgment of the man. Bare, horny feet. A
+bulky, ragged length of cloth around the waist was
+the only garment. What looked like a piece of green
+vine was hooked over one shoulder. From a plaited
+belt were suspended a number of odd devices made
+of hand-beaten metal, drilled stone and looped
+leather. The only recognizable item was a thin knife
+of unusual design. Loops of piping, flared bells,
+carved stones tied in senseless patterns of thonging
+gave the rest of the collection a bizarre appearance.
+Perhaps they had some religious significance. But the
+well-worn and handled look of most of them gave
+Brion an uneasy sensation. If they were used&mdash;what
+in the universe could they be used <i>for</i>?</p>
+
+<p>"I can't believe it," he finally concluded. "Except
+for the exotic hardware, this lowbrow looks as if he
+has sunk back into the Stone Age. I don't see how his
+kind can be any real threat to another planet."</p>
+
+<p>"The Nyjorders believe it, and that's good enough
+for me," Ihjel said. "They are paying our Cultural
+Relationships Foundation a good sum to try and prevent
+this war. Since they are our employers, we must
+do what they ask." Brion ignored this large lie, since
+it was obviously designed as an explanation for Lea.
+But he made a mental note to query Ihjel later about
+the real situation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Here are the tech reports." Ihjel dropped them on
+the table. "Dis has some spacers as well as the cobalt
+bombs&mdash;though these aren't the real threat. A tramp
+trader was picked up <i>leaving</i> Dis. It had delivered a
+jump-space launcher that can drop those bombs on
+Nyjord while anchored to the bedrock of Dis. While
+essentially a peaceful and happy people, the Nyjorders
+were justifiably annoyed at this and convinced the
+tramp's captain to give them some more information.
+It's all here. Boiled down, it gives a minimum deadline
+by which time the launcher can be set up and start
+throwing bombs."</p>
+
+<p>"When is that deadline?" Lea asked.</p>
+
+<p>"In ten more days. If the situation hasn't been
+changed drastically by then, the Nyjorders are going
+to wipe all life from the face of Dis. I assure you they
+don't want to do it. But they will drop the bombs in
+order to assure their own survival."</p>
+
+<p>"What am I supposed to do?" Lea asked, flipping
+the pages of the report. "I don't know a thing about
+nucleonics or jump-space. I'm an exobiologist, with a
+supplementary degree in anthropology. What help
+could I possibly be?"</p>
+
+<p>Ihjel looked down at her, stroking his jaw, fingers
+sunk deep into the rolls of flesh. "My faith in our
+recruiters is restored," he said. "That's a combination
+that is probably rare&mdash;even on Earth. You're as
+scrawny as an underfed chicken, but young enough
+to survive if we keep a close eye on you." He cut off
+Lea's angry protest with a raised hand. "No more
+bickering. There isn't time. The Nyjorders must have
+lost over thirty agents trying to find the bombs. Our
+foundation has had six people killed&mdash;including my
+late predecessor in charge of the project. He was a
+good man, but I think he went at this problem the
+wrong way. I think it is a cultural one, not a physical
+one."</p>
+
+<p>"Run it through again with the power turned up,"
+Lea said, frowning. "All I hear is static."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the old problem of genesis. Like Newton and
+the falling apple, Levy and the hysteresis in the warp
+field. Everything has a beginning. If we can find out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
+why these people are so hell-bent on suicide we
+might be able to change the reasons. Not that I
+intend to stop looking for the bombs or the jump-space
+generator either. We are going to try anything
+that will avert this planetary murder."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a lot brighter than you look," Lea said,
+rising and carefully stacking the sheets of the report.
+"You can count on me for complete cooperation. Now
+I'll study all this in bed if one of you overweight
+gentlemen will show me to a room with a strong lock
+on the inside of the door. Don't call me; I'll call you
+when I want breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>Brion wasn't sure how much of her barbed speech
+was humor and how much was serious, so he said
+nothing. He showed her to an empty cabin&mdash;she did
+lock the door&mdash;then looked for Ihjel. The Winner
+was in the galley adding to his girth with an immense
+gelatin dessert that filled a good-sized tureen.</p>
+
+<p>"Is she short for a native Terran?" Brion asked.
+"The top of her head is below my chin."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the norm. Earth is a reservoir of tired
+genes. Weak backs, vermiform appendixes, bad eyes.
+If they didn't have the universities and the trained
+people we need I would never use them."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you lie to her about the Foundation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because it's a secret&mdash;isn't that reason enough?"
+Ihjel rumbled angrily, scraping the last dregs from
+the bowl. "Better eat something. Build up the strength.
+The Foundation has to maintain its undercover status
+if it is going to accomplish anything. If she returns to
+Earth after this it's better that she should know nothing
+of our real work. If she joins up, there'll be time
+enough to tell her. But I doubt if she will like the
+way we operate. Particularly since I plan to drop
+some H-bombs on Dis myself&mdash;if we can't turn off the
+war."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe it!"</p>
+
+<p>"You heard me correctly. Don't bulge your eyes
+and look moronic. As a last resort I'll drop the bombs
+myself rather than let the Nyjorders do it. That
+might save them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Save them&mdash;they'd all be radiated and dead!"
+Brion's voice rose in anger.</p>
+
+<p>"Not the Disans. I want to save the Nyjorders. Stop
+clenching your fists and sit down and have some of
+this cake. It's delicious. The Nyjorders are all that
+counts here. They have a planet blessed by the laws
+of chance. When Dis was cut off from outside contact,
+the survivors turned into a gang of swampcrawling
+homicidals. It did the opposite for Nyjord.
+You can survive there just by pulling fruit off a tree.
+The population was small, educated, intelligent. Instead
+of sinking into an eternal siesta they matured
+into a vitally different society. Not mechanical&mdash;they
+weren't even using the wheel when they were rediscovered.
+They became sort of cultural specialists,
+digging deep into the philosophical aspects of interrelationship&mdash;the
+thing that machine societies never have
+had time for. Of course this was ready-made for the
+Cultural Relationships Foundation, and we have
+been working with them ever since. Not guiding so
+much as protecting them from any blows that might
+destroy this growing idea. But we've fallen down on
+the job. Nonviolence is essential to these people&mdash;they
+have vitality without needing destruction. But if
+they are forced to blow up Dis for their own survival&mdash;against
+every one of their basic tenets&mdash;their philosophy
+won't endure. Physically they'll live on, as just
+one more dog-eat-dog planet with an A-bomb for any
+of the competition who drop behind."</p>
+
+<p>"Sounds like paradise now."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be smug. It's just another worldful of people
+with the same old likes, dislikes and hatreds. But
+they are evolving a way of living together, without
+violence, that may some day form the key to mankind's
+survival. They are worth looking after. Now
+get below and study your Disan and read the reports.
+Get it all pat before we land."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Identify yourself, please." The quiet words from
+the speaker in no way appeared to coincide with
+the picture on the screen. The spacer that had
+matched their orbit over Dis had recently been a
+freighter. A quick conversion had tacked the hulking
+shape of a primary weapons turret on top of her hull.
+The black disc of the immense muzzle pointed
+squarely at them. Ihjel switched open the ship-to-ship
+communication channel.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Ihjel. Retinal pattern 490-BJ4-67&mdash;which is
+also the code that is supposed to get me through your
+blockade. Do you want to check that pattern?"</p>
+
+<p>"There will be no need, thank you. If you will turn
+on your recorder I have a message relayed to you
+from Prime-four."</p>
+
+<p>"Recording and out," Ihjel said. "Damn! Trouble
+already, and four days to blowup. Prime-four is our
+headquarters on Dis. This ship carries a cover cargo
+so we can land at the spaceport. This is probably a
+change of plan and I don't like the smell of it."</p>
+
+<p>There was something behind Ihjel's grumbling this
+time, and without conscious effort Brion could sense
+the chilling touch of the other man's <i>angst</i>. Trouble
+was waiting for them on the planet below. When the
+message was typed by the decoder Ihjel hovered
+over it, reading each word as it appeared on the
+paper. When it was finished he only snorted and
+went below to the galley. Brion pulled the message
+out of the machine and read it.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>IHJEL IHJEL IHJEL SPACEPORT LANDING
+DANGER NIGHT LANDING PREFERABLE
+COORDINATES MAP 46 J92 MN75 REMOTE
+YOUR SHIP VION WILL MEET END END END</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Dropping into the darkness was safe enough. It
+was done on instruments, and the Disans were
+thought to have no detection apparatus. The altimeter
+dials spun backwards to zero and a soft vibration
+was the only indication they had landed. All of the
+cabin lights were off except for the fluorescent glow
+of the instruments. A white-speckled grey filled the
+infra-red screen, radiation from the still warm sand
+and stone. There were no moving blips on it, not the
+characteristic shape of a shielded atomic generator.</p>
+
+<p>"We're here first," Ihjel said, opaqueing the ports
+and turning on the cabin lights. They blinked at each
+other, faces damp with perspiration.</p>
+
+<p>"Must you have the ship this hot?" Lea asked,
+patting her forehead with an already sodden kerchief.
+Stripped of her heavier clothing, she looked
+even tinier to Brion. But the thin cloth tunic&mdash;reaching
+barely halfway to her knees&mdash;concealed
+very little. Small she may have appeared to him:
+unfeminine she was not. Her breasts were full and
+high, her waist tiny enough to offset the outward
+curve of her hips.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I turn around so you can stare at the back
+too?" she asked Brion. Five days' experience had
+taught him that this type of remark was best ignored.
+It only became worse if he tried to make an intelligent
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Dis is hotter than this cabin," he said, changing
+the subject. "By raising the interior temperature we
+can at least prevent any sudden shock when we go
+out&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know the theory&mdash;but it doesn't stop me from
+sweating," she said curtly.</p>
+
+<p>"Best thing you can do is sweat." Ihjel said. He
+looked like a glistening captive balloon in shorts.
+Finishing a bottle of beer, he took another from the
+freezer. "Have a beer."</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you. I'm afraid it would dissolve the
+last shreds of tissue and my kidneys would float
+completely away. On Earth we never&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Get Professor Morees' luggage for her," Ihjel inter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>rupted.
+"Vion's coming, there's his signal. I'm sending
+this ship up before any of the locals spot it."</p>
+
+<p>When he cracked the outer port the puff of air
+struck them like the exhaust from a furnace, dry and
+hot as a tongue of flame. Brion heard Lea's gasp in
+the darkness. She stumbled down the ramp and he
+followed her slowly, careful of the weight of packs
+and equipment he carried. The sand, still hot from
+the day, burned through his boots. Ihjel came last,
+the remote-control unit in his hand. As soon as they
+were clear he activated it and the ramp slipped back
+like a giant tongue. As soon as the lock had swung
+shut, the ship lifted and drifted upwards silently
+towards its orbit, a shrinking darkness against the
+stars.</p>
+
+<p>There was just enough starlight to see the sandy
+wastes around them, as wave-filled as a petrified sea.
+The dark shape of a sand car drew up over a dune
+and hummed to a stop. When the door opened Ihjel
+stepped towards it and everything happened at once.</p>
+
+<p>Ihjel broke into a blue nimbus of crackling flame,
+his skin blackening, charred. He was dead in an instant.
+A second pillar of flame bloomed next to the
+car, and a choking scream was cut off at the moment
+it began. Ihjel died silently.</p>
+
+<p>Brion was diving even as the electrical discharges
+still crackled in the air. The boxes and packs dropped
+from him and he slammed against Lea, knocking her
+to the ground. He hoped she had the sense to stay
+there and be quiet. This was his only conscious
+thought, the rest was reflex. He was rolling over and
+over as fast as he could.</p>
+
+<p>The spitting electrical flames flared again, playing
+over the bundles of luggage he had dropped. This
+time Brion was expecting it, pressed flat on the
+ground a short distance away. He was facing the
+darkness away from the sand car and saw the brief,
+blue glow of the ion-rifle discharge. His own gun was
+in his hand. When Ihjel had given him the missile
+weapon he had asked no questions, but had just
+strapped it on. There had been no thought that he
+would need it this quickly. Holding it firmly before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>
+him in both hands, he let his body aim at the spot
+where the glow had been. A whiplash of explosive
+slugs ripped the night air. They found their target
+and something thrashed voicelessly and died.</p>
+
+<p>In the brief instant after he fired, a jarring weight
+landed on his back and a line of fire circled his
+throat. Normally he fought with a calm mind, with
+no thoughts other than of the contest. But Ihjel, a
+friend, a man of Anvhar, had died a few seconds
+before, and Brion found himself welcoming this
+physical violence and pain.</p>
+
+<p>There are many foolish and dangerous things that
+can be done, such as smoking next to high-octane
+fuel and putting fingers into electrical sockets. Just as
+dangerous, and equally deadly, is physically attacking
+a Winner of the Twenties.</p>
+
+<p>Two men hit Brion together, though this made
+very little difference. The first died suddenly as
+hands like steel claws found his neck and in a single
+spasmodic contraction did such damage to the large
+blood vessels there that they burst and tiny hemorrhages
+filled his brain. The second man had time for
+a single scream, though he died just as swiftly when
+those hands closed on his larynx.</p>
+
+<p>Running in a crouch, partially on his knuckles,
+Brion swiftly made a circle of the area, gun ready.
+There were no others. Only when he touched the
+softness of Lea's body did the blood anger seep from
+him. He was suddenly aware of the pain and fatigue,
+the sweat soaking his body and the breath rasping in
+his throat. Holstering the gun, he ran light fingers
+over her skull, finding a bruised spot on one temple.
+Her chest was rising and falling regularly. She had
+struck her head when he pushed her. It had undoubtedly
+saved her life.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting down suddenly, he let his body relax,
+breathing deeply. Everything was a little better now,
+except for the pain at his throat. His fingers found a
+thin strand on the side of his neck with a knobby
+weight on the end. There was another weight on his
+other shoulder and a thin line of pain across his neck.
+When he pulled on them both, the strangler's cord<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
+came away in his hand. It was thin fiber, strong as a
+wire. When it had been pulled around his neck it
+had sliced the surface skin and flesh like a knife,
+halted only by the corded bands of muscle below.
+Brion threw it from him, into the darkness where it
+had come from.</p>
+
+<p>He could think again, and he carefully kept his
+thoughts from the men he had killed. Knowing it was
+useless, he went to Ihjel's body. A single touch of the
+scorched flesh was enough. Behind him Lea moaned
+with returning consciousness and he hurried on to the
+sand car, stepping over the charred body outside the
+door. The driver slumped, dead, killed perhaps by
+the same strangling cord that had sunk into Brion's
+throat. He laid the man gently on the sand and closed
+the lids over the staring horror of the eyes. There was
+a canteen in the car and he brought it back to Lea.</p>
+
+<p>"My head&mdash;I've hurt my head," she said groggily.</p>
+
+<p>"Just a bruise," he reassured her. "Drink some of
+this water and you'll soon feel better. Lie back. Everything's
+over for the moment and you can rest."</p>
+
+<p>"Ihjel's dead!" Lea said with sudden shocked memory.
+"They've killed him! What's happened?" she
+tensed, tried to rise, and he pressed her back gently.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you everything. Just don't try to get up
+yet. There was an ambush and they killed Vion and
+the driver of the sand car, as well as Ihjel. Three men
+did it and they're all dead now too. I don't think
+there are any more around, but if there are I'll hear
+them coming. We're just going to wait a few minutes
+until you feel better, then we're getting out of here in
+the car."</p>
+
+<p>"Bring the ship down!" There was a thin note of
+hysteria in her voice. "We can't stay here alone. We
+don't know where to go or what to do. With Ihjel
+dead, the whole thing's spoiled. We have to get
+out...."</p>
+
+<p>There are some things that can't sound gentle, no
+matter how gently they are said. This was one of
+them. "I'm sorry, Lea, but the ship is out of our reach
+right now. Ihjel was killed with an ion gun and it
+fused the control unit into a solid lump. We must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>
+take the car and get to the city. We'll do it now. See
+if you can stand up&mdash;I'll help you."</p>
+
+<p>She rose, not saying anything, and as they walked
+towards the car a single, reddish moon cleared the
+hills behind them. In its light Brion saw a dark line
+bisecting the rear panel of the sand car. He stopped
+abruptly. "What's the matter?" Lea asked.</p>
+
+<p>The unlocked engine cover could have only one
+significance and he pushed it open, knowing in advance
+what he would see. The attackers had been
+very thorough and fast. In the short time available to
+them they had killed the driver and the car as well.
+Ruddy light shone on torn wires, ripped out connections.
+Repair would be impossible.</p>
+
+<p>"I think we'll have to walk," he told her, trying to
+keep the gloom out of his voice. "This spot is roughly
+a hundred and fifty kilometres from the city of
+Hovedstad, where we have to go. We should be able
+to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We're going to die. We can't walk anywhere. This
+whole planet is a death trap. Let's get back in the
+ship!" The shrillness of hysteria was at the edge of
+her voice, as well as a subtle slurring of sounds.</p>
+
+<p>Brion didn't try to reason with her or bother to
+explain. She had a concussion from the blow, that
+much was obvious. He had her sit and rest while he
+made what preparations he could for the long walk.</p>
+
+<p>Clothing first. With each passing minute the desert
+air was growing colder as the day's heat ebbed away.
+Lea was beginning to shiver, and he took some heavier
+clothing from her charred bag and made her pull
+it on over her light tunic. There was little else that
+was worth carrying&mdash;the canteen from the car and a
+first-aid kit he found in one of the compartments.
+There were no maps and no radio. Navigation was
+obviously done by compass on this almost featureless
+desert. The car was equipped with an electrically
+operated gyrocompass, of no use to him now. But he
+did use it to check the direction of Hovedstad, as he
+remembered it from the map, and found it lined up
+perfectly with the tracks the car had cut into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>
+sand. It had come directly from the city. They could
+find their way by back-tracking.</p>
+
+<p>Time was slipping away. He would have liked to
+bury Ihjel and the men from the car, but the night
+hours were too valuable to be wasted. The best he
+could do was put the three corpses in the car, for
+protection from the Disan animals. He locked the
+door and threw the key as far as he could into the
+blackness. Lea had slipped into a restless sleep and
+he carefully shook her awake.</p>
+
+<p>"Come," Brion said. "We have a little walking to
+do."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2>
+
+
+<p>With the cool air and firmly packed sand under
+foot, walking should have been easy. Lea spoiled
+that. The concussion seemed to have temporarily cut
+off the reasoning part of her brain, leaving a direct
+connection to her vocal cords. As she stumbled along,
+only half conscious, she mumbled all of her darkest
+fears that were better left unvoiced. Occasionally
+there was relevancy in her complaints. They would
+lose their way, never find the city, die of thirst,
+freezing, heat or hunger. Interspersed and entwined
+with these were fears from her past that still floated,
+submerged in the timeless ocean of her subconscious.
+Some Brion could understand, though he tried not to
+listen. Fears of losing credits, not getting the highest
+grade, falling behind, a woman alone in a world of
+men, leaving school, being lost, trampled among the
+nameless hordes that struggled for survival in the
+crowded city-states of Earth.</p>
+
+<p>There were other things she was afraid of that
+made no sense to a man of Anvhar. Who were the
+alkians that seemed to trouble her? Or what was
+canceri? Daydle and haydle? Who was Manstan,
+whose name kept coming up, over and over, each
+time accompanied by a little moan?</p>
+
+<p>Brion stopped and picked her up in both arms.
+With a sigh she settled against the hard width of his
+chest and was instantly asleep. Even with the additional
+weight he made better time now, and he
+stretched to his fastest, kilometre-consuming stride to
+make good use of these best hours.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere on a stretch of gravel and shelving
+rock he lost the track of the sand car. He wasted no
+time looking for it. By carefully watching the glistening
+stars rise and set he had made a good estimate of
+the geographic north. Dis didn't seem to have a pole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>
+star; however, a boxlike constellation turned slowly
+around the invisible point of the pole. Keeping this
+positioned in line with his right shoulder guided him
+on the westerly course he needed.</p>
+
+<p>When his arms began to grow tired he lowered
+Lea gently to the ground; she didn't wake. Stretching
+for an instant, before taking up his burden again,
+Brion was struck by the terrible loneliness of the
+desert. His breath made a vanishing mist against the
+stars; all else was darkness and silence. How distant
+he was from his home, his people, his planet! Even
+the constellations of the night sky were different. He
+was used to solitude, but this was a loneliness that
+touched some deep-buried instinct. A shiver that
+wasn't from the desert cold touched lightly along his
+spine, prickling at the hairs on his neck.</p>
+
+<p>It was time to go on. He shrugged the disquieting
+sensations off and carefully tied Lea into the jacket
+he had been wearing. Slung like a pack on his back,
+it made the walking easier. The gravel gave way to
+sliding dunes of sand that seemed to continue to
+infinity. It was a painful, slipping climb to the top of
+each one, then an equally difficult descent to the
+black-pooled hollow at the foot of the next.</p>
+
+<p>With the first lightening of the sky in the east he
+stopped, breath rasping in his chest, to mark his
+direction before the stars faded. One line scratched
+in the sand pointed due north, a second pointed out
+the course they should follow. When they were
+aligned to his satisfaction he washed his mouth out
+with a single swallow of water and sat on the sand
+next to the still form of the girl.</p>
+
+<p>Gold fingers of fire searched across the sky, wiping
+out the stars. It was magnificent; Brion forgot his
+fatigue in appreciation. There should be some way of
+preserving it. A quatrain would be best. Short
+enough to be remembered, yet requiring attention
+and skill to compact everything into it. He had scored
+high with his quatrains in the Twenties. This would
+be a special one. Taind, his poetry mentor, would
+have to get a copy.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you mumbling about?" Lea asked, look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>ing
+up at the craggy blackness of his profile against
+the reddening sky.</p>
+
+<p>"Poem," he said. "Shhh. Just a minute."</p>
+
+<p>It was too much for Lea, coming after the tension
+and dangers of the night. She began to laugh, laughing
+even harder when he scowled at her. Only when
+she heard the tinge of growing hysteria did she make
+an attempt to break off the laughter. The sun cleared
+the horizon, washing a sudden warmth over them.
+Lea gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Your throat's been cut! You're bleeding to death!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not really," he said, touching his fingertips lightly
+against the blood-clotted wound that circled his
+neck. "Just superficial."</p>
+
+<p>Depression sat on him as he suddenly remembered
+the battle and death of the previous night. Lea didn't
+notice his face; she was busy digging in the pack he
+had thrown down. He had to use his fingers to massage
+and force away the grimace of pain that twisted
+his mouth. Memory was more painful than the
+wound. How easily he had killed! Three men. How
+close to the surface of the civilized man the animal
+dwelled! In countless matches he had used those
+holds, always drawing back from the exertion of the
+full killing power. They were part of a game, part of
+the Twenties. Yet when his friend had been killed he
+had become a killer himself. He believed in nonviolence
+and the sanctity of life&mdash;until the first test,
+when he had killed without hesitation. More ironic
+was the fact he really felt no guilt, even now. Shock
+at the change, yes. But no more than that.</p>
+
+<p>"Lift your chin," Lea said, brandishing the antiseptic
+applicator she had found in the medicine kit. He
+lifted his chin obligingly and the liquid drew a cool,
+burning line across his neck. Antibio pills would do a
+lot more good, since the wound was completely
+clotted by now, but he didn't speak his thoughts
+aloud. For the moment Lea had forgotten herself in
+taking care of him. He put some of the antiseptic on
+her scalp bruise and she squeaked, pulling back.
+They both swallowed the pills.</p>
+
+<p>"That sun is hot already," Lea said, peeling off her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
+heavy clothing. "Let's find a nice cool cave or an
+air-cooled saloon to crawl into for the day."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think there are any here. Just sand. We
+have to walk&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know we have to walk," she interrupted.
+"There's no need for a lecture about it. You're as
+seriously cubical as the Bank of Terra. Relax. Count
+ten and start again." Lea was making empty talk
+while she listened to the memory of hysteria tittering
+at the fringes of her brain.</p>
+
+<p>"No time for that. We have to keep going." Brion
+climbed slowly to his feet after stowing everything in
+the pack. When he sighted along his marker at the
+western horizon he saw nothing to mark their course,
+only the marching dunes. He helped Lea to her feet
+and began walking slowly towards them.</p>
+
+<p>"Just hold on a second," Lea called after him.
+"Where do you think you're going?"</p>
+
+<p>"In that direction," he said, pointing. "I hoped
+there would be some landmarks, but there aren't.
+We'll have to keep on by dead reckoning. The sun
+will keep us pretty well on course. If we aren't there
+by night the stars will be a better guide."</p>
+
+<p>"All this on an empty stomach? How about breakfast?
+I'm hungry&mdash;and thirsty."</p>
+
+<p>"No food." He shook the canteen that gurgled emptily.
+It had been only partly filled when he found it.
+"The water's low and we'll need it later."</p>
+
+<p>"I need it now," she said shortly. "My mouth tastes
+like an unemptied ashtray and I'm dry as paper."</p>
+
+<p>"Just a single swallow," he said after the briefest
+hesitation. "This is all we have."</p>
+
+<p>Lea sipped at it with her eyes closed in appreciation.
+Then he sealed the top and returned it to the
+pack without taking any himself. They were sweating
+as they started up the first dune.</p>
+
+<p>The desert was barren of life; they were the only
+things moving under that merciless sun. Their shadows
+pointed the way ahead of them, and as the
+shadows shortened the heat rose. It had an intensity
+Lea had never experienced before, a physical weight
+that pushed at her with a searing hand. Her clothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>
+was sodden with perspiration, and it trickled burning
+into her eyes. The light and heat made it hard to see,
+and she leaned on the immovable strength of Brion's
+arm. He walked on steadily, apparently ignoring the
+heat and discomfort.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if those things are edible&mdash;or store
+water?" Brion's voice was a harsh rasp. Lea blinked
+and squinted at the leathery shape on the summit of
+the dune. Plant or animal, it was hard to tell. It was
+the size of a man's head, wrinkled and grey as dried-out
+leather, knobbed with thick spikes. Brion pushed
+it up with his toe and they had a brief glimpse of a
+white roundness, like a shiny taproot, going down
+into the dune. Then the thing contracted, pulling
+itself lower into the sand. At the same instant something
+thin and sharp lashed out through a fold in the
+skin, striking at Brion's boot and withdrawing. There
+was a scratch on the hard plastic, beaded with drops
+of green liquid.</p>
+
+<p>"Probably poison," he said, digging his toe into the
+sand. "This thing is too mean to fool with&mdash;without a
+good reason. Let's keep going."</p>
+
+<p>It was before noon when Lea fell down. She really
+wanted to go on, but her body wouldn't obey. The
+thin soles of her shoes were no protection against the
+burning sand and her feet were lumps of raw pain.
+Heat hammered down, poured up from the sand and
+swirled her in an oven of pain. The air she gasped in
+was molten metal that dried and cracked her mouth.
+Each pulse of her heart throbbed blood to the wound
+in her scalp until it seemed her skull would burst
+with the agony. She had stripped down to the short
+tunic&mdash;in spite of Brion's insistence that she keep her
+body protected from the sun&mdash;and that clung to her,
+soaked with sweat. She tore at it in a desperate effort
+to breathe. There was no escape from the unending
+heat.</p>
+
+<p>Though the baked sand burned torture into her
+knees and hands, she couldn't rise. It took all her
+strength not to fall further. Her eyes closed and everything
+swirled in immense circles.</p>
+
+<p>Brion, blinking through slitted eyes, saw her go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>
+down. He lifted her, and carried her again as he had
+the night before. The hot touch of her body shocked
+his bare arms. Her skin was flushed pink. The tunic
+was torn open and one pointed breast rose and fell
+unevenly with the irregularity of her breathing.
+Wiping his palm free of sweat and sand, he touched
+her skin and felt the ominous hot dryness.</p>
+
+<p>Heat-shock, all the symptoms. Dry, flushed skin, the
+ragged breathing. Her temperature rising quickly as
+her body stopped fighting the heat and succumbed.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing he could do here to protect her
+from the heat. He measured a tiny portion of the
+remaining water into her mouth and she swallowed
+convulsively. Her thin clothing was little protection
+from the sun. He could only take her in his arms and
+keep on towards the horizon. An outcropping of rock
+threw a tiny patch of shade and he walked towards
+it.</p>
+
+<p>The ground here, shielded from the direct rays of
+the sun, felt almost cool by contrast. Lea opened her
+eyes when he put her down, peering up at him
+through a haze of pain. She wanted to apologize to
+him for her weakness, but no words came from the
+dried membrane of her throat. His body above her
+seemed to swim back and forth in the heat waves,
+swaying like a tree in a high wind.</p>
+
+<p>Shock drove her eyes open, cleared her mind for an
+instant. He really was swaying. Suddenly she realized
+how much she had come to depend on the unending
+solidity of his strength&mdash;and now it was failing. All
+over his body the corded muscles contracted in
+ridges, striving to keep him erect. She saw his mouth
+pulled open by the taut cords of his neck, and the
+gaping, silent scream was more terrible than any
+sound. Then she herself screamed as his eyes rolled
+back, leaving only the empty white of the eyeballs
+staring terribly at her. He went over, back, down, like
+a felled tree, thudding heavily on the sand. Unconscious
+or dead, she couldn't tell. She pulled limply at
+his leg, but couldn't drag his immense weight into the
+shade.</p>
+
+<p>Brion lay on his back in the sun, sweating. Lea saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>
+this and knew that he was still alive. Yet what was
+happening? She groped for memory in the red haze
+of her mind, but could remember nothing from her
+medical studies that would explain this. On every
+square inch of his body the sweat glands seethed
+with sudden activity. From every pore oozed great
+globules of oily liquid, far thicker than normal perspiration.
+Brion's arms rippled with motion and Lea
+gaped, horrified as the hairs there writhed and
+stirred as though endowed with separate life. His
+chest rose and fell rapidly, deep, gasping breaths
+racking his body. Lea could only stare through the
+dim redness of unreality and wonder if she was going
+mad before she died.</p>
+
+<p>A coughing fit broke the rhythm of his rasping
+breath, and when it was over his breathing was easier.
+The perspiration still covered his body, the individual
+beads touching and forming tiny streams that
+trickled down his body and vanished in the sand. He
+stirred and rolled onto his side, facing her. His eyes
+were open and normal now as he smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't mean to frighten you. It caught me suddenly
+coming at the wrong season and everything. It
+was a bit of a jar to my system. I'll get you some
+water now&mdash;there's still a bit left."</p>
+
+<p>"What happened? When you looked like that, when
+you fell...."</p>
+
+<p>"Take two swallows, no more," he said, holding the
+open canteen to her mouth. "Just summer change,
+that's all. It happens to us every year on Anvhar&mdash;only
+not that violently, of course. In the winter our
+bodies store a layer of fat under the skin for insulation,
+and sweating almost ceases completely. There
+are a lot of internal changes too. When the weather
+warms up the process is reversed. The fat is metabolized
+and the sweat glands enlarge and begin working
+overtime as the body prepares for two months of
+hard work, heat and little sleep. I guess the heat here
+triggered off the summer change early."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;you've adapted to this terrible
+planet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just about. Though it does feel a little warm. I'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
+need a lot more water soon, so we can't remain here.
+Do you think you can stand the sun if I carry you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but I won't feel any better staying here." She
+was light-headed, scarcely aware of what she said.
+"Keep going, I guess. Keep going."</p>
+
+<p>As soon as she was out of the shadow of the rock
+the sunlight burst over her again in a wave of hot
+pain. She fell unconscious at once. Brion picked her
+up and staggered forward. After a few yards, he
+began to feel the pull of the sand. He knew he was
+reaching the end of his strength. He went more slowly
+and each dune seemed a bit higher than the one
+before. Giant, sand-scoured rocks pushed through the
+dunes here and he had to stumble around them. At
+the base of the largest of these monoliths was a
+straggling clump of knotted vegetation. He passed it
+by&mdash;then stopped as something tried to penetrate his
+heat-crazed mind. What was it? A difference. Something
+about these plants that he hadn't noticed in
+any of the others he had passed during the day.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost like defeat to turn and push his
+clumsy feet backwards in his own footprints; to stand
+blinking helplessly at the plants. Yet they were important.
+Some of them had been cut off close to the
+sand. Not broken by any natural cause, but cut
+sharply and squarely by a knife or blade of some
+sort. The cut plants were long dried and dead, but a
+tiny hope flared up in him. This was the first sign
+that other people were actually alive on this heat-blasted
+planet. And whatever the plants had been
+cut for, they might be of aid to him. Food&mdash;perhaps
+drink. His hands trembled at the thought as he
+dropped Lea heavily into the shade of the rock. She
+didn't stir.</p>
+
+<p>His knife was sharp, but most of the strength was
+gone from his hands. Breath rasping in his dried
+throat, he sawed at the tough stem, finally cutting it
+through. Raising up the shrub, he saw a thick liquid
+dripping from the severed end. He braced his hand
+against his leg, so it wouldn't shake and spill, until his
+cupped palm was full of sap.</p>
+
+<p>It was wet, even a little cool as it evaporated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>
+Surely it was mostly life-giving water. He had a
+moment's misgiving as he raised it to his lips, and
+instead of drinking it merely touched it with the tip
+of his tongue.</p>
+
+<p>At first nothing&mdash;then a searing pain. It stabbed deep
+into his throat and choked him. His stomach heaved
+and he vomited bitter bile. On his knees, fighting the
+waves of pain, he lost body fluid he vitally needed.</p>
+
+<p>Despair was worse than the pain. The plant juice
+must have some use; there must be a way of purifying
+it or neutralizing it. But Brion, a stranger on this
+planet, would be dead long before he found out how
+to do this.</p>
+
+<p>Weakened by the cramps that still tore at him, he
+tried not to realize how close to the end he was.
+Getting the girl on his back seemed an impossible
+task, and for an instant he was tempted to leave her
+there. Yet even as he considered this he shouldered
+her leaden weight and once more went on. Each
+footstep an effort, he followed his own track up the
+dune. Painfully he forced his way to the top, and
+looked at the Disan standing a few feet away.</p>
+
+<p>They were both too surprised by the sudden encounter
+to react at once. For a breath of time they
+stared at each other, unmoving. When they reacted it
+was the same defense of fear. Brion dropped the girl,
+bringing the gun up from the holster in the return of
+the same motion. The Disan jerked a belled tube
+from his waistband and raised it to his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Brion didn't fire. A dead man had taught him how
+to train his empathetic sense, and to trust it. In spite
+of the fear that wanted him to jerk the trigger, a
+different sense read the unvoiced emotions of the
+native Disan. There was fear there, and hatred. Welling
+up around these was a strong desire not to commit
+violence, this time, to communicate instead.
+Brion felt and recognized all this in a fraction of a
+second. He had to act instantly to avoid a tragic
+happening. A jerk of his wrist threw the gun to one
+side.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as it was gone he regretted its loss. He was
+gambling their lives on an ability he still was not sure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>
+of. The Disan had the tube to his mouth when the
+gun hit the ground. He held the pose, unmoving,
+thinking. Then he accepted Brion's action and thrust
+the tube back into his waistband.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you have any water?" Brion asked, the guttural
+Disan words hurting his throat.</p>
+
+<p>"I have water," the man said. He still didn't move.
+"Who are you? What are you doing here?"</p>
+
+<p>"We're from offplanet. We had ... an accident. We
+want to go to the city. The water."</p>
+
+<p>The Disan looked at the unconscious girl and made
+his decision. Over one shoulder he wore one of the
+green objects that Brion remembered from the solido.
+He pulled it off and the thing writhed slowly in his
+hands. It was alive&mdash;a green length a metre long, like
+a noduled section of a thick vine. One end flared out
+into a petal-like formation. The Disan took a hook-shaped
+object from his waist and thrust it into the
+petaled orifice. When he turned the hook in a quick
+motion the length of green writhed and curled
+around his arm. He pulled something small and dark
+out and threw it to the ground, extending the twisting
+green shape towards Brion. "Put your mouth to the end
+and drink," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Lea needed the water more, but he drank first,
+suspicious of the living water source. A hollow below
+the writhing petals was filling with straw-colored
+water from the fibrous, reedy interior. He raised it to
+his mouth and drank. The water was hot and tasted
+swampy. Sudden sharp pains around his mouth made
+him jerk the thing away. Tiny glistening white barbs
+projected from the petals pink-tipped now with his
+blood. Brion swung towards the Disan angrily&mdash;and
+stopped when he looked at the other man's face. His
+mouth was surrounded by many small white scars.</p>
+
+<p>"The <i>vaede</i> does not like to give up its water, but
+it always does," the man said.</p>
+
+<p>Brion drank again, then put the vaede to Lea's
+mouth. She moaned without regaining consciousness,
+her lips seeking reflexively for the life-saving liquid.
+When she was satisfied Brion gently drew the barbs
+from her flesh and drank again. The Disan hunkered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
+down on his heels and watched them expressionlessly.
+Brion handed back the vaede, then held some of
+the clothes so that Lea was in their shade. He settled
+to the same position as the native and looked closely
+at him.</p>
+
+<p>Squatting immobile on his heels, the Disan appeared
+perfectly comfortable under the flaming sun.
+There was no trace of perspiration on his naked,
+browned skin. Long hair fell to his shoulders, and
+startlingly blue eyes stared back at Brion from deepset
+sockets. The heavy kilt around his loins was the
+only garment he wore. Once more the vaede rested
+over his shoulder, still stirring unhappily. Around his
+waist was the same collection of leather, stone and
+brass objects that had been in the solido. Two of them
+now had meaning to Brion: the tube-and-mouthpiece,
+a blowgun of some kind; and the specially shaped
+hook for opening the vaede. He wondered if the other
+strangely formed things had equally practical functions.
+If you accepted them as artifacts with a purpose&mdash;not
+barbaric decorations&mdash;you had to accept
+their owner as something more than the crude savage
+he resembled.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Brion. And you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You may not have my name. Why are you here?
+To kill my people?"</p>
+
+<p>Brion forced away the memory of last night. Killing
+was just what he had done. Some expectancy in
+the man's manner, some sensed feeling of hope
+prompted Brion to speak the truth.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm here to stop your people from being killed. I
+believe in the end of the war."</p>
+
+<p>"Prove it."</p>
+
+<p>"Take me to the Cultural Relationships Foundations
+in the city and I'll prove it. I can do nothing
+here in the desert. Except die."</p>
+
+<p>For the first time there was emotion on the Disan's
+face. He frowned and muttered something to himself.
+There was a fine beading of sweat above his eyebrows
+now as he fought an internal battle. Coming to
+a decision, he rose, and Brion stood too.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Come with me. I'll take you to Hovedstad. But first
+you will tell me&mdash;are you from Nyjord?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>The nameless Disan merely grunted and turned
+away. Brion shouldered Lea's unconscious body and
+followed him. They walked for two hours, the Disan
+setting a cruel pace, before they reached a wasteland
+of jumbled rock. The native pointed to the highest
+tower of sand-eroded stone. "Wait near this," he said.
+"Someone will come for you." He watched while
+Brion placed the girl's still body in the shade, and
+passed over the vaede for the last time. Just before
+leaving he turned back, hesitating.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is ... Ulv," he said. Then he was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Brion did what he could to make Lea comfortable,
+but it was very little. If she didn't get medical attention
+soon she would be dead. Dehydration and shock
+were uniting to destroy her.</p>
+
+<p>Just before sunset he heard clanking, and the
+throbbing whine of a sand car's engine coming from
+the west.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>With each second the noise grew louder, coming
+their way. The tracks squeaked as the car turned
+around the rock spire, obviously seeking them out. A
+large carrier, big as a truck, it stopped before them in
+a cloud of its own dust and the driver kicked the
+door open.</p>
+
+<p>"Get in here&mdash;and fast!" the man shouted. "You're
+letting in all the heat." He gunned the engine, ready
+to kick in the gears, and looked at them irritatedly.</p>
+
+<p>Ignoring the driver's nervous instructions, Brion
+carefully placed Lea on the rear seat before he
+pulled the door shut. The car surged forward instantly,
+a blast of icy air pouring from the air-cooling
+vents. It wasn't cold in the vehicle&mdash;but the temperature
+was at least forty degrees lower than the outer
+air. Brion covered Lea with all their extra clothing to
+prevent any further shock to her system. The driver,
+hunched over the wheel and driving with an intense
+speed, hadn't said a word to them since they had
+entered.</p>
+
+<p>Brion looked up as another man stepped from the
+engine compartment in the rear of the car. He was
+thin, harried-looking. And he was pointing a gun.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" he said, without a trace of warmth
+in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>It was a strange reception, but Brion was beginning
+to realize that Dis was a strange planet. The
+other man chewed at his lip nervously while Brion
+sat, relaxed and unmoving. He didn't want to startle
+him into pulling the trigger, and he kept his voice
+pitched low as he answered.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Brandd. We landed from space two
+nights ago and have been walking in the desert ever
+since. Now don't get excited and shoot the gun when
+I tell you this&mdash;but both Vion and Ihjel are dead."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The man with the gun gasped, his eyes widened.
+The driver threw a single frightened look over his
+shoulder, then turned quickly back to the wheel.
+Brion's probe had hit its mark. If these men weren't
+from the Cultural Relationships Foundation they at
+least knew a lot about it. It seemed safe to assume
+they were C.R.F. men.</p>
+
+<p>"When they were shot the girl and I escaped. We
+were trying to reach the city and contact you. You are
+from the Foundation, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Of course," the man said, lowering the gun.
+He stared glassy-eyed into space for a moment, nervously
+working his teeth against his lip. Startled at
+his own inattention, he raised the gun again.</p>
+
+<p>"If you're Brandd, there's something I want to
+know." Rummaging in his breast pocket with his free
+hand, he brought out a yellow message form. He
+moved his lips as he reread the message. "Now answer
+me&mdash;if you can&mdash;what are the last three events
+in the ..." He took a quick look at the paper again.
+"... in the Twenties?"</p>
+
+<p>"Chess finals, rifle prone position, and fencing
+playoffs. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>The man grunted and slid the pistol back into its
+holder, satisfied. "I'm Faussel," he said, and waved
+the message at Brion. "This is Ihjel's last will and
+testament, relayed to us by the Nyjord blockade control.
+He thought he was going to die and he sure was
+right. Passed on his job to you. You're in charge. I
+was Mervv's second-in-command, until he was poisoned.
+I was supposed to work for Ihjel, and now I
+guess I'm yours. At least until tomorrow, when we'll
+have everything packed and get off this hell planet."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean, tomorrow?" Brion asked. "It's
+three days to deadline and we still have a job to do."</p>
+
+<p>Faussel had dropped heavily into one of the seats
+and he sprang to his feet again, clutching the seat
+back to keep his balance in the swaying car.</p>
+
+<p>"Three days, three weeks, three minutes&mdash;what
+difference does it make?" His voice rose shrilly with
+each word, and he had to make a definite effort to
+master himself before he could go on. "Look. You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>
+don't know anything about this. You just arrived and
+that's your bad luck. My bad luck is being assigned
+to this death trap and watching the depraved and
+filthy things the natives do. And trying to be polite to
+them even when they are killing my friends, and
+those Nyjord bombers up there with their hands on
+the triggers. One of those bombardiers is going to
+start thinking about home and about the cobalt
+bombs down here and he's going to press that button,
+deadline or no deadline."</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, Faussel. Sit down and take a rest."
+There was sympathy in Brion's voice&mdash;but also the
+firmness of an order. Faussel swayed for a second
+longer, then collapsed. He sat with his cheek against
+the window, eyes closed. A pulse throbbed visibly in
+his temple and his lips worked. He had been under
+too much tension for too long a time.</p>
+
+<p>This was the atmosphere that hung heavily in the
+air at the C.R.F. building when they arrived. Despair
+and defeat. The doctor was the only one who didn't
+share this mood as he bustled Lea off to the clinic
+with prompt efficiency. He obviously had enough patients
+to keep his mind occupied. With the others the
+feeling of depression was unmistakable. From the
+instant they had driven through the automatic garage
+door, Brion had swum in this miasma of defeat. It
+was omnipresent and hard to ignore.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as he had eaten he went with Faussel into
+what was to have been Ihjel's office. Through the
+transparent walls he could see the staff packing the
+records, crating them for shipment. Faussel seemed
+less nervous now that he was no longer in command.
+Brion rejected any idea he had of letting the man
+know that he himself was only a novice in the foundation.
+He was going to need all the authority he
+could muster, since they would undoubtedly hate him
+for what he was going to do.</p>
+
+<p>"Better take notes of this, Faussel, and have it
+typed. I'll sign it." The printed word always carried
+more weight. "All preparations for leaving are to be
+stopped at once. Records are to be returned to the
+files. We are going to stay here just as long as we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
+have clearance from the Nyjorders. If this operation
+is unsuccessful we will all leave together when the
+time expires. We will take whatever personal baggage
+we can carry by hand; everything else stays
+here. Perhaps you don't realize we are here to save a
+planet&mdash;not file cabinets full of papers."</p>
+
+<p>Out of the corner of his eye he saw Faussel flush
+with anger. "As soon as that is typed bring it back.
+And all the reports as to what has been accomplished
+on this project. That will be all for now."</p>
+
+<p>Faussel stamped out, and a minute later Brion saw
+the shocked, angry looks from the workers in the
+outer office. Turning his back to them, he opened the
+drawers in the desk, one after another. The top
+drawer was empty, except for a sealed envelope. It
+was addressed to Winner Ihjel.</p>
+
+<p>Brion looked at it thoughtfully, then ripped it
+open. The letter inside was handwritten.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p style="text-indent: 0;"><i>Ihjel:</i></p>
+
+<p><i>I've had the official word that you are on the way to relieve
+me and I am forced to admit I feel only an intense
+satisfaction. You've had the experience on these outlaw
+planets and can get along with the odd types. I have been
+specializing in research for the last twenty years, and the
+only reason I was appointed planetary supervisor on Nyjord
+was because of the observation and application
+facilities. I'm the research type, not the office type; no one
+has ever denied that.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>You're going to have trouble with the staff, so you had
+better realize that they are all compulsory volunteers. Half
+are clerical people from my staff. The others a mixed bag
+of whoever was close enough to be pulled in on this crash
+assignment. It developed so fast we never saw it coming.
+And I'm afraid we've done little or nothing to stop it. We
+can't get access to the natives here, not in the slightest.
+It's frightening! They don't fit! I've done Poisson Distributions
+on a dozen different factors and none of them can
+be equated. The Pareto Extrapolations don't work. Our
+field men can't even talk to the natives and two have been
+killed trying. The ruling class is unapproachable and the
+rest just keep their mouths shut and walk away.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>I'm going to take a chance and try to talk to Lig-magte,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
+perhaps I can make him see sense. I doubt if it will work
+and there is a chance he will try violence with me. The
+nobility here are very prone to violence. If I get back all
+right you won't see this note. Otherwise&mdash;good-by, Ihjel.
+Try to do a better job than I did.</i></p>
+
+<p style="text-align: right; margin-right: 3em;">
+<i>Aston Mervv</i><br />
+</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent: 0;"><i>P.S. There is a problem with the staff. They are supposed
+to be saviors, but without exception they all loathe the
+Disans. I'm afraid I do too.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>Brion ticked off the relevant points in the letter. He
+had to find some way of discovering what Pareto
+Extrapolations were&mdash;without uncovering his own
+lack of knowledge. The staff would vanish in five
+minutes if they knew how new he was at the job.
+Poisson Distribution made more sense. It was used in
+physics as the unchanging probability of an event
+that would be true at all times. Such as the numbers
+of particles that would be given off by a lump of
+radioactive matter during a short period. From the
+way Mervv used it in his letter it looked as if the
+societics people had found measurable applications in
+societies and groups. At least on other planets. None
+of the rules seemed to be working on Dis. Ihjel had
+admitted that, and Mervv's death had proven it.
+Brion wondered who this Lig-magte was who appeared
+to have killed Mervv.</p>
+
+<p>A forged cough broke through Brion's concentration,
+and he realized that Faussel had been standing
+in front of his desk for some minutes. Brion looked up
+and mopped perspiration from his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Your air conditioner seems to be out of order,"
+Faussel said. "Should I have the mechanic look at
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing wrong with the machine; I'm just
+adapting to Dis's climate. What else do you want,
+Faussel?"</p>
+
+<p>The assistant had a doubting look that he didn't
+succeed in hiding. He also had trouble believing the
+literal truth. He placed the small stack of file folders
+on the desk.</p>
+
+<p>"These are the reports to date, everything we have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
+uncovered about the Disans. It's not very much; but
+considering the anti-social attitudes on this lousy
+world it is the best we could do." A sudden thought
+hit him, and his eyes narrowed slyly. "It can't be
+helped, but some of the staff have been wondering
+out loud about that native that contacted us. How did
+you get him to help you? We've never gotten to first
+base with these people, and as soon as you land you
+have one working for you. You can't stop people from
+thinking about it, you being a newcomer and a
+stranger. After all, it looks a little odd&mdash;" He broke off
+in midsentence as Brion looked at him in cold fury.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't stop people from thinking about it&mdash;but I
+can stop them from talking. Our job is to contact the
+Disans and stop this suicidal war. I have done more
+in one day than you all have done since you arrived.
+I have accomplished this because I am better at my
+work than the rest of you. That is all the information
+any of you are going to receive. You are dismissed."</p>
+
+<p>White with anger, Faussel turned on his heel and
+stamped out&mdash;to spread the word about what a slave-driver
+the new director was. They would then all
+hate him passionately, which was just the way he
+wanted it. He couldn't risk exposure as the tyro he
+was. And perhaps a new emotion, other than disgust
+and defeat, might jar them into a little action. They
+certainly couldn't do any worse than they had been
+doing.</p>
+
+<p>It was a tremendous amount of responsibility. For
+the first time since setting foot on this barbaric planet
+Brion had time to stop and think. He was taking an
+awful lot upon himself. He knew nothing about this
+world, nor about the powers involved in the conflict.
+Here he sat pretending to be in charge of an organization
+he had first heard about only a few weeks
+earlier. It was a frightening situation. Should he slide
+out from under?</p>
+
+<p>There was just one possible answer, and that was
+<i>no</i>. Until he found someone else who could do better,
+he seemed to be the one best suited for the job. And
+Ihjel's opinion had to count for something. Brion had
+felt the surety of the man's conviction that Brion was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
+the only one who might possibly succeed in this
+difficult spot.</p>
+
+<p>Let it go at that. If he had any qualms it would be
+best to put them behind him. Aside from everything
+else, there was a primary bit of loyalty involved. Ihjel
+had been an Anvharian and a Winner. Maybe it was
+a provincial attitude to hold in this big universe&mdash;Anvhar
+was certainly far enough away from here&mdash;but
+honor is very important to a man who must stand
+alone. He had a debt to Ihjel, and he was going to
+pay it off.</p>
+
+<p>Once the decision had been made, he felt easier.
+There was an intercom on the desk in front of him
+and he leaned with a heavy thumb on the button
+labeled <i>Faussel</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" Even through the speaker the man's voice
+was cold with ill-concealed hatred.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Lig-magte? And did the former director
+ever return from seeing him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Magte is a title that means roughly noble or lord.
+Lig-magte is the local overlord. He has an ugly
+stoneheap of a building just outside the city. He
+seems to be the mouthpiece for the group of magter
+that are pushing this idiotic war. As to your second
+question, I have to answer yes and no. We found
+Director Mervv's head outside the door next morning
+with all the skin gone. We knew who it was because
+the doctor identified the bridgework in his mouth.
+<i>Do you understand?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>All pretense of control had vanished, and Faussel
+almost shrieked the last words. They were all close to
+cracking up, if he was any example. Brion broke in
+quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"That will be all, Faussel. Just get word to the
+doctor that I would like to see him as soon as I can."
+He broke the connection and opened the first of the
+folders. By the time the doctor called he had
+skimmed the reports and was reading the relevant
+ones in greater detail. Putting on his warm coat, he
+went through the outer office. The few workers still
+on duty turned their backs in frigid silence.</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Stine had a pink and shiny bald head that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>
+rose above a thick black beard. Brion had liked him
+at once. Anyone with enough firmness of mind to
+keep a beard in this climate was a pleasant exception
+after what he had met so far.</p>
+
+<p>"How's the new patient, Doctor?"</p>
+
+<p>Stine combed his beard with stubby fingers before
+answering. "Diagnosis: heat-syncope. Prognosis: complete
+recovery. Condition fair, considering the dehydration
+and extensive sunburn. I've treated the
+burns, and a saline drip is taking care of the other.
+She just missed going into heat-shock. I have her
+under sedation now."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to have her up and helping me tomorrow
+morning. Could she do this&mdash;with stimulants or
+drugs?"</p>
+
+<p>"She could&mdash;but I don't like it. There might be side
+factors, perhaps long-standing debilitation. It's a
+chance."</p>
+
+<p>"A chance we will have to take. In less than seventy
+hours this planet is due for destruction. In attempting
+to avert that tragedy I'm expendable, as is everyone
+else here. Agreed?"</p>
+
+<p>The doctor grunted deep in his beard and looked
+Brion's immense frame up and down. "Agreed," he
+said, almost happily. "It is a distinct pleasure to see
+something beside black defeat around here. I'll go
+along with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you can help me right now. I checked the
+personnel roster and discovered that out of the twenty-eight
+people working here there isn't a physical
+scientist of any kind&mdash;other than yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"A scruffy bunch of button-pushers and theoreticians.
+Not worth a damn for field work, the whole
+bunch of them!" The doctor toed the floor switch on
+a waste receptacle and spat into it with feeling.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'm going to depend on you for some
+straight answers," Brion said. "This is an un-standard
+operation, and the standard techniques just don't begin
+to make sense. Even Poisson Distributions and
+Pareto Extrapolations don't apply here." Stine nodded
+agreement and Brion relaxed a bit. He had just relieved
+himself of his entire knowledge of societics,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
+and it had sounded authentic. "The more I look at
+it the more I believe that this is a physical problem,
+something to do with the exotic and massive adjustments
+the Disans have made to this hellish environment.
+Could this tie up in any way with their
+absolutely suicidal attitude towards the cobalt bombs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Could it? Could it?" Dr. Stine paced the floor
+rapidly on his stocky legs, twining his fingers behind
+his back. "You are bloody well right it could. Someone
+is thinking at last and not just punching bloody
+numbers into a machine and sitting and scratching
+his behind while waiting for the screen to light up
+with the answers. Do you know how Disans exist?"
+Brion shook his head. "The fools here think it disgusting
+but I call it fascinating. They have found ways
+to join a symbiotic relationship with the life forms on
+this planet. Even a parasitic relationship. You must
+realize that living organisms will do anything to survive.
+Castaways at sea will drink their own urine in
+their need for water. Disgust at this is only the attitude
+of the overprotected who have never experienced
+extreme thirst or hunger. Well, here on Dis
+you have a planet of castaways."</p>
+
+<p>Stine opened the door of the pharmacy. "This talk
+of thirst makes me dry." With economically efficient
+motions he poured grain alcohol into a beaker, thinned
+it with distilled water and flavored it with some crystals
+from a bottle. He filled two glasses and handed
+Brion one. It didn't taste bad at all.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by parasitic, Doctor? Aren't
+we all parasites of the lower life forms? Meat animals,
+vegetables and such?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no&mdash;you miss the point! I speak of parasitic in
+the exact meaning of the word. You must realize that
+to a biologist there is no real difference between
+parasitism, symbiosis, mutualism, biontergasy, commensalism&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop, stop!" Brion said. "Those are just meaningless
+sounds to me. If that is what makes this
+planet tick I'm beginning to see why the rest of the
+staff has that lost feeling."</p>
+
+<p>"It is just a matter of degree of the same thing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>
+Look. You have a kind of crustacean living in the
+lakes here, very much like an ordinary crab. It has
+large claws in which it holds anemones, tentacled sea
+animals with no power of motion. The crustacean
+waves these around to gather food, and eats the
+pieces they capture that are too big for them. This is
+biontergasy, two creatures living and working together,
+yet each capable of existing alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, this same crustacean has a parasite living
+under its shell, a degenerated form of a snail that has
+lost all powers of movement. A true parasite that
+takes food from its host's body and gives nothing in
+return. Inside this snail's gut there is a protozoan that
+lives off the snail's ingested food. Yet this little organism
+is not a parasite, as you might think at first, but a
+symbiote. It takes food from the snail, but at the
+same time it secretes a chemical that aids the snail's
+digestion of the food. Do you get the picture? All
+these life forms exist in a complicated interdependence."</p>
+
+<p>Brion frowned in concentration, sipping at the
+drink. "It's making some kind of sense now. Symbiosis,
+parasitism and all the rest are just ways of
+describing variations of the same basic process of
+living together. And there is probably a grading and
+shading between some of these that make the exact
+relationship hard to define."</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely. Existence is so difficult on this world
+that the competing forms have almost died out.
+There are still a few left, preying off the others. It
+was the cooperating and interdependent life forms
+that really won out in the race for survival. I say life
+forms with intent. The creatures here are mostly a
+mixture of plant and animal, like the lichens you
+have elsewhere. The Disans have a creature they call
+a "vaede" that they use for water when traveling. It
+has rudimentary powers of motion from its animal
+part, yet uses photosynthesis and stores water like a
+plant. When the Disans drink from it the thing taps
+their blood streams for food elements."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," Brion said wryly. "I drank from one. You
+can see my scars. I'm beginning to comprehend how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
+the Disans fit into the physical pattern of their world,
+and I realize it must have all kinds of psychological
+effects on them. Do you think this has any effect on
+their social organization?"</p>
+
+<p>"An important one. But maybe I'm making too
+many suppositions now. Perhaps your researchers upstairs
+can tell you better; after all, this is their field."</p>
+
+<p>Brion had studied the reports on the social setup
+and not one word of them made sense. They were a
+solid maze of unknown symbols and cryptic charts.
+"Please continue, Doctor," he insisted. "The societics
+reports are valueless so far. There are factors missing.
+You are the only one I have talked to so far who can
+give me any intelligent reports or answers."</p>
+
+<p>"All right then&mdash;be it on your own head. The way I
+see it, you've got no society here at all, just a bunch
+of rugged individualists. Each one for himself, getting
+nourishment from the other life forms of the planet.
+If they have a society, it is orientated towards the
+rest of the planetary life&mdash;instead of towards other
+human beings. Perhaps that's why your figures don't
+make sense. They are set up for the human societies.
+In their relations with each other, these people are
+completely different."</p>
+
+<p>"What about the magter, the upper-class types who
+build castles and are causing all this trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no explanation," Dr. Stine admitted. "My
+theories hold water and seem logical enough up to
+this point. But the magter are the exception, and I
+have no idea why. They are completely different
+from the rest of the Disans. Argumentative, blood-thirsty,
+looking for planetary conquest instead of
+peace. They aren't rulers, not in the real sense. They
+hold power because nobody else wants it. They grant
+mining concessions to offworlders because they are
+the only ones with a sense of property. Maybe I'm
+going out on a limb. But if you can find out <i>why</i> they
+are so different you may be onto the clue to our
+difficulties."</p>
+
+<p>For the first time since his arrival Brion began to
+feel a touch of enthusiasm. Plus a sense of the remote<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
+possibility that there might even be a solution to the
+deadly problem. He drained his glass and stood up.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you'll wake your patient early, Doctor. You
+might be as interested in talking to her as I am. If
+what you told me is true, she could well be our key
+to the answer. She is Professor Lea Morees, and she
+is just out from Earth with degrees in exobiology and
+anthropology, and has a head stuffed with vital facts."</p>
+
+<p>"Wonderful!" Stine said. "I shall take care of the
+head, not only because it is so pretty but because of
+its knowledge. Though we totter on the edge of
+atomic destruction I have a strange feeling of optimism&mdash;for
+the first time since I landed on this
+planet."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2>
+
+
+<p>The guard inside the front entrance of the Foundation
+building jumped at the thunderous noise and
+reached for his gun. He dropped his hand sheepishly
+when he realized it was only a sneeze&mdash;though a
+gargantuan one. Brion came up, sniffling, huddling
+down into his coat. "I'm going out before I catch
+pneumonia," he said. The guard saluted dumbly, and
+after checking his proximity detector screens he
+slipped out and the heavy portal thudded shut behind
+him. The street was still warm from the heat of
+the day and he sighed happily and opened his coat.</p>
+
+<p>This was partly a reconnaissance trip&mdash;and partly a
+way of getting warmed up. There was little else he
+could do in the building; the staff had long since
+retired. He had slept for a half an hour, and had
+waked refreshed and ready to work. All of the reports
+he could understand had been read and reread
+until they were memorized. He could use the time
+now, while the rest of them were asleep, to get better
+acquainted with the main city of Dis.</p>
+
+<p>As he walked the dark streets he realized how
+alien the Disan way of life was to everything he
+knew. This city&mdash;Hovedstad&mdash;literally meant "main
+place" in the native language. And that's all it was. It
+was only the presence of the offworlders that made it
+into a city. Building after building, standing deserted,
+bore the names of mining companies, traders,
+space transporters. None of them was occupied now.
+Some still had lights burning, switched on by automatic
+apparatus, others were as dark as the Disan
+structures. There weren't many of these native constructions
+and they seemed out of place among the
+rammed earth and prefab offworld buildings. Brion
+examined one that was dimly illuminated by the light
+on the corner of VEGAN SMELTERS, LTD.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It consisted of a single large room, resting right on
+the ground. There were no windows, and the whole
+thing appeared to have been constructed of some sort
+of woven material plastered with stone-hard mud.
+Nothing was blocking the door and he was thinking
+seriously of going in when he became aware that he
+was being followed.</p>
+
+<p>It was only a slight noise, almost lost in the night.
+Normally it would never have been noticed, but
+tonight Brion was listening with his entire body.
+Someone was behind him, swallowed up in the pools
+of darkness. Brion shrank back against the wall.
+There was very little chance this could be anyone but
+a Disan. He had a sudden memory of Mervv's severed
+head as it had been discovered outside the door.</p>
+
+<p>Ihjel had helped him train his empathetic sense
+and he reached out with it. It was difficult working
+in the dark; he could be sure of nothing. Was he
+getting a reaction&mdash;or just wishing for one? Why did
+it have a ring of familiarity to it? A sudden idea
+struck him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ulv," he said, very softly. "This is Brion." He
+crouched, ready for any attack.</p>
+
+<p>"I know," a voice said softly in the night. "Do not
+talk. Walk in the direction you were going before."</p>
+
+<p>Asking questions now would accomplish nothing.
+Brion turned instantly and did as he was bidden. The
+buildings grew further apart until he realized from
+the sand underfoot that he was back in the planet-wide
+desert. It could be a trap&mdash;he hadn't recognized
+the voice behind the whisper&mdash;yet he had to take
+this chance. A darker shape appeared in the dark
+night near him, and a burning hot hand touched his
+arm lightly.</p>
+
+<p>"I will walk ahead. Follow close behind me." The
+words were louder and this time Brion recognized
+the voice.</p>
+
+<p>Without waiting for an answer, Ulv turned and his
+dimly seen shape vanished into the darkness. Brion
+moved swiftly after him, until they walked side by
+side over the rolling hills of sand. The sand merged
+into hard-baked ground, became cracked and scarred<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
+with rock-filled gulleys. They followed a deepening
+gulley that grew into a good-sized ravine. When they
+turned an angle of the ravine Brion saw a weak
+yellow light coming from an opening in the hard dirt
+wall.</p>
+
+<p>Ulv dropped on all fours and vanished through
+the shoulder-wide hole. Brion followed him, trying to
+ignore the growing tension and unease he felt.
+Crawling like this, head down, he was terribly vulnerable.
+He tried to shrug off the feeling, mentally
+blaming it on tense nerves.</p>
+
+<p>The tunnel was short and opened into a larger
+chamber. A sudden scuffle of feet sounded at the
+same instant that a wave of empathetic hatred struck
+him. It took vital seconds to fight his way out of the
+trapping tunnel, to roll clear and bring his gun up.
+During those seconds he should have died. The
+Disan poised above him had the short-handled stone
+hammer raised to strike a skull-crushing blow.</p>
+
+<p>Ulv was clutching the man's wrist, fighting silently
+to keep the hammer from falling. Neither combatant
+said a word, the rasp of their calloused feet on the
+sand the only sound. Brion backed away from the
+struggling men, his gun centered on the stranger. The
+Disan followed him with burning eyes, and dropped
+the hammer as soon as it was obvious the attack had
+failed.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you bring him here?" he growled at Ulv.
+"Why didn't you kill him?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is here so we can listen to what he says, Gebk.
+He is the one I told you of, that I found in the
+desert."</p>
+
+<p>"We listen to what he says and then we kill him,"
+Gebk said with a mirthless grin. The remark wasn't
+meant to be humorous, but was made in all seriousness.
+Brion recognized this and knew that there was
+no danger for the present moment. He slid the gun
+away, and for the first time looked around the chamber.</p>
+
+<p>It was domed in shape and was still hot from the
+heat of the day. Ulv took off the length of cloth he
+had wrapped around his body against the chill, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
+refolded it as a kilt, strapping it on under his belt
+artifacts. He grunted something unintelligible and
+when a muttered answer came, Brion for the first
+time became aware of the woman and the child.</p>
+
+<p>The two sat against the far wall, squatting on
+either side of a heap of fibrous plants. Both were
+nude, clothed only in the matted hair that fell below
+their shoulders. The belt of strange tools could not be
+classified as clothing. Even the child wore a tiny
+replica of her mother's. Putting down a length of
+plant she had been chewing, the woman shuffled
+over to the tiny fire that illuminated the room. A clay
+pot stood over it, and from this she ladled three
+bowls of food for the men. It smelled atrocious, and
+Brion tried not to taste or smell the sickening mixture
+while he ate it. He used his fingers, as did the other
+men, and did not talk while he ate. There was no
+way to tell if the silence was ritual or habit. It gave
+him a chance for a closer look at the Disan way of
+living.</p>
+
+<p>The cave was obviously hand-made; tool marks
+could be clearly seen in the hard clay of the walls,
+except in the portion opposite the entrance. This was
+covered with a network of roots, rising out of the
+floor and vanishing into the roof of earth above.
+Perhaps this was the reason for the cave's existence.
+The thin roots had been carefully twisted and plaited
+together until they formed a single swollen root in
+the center, as thick as a man's arm. From this hung
+four of the vaedes: Ulv had placed his there before
+he sat down. The teeth must have instantly sunk in,
+for it hung unsupported&mdash;another link in the Disan
+life cycle. This appeared to be the source of the
+vaede's water that nourished the people.</p>
+
+<p>Brion was aware of eyes upon him and turned and
+smiled at the little girl. She couldn't have been over
+six years old, but she was already a Disan in every
+way. She neither returned his smile nor changed her
+expression, unchildlike in its stolidity. Her hands and
+jaw never stopped as she worked on the lengths of
+fibrous plant her mother had placed before her. The
+child split them with a small tool and removed a pod<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
+of some kind. This was peeled&mdash;partially by scraping
+with a different tool, and partially by working between
+her teeth. It took long minutes to remove the
+tough rind; the results seemed scarcely worth it. A
+tiny wriggling object was finally disclosed which the
+girl instantly swallowed. She then began working on
+the next pod.</p>
+
+<p>Ulv put down his clay bowl and belched. "I
+brought you to the city as I told you I would," he
+said. "Have you done as you said you would?"</p>
+
+<p>"What did he promise?" Gebk asked.</p>
+
+<p>"That he would stop the war. Have you stopped
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am trying to stop it," Brion said. "But it is not
+that easy. I'll need some help. It is your life that
+needs saving&mdash;yours and your families'. If you would
+help me&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What is the truth?" Ulv broke in savagely. "All I
+hear is difference, and there is no longer any way to
+tell truth. For as long as always we have done as the
+magter say. We bring them food and they give us the
+metal and sometimes water when we need it. As long
+as we do as they ask they do not kill us. They live
+the wrong way, but I have had bronze from them for
+my tools. They have told us that they are getting a
+world for us from the sky people, and that is good."</p>
+
+<p>"It has always been known that the sky people are
+evil in every way, and only good can come from
+killing them," Gebk said.</p>
+
+<p>Brion stared back at the two Disans and their
+obvious hatred. "Then why didn't you kill me, Ulv?"
+he asked. "That first time in the desert, or tonight
+when you stopped Gebk?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could have. But there was something more important.
+What is the truth? Can we believe as we
+have always done? Or should we listen to this?"</p>
+
+<p>He threw a small sheet of plastic to Brion, no
+bigger than the palm of his hand. A metal button was
+fastened to one corner of the wafer, and a simple
+drawing was imbedded in the wafer. Brion held it to
+the light and saw a picture of a man's hand squeezing
+the button between thumb and forefinger. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
+a subminiaturized playback; mechanical pressure on
+the case provided enough current to play the recorded
+message. The plastic sheet vibrated, acting as a
+loudspeaker.</p>
+
+<p>Though the voice was thin and scratchy, the words
+were clearly audible. It was an appeal for the Disan
+people not to listen to the magter. It explained that
+the magter had started a war that could have only
+one ending&mdash;the destruction of Dis. Only if the magter
+were thrown down and their weapons discovered
+could there be any hope.</p>
+
+<p>"Are these words true?" Ulv asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Brion said.</p>
+
+<p>"They are perhaps true," Gebk said, "but there is
+nothing that we can do. I was with my brother when
+these word-things fell out of the sky and he listened
+to one and took it to the magter to ask them. They
+killed him, as he should have known they would do.
+The magter kill us if they know we listen to the
+words."</p>
+
+<p>"And the words tell us we will die if we listen to
+the magter!" Ulv shouted, his voice cracking. Not
+with fear, but with frustration at the attempt to
+reconcile two opposite points of view. Up until this
+time his world had consisted of black and white
+values, with very few shadings of difference in between.</p>
+
+<p>"There are things you can do that will stop the war
+without hurting yourself or the magter," Brion said,
+searching for a way to enlist their aid.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us," Ulv grunted.</p>
+
+<p>"There would be no war if the magter could be
+contacted, made to listen to reason. They are killing
+you all. You could tell me how to talk to the magter,
+how I could understand them&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No one can talk to the magter," the woman broke
+in. "If you say something different they will kill you
+as they killed Gebk's brother. So they are easy to
+understand. That is the way they are. They do not
+change." She put the length of plant she had been
+softening for the child back into her mouth. Her lips
+were deeply grooved and scarred from a lifetime of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
+this work, her teeth at the sides worn almost to the
+bone.</p>
+
+<p>"Mor is right," Ulv said. "You do not talk to magter.
+What else is there to do?"</p>
+
+<p>Brion looked at the two men before he spoke, and
+shifted his weight. The motion brought his fingertips
+just a few inches from his gun. "The magter have
+bombs that will destroy Nyjord&mdash;this is the next
+planet, a star in your sky. If I can find where the
+bombs are, I will have them taken away and there
+will be no war."</p>
+
+<p>"You want to aid the devils in the sky against our
+own people!" Gebk shouted, half rising. Ulv pulled
+him back to the ground, but there was no more
+warmth in his voice as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"You are asking too much. You will leave now."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you help me, though? Will you help stop the
+war?" Brion asked, aware he had gone too far, but
+unable to stop. Their anger was making them forget
+the reasons for his being there.</p>
+
+<p>"You ask too much," Ulv said again. "Go back now.
+We will talk about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Will I see you again? How can I reach you?"</p>
+
+<p>"We will find you if we wish to talk to you," was
+all Ulv said. If they decided he was lying he would
+never see them again. There was nothing he could do
+about it.</p>
+
+<p>"I have made up my mind," Gebk said, rising to his
+feet and drawing his cloth up until it covered his
+shoulders. "You are lying and this is all a lie of the
+sky people. If I see you again I will kill you." He
+stepped to the tunnel and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing more to be said. Brion went out
+next&mdash;checking carefully to be sure that Gebk really
+had left&mdash;and Ulv guided him to the spot where the
+lights of Hovedstad were visible. He did not speak
+during their return journey and vanished without a
+word. Brion shivered in the night chill of the air and
+wrapped his coat more tightly around himself. Depressed,
+he walked back towards the warmer streets
+of the city.</p>
+
+<p>It was dawn when he reached the Foundation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
+building; a new guard was at the front entrance. No
+amount of hammering or threats could convince the
+man to open until Faussel came down, yawning and
+blinking with sleep. He was starting some complaint
+when Brion cut him off curtly and ordered him to
+finish dressing and report for work at once. Still
+feeling elated, Brion hurried into his office and
+cursed the overly efficient character who had turned
+on his air conditioner to chill the room again. When
+he turned it off this time he removed enough vital
+parts to keep it out of order for the duration.</p>
+
+<p>When Faussel came in he was still yawning behind
+his fist&mdash;obviously a low morning-sugar type. "Before
+you fall on your face, go out and get some coffee,"
+Brion said. "Two cups. I'll have a cup too."</p>
+
+<p>"That won't be necessary," Faussel said, drawing
+himself up stiffly. "I'll call the canteen if you wish
+some." He said it in the iciest tone he could manage
+this early in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>In his enthusiasm Brion had forgotten the hate
+campaign he had directed against himself. "Suit
+yourself," he said shortly, getting back into the role.
+"But the next time you yawn there'll be a negative
+entry in your service record. If that's clear&mdash;you can
+brief me on this organization's visible relations with
+the Disans. How do they take us?"</p>
+
+<p>Faussel choked and swallowed a yawn. "I believe
+they look on the C.R.F. people as some species of
+simpleton, sir. They hate all offworlders; memory of
+their desertion has been passed on verbally for generations.
+So by their one-to-one logic we should either
+hate back or go away. We stay instead. And give
+them food, water, medicine and artifacts. Because of
+this they let us remain on sufferance. I imagine they
+consider us do-gooder idiots, and as long as we cause
+no trouble they'll let us stay." He was struggling miserably
+to suppress a yawn, so Brion turned his back
+and gave him a chance to get it out.</p>
+
+<p>"What about the Nyjorders? How much do they
+know of our work?" Brion looked out the window at
+dusty buildings, outlined in purple against the violent
+colors of the desert sunrise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Nyjord is a cooperating planet, and has full
+knowledge at all executive levels. They are giving us
+all the aid they can."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now is the time to ask for more. Can I
+contact the commander of the blockading fleet?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is a scrambler connection right through to
+him. I'll set it up." Faussel bent over the desk and
+punched a number into the phone controls. The
+screen flowed with the black and white patterns of
+the scrambler.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all, Faussel," Brion said. "I want privacy for
+this talk. What's the commander's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Professor Krafft&mdash;he's a physicist. They have no
+military men at all, so they called him in for the
+construction of the bombs and energy weapons. He's
+still in charge." Faussel yawned extravagantly as he
+went out the door.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor-Commander was very old, with
+wispy grey hair and a network of wrinkles surrounding
+his eyes. His image shimmered, then cleared as
+the scrambler units aligned.</p>
+
+<p>"You must be Brion Brandd," he said. "I have to
+tell you how sorry we all are that your friend Ihjel
+and the two others&mdash;had to die, after coming so far to
+help us. I'm sure you are very happy to have had a
+friend like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why ... yes, of course," Brion said, reaching for
+the scattered fragments of his thought processes. It
+took an effort to remember the first conflict, now that
+he was worrying about the death of a planet. "It's
+very kind of you to mention it. But I would like to
+find out a few things from you, if I could."</p>
+
+<p>"Anything at all; we are at your disposal. Before
+we begin, though, I shall pass on the thanks of our
+council for your aid in joining us. Even if we are
+eventually forced to drop the bombs, we shall never
+forget that your organization did everything possible
+to avert the disaster."</p>
+
+<p>Once again Brion was caught off balance. For an
+instant he wondered if Krafft was being insincere,
+then recognized the baseness of this thought. The
+completeness of the man's humanity was obvious and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
+compelling. The thought passed through Brion's mind
+that now he had an additional reason for wanting the
+war ended without destruction on either side. He very
+much wanted to visit Nyjord and see these people on
+their home grounds.</p>
+
+<p>Professor Krafft waited, patiently and silently,
+while Brion pulled his thoughts together and answered.
+"I still hope that this thing can be stopped in
+time. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I
+want to see Lig-magte and I thought it would be
+better if I had a legitimate reason. Are you in contact
+with him?"</p>
+
+<p>Krafft shook his head. "No, not really in contact.
+When this trouble started I sent him a transceiver so
+we could talk directly. But he has delivered his ultimatum,
+speaking for the magter. The only terms he
+will hear are unconditional surrender. His receiver is
+on, but he has said that is the only message he will
+answer."</p>
+
+<p>"Not much chance of him ever being told that,"
+Brion said.</p>
+
+<p>"There was&mdash;at one time. I hope you realize,
+Brion, that the decision to bomb Dis was not easily
+arrived at. A great many people&mdash;myself included&mdash;voted
+for unconditional surrender. We lost the vote
+by a very small margin."</p>
+
+<p>Brion was getting used to these philosophical body
+blows and he rolled with the punches now. "Are
+there any of your people left on this planet? Or do
+you have any troops I can call on for help? This is
+still a remote possibility, but if I do find out where
+the bombs or the launchers are, a surprise raid would
+knock them out."</p>
+
+<p>"We have no people left in Hovedstad now&mdash;all the
+ones who weren't evacuated were killed. But there
+are commando teams standing by here to make a
+landing if the weapons are detected. The Disans
+must depend on secrecy to protect their armament,
+since we have both the manpower and the technology
+to reach any objective. We also have technicians
+and other volunteers looking for the weapon sites.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
+They have not been successful as yet, and most of
+them were killed soon after landing."</p>
+
+<p>Krafft hesitated for a moment. "There is another
+group you should know about; you will need all the
+factors. Some of our people are in the desert outside
+of Hovedstad. We do not officially approve of them,
+though they have a good deal of popular support.
+They are mostly young men, operating as raiders,
+killing and destroying with very little compunction.
+They are attempting to uncover the weapons by
+sheer strength of arms."</p>
+
+<p>This was the best news yet. Brion controlled his
+voice and kept his expression calm when he spoke. "I
+don't know how far I can stretch your cooperation&mdash;but
+could you possibly tell me how to get in touch
+with them?"</p>
+
+<p>Kraft allowed himself a small smile. "I'll give you
+the wave length on which you can reach their radio.
+They call themselves the 'Nyjord army.' When you
+talk to them you can do me a favor. Pass on a
+message. Just to prove things aren't bad enough,
+they've become a little worse. One of our technical
+crews has detected jump-space energy transmissions
+in the planetary crust. The Disans are apparently
+testing their projector, sooner than we had estimated.
+Our deadline has been revised by one day. I'm afraid
+there are only two days left before you must evacuate."
+His eyes were large with compassion. "I'm sorry.
+I know this will make your job that much harder."</p>
+
+<p>Brion didn't want to think about the loss of a full
+day from his already close deadline. "Have you told
+the Disans this yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," Krafft told him. "The decision was reached a
+few minutes before your call. It is going on the radio
+to Lig-magte now."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you cancel the transmission and let me take
+the message in person?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can do that." Krafft thought for a moment. "But
+it would surely mean your death at their hands. They
+have no hesitation in killing any of our people. I
+would prefer to send it by radio."</p>
+
+<p>"If you do that you will be interfering with my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>
+plans, and perhaps destroying them under the guise
+of saving my life. Isn't my life my own&mdash;to dispose of
+as I will?"</p>
+
+<p>For the first time Professor Krafft was upset. "I'm
+sorry, terribly sorry. I'm letting my concern and worry
+wash over into my public affairs. Of course you
+may do as you please; I could never think of stopping
+you." He turned and said something inaudible
+offscreen. "The call is cancelled. The responsibility is
+yours. All our wishes for success go with you. End of
+transmission."</p>
+
+<p>"End of transmission," Brion said, and the screen
+went dark.</p>
+
+<p>"Faussel!" he shouted into the intercom. "Get me
+the best and fastest sand car we have, a driver who
+knows his way around, and two men who can handle
+a gun and know how to take orders. We're going to
+get some positive action at last."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2>
+
+
+<p>"It's suicide," the taller guard grumbled.</p>
+
+<p>"Mine, not yours, so don't worry about it," Brion
+barked at him. "Your job is to remember your orders
+and keep them straight. Now&mdash;let's hear them
+again."</p>
+
+<p>The guard rolled his eyes up in silent rebellion and
+repeated in a toneless voice: "We stay here in the car
+and keep the motor running while you go inside the
+stone pile there. We don't let anybody in the car and
+we try and keep them clear of the car&mdash;short of shooting
+them, that is. We don't come in, no matter what
+happens or what it looks like, but wait for you here.
+Unless you call on the radio, in which case we come
+in with the automatics going and shoot the place up,
+and it doesn't matter who we hit. This will be done
+only as a last resort."</p>
+
+<p>"See if you can't arrange that last resort thing," the
+other guard said, patting the heavy blue barrel of his
+weapon.</p>
+
+<p>"I meant that <i>last</i> resort," Brion said angrily. "If
+any guns go off without my permission you will pay
+for it, and pay with your necks. I want that clearly
+understood. You are here as a rear guard and a base
+for me to get back to. This is my operation and mine
+alone&mdash;unless I call you in. Understood?"</p>
+
+<p>He waited until all three men had nodded in agreement,
+then checked the charge on his gun&mdash;it was
+fully loaded. It would be foolish to go in unarmed,
+but he had to. One gun wouldn't save him. He put it
+aside. The button radio on his collar was working and
+had a strong enough signal to get through any number
+of walls. He took off his coat, threw open the door
+and stepped out into the searing brilliance of the
+Disan noon.</p>
+
+<p>There was only the desert silence, broken by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>
+steady throb of the car's motor behind him.
+Stretching away to the horizon in every direction was
+the eternal desert of sand. The keep stood nearby,
+solitary, a massive pile of black rock. Brion plodded
+closer, watching for any motion from the walls. Nothing
+stirred. The high-walled, irregularly shaped construction
+sat in a ponderous silence. Brion was
+sweating now, only partially from the heat.</p>
+
+<p>He circled the thing, looking for a gate. There
+wasn't one at ground level. A slanting cleft in the
+stone could be climbed easily, but it seemed incredible
+that this might be the only entrance. A complete
+circuit proved that it was. Brion looked unhappily at
+the slanting and broken ramp, then cupped his hands
+and shouted loudly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm coming up. Your radio doesn't work any more.
+I'm bringing the message from Nyjord that you have
+been waiting to hear." This was a slight bending of
+the truth without fracturing it. There was no answer&mdash;just
+the hiss of wind-blown sand against the rock and
+the mutter of the car in the background. He started to
+climb.</p>
+
+<p>The rock underfoot was crumbling and he had to
+watch where he put his feet. At the same time he
+fought a constant impulse to look up, watching for
+anything falling from above. Nothing happened.
+When he reached the top of the wall he was breathing
+hard; sweat moistened his body. There was still
+no one in sight. He stood on an unevenly shaped wall
+that appeared to circle the building. Instead of having
+a courtyard inside it, the wall was the outer face
+of the structure, the domed roof rising from it. At
+varying intervals dark openings gave access to the
+interior. When Brion looked down, the sand car was
+just a dun-colored bump in the desert, already far
+behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Stooping, he went through the nearest door. There
+was still no one in sight. The room inside was something
+out of a madman's funhouse. It was higher than
+it was wide, irregular in shape, and more like a
+hallway than a room. At one end it merged into an
+incline that became a stairwell. At the other it ended<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>
+in a hole that vanished in darkness below. Light of
+sorts filtered in through slots and holes drilled into
+the thick stone wall. Everything was built of the
+same crumble-textured but strong rock. Brion took
+the stairs. After a number of blind passages and
+wrong turns he saw a stronger light ahead, and went
+on. There was food, metal, even artifacts of the unusual
+Disan design in the different rooms he passed
+through. Yet no people. The light ahead grew stronger,
+and the last passageway opened and swelled out
+until it led into the large central chamber.</p>
+
+<p>This was the heart of the strange structure. All the
+rooms, passageways and halls existed just to give
+form to this gigantic chamber. The walls rose sharply,
+the room being circular in cross section and
+growing narrower towards the top. It was a truncated
+cone, since there was no ceiling; a hot blue disk of
+sky cast light on the floor below.</p>
+
+<p>On the floor stood a knot of men who stared at
+Brion.</p>
+
+<p>Out of the corner of his eyes, and with the very
+periphery of his consciousness, he was aware of the
+rest of the room&mdash;barrels, stores, machinery, a radio
+transceiver, various bundles and heaps that made no
+sense at first glance. There was no time to look
+closer. Every fraction of his attention was focused on
+the muffled and hooded men.</p>
+
+<p>He had found the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>Everything that had happened to him so far on Dis
+had been preparation for this moment. The attack in
+the desert, the escape, the dreadful heat of sun and
+sand. All this had tempered and prepared him. It
+had been nothing in itself. Now the battle would
+begin in earnest.</p>
+
+<p>None of this was conscious in his mind. His fighter's
+reflexes bent his shoulders, curved his hands before
+him as he walked softly in balance, ready to spring in
+any direction. Yet none of this was really necessary.
+All the danger so far was nonphysical. When he did
+give conscious thought to the situation he stopped,
+startled. What was wrong here? None of the men had
+moved or made a sound. How could he even know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
+they were men? They were so muffled and wrapped
+in cloth that only their eyes were exposed.</p>
+
+<p>No doubt, however, existed in Brion's mind. In
+spite of muffled cloth and silence, he knew them for
+what they were. The eyes were empty of expression
+and unmoving, yet were filled with the same negative
+emptiness as those of a bird of prey. They could
+look on life, death, and the rending of flesh with the
+same lack of interest and compassion. All this Brion
+knew in an instant of time, without words being
+spoken. Between the time he lifted one foot and
+walked a step he understood what he had to face.
+There could be no doubt, not to an empathetic.</p>
+
+<p>From the group of silent men poured a frost-white
+wave of unemotion. An empathetic shares what other
+men feel. He gets his knowledge of their reaction by
+sensing lightly their emotions, the surges of interest,
+hate, love, fear, desire, the sweep of large and small
+sensations that accompany all thought and action.
+The empathetic is always aware of this constant and
+silent surge, whether he makes the effort to understand
+it or not. He is like a man glancing across the
+open pages of a tableful of books. He can see that the
+type, words, paragraphs, thoughts are there, even
+without focusing his attention to understand any of
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Then how does the man feel when he glances at
+the open books and sees only blank pages? The books
+are there&mdash;the words are not. He turns the pages of
+one, of the others, flipping the pages, searching for
+meaning. There is no meaning. All of the pages are
+blank.</p>
+
+<p>This was the way in which the magter were blank,
+without emotions. There was a barely sensed surge
+and return that must have been neural impulses on a
+basic level&mdash;the automatic adjustments of nerve and
+muscle that keep an organism alive. Nothing more.
+Brion reached for other sensations, but there was
+nothing there to grasp. Either these men were without
+emotions, or they were able to block them from
+his detection; it was impossible to tell which.</p>
+
+<p>Very little time had passed while Brion made these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
+discoveries. The knot of men still looked at him,
+silent and unmoving. They weren't expectant, their
+attitude could not have been called one of interest.
+But he had come to them and now they waited to
+find out why. Any questions or statements they spoke
+would be superfluous, so they didn't speak. The responsibility
+was his.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come to talk with Lig-magte. Who is he?"
+Brion didn't like the tiny sound his voice made in the
+immense room.</p>
+
+<p>One of the men gave a slight motion to draw
+attention to himself. None of the others moved. They
+still waited.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a message for you," Brion said, speaking
+slowly to fill the silence of the room and the emptiness
+of his thoughts. This had to be handled right.
+But what was right? "I'm from the Foundation in the
+city, as you undoubtedly know. I've been talking to
+the people of Nyjord. They have a message for you."</p>
+
+<p>The silence grew longer. Brion had no intention of
+making this a monologue. He needed facts to operate,
+to form an opinion. Looking at the silent forms was
+telling him nothing. Time stretched taut, and finally
+Lig-magte spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"The Nyjorders are going to surrender."</p>
+
+<p>It was an impossibly strange sentence. Brion had
+never realized before how much of the content of
+speech was made up of emotion. If the man had
+given it a positive emphasis, perhaps said it with
+enthusiasm, it would have meant, "Success! The enemy
+is going to surrender!" This wasn't the meaning.</p>
+
+<p>With a rising inflection on the end it would have
+been a question. "Are they going to surrender?" It
+was neither of these. The sentence carried no other
+message than that contained in the simplest meanings
+of the separate words. It had intellectual connotations,
+but these could only be gained from past
+knowledge, not from the sound of the words. There
+was only one message they were prepared to receive
+from Nyjord. Therefore Brion was bringing the message.
+If that was not the message Brion was bringing
+the men here were not interested.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This was the vital fact. If they were not interested
+he could have no further value to them. Since he
+came from the enemy, he was the enemy. Therefore
+he would be killed. Because this was vital to his
+existence, Brion took the time to follow the thought
+through. It made logical sense&mdash;and logic was all he
+could depend on now. He could be talking to robots
+or alien creatures, for all the human response he was
+receiving.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't win this war&mdash;all you can do is hurry
+your own deaths." He said this with as much conviction
+as he could, realizing at the same time that it
+was wasted effort. No flicker of response stirred in
+the men before him. "The Nyjorders know you have
+the cobalt bombs, and they have detected your jump-space
+projector. They can't take any more chances.
+They have pushed the deadline closer by an entire
+day. There are one and a half days left before the
+bombs fall and you are all destroyed. Do you realize
+what that means&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the message?" Lig-magte asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Brion said.</p>
+
+<p>Two things saved his life then. He had guessed
+what would happen as soon as they had his message,
+though he hadn't been sure. But even the suspicion
+had put him on his guard. This, combined with the
+reflexes of a Winner of the Twenties, was barely
+enough to enable him to survive.</p>
+
+<p>From frozen mobility Lig-magte had catapulted
+into headlong attack. As he leaped forward he drew
+a curved, double-edged blade from under his robes.
+It plunged unerringly through the spot where Brion's
+body had been an instant before.</p>
+
+<p>There had been no time to tense his muscles and
+jump, just the space of time to relax them and fall to
+one side. His reasoning mind joined the battle as he
+hit the floor. Lig-magte plunged by him, turning and
+bringing the knife down at the same time. Brion's
+foot lashed out and caught the other man's leg, sending
+him sprawling.</p>
+
+<p>They were both on their feet at the same instant,
+facing each other. Brion now had his hands clasped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>
+before him in the unarmed man's best defense against
+a knife, the two arms protecting the body, the two
+hands joined to beat aside the knife arm from whichever
+direction it came. The Disan hunched low,
+flipped the knife quickly from hand to hand, then
+thrust it again at Brion's midriff.</p>
+
+<p>Only by the merest fractional margin did Brion
+evade the attack for the second time. Lig-magte
+fought with utter violence. Every action was as intense
+as possible, deadly and thorough. There could
+be only one end to this unequal contest if Brion
+stayed on the defensive. The man with the knife had
+to win.</p>
+
+<p>With the next charge Brion changed tactics. He
+leaped inside the thrust, clutching for the knife arm.
+A burning slice of pain cut across his arm, then his
+fingers clutched the tendoned wrist. They clamped
+down hard, grinding shut, compressing with the
+tightening intensity of a closing vise.</p>
+
+<p>It was all he could do simply to hold on. There was
+no science in it, just his greater strength from exercise
+and existence on a heavier planet. All of this strength
+went to his clutching hand, because he held his own
+life in that hand, forcing away the knife that wanted
+to terminate it forever. Nothing else mattered&mdash;neither
+the frightening force of the knees that
+thudded into his body nor the hooked fingers that
+reached for his eyes to tear them out. He protected
+his face as well as he could, while the nails tore
+furrows through his flesh and the cut on his arm bled
+freely. These were only minor things to be endured.
+His life depended on the grasp of the fingers of his
+right hand.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sudden immobility as Brion succeeded
+in clutching Lig-magte's other arm. It was a good
+grip, and he could hold the arm immobilized. They
+had reached stasis, standing knee to knee, their faces
+only a few inches apart. The muffling cloth had
+fallen from the Disan's face during the struggle, and
+empty, frigid eyes stared into Brion's. No flicker of
+emotion crossed the harsh planes of the other man's
+face. A great puckered white scar covered one cheek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
+and pulled up a corner of the mouth in a cheerless
+grimace. It was false; there was still no expression
+here, even when the pain must be growing more
+intense.</p>
+
+<p>Brion was winning&mdash;if none of the watchers broke
+the impasse. His greater weight and strength counted
+now. The Disan would have to drop the knife before
+his arm was dislocated at the shoulder. He didn't do
+it. With sudden horror Brion realized that he wasn't
+going to drop it&mdash;no matter what happened.</p>
+
+<p>A dull, hideous snap jerked through the Disan's
+body and the arm hung limp and dead. No expression
+crossed the man's face. The knife was still
+locked in the fingers of the paralyzed hand. With his
+other hand Lig-magte reached across and started to
+pry the blade loose, ready to continue the battle
+one-handed. Brion raised his foot and kicked the
+knife free, sending it spinning across the room.</p>
+
+<p>Lig-magte made a fist of his good hand and crashed
+it into Brion's groin. He was still fighting, as if
+nothing had changed. Brion backed slowly away
+from the man. "Stop it," he said. "You can't win now.
+It's impossible." He called to the other men who were
+watching the unequal battle with expressionless immobility.
+No one answered him.</p>
+
+<p>With a terrible sinking sensation Brion then realized
+what would happen and what he had to do.
+Lig-magte was as heedless of his own life as he was
+of the life of his planet. He would press the attack no
+matter what damage was done to him. Brion had an
+insane vision of him breaking the man's other arm,
+fracturing both his legs, and the limbless broken creature
+still coming forward. Crawling, rolling, teeth
+bared, since they were the only remaining weapon.</p>
+
+<p>There was only one way to end it. Brion feinted
+and the Lig-magte's arm moved clear of his body.
+The engulfing cloth was thin and through it Brion
+could see the outlines of the Disan's abdomen and rib
+cage, the clear location of the great nerve ganglion.</p>
+
+<p>It was the death blow of kara-te. Brion had never
+used it on a man. In practice he had broken heavy
+boards, splintering them instantly with the short, pre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>cise
+stroke. The stiffened hand moving forward in a
+sudden surge, all the weight and energy of his body
+concentrated in his joined fingertips. Plunging deep
+into the other's flesh.</p>
+
+<p>Killing, not by accident or in sudden anger. Killing
+because this was the only way the battle could possibly
+end.</p>
+
+<p>Like a ruined tower of flesh, the Disan crumpled
+and fell.</p>
+
+<p>Dripping blood, exhausted, Brion stood over the
+body of Lig-magte and stared at the dead man's
+allies.</p>
+
+<p>Death filled the room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Facing the silent Disans, Brion's thoughts hurtled
+about in sweeping circles. There would be no more
+than an instant's tick of time before the magter
+avenged themselves bloodily and completely. He felt
+a fleeting regret for not having brought his gun, then
+abandoned the thought. There was no time for regrets&mdash;what
+could he do <i>now</i>?</p>
+
+<p>The silent watchers hadn't attacked instantly, and
+Brion realized that they couldn't be positive yet that
+Lig-magte had been killed. Only Brion himself knew
+the deadliness of that blow. Their lack of knowledge
+might buy him a little more time.</p>
+
+<p>"Lig-magte is unconscious, but he will revive
+quickly," Brion said, pointing at the huddled body.
+As the eyes turned automatically to follow his finger,
+he began walking slowly towards the exit. "I did not
+want to do this, but he forced me to, because he
+wouldn't listen to reason. Now I have something else
+to show you, something that I hoped it would not
+be necessary to reveal."</p>
+
+<p>He was saying the first words that came into his
+head, trying to keep them distracted as long as possible.
+He must appear to be only going across the
+room, that was the feeling he must generate. There
+was even time to stop for a second and straighten his
+rumpled clothing and brush the sweat from his eyes.
+Talking easily, walking slowly towards the hall that
+led out of the chamber.</p>
+
+<p>He was halfway there when the spell broke and the
+rush began. One of the magter knelt and touched the
+body, and shouted a single word:</p>
+
+<p>"Dead!"</p>
+
+<p>Brion hadn't waited for the official announcement.
+At the first movement of feet, he dived headlong for
+the shelter of the exit. There was a spatter of tiny<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
+missiles on the wall next to him and he had a brief
+glimpse of raised blowguns before the wall intervened.
+He went up the dimly lit stairs three at a time.</p>
+
+<p>The pack was just behind him, voiceless and deadly.
+He could not gain on them&mdash;if anything, they were
+closing the distance as he pushed his already tired
+body to the utmost. There was no subtlety or trick he
+could use now, just straightforward flight back the
+way he had come. A single slip on the irregular steps
+and it would be all over.</p>
+
+<p>There was someone ahead of him. If the woman
+had waited a few seconds more he would certainly
+have been killed; but instead of slashing at him as he
+went by the doorway, she made the mistake of rushing
+to the center of the stairs, the knife ready to
+impale him as he came up. Without slowing, Brion
+fell onto his hands and easily dodged under the
+blow. As he passed he twisted and seized her around
+the waist, picking her from the ground.</p>
+
+<p>When her legs lifted from under her the woman
+screamed&mdash;the first human sound Brion had heard in
+this human anthill. His pursuers were just behind
+him, and he hurled the woman into them with all his
+strength. They fell in a tangle, and Brion used the
+precious seconds gained to reach the top of the building.</p>
+
+<p>There must have been other stairs and exits, because
+one of the magter stood between Brion and the
+way down out of this trap&mdash;armed and ready to kill
+him if he tried to pass.</p>
+
+<p>As he ran towards the executioner, Brion flicked on
+his collar radio and shouted into it. "I'm in trouble
+here. Can you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The guards in the car must have been waiting for
+this message. Before he had finished there was the
+thud of a high-velocity slug hitting flesh and the
+Disan spun and fell, blood soaking his shoulder.
+Brion leaped over him and headed for the ramp.</p>
+
+<p>"The next one is me&mdash;hold your fire!" he called.</p>
+
+<p>Both guards must have had their telescopic sights
+zeroed on the spot. They let Brion pass, then threw
+in a hail of semi-automatic fire that tore chunks from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
+the stone and screamed away in noisy ricochets.
+Brion didn't try to see if anyone was braving this hail
+of covering fire; he concentrated his energies on making
+as quick and erratic a descent as he could. Above
+the sounds of the firing he heard the car motor howl
+as it leaped forward. With their careful aim spoiled,
+the gunners switched to full automatic and unleashed
+a hailstorm of flying metal that bracketed the top of
+the tower.</p>
+
+<p>"Cease ... firing!" Brion gasped into the radio as
+he ran. The driver was good, and timed his arrival
+with exactitude. The car reached the base of the
+tower at the same instant Brion did, and he burst
+through the door while it was still moving. No orders
+were necessary. He fell headlong onto a seat as the
+car swung in a dust-raising turn and ground into high
+gear, back to the city.</p>
+
+<p>Reaching over carefully, the tall guard gently extracted
+a bit of pointed wood and fluff from a fold of
+Brion's pants. He cracked open the car door, and just
+as delicately threw it out.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew that thing didn't touch you," he said,
+"since you are still among the living. They've got a
+poison on those blowgun darts that takes all of twelve
+seconds to work. Lucky."</p>
+
+<p>Lucky! Brion was beginning to realize just how
+lucky he was to be out of the trap alive. And with
+information. Now that he knew more about the
+magter, he shuddered at his innocence in walking
+alone and unarmed into the tower. Skill had helped
+him survive&mdash;but better than average luck had been
+necessary. Curiosity had gotten him in, brashness and
+speed had taken him out. He was exhausted, battered
+and bloody&mdash;but cheerfully happy. The facts about
+the magter were arranging themselves into a theory
+that might explain their attempt at racial suicide. It
+just needed a little time to be put into shape.</p>
+
+<p>A pain cut across his arm and he jumped, startled,
+pieces of his thoughts crashing into ruin around him.
+The gunner had cracked the first-aid box and was
+swabbing his arm with antiseptic. The knife wound
+was long, but not deep. Brion shivered while the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>
+bandage was going on, then quickly slipped into his
+coat. The air conditioner whined industriously, bringing
+down the temperature.</p>
+
+<p>There was no attempt to follow the car. When the
+black tower had dropped over the horizon the
+guards relaxed, ran cleaning rods through their guns
+and compared marksmanship. All of their antagonism
+towards Brion was gone; they actually smiled at him.
+He had given them the first chance to shoot back
+since they had been on this planet.</p>
+
+<p>The ride was uneventful, and Brion was scarcely
+aware of it. A theory was taking form in his mind. It
+was radical and startling&mdash;yet it seemed to be the
+only one that fitted the facts. He pushed at it from all
+sides, but if there were any holes he couldn't find
+them. What it needed was dispassionate proving or
+disproving. There was only one person on Dis who
+was qualified to do this.</p>
+
+<p>Lea was working in the lab when he came in, bent
+over a low-power binocular microscope. Something
+small, limbless and throbbing was on the slide. She
+glanced up when she heard his footsteps, smiling
+warmly when she recognized him. Fatigue and pain
+had drawn her face; her skin, glistening with burn
+ointment, was chapped and peeling.</p>
+
+<p>"I must look a wreck," she said, putting the back of
+her hand to her cheek. "Something like a well-oiled
+and lightly cooked piece of beef." She lowered her
+arm suddenly and took his hand in both of hers. Her
+palms were warm and slightly moist.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Brion," was all she could say. Her
+society on Earth was highly civilized and sophisticated,
+able to discuss any topic without emotion and
+without embarrassment. This was fine in most circumstances,
+but made it difficult to thank a person
+for saving your life. However you tried to phrase it, it
+came out sounding like a last-act speech from a historical
+play. There was no doubt, however, as to what
+she meant. Her eyes were large and dark, the pupils
+dilated by the drugs she had been given. They could
+not lie, nor could the emotions he sensed. He did not
+answer, just held her hand an instant longer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How do you feel," he asked, concerned. His conscience
+twinged as he remembered that he was the
+one who had ordered her out of bed and back to
+work today.</p>
+
+<p>"I should be feeling terrible," she said, with an airy
+wave of her hand. "But I'm walking on top of the
+world. I'm so loaded with pain-killers and stimulants
+that I'm high as the moon. All the nerves to my feet
+feel turned off&mdash;it's like walking on two balls of fluff.
+Thanks for getting me out of that awful hospital and
+back to work."</p>
+
+<p>Brion was suddenly sorry for having driven her
+from her sick bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be sorry!" Lea said, apparently reading his
+mind, but really seeing only his sudden ashamed
+expression. "I'm feeling no pain. Honestly. I feel a
+little light-headed and foggy at times, nothing more.
+And this is the job I came here to do. In fact ... well,
+it's almost impossible to tell you just how fascinating
+it all is! It was almost worth getting baked
+and parboiled for."</p>
+
+<p>She swung back to the microscope, centering the
+specimen with a turn of the stage adjustment screw.
+"Poor Ihjel was right when he said this planet was
+exobiologically fascinating. This is a gastropod, a lot
+like <i>Odostomia</i>, but it has parasitical morphological
+changes so profound that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There's something else I remember," Brion said,
+interrupting her enthusiastic lecture, only half of
+which he could understand. "Didn't Ihjel also hope
+that you would give some study to the natives as well
+as their environment? The problem is with the Disans&mdash;not
+with the local wild life."</p>
+
+<p>"But I <i>am</i> studying them," Lea insisted. "The
+Disans have attained an incredibly advanced form of
+commensalism. Their lives are so intimately connected
+and integrated with the other life forms that they
+must be studied in relation to their environment. I
+doubt if they show as many external physical changes
+as little eating-foot <i>Odostomia</i> on the slide here, but
+there will surely be a number of psychological changes
+and adjustments that will crop up. One of these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>
+might be the explanation of their urge for planetary
+suicide."</p>
+
+<p>"That may be true&mdash;but I don't think so," Brion
+said. "I went on a little expedition this morning and
+found something that has more immediate relevancy."</p>
+
+<p>For the first time Lea became aware of his slightly
+battered condition. Her drug-grooved mind could
+only follow a single idea at a time and had over-looked
+the significance of the bandage and dirt.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been visiting," Brion said, forestalling the
+question on her lips. "The magter are the ones who
+are responsible for causing the trouble, and I had to
+see them up close before I could make any decisions.
+It wasn't a very pleasant thing, but I found out what
+I wanted to know. They are different in every way
+from the normal Disans. I've compared them. I've
+talked to Ulv&mdash;the native who saved us in the desert&mdash;and
+I can understand him. He is not like us in many
+ways&mdash;he certainly couldn't be, living in this oven&mdash;but
+he is still undeniably human. He gave us drinking
+water when we needed it, then brought help. The
+magter, the upper-class lords of Dis, are the direct
+opposite. As cold-blooded and ruthless a bunch of
+murderers as you can possibly imagine. They tried to
+kill me when they met me, without reason. Their
+clothes, habits, dwellings, manners&mdash;everything about
+them differs from that of the normal Disan. More
+important, the magter are as coldly efficient and
+inhuman as a reptile. They have no emotions, no
+love, no hate, no anger, no fear&mdash;nothing. Each of
+them is a chilling bundle of thought processes and
+reactions, with all the emotions removed."</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you exaggerating?" Lea asked. "After all,
+you can't be sure. It might just be part of their
+training not to reveal any emotional state. Everyone
+must experience emotional states, whether they like
+it or not."</p>
+
+<p>"That's my main point. Everyone does&mdash;except the
+magter. I can't go into all the details now, so you'll
+just have to take my word for it. Even at the point of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
+death they have no fear or hatred. It may sound
+impossible, but it is true."</p>
+
+<p>Lea tried to shake the knots from her drug-hazed
+mind. "I'm dull today," she said. "You'll have to excuse
+me. If these rulers had no emotional responses,
+that might explain their present suicidal position.
+But an explanation like this raises more new problems
+than it supplies answers to the old ones. How
+did they get this way! It doesn't seem humanly possible
+to be without emotions of some kind."</p>
+
+<p>"Just my point. Not <i>humanly</i> possible. I think these
+ruling class Disans aren't human at all, like the other
+Disans. I think they are alien creatures&mdash;robots or
+androids&mdash;anything except men. I think they are living
+in disguise among the normal human dwellers."</p>
+
+<p>At first Lea started to smile, then her feeling
+changed when she saw his face. "You are serious?"
+she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Never more so. I realize it must sound as if I've
+had my brains bounced around too much this morning.
+Yet this is the only idea I can come up with that
+fits all of the facts. Look at the evidence yourself.
+One simple thing stands out clearly, and must be
+considered first if any theory is to hold up. That is
+the magters' complete indifference to death&mdash;their
+own or anyone else's. Is that normal to mankind?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;but I can find a couple of explanations that I
+would rather explore first, before dragging in an alien
+life form. There may have been a mutation or an
+inherited disease that has deformed or warped their
+minds."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't that be sort of self-eliminating?" Brion
+asked. "Anti-survival? People who die before puberty
+would find it a little difficult to pass on a mutation to
+their children. But let's not beat this one point to
+death&mdash;it's the totality of these people that I find so
+hard to accept. Any one thing might be explained
+away, but not the collection of them. What about
+their complete lack of emotion? Or their manner
+of dress and their secrecy in general? The ordinary
+Disan wears a cloth kilt, while the magter cover
+themselves as completely as possible. They stay in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
+their black towers and never go out except in groups.
+Their dead are always removed so they can't be
+examined. In every way they act like a race apart&mdash;and
+I think they are."</p>
+
+<p>"Granted for the moment that this outlandish idea
+might be true, how did they get here? And why
+doesn't anyone know about it besides them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Easily enough explained," Brion insisted. "There
+are no written records on this planet. After the
+Breakdown, when the handful of survivors were just
+trying to exist here, the aliens could have landed and
+moved in. Any interference could have been wiped
+out. Once the population began to grow, the invaders
+found they could keep control by staying separate, so
+their alien difference wouldn't be noticed."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should that bother them?" Lea asked. "If
+they are so indifferent to death, they can't have any
+strong thoughts on public opinion or alien body odor.
+Why would they bother with such a complex camouflage?
+And if they arrived from another planet, what
+has happened to the scientific ability that brought
+them here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Peace," Brion said. "I don't know enough to be
+able even to guess at answers to half your questions.
+I'm just trying to fit a theory to the facts. And the
+facts are clear. The magter are so inhuman they
+would give me nightmares&mdash;if I were sleeping these
+days. What we need is more evidence."</p>
+
+<p>"Then get it," Lea said with finality. "I'm not telling
+you to turn murderer&mdash;but you might try a bit of
+grave-digging. Give me a scalpel and one of your
+friends stretched out on a slab and I'll quickly tell
+you what he is or is not." She turned back to the
+microscope and bent over the eyepiece.</p>
+
+<p>That was really the only way to hack the Gordian
+knot. Dis had only thirty-six more hours to live, so
+individual deaths shouldn't be of any concern. He had
+to find a dead magter, and if none was obtainable in
+the proper condition he had to get one of them by
+violence. For a planetary savior, he was personally
+doing in an awful lot of the citizenry.</p>
+
+<p>He stood behind Lea, looking down at her thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>fully
+while she worked. The back of her neck, lightly
+covered with gently curling hair, was turned toward
+him. With one of the about-face shifts the mind is
+capable of, his thoughts flipped from death to life,
+and he experienced a strong desire to caress this spot
+lightly, to feel the yielding texture of female flesh....</p>
+
+<p>Plunging his hands deep into his pockets, he
+walked quickly to the door. "Get some rest soon," he
+called to her. "I doubt if those bugs will give you the
+answer. I'm going now to see if I can get the full-sized
+specimen you want."</p>
+
+<p>"The truth could be anywhere. I'll stay on these
+until you come back," she said, not looking up from
+the microscope.</p>
+
+<p>Up under the roof was a well-equipped communications
+room. Brion had taken a quick look at it when
+he had first toured the building. The duty operator
+had earphones on&mdash;though only one of the phones
+covered an ear&mdash;and was monitoring through the
+bands. His shoeless feet were on the edge of the
+table, and he was eating a thick sandwich held in his
+free hand. His eyes bulged when he saw Brion in the
+doorway and he jumped into a flurry of action.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold the pose," Brion told him; "it doesn't bother
+me. And if you make any sudden moves you are
+liable to break a phone, electrocute yourself, or choke
+to death. Just see if you can set the transceiver on
+this frequency for me." Brion wrote the number on a
+scratch pad and slid it over to the operator. It was
+the frequency Professor-Commander Krafft had given
+him for the radio of the illegal terrorists&mdash;the Nyjord
+army.</p>
+
+<p>The operator plugged in a handset and gave it to
+Brion. "Circuit open," he mumbled around a mouthful
+of still unswallowed sandwich.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Brandd, director of the C.R.F. Come in,
+please." He went on repeating this for more than ten
+minutes before he got an answer.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>What do you want?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"I have a message of vital urgency for you&mdash;and I
+would also like your help. Do you want any more
+information on the radio?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>No. Wait there&mdash;we'll get in touch with you after
+dark.</i>" The carrier wave went dead.</p>
+
+<p>Thirty-five hours to the end of the world&mdash;and all
+he could do was wait.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2>
+
+
+<p>On Brion's desk when he came in, were two neat
+piles of paper. As he sat down and reached for them
+he was conscious of an arctic coldness in the air, a
+frigid blast. It was coming from the air-conditioner
+grill, which was now covered by welded steel bars.
+The control unit was sealed shut. Someone was either
+being very funny or very efficient. Either way, it
+was cold. Brion kicked at the cover plate until it
+buckled, then bent it aside. After a careful look into
+the interior he disconnected one wire and shorted it
+to another. He was rewarded by a number of sputtering
+cracks and a quantity of smoke. The compressor
+moaned and expired.</p>
+
+<p>Faussel was standing in the door with more papers,
+a shocked expression on his face. "What do you
+have there?" Brion asked.</p>
+
+<p>Faussel managed to straighten out his face and
+brought the folders to the desk, arranging them on
+the piles already there. "These are the progress reports
+you asked for, from all units. Details to date,
+conclusions, suggestions, et cetera."</p>
+
+<p>"And the other pile?" Brion pointed.</p>
+
+<p>"Offplanet correspondence, commissary invoices,
+requisitions." He straightened the edges of the stack
+while he answered. "Daily reports, hospital log...."
+His voice died away and stopped as Brion carefully
+pushed the stack off the edge of the desk into the
+wastebasket.</p>
+
+<p>"In other words, red tape," Brion said. "Well, it's all
+filed."</p>
+
+<p>One by one the progress reports followed the first
+stack into the basket, until the desk was clear. Nothing.
+It was just what he had expected. But there had
+always been the off chance that one of the specialists<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
+could come up with a new approach. They hadn't;
+they were all too busy specializing.</p>
+
+<p>Outside the sky was darkening. The front entrance
+guard had been told to let in anyone who came
+asking for the director. There was nothing else Brion
+could do until the Nyjord rebels made contact. Irritation
+bit at him. At least Lea was doing something
+constructive; he could look in on her.</p>
+
+<p>He opened the door to the lab with a feeling of
+pleasant anticipation. It froze and shattered instantly.
+Her microscope was hooded and she was gone.
+<i>She's having dinner</i>, he thought, or&mdash;<i>she's in the hospital</i>.
+The hospital was on the floor below, and he
+went there first.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course she's here!" Dr. Stine grumbled. "Where
+else should a girl in her condition be? She was out of
+bed long enough today. Tomorrow's the last day, and
+if you want to get any more work out of her before
+the deadline, you had better let her rest tonight.
+Better let the whole staff rest. I've been handing out
+tranquilizers like aspirin all day. They're falling
+apart."</p>
+
+<p>"The world's falling apart. How is Lea doing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Considering her shape, she's fine. Go in and see
+for yourself if you won't take my word for it. I have
+other patients to look at."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you that worried, Doctor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I am! I'm just as prone to the weakness
+of the flesh as the rest of you. We're sitting on a
+ticking bomb and I don't like it. I'll do my job as long
+as it is necessary, but I'll also be damned glad to see
+the ships land to pull us out. The only skin that I
+really feel emotionally concerned about right now is
+my own. And if you want to be let in on a public
+secret&mdash;the rest of your staff feels the same way. So
+don't look forward to too much efficiency."</p>
+
+<p>"I never did," Brion said to the retreating back.</p>
+
+<p>Lea's room was dark, illuminated only by the light
+of Dis's moon slanting in through the window. Brion
+let himself in and closed the door behind him. Walking
+quietly, he went over to the bed. Lea was sleeping
+soundly, her breathing gentle and regular. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>
+night's sleep now would do as much good as all the
+medication.</p>
+
+<p>He should have gone then; instead, he sat down in
+the chair placed next to the head of the bed. The
+guards knew where he was&mdash;he could wait here just
+as well as any place else.</p>
+
+<p>It was a stolen moment of peace on a world at the
+brink of destruction. He was grateful for it. Everything
+looked less harsh in the moonlight, and he
+rubbed some of the tension from his eyes. Lea's face
+was ironed smooth by the light, beautiful and young,
+a direct contrast to everything else on this poisonous
+world. Her hand was outside of the covers and he
+took it in his own, obeying a sudden impulse. Looking
+out of the window at the desert in the distance,
+he let the peace wash over him, forcing himself to
+forget for the moment that in one more day life
+would be stripped from this planet.</p>
+
+<p>Later, when he looked back at Lea he saw that her
+eyes were open, though she hadn't moved. How long
+had she been awake? He jerked his hand away from
+hers, feeling suddenly guilty.</p>
+
+<p>"Is the boss-man looking after the serfs, to see if
+they're fit for the treadmills in the morning?" she
+asked. It was the kind of remark she had used with
+such frequency in the ship, though it didn't sound
+quite as harsh now. And she was smiling. Yet it
+reminded him too well of her superior attitude
+towards rubes from the stellar sticks. Here he might
+be the director, but on ancient Earth he would be
+only one more gaping, lead-footed yokel.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you feel?" he asked, realizing and hating
+the triteness of the words, even as he said them.</p>
+
+<p>"Terrible. I'll be dead by morning. Reach me a
+piece of fruit from that bowl, will you? My mouth
+tastes like an old boot heel. I wonder how fresh fruit
+ever got here. Probably a gift to the working classes
+from the smiling planetary murderers on Nyjord."</p>
+
+<p>She took the apple Brion gave her and bit into it.
+"Did you ever think of going to Earth?"</p>
+
+<p>Brion was startled. This was too close to his own
+thoughts about planetary backgrounds. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
+couldn't possibly be a connection though. "Never," he
+told her. "Up until a few months ago I never even
+considered leaving Anvhar. The Twenties are such a
+big thing at home that it is hard to imagine that
+anything else exists while you are still taking part in
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"Spare me the Twenties," she pleaded. "After listening
+to you and Ihjel, I know far more about them
+than I shall ever care to know. But what about
+Anvhar itself? Do you have big city-states as Earth
+does?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing like that. For its size, it has a very small
+population. No big cities at all. I guess the largest
+centers of population are around the schools, packing
+plants, things like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Any exobiologists there?" Lea asked, with a woman's
+eternal ability to make any general topic personal.</p>
+
+<p>"At the universities, I suppose, though I wouldn't
+know for sure. And you must realize that when I say
+no big cities, I also mean no little cities. We aren't
+organized that way at all. I imagine the basic physical
+unit is the family and the circle of friends. Friends
+get important quickly, since the family breaks up
+when children are still relatively young. Something in
+the genes, I suppose&mdash;we all enjoy being alone. I
+suppose you might call it an inbred survival trait."</p>
+
+<p>"Up to a point," she said, biting delicately into the
+apple. "Carry that sort of thing too far and you end
+up with no population at all. A certain amount of
+proximity is necessary for that."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is. And there must be some form of
+recognized relationship or control&mdash;that or complete
+promiscuity. On Anvhar the emphasis is on personal
+responsibility, and that seems to take care of the
+problem. If we didn't have an adult way of looking at
+... things, our kind of life would be impossible. Individuals
+are brought together either by accident or
+design, and with this proximity must be some certainty
+of relations...."</p>
+
+<p>"You're losing me," Lea protested. "Either I'm still
+foggy from the dope, or you are suddenly unable to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
+speak a word of less than four syllables. You know&mdash;whenever
+this happens with you, I get the distinct
+impression that you are trying to cover up something.
+For Occam's sake, be specific! Bring me together two
+of these hypothetical individuals and tell me what
+happens."</p>
+
+<p>Brion took a deep breath. He was in over his head
+and far from shore. "Well&mdash;take a bachelor like myself.
+Since I like cross-country skiing I make my
+home in this big house our family has, right at the
+edge of the Broken Hills. In summer I looked after a
+drumtum herd, but after slaughtering my time was
+my own all winter. I did a lot of skiing, and used to
+work for the Twenties. Sometimes I would go visiting.
+Then again, people would drop in on me&mdash;houses are
+few and far between on Anvhar. We don't even have
+locks on our doors. You accept and give hospitality
+without qualification. Whoever comes. Male ... female
+... in groups or just traveling alone...."</p>
+
+<p>"I get the drift. Life must be dull for a single girl
+on your iceberg planet. She must surely have to stay
+home a lot."</p>
+
+<p>"Only if she wants to. Otherwise she can go wherever
+she wishes and be welcomed as another individual.
+I suppose it is out of fashion in the rest of the
+galaxy&mdash;and would probably raise a big laugh on
+Earth&mdash;but a platonic, disinterested friendship between
+man and woman is an accepted thing on
+Anvhar."</p>
+
+<p>"Sounds exceedingly dull. If you are all such cool
+and distant friends, how do babies get made?"</p>
+
+<p>Brion felt his ears reddening, not sure if he was
+being teased or not. "The same damn way they get
+made any place else! But it's not just a reflexive
+process like a couple of rabbits that happen to meet
+under the same bush. It's the woman's choice to
+indicate if she is interested in marriage."</p>
+
+<p>"Is marriage the only thing your women are interested
+in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Marriage or ... anything else. That's up to the
+girl. We have a special problem on Anvhar&mdash;probably
+the same thing occurs on every planet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>
+where the human race has made a massive adaptation.
+Not all unions are fertile and there is always a
+large percentage of miscarriages. A large number of
+births are conceived by artificial insemination. Which
+is all right when you can't have babies normally. But
+most women have an emotional bias towards having
+their husband's children. And there is only one way
+to find out if this is possible."</p>
+
+<p>Lea's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting that your
+girls see if a man can father children <i>before</i> considering
+marriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Otherwise Anvhar would have been
+depopulated centuries ago. Therefore the woman
+does the choosing. If she is interested in a man, she
+says so. If she is not interested, the man would never
+think of suggesting anything. It's a lot different from
+other planets, but so is our planet Anvhar. It works
+well for us, which is the only test that applies."</p>
+
+<p>"Just about the opposite of Earth," Lea told him,
+dropping the apple core into a dish and carefully
+licking the tips of her fingers. "I guess you Anvharians
+would describe Earth as a planetary hotbed of
+sexuality. The reverse of your system, and going full
+blast all the time. There are far too many people
+there for comfort. Birth control came late and is still
+being fought&mdash;if you can possibly imagine that.
+There are just too many of the archaic religions still
+around, as well as crackbrained ideas that have been
+long entrenched in custom. The world's overcrowded.
+Men, women, children, a boiling mob
+wherever you look. And all of the physically mature
+ones seem to be involved in the Great Game of Love.
+The male is always the aggressor. Not physically&mdash;at
+least not often&mdash;and women take the most outrageous
+kinds of flattery for granted. At parties there are
+always a couple of hot breaths of passion fanning
+your neck. A girl has to keep her spike heels filed
+sharp."</p>
+
+<p>"She has to <i>what</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"A figure of speech, Brion. Meaning you fight back
+all the time, if you don't want to be washed under by
+the flood."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Sounds rather"&mdash;Brion weighed the word before
+he said it, but could find none other suitable&mdash;"repellent."</p>
+
+<p>"From your point of view, it would be. I'm afraid
+we get so used to it that we even take it for granted.
+Sociologically speaking...." She stopped and looked
+at Brion's straight back and almost rigid posture. Her
+eyes widened and her mouth opened in an unspoken
+<i>oh</i> of sudden realization.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm being a fool," she said. "You weren't speaking
+generally at all! You had a very specific subject in
+mind. Namely <i>me</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Please, Lea, you must understand...."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do!" She laughed. "All the time I thought
+you were being a frigid and hard-hearted lump of
+ice, you were really being very sweet. Just playing
+the game in good old Anvharian style. Waiting for a
+sign from me. We'd still be playing by different rules
+if you hadn't had more sense than I, and finally
+realized that somewhere along the line we must have
+got our signals mixed. And I thought you were some
+kind of frosty offworld celibate." She let her hand go
+out and her fingers rustled through his hair. Something
+she had been wanting to do for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>"I had to," he said, trying to ignore the light touch
+of her fingers. "Because I thought so much of you, I
+couldn't have done anything to insult you. Such as
+forcing my attentions on you. Until I began to worry
+where the insult would lie, since I knew nothing
+about your planet's mores."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know now," she said very softly. "The
+men aggress. Now that I understand, I think I like
+your way better. But I'm still not sure of all the rules.
+Do I explain that yes, Brion, I like you so very much?
+You are more man, in one great big wide-shouldered
+lump, than I have ever met before. It's not quite the
+time or the place to discuss marriage, but I would
+certainly like&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His arms were around her, holding her to him. Her
+hands clasped him and their lips sought each other's
+in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"Gently ..." she whispered. "I bruise easily...."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>"He wouldn't come in, sir. Just hammered on the
+door and said, '<i>I'm here, tell Brandd.</i>'"</p>
+
+<p>"Good enough," Brion said, fitting his gun in the
+holster and sliding the extra clips into his pocket. "I'm
+going out now, and I should return before dawn. Get
+one of the wheeled stretchers down here from the
+hospital. I'll want it waiting when I get back."</p>
+
+<p>Outside, the street was darker than he remembered.
+Brion frowned and his hand moved towards
+his gun. Someone had put all the nearby lights out of
+commission. There was just enough illumination from
+the stars to enable him to make out the dark bulk of
+a sand car.</p>
+
+<p>"Brion Brandd?" a voice spoke harshly from the
+car. "Get in."</p>
+
+<p>The motor roared as soon as he had closed the
+door. Without lights the sand car churned a path
+through the city and out into the desert. Though the
+speed picked up, the driver still drove in the dark,
+feeling his way with a light touch on the controls.
+The ground rose, and when they reached the top of a
+mesa he killed the engine. Neither the driver nor
+Brion had spoken a word since they left.</p>
+
+<p>A switch snapped and the instrument lights came
+on. In their dim glow Brion could just make out the
+other man's hawklike profile. When he moved, Brion
+saw that his figure was cruelly shortened. Either accident
+or a mutated gene had warped his spine,
+hunching him forward in eternally bent supplication.
+Warped bodies were rare&mdash;his was the first Brion had
+ever seen. He wondered what series of events had
+kept him from medical attention all his life. This
+might explain the bitterness and pain in the man's
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Did the mighty brains on Nyjord bother to tell you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>
+that they have chopped another day off the deadline?"
+the man asked. "That this world is about to
+come to an end?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know," Brion said. "That's why I'm asking
+your group for help. Our time is running out too
+fast."</p>
+
+<p>The man didn't answer; he merely grunted and
+gave his full attention to the radar pings and glowing
+screen. The electronic senses reached out as he made
+a check on all the search frequencies to see if they
+were being followed.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are we going?" Brion asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Out into the desert." The driver made a vague
+wave of his hand. "Headquarters of the army. Since
+the whole thing will be blown up in another day, I
+guess I can tell you it's the only camp we have. All
+the cars, men and weapons are based there. And Hys.
+He's the man in charge. Tomorrow it will be all
+gone&mdash;along with this cursed planet. What's your
+business with us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shouldn't I be telling Hys that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Suit yourself." Satisfied with the instrument
+search, the driver kicked the car to life again and
+churned on across the desert. "But we're a volunteer
+army and we have no secrets from each other. Just
+from the fools at home who are going to kill this
+world." There was a bitterness in his words that he
+made no attempt to conceal. "They fought among
+themselves and put off a firm decision so long that
+now they are forced to commit murder."</p>
+
+<p>"From what I had heard, I thought that it was the
+other way around. They call your Nyjord army terrorists."</p>
+
+<p>"We are. Because we are an army and we're at
+war. The idealists at home only understood that
+when it was too late. If they had backed us in the
+beginning we would have blown open every black
+castle on Dis, searched until we found those bombs.
+But that would have meant wanton destruction and
+death. They wouldn't consider that. Now they are
+going to kill everyone, destroy everything." He flicked
+on the panel lights just long enough to take a com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>pass
+bearing, and Brion saw the tortured unhappiness
+in his twisted body.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not over yet," Brion said. "There is more than
+a day left, and I think I'm onto something that might
+stop the war&mdash;without any bombs being dropped."</p>
+
+<p>"You're in charge of the Cultural Relationships
+Free Bread and Blankets Foundation, aren't you?
+What good can your bunch do when the shooting
+starts?"</p>
+
+<p>"None. But maybe we can put off the shooting. If
+you are trying to insult me&mdash;don't bother. My irritation
+quotient is very high."</p>
+
+<p>The driver merely grunted at this, slowing down as
+they ran through a field of broken rock. "What is it
+you want?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"We want to make a detailed examination of one of
+the magter. Alive or dead, it doesn't make any difference.
+You wouldn't happen to have one around?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. We've fought with them often enough, but
+always on their home grounds. They keep all their
+casualties, and a good number of ours. What good
+will it do you anyway? A dead one won't tell you
+where the bombs or the jump-space projector is."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why I should explain that to you&mdash;unless
+you are in charge. You are Hys, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>The driver gave an angry sound, and then was
+silent while he drove. Finally he asked, "What makes
+you think that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Call it a hunch. You don't act very much like a
+sand-car driver, for one thing. Of course your army
+may be all generals and no privates&mdash;but I doubt it. I
+also know that time has almost run out for all of us.
+This is a long ride and it would be a complete waste
+of time if you just sat out in the desert and waited for
+me. By driving me yourself you could make your
+mind up before we arrived. Could have a decision
+ready as to whether you are going to help me or not.
+Are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I'm Hys. But you still haven't answered my
+question. What do you want the body for?"</p>
+
+<p>"We're going to cut it open and take a good long
+look. I don't think the magter are human. They are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
+something living among men and disguised as men&mdash;but
+still not human."</p>
+
+<p>"Secret aliens?" Hys exploded the words in a mixture
+of surprise and disgust.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps. The examination will tell us that."</p>
+
+<p>"You're either stupid or incompetent," Hys said bitterly.
+"The heat of Dis has cooked your brains in your
+head. I'll be no part of this kind of absurd plan."</p>
+
+<p>"You must," Brion said, surprised at his own
+calmness. He could sense the other man's interest
+hidden behind his insulting manner. "I don't even
+have to give you my reasons. In another day this
+world ends and you have no way to stop it. I just
+might have an idea that could work, and you can't
+afford to take any chances&mdash;not if you are really
+sincere. Either you are a murderer, killing Disans for
+pleasure, or you honestly want to stop the war.
+Which is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have your body all right," Hys grated, hurling
+the car viciously around a spire of rock. "Not that
+it will accomplish anything&mdash;but I can find no fault
+with killing another magter. We can fit your operation
+into our plans without any trouble. This is the
+last night and I have sent every one of my teams out
+on raids. We're breaking into as many magter towers
+as possible before dawn. There is a slim chance that
+we might uncover something. It's really just shooting
+in the dark, but it's all we can do now. My own team
+is waiting and you can ride along with us. The others
+left earlier. We're going to hit a small tower on this
+side of the city. We raided it once before and captured
+a lot of small arms they had stored there. There
+is a good chance that they may have been stupid
+enough to store something there again. Sometimes
+the magter seem to suffer from a complete lack of
+imagination."</p>
+
+<p>"You have no idea just how right you are," Brion
+told him.</p>
+
+<p>The sand car slowed down now, as they approached
+a slab-sided mesa that rose vertically from
+the desert. They crunched across broken rocks, leaving
+no tracks. A light blinked on the dashboard, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>
+Hys stopped instantly and killed the engine. They
+climbed out, stretching and shivering in the cold
+desert night.</p>
+
+<p>It was dark walking in the shadow of the cliff and
+they had to feel their way along a path through the
+tumbled boulders. A sudden blaze of light made
+Brion wince and shield his eyes. Near him, on the
+ground, was the humming shape of a cancellation
+projector, sending out a fan-shaped curtain of vibration
+that absorbed all the light rays falling upon it.
+This incredible blackness made a lightproof wall for
+the recessed hollow at the foot of the cliff. In this
+shelter, under the overhang of rock, were three open
+sand cars. They were large and armor-plated, warlike
+in their scarred grey paint. Men sprawled, talked,
+and polished their weapons. Everything stopped
+when Hys and Brion appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Load up," Hys called out. "We're going to attack
+now, same plan I outlined earlier. Get Telt over
+here." In talking to his own men some of the harshness
+was gone from his voice. The tall soldiers of
+Nyjord moved in ready obeyance of their commander.
+They loomed over his bent figure, most of them
+twice as tall as he, but there was no hesitation in
+jumping when he commanded. They were the body
+of the Nyjord striking force&mdash;he was the brains.</p>
+
+<p>A square-cut, compact man rolled up to Hys and
+saluted with a leisurely flick of his hand. He was
+weighted and slung about with packs and electronic
+instruments. His pockets bulged with small tools and
+spare parts.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Telt," Hys said to Brion. "He'll take care of
+you. Telt's my personal technical squad. He goes
+along on all my operations with his meters to test the
+interiors of the Disan forts. So far he's found no trace
+of a jump-space generator, or excess radioactivity
+that might indicate a bomb. Since he's useless and
+you're useless, you both take care of each other. Use
+the car we came in."</p>
+
+<p>Telt's wide face split in a froglike grin; his voice
+was hoarse and throaty. "Wait. Just wait! Someday<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>
+those needles gonna flicker and all our troubles be
+over. What you want me to do with the stranger?"</p>
+
+<p>"Supply him with a corpse&mdash;one of the magter,"
+Hys said. "Take it wherever he wants and then report
+back here." Hys scowled at Telt. "Someday your needles
+will flicker! Poor fool&mdash;this is the last day." He
+turned away and waved the men into their sand cars.</p>
+
+<p>"He likes me," Telt said, attaching a final piece of
+equipment. "You can tell because he calls me names
+like that. He's a great man, Hys is, but they never
+found out until it was too late. Hand me that meter,
+will you?"</p>
+
+<p>Brion followed the technician out to the car and
+helped him load his equipment aboard. When the
+larger cars appeared out of the darkness, Telt swung
+around after them. They snaked forward in a single
+line through the rocks, until they came to the desert
+of rolling sand dunes. Then they spread out in line
+abreast and rushed towards their goal.</p>
+
+<p>Telt hummed to himself hoarsely as he drove. He
+broke off suddenly and looked at Brion. "What you
+want the dead Dis for?"</p>
+
+<p>"A theory," Brion answered sluggishly. He had been
+half napping in the chair, taking the opportunity for
+some rest before the attack. "I'm still looking for a
+way to avert the end."</p>
+
+<p>"You and Hys," Telt said with satisfaction. "Couple
+of idealists. Trying to stop a war you didn't start.
+They never would listen to Hys. He told them in the
+beginning exactly what would happen, and he was
+right. They always thought his ideas were crooked,
+like him. Growing up alone in the hill camp, with his
+back too twisted and too old to be fixed when he
+finally did come out. Ideas twisted the same way.
+Made himself an authority on war. Hah! War on
+Nyjord&mdash;that's like being an ice-cube specialist in
+hell. But he knew all about it, though they never
+would let him use what he knew. Put granddaddy
+Krafft in charge instead."</p>
+
+<p>"But Hys is in charge of an army now?"</p>
+
+<p>"All volunteers, too few of them and too little
+money. Too little and too damned late to do any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
+good. I'll tell you we did our best, but it could never
+be good enough. And for this we get called butchers."
+There was a catch in Telt's voice now, an undercurrent
+of emotion he couldn't suppress. "At home
+they think we like to kill. Think we're insane. They
+can't understand we're doing the only thing that has
+to be done&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He broke off as he quickly locked on the brakes and
+killed the engine. The line of sand cars had come to a
+stop. Ahead, just visible over the dunes, was the
+summit of a dark tower.</p>
+
+<p>"We walk from here," Telt said, standing and
+stretching. "We can take our time, because the other
+boys go in first, soften things up. Then you and I head
+for the sub-cellar for a radiation check and find you
+a handsome corpse."</p>
+
+<p>Walking at first, then crawling when the dunes no
+longer shielded them, they crept up on the Disan
+keep. Dark figures moved ahead of them, stopping
+only when they reached the crumbling black walls.
+They didn't use the ascending ramp, but made their
+way up the sheer outside face of the ramparts.</p>
+
+<p>"Line-throwers," Telt whispered. "Anchor themselves
+when the missile hits, have some kind of quick-setting
+goo. Then we go up the filament with a
+line-climbing motor. Hys invented them."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the way you and I are going in?" Brion
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No, we get out of the climbing. I told you we hit
+this rock once before. I know the layout inside." He
+was moving while he talked, carefully pacing the
+distance around the base of the tower. "Should be
+right about here."</p>
+
+<p>High-pitched keening sliced the air and the top of
+the magter building burst into flame. Automatic
+weapons hammered above them. Something fell
+silently through the night and hit heavily on the
+ground near them.</p>
+
+<p>"Attack's started," Telt shouted. "We have to get
+through now, while all the creepies are fighting it out
+on top." He pulled a plate-shaped object from one of
+his bags and slapped it hard against the wall. It hung<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>
+there. He twisted the back of it, pulled something and
+waved Brion to the ground. "Shaped charge. Should
+blow straight in, but you never can tell."</p>
+
+<p>The ground jumped under them and the ringing
+thud was a giant fist punching through the wall. A
+cloud of dust and smoke rolled clear and they could
+see the dark opening in the rock, a tunnel driven into
+the wall by the directional force of the explosion.
+Telt shone a light through the hole at the crumbled
+chamber inside.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to worry about from anybody who was
+leaning against this wall. But let's get in and out of
+this black beehive before the ones upstairs come down
+to investigate."</p>
+
+<p>Shattered rock was thick on the floor, and they
+skidded and tumbled over it. Telt pointed the way
+with his light, down a sharply angled ramp. "Underground
+chambers in the rock. They always store their
+stuff down there&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A smoking, black sphere arced out of the tunnel's
+mouth, hitting at their feet. Telt just gaped, but even
+as it hit the floor Brion was jumping forward. He
+caught it with the side of his foot, kicking it back into
+the dark opening of the tunnel. Telt hit the ground
+next to him as the orange flame of an explosion burst
+below. Bits of shrapnel rattled from the ceiling and
+wall behind them.</p>
+
+<p>"Grenades!" Telt gasped. "They've only used them
+once before&mdash;can't have many. Gotta warn Hys." He
+plugged a throat mike into the transmitter on his
+tack and spoke quickly into it. There was a stirring
+below and Brion poured a rain of fire into the tunnel.</p>
+
+<p>"They're catching it bad on top, too! We gotta pull
+out. Go first and I'll cover you."</p>
+
+<p>"I came for my Disan&mdash;I'm not leaving until I get
+one."</p>
+
+<p>"You're crazy! You're dead if you stay!"</p>
+
+<p>Telt was scrambling back towards the crumbled
+entrance as he talked. His back was turned when
+Brion fired. The magter had appeared silently as the
+shadow of death. They charged without a sound,
+running with expressionless faces into the bullets.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>
+Two died at once, curling and folding; the third one
+fell at Brion's feet. Shot, pierced, dying, but not yet
+dead. Leaving a crimson track, it hunched closer,
+lifting its knife to Brion. He didn't move. How many
+times must you murder a man? Or was it a man? His
+mind and body rebelled against the killing, and he
+was almost ready to accept death himself, rather than
+kill again.</p>
+
+<p>Telt's bullets tore through the body and it dropped
+with grim finality.</p>
+
+<p>"There's your corpse&mdash;now get it out of here!" Telt
+screeched.</p>
+
+<p>Between them they worked the sodden weight of
+the dead magter through the hole, their exposed backs
+crawling with the expectation of instant death. No
+further attack came as they ran from the tower, other
+than a grenade that exploded too far behind them to
+do any harm.</p>
+
+<p>One of the armored sand cars circled the keep,
+headlights blazing, keeping up a steady fire from its
+heavy weapons. The attackers climbed into it as they
+beat a retreat. Telt and Brion dragged the Disan
+behind them, struggling through the loose sand
+towards the circling car. Telt glanced over his shoulder
+and broke into a shambling run.</p>
+
+<p>"They're following us!" he gasped. "The first time
+they ever chased us after a raid!"</p>
+
+<p>"They must know we have the body," Brion said.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave it behind ..." Telt choked. "Too heavy to
+carry ... anyway!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather leave you," Brion said sharply. "Let me
+have it." He pulled the corpse away from the unresisting
+Telt and heaved it across his own shoulders.
+"Now use your gun to cover us!"</p>
+
+<p>Telt threw a rain of slugs back towards the dark
+figures following them. The driver of the sand car
+must have seen the flare of their fire, because the
+truck turned and started towards them. It braked in
+a choking cloud of dust and ready hands reached to
+pull them up. Brion pushed the body in ahead of
+himself and scrambled after it. The truck engine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>
+throbbed and they churned away into the blackness,
+away from the gutted tower.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, that was more like kind of a joke,
+when I said I'd leave the corpse behind," Telt told
+Brion. "You didn't believe me, did you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Brion said, holding the dead weight of the
+magter against the truck's side. "I thought you meant
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Ahhh," Telt protested, "you're as bad as Hys. You
+take things too seriously."</p>
+
+<p>Brion suddenly realized that he was wet with
+blood, his clothing sodden. His stomach rose at the
+thought and he clutched the edge of the sand car.
+Killing like this was too personal. Talking abstractedly
+about a body was one thing, but murdering a man,
+then lifting his dead flesh and feeling his blood warm
+upon you is an entirely different matter. But the
+magter weren't human, he knew that. The thought
+was only mildly comforting.</p>
+
+<p>After they had reached the other waiting sand
+cars, the raiding party split up. "Each one goes in a
+different direction," Telt said, "so they can't track us
+to the base." He clipped a piece of paper next to the
+compass and kicked the motor into life. "We'll make
+a big U in the desert and end up in Hovedstad. I got
+the course here. Then I'll dump you and your friends
+and beat it back to our camp. You're not still burned
+at me for what I said, are you? Are you?"</p>
+
+<p>Brion didn't answer. He was staring fixedly out of
+the side window.</p>
+
+<p>"What's doing?" Telt asked. Brion pointed out at
+the rushing darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"Over there," he said, pointing to the growing light
+on the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>"Dawn," Telt said. "Lotta rain on your planet?
+Didn't you ever see the sun come up before?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not on the last day of a world."</p>
+
+<p>"Lock it up," Telt grumbled. "You give me the
+crawls. I know they're going to be blasted. But at
+least I know I did everything I could to stop it. How
+do you think they are going to be feeling at home&mdash;on
+Nyjord&mdash;from tomorrow on?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Maybe we can still stop it," Brion said, shrugging
+off the feeling of gloom. Telt's only answer was a
+wordless sound of disgust.</p>
+
+<p>By the time they had cut a large loop in the desert
+the sun was well up in the sky, the daily heat begun.
+Their course took them through a chain of low, flinty
+hills that cut their speed almost to zero. They ground
+ahead in low gear while Telt sweated and cursed,
+struggling with the controls. Then they were on firm
+sand and picking up speed towards the city.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Brion saw Hovedstad clearly he felt a
+clutch of fear. From somewhere in the city a black
+plume of smoke was rising. It could have been one of
+the deserted buildings aflame, a minor blaze. Yet the
+closer they came, the greater his tension grew. Brion
+didn't dare put it into words himself; it was Telt who
+vocalized the thought.</p>
+
+<p>"A fire or something. Coming from your area,
+somewhere close to your building."</p>
+
+<p>Within the city they saw the first signs of destruction.
+Broken rubble on the streets. The smell of
+greasy smoke in their nostrils. More and more people
+appeared, going in the same direction they were. The
+normally deserted streets of Hovedstad were now
+almost crowded. Disans, obvious by their bare shoulders,
+mixed with the few offworlders who still remained.</p>
+
+<p>Brion made sure the tarpaulin was well wrapped
+around the body before they pushed the sand car
+slowly through the growing crowd.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like all this publicity," Telt complained,
+looking at the people. "It's the last day, or I'd be
+turning back. They know our cars; we've raided them
+often enough." Turning a corner, he braked suddenly,
+mouth agape.</p>
+
+<p>Ahead was destruction. Black, broken rubble had
+been churned into desolation. It was still smoking,
+pink tongues of flame licking over the ruins. A fragment
+of wall fell with a rumbling crash.</p>
+
+<p>"It's your building&mdash;the Foundation building!" Telt
+shouted. "They've been here ahead of us&mdash;must have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>
+used the radio to call a raid. They did a job, explosive
+of some kind."</p>
+
+<p>Hope was dead. Dis was dead. In the ruin ahead,
+mixed and broken with other rubble, were the bodies
+of all the people who had trusted him. Lea ... beautiful
+and cruelly dead Lea. Doctor Stine, his patients,
+Faussel, all of them. He had kept them on this planet,
+and now they were dead. Every one of them. Dead.</p>
+
+<p>Murderer!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2>
+
+
+<p>Life was ended. Brion's mind contained nothing
+but despair and the pain of irretrievable loss. If his
+brain had been completely the master of his body he
+would have died there, for at that moment there was
+no will to live. Unaware of this, his heart continued
+to beat and the regular motion of his lungs drew in
+the dreadful sweetness of the smoke-tainted air. With
+automatic directness his body lived on.</p>
+
+<p>"What you gonna do?" Telt asked, even his natural
+exuberation stilled by this. Brion only shook his head
+as the words penetrated. What could he do? What
+could possibly be done?</p>
+
+<p>"Follow me," a voice said in guttural Disan through
+the opening of a rear window. The speaker was lost
+in the crowd before they could turn. Aware now,
+Brion saw a native move away from the edge of the
+crowd and turn to look in their direction. It was Ulv.</p>
+
+<p>"Turn the car&mdash;that way!" He punched Telt's arm
+and pointed. "Do it slowly and don't draw any attention
+to us." For a moment there was hope, which he
+kept himself from considering. The building was
+gone, and the people in it all dead. That fact had to
+be faced.</p>
+
+<p>"What's going on?" Telt asked. "Who was that
+talked in the window?"</p>
+
+<p>"A native&mdash;that one up ahead. He saved my life in
+the desert, and I think he is on our side. Even though
+he's a native Disan, he can understand facts that the
+magter can't. He knows what will happen to this
+planet." Brion was talking to fill his brain with words
+so he wouldn't begin to have hope. There was no
+hope possible.</p>
+
+<p>Ulv moved slowly and naturally through the streets,
+never looking back. They followed, as far behind as
+they dared, yet still keeping him in sight. Fewer peo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>ple
+were about here among the deserted offworld
+storehouses. Ulv vanished into one of these; LIGHT
+METALS TRUST LTD., the sign read above the door.
+Telt slowed the car.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't stop here," Brion said. "Drive around the
+corner, and pull up."</p>
+
+<p>Brion climbed out of the car with an ease he did
+not feel. No one was in sight now, in either direction.
+Walking slowly back to the corner, he checked the
+street they had just left. Hot, silent and empty.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden blackness appeared where the door of
+the warehouse had been, and the sudden flickering
+motion of a hand. Brion signaled Telt to start, and
+jumped into the already moving sand car.</p>
+
+<p>"Into that open door&mdash;quickly, before anyone sees
+us!" The car rumbled down a ramp into the dark
+interior and the door slid shut behind them.</p>
+
+<p>"Ulv! What is it? Where are you?" Brion called,
+blinking in the murky interior. A grey form appeared
+beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"I am here."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you&mdash;" There was no way to finish the sentence.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard of the raid. The magter called together all
+of us they could to help them carry explosive. I went
+along. I could not stop them, and there was no time
+to warn anyone in the building."</p>
+
+<p>"Then they are all dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Ulv nodded. "All except one. I knew I could
+perhaps save one; I was not sure who. So I took the
+woman you were with in the desert&mdash;she is here
+now. She was hurt, but not badly, when I brought
+her out."</p>
+
+<p>Guilty relief flooded through Brion. He shouldn't
+exult, not with the death of everyone in the Foundation
+still fresh in his mind. But at that instant he was
+happy.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see her," he said to Ulv. He was seized by
+the sudden fear that there might be a mistake. Perhaps
+Ulv had saved a different woman.</p>
+
+<p>Ulv led the way across the empty loading bay.
+Brion followed closely, fighting down the temptation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
+to tell him to hurry. When he saw that Ulv was
+heading towards an office in the far wall, he could
+control himself no longer and ran on ahead.</p>
+
+<p>It was Lea, lying unconscious on a couch. Sweat
+beaded her face and she moaned and stirred without
+opening her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I gave her <i>sover</i>, then wrapped her in cloth so no
+one would know," Ulv said.</p>
+
+<p>Telt was close behind them, looking in through the
+open door.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Sover</i> is a drug they take from one of their
+plants," he said. "We got a lot of experience with it.
+A little makes a good knock-out drug, but it's deadly
+poison in large doses. I got the antidote in the car;
+wait and I'll get it." He went out.</p>
+
+<p>Brion sat next to Lea and wiped her face clean of
+dirt and perspiration. The dark shadows under her
+eyes were almost black now and her elfin face
+seemed even thinner. But she was alive&mdash;that was
+the important thing.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the tension drained away from Brion and
+he could think again. There was still the job to do.
+After this last experience Lea should be in a hospital
+bed. But this was impossible. He would have to drag
+her to her feet and put her back to work. The answer
+might still be found. Each second ticked away another
+fraction of the planet's life.</p>
+
+<p>"Good as new in a minute," Telt said, banging
+down the heavy med box. He watched intently as Ulv
+left the room. "Hys should know about this renegade.
+Might be useful as a spy, or for information&mdash;though
+of course it's too late now to do anything, so the hell
+with it." He pulled a pistol-shaped hypodermic gun
+from the box and dialed a number on the side. "Now,
+if you'll roll her sleeve up I'll bring her back to life."
+He pressed the bell-shaped sterilizing muzzle against
+her skin and pulled the trigger. The hypo gun
+hummed briefly, ending its cycle with a loud click.</p>
+
+<p>"Does it work fast?" Brion asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Couple of minutes. Just let her be and she'll come
+to by herself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Ulv was in the doorway. "Killer!" he hissed. His
+blowgun was in his hand, half raised to his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"He's been in the car&mdash;he's seen it!" Telt shouted
+and grabbed for his gun.</p>
+
+<p>Brion sprang between them, raising his hands. "Stop
+it! No more killing!" he shouted in Disan. Then he
+shook his fist at Telt. "Fire that gun and I'll stuff it
+down your throat. I'll handle this." He turned to face
+Ulv, who hadn't brought the blowgun any closer to
+his lips. This was a good sign&mdash;the Disan was still
+uncertain.</p>
+
+<p>"You have seen the body in the car, Ulv. So you
+must have seen that it is that of a magter. I killed
+him myself, because I would rather kill one, or ten, or
+even a hundred men than have everyone on this
+planet destroyed. I killed him in a fair fight and now
+I am going to examine his body. There is something
+very strange and different about the magter, you
+know that yourself. If I can find out what it is, perhaps
+we can make them stop this war, and not bomb
+Nyjord."</p>
+
+<p>Ulv was still angry, but he lowered the blowgun a
+little. "I wish there were no offworlders," he said. "I
+wish that none of you had ever come. Nothing was
+wrong until you started coming. The magter were the
+strongest, and they killed; but they also helped. Now
+they want to fight a war with your weapons, and for
+this you are going to kill my world. And you want me
+to help you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not me&mdash;yourself!" Brion said wearily. "There's no
+going back, that's the one thing we can't do. Maybe
+Dis would have been better off without offplanet
+contact. Maybe not. In any case, you have to forget
+about that. You have contact now with the rest of the
+galaxy, for better or for worse. You've got a problem
+to solve, and I'm here to help you solve it."</p>
+
+<p>Seconds ticked by as Ulv, unmoving, fought with
+questions that were novel to his life. Could killing stop
+death? Could he help his people by helping strangers
+to fight and kill them? His world had changed and he
+didn't like it. He must make a giant effort to change
+with it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Abruptly, he pushed the blowgun into a thong at
+his waist, turned and strode out.</p>
+
+<p>"Too much for my nerves," Telt said, settling his
+gun back in the holster. "You don't know how happy
+I'm gonna be when this whole damn thing is over.
+Even if the planet goes bang, I don't care. I'm
+finished." He walked out to the sand car, keeping a
+careful eye on the Disan crouched against the wall.</p>
+
+<p>Brion turned back to Lea, whose eyes were open,
+staring at the ceiling. He went to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Running," she said, and her voice had a toneless
+emptiness that screamed louder than any emotion.
+"They ran by the open door of my room and I could
+see them when they killed Dr. Stine. Just butchered
+him like an animal, chopping him down. Then one
+came into the room and that's all I remember." She
+turned her head slowly and looked at Brion. "What
+happened? Why am I here?"</p>
+
+<p>"They're ... dead," he told her. "All of them. After
+the raid the Disans blew up the building. You're the
+only one that survived. That was Ulv who came into
+your room, the Disan we met in the desert. He
+brought you away and hid you here in the city."</p>
+
+<p>"When do we leave?" she asked in the same empty
+tones, turning her face to the wall. "When do we get
+off this planet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Today is the last day. The deadline is midnight.
+Krafft will have a ship pick us up when we are
+ready. But we still have our job to do. I've got that
+body. You're going to have to examine it. We must
+find out about the magter...."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing can be done now except leave." Her voice
+was a dull monotone. "There is only so much that a
+person can do, and I've done it. Please have the ship
+come; I want to leave now."</p>
+
+<p>Brion bit his lip in helpless frustration. Nothing
+seemed to penetrate the apathy into which she had
+sunk. Too much shock, too much terror, in too short a
+time. He took her chin in his hand and turned her
+head to face him. She didn't resist, but her eyes were
+shining with tears; tears trickled down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Take me home, Brion, please take me home."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He could only brush her sodden hair back from her
+face, and force himself to smile at her. The moments
+of time were running out, faster and faster, and he no
+longer knew what to do. The examination had to be
+made&mdash;yet he couldn't force her. He looked for the
+med box and saw that Telt had taken it back to the
+sand car. There might be something in it that could
+help&mdash;a tranquilizer perhaps.</p>
+
+<p>Telt had some of his instruments open on the chart
+table and was examining a tape with a pocket magnifier
+when Brion entered. He jumped nervously and
+put the tape behind his back, then relaxed when he
+saw who it was.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were the creepie out there, coming
+for a look," he whispered. "Maybe you trust him&mdash;but
+I can't afford to. Can't even use the radio. I'm getting
+out of here now. I have to tell Hys!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him what?" Brion asked sharply. "What is all
+the mystery about?"</p>
+
+<p>Telt handed him the magnifier and tape. "Look at
+that&mdash;recording tape from my scintillation counter.
+Red verticals are five-minute intervals, the wiggly
+black horizontal line is the radioactivity level. All this
+where the line goes up and down, that's when we
+were driving out to the attack. Varying hot level of
+the rock and ground."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the big peak in the middle?"</p>
+
+<p>"That coincides exactly with our visit to the house
+of horrors! When we went through the hole in the
+bottom of the tower!" He couldn't keep the excitement
+out of his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Does it mean that...."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I'm not sure. I have to compare it
+with the other tapes back at base. It could be the
+stone of the tower&mdash;some of these heavy rocks have
+got a high natural count. There maybe could be a
+box of instruments there with fluorescent dials. Or it
+might be one of those tactical atom bombs they threw
+at us already. Some arms runner sold them a few."</p>
+
+<p>"Or it could be the cobalt bombs?"</p>
+
+<p>"It could be," Telt said, packing his instruments
+swiftly. "A badly shielded bomb, or an old one with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>
+crack in the skin, could give a trace like that. Just a
+little radon leaking out would do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you call Hys on the radio and let him
+know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want Granddaddy Krafft's listening posts
+to hear about it. This is our job&mdash;if I'm right. And I
+have to check my old tapes to make sure. But it's
+gonna be worth a raid, I can feel that in my bones.
+Let's unload your corpse." He helped Brion with the
+clumsy, wrapped bundle, then slipped into the driver's
+seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold it," Brion said. "Do you have anything in the
+med box I can use for Lea? She seems to have
+cracked. Not hysterical, but withdrawn. Won't listen
+to reason, won't do anything but lie there and ask to
+go home."</p>
+
+<p>"Got the potion here," Telt said, cracking the med
+box. "Slaughter-syndrome is what our medic calls it.
+Hit a lot of our boys. Grow up all your life hating the
+idea of violence, and it goes rough when you have to
+start killing people. Guys break up, break down, go
+to pieces lots of different ways. The medic mixed up
+this stuff. Don't know how it works, probably tranquilizers
+and some of the cortex drugs. But it peels
+off recent memories. Maybe for the last ten, twelve
+hours. You can't get upset about what you don't
+remember." He pulled out a sealed package. "Directions
+on the box. Good luck."</p>
+
+<p>"Luck," Brion said, and shook the technician's calloused
+hand. "Let me know if the traces are strong
+enough to be bombs." He checked the street to make
+sure it was clear, then pressed the door button. The
+sand car churned out into the brilliant sunshine and
+was gone, the throb of its motor dying in the distance.
+Brion closed the door and went back to Lea.
+Ulv was still crouched against the wall.</p>
+
+<p>There was a one-shot disposable hypodermic in the
+box. Lea made no protest when he broke the seal and
+pressed the needle against her arm. She sighed and
+her eyes closed again.</p>
+
+<p>When he saw she was resting easily, he dragged in
+the tarpaulin-wrapped body of the magter. A work-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>bench
+ran along one wall and he struggled the corpse
+up onto it. He unwrapped the tarpaulin and the sightless
+eyes stared accusingly up into his.</p>
+
+<p>Using his knife, Brion cut away the loose, blood-soaked
+clothing. Strapped under the clothes, around
+the man's waist, was the familiar collection of Disan
+artifacts. This could have significance either way.
+Human or humanoid, the creature would still have to
+live on Dis. Brion threw it aside, along with the
+clothing. Nude, pierced, bloody, the corpse lay before
+him.</p>
+
+<p>In every external physical detail the man was human.</p>
+
+<p>Brion's theory was becoming more preposterous
+with each discovery. If the magter weren't alien, how
+could he explain their complete lack of emotions? A
+mutation of some kind? He didn't see how it was
+possible. There <i>had</i> to be something alien about the
+dead man before him. The future of a world rested
+on this flimsy hope. If Telt's lead to the bombs
+proved to be false, there would be no hope left at all.</p>
+
+<p>Lea was still unconscious when he looked at her
+again. There was no way of telling how long the
+coma would last. He would probably have to waken
+her out of it, but he didn't want to do it too early.
+It took an effort to control his impatience, even though
+he knew the drug needed time in which to work. He
+finally decided on at least a minimum of an hour before
+he should try to disturb her. That would be noon&mdash;twelve
+hours before destruction.</p>
+
+<p>One thing he should do was to get in touch with
+Professor-Commander Krafft. Maybe it was being
+defeatist, but he had to make sure that they had a
+way off this planet if the mission failed. Krafft had
+installed a relay radio that would forward calls from
+his personal set. If this relay had been in the Foundation
+building, contact was broken. This had to be
+found out before it was too late. Brion thumbed on
+his radio and sent the call. The reply came back
+instantly.</p>
+
+<p>"This is fleet communications. Will you please keep
+this circuit open? Commander Krafft is waiting for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>
+this call and it is being put directly through to him
+now." Krafft's voice broke in while the operator was
+still talking.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is making this call&mdash;is it anyone from the
+Foundation?" The old man's voice was shaky with
+emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Brandd here. I have Lea Morees with me...."</p>
+
+<p>"No more? Are there no other survivors from the
+disaster that destroyed your building?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's it, other than us it's a ... complete loss.
+With the building and all the instruments gone, I
+have no way to contact our ship in orbit. Can you
+arrange to get us out of here if necessary?"</p>
+
+<p>"Give me your location. A ship is coming now&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't need a ship now," Brion interrupted.
+"Don't send it until I call. If there is a way to stop
+your destruction I'll find it. So I'm staying&mdash;to the
+last minute if necessary."</p>
+
+<p>Krafft was silent. There was only the crackle of an
+open mike and the sound of breathing. "That is your
+decision," he said finally. "I'll have a ship standing
+by. But won't you let us take Miss Morees out now?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I need her here. We are still working, looking
+for&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What answer can you find that could possibly
+avert destruction now?" His tone was between hope
+and despair. Brion couldn't help him.</p>
+
+<p>"If I succeed&mdash;you'll know. Otherwise, that will be
+the end of it. End of Transmission." He switched the
+radio off.</p>
+
+<p>Lea was sleeping easily when he looked at her,
+and there was still a good part of the hour left before
+he could wake her. How could he put it to use? She
+would need tools, instruments to examine the corpse,
+and there were certainly none here. Perhaps he could
+find some in the ruins of the Foundation building.
+With this thought he had the sudden desire to see
+the wreckage up close. There might be other survivors.
+He had to find out. If he could talk to the men
+he had seen working there....</p>
+
+<p>Ulv was still crouched against the wall in the outer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
+room. He looked up angrily when Brion came over,
+but said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you help me again?" Brion asked. "Stay and
+watch the girl while I go out. I'll be back at noon."
+Ulv didn't answer. "I am still looking for the way to
+save Dis," Brion added.</p>
+
+<p>"Go&mdash;I'll watch the girl!" Ulv spat words in impotent
+fury. "I do not know what to do. You may be
+right. Go. She will be safe with me."</p>
+
+<p>Brion slipped out into the deserted street and, half
+running, half walking, made his way towards the
+rubble that had been the Cultural Relationships
+Foundation. He used a different course from the one
+they had come by, striking first towards the outer
+edge of the city. Once there, he could swing and
+approach from the other side, so there would be no indication
+where he had come from. The magter might
+be watching and he didn't want to lead them to Lea
+and the stolen body.</p>
+
+<p>Turning a corner, he saw a sand car stopped in the
+street ahead. There was something familiar about the
+lines of it. It could be the one he and Telt had used,
+but he wasn't sure. He looked around, but the dusty,
+packed-dirt street was white and empty, shimmering
+in silence under the sun. Staying close to the wall
+and watching carefully, Brion slipped towards the
+car. When he came close behind it he was positive it
+was the one he had been in the night before. What
+was it doing here?</p>
+
+<p>Silence and heat filled the street. Windows and
+doors were empty, and there was no motion in their
+shadows. Putting his foot on a bogey wheel, he
+reached up and grabbed the searing metal rim of the
+open window. He pulled himself up and stared at
+Telt's smiling face.</p>
+
+<p>Smiling in death. The lips pulled back to reveal
+the grinning teeth, the eyes bursting from the head,
+the features swollen and contorted from the deadly
+poison. A tiny, tufted dart of wood stuck in the brown
+flesh on the side of his neck.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2>
+
+
+<p>Brion hurled himself backward and sprawled flat
+in the dust and filth of the road. No poison dart
+sought him out; the empty silence still reigned. Telt's
+murderers had come and gone. Moving quickly,
+using the bulk of the car as a shield, he opened the
+door and slipped inside.</p>
+
+<p>They had done a thorough job of destruction. All of
+the controls had been battered into uselessness, the
+floor was a junk heap of crushed equipment, intertwined
+with loops of recording tape bulging like
+mechanical intestines. A gutted machine, destroyed
+like its driver.</p>
+
+<p>It was easy enough to reconstruct what had happened.
+The car had been seen when they entered the
+city&mdash;probably by some of the magter who had destroyed
+the Foundation building. They had not seen
+where it had gone, or Brion would surely be dead by
+now. But they must have spotted it when Telt tried
+to leave the city&mdash;and stopped it in the most effective
+way possible, a dart through the open window
+into the unsuspecting driver's neck.</p>
+
+<p>Telt dead! The brutal impact of the man's death
+had driven all thought of its consequences from
+Brion's mind. Now he began to realize. Telt had
+never sent word of his discovery of the radioactive
+trace to the Nyjord army. He had been afraid to use
+the radio, and had wanted to tell Hys in person, and
+to show him the tape. Only now the tape was torn
+and mixed with all the others, the brain that could
+have analyzed it dead.</p>
+
+<p>Brion looked at the dangling entrails of the radio
+and spun for the door. Running swiftly and erratically,
+he fled from the sand car. His own survival and
+the possible survival of Dis depended on his not
+being seen near it. He must contact Hys and pass on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>
+the information. Until he did that, he was the only
+offworlder on Dis who knew which magter tower
+might contain the world-destroying bombs.</p>
+
+<p>Once out of sight of the sand car he went more
+slowly, wiping the sweat from his streaming face. He
+hadn't been seen leaving the car, and he wasn't being
+followed. The streets here weren't familiar, but he
+checked his direction by the sun and walked at a
+steady fast pace towards the destroyed building.
+More of the native Disans were in the streets now.
+They all noticed him, some even stopped and scowled
+fiercely at him. With his emphatic awareness he felt
+their anger and hatred. A knot of men radiated
+death, and he put his hand on his gun as he passed
+them. Two of them had their blowguns ready, but
+didn't use them. By the time he had turned the next
+corner he was soaked with nervous perspiration.</p>
+
+<p>Ahead was the rubble of the destroyed building.
+Grounded next to it was the tapered form of a
+spacer's pinnace. Two men had come from the open
+lock and were standing at the edge of the burnt area.</p>
+
+<p>Brion's boots grated loudly on the broken wreckage.
+The men turned quickly towards him, guns
+raised. Both of them carried ion rifles. They relaxed
+when they saw his offworld clothes.</p>
+
+<p>"Bloody damned savages!" one of them growled. He
+was a heavy-planet man, a squashed-down column of
+muscle and gristle, whose head barely reached
+Brion's chest. A pushed-back cap had the crossed
+slide-rule symbol of ship's computer man.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't blame them, I guess," the second man said.
+He wore purser's insignia. His features were different,
+but with the same compacted body the two men
+were as physically alike as twins. Probably from the
+same home planet. "They're gonna get their whole
+world blown out from under them at midnight. Looks
+as if the poor slob in the streets finally realized what
+is happening. Hope we're in jump-space by then. I
+saw Estrada's World get it, and I don't want to see
+that again, not twice in one lifetime!"</p>
+
+<p>The computer man was looking closely at Brion,
+head tilted sideways to see his face. "You need trans<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>portation
+offworld?" he asked. "We're the last ship at
+the port, and we're going to boil out of here as soon
+as the rest of our cargo is aboard. We'll give you a lift
+if you need it."</p>
+
+<p>Only by a tremendous effort at control did Brion
+conceal the destroying sorrow that overwhelmed him
+when he looked at that shattered wasteland, the
+graveyard of so many. "No," he said. "That won't be
+necessary. I'm in touch with the blockading fleet and
+they'll pick me up before midnight."</p>
+
+<p>"You from Nyjord?" the purser growled.</p>
+
+<p>"No," Brion said, still only half aware of the men.
+"But there is trouble with my own ship." He realized
+that they were looking intently at him, that he owed
+them some kind of explanation. "I thought I could
+find a way to stop the war. Now ... I'm not so sure."
+He hadn't intended to be so frank with the spacemen,
+but the words had been uppermost in his thoughts
+and had simply slipped out.</p>
+
+<p>The computer man started to say something, but
+his shipmate speared him in the side with his elbow.
+"We blast soon&mdash;and I don't like the way these
+Disans are looking at us. The captain said to find out
+what caused the fire, then get the hell back. So let's
+go."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't miss your ship," the computer man said to
+Brion, and he started for the pinnace. Then he hesitated
+and turned. "Sure there's nothing we can do for
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>Sorrow would accomplish nothing. Brion fought to
+sweep the dregs of emotion from his mind and to
+think clearly. "You can help me," he said. "I could use
+a scalpel or any other surgical instrument you might
+have." Lea would need those. Then he remembered
+Telt's undelivered message. "Do you have a portable
+radio transceiver? I can pay you for it."</p>
+
+<p>The computer man vanished inside the rocket and
+reappeared a minute later with a small package.
+"There's a scalpel and a magnetized tweezers in here&mdash;all
+I could find in the med kit. Hope they'll do." He
+reached inside and swung out the metal case of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
+self-contained transceiver. "Take this, it's got plenty
+of range, even on the longer frequencies."</p>
+
+<p>He raised his hand at Brion's offer to pay. "My donation,"
+he said. "If you can save this planet I'll
+give you the whole pinnace as well. We'll tell the
+captain we lost the radio in some trouble with the
+natives. Isn't that right, Moneybags?" He prodded the
+purser in the chest with a finger that would have
+punched a hole through a weaker man.</p>
+
+<p>"I read you loud and clear," the purser said. "I'll
+make out an invoice so stating, back in the ship."
+They were both in the pinnace then, and Brion had
+to move fast to get clear of the takeoff blast.</p>
+
+<p>A sense of obligation&mdash;the spacemen had felt it
+too. The realization of this raised Brion's spirits a bit
+as he searched through the rubble for anything useful.
+He recognized part of a wall still standing as a
+corner of the laboratory. Poking through the ruins, he
+unearthed broken instruments and a single, battered
+case that had barely missed destruction. Inside was
+the binocular microscope, the right tube bent, its
+lenses cracked and obscured. The left eyepiece still
+seemed to be functioning. Brion carefully put it back
+in the case.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at his watch. It was almost noon. These
+few pieces of equipment would have to do for the
+dissection. Watched suspiciously by the onlooking
+Disans, he started back to the warehouse. It was a
+long, circuitous walk, since he didn't dare give any
+clues to his destination. Only when he was positive
+he had not been observed or followed did he slip
+through the building's entrance, locking the door behind
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Lea's frightened eyes met his when he went into
+the office. "A friendly smile here among the cannibals,"
+she called. Her strained expression gave the lie
+to the cheeriness of her words. "What has happened?
+Since I woke up, the great stone face over there"&mdash;she
+pointed to Ulv&mdash;"has been telling me exactly
+nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the last thing you can remember?" Brion
+asked carefully. He didn't want to tell her too much,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+lest this bring on the shock again. Ulv had shown
+great presence of mind in not talking to her.</p>
+
+<p>"If you must know," Lea said, "I remember quite a
+lot, Brion Brandd. I shan't go into details, since this
+sort of thing is best kept from the natives. For the
+record then, I can recall going to sleep after you left.
+And nothing since then. It's weird. I went to sleep in
+that lumpy hospital bed and woke up on this couch,
+feeling simply terrible. With <i>him</i> just sitting there
+and scowling at me. Won't you please tell me what is
+going on?"</p>
+
+<p>A partial truth was best, saving all of the details
+that he could for later. "The magter attacked the
+Foundation building," he said. "They are getting angry
+at all offworlders now. You were still knocked out
+by a sleeping drug, so Ulv helped bring you here. It's
+afternoon now&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of the last day?" She sounded horrified. "While
+I'm playing Sleeping Beauty the world is coming to
+an end! Was anyone hurt in the attack? Or killed?"</p>
+
+<p>"There were a number of casualties&mdash;and plenty of
+trouble," Brion said. He had to get her off the subject.
+Walking over to the corpse, he threw back the cover
+from its face. "But this is more important right now.
+It's one of the magter. I have a scalpel and some
+other things here&mdash;will you perform an autopsy?"</p>
+
+<p>Lea huddled back on the couch, her arms around
+herself, looking chilled in spite of the heat of the day.
+"What happened to the people at the building?" she
+asked in a thin voice. The injection had removed her
+memories of the tragedy, but echoes of the strain and
+shock still reverberated in her mind and body. "I feel
+so ... exhausted. Please tell me what happened. I
+have the feeling you're hiding something."</p>
+
+<p>Brion sat next to her and took her hands in his, not
+surprised to find them cold. Looking into her eyes, he
+tried to give her some of his strength. "It wasn't very
+nice," he said. "You were shaken up by it, I imagine
+that's why you feel the way you do now. But&mdash;Lea,
+you'll have to take my word for this. Don't ask any
+more questions. There's nothing we can do now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>
+about it. But we can still find out about the magter.
+Will you examine the corpse?"</p>
+
+<p>She started to ask something, then changed her
+mind. When she dropped her eyes Brion felt the thin
+shiver that went through her body. "There's something
+terribly wrong," she said. "I know that. I guess
+I'll have to take your word that it's best not to ask
+questions. Help me up, will you, darling? My legs are
+absolutely liquid."</p>
+
+<p>Leaning on him, with his arm around her supporting
+most of her weight, she went slowly across to the
+corpse. She looked down and shuddered. "Not what
+you would call a natural death," she said. Ulv watched
+intently as she took the scalpel out of its holder. "You
+don't have to look at this," she told him in halting Disan.
+"Not if you don't want to."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to," he told her, not taking his eyes from
+the body. "I have never seen a magter dead before,
+or without covering, like an ordinary person." He
+continued to stare fixedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Find me some drinking water, will you, Brion?"
+Lea said. "And spread the tarp under the body.
+These things are quite messy."</p>
+
+<p>After drinking the water she seemed stronger, and
+could stand without holding onto the table with both
+hands. Placing the tip of the scalpel just below the
+magter's breast bone, she made the long post-mortem
+incision down to the pubic symphysis. The great,
+body-length wound gaped open like a red mouth.
+Across the table Ulv shuddered but didn't avert his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>One by one she removed the internal organs. Once
+she looked up at Brion, then quickly returned to
+work. The silence stretched on and on until Brion
+had to break it.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, can't you? Have you found out anything?"</p>
+
+<p>His words snapped the thin strand of her strength,
+and she staggered back to the couch and collapsed
+onto it. Her bloodstained hands hung over the side,
+making a strangely terrible contrast to the whiteness
+of her skin.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Brion," she said. "But there's nothing,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>
+nothing at all. There are minor differences, organic
+changes I've never seen before&mdash;his liver is tremendous,
+for one thing. But changes like this are certainly
+consistent within the pattern of homo sapiens as
+adapted to a different planet. He's a man. Changed,
+adapted, modified&mdash;but still just as human as you or
+I."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you be sure?" Brion broke in. "You
+haven't examined him completely, have you?" She
+shook her head. "Then go on. The other organs. His
+brain. A microscopic examination. Here!" he said,
+pushing the microscope case towards her with both
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>She dropped her head onto her forearms and
+sobbed. "Leave me alone, can't you! I'm tired and
+sick and fed up with this awful planet. Let them die.
+I don't care! Your theory is false, useless. Admit that!
+And let me wash the filth from my hands...." Sobbing
+drowned out her words.</p>
+
+<p>Brion stood over her and drew a shuddering
+breath. Was he wrong? He didn't dare think about
+that. He had to go on. Looking down at the thinness
+of her bent back, with the tiny projections of her
+spine showing through the thin cloth, he felt an immense
+pity&mdash;a pity he couldn't surrender to. This
+thin, helpless, frightened woman was his only
+resource. She had to work. He had to <i>make</i> her work.</p>
+
+<p>Ihjel had done it&mdash;used projective empathy to impress
+his emotions upon Brion. Now Brion must do it
+with Lea. He had had some sessions in the art, but
+not nearly enough to make him proficient. Nevertheless
+he had to try.</p>
+
+<p>Strength was what Lea needed. Aloud he said
+simply, "You can do it. You have the will and the
+strength to finish." And silently his mind cried out the
+order to obey, to share his power now that hers was
+drained and finished.</p>
+
+<p>Only when she lifted her face and he saw the
+dried tears did he realize that he had succeeded.
+"You will go on?" he asked quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Lea merely nodded and rose to her feet. She
+shuffled like a sleepwalker jerked along by invisible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>
+strings. Her strength wasn't her own, and the situation
+reminded him unhappily of that last event of the
+Twenties when he had experienced the same kind of
+draining activity. She wiped her hands roughly on
+her clothes and opened the microscope case.</p>
+
+<p>"The slides are all broken," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"This will do," Brion told her, crashing his heel
+through the glass partition. Shards tinkled and
+crashed to the floor. He took some of the bigger
+pieces and broke them to rough squares that would
+fit under the clips on the stage. Lea accepted them
+without a word. Putting a drop of the magter's blood
+on the slide, she bent over the eyepiece.</p>
+
+<p>Her hands shook when she tried to adjust the focusing.
+Using low power, she examined the specimen,
+squinting through the angled tube. Once she
+turned the sub-stage mirror a bit to catch the light
+streaming in the window. Brion stood behind her,
+fists clenched, forceably controlling his anxiety.
+"What do you see?" he finally blurted out.</p>
+
+<p>"Phagocytes, platelets ... leucocytes ... everything
+seems normal." Her voice was dull, exhausted, her
+eyes blinking with fatigue as she stared into the tube.</p>
+
+<p>Anger at defeat burned through Brion. Even faced
+with failure, he refused to accept it. He reached over
+her shoulder and savagely twisted the turret of microscope
+until the longest lens was in position. "If you
+can't see anything&mdash;try the high power! It's there&mdash;I
+know it's there! I'll get you a tissue specimen." He
+turned back to the disemboweled cadaver.</p>
+
+<p>His back was turned and he did not see that sudden
+stiffening of her shoulders, or the sudden eagerness
+that seized her fingers as they adjusted the
+focus. But he did feel the wave of emotion that
+welled from her, impinging directly on his empathetic
+sense. "What is it?" he called to her, as if she had
+spoken aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"Something ... something here," she said, "in this
+leucocyte. It's not normal structure, but it's familiar.
+I've seen something like it before, but I just can't
+remember." She turned away from the microscope<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>
+and unthinkingly pressed her gory knuckles to her
+forehead. "I know I've seen it before."</p>
+
+<p>Brion squinted into the deserted microscope and
+made out a dim shape in the center of the field. It
+stood out sharply when he focused&mdash;the white, jellyfish
+shape of a single-celled leucocyte. To his untrained
+eye there was nothing unusual about it. He
+couldn't know what was strange, when he had no
+idea of what was normal.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you see those spherical green shapes grouped
+together?" Lea asked. Before Brion could answer she
+gasped, "I remember now!" Her fatigue was forgotten
+in her excitement. "<i>Icerya purchasi</i>, that was the
+name, something like that. It's a coccid, a little scale
+insect. It had those same shapes collected together
+within its individual cells."</p>
+
+<p>"What do they mean? What is the connection with
+Dis?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," she said; "it's just that they look so
+similar. And I never saw anything like this in a
+human cell before. In the coccids, the green particles
+grow into a kind of yeast that lives within the insect.
+Not a parasite, but a real symbiote...."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes opened wide as she caught the significance
+of her own words. A symbiote&mdash;and Dis was
+the world where symbiosis and parasitism had become
+more advanced and complex than on any other
+planet. Lea's thoughts spun around this fact and
+chewed at the fringes of the logic. Brion could sense
+her concentration and absorption. He did nothing to
+break the mood. Her hands were clenched, her eyes
+staring unseeingly at the wall as her mind raced.</p>
+
+<p>Brion and Ulv were quiet, watching her, waiting
+for her conclusions. The pieces were falling into
+shape at last.</p>
+
+<p>Lea opened her clenched hands and smoothed
+them on her sodden skirt. She blinked and turned to
+Brion. "Is there a tool box here?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Her words were so unexpected that Brion could not
+answer for a moment. Before he could say anything
+she spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"Not hand tools; that would take too long. Could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
+you find anything like a power saw? That would be
+ideal." She turned back to the microscope, and he
+didn't try to question her. Ulv was still looking at the
+body of the magter and had understood nothing of
+what they had said.</p>
+
+<p>Brion went out into the loading bay. There was
+nothing he could use on the ground floor, so he took
+the stairs to the floor above. A corridor here passed
+by a number of rooms. All of the doors were locked,
+including one with the hopeful sign TOOL ROOM
+on it. He battered at the metal door with his shoulder
+without budging it. As he stepped back to look for
+another way in, he glanced at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>Two o'clock! In ten hours the bombs would fall on
+Dis.</p>
+
+<p>The need for haste tore at him. Yet there could be
+no noise&mdash;someone in the street might hear it. He
+quickly stripped off his shirt and wrapped it in a
+loose roll around the barrel of his gun, extending it in
+a loose tube in front of the barrel. Holding the rolled
+cloth in his left hand, he jammed the gun up tight
+against the door, the muzzle against the lock. The
+single shot was only a dull thud, inaudible outside of
+the building. Pieces of broken mechanism jarred and
+rattled inside the lock and the door swung open.</p>
+
+<p>When he came back Lea was standing by the
+body. He held the small power saw with a rotary
+blade. "Will this do?" he asked. "Runs on its own
+battery; almost fully charged too."</p>
+
+<p>"Perfect," she answered. "You're both going to have
+to help me." She switched into the Disan language.
+"Ulv, would you find some place where you can
+watch the street without being seen? Signal me when
+it is empty. I'm afraid this saw is going to make a lot
+of noise."</p>
+
+<p>Ulv nodded and went out into the bay, where he
+climbed a heap of empty crates so he could peer
+through the small windows set high in the wall. He
+looked carefully in both directions, then waved to her
+to go ahead.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand to one side and hold the cadaver's chin,
+Brion," she said. "Hold it firmly so the head doesn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
+shake around when I cut. This is going to be a little
+gruesome. I'm sorry. But it'll be the fastest way to cut
+the bone." The saw bit into the skull.</p>
+
+<p>Once Ulv waved them into silence, and shrank
+back himself into the shadows next to the window.
+They waited impatiently until he gave them the sign
+to continue again. Brion held steady while the saw
+cut a circle completely around the skull.</p>
+
+<p>"Finished," Lea said and the saw dropped from her
+limp fingers to the floor. She massaged life back into
+her hands before she finished the job. Carefully and
+delicately she removed the cap of bone from the
+magter's head, exposing his brain to the shaft of light
+from the window.</p>
+
+<p>"You were right all the time, Brion," she said.
+"There is your alien."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Ulv joined them as they looked down at the exposed
+brain of the magter. The thing was so clearly
+evident that even Ulv noticed it.</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen dead animals and my people dead
+with their heads open, but I have never seen anything
+like that before," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" Brion asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The invader, the alien you were looking for," Lea
+told him.</p>
+
+<p>The magter's brain was only two-thirds of what
+would have been its normal size. Instead of filling the
+skull completely, it shared the space with a green,
+amorphous shape. This was ridged somewhat like a
+brain, but the green shape had still darker nodules
+and extensions. Lea took her scalpel and gently
+prodded the dark moist mass.</p>
+
+<p>"It reminds me very much of something that I've
+seen before on Earth," she said. "The green-fly&mdash;<i>Drepanosiphum
+platanoides</i>&mdash;and an unusual organ
+it has, called the pseudova. Now that I have seen this
+growth in the magter's skull, I can think of a positive
+parallel. The fly <i>Drepanosiphum</i> also had a large
+green organ, only it fills half of the body cavity
+instead of the head. Its identity puzzled biologists for
+years, and they had a number of complex theories to
+explain it. Finally someone managed to dissect and
+examine it. The pseudova turned out to be a living
+plant, a yeastlike growth that helps with the green-fly's
+digestion. It produces enzymes that enable the
+fly to digest the great amounts of sugar it gets from
+plant juice."</p>
+
+<p>"That's not unusual," Brion said, puzzled. "Termites
+and human beings are a couple of other creatures
+whose digestion is helped by internal flora. What's
+the difference in the green-fly?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Reproduction, mainly. All the other gut-living
+plants have to enter the host and establish themselves
+as outsiders, permitted to remain as long as
+they are useful. The green-fly and its yeast plant
+have a permanent symbiotic relationship that is essential
+to the existence of both. The plant spores appear
+in many places throughout the fly's body&mdash;but
+they are <i>always</i> in the germ cells. Every egg cell
+has some, and every egg that grows to maturity is
+infected with the plant spores. The continuation of
+the symbiosis is unbroken and guaranteed."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think those green spheres in the magter's
+blood cells could be the same kind of thing?" Brion
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure of it," Lea said. "It must be the same
+process. There are probably green spheres throughout
+the magters' bodies, spores or offspring of those
+things in their brains. Enough will find their way to
+the germ cells to make sure that every young magter
+is infected at birth. While the child is growing, so is
+the symbiote. Probably a lot faster, since it seems to
+be a simpler organism. I imagine it is well established
+in the brain pan within the first six months of the
+infant's life."</p>
+
+<p>"But why?" Brion asked. "What does it do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm only guessing now, but there is plenty of
+evidence that gives us an idea of its function. I'm
+willing to bet that the symbiote itself is not a simple
+organism, it's probably an amalgam of plant and animal
+like most of the other creatures on Dis. The thing
+is just too complex to have developed since mankind
+has been on this planet. The magter must have caught
+the symbiotic infection eating some Disan animal. The
+symbiote lived and flourished in its new environment,
+well protected by a bony skull in a long-lived host. In
+exchange for food, oxygen and comfort, the brain-symbiote
+must generate hormones and enzymes that
+enable the magter to survive. Some of these might
+aid digestion, enabling the magter to eat any plant or
+animal life they can lay their hands on. The symbiote
+might produce sugars, scavenge the blood of toxins&mdash;there
+are so many things it could do. Things it must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>
+have done, since the magter are obviously the dominant
+life form on this planet. They paid a high price
+for the symbiote, but it didn't matter to race survival
+until now. Did you notice that the magter's brain is
+no smaller than normal?"</p>
+
+<p>"It must be&mdash;or how else could that brain-symbiote
+fit in inside the skull with it?" Brion said.</p>
+
+<p>"If the magter's total brain were smaller in volume
+than normal it could fit into the remaining space in
+the cranial hollow. But the brain is full-sized&mdash;it is
+just that part of it is missing, absorbed by the symbiote."</p>
+
+<p>"The frontal lobes," Brion said with sudden realization.
+"This hellish growth has performed a prefrontal
+lobotomy!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's done even more than that," Lea said, separating
+the convolutions of the gray matter with her scalpel
+to uncover a green filament beneath. "These tendrils
+penetrate further back into the brain, but always remain
+in the cerebrum. The cerebellum appears to be
+untouched. Apparently just the higher functions of
+mankind have been interfered with, selectively. Destruction
+of the frontal lobes made the magter creatures
+without emotions or ability for really abstract thought.
+Apparently they survived better without these. There
+must have been some horrible failures before the right
+balance was struck. The final product is a man-plant-animal
+symbiote that is admirably adapted for survival
+on this disaster world. No emotions to cause
+complications or desires that might interfere with
+pure survival. Complete ruthlessness&mdash;mankind has always
+been strong on this anyway, so it didn't take
+much of a push."</p>
+
+<p>"The other Disans, like Ulv here, managed to survive
+without turning into such a creature. So why
+was it necessary for the magter to go so far?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing is necessary in evolution, you know that,"
+Lea said. "Many variations are possible, and all the
+better ones continue. You might say that Ulv's people
+survive, but the magter survive better. If offworld
+contact hadn't been re-established, I imagine that the
+magter would slowly have become the dominant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>
+race. Only they won't have the chance now. It looks
+as though they have succeeded in destroying both
+races with their suicidal urge."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the part that doesn't make sense," Brion
+said. "The magter have survived and climbed right to
+the top of the evolutionary heap here. Yet they are
+suicidal. How does it happen they haven't been
+wiped out before this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Individually, they have been aggressive to the
+point of suicide. They will attack anything and everything
+with the same savage lack of emotion. Luckily
+there are no bigger animals on this planet. So
+where they have died as individuals, their utter ruthlessness
+has guaranteed their survival as a group.
+Now they are faced with a problem that is too big for
+their half-destroyed minds to handle. Their personal
+policy has become their planetary policy&mdash;and that's
+never a very smart thing. They are like men with
+knives who have killed all the men who were only
+armed with stones. Now they are facing men with
+guns, and they are going to keep charging and
+fighting until they are all dead.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a perfect case of the utter impartiality of the
+forces of evolution. Men infected by this Disan life
+form were the dominant creatures on this planet. The
+creature in the magters' brains was a true symbiote
+then, giving something and receiving something,
+making a union of symbiotes where all were stronger
+together than any could be separately. Now this is
+changed. The magter brain cannot understand the
+concept of racial death, in a situation where it must
+understand to be able to survive. Therefore the brain-creature
+is no longer a symbiote but a parasite."</p>
+
+<p>"And as a parasite it must be destroyed!" Brion
+broke in. "We're not fighting shadows any more," he
+exulted. "We've found the enemy&mdash;and it's not the
+magter at all. Just a sort of glorified tapeworm that is
+too stupid to know when it is killing itself off. Does it
+have a brain&mdash;can it think?"</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt it very much," Lea said. "A brain would
+be of absolutely no use to it. So even if it originally
+possessed reasoning powers they would be gone by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+now. Symbiotes or parasites that live internally like
+this always degenerate to an absolute minimum of
+functions."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me about it. What is this thing?" Ulv broke
+in, prodding the soft form of the brain-symbiote. He
+had heard all their excited talk but had not understood
+a word.</p>
+
+<p>"Explain it to him, will you, Lea, as best you can,"
+Brion said, looking at her, and he realized how exhausted
+she was. "And sit down while you do it;
+you're long overdue for a rest. I'm going to try&mdash;" He
+broke off when he looked at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>It was after four in the afternoon&mdash;less than eight
+hours to go. What was he to do? Enthusiasm faded as
+he realized that only half of the problem was solved.
+The bombs would drop on schedule unless the Nyjorders
+could understand the significance of this discovery.
+Even if they understood, would it make any
+difference to them? The threat of the hidden cobalt
+bombs would not be changed.</p>
+
+<p>With this thought came the guilty realization that
+he had forgotten completely about Telt's death. Even
+before he contacted the Nyjord fleet he must tell Hys
+and his rebel army what had happened to Telt and
+his sand car. Also about the radioactive traces. They
+couldn't be checked against the records now to see
+how important they might be, but Hys might make
+another raid on the strength of the suspicion. This
+call wouldn't take long, then he would be free to
+tackle Professor-Commander Krafft.</p>
+
+<p>Carefully setting the transmitter on the frequency
+of the rebel army, he sent out a call to Hys. There
+was no answer. When he switched to receive all he
+heard was static.</p>
+
+<p>There was always a chance the set was broken. He
+quickly twisted the transmitter to the frequency of
+his personal radio, then whistled in the microphone.
+The received signal was so loud that it hurt his ears.
+He tried to call Hys again, and was relieved to get a
+response this time.</p>
+
+<p>"Brion Brandd here. Can you read me? I want to
+talk to Hys at once."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It came as a shock that it was Professor-Commander
+Krafft who answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Brion, but it's impossible to talk to Hys.
+We are monitoring his frequency and your call was
+relayed to me. Hys and his rebels lifted ship about
+half an hour ago, and are already on the way back to
+Nyjord. Are you ready to leave now? It will soon
+become dangerous to make any landings. Even now I
+will have to ask for volunteers to get you out of
+there."</p>
+
+<p>Hys and the rebel army gone! Brion assimilated the
+thought. He had been thrown off balance when he
+realized he was talking to Krafft.</p>
+
+<p>"If they're gone&mdash;well, then there's nothing I can
+do about it," he said. "I was going to call you, so I
+can talk to you now. Listen and try to understand.
+You must cancel the bombing. I've found out about
+the magter, found what causes their mental aberration.
+If we can correct that, we can stop them from
+attacking Nyjord&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Can they be corrected by midnight tonight?"
+Krafft broke in. He was abrupt and sounded almost
+angry. Even saints get tired.</p>
+
+<p>"No, of course not." Brion frowned at the microphone,
+realizing the talk was going all wrong, but not
+knowing how to remedy it. "But it won't take too
+long. I have evidence here that will convince you
+that what I say is the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you without seeing it, Brion." The trace
+of anger was gone from Krafft's voice now, and it was
+heavy with fatigue and defeat. "I'll admit you are
+probably right. A little while ago I admitted to Hys
+too that he was probably right in his original estimation
+of the correct way to tackle the problem of Dis.
+We have made a lot of mistakes, and in making them
+we have run out of time. I'm afraid that is the only
+fact that is relevant now. The bombs fall at twelve,
+and even then they may drop too late. A ship is already
+on its way from Nyjord with my replacement. I
+exceeded my authority by running a day past the
+maximum the technicians gave me. I realize now I was
+gambling the life of my own world in the vain hope<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>
+I could save Dis. They can't be saved. They're dead.
+I won't hear any more about it."</p>
+
+<p>"You must listen&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I must destroy the planet below me, that is what I
+must do. That fact will not be changed by anything
+you say. All the offworlders&mdash;other than your party&mdash;are
+gone. I'm sending a ship down now to pick you
+up. As soon as that ship lifts I am going to drop the
+first bombs. Now&mdash;tell me where you are so they can
+come for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't threaten me, Krafft!" Brion shook his fist at
+the radio in an excess of anger. "You're a killer and a
+world destroyer&mdash;don't try to make yourself out as
+anything else. I have the knowledge to avert this
+slaughter and you won't listen to me. And I know
+where the cobalt bombs are&mdash;in the magter tower
+that Hys raided last night. Get those bombs and there
+is no need to drop any of your own!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Brion. I appreciate what you're trying to
+do, but at the same time I know the futility of it. I'm
+not going to accuse you of lying, but do you realize
+how thin your evidence sounds from this end? First,
+a dramatic discovery of the cause of the magters' intransigency.
+Then, when that had no results, you
+suddenly remember that you know where the bombs
+are. The best-kept magter secret."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know for sure, but there is a very good
+chance it is so," Brion said, trying to repair his defenses.
+"Telt made readings, he had other records of
+radioactivity in this same magter keep&mdash;proof that
+something is there. But Telt is dead now, the records
+destroyed. Don't you see&mdash;" He broke off, realizing
+how vague and unprovable his case was. This was
+defeat.</p>
+
+<p>The radio was silent, with just the hum of the
+carrier wave as Krafft waited for him to continue.
+When Brion did speak his voice was empty of all
+hope.</p>
+
+<p>"Send your ship down," he said tiredly. "We're in a
+building that belonged to the Light Metals Trust,
+Ltd., a big warehouse of some kind. I don't know the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>
+address here, but I'm sure you have someone there
+who can find it. We'll be waiting for you. You win,
+Krafft."</p>
+
+<p>He turned off the radio.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Do you mean what you said, about giving up?"
+Lea asked. Brion realized that she had stopped talking
+to Ulv some time ago, and had been listening to
+his conversation with Krafft. He shrugged, trying to
+put his feeling into words.</p>
+
+<p>"We've tried&mdash;and almost succeeded. But if they
+won't listen, what can we do? What can one man
+possibly do against a fleet loaded with H-bombs?"</p>
+
+<p>As if in answer to the question, Ulv's voice drowned
+him out, the harsh Disan words slashing the silence
+of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Kill you, the enemy!" he said. "Kill you
+<i>umedvirk</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>He shouted the last word and his hand flashed to
+his belt. In a single swift motion he lifted his
+blowgun and placed it to his lips. A tiny dart quivered
+in the already dead flesh of the creature in the
+magter's skull. The action had all the symbolism of a
+broken lance, the declaration of war.</p>
+
+<p>"Ulv understands it a lot better than you might
+think," Lea said. "He knows things about symbiosis
+and mutualism that would get him a job as a lecturer
+in any university on Earth. He knows just what the
+brain-symbiote is and what it does. They even have a
+word for it, one that never appeared in our Disan
+language lessons. A life form that you can live with
+or cooperate with is called <i>medvirk</i>. One that works
+to destroy you is <i>umedvirk</i>. He also understands that
+life forms can change, and be <i>medvirk</i> or <i>umedvirk</i>
+at different times. He has just decided that the brain
+symbiote is <i>umedvirk</i> and he is out to kill it. So will
+the rest of the Disans as soon as he can show them
+the evidence and explain."</p>
+
+<p>"You're sure of this?" Brion asked, interested in
+spite of himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Positive. The Disans have an absolute attitude
+towards survival; you should realize that. Not the
+same as the magter, but not much different in the
+results. They will kill the brain-symbiotes, even if it
+means killing every magter who harbors one."</p>
+
+<p>"If that is the case we can't leave now," Brion said.
+With these words it suddenly became clear what he
+had to do. "The ship is coming down now from the
+fleet. Get in it and take the body of the magter. I
+won't go."</p>
+
+<p>"Where will you be?" she asked, shocked.</p>
+
+<p>"Fighting the magter. My presence on the planet
+means that Krafft won't keep his threat to drop the
+bombs any earlier than the midnight deadline. That
+would be deliberately murdering me. I doubt if my
+presence past midnight will stop him, but it should
+keep the bombs away at least until then."</p>
+
+<p>"What will you accomplish besides committing
+suicide?" Lea pleaded. "You just told me how a single
+man can't stop the bombs. What will happen to you
+at midnight?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be dead&mdash;but in spite of that I can't run away.
+Not now. I must do everything possible right up until
+the last instant. Ulv and I will go to the magter
+tower, try to find out if the bombs are there. He will
+fight on our side now. He may even know more about
+the bombs, things that he didn't want to tell me
+before. We can get help from his people. Some of
+them must know where the bombs are, being native
+to this planet."</p>
+
+<p>Lea started to say something, but he rushed on,
+drowning out her words.</p>
+
+<p>"You have just as big a job. Show the magter to
+Krafft, explain the significance of the brain-parasite
+to him. Try to get him to talk to Hys about the last
+raid. Try to get him to hold off the attack. I'll keep
+the radio with me and as soon as I know anything I'll
+call in. This is all last resort, finger in the dike kind of
+stuff, but it is all we can do. Because if we do
+nothing, it means the end of Dis."</p>
+
+<p>Lea tried to argue with him, but he wouldn't listen
+to her. He only kissed her, and with a lightness he did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
+not feel tried to convince her that everything would
+be all right. In their hearts they both knew it
+wouldn't be but they left it that way because it was
+the least painful solution.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden rumbling shook the building and the
+windows darkened as a ship settled in the street
+outside. The Nyjord crew came in with guns pointed,
+alert for anything.</p>
+
+<p>After a little convincing they took the cadaver, as
+well as Lea, when they lifted ship. Brion watched the
+spacer become a pinpoint in the sky and vanish. He
+tried to shake off the feeling that this was the last
+time he would see any of them.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's get out of here fast," he told Ulv, picking up
+the radio, "before anyone comes around to see why
+the ship landed."</p>
+
+<p>"What will you do?" Ulv asked as they went down
+the street towards the desert. "What can we do in the
+few hours we have left?" He pointed at the sun,
+nearing the horizon. Brion shifted the weight of the
+radio to his other hand before replying.</p>
+
+<p>"Get to the magter tower we raided last night,
+that's the best chance. The bombs might be there....
+Unless you know where the bombs are?"</p>
+
+<p>Ulv shook his head. "I do not know, but some of
+my people may. We will capture a magter, then kill
+him, so they can all see the <i>umedvirk</i>. Then they will
+tell us everything they know."</p>
+
+<p>"The tower first then, for bombs or a sample magter.
+What's the fastest way we can get there?"</p>
+
+<p>Ulv frowned in thought. "If you can drive one of
+the cars the offworlders use, I know where there are
+some locked in buildings in this city. None of my
+people know how they are made to move."</p>
+
+<p>"I can work them&mdash;let's go."</p>
+
+<p>Chance was with them this time. The first sand car
+they found still had the keys in the lock. It was
+battery-powered, but contained a full charge. Much
+quieter than the heavy atomic cars, it sped smoothly
+out of the city and across the sand. Ahead of them
+the sun sank in a red wave of color. It was six o'clock.
+By the time they reached the tower it was seven, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
+Brion's nerves felt as if they were writhing under his
+skin.</p>
+
+<p>Even though it looked like suicide, attacking the
+tower brought blessed relief. It was movement and
+action, and for moments at a time he forgot the
+bombs hanging over his head.</p>
+
+<p>The attack was nerve-rackingly anticlimactic. They
+used the main entrance, Ulv ranging soundlessly
+ahead. There was no one in sight. Once inside, they
+crept down towards the lower rooms where the radiation
+had been detected. Only gradually did they
+realize that the magter tower was completely empty.</p>
+
+<p>"Everyone gone," Ulv grunted, sniffing the air in
+every room that they passed. "Many magter were
+here earlier, but they are gone now."</p>
+
+<p>"Do they often desert their towers?" Brion asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Never. I have never heard of it happening before.
+I can think of no reason why they should do a thing
+like this."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can," Brion told him. "They would leave
+their home if they took something with them of
+greater value. The bombs. If the bombs were hidden
+here, they might move them after the attack." Sudden
+fear hit him. "Or they might move them because
+it is time to take them&mdash;to the launcher! Let's get out
+of here, the quickest way we can."</p>
+
+<p>"I smell air from outside," Ulv said, "coming from
+down there. This cannot be, because the magter have
+no entrances this low in their towers."</p>
+
+<p>"We blasted one in earlier&mdash;that could be it. Can
+you find it?"</p>
+
+<p>Moonlight shone ahead as they turned an angle of
+the corridor, and stars were visible through the
+gaping opening in the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"It looks bigger than it was," Brion said, "as if the
+magter had enlarged it." He looked through and saw
+the tracks on the sand outside. "As if they had enlarged
+it to bring something bulky up from below&mdash;and
+carried it away in whatever made those tracks!"</p>
+
+<p>Using the opening themselves, they ran back to the
+sand car. Brion ground it fiercely around and turned
+the headlights on the tracks. There were the marks of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
+a sand car's treads, half obscured by thin, unmarked
+wheel tracks. He turned off the lights and forced
+himself to move slowly and to do an accurate job. A
+quick glimpse at his watch showed him there were
+four hours left to go. The moonlight was bright
+enough to illuminate the tracks. Driving with one
+hand, he turned on the radio transmitter, already set
+for Krafft's wave length.</p>
+
+<p>When the operator acknowledged his signal Brion
+reported what they had discovered and his conclusions.
+"Get that message to Commander Krafft now. I
+can't wait to talk to him&mdash;I'm following the tracks."
+He killed the transmission and stamped on the accelerator.
+The sand car churned and bounced down the
+track.</p>
+
+<p>"They are going to the mountains," Ulv said some
+time later, as the tracks still pointed straight ahead.
+"There are caves there and many magter have been
+seen near them; that is what I have heard."</p>
+
+<p>The guess was correct. Before nine o'clock the
+ground humped into a range of foothills, and the
+darker masses of mountains could be seen behind
+them, rising up to obscure the stars.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop the car here," Ulv said, "The caves begin not
+too far ahead. There may be magter watching or
+listening, so we must go quietly."</p>
+
+<p>Brion followed the deep-cut grooves, carrying the
+radio. Ulv came and went on both sides, silently as a
+shadow, scouting for hidden watchers. As far as he
+could discover there were none.</p>
+
+<p>By nine-thirty Brion realized they had deserted the
+sand car too soon. The tracks wound on and on, and
+seemed to have no end. They passed some caves
+which Ulv pointed out to him, but the tracks never
+stopped. Time was running out and the nightmare
+stumbling through the darkness continued.</p>
+
+<p>"More caves ahead," Ulv said, "Go quietly."</p>
+
+<p>They came cautiously to the crest of a hill, as they
+had done so many times already, and looked into the
+shallow valley beyond. Sand covered the valley floor,
+and the light of the setting moon shone over the
+tracks at a flat angle, marking them off sharply as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>
+lines of shadow. They ran straight across the sandy
+valley and disappeared into the dark mouth of a cave
+on the far side.</p>
+
+<p>Sinking back behind the hilltop, Brion covered the
+pilot light with his hand and turned on the transmitter.
+Ulv stayed above him, staring at the opening of
+the cave.</p>
+
+<p>"This is an important message," Brion whispered
+into the mike. "Please record." He repeated this for
+thirty seconds, glancing at his watch to make sure of
+the time, since the seconds of waiting stretched to
+minutes in his brain. Then, as clearly as possible
+without raising his voice above a whisper, he told of
+the discovery of the tracks and the cave.</p>
+
+<p>"... The bombs may or may not be in here, but we
+are going in to find out. I'll leave my personal transmitter
+here with the broadcast power turned on, so
+you can home on its signal. That will give you a
+directional beacon to find the cave. I'm taking the
+other radio in&mdash;it has more power. If we can't get
+back to the entrance I'll try a signal from inside. I
+doubt if you will hear it because of the rock, but I'll
+try. End of transmission. Don't try to answer me
+because I have the receiver turned off. There are no
+earphones on this set and the speaker would be too
+loud here."</p>
+
+<p>He switched off, held his thumb on the button for
+an instant, then flicked it back on.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by Lea," he said, and killed the power for
+good.</p>
+
+<p>They circled and reached the rocky wall of the
+cliff. Creeping silently in the shadows, they slipped
+up on the dark entrance of the cave. Nothing moved
+ahead and there was no sound from the entrance of
+the cave. Brion glanced at his watch and was instantly
+sorry.</p>
+
+<p>Ten-thirty.</p>
+
+<p>The last shelter concealing them was five metres
+from the cave. They started to rise, to rush the final
+distance, when Ulv suddenly waved Brion down. He
+pointed to his nose, then to the cave. He could smell
+the magter there.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A dark figure separated itself from the greater
+darkness of the cave mouth. Ulv acted instantly. He
+stood up and his hand went to his mouth; air hissed
+faintly through the tube in his hand. Without a sound
+the magter folded and fell to the ground. Before the
+body hit, Ulv crouched low and rushed in. There was
+the sudden scuffling of feet on the floor, then silence.</p>
+
+<p>Brion walked in, gun ready and alert, not knowing
+what he would find. His toe pushed against a body on
+the ground and from the darkness Ulv whispered,
+"There were only two. We can go on now."</p>
+
+<p>Finding their way through the cave was a maddening
+torture. They had no light, nor would they dare
+use one if they had. There were no wheel marks to
+follow on the stone floor. Without Ulv's sensitive nose
+they would have been completely lost. The cave
+branched and rejoined and they soon lost all sense of
+direction.</p>
+
+<p>Walking was almost impossible. They had to grope
+with their hands before them like blind men. Stumbling
+and falling against the rock, their fingers were
+soon throbbing and raw from brushing against the
+rough walls. Ulv followed the scent of the magter
+that hung in the air where they had passed. When it
+grew thin he knew they had left the frequently used
+tunnels and entered deserted ones. They could only
+retrace their steps and start again in a different direction.</p>
+
+<p>More maddening than the walking was the way
+time was running out. Inexorably the glowing hands
+crept around the face of Brion's watch until they
+stood at fifteen minutes before twelve.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a light ahead," Ulv whispered, and Brion
+almost gasped with relief. They moved slowly and
+silently until they stood, concealed by the darkness,
+looking out into a domed chamber brightly lit by
+glowing tubes.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" Ulv asked, blinking in the painful
+wash of illumination after the long darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Brion had to fight to control his voice, to stop from
+shouting.</p>
+
+<p>"The cage with the metal webbing is a jump-space<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>
+generator. The pointed, silver shapes next to it are
+bombs of some kind, probably the cobalt bombs.
+We've found it!"</p>
+
+<p>His first impulse was to instantly send the radio call
+that would stop the waiting fleet of H-bombers. But
+an unconvincing message would be worse than no
+message at all. He had to describe exactly what he
+saw here so the Nyjorders would know he wasn't
+lying. What he told them had to fit exactly with the
+information they already had about the launcher and
+the bombs.</p>
+
+<p>The launcher had been jury-rigged from a ship's
+jump-space generator; that was obvious. The generator
+and its controls were neatly cased and mounted.
+Cables ran from them to a roughly constructed cage
+of woven metal straps, hammered and bent into
+shape by hand. Three technicians were working on
+the equipment. Brion wondered what sort of blood-thirsty
+war-lovers the magter had found to handle
+the bombing for them. Then he saw the chains
+around their necks and the bloody wounds on their
+backs.</p>
+
+<p>He still found it difficult to have any pity for them.
+They had obviously been willing to accept money to
+destroy another planet&mdash;or they wouldn't have been
+working here. They had probably rebelled only when
+they had discovered how suicidal the attack would
+be.</p>
+
+<p>Thirteen minutes to midnight.</p>
+
+<p>Cradling the radio against his chest, Brion rose to
+his feet. He had a better view of the bombs now.
+There were twelve of them, alike as eggs from the
+same deadly clutch. Pointed like the bow of a spacer,
+each one swept smoothly back for its two metres of
+length, to a sharply chopped-off end. They were
+obviously incomplete, the war heads of rockets. One
+had its base turned towards him, and he saw six
+projecting studs that could be used to attach it to the
+missing rocket. A circular inspection port was open in
+the flat base of the bomb.</p>
+
+<p>This was enough. With this description, the Nyjorders
+would know he couldn't be lying about finding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>
+the bombs. Once they realized this, they couldn't
+destroy Dis without first trying to neutralize them.</p>
+
+<p>Brion carefully counted fifty paces before he
+stopped. He was far enough from the cavern so he
+couldn't be heard, and an angle of the cave cut off
+all light from behind him. With carefully controlled
+movements he turned on the power, switched the
+set to transmit, and checked the broadcast frequency.
+All correct. Then slowly and clearly, he described
+what he had seen in the cavern behind him.
+He kept his voice emotionless, recounting facts, leaving
+out anything that might be considered an opinion.</p>
+
+<p>It was six minutes before midnight when he
+finished. He thumbed the switch to receive and waited.</p>
+
+<p>There was only silence.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, the empty quality of the silence penetrated
+his numbed mind. There were no crackling atmospherics
+nor hiss of static, even when he turned the
+power full on. The mass of rock and earth of the
+mountain above was acting as a perfect grounding
+screen, absorbing his signal even at maximum output.</p>
+
+<p>They hadn't heard him. The Nyjord fleet didn't
+know that the cobalt bombs had been discovered
+before their launching. The attack would go ahead as
+planned. Even now, the bomb-bay doors were opening;
+armed H-bombs hung above the planet, held in
+place only by their shackles. In a few minutes the
+signal would be given and the shackles would spring
+open, the bombs drop clear....</p>
+
+<p>"Killers!" Brion shouted into the microphone. "You
+wouldn't listen to reason, you wouldn't listen to Hys,
+or me, or to any voice that suggested an alternative
+to complete destruction. You are going to destroy
+Dis, and <i>it's not necessary!</i> There were a lot of ways
+you could have stopped it. You didn't do any of
+them, and now it's too late. You'll destroy Dis, and in
+turn this will destroy Nyjord. Ihjel said that, and now
+I believe him. You're just another damned failure in a
+galaxy full of failures!"</p>
+
+<p>He raised the radio above his head and sent it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>
+crashing into the rock floor. Then he was running
+back to Ulv, trying to run away from the realization
+that he too had tried and failed. The people on the
+surface of Dis had less than two minutes left to live.</p>
+
+<p>"They didn't get my message," Brion said to Ulv.
+"The radio won't work this far underground."</p>
+
+<p>"Then the bombs will fall?" Ulv asked, looking
+searchingly at Brion's face in the dim reflected light
+from the cavern.</p>
+
+<p>"Unless something happens that we know nothing
+about, the bombs will fall."</p>
+
+<p>They said nothing after that&mdash;they simply waited.
+The three technicians in the cavern were also aware
+of the time. They were calling to each other and
+trying to talk to the magter. The emotionless, parasite-ridden
+brains of the magter saw no reason to stop
+work, and they attempted to beat the men back to
+their tasks. In spite of the blows, they didn't go; they
+only gaped in horror as the clock hands moved remorselessly
+towards twelve. Even the magter dimly
+felt some of the significance of the occasion. They
+stopped too and waited.</p>
+
+<p>The hour hand touched twelve on Brion's watch,
+then the minute hand. The second hand closed the
+gap and for a tenth of a second the three hands were
+one. Then the second hand moved on.</p>
+
+<p>Brion's immediate sensation of relief was washed
+away by the chilling realization that he was deep
+underground. Sound and seismic waves were slow,
+and the flare of atomic explosions couldn't be seen
+here. If the bombs had been dropped at twelve they
+wouldn't know it at once.</p>
+
+<p>A distant rumble filled the air. A moment later the
+ground heaved under them and the lights in the
+cavern flickered. Fine dust drifted down from the
+roof above.</p>
+
+<p>Ulv turned to him, but Brion looked away. He
+could not face the accusation in the Disan's eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>One of the technicians was running and screaming.
+The magter knocked him down and beat him into
+silence. Seeing this, the other two men returned to
+work with shaking hands. Even if all life on the
+surface of the planet was dead, this would have no
+effect on the magter. They would go ahead as
+planned, without emotion or imagination enough to
+alter their set course.</p>
+
+<p>As the technicians worked, their attitude changed
+from shocked numbness to anger. Right and wrong
+were forgotten. They had been killed&mdash;the invisible
+death of radiation must already be penetrating into
+the caves&mdash;but they also had the chance for vengeance.
+Swiftly they brought their work to completion,
+with a speed and precision they had concealed before.</p>
+
+<p>"What are those offworlders doing?" Ulv asked.</p>
+
+<p>Brion stirred from his lethargy of defeat and
+looked across the cavern floor. The men had a
+wheeled handtruck and were rolling one of the atomic
+warheads onto it. They pushed it over to the
+latticework of the jump-field.</p>
+
+<p>"They are going to bomb Nyjord now, just as Nyjord
+bombed Dis. That machine will hurl the bombs
+in a special way to the other planet."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you stop them?" Ulv asked. He had his deadly
+blowgun in his hand and his face was an expressionless
+mask.</p>
+
+<p>Brion almost smiled at the irony of the situation. In
+spite of everything he had done to prevent it, Nyjord
+had dropped the bombs. And this act alone may have
+destroyed their own planet. Brion had it within his
+power now to stop the launching in the cavern.
+Should he? Should he save the lives of his killers? Or
+should he practice the ancient blood-oath that had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>
+echoed and destroyed down through the ages: <i>An
+eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.</i> It would be so
+simple. He literally had to do nothing. The score
+would be even, and his and the Disans' death
+avenged.</p>
+
+<p>Did Ulv have his blowgun ready to kill Brion with,
+if he should try to stop the launchings? Or had he
+misread the Disan entirely?</p>
+
+<p>"Will <i>you</i> stop them, Ulv?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>How large was mankind's sense of obligation? The
+caveman first had this feeling for his mate, then for
+his family. It grew until men fought and died for the
+abstract ideas of cities and nations, then for whole
+planets. Would the time ever come when men might
+realize that the obligation should be to the largest
+and most encompassing reality of all&mdash;mankind? And
+beyond that to life of all kinds.</p>
+
+<p>Brion saw this idea, not in words but as a reality.
+When he posed the question to himself in this way
+he found that it stated clearly its inherent answer. He
+pulled his gun out, and as he did he wondered what
+Ulv's answer might be.</p>
+
+<p>"Nyjord is <i>medvirk</i>," Ulv said, raising his blowgun
+and sending a dart across the cavern. It struck one of
+the technicians, who gasped and fell to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Brion's shots crashed into the control board, shorting
+and destroying it, removing the menace to Nyjord
+for all time.</p>
+
+<p><i>Medvirk</i>, Ulv had said. A life form that cooperates
+and aids other life forms. It may kill in self-defense,
+but it is essentially not a killer or destroyer. Ulv had
+a lifetime of knowledge about the interdependency
+of life. He grasped the essence of the idea and ignored
+all the verbal complications and confusions. He
+had killed the magter, who were his own people,
+because they were <i>umedvirk</i>&mdash;against life. And he
+had saved his enemies because they were <i>medvirk</i>.</p>
+
+<p>With this realization came the painful knowledge
+that the planet and the people that had produced
+this understanding were dead.</p>
+
+<p>In the cavern the magter saw the destruction of
+their plans, and the cave mouth from which the bul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>lets
+had come. Silently they rushed to kill their enemy&mdash;a
+concerted wave of emotionless fury.</p>
+
+<p>Brion and Ulv fought back. Even the knowledge
+that he was doomed no matter what happened could
+not resign Brion to death at the hands of the magter.
+To Ulv, the decision was much easier. He was simply
+killing <i>umedvirk</i>. A believer in life, he destroyed the
+anti-life.</p>
+
+<p>They retreated into the darkness, still firing. The
+magter had lights and ion rifles, and were right behind
+them. Knowing the caverns better than the men
+they chased, the pursuers circled. Brion saw lights
+ahead and dragged Ulv to a stop.</p>
+
+<p>"They know their way through these caves, and we
+don't," he said. "If we try to run they'll just shoot us
+down. Let's find a spot we can defend and settle into
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Back here"&mdash;Ulv gave a tug in the right direction&mdash;"there
+is a cave with only one entrance, and that is
+very narrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go!"</p>
+
+<p>Running as silently as they could in the darkness,
+they reached the deadend cavern without being
+seen. What noise they made was lost in other footsteps
+that sounded and echoed through the connecting
+caves. Once inside, they found cover behind
+a ridge and waited. The end was certain.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The magter ran swiftly into their cave, flashing his
+light into all the places of concealment. The beam
+passed over the two hidden men, and at the same
+instant Brion fired. The shot boomed loudly as the
+magter fell&mdash;a shot that would surely have been
+heard by the others.</p>
+
+<p>Before anyone else came into the cave, Brion ran
+over and grabbed the still functioning light. Propping
+it on the rocks so it shone on the entrance, he hurried
+back to shelter beside Ulv. They waited for the attack.</p>
+
+<p>It was not long in coming. Two magter rushed in,
+and died. More were outside, Brion knew, and he
+wondered how long it would be before they remembered
+the grenades and rolled one into their shelter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>An indistinct murmur sounded outside, and sharp
+explosions. In their hiding place, Brion and Ulv
+crouched low and wondered why the attack didn't
+come. Then one of the magter came in the entrance,
+but Brion hesitated before shooting.</p>
+
+<p>The man had <i>backed</i> in, firing behind him as he
+came.</p>
+
+<p>Ulv had no compunctions about killing, only his
+darts couldn't penetrate the magter's thick clothing.
+As the magter turned, Ulv's breath pulsed once and
+death stung the back of the other man's hand. He
+collapsed into a crumpled heap.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't shoot," a voice called from outside the cave,
+and a man stepped through the swirling dust and
+smoke to stand in the beam from the light.</p>
+
+<p>Brion clutched wildly at Ulv's arm, dragging the
+blowgun from the Disan's mouth.</p>
+
+<p>The man in the light wore a protective helmet,
+thick boots and a pouch-hung uniform.</p>
+
+<p>He was a Nyjorder.</p>
+
+<p>The realization was almost impossible to accept.
+Brion had heard the bombs fall. Yet the Nyjord soldier
+was here. The two facts couldn't be accepted
+together.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you keep a hold on his arm, sir, just in
+case," the soldier said, glancing warily at Ulv's blowpipe.
+"I know what those darts can do." He pulled a
+microphone from one of his pockets and spoke into
+it.</p>
+
+<p>More soldiers crowded into the cave, and Professor-Commander
+Krafft came in behind them. He
+looked strangely out of keeping in the dusty combat
+uniform. The gun was even more incongruous in his
+blue-veined hand. After giving the pistol to the nearest
+soldier with an air of relief, he stumbled quickly
+over to Brion and took his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a profound and sincere pleasure to meet you
+in person," he said. "And your friend Ulv as well."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you kindly explain what is going on?"
+Brion said thickly. He was obsessed by the strange
+feeling that none of this could possibly be happening.</p>
+
+<p>"We will always remember you as the man who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>
+saved us from ourselves," Krafft said, once again the
+professor instead of the commander.</p>
+
+<p>"What Brion wants are facts, Grandpa, not
+speeches," Hys said. The bent form of the leader of
+the rebel Nyjord army pushed through the crowd of
+taller men until he stood next to Krafft. "Simply
+stated, Brion, your plan succeeded. Krafft relayed
+your message to me&mdash;and as soon as I heard it I
+turned back and met him on his ship. I'm sorry that
+Telt's dead&mdash;but he found what we were looking for.
+I couldn't ignore his report of radioactive traces. Your
+girl friend arrived with the hacked-up corpse at the
+same time I did, and we all took a long look at the
+green leech in its skull. Her explanation of what it is
+made significant sense. We were already carrying out
+landings when we had your call about something
+having been stored in the magter tower. After that
+it was just a matter of following tracks&mdash;and the
+transmitter you planted."</p>
+
+<p>"But the explosions at midnight?" Brion broke in. "I
+heard them!"</p>
+
+<p>"You were supposed to," Hys laughed. "Not only
+you, but the magter in this cave. We figured they
+would be armed and the cave strongly defended. So
+at midnight we dropped a few large chemical explosive
+bombs at the entrance. Enough to kill the
+guards without bringing the roof down. We also
+hoped that the magter deeper in would leave their
+posts or retreat from the imagined radiation. And
+they did. It worked like a charm. We came in quietly
+and took them by surprise. Made a clean sweep&mdash;killed
+the ones we couldn't capture."</p>
+
+<p>"One of the renegade jump-space technicians was
+still alive," Krafft said. "He told us about your stopping
+the bombs aimed at Nyjord, the two of you."</p>
+
+<p>None of the Nyjorders there could add anything to
+his words, not even the cynical Hys. But Brion could
+empathize their feelings, the warmth of their intense
+relief and happiness. It was a sensation he would
+never forget.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no more war," Brion translated for Ulv,
+knowing that the Disan had understood nothing of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>
+the explanation. As he said it, he realized that there
+was one glaring error in the story.</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't have done it," Brion said. "You landed
+on this planet <i>before</i> you had my message about
+the tower. That means you still expected the magter
+to be sending their bombs to Nyjord&mdash;and you made
+the landings in spite of this knowledge."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," Professor Krafft said, astonished at
+Brion's lack of understanding. "What else could we
+do? The magter are sick!"</p>
+
+<p>Hys laughed aloud at Brion's baffled expression.
+"You have to understand Nyjord psychology," he
+said. "When it was a matter of war and killing, my
+planet could never agree on an intelligent course.
+War is so alien to our philosophy that it couldn't even
+be considered correctly. That's the trouble with being
+a vegetable eater in a galaxy of carnivores. You're
+easy prey for the first one that lands on your back.
+Any other planet would have jumped on the magter
+with both feet and shaken the bombs out of them.
+We fumbled it so long it almost got both worlds
+killed. Your mind-parasite drew us back from the
+brink."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand," Brion said.</p>
+
+<p>"A simple matter of definition. Before you came we
+had no way to deal with the magter here on Dis.
+They really were alien to us. Nothing they did made
+sense&mdash;and nothing we did seemed to have the
+slightest effect on them. But you discovered that they
+were <i>sick</i>, and that's something we know how to
+handle. We're united again; my rebel army was instantly
+absorbed into the rest of the Nyjord forces by
+mutual agreement. Doctors and nurses are on the
+way here now. Plans were put under way to evacuate
+what part of the population we could until the bombs
+were found. The planet is united again, and working
+hard."</p>
+
+<p>"Because the magter are sick, infected by a destructive
+life form?" Brion asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly so," Professor Krafft said. "We are civilized,
+after all. You can't expect us to fight a war<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>&mdash;and
+you surely can't expect us to ignore the plight of
+sick neighbors?"</p>
+
+<p>"No ... you surely can't," Brion said, sitting down
+heavily. He looked at Ulv, to whom the speech had
+been incomprehensible. Beyond him, Hys wore his
+most cynical expression as he considered the frailties
+of his people.</p>
+
+<p>"Hys," Brion called out, "you translate all that into
+Disan and explain to Ulv. I wouldn't dare."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Dis was a floating golden ball, looking like a
+schoolroom globe in space. No clouds obscured its
+surface, and from this distance it seemed warm and
+attractive set against the cold darkness. Brion almost
+wished he were back there now, as he sat shivering
+inside the heavy coat. He wondered how long it
+would be before his confused body-temperature controls
+decided to turn off the summer adjustment. He
+hoped it wouldn't be as sudden or as drastic as
+turning it on had been.</p>
+
+<p>Delicate as a dream, Lea's reflection swam in space
+next to the planet. She had come up quietly behind
+him in the spaceship's corridor, only her gentle
+breath and mirrored face telling him she was there.
+He turned quickly and took her hands in his.</p>
+
+<p>"You're looking infinitely better," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I should," she said, pushing back her hair in
+an unconscious gesture with her hand. "I've been
+doing nothing but lying in the ship's hospital, while
+you were having such a fine time this last week. Rushing
+around down there shooting all the magter."</p>
+
+<p>"Just gassing them," he told her. "The Nyjorders
+can't bring themselves to kill any more, even if it
+does raise their own casualty rate. In fact, they are
+having difficulty restraining the Disans led by Ulv,
+who are happily killing any magter they see as being
+pure <i>umedvirk</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"What will they do when they have all those frothing
+magter madmen?"</p>
+
+<p>"They don't know yet," he said. "They won't really
+know until they see what an adult magter is like with
+his brain-parasite dead and gone. They're having better
+luck with the children. If they catch them early
+enough, the parasite can be destroyed before it has
+done too much damage."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lea shuddered delicately and let herself lean
+against him. "I'm not that sturdy yet; let's sit down
+while we talk." There was a couch opposite the viewport
+where they could sit and still see Dis.</p>
+
+<p>"I hate to think of a magter deprived of his symbiote,"
+she said. "If his system can stand the shock, I
+imagine there will be nothing left except a brainless
+hulk. This is one series of experiments I don't care to
+witness. I rest secure in the knowledge that the Nyjorders
+will find the most humane solution."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure they will," Brion said.</p>
+
+<p>"Now what about us?" she said disconcertingly,
+leaning back in his arms. "I must say you have the
+highest body temperature of any one I have ever
+touched. It's positively exciting."</p>
+
+<p>This jarred Brion even more. He didn't have her
+ability to put past horrors out of the mind by substituting
+present pleasures. "Well, just what about us?"
+he said with masterful inappropriateness.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled as she leaned against him. "You weren't
+as vague as that, the night in the hospital room. I
+seem to remember a few other things you said. And
+did. You can't claim you're completely indifferent to
+me, Brion Brandd. So I'm only asking you what any
+outspoken Anvharian girl would. Where do we go
+from here? Get married?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a definite pleasure in holding her slight
+body in his arms and feeling her hair against his
+cheek. They both sensed it, and this awareness made
+his words sound that much more ugly.</p>
+
+<p>"Lea&mdash;darling! You know how important you are to
+me&mdash;but you certainly realize that we could never
+get married."</p>
+
+<p>Her body stiffened and she tore herself away from
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you great, fat, egotistical slab of meat!
+What do you mean by that? I like you, Lea, we have
+plenty of fun and games together, but surely you
+realize that you aren't the kind of girl one takes home
+to mother!"</p>
+
+<p>"Lea, hold on," he said. "You know better than to
+say a thing like that. What I said has nothing to do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>
+with how I feel towards you. But marriage means
+children, and you are biologist enough to know about
+Earth's genes&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Intolerant yokel!" she cried, slapping his face. He
+didn't move or attempt to stop her. "I expected better
+from you, with all your pretensions of understanding.
+But all you can think of are the horror stories
+about the worn-out genes of Earth. You're the same
+as every other big, strapping bigot from the frontier
+planets. I know how you look down on our small size,
+our allergies and haemophilia and all the other weaknesses
+that have been bred back and preserved by
+the race. You hate&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But that's not what I meant at all," he interrupted,
+shocked, his voice drowning hers out. "Yours
+are the strong genes, the viable strains&mdash;<i>mine</i> are the
+deadly ones. A child of mine would kill itself and you
+in a natural birth, if it managed to live to term.
+You're forgetting that you are the original homo sapiens.
+I'm a recent mutation."</p>
+
+<p>Lea was frozen by his words. They revealed a
+truth she had known, but would never permit herself
+to consider.</p>
+
+<p>"Earth is home, the planet where mankind developed,"
+he said. "The last few thousand years you
+may have been breeding weaknesses back into the
+genetic pool. But that's nothing compared to the
+hundred millions of years that it took to develop
+man. How many newborn babies live to be a year of
+age on Earth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why ... almost all of them. A fraction of one per
+cent die each year&mdash;I can't recall exactly how many."</p>
+
+<p>"Earth is home," he said again gently. "When men
+leave home they can adapt to different planets, but a
+price must be paid. A terrible price is in dead infants.
+The successful mutations live, the failures die. Natural
+selection is a brutally simple affair. When you look
+at me, you see a success. I have a sister&mdash;a success
+too. Yet my mother had six other children who died
+when they were still babies. And several others that
+never came to term. You know about these things,
+don't you, Lea?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I know, I know ..." she said sobbing into her
+hands. He held her now and she didn't pull away. "I
+know it all as a biologist&mdash;but I am so awfully tired
+of being a biologist, and top of my class and a mental
+match for any man. When I think about you, I do it
+as a woman, and can't admit any of this. I need
+someone, Brion, and I needed you so much because I
+loved you." She paused and wiped her eyes. "You're
+going home, aren't you? Back to Anvhar. When?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't wait too long," he said, unhappily. "Aside
+from my personal wants, I find myself remembering
+that I'm a part of Anvhar. When you think of the
+number of people who suffered and died&mdash;or
+adapted&mdash;so that I could be sitting here now ... well,
+it's a little frightening. I suppose it doesn't make
+sense logically that I should feel indebted to them.
+But I do. Anything I do now, or in the next few
+years, won't be as important as getting back to
+Anvhar."</p>
+
+<p>"And I won't be going back with you." It was a flat
+statement the way she said it, not a question.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you won't be," he said. "There is nothing on
+Anvhar for you."</p>
+
+<p>Lea was looking out of the port at Dis and her eyes
+were dry now. "Way back in my deeply buried
+unconscious I think I knew it would end this way,"
+she said. "If you think your little lecture on the
+Origins of Man was a novelty, it wasn't. It just reminded
+me of a number of things my glands had
+convinced me to forget. In a way, I envy you your
+weightlifter wife-to-be, and your happy kiddies. But
+not very much. Very early in life I resigned myself to
+the fact that there was no one on Earth I would care
+to marry. I always had these teen-age dreams of a
+hero from space who would carry me off, and I guess
+I slipped you into the pattern without realizing it.
+I'm old enough now to face the fact that I like my
+work more than a banal marriage, and I'll probably
+end up a frigid and virtuous old maid, with more
+degrees and titles than you have shot-putting records."</p>
+
+<p>As they looked through the port Dis began slowly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>
+to contract. Their ship drew away from it, heading
+towards Nyjord. They sat apart, without touching
+now. Leaving Dis meant leaving behind something
+they had shared. They had been strangers together
+there, on a strange world. For a brief time their
+lifelines had touched. That time was over now.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't we look happy!" Hys said, shambling
+towards them.</p>
+
+<p>"Fall dead and make me even happier then," Lea
+snapped bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>Hys ignored the acid tone of her words and sat
+down on the couch next to them. Since leaving command
+of his rebel Nyjord army he seemed much
+mellower. "Going to keep on working for the Cultural
+Relationships Foundation, Brion?" he asked. "You're
+the kind of man we need."</p>
+
+<p>Brion's eyes widened as the meaning of the last
+words penetrated. "Are you in the C.R.F.?"</p>
+
+<p>"Field agent for Nyjord," he said. "I hope you don't
+think those helpless office types like Faussel or
+Mervv really represented us there? They just took
+notes and acted as a front and cover for the organization.
+Nyjord is a fine planet, but a gentle guiding
+hand behind the scenes is needed, to help them find
+their place in the galaxy before they are pulverized."</p>
+
+<p>"What's your dirty game, Hys?" Lea asked, scowling.
+"I've had enough hints to suspect for a long time
+that there was more to the C.R.F. than the sweetness-and-light
+part I have seen. Are you people egomaniacs,
+power hungry or what?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the first charge that would be leveled at us
+if our activities were publicly known," Hys told her.
+"That's why we do most of our work under cover.
+The best fact I can give you to counter the charge is
+<i>money</i>. Just where do you think we get the funds for
+an operation this size?" He smiled at their blank
+looks. "You'll see the records later so there won't be
+any doubt. The truth is that all our funds are donated
+by planets we have helped. Even a tiny percentage
+of a planetary income is large&mdash;add enough of them
+together and you have enough money to help other
+planets. And voluntary gratitude is a perfect test, if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>
+you stop to think about it. You can't talk people into
+liking what you have done. They have to be convinced.
+There have always been people on C.R.F.
+worlds who knew about our work, and agreed with it
+enough to see that we are kept in funds."</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you telling me all this super-secret stuff,"
+Lea asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't that obvious? We want you to keep on working
+for us. You can name whatever salary you like&mdash;as
+I've said, there is no shortage of ready cash."</p>
+
+<p>Hys glanced quickly at them both and delivered
+the clinching argument. "I hope Brion will go on
+working with us too. He is the kind of field agent we
+desperately need, and it is almost impossible to find."</p>
+
+<p>"Just show me where to sign," Lea said, and there
+was life in her voice once again.</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't exactly call it blackmail," Brion smiled,
+"but I suppose if you people can juggle planetary
+psychologies, you must find that individuals can be
+pushed around like chessmen. Though you should
+realize that very little pushing is required this time."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you sign on?" Hys asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go back to Anvhar," Brion said, "but there
+really is no pressing hurry."</p>
+
+<p>"Earth," said Lea, "is overpopulated enough as it
+is."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 80%;' />
+
+<div class="blurb">
+<p style="text-align:center;"><b><big style="font-size:400%;">
+72<br />
+HOURS<br />
+IN HELL</big></b><br />
+<br />
+<br /></p>
+
+<p style="text-align:center;">
+Dis was a harsh, inhospitable,<br />
+dangerous place and the Magter made it worse.<br />
+They might have been human<br />
+once&mdash;but they were something else now.<br />
+The Magter had only one desire&mdash;Kill!<br />
+Kill everything, themselves, their planet,<br />
+the universe if they could&mdash;<br />
+Brion Brandd was sent in at the<br />
+eleventh hour. His mission was to save Dis, but<br />
+it looked as though he was going to<br />
+preside over its annihilation.<br /><br /><br />
+</p>
+
+<p style="text-align:center; margin-bottom: 0em;"><big style="font-size:200%;"><b>
+PLANET OF THE DAMNED</b></big></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p style="text-align:center; margin-top: 0em;"><big style="font-size:200%;"><b>
+HARRY HARRISON</b></big></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of the Damned, by Harry Harrison
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/21873-h/images/bantam_logo.jpg b/21873-h/images/bantam_logo.jpg
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--- /dev/null
+++ b/21873-h/images/bantam_logo.jpg
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+++ b/21873.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6902 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of the Damned, by Harry Harrison
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Planet of the Damned
+
+Author: Harry Harrison
+
+Release Date: June 20, 2007 [EBook #21873]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANET OF THE DAMNED ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, William Woods and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's note: This etext was produced from the 1962 book
+publication of the story, which was originally published in Analog
+Science Fact-Science Fiction, Sept.-Nov. 1961. Extensive research did
+not uncover any evidence that the copyright on this publication was
+renewed.]
+
+
+
+
+                      EVIL
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brion entered the temple and stood as if rooted to the
+ground. There was a horror in this place--it clung to
+everything. Muffled and hooded men stood silent and
+unmoving about the room, their attention rigidly focused
+on a figure in the center. Brion wondered how he knew they
+were men--only their eyes showed, eyes completely empty
+of expression yet somehow reminding him of a bird of prey.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Then suddenly the figure in the center moved. It was a
+weird, crazily menacing action--and in an instant Brion
+knew he had found the enemy, the source of the evil that
+infected the PLANET OF THE DAMNED.
+
+
+Bantam Books by Harry Harrison
+
+Ask your bookseller for the books you have missed.
+
+     DEATHWORLD
+     DEATHWORLD II
+     PLANET OF THE DAMNED
+     TWO TALES AND EIGHT TOMORROWS
+     THE JUPITER LEGACY (PLAGUE FROM SPACE)
+
+
+
+               PLANET OF
+               THE DAMNED
+
+     BY HARRY HARRISON
+
+[Illustration: BANTAM BOOKS
+TORONTO NEW YORK LONDON]
+
+A NATIONAL GENERAL COMPANY
+
+
+PLANET OF THE DAMNED
+
+_A Bantam Book / published January 1962_
+_New Bantam edition published February 1971_
+
+_All rights reserved._
+_Copyright (C) 1962, by Harry Harrison._
+
+_This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by
+mimeograph or any other means, without permission._
+
+_For information address: Bantam Books, Inc._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, Inc., a National
+General company. Its trade-mark, consisting of the words "Bantam
+Books" and the portrayal of a bantam, is registered in the United
+States Patent Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada.
+Bantam Books, Inc., 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10019._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+
+                    For my Mother and Father--
+
+                      RIA AND LEO HARRISON
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+     _A man said to the universe:
+     "Sir, I exist!"
+     "However" replied the universe,
+     "The fact has not created in me
+      A sense of obligation."_
+
+                         STEPHEN CRANE
+
+
+Sweat covered Brion's body, trickling into the tight loincloth that
+was the only garment he wore. The light fencing foil in his hand
+felt as heavy as a bar of lead to his exhausted muscles, worn out by
+a month of continual exercise. These things were of no importance.
+The cut on his chest, still dripping blood, the ache of his
+overstrained eyes--even the soaring arena around him with the
+thousands of spectators--were trivialities not worth thinking about.
+There was only one thing in his universe: the button-tipped length
+of shining steel that hovered before him, engaging his own weapon.
+He felt the quiver and scrape of its life, knew when it moved and
+moved himself to counteract it. And when he attacked, it was always
+there to beat him aside.
+
+A sudden motion. He reacted--but his blade just met air. His instant
+of panic was followed by a small sharp blow high on his chest.
+
+"_Touch!_" A world-shaking voice bellowed the word to a million
+waiting loudspeakers, and the applause of the audience echoed back
+in a wave of sound.
+
+"One minute," a voice said, and the time buzzer sounded.
+
+Brion had carefully conditioned the reflex in himself. A minute is
+not a very large measure of time and his body needed every fraction
+of it. The buzzer's whirr triggered his muscles into complete
+relaxation. Only his heart and lungs worked on at a strong,
+measured rate. His eyes closed and he was only distantly aware of
+his handlers catching him as he fell, carrying him to his bench.
+While they massaged his limp body and cleansed the wound, all of his
+attention was turned inward. He was in reverie, sliding along the
+borders of consciousness. The nagging memory of the previous night
+loomed up then, and he turned it over and over in his mind,
+examining it from all sides.
+
+It was the very unexpectedness of the event that had been so
+unusual. The contestants in the Twenties needed undisturbed rest,
+therefore nights in the dormitories were as quiet as death. During
+the first few days, of course, the rule wasn't observed too closely.
+The men themselves were too keyed up and excited to rest easily. But
+as soon as the scores began to mount and eliminations cut into their
+ranks, there was complete silence after dark. Particularly so on
+this last night, when only two of the little cubicles were occupied,
+the thousands of others standing with dark, empty doors.
+
+Angry words had dragged Brion from a deep and exhausted sleep. The
+words were whispered but clear--two voices, just outside the thin
+metal of his door. Someone spoke his name.
+
+"... Brion Brandd. Of course not. Whoever said you could was making
+a big mistake and there is going to be trouble--"
+
+"Don't talk like an idiot!" The other voice snapped with a harsh
+urgency, clearly used to command. "I'm here because the matter is of
+utmost importance, and Brandd is the one I must see. Now stand aside!"
+
+"The Twenties--"
+
+"I don't give a damn about your games, hearty cheers and physical
+exercises. This is _important_, or I wouldn't be here!"
+
+The other didn't speak--he was surely one of the officials--and
+Brion could sense his outraged anger. He must have drawn his gun,
+because the intruder said quickly, "Put that away. You're being a
+fool!"
+
+"Out!" was the single snarled word of the response. There was
+silence then and, still wondering, Brion was once more asleep.
+
+"Ten seconds."
+
+The voice chopped away Brion's memories and he let awareness seep
+back into his body. He was unhappily conscious of his total
+exhaustion. The month of continuous mental and physical combat had
+taken its toll. It would be hard to stay on his feet, much less
+summon the strength and skill to fight and win a touch.
+
+"How do we stand?" he asked the handler who was kneading his aching
+muscles.
+
+"Four-four. All you need is a touch to win!"
+
+"That's all he needs too," Brion grunted, opening his eyes to look
+at the wiry length of the man at the other end of the long mat. No
+one who had reached the finals in the Twenties could possibly be
+a weak opponent, but this one, Irolg, was the pick of the lot. A
+red-haired mountain of a man, with an apparently inexhaustible store
+of energy. That was really all that counted now. There could be
+little art in this last and final round of fencing. Just thrust and
+parry, and victory to the stronger.
+
+Brion closed his eyes again and knew the moment he had been hoping
+to avoid had arrived.
+
+Every man who entered the Twenties had his own training tricks.
+Brion had a few individual ones that had helped him so far. He was
+a moderately strong chess player, but he had moved to quick victory
+in the chess rounds by playing incredibly unorthodox games. This was
+no accident, but the result of years of work. He had a standing order
+with off-planet agents for archaic chess books, the older the
+better. He had memorized thousands of these ancient games and
+openings. This was allowed. Anything was allowed that didn't involve
+drugs or machines. Self-hypnosis was an accepted tool.
+
+It had taken Brion over two years to find a way to tap the sources
+of hysterical strength. Common as the phenomenon seemed to be in the
+textbooks, it proved impossible to duplicate. There appeared to be
+an immediate association with the death-trauma, as if the two were
+inextricably linked into one. Berserkers and juramentados continue
+to fight and kill though carved by scores of mortal wounds. Men with
+bullets in the heart or brain fight on, though already clinically
+dead. Death seemed an inescapable part of this kind of strength.
+But there was another type that could easily be brought about in any
+deep trance--hypnotic rigidity. The strength that enables someone
+in a trance to hold his body stiff and unsupported except at two
+points, the head and heels. This is physically impossible when
+conscious. Working with this as a clue, Brion had developed a
+self-hypnotic technique that allowed him to tap this reservoir of
+unknown strength--the source of "second wind," the survival strength
+that made the difference between life and death.
+
+It could also kill--exhaust the body beyond hope of recovery,
+particularly when in a weakened condition as his was now. But that
+wasn't important. Others had died before during the Twenties, and
+death during the last round was in some ways easier than defeat.
+
+Breathing deeply, Brion softly spoke the auto-hypnotic phrases that
+triggered the process. Fatigue fell softly from him, as did all
+sensations of heat, cold and pain. He could feel with acute
+sensitivity, hear, and see clearly when he opened his eyes.
+
+With each passing second the power drew at the basic reserves of
+life, draining it from his body.
+
+When the buzzer sounded he pulled his foil from his second's
+startled grasp, and ran forward. Irolg had barely time to grab up
+his own weapon and parry Brion's first thrust. The force of his rush
+was so great that the guards on their weapons locked, and their
+bodies crashed together. Irolg looked amazed at the sudden fury of
+the attack--then smiled. He thought it was a last burst of energy,
+he knew how close they both were to exhaustion. This must be the end
+for Brion.
+
+They disengaged and Irolg put up a solid defense. He didn't attempt
+to attack, just let Brion wear himself out against the firm shield
+of his defense.
+
+Brion saw something close to panic on his opponent's face when the
+man finally recognized his error. Brion wasn't tiring. If anything,
+he was pressing the attack. A wave of despair rolled out from
+Irolg--Brion sensed it and knew the fifth point was his.
+
+Thrust--thrust--and each time the parrying sword a little slower to
+return. Then the powerful twist that thrust it aside. In and under
+the guard. The slap of the button on flesh and the arc of steel that
+reached out and ended on Irolg's chest over his heart.
+
+Waves of sound--cheering and screaming--lapped against Brion's
+private world, but he was only remotely aware of their existence.
+Irolg dropped his foil, and tried to shake Brion's hand, but his
+legs suddenly gave way. Brion had an arm around him, holding him up,
+walking towards the rushing handlers. Then Irolg was gone and he
+waved off his own men, walking slowly by himself.
+
+Except that something was wrong and it was like walking through warm
+glue. Walking on his knees. No, not walking, falling. At last. He
+was able to let go and fall.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+Ihjel gave the doctors exactly one day before he went to the
+hospital. Brion wasn't dead, though there had been some doubt about
+that the night before. Now, a full day later, he was on the mend and
+that was all Ihjel wanted to know. He bullied and strong-armed his
+way to the new Winner's room, meeting his first stiff resistance at
+the door.
+
+"You're out of order, Winner Ihjel," the doctor said. "And if you
+keep on forcing yourself in here, where you are not wanted, rank or
+no rank, I shall be obliged to break your head."
+
+Ihjel had just begun to tell him, in some detail, just how slim his
+chances were of accomplishing that, when Brion interrupted them
+both. He recognized the newcomer's voice from the final night in
+the barracks.
+
+"Let him in, Dr. Caulry," he said. "I want to meet a man who thinks
+there is something more important than the Twenties."
+
+While the doctor stood undecided, Ihjel moved quickly around him and
+closed the door in his flushed face. He looked down at the Winner in
+the bed. There was a drip plugged into each one of Brion's arms. His
+eyes peered from sooty hollows; the eyeballs were a network of red
+veins. The silent battle he fought against death had left its mark.
+His square, jutting jaw now seemed all bone, as did his long nose
+and high cheekbones. They were prominent landmarks rising from the
+limp greyness of his skin. Only the erect bristle of his
+close-cropped hair was unchanged. He had the appearance of having
+suffered a long and wasting illness.
+
+"You look like sin," Ihjel said. "But congratulations on your
+victory."
+
+"You don't look so very good yourself--for a Winner," Brion snapped
+back. His exhaustion and sudden peevish anger at this man let the
+insulting words slip out. Ihjel ignored them.
+
+But it was true; Winner Ihjel looked very little like a Winner, or
+even an Anvharian. He had the height and the frame all right, but it
+was draped in billows of fat--rounded, soft tissue that hung loosely
+from his limbs and made little limp rolls on his neck and under his
+eyes. There were no fat men on Anvhar, and it was incredible that
+a man so gross could ever have been a Winner. If there was muscle
+under the fat it couldn't be seen. Only his eyes appeared to still
+hold the strength that had once bested every man on the planet to
+win the annual games. Brion turned away from their burning stare,
+sorry now he had insulted the man without good reason. He was too
+sick, though, to bother about apologizing.
+
+Ihjel didn't care either. Brion looked at him again and felt the
+impression of things so important that he himself, his insults, even
+the Twenties were of no more interest than dust motes in the air. It
+was only a fantasy of a sick mind, Brion knew, and he tried to shake
+the feeling off. The two men stared at each other, sharing a common
+emotion.
+
+The door opened soundlessly behind Ihjel and he wheeled about,
+moving as only an athlete of Anvhar can move. Dr. Caulry was halfway
+through the door, off balance. Two men in uniform came close behind
+him. Ihjel's body pushed against them, his speed and the mountainous
+mass of his flesh sending them back in a tangle of arms and legs. He
+slammed the door and locked it in their faces.
+
+"I have to talk to you," he said, turning back to Brion.
+"Privately," he added, bending over and ripping out the communicator
+with a sweep of one hand.
+
+"Get out," Brion told him. "If I were able--"
+
+"Well, you're not, so you're just going to have to lie there and
+listen. I imagine we have about five minutes before they decide to
+break the door down, and I don't want to waste any more of that.
+Will you come with me offworld? There's a job that must be done;
+it's my job, but I'm going to need help. You're the only one who can
+give me that help.
+
+"Now refuse," he added as Brion started to answer.
+
+"Of course I refuse," Brion said, feeling a little foolish and
+slightly angry, as if the other man had put the words into his
+mouth. "Anvhar is my planet--why should I leave? My life is here and
+so is my work. I also might add that I have just won the Twenties.
+I have a responsibility to remain."
+
+"Nonsense. I'm a Winner, and I left. What you really mean is you
+would like to enjoy a little of the ego-inflation you have worked so
+hard to get. Off Anvhar no one even knows what a Winner is--much
+less respects one. You will have to face a big universe out there,
+and I don't blame you for being a little frightened."
+
+Someone was hammering loudly on the door.
+
+"I haven't the strength to get angry," Brion said hoarsely. "And
+I can't bring myself to admire your ideas when they permit you to
+insult a man too ill to defend himself."
+
+"I apologize," Ihjel said, with no hint of apology or sympathy in
+his voice. "But there are more desperate issues involved than your
+hurt feelings. We don't have much time now, so I want to impress you
+with an idea."
+
+"An idea that will convince me to go offplanet with you? That's
+expecting a lot."
+
+"No, this idea won't convince you--but thinking about it will.
+If you really _consider_ it you will find a lot of your illusions
+shattered. Like everyone else on Anvhar, you're a scientific
+humanist, with your faith firmly planted in the Twenties. You accept
+both of these noble institutions without an instant's thought. All
+of you haven't a single thought for the past, for the untold
+billions who led the bad life as mankind slowly built up the good
+life for you to lead. Do you ever think of all the people who
+suffered and died in misery and superstition while civilization
+was clicking forward one more slow notch?"
+
+"Of course I don't think about them," Brion retorted. "Why should I?
+I can't change the past."
+
+"But you can change the future!" Ihjel said. "You owe something
+to the suffering ancestors who got you where you are today. If
+Scientific Humanism means anything more than just words to you,
+you must possess a sense of responsibility. Don't you want to try
+and pay off a bit of this debt by helping others who are just as
+backward and disease-ridden today as great-grandfather Troglodyte
+ever was?"
+
+The hammering on the door was louder. This and the drug-induced
+buzzing in Brion's ear made thinking difficult. "Abstractly, I of
+course agree with you," he said haltingly. "But you know there is
+nothing I can do personally without being emotionally involved. A
+logical decision is valueless for action without personal meaning."
+
+"Then we have reached the crux of the matter," Ihjel said gently.
+His back was braced against the door, absorbing the thudding blows
+of some heavy object on the outside. "They're knocking, so I must be
+going soon. I have no time for details, but I can assure you upon my
+word of honor as a Winner that there is something you can do. Only
+you. If you help me we might save seven million human lives. That
+is a fact."
+
+The lock burst and the door started to open. Ihjel shouldered it
+back into the frame for a final instant.
+
+"Here is the idea I want you to consider. Why is it that the people
+of Anvhar, in a galaxy filled with warring, hate-filled, backward
+planets, should be the only ones who base their entire existence
+on a complicated series of games?"
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+This time there was no way to hold the door. Ihjel didn't try. He
+stepped aside and two men stumbled into the room. He walked out
+behind their backs without saying a word.
+
+"What happened? What did he do?" the doctor asked, rushing in
+through the ruined door. He swept a glance over the continuous
+recording dials at the foot of Brion's bed. Respiration,
+temperature, heart, blood pressure--all were normal. The patient lay
+quietly and didn't answer him.
+
+For the rest of that day, Brion had much to think about. It was
+difficult. The fatigue, mixed with the tranquilizers and other
+drugs, had softened his contact with reality. His thoughts kept
+echoing back and forth in his mind, unable to escape. What had Ihjel
+meant? What was that nonsense about Anvhar? Anvhar was that way
+because--well, it just was. It had come about naturally. Or had it?
+
+The planet had a very simple history. From the very beginning there
+had never been anything of real commercial interest on Anvhar. Well
+off the interstellar trade routes, there were no minerals worth
+digging and transporting the immense distances to the nearest
+inhabited worlds. Hunting the winter beasts for their pelts was a
+profitable but very minor enterprise, never sufficient for mass
+markets. Therefore no organized attempt had ever been made to
+colonize the planet. In the end it had been settled completely by
+chance. A number of offplanet scientific groups had established
+observation and research stations, finding unlimited data to observe
+and record during Anvhar's unusual yearly cycle. The long-duration
+observations encouraged the scientific workers to bring their
+families and, slowly but steadily, small settlements grew up. Many
+of the fur hunters settled there as well, adding to the small
+population. This had been the beginning.
+
+Few records existed of those early days, and the first six centuries
+of Anvharian history were more speculation than fact. The Breakdown
+occurred about that time, and in the galaxy-wide disruption Anvhar
+had to fight its own internal battle. When the Earth Empire
+collapsed it was the end of more than an era. Many of the
+observation stations found themselves representing institutions that
+no longer existed. The professional hunters no longer had markets
+for their furs, since Anvhar possessed no interstellar ships of its
+own. There had been no real physical hardship involved in the
+Breakdown as it affected Anvhar, since the planet was completely
+self-sufficient. Once they had made the mental adjustment to the
+fact that they were now a sovereign world, not a collection of
+casual visitors with various loyalties, life continued unchanged.
+Not easy--living on Anvhar is never easy--but at least without
+difference on the surface.
+
+The thoughts and attitudes of the people were, however, going
+through a great transformation. Many attempts were made to develop
+some form of stable society and social relationship. Again, little
+record exists of these early trials, other than the fact of their
+culmination in the Twenties.
+
+To understand the Twenties, you have to understand the unusual orbit
+that Anvhar tracks around its sun, 70 Ophiuchi. There are other
+planets in this system, all of them more or less conforming to the
+plane of the ecliptic. Anvhar is obviously a rogue, perhaps a
+captured planet of another sun. For the greatest part of its 780-day
+year it arcs far out from its primary, in a high-angled sweeping
+cometary orbit. When it returns there is a brief, hot summer of
+approximately eighty days before the long winter sets in once more.
+This severe difference in seasonal change has caused profound
+adaptations in the native life forms. During the winter most of the
+animals hibernate, the vegetable life lying dormant as spores or
+seeds. Some of the warm-blooded herbivores stay active in the
+snow-covered tropics, preyed upon by fur-insulated carnivores.
+Though unbelievably cold, the winter is a season of peace in
+comparison to the summer.
+
+For summer is a time of mad growth. Plants burst into life with
+a strength that cracks rocks, growing fast enough for the motion
+to be seen. The snowfields melt into mud and within days a jungle
+stretches high into the air. Everything grows, swells, proliferates.
+Plants climb on top of plants, fighting for the life-energy of the
+sun. Everything is eat and be eaten, grow and thrive in that short
+season. Because when the first snow of winter falls again, ninety
+per cent of the year must pass until the next coming of warmth.
+
+Mankind has had to adapt to the Anvharian cycle in order to stay
+alive. Food must be gathered and stored, enough to last out the long
+winter. Generation after generation had adapted until they look on
+the mad seasonal imbalance as something quite ordinary. The first
+thaw of the almost nonexistent spring triggers a wide-reaching
+metabolic change in the humans. Layers of subcutaneous fat vanish
+and half-dormant sweat glands come to life. Other changes are more
+subtle than the temperature adjustment, but equally important. The
+sleep center of the brain is depressed. Short naps or a night's rest
+every third or fourth day becomes enough. Life takes on a hectic and
+hysterical quality that is perfectly suited to the environment. By
+the time of the first frost, rapid-growing crops have been raised
+and harvested, sides of meat either preserved or frozen in mammoth
+lockers. With this supreme talent of adaptability mankind has become
+part of the ecology and guaranteed his own survival during the long
+winter.
+
+Physical survival has been guaranteed. But what about mental
+survival? Primitive Earth Eskimos can fall into a long doze of
+half-conscious hibernation. Civilized men might be able to do this,
+but only for the few cold months of terrestrial midwinter. It would
+be impossible to do during a winter that is longer than an Earth
+year. With all the physical needs taken care of, boredom became the
+enemy of any Anvharian who was not a hunter. And even the hunters
+could not stay out on solitary trek all winter. Drink was one
+answer, and violence another. Alcoholism and murder were the twin
+terrors of the cold season, after the Breakdown.
+
+It was the Twenties that ended all that. When they became a
+part of normal life the summer was considered just an interlude
+between games. The Twenties were more than just a contest--they
+became a way of life that satisfied all the physical, competitive
+and intellectual needs of this unusual planet. They were a
+decathlon--rather a double decathlon--raised to its highest power,
+where contests in chess and poetry composition held equal place
+with those in ski-jumping and archery. Each year there were two
+planet-wide contests held, one for men and one for women. This was
+not an attempt at sexual discrimination, but a logical facing of
+facts. Inherent differences prevented fair contests--for example, it
+is impossible for a woman to win a large chess tournament--and this
+fact was recognized. Anyone could enter for any number of years.
+There were no scoring handicaps.
+
+When the best man won he was really the best man. A complicated
+series of playoffs and eliminations kept contestants and observers
+busy for half the winter. They were only preliminary to the final
+encounter that lasted a month, and picked a single winner. That was
+the title he was awarded. Winner. The man--and woman--who had bested
+every other contestant on the entire planet and who would remain
+unchallenged until the following year.
+
+Winner. It was a title to take pride in. Brion stirred weakly on his
+bed and managed to turn so he could look out of the window. Winner
+of Anvhar. His name was already slated for the history books, one of
+the handful of planetary heroes. School children would be studying
+_him_ now, just as he had read of the Winners of the past. Weaving
+daydreams and imaginary adventures around Brion's victories, hoping
+and fighting to equal them someday. To be a Winner was the greatest
+honor in the universe.
+
+Outside, the afternoon sun shimmered weakly in a dark sky. The
+endless icefields soaked up the dim light, reflecting it back as a
+colder and harsher illumination. A single figure on skis cut a line
+across the empty plain; nothing else moved. The depression of the
+ultimate fatigue fell on Brion and everything changed, as if he
+looked in a mirror at a previously hidden side.
+
+He saw suddenly--with terrible clarity--that to be a Winner was to
+be absolutely nothing. Like being the best flea, among all the fleas
+on a single dog.
+
+What was Anvhar after all? An ice-locked planet, inhabited by a few
+million human fleas, unknown and unconsidered by the rest of the
+galaxy. There was nothing here worth fighting for; the wars after
+the Breakdown had left them untouched. The Anvharians had always
+taken pride in this--as if being so unimportant that no one else
+even wanted to come near you could possibly be a source of pride.
+All the other worlds of man grew, fought, won, lost, changed. Only
+on Anvhar did life repeat its sameness endlessly, like a loop of
+tape in a player....
+
+Brion's eyes were moist; he blinked. _Tears!_ Realization of this
+incredible fact wiped the maudlin pity from his mind and replaced it
+with fear. Had his mind snapped in the strain of the last match?
+These thoughts weren't his. Self-pity hadn't made him a Winner--why
+was he feeling it now? Anvhar was his universe--how could he even
+imagine it as a tag-end planet at the outer limb of creation? What
+had come over him and induced this inverse thinking?
+
+As he thought the question, the answer appeared at the same instant.
+Winner Ihjel. The fat man with the strange pronouncements and
+probing questions. Had he cast a spell like some sorcerer--or the
+devil in _Faust_? No, that was pure nonsense. But he had done
+something. Perhaps planted a suggestion when Brion's resistance was
+low. Or used subliminal vocalization like the villain in _Cerebrus
+Chained_. Brion could find no adequate reason on which to base his
+suspicions. But he knew, with sure positiveness, that Ihjel was
+responsible.
+
+He whistled at the sound-switch next to his pillow and the repaired
+communicator came to life. The duty nurse appeared in the small screen.
+
+"The man who was here today," Brion said, "Winner Ihjel. Do you know
+where he is? I must contact him."
+
+For some reason this flustered her professional calm. The nurse
+started to answer, excused herself, and blanked the screen. When
+it lit again a man in guard's uniform had taken her place.
+
+"You made an inquiry," the guard said, "about Winner Ihjel. We are
+holding him here in the hospital, following the disgraceful way in
+which he broke into your room."
+
+"I have no charges to make. Will you ask him to come and see me at
+once?"
+
+The guard controlled his shock. "I'm sorry, Winner--I don't see how
+we can. Dr. Caulry left specific orders that you were not to be--"
+
+"The doctor has no control over my personal life." Brion
+interrupted. "I'm not infectious, nor ill with anything more than
+extreme fatigue. I want to see that man. At once."
+
+The guard took a deep breath, and made a quick decision. "He is on
+the way up now," he said, and rung off.
+
+"What did you do to me?" Brion asked as soon as Ihjel had entered
+and they were alone. "You won't deny that you have put alien
+thoughts in my head?"
+
+"No, I won't deny it. Because the whole point of my being here is
+to get those 'alien' thoughts across to you."
+
+"Tell me how you did it," Brion insisted. "I must know."
+
+"I'll tell you--but there are many things you should understand
+first, before you decide to leave Anvhar. You must not only hear
+them, you will have to believe them. The primary thing, the clue
+to the rest, is the true nature of your life here. How do you think
+the Twenties originated?"
+
+Before he answered, Brion carefully took a double dose of the mild
+stimulant he was allowed. "I don't think," he said; "I know. It's
+a matter of historical record. The founder of the games was Giroldi,
+the first contest was held in 378 A.B. The Twenties have been held
+every year since then. They were strictly local affairs in the
+beginning, but were soon well established on a planet-wide scale."
+
+"True enough," Ihjel said. "But you're describing _what_ happened.
+I asked you _how_ the Twenties originated. How could any single man
+take a barbarian planet, lightly inhabited by half-mad hunters and
+alcoholic farmers, and turn it into a smooth-running social machine
+built around the artificial structure of the Twenties? It just
+couldn't be done."
+
+"But it _was_ done!" Brion insisted. "You can't deny that. And there
+is nothing artificial about the Twenties. They are a logical way to
+live a life on a planet like this."
+
+Ihjel laughed, a short ironic bark. "Very logical," he said; "but
+how often does logic have anything to do with the organization of
+social groups and governments? You're not thinking. Put yourself in
+founder Giroldi's place. Imagine that you have glimpsed the great
+idea of the Twenties and you want to convince others. So you walk up
+to the nearest louse-ridden, brawling, superstitious, booze-embalmed
+hunter and explain clearly. How a program of his favorite
+sports--things like poetry, archery and chess--can make his life
+that much more interesting and virtuous. You do that. But keep your
+eyes open at the same time, and be ready for a fast draw."
+
+Even Brion had to smile at the absurdity of the suggestion. Of
+course it couldn't happen that way. Yet, since it had happened,
+there must be a simple explanation.
+
+"We can beat this back and forth all day," Ihjel told him, "and you
+won't get the right idea unless--" He broke off suddenly, staring at
+the communicator. The operation light had come on, though the screen
+stayed dark. Ihjel reached down a meaty hand and pulled loose
+the recently connected wires. "That doctor of yours is very
+curious--and he's going to stay that way. The truth behind the
+Twenties is none of his business. But it's going to be yours. You
+must come to realize that the life you lead here is a complete and
+artificial construction, developed by Societics experts and put into
+application by skilled field workers."
+
+"Nonsense!" Brion broke in. "Systems of society can't be dreamed up
+and forced on people like that. Not without bloodshed and violence."
+
+"Nonsense, yourself," Ihjel told him. "That may have been true in
+the dawn of history, but not any more. You have been reading too
+many of the old Earth classics; you imagine that we still live in
+the Ages of Superstition. Just because fascism and communism were
+once forced on reluctant populations, you think this holds true for
+all time. Go back to your books. In exactly the same era democracy
+and self-government were adapted by former colonial states, like
+India and the Union of North Africa, and the only violence was
+between local religious groups. Change is the lifeblood of mankind.
+Everything we today accept as normal was at one time an innovation.
+And one of the most recent innovations is the attempt to guide the
+societies of mankind into something more consistent with the
+personal happiness of individuals."
+
+"The God complex," Brion said; "forcing human lives into a mold
+whether they want to be fitted into it or not."
+
+"Societies can be that," Ihjel agreed. "It was in the beginning, and
+there were some disastrous results of attempts to force populations
+into a political climate where they didn't belong. They weren't all
+failures--Anvhar here is a striking example of how good the
+technique can be when correctly applied. It's not done this way any
+more, though. As with all of the other sciences, we have found out
+that the more we know, the more there is to know. We no longer
+attempt to guide cultures towards what we consider a beneficial
+goal. There are too many goals, and from our limited vantage point
+it is hard to tell the good ones from the bad ones. All we do now
+is try to protect the growing cultures, give a little jolt to the
+stagnating ones--and bury the dead ones. When the work was first
+done here on Anvhar the theory hadn't progressed that far. The
+understandably complex equations that determine just where in the
+scale from a Type I to a Type V a culture is, had not yet been
+completed. The technique then was to work out an artificial culture
+that would be most beneficial for a planet, then bend it into the
+mold."
+
+"How can that be done?" Brion asked. "How was it done here?"
+
+"We've made some progress--you're finally asking 'how.' The
+technique here took a good number of agents, and a great deal of
+money. Personal honor was emphasized in order to encourage dueling,
+and this led to a heightened interest in the technique of personal
+combat. When this was well intrenched Giroldi was brought in, and
+he showed how organized competitions could be more interesting than
+haphazard encounters. Tying the intellectual aspects onto the
+framework of competitive sports was a little more difficult, but
+not overwhelmingly so. The details aren't important; all we are
+considering now is the end product. Which is you. You're needed
+very much."
+
+"Why me?" Brion asked. "Why am I special? Because I won the
+Twenties? I can't believe that. Taken objectively, there isn't that
+much difference between myself and the ten runner-ups. Why don't you
+ask one of them? They could do your job as well as I."
+
+"No, they couldn't. I'll tell you later why you are the only man
+I can use. Our time is running out and I must convince you of some
+other things first." Ihjel glanced at his watch. "We have less than
+three hours to dead-deadline. Before that time I must explain enough
+of our work to you to enable you to decide voluntarily to join us."
+
+"A very tall order," Brion said. "You might begin by telling me just
+who this mysterious 'we' is that you keep referring to."
+
+"The Cultural Relationships Foundation. A non-governmental body,
+privately endowed, existing to promote peace and ensure the
+sovereign welfare of independent planets, so that all will prosper
+from the good will and commerce thereby engendered."
+
+"Sounds as if you're quoting," Brion told him. "No one could
+possibly make up something that sounds like that on the spur of
+the moment."
+
+"I _was_ quoting, from our charter of organization. Which is all
+very fine in a general sense, but I'm talking specifically now.
+About you. You are the product of a tightly knit and very advanced
+society. Your individuality has been encouraged by your growing up
+in a society so small in population that a mild form of government
+control is necessary. The normal Anvharian education is an excellent
+one, and participation in the Twenties has given you a general and
+advanced education second to none in the galaxy. It would be a
+complete waste of your entire life if you now took all this training
+and wasted it on some rustic farm."
+
+"You give me very little credit. I plan to teach--"
+
+"Forget Anvhar!" Ihjel cut him off with a chop of his hand. "This
+world will roll on quite successfully whether you are here or not.
+You must forget it, think of its relative unimportance on a galactic
+scale, and consider instead the existing, suffering hordes of
+mankind. You must think what you can do to help them."
+
+"But what can I do--as an individual? The day is long past when
+a single man, like Caesar or Alexander, could bring about
+world-shaking changes."
+
+"True--but not true," Ihjel said. "There are key men in every
+conflict of forces, men who act like catalysts applied at the right
+instant to start a chemical reaction. You might be one of these men,
+but I must be honest and say that I can't prove it yet. So in order
+to save time and endless discussion, I think I will have to spark
+your personal sense of obligation."
+
+"Obligation to whom?"
+
+"To mankind, of course, to the countless billions of dead who kept
+the whole machine rolling along that allows you the full, long and
+happy life you enjoy today. What they gave to you, you must pass on
+to others. This is the keystone of humanistic morals."
+
+"Agreed. And a very good argument in the long run. But not one that
+is going to tempt me out of this bed within the next three hours."
+
+"A point of success," Ihjel said. "You agree with the general
+argument. Now I apply it specifically to you. Here is the statement
+I intend to prove. There exists a planet with a population of seven
+million people. Unless I can prevent it, this planet will be
+completely destroyed. It is my job to stop that destruction, so that
+is where I am going now. I won't be able to do the job alone. In
+addition to others, I need you. Not anyone like you--but you, and
+you alone."
+
+"You have precious little time left to convince me of all that,"
+Brion told him, "so let me make the job easier for you. The work you
+do, this planet, the imminent danger of the people there--these are
+all facts that you can undoubtedly supply. I'll take a chance that
+this whole thing is not a colossal bluff, and admit that given time,
+you could verify them all. This brings the argument back to me
+again. How can you possibly prove that I am the only person in the
+galaxy who can help you?"
+
+"I can prove it by your singular ability, the thing I came here to
+find."
+
+"Ability? I am different in no way from the other men on my planet."
+
+"You're wrong," Ihjel said. "You are the embodied proof of
+evolution. Rare individuals with specific talents occur constantly
+in any species, man included. It has been two generations since an
+empathetic was last born on Anvhar, and I have been watching
+carefully most of that time."
+
+"What in blazes is an empathetic--and how do you recognize it when
+you have found it?" Brion chuckled, this talk was getting
+preposterous.
+
+"I can recognize one because I'm one myself--there is no other way.
+As to how projective empathy works, you had a demonstration of that
+a little earlier, when you felt those strange thoughts about Anvhar.
+It will be a long time before you can master that, but receptive
+empathy is your natural trait. This is mentally entering into the
+feeling, or what could be called the spirit of another person.
+Empathy is not thought perception; it might better be described
+as the sensing of someone else's emotional makeup, feelings and
+attitudes. You can't lie to a trained empathetic, because he can
+sense the real attitude behind the verbal lies. Even your
+undeveloped talent has proved immensely useful in the Twenties.
+You can outguess your opponent because you know his movements
+even as his body tenses to make them. You accept this without
+ever questioning it."
+
+"How do you know?" This was Brion's understood, but never voiced secret.
+
+Ihjel smiled. "Just guessing. But I won the Twenties too, remember,
+also without knowing a thing about empathy at the time. On top of
+our normal training, it's a wonderful trait to have. Which brings me
+to the proof we mentioned a minute ago. When you said you would be
+convinced if I could prove you were the only person who could help
+me. I _believe_ you are--and that is one thing I cannot lie about.
+It's possible to lie about a belief verbally, to have a falsely
+based belief, or to change a belief. But you can't lie about it to
+yourself.
+
+"Equally important--you can't lie about a belief to an empathetic.
+Would you like to see how I feel about this? 'See' is a bad
+word--there is no vocabulary yet for this kind of thing. Better,
+would you join me in my feelings? Sense my attitudes, memories and
+emotions just as I do?"
+
+Brion tried to protest, but he was too late. The doors of his senses
+were pushed wide and he was overwhelmed.
+
+"Dis ..." Ihjel said aloud. "Seven million people ... hydrogen bombs
+... Brion Brandd." These were just key words, landmarks of
+association. With each one Brion felt the rushing wave of the other
+man's emotions.
+
+There could be no lies here--Ihjel was right in that. This was the
+raw stuff that feelings are made of, the basic reactions to the
+things and symbols of memory.
+
+DIS ... DIS ... DIS ... it was a word it was a planet and the word
+thundered like a drum a drum the sound of its thunder surrounded
+               and was a wasteland a planet
+                 of death a planet where
+                   living was dying and
+                       dying was very
+                         better than
+                           living
+
+  crude barbaric            DIS         hot burning scorching
+    backward miserable                wasteland of sands
+      dirty beneath                 and sands and sands and
+        consideration             sands that burned had
+          planet                 burned will burn forever
+                                 the people of this planet so
+                                   crude dirty miserable barbaric
+                                     sub-human in-human
+                                       less-than-human
+                      but
+                          they
+                               were
+                                    going
+                                          to
+                                              be
+                              DEAD
+
+  and DEAD they would be seven million blackened corpses
+      that would blacken your dreams all dreams dreams
+                  forever because those
+                H Y D R O G E N   B O M B S
+                        were waiting
+                          to kill
+                          them unless .. unless .. unless ..
+  you Ihjel stopped it you Ihjel (DEATH) you (DEATH)
+      you (DEATH) alone couldn't do it you (DEATH)
+                  must have
+  BRION BRANDD wet-behind-the-ears-raw-untrained-
+    Brion-Brandd-to-help-you he was the only one in the
+    galaxy who could finish the job..................................
+
+As the flow of sensation died away, Brion realized he was sprawled
+back weakly on his pillows, soaked with sweat, washed with the
+memory of the raw emotion. Across from him Ihjel sat with his face
+bowed in his hands. When he lifted his head Brion saw within his
+eyes a shadow of the blackness he had just experienced.
+
+"Death," Brion said. "That terrible feeling of death. It wasn't just
+the people of Dis who would die. It was something more personal."
+
+"Myself," Ihjel said, and behind this simple word were the repeated
+echoes of night that Brion had been made aware of with his newly
+recognized ability. "My own death, not too far away. This is the
+wonderfully terrible price you must pay for your talent. _Angst_ is
+an inescapable part of empathy. It is a part of the whole unknown
+field of psi phenomena that seems to be independent of time. Death
+is so traumatic and final that it reverberates back along the time
+line. The closer I get, the more aware of it I am. There is no exact
+feeling of date, just a rough location in time. That is the horror
+of it. I _know_ I will die soon after I get to Dis--and long before
+the work there is finished. I know the job to be done there, and I
+know the men who have already failed at it. I also know you are the
+only person who can possibly complete the work I have started. Do
+you agree now? Will you come with me?"
+
+"Yes, of course," Brion said. "I'll go with you."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+"I've never seen anyone quite as angry as that doctor," Brion said.
+
+"Can't blame him." Ihjel shifted his immense weight and grunted from
+the console, where he was having a coded conversation with the
+ship's brain. He hit the keys quickly, and read the answer from the
+screen. "You took away his medical moment of glory. How many times
+in his life will he have a chance to nurse back to rugged smiling
+health the triumphantly exhausted Winner of the Twenties?"
+
+"Not many, I imagine. The wonder of it is how you managed to
+convince him that you and the ship here could take care of me
+as well as his hospital could."
+
+"I could never convince him of that," Ihjel said. "But I and the
+Cultural Relationships Foundation have some powerful friends on
+Anvhar. I'm forced to admit I brought a little pressure to bear."
+He leaned back and read the course tape as it streamed out of the
+printer. "We have a little time to spare, but I would rather spend
+it waiting at the other end. We'll blast as soon as I have you tied
+down in a stasis field."
+
+The completeness of the stasis field leaves no impressions on the
+body or mind. In it there is no weight, no pressure, no pain--no
+sensation of any kind. Except for a stasis of very long duration,
+there is no sensation of time. To Brion's consciousness, Ihjel
+flipped the switch off with a continuation of the same motion that
+had turned it on. The ship was unchanged, only outside of the port
+was the red-shot blankness of jump-space.
+
+"How do you feel?" Ihjel asked.
+
+Apparently the ship was wondering the same thing. Its detector unit,
+hovering impatiently just outside of Brion's stasis field, darted
+down and settled on his bare forearm. The doctor back on Anvhar had
+given the medical section of the ship's brain a complete briefing.
+A quick check of a dozen factors of Brion's metabolism was compared
+to the expected norm. Apparently everything was going well, because
+the only reaction was the expected injection of vitamins and glucose.
+
+"I can't say I'm feeling wonderful yet," Brion answered, levering
+himself higher on the pillows. "But every day it's a bit
+better--steady progress."
+
+"I hope so, because we have about two weeks before we get to Dis.
+Do you think you'll be back in shape by that time?"
+
+"No promises," Brion said, giving a tentative squeeze to one bicep.
+"It should be enough time, though. Tomorrow I start mild exercise
+and that will tighten me up again. Now--tell me more about Dis and
+what you have to do there."
+
+"I'm not going to do it twice, so just save your curiosity awhile.
+We're heading for a rendezvous point now to pick up another
+operator. This is going to be a three-man team, you, me and an
+exobiologist. As soon as he is aboard I'll do a complete briefing
+for you both at the same time. What you can do now is get your head
+into the language box and start working on your Disan. You'll want
+to speak it perfectly by the time we touchdown."
+
+With an autohypno for complete recall, Brion had no difficulty in
+mastering the grammar and vocabulary of Disan. Pronunciation was
+a different matter altogether. Almost all the word endings were
+swallowed, muffled or gargled. The language was rich in glottal
+stops, clicks and guttural strangling sounds. Ihjel stayed in a
+different part of the ship when Brion used the voice mirror and
+analysis scope, claiming that the awful noises interfered with
+his digestion.
+
+Their ship angled through jump-space along its calculated course. It
+kept its fragile human cargo warm, fed them and supplied breathable
+air. It had orders to worry about Brion's health, so it did,
+checking constantly against its recorded instructions and noting
+his steady progress. Another part of the ship's brain counted
+microseconds with moronic fixation, finally closing a relay when
+a predetermined number had expired in its heart. A light flashed
+and a buzzer hummed gently but insistently.
+
+Ihjel yawned, put away the report he had been reading, and started
+for the control room. He shuddered when he passed the room where
+Brion was listening to a playback of his Disan efforts.
+
+"Turn off that dying brontosaurus and get strapped in," he called
+through the thin door. "We're coming to the point of optimum
+possibility and we'll be dropping back into normal space soon."
+
+The human mind can ponder the incredible distances between the
+stars, but cannot possibly contain within itself a real
+understanding of them. Marked out on a man's hand an inch is a large
+unit of measure. In interstellar space a cubical area with sides
+a hundred thousand miles long is a microscopically fine division.
+Light crosses this distance in a fraction of a second. To a ship
+moving with a relative speed far greater than that of light, this
+measuring unit is even smaller. Theoretically, it appears impossible
+to find a particular area of this size. Technologically, it was a
+repeatable miracle that occurred too often to even be interesting.
+
+Brion and Ihjel were strapped in when the jump-drive cut off
+abruptly, lurching them back into normal space and time. They didn't
+unstrap, but just sat and looked at the dimly distant pattern of
+stars. A single sun, apparently of fifth magnitude, was their only
+neighbor in this lost corner of the universe. They waited while the
+computer took enough star sights to triangulate a position in three
+dimensions, muttering to itself electronically while it did the
+countless calculations to find their position. A warning bell chimed
+and the drive cut on and off so quickly that the two acts seemed
+simultaneous. This happened again, twice, before the brain was
+satisfied it had made as good a fix as possible and flashed a
+NAVIGATION POWER OFF light. Ihjel unstrapped, stretched, and made
+them a meal.
+
+Ihjel had computed their passage time with precise allowances. Less
+than ten hours after they arrived a powerful signal blasted into
+their waiting receiver. They strapped in again as the NAVIGATION
+POWER ON signal blinked insistently.
+
+A ship had paused in flight somewhere relatively near in the vast
+volume of space. It had entered normal space just long enough to
+emit a signal of radio query on an assigned wave length. Ihjel's
+ship had detected this and instantly responded with a verifying
+signal. The passenger spacer had accepted this assurance and
+gracefully laid a ten-foot metal egg in space. As soon as this had
+cleared its jump field the parent ship vanished towards its
+destination, light years away.
+
+Ihjel's ship climbed up the signal it had received. This signal had
+been recorded and examined minutely. Angle, strength and Doppler
+movement were computed to find course and distance. A few minutes of
+flight were enough to get within range of the far weaker transmitter
+in the drop-capsule. Homing on this signal was so simple, a human
+pilot could have done it himself. The shining sphere loomed up, then
+vanished out of sight of the viewports as the ship rotated to bring
+the spacelock into line. Magnetic clamps cut in when they made
+contact.
+
+"Go down and let the bug-doctor in," Ihjel said. "I'll stay and
+monitor the board in case of trouble."
+
+"What do I have to do?"
+
+"Get into a suit and open the outer lock. Most of the drop sphere is
+made of inflatable metallic foil, so don't bother to look for the
+entrance. Just cut a hole in it with the oversize can-opener you'll
+find in the tool box. After Dr. Morees gets aboard jettison the
+thing. Only get the radio and locator unit out first--it gets used
+again."
+
+The tool did look like a giant can-opener. Brion carefully felt the
+resilient metal skin that covered the lock entrance, until he was
+sure there was nothing on the other side. Then he jabbed the point
+through and cut a ragged hole in the thin foil. Dr. Morees boiled
+out of the sphere, knocking Brion aside.
+
+"What's the matter?" Brion asked.
+
+There was no radio on the other's suit; he couldn't answer. But he
+did shake his fist angrily. The helmet ports were opaque, so there
+was no way to tell what expressions went with the gesture. Brion
+shrugged and turned back to salvaging the equipment pack, pushing
+the punctured balloon free and sealing the lock. When pressure was
+pumped back to ship-normal, he cracked his helmet and motioned the
+other to do the same.
+
+"You're a pack of dirty lying dogs!" Dr. Morees said when the helmet
+came off. Brion was completely baffled. Dr. Lea Morees had long dark
+hair, large eyes, and a delicately shaped mouth now taut with anger.
+Dr. Morees was a woman.
+
+"Are you the filthy swine responsible for this atrocity?" Dr. Morees
+asked menacingly.
+
+"In the control room," Brion said quickly, knowing when cowardice
+was preferable to valor. "A man named Ihjel. There's a lot of him
+to hate, you can have a good time doing it. I just joined up
+myself...." He was talking to her back as she stormed from the room.
+Brion hurried after her, not wanting to miss the first human spark
+of interest in the trip to date.
+
+"Kidnapped! Lied to, and forced against my will! There is no court
+in the galaxy that won't give you the maximum sentence, and I'll
+scream with pleasure as they roll your fat body into solitary--"
+
+"They shouldn't have sent a woman," Ihjel said, completely ignoring
+her words. "I asked for a highly qualified exobiologist for a
+difficult assignment. Someone young and tough enough to do field
+work under severe conditions. So the recruiting office sends me the
+smallest female they can find, one who'll melt in the first rain."
+
+"I will not!" Lea shouted. "Female resiliency is a well-known fact,
+and I'm in far better condition than the average woman. Which has
+nothing to do with what I'm telling you. I was hired for a job in
+the university on Moller's World and signed a contract to that
+effect. Then this bully of an agent tells me the contract has been
+changed--read subparagraph 189-C or some such nonsense--and I'll be
+transhipping. He stuffed me into that suffocating basketball without
+a by-your-leave and they threw me overboard. If that is not a
+violation of personal privacy--"
+
+"Cut a new course, Brion," Ihjel broke in. "Find the nearest settled
+planet and head us there. We have to drop this woman and find a man
+for this job. We are going to what is undoubtedly the most
+interesting planet an exobiologist ever conceived of, but we need
+a man who can take orders and not faint when it gets too hot."
+
+Brion was lost. Ihjel had done all the navigating and Brion had no
+idea how to begin a search like this.
+
+"Oh, no you don't," Lea said. "You don't get rid of me that easily.
+I placed first in my class, and most of the five hundred other
+students were male. This is only a man's universe because the men
+say so. What is the name of this garden planet where we are going?"
+
+"Dis. I'll give you a briefing as soon as I get this ship on
+course." He turned to the controls and Lea slipped out of her suit
+and went into the lavatory to comb her hair. Brion closed his mouth,
+aware suddenly it had been open for a long time. "Is that what you
+call applied psychology?" he asked.
+
+"Not really. She was going to go along with the job in the
+end--since she did sign the contract even if she didn't read the
+fine print--but not until she had exhausted her feelings. I just
+shortened the process by switching her onto the male-superiority
+hate. Most women who succeed in normally masculine fields have a
+reflexive antipathy there; they have been hit on the head with it
+so much."
+
+He fed the course tape into the console and scowled. "But there was
+a good chunk of truth in what I said. I wanted a young, fit and
+highly qualified biologist from recruiting. I never thought they
+would find a female one--and it's too late to send her back now.
+Dis is no place for a woman."
+
+"Why?" Brion asked, as Lea appeared in the doorway.
+
+"Come inside, and I'll show you both," Ihjel said.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+"Dis," Ihjel said, consulting a thick file, "third planet out from
+its primary, Epsilon Eridani. The fourth planet is Nyjord--remember
+that, because it is going to be very important. Dis is a place you
+need a good reason to visit and no reason at all to leave. Too hot,
+too dry; the temperature in the temperate zones rarely drops below
+a hundred Fahrenheit. The planet is nothing but scorched rock and
+burning sand. Most of the water is underground and normally
+inaccessible. The surface water is all in the form of briny,
+chemically saturated swamps--undrinkable without extensive
+processing. All the facts and figures are here in the folder and
+you can study them later. Right now I want you just to get the idea
+that this planet is as loathsome and inhospitable as they come. So
+are the people. This is a solido of a Disan."
+
+Lea gasped at the three-dimensional representation on the screen.
+Not at the physical aspects of the man; as a biologist trained in
+the specialty of alien life she had seen a lot stranger sights.
+It was the man's pose, the expression on his face--tensed to leap,
+his lips drawn back to show all of this teeth.
+
+"He looks as if he wanted to kill the photographer," she said.
+
+"He almost did--just after the picture was taken. Like all Disans,
+he has an overwhelming hatred and loathing of offworlders. Not
+without good reason, though. His planet was settled completely by
+chance during the Breakdown. I'm not sure of the details, but the
+overall picture is clear, since the story of their desertion forms
+the basis of all the myths and animistic religions on Dis.
+
+"Apparently there were large-scale mining operations carried on
+there once; the world is rich enough in minerals and mining them
+is very simple. But water came only from expensive extraction
+processes and I imagine most of the food came from offworld. Which
+was good enough until the settlement was forgotten, the way a lot
+of other planets were during the Breakdown. All the records were
+destroyed in the fighting, and the ore carriers were pressed into
+military service. Dis was on its own. What happened to the people
+there is a tribute to the adaptation possibilities of homo sapiens.
+Individuals died, usually in enormous pain, but the race lived.
+Changed a good deal, but still human. As the water and food ran out
+and the extraction machinery broke down, they must have made heroic
+efforts to survive. They couldn't do it mechanically, but by the
+time the last machine collapsed, enough people were adjusted to
+the environment to keep the race going.
+
+"Their descendants are still there, completely adapted to the
+environment. Their body temperatures are around a hundred and thirty
+degrees. They have specialized tissue in the gluteal area for
+storing water. These are minor changes, compared to the major ones
+they have done in fitting themselves for this planet. I don't know
+the exact details, but the reports are very enthusiastic about
+symbiotic relationships. They assure us that this is the first time
+homo sapiens has been an active part of either commensalism or
+inquilinism other than in the role of host."
+
+"Wonderful!" Lea exclaimed.
+
+"Is it?" Ihjel scowled. "Perhaps from the abstract scientific point
+of view. If you can keep notes perhaps you might write a book about
+it some time. But I'm not interested. I'm sure all these
+morphological changes and disgusting intimacies will fascinate you,
+Dr. Morees. But while you are counting blood types and admiring your
+thermometers, I hope you will be able to devote a little time to a
+study of the Disans' obnoxious personalities. We must either find
+out what makes these people tick--or we are going to have to stand
+by and watch the whole lot blown up!"
+
+"Going to do what!" Lea gasped. "Destroy them? Wipe out this
+fascinating genetic pool? Why?
+
+"Because they are so incredibly loathsome, that's why!" Ihjel said.
+"These aboriginal hotheads have managed to lay their hands on some
+primitive cobalt bombs. They want to light the fuse and drop these
+bombs on Nyjord, the next planet. Nothing said or done can convince
+them differently. They demand unconditional surrender, or else. This
+is impossible for a lot of reasons--most important, because the
+Nyjorders would like to keep their planet for their very own. They
+have tried every kind of compromise but none of them works. The
+Disans are out to commit racial suicide. A Nyjord fleet is now over
+Dis and the deadline has almost expired for the surrender of the
+cobalt bombs. The Nyjord ships carry enough H-bombs to turn the
+entire planet into an atomic pile. That is what we must stop."
+
+Brion looked at the solido on the screen, trying to make some
+judgment of the man. Bare, horny feet. A bulky, ragged length of
+cloth around the waist was the only garment. What looked like a
+piece of green vine was hooked over one shoulder. From a plaited
+belt were suspended a number of odd devices made of hand-beaten
+metal, drilled stone and looped leather. The only recognizable item
+was a thin knife of unusual design. Loops of piping, flared bells,
+carved stones tied in senseless patterns of thonging gave the rest
+of the collection a bizarre appearance. Perhaps they had some
+religious significance. But the well-worn and handled look of most
+of them gave Brion an uneasy sensation. If they were used--what in
+the universe could they be used _for_?
+
+"I can't believe it," he finally concluded. "Except for the exotic
+hardware, this lowbrow looks as if he has sunk back into the Stone
+Age. I don't see how his kind can be any real threat to another
+planet."
+
+"The Nyjorders believe it, and that's good enough for me," Ihjel
+said. "They are paying our Cultural Relationships Foundation a good
+sum to try and prevent this war. Since they are our employers, we
+must do what they ask." Brion ignored this large lie, since it was
+obviously designed as an explanation for Lea. But he made a mental
+note to query Ihjel later about the real situation.
+
+"Here are the tech reports." Ihjel dropped them on the table. "Dis
+has some spacers as well as the cobalt bombs--though these aren't
+the real threat. A tramp trader was picked up _leaving_ Dis. It had
+delivered a jump-space launcher that can drop those bombs on Nyjord
+while anchored to the bedrock of Dis. While essentially a peaceful
+and happy people, the Nyjorders were justifiably annoyed at this and
+convinced the tramp's captain to give them some more information.
+It's all here. Boiled down, it gives a minimum deadline by which
+time the launcher can be set up and start throwing bombs."
+
+"When is that deadline?" Lea asked.
+
+"In ten more days. If the situation hasn't been changed drastically
+by then, the Nyjorders are going to wipe all life from the face of
+Dis. I assure you they don't want to do it. But they will drop the
+bombs in order to assure their own survival."
+
+"What am I supposed to do?" Lea asked, flipping the pages of the
+report. "I don't know a thing about nucleonics or jump-space. I'm
+an exobiologist, with a supplementary degree in anthropology. What
+help could I possibly be?"
+
+Ihjel looked down at her, stroking his jaw, fingers sunk deep into
+the rolls of flesh. "My faith in our recruiters is restored," he
+said. "That's a combination that is probably rare--even on Earth.
+You're as scrawny as an underfed chicken, but young enough to
+survive if we keep a close eye on you." He cut off Lea's angry
+protest with a raised hand. "No more bickering. There isn't time.
+The Nyjorders must have lost over thirty agents trying to find the
+bombs. Our foundation has had six people killed--including my late
+predecessor in charge of the project. He was a good man, but I think
+he went at this problem the wrong way. I think it is a cultural one,
+not a physical one."
+
+"Run it through again with the power turned up," Lea said, frowning.
+"All I hear is static."
+
+"It's the old problem of genesis. Like Newton and the falling apple,
+Levy and the hysteresis in the warp field. Everything has a
+beginning. If we can find out why these people are so hell-bent on
+suicide we might be able to change the reasons. Not that I intend
+to stop looking for the bombs or the jump-space generator either.
+We are going to try anything that will avert this planetary murder."
+
+"You're a lot brighter than you look," Lea said, rising and
+carefully stacking the sheets of the report. "You can count on me
+for complete cooperation. Now I'll study all this in bed if one of
+you overweight gentlemen will show me to a room with a strong lock
+on the inside of the door. Don't call me; I'll call you when I want
+breakfast."
+
+Brion wasn't sure how much of her barbed speech was humor and how
+much was serious, so he said nothing. He showed her to an empty
+cabin--she did lock the door--then looked for Ihjel. The Winner was
+in the galley adding to his girth with an immense gelatin dessert
+that filled a good-sized tureen.
+
+"Is she short for a native Terran?" Brion asked. "The top of her
+head is below my chin."
+
+"That's the norm. Earth is a reservoir of tired genes. Weak backs,
+vermiform appendixes, bad eyes. If they didn't have the universities
+and the trained people we need I would never use them."
+
+"Why did you lie to her about the Foundation?"
+
+"Because it's a secret--isn't that reason enough?" Ihjel rumbled
+angrily, scraping the last dregs from the bowl. "Better eat
+something. Build up the strength. The Foundation has to maintain its
+undercover status if it is going to accomplish anything. If she
+returns to Earth after this it's better that she should know nothing
+of our real work. If she joins up, there'll be time enough to tell
+her. But I doubt if she will like the way we operate. Particularly
+since I plan to drop some H-bombs on Dis myself--if we can't turn
+off the war."
+
+"I don't believe it!"
+
+"You heard me correctly. Don't bulge your eyes and look moronic.
+As a last resort I'll drop the bombs myself rather than let the
+Nyjorders do it. That might save them."
+
+"Save them--they'd all be radiated and dead!" Brion's voice rose
+in anger.
+
+"Not the Disans. I want to save the Nyjorders. Stop clenching your
+fists and sit down and have some of this cake. It's delicious. The
+Nyjorders are all that counts here. They have a planet blessed by
+the laws of chance. When Dis was cut off from outside contact, the
+survivors turned into a gang of swampcrawling homicidals. It did the
+opposite for Nyjord. You can survive there just by pulling fruit off
+a tree. The population was small, educated, intelligent. Instead of
+sinking into an eternal siesta they matured into a vitally different
+society. Not mechanical--they weren't even using the wheel when they
+were rediscovered. They became sort of cultural specialists, digging
+deep into the philosophical aspects of interrelationship--the thing
+that machine societies never have had time for. Of course this was
+ready-made for the Cultural Relationships Foundation, and we have
+been working with them ever since. Not guiding so much as protecting
+them from any blows that might destroy this growing idea. But we've
+fallen down on the job. Nonviolence is essential to these
+people--they have vitality without needing destruction. But if they
+are forced to blow up Dis for their own survival--against every one
+of their basic tenets--their philosophy won't endure. Physically
+they'll live on, as just one more dog-eat-dog planet with an A-bomb
+for any of the competition who drop behind."
+
+"Sounds like paradise now."
+
+"Don't be smug. It's just another worldful of people with the same
+old likes, dislikes and hatreds. But they are evolving a way of
+living together, without violence, that may some day form the key to
+mankind's survival. They are worth looking after. Now get below and
+study your Disan and read the reports. Get it all pat before we
+land."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+"Identify yourself, please." The quiet words from the speaker in no
+way appeared to coincide with the picture on the screen. The spacer
+that had matched their orbit over Dis had recently been a freighter.
+A quick conversion had tacked the hulking shape of a primary weapons
+turret on top of her hull. The black disc of the immense muzzle
+pointed squarely at them. Ihjel switched open the ship-to-ship
+communication channel.
+
+"This is Ihjel. Retinal pattern 490-BJ4-67--which is also the code
+that is supposed to get me through your blockade. Do you want to
+check that pattern?"
+
+"There will be no need, thank you. If you will turn on your recorder
+I have a message relayed to you from Prime-four."
+
+"Recording and out," Ihjel said. "Damn! Trouble already, and four
+days to blowup. Prime-four is our headquarters on Dis. This ship
+carries a cover cargo so we can land at the spaceport. This is
+probably a change of plan and I don't like the smell of it."
+
+There was something behind Ihjel's grumbling this time, and without
+conscious effort Brion could sense the chilling touch of the other
+man's _angst_. Trouble was waiting for them on the planet below.
+When the message was typed by the decoder Ihjel hovered over it,
+reading each word as it appeared on the paper. When it was finished
+he only snorted and went below to the galley. Brion pulled the
+message out of the machine and read it.
+
+     IHJEL IHJEL IHJEL SPACEPORT LANDING DANGER NIGHT
+     LANDING PREFERABLE COORDINATES MAP 46 J92 MN75
+     REMOTE YOUR SHIP VION WILL MEET END END END
+
+Dropping into the darkness was safe enough. It was done on
+instruments, and the Disans were thought to have no detection
+apparatus. The altimeter dials spun backwards to zero and a soft
+vibration was the only indication they had landed. All of the cabin
+lights were off except for the fluorescent glow of the instruments.
+A white-speckled grey filled the infra-red screen, radiation from
+the still warm sand and stone. There were no moving blips on it,
+not the characteristic shape of a shielded atomic generator.
+
+"We're here first," Ihjel said, opaqueing the ports and turning on
+the cabin lights. They blinked at each other, faces damp with
+perspiration.
+
+"Must you have the ship this hot?" Lea asked, patting her forehead
+with an already sodden kerchief. Stripped of her heavier clothing,
+she looked even tinier to Brion. But the thin cloth tunic--reaching
+barely halfway to her knees--concealed very little. Small she may
+have appeared to him: unfeminine she was not. Her breasts were full
+and high, her waist tiny enough to offset the outward curve of her
+hips.
+
+"Shall I turn around so you can stare at the back too?" she asked
+Brion. Five days' experience had taught him that this type of remark
+was best ignored. It only became worse if he tried to make an
+intelligent answer.
+
+"Dis is hotter than this cabin," he said, changing the subject.
+"By raising the interior temperature we can at least prevent any
+sudden shock when we go out--"
+
+"I know the theory--but it doesn't stop me from sweating," she said
+curtly.
+
+"Best thing you can do is sweat." Ihjel said. He looked like a
+glistening captive balloon in shorts. Finishing a bottle of beer,
+he took another from the freezer. "Have a beer."
+
+"No, thank you. I'm afraid it would dissolve the last shreds of
+tissue and my kidneys would float completely away. On Earth we
+never--"
+
+"Get Professor Morees' luggage for her," Ihjel interrupted. "Vion's
+coming, there's his signal. I'm sending this ship up before any of
+the locals spot it."
+
+When he cracked the outer port the puff of air struck them like the
+exhaust from a furnace, dry and hot as a tongue of flame. Brion
+heard Lea's gasp in the darkness. She stumbled down the ramp and he
+followed her slowly, careful of the weight of packs and equipment he
+carried. The sand, still hot from the day, burned through his boots.
+Ihjel came last, the remote-control unit in his hand. As soon as
+they were clear he activated it and the ramp slipped back like a
+giant tongue. As soon as the lock had swung shut, the ship lifted
+and drifted upwards silently towards its orbit, a shrinking darkness
+against the stars.
+
+There was just enough starlight to see the sandy wastes around them,
+as wave-filled as a petrified sea. The dark shape of a sand car drew
+up over a dune and hummed to a stop. When the door opened Ihjel
+stepped towards it and everything happened at once.
+
+Ihjel broke into a blue nimbus of crackling flame, his skin
+blackening, charred. He was dead in an instant. A second pillar of
+flame bloomed next to the car, and a choking scream was cut off at
+the moment it began. Ihjel died silently.
+
+Brion was diving even as the electrical discharges still crackled in
+the air. The boxes and packs dropped from him and he slammed against
+Lea, knocking her to the ground. He hoped she had the sense to stay
+there and be quiet. This was his only conscious thought, the rest
+was reflex. He was rolling over and over as fast as he could.
+
+The spitting electrical flames flared again, playing over the
+bundles of luggage he had dropped. This time Brion was expecting it,
+pressed flat on the ground a short distance away. He was facing the
+darkness away from the sand car and saw the brief, blue glow of the
+ion-rifle discharge. His own gun was in his hand. When Ihjel had
+given him the missile weapon he had asked no questions, but had just
+strapped it on. There had been no thought that he would need it this
+quickly. Holding it firmly before him in both hands, he let his
+body aim at the spot where the glow had been. A whiplash of
+explosive slugs ripped the night air. They found their target and
+something thrashed voicelessly and died.
+
+In the brief instant after he fired, a jarring weight landed on his
+back and a line of fire circled his throat. Normally he fought with
+a calm mind, with no thoughts other than of the contest. But Ihjel,
+a friend, a man of Anvhar, had died a few seconds before, and Brion
+found himself welcoming this physical violence and pain.
+
+There are many foolish and dangerous things that can be done, such
+as smoking next to high-octane fuel and putting fingers into
+electrical sockets. Just as dangerous, and equally deadly, is
+physically attacking a Winner of the Twenties.
+
+Two men hit Brion together, though this made very little difference.
+The first died suddenly as hands like steel claws found his neck and
+in a single spasmodic contraction did such damage to the large blood
+vessels there that they burst and tiny hemorrhages filled his brain.
+The second man had time for a single scream, though he died just as
+swiftly when those hands closed on his larynx.
+
+Running in a crouch, partially on his knuckles, Brion swiftly made
+a circle of the area, gun ready. There were no others. Only when
+he touched the softness of Lea's body did the blood anger seep from
+him. He was suddenly aware of the pain and fatigue, the sweat
+soaking his body and the breath rasping in his throat. Holstering
+the gun, he ran light fingers over her skull, finding a bruised spot
+on one temple. Her chest was rising and falling regularly. She had
+struck her head when he pushed her. It had undoubtedly saved her
+life.
+
+Sitting down suddenly, he let his body relax, breathing deeply.
+Everything was a little better now, except for the pain at his
+throat. His fingers found a thin strand on the side of his neck with
+a knobby weight on the end. There was another weight on his other
+shoulder and a thin line of pain across his neck. When he pulled on
+them both, the strangler's cord came away in his hand. It was thin
+fiber, strong as a wire. When it had been pulled around his neck it
+had sliced the surface skin and flesh like a knife, halted only by
+the corded bands of muscle below. Brion threw it from him, into the
+darkness where it had come from.
+
+He could think again, and he carefully kept his thoughts from the
+men he had killed. Knowing it was useless, he went to Ihjel's body.
+A single touch of the scorched flesh was enough. Behind him Lea
+moaned with returning consciousness and he hurried on to the sand
+car, stepping over the charred body outside the door. The driver
+slumped, dead, killed perhaps by the same strangling cord that had
+sunk into Brion's throat. He laid the man gently on the sand and
+closed the lids over the staring horror of the eyes. There was a
+canteen in the car and he brought it back to Lea.
+
+"My head--I've hurt my head," she said groggily.
+
+"Just a bruise," he reassured her. "Drink some of this water and
+you'll soon feel better. Lie back. Everything's over for the moment
+and you can rest."
+
+"Ihjel's dead!" Lea said with sudden shocked memory. "They've killed
+him! What's happened?" she tensed, tried to rise, and he pressed her
+back gently.
+
+"I'll tell you everything. Just don't try to get up yet. There was
+an ambush and they killed Vion and the driver of the sand car, as
+well as Ihjel. Three men did it and they're all dead now too. I
+don't think there are any more around, but if there are I'll hear
+them coming. We're just going to wait a few minutes until you feel
+better, then we're getting out of here in the car."
+
+"Bring the ship down!" There was a thin note of hysteria in her
+voice. "We can't stay here alone. We don't know where to go or what
+to do. With Ihjel dead, the whole thing's spoiled. We have to get
+out...."
+
+There are some things that can't sound gentle, no matter how gently
+they are said. This was one of them. "I'm sorry, Lea, but the ship
+is out of our reach right now. Ihjel was killed with an ion gun and
+it fused the control unit into a solid lump. We must take the car
+and get to the city. We'll do it now. See if you can stand up--I'll
+help you."
+
+She rose, not saying anything, and as they walked towards the car
+a single, reddish moon cleared the hills behind them. In its light
+Brion saw a dark line bisecting the rear panel of the sand car. He
+stopped abruptly. "What's the matter?" Lea asked.
+
+The unlocked engine cover could have only one significance and he
+pushed it open, knowing in advance what he would see. The attackers
+had been very thorough and fast. In the short time available to them
+they had killed the driver and the car as well. Ruddy light shone on
+torn wires, ripped out connections. Repair would be impossible.
+
+"I think we'll have to walk," he told her, trying to keep the gloom
+out of his voice. "This spot is roughly a hundred and fifty
+kilometres from the city of Hovedstad, where we have to go.
+We should be able to--"
+
+"We're going to die. We can't walk anywhere. This whole planet is a
+death trap. Let's get back in the ship!" The shrillness of hysteria
+was at the edge of her voice, as well as a subtle slurring of
+sounds.
+
+Brion didn't try to reason with her or bother to explain. She had a
+concussion from the blow, that much was obvious. He had her sit and
+rest while he made what preparations he could for the long walk.
+
+Clothing first. With each passing minute the desert air was growing
+colder as the day's heat ebbed away. Lea was beginning to shiver,
+and he took some heavier clothing from her charred bag and made her
+pull it on over her light tunic. There was little else that was
+worth carrying--the canteen from the car and a first-aid kit he
+found in one of the compartments. There were no maps and no radio.
+Navigation was obviously done by compass on this almost featureless
+desert. The car was equipped with an electrically operated
+gyrocompass, of no use to him now. But he did use it to check the
+direction of Hovedstad, as he remembered it from the map, and found
+it lined up perfectly with the tracks the car had cut into the
+sand. It had come directly from the city. They could find their way
+by back-tracking.
+
+Time was slipping away. He would have liked to bury Ihjel and the
+men from the car, but the night hours were too valuable to be
+wasted. The best he could do was put the three corpses in the car,
+for protection from the Disan animals. He locked the door and threw
+the key as far as he could into the blackness. Lea had slipped into
+a restless sleep and he carefully shook her awake.
+
+"Come," Brion said. "We have a little walking to do."
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+With the cool air and firmly packed sand under foot, walking should
+have been easy. Lea spoiled that. The concussion seemed to have
+temporarily cut off the reasoning part of her brain, leaving a
+direct connection to her vocal cords. As she stumbled along, only
+half conscious, she mumbled all of her darkest fears that were
+better left unvoiced. Occasionally there was relevancy in her
+complaints. They would lose their way, never find the city, die of
+thirst, freezing, heat or hunger. Interspersed and entwined with
+these were fears from her past that still floated, submerged in the
+timeless ocean of her subconscious. Some Brion could understand,
+though he tried not to listen. Fears of losing credits, not getting
+the highest grade, falling behind, a woman alone in a world of men,
+leaving school, being lost, trampled among the nameless hordes that
+struggled for survival in the crowded city-states of Earth.
+
+There were other things she was afraid of that made no sense to a
+man of Anvhar. Who were the alkians that seemed to trouble her? Or
+what was canceri? Daydle and haydle? Who was Manstan, whose name
+kept coming up, over and over, each time accompanied by a little
+moan?
+
+Brion stopped and picked her up in both arms. With a sigh she
+settled against the hard width of his chest and was instantly
+asleep. Even with the additional weight he made better time now, and
+he stretched to his fastest, kilometre-consuming stride to make good
+use of these best hours.
+
+Somewhere on a stretch of gravel and shelving rock he lost the track
+of the sand car. He wasted no time looking for it. By carefully
+watching the glistening stars rise and set he had made a good
+estimate of the geographic north. Dis didn't seem to have a pole
+star; however, a boxlike constellation turned slowly around the
+invisible point of the pole. Keeping this positioned in line with
+his right shoulder guided him on the westerly course he needed.
+
+When his arms began to grow tired he lowered Lea gently to the
+ground; she didn't wake. Stretching for an instant, before taking up
+his burden again, Brion was struck by the terrible loneliness of the
+desert. His breath made a vanishing mist against the stars; all else
+was darkness and silence. How distant he was from his home, his
+people, his planet! Even the constellations of the night sky were
+different. He was used to solitude, but this was a loneliness that
+touched some deep-buried instinct. A shiver that wasn't from the
+desert cold touched lightly along his spine, prickling at the hairs
+on his neck.
+
+It was time to go on. He shrugged the disquieting sensations off and
+carefully tied Lea into the jacket he had been wearing. Slung like a
+pack on his back, it made the walking easier. The gravel gave way to
+sliding dunes of sand that seemed to continue to infinity. It was a
+painful, slipping climb to the top of each one, then an equally
+difficult descent to the black-pooled hollow at the foot of the
+next.
+
+With the first lightening of the sky in the east he stopped, breath
+rasping in his chest, to mark his direction before the stars faded.
+One line scratched in the sand pointed due north, a second pointed
+out the course they should follow. When they were aligned to his
+satisfaction he washed his mouth out with a single swallow of water
+and sat on the sand next to the still form of the girl.
+
+Gold fingers of fire searched across the sky, wiping out the stars.
+It was magnificent; Brion forgot his fatigue in appreciation. There
+should be some way of preserving it. A quatrain would be best. Short
+enough to be remembered, yet requiring attention and skill to
+compact everything into it. He had scored high with his quatrains in
+the Twenties. This would be a special one. Taind, his poetry mentor,
+would have to get a copy.
+
+"What are you mumbling about?" Lea asked, looking up at the craggy
+blackness of his profile against the reddening sky.
+
+"Poem," he said. "Shhh. Just a minute."
+
+It was too much for Lea, coming after the tension and dangers of the
+night. She began to laugh, laughing even harder when he scowled at
+her. Only when she heard the tinge of growing hysteria did she make
+an attempt to break off the laughter. The sun cleared the horizon,
+washing a sudden warmth over them. Lea gasped.
+
+"Your throat's been cut! You're bleeding to death!"
+
+"Not really," he said, touching his fingertips lightly against the
+blood-clotted wound that circled his neck. "Just superficial."
+
+Depression sat on him as he suddenly remembered the battle and death
+of the previous night. Lea didn't notice his face; she was busy
+digging in the pack he had thrown down. He had to use his fingers to
+massage and force away the grimace of pain that twisted his mouth.
+Memory was more painful than the wound. How easily he had killed!
+Three men. How close to the surface of the civilized man the animal
+dwelled! In countless matches he had used those holds, always
+drawing back from the exertion of the full killing power. They were
+part of a game, part of the Twenties. Yet when his friend had been
+killed he had become a killer himself. He believed in nonviolence
+and the sanctity of life--until the first test, when he had killed
+without hesitation. More ironic was the fact he really felt no
+guilt, even now. Shock at the change, yes. But no more than that.
+
+"Lift your chin," Lea said, brandishing the antiseptic applicator
+she had found in the medicine kit. He lifted his chin obligingly and
+the liquid drew a cool, burning line across his neck. Antibio pills
+would do a lot more good, since the wound was completely clotted by
+now, but he didn't speak his thoughts aloud. For the moment Lea had
+forgotten herself in taking care of him. He put some of the
+antiseptic on her scalp bruise and she squeaked, pulling back.
+They both swallowed the pills.
+
+"That sun is hot already," Lea said, peeling off her heavy
+clothing. "Let's find a nice cool cave or an air-cooled saloon
+to crawl into for the day."
+
+"I don't think there are any here. Just sand. We have to walk--"
+
+"I know we have to walk," she interrupted. "There's no need for a
+lecture about it. You're as seriously cubical as the Bank of Terra.
+Relax. Count ten and start again." Lea was making empty talk while
+she listened to the memory of hysteria tittering at the fringes of
+her brain.
+
+"No time for that. We have to keep going." Brion climbed slowly to
+his feet after stowing everything in the pack. When he sighted along
+his marker at the western horizon he saw nothing to mark their
+course, only the marching dunes. He helped Lea to her feet and began
+walking slowly towards them.
+
+"Just hold on a second," Lea called after him. "Where do you think
+you're going?"
+
+"In that direction," he said, pointing. "I hoped there would be
+some landmarks, but there aren't. We'll have to keep on by dead
+reckoning. The sun will keep us pretty well on course. If we aren't
+there by night the stars will be a better guide."
+
+"All this on an empty stomach? How about breakfast? I'm hungry--and
+thirsty."
+
+"No food." He shook the canteen that gurgled emptily. It had been
+only partly filled when he found it. "The water's low and we'll need
+it later."
+
+"I need it now," she said shortly. "My mouth tastes like an
+unemptied ashtray and I'm dry as paper."
+
+"Just a single swallow," he said after the briefest hesitation.
+"This is all we have."
+
+Lea sipped at it with her eyes closed in appreciation. Then he
+sealed the top and returned it to the pack without taking any
+himself. They were sweating as they started up the first dune.
+
+The desert was barren of life; they were the only things moving
+under that merciless sun. Their shadows pointed the way ahead of
+them, and as the shadows shortened the heat rose. It had an
+intensity Lea had never experienced before, a physical weight that
+pushed at her with a searing hand. Her clothing was sodden with
+perspiration, and it trickled burning into her eyes. The light and
+heat made it hard to see, and she leaned on the immovable strength
+of Brion's arm. He walked on steadily, apparently ignoring the heat
+and discomfort.
+
+"I wonder if those things are edible--or store water?" Brion's voice
+was a harsh rasp. Lea blinked and squinted at the leathery shape on
+the summit of the dune. Plant or animal, it was hard to tell. It was
+the size of a man's head, wrinkled and grey as dried-out leather,
+knobbed with thick spikes. Brion pushed it up with his toe and they
+had a brief glimpse of a white roundness, like a shiny taproot,
+going down into the dune. Then the thing contracted, pulling itself
+lower into the sand. At the same instant something thin and sharp
+lashed out through a fold in the skin, striking at Brion's boot and
+withdrawing. There was a scratch on the hard plastic, beaded with
+drops of green liquid.
+
+"Probably poison," he said, digging his toe into the sand. "This
+thing is too mean to fool with--without a good reason. Let's keep
+going."
+
+It was before noon when Lea fell down. She really wanted to go on,
+but her body wouldn't obey. The thin soles of her shoes were no
+protection against the burning sand and her feet were lumps of raw
+pain. Heat hammered down, poured up from the sand and swirled her in
+an oven of pain. The air she gasped in was molten metal that dried
+and cracked her mouth. Each pulse of her heart throbbed blood to the
+wound in her scalp until it seemed her skull would burst with the
+agony. She had stripped down to the short tunic--in spite of Brion's
+insistence that she keep her body protected from the sun--and that
+clung to her, soaked with sweat. She tore at it in a desperate
+effort to breathe. There was no escape from the unending heat.
+
+Though the baked sand burned torture into her knees and hands,
+she couldn't rise. It took all her strength not to fall further.
+Her eyes closed and everything swirled in immense circles.
+
+Brion, blinking through slitted eyes, saw her go down. He lifted
+her, and carried her again as he had the night before. The hot touch
+of her body shocked his bare arms. Her skin was flushed pink. The
+tunic was torn open and one pointed breast rose and fell unevenly
+with the irregularity of her breathing. Wiping his palm free of
+sweat and sand, he touched her skin and felt the ominous hot
+dryness.
+
+Heat-shock, all the symptoms. Dry, flushed skin, the ragged
+breathing. Her temperature rising quickly as her body stopped
+fighting the heat and succumbed.
+
+There was nothing he could do here to protect her from the heat. He
+measured a tiny portion of the remaining water into her mouth and
+she swallowed convulsively. Her thin clothing was little protection
+from the sun. He could only take her in his arms and keep on towards
+the horizon. An outcropping of rock threw a tiny patch of shade and
+he walked towards it.
+
+The ground here, shielded from the direct rays of the sun, felt
+almost cool by contrast. Lea opened her eyes when he put her down,
+peering up at him through a haze of pain. She wanted to apologize to
+him for her weakness, but no words came from the dried membrane of
+her throat. His body above her seemed to swim back and forth in the
+heat waves, swaying like a tree in a high wind.
+
+Shock drove her eyes open, cleared her mind for an instant. He
+really was swaying. Suddenly she realized how much she had come to
+depend on the unending solidity of his strength--and now it was
+failing. All over his body the corded muscles contracted in ridges,
+striving to keep him erect. She saw his mouth pulled open by the
+taut cords of his neck, and the gaping, silent scream was more
+terrible than any sound. Then she herself screamed as his eyes
+rolled back, leaving only the empty white of the eyeballs staring
+terribly at her. He went over, back, down, like a felled tree,
+thudding heavily on the sand. Unconscious or dead, she couldn't
+tell. She pulled limply at his leg, but couldn't drag his immense
+weight into the shade.
+
+Brion lay on his back in the sun, sweating. Lea saw this and knew
+that he was still alive. Yet what was happening? She groped for
+memory in the red haze of her mind, but could remember nothing from
+her medical studies that would explain this. On every square inch of
+his body the sweat glands seethed with sudden activity. From every
+pore oozed great globules of oily liquid, far thicker than normal
+perspiration. Brion's arms rippled with motion and Lea gaped,
+horrified as the hairs there writhed and stirred as though endowed
+with separate life. His chest rose and fell rapidly, deep, gasping
+breaths racking his body. Lea could only stare through the dim
+redness of unreality and wonder if she was going mad before she
+died.
+
+A coughing fit broke the rhythm of his rasping breath, and when it
+was over his breathing was easier. The perspiration still covered
+his body, the individual beads touching and forming tiny streams
+that trickled down his body and vanished in the sand. He stirred and
+rolled onto his side, facing her. His eyes were open and normal now
+as he smiled.
+
+"Didn't mean to frighten you. It caught me suddenly coming at the
+wrong season and everything. It was a bit of a jar to my system.
+I'll get you some water now--there's still a bit left."
+
+"What happened? When you looked like that, when you fell...."
+
+"Take two swallows, no more," he said, holding the open canteen to
+her mouth. "Just summer change, that's all. It happens to us every
+year on Anvhar--only not that violently, of course. In the winter
+our bodies store a layer of fat under the skin for insulation, and
+sweating almost ceases completely. There are a lot of internal
+changes too. When the weather warms up the process is reversed. The
+fat is metabolized and the sweat glands enlarge and begin working
+overtime as the body prepares for two months of hard work, heat and
+little sleep. I guess the heat here triggered off the summer change
+early."
+
+"You mean--you've adapted to this terrible planet?"
+
+"Just about. Though it does feel a little warm. I'll need a lot
+more water soon, so we can't remain here. Do you think you can stand
+the sun if I carry you?"
+
+"No, but I won't feel any better staying here." She was
+light-headed, scarcely aware of what she said. "Keep going, I guess.
+Keep going."
+
+As soon as she was out of the shadow of the rock the sunlight burst
+over her again in a wave of hot pain. She fell unconscious at once.
+Brion picked her up and staggered forward. After a few yards, he
+began to feel the pull of the sand. He knew he was reaching the end
+of his strength. He went more slowly and each dune seemed a bit
+higher than the one before. Giant, sand-scoured rocks pushed through
+the dunes here and he had to stumble around them. At the base of
+the largest of these monoliths was a straggling clump of knotted
+vegetation. He passed it by--then stopped as something tried to
+penetrate his heat-crazed mind. What was it? A difference. Something
+about these plants that he hadn't noticed in any of the others
+he had passed during the day.
+
+It was almost like defeat to turn and push his clumsy feet backwards
+in his own footprints; to stand blinking helplessly at the plants.
+Yet they were important. Some of them had been cut off close to the
+sand. Not broken by any natural cause, but cut sharply and squarely
+by a knife or blade of some sort. The cut plants were long dried and
+dead, but a tiny hope flared up in him. This was the first sign that
+other people were actually alive on this heat-blasted planet. And
+whatever the plants had been cut for, they might be of aid to him.
+Food--perhaps drink. His hands trembled at the thought as he dropped
+Lea heavily into the shade of the rock. She didn't stir.
+
+His knife was sharp, but most of the strength was gone from his
+hands. Breath rasping in his dried throat, he sawed at the tough
+stem, finally cutting it through. Raising up the shrub, he saw
+a thick liquid dripping from the severed end. He braced his hand
+against his leg, so it wouldn't shake and spill, until his cupped
+palm was full of sap.
+
+It was wet, even a little cool as it evaporated. Surely it was
+mostly life-giving water. He had a moment's misgiving as he raised
+it to his lips, and instead of drinking it merely touched it with
+the tip of his tongue.
+
+At first nothing--then a searing pain. It stabbed deep into his
+throat and choked him. His stomach heaved and he vomited bitter
+bile. On his knees, fighting the waves of pain, he lost body fluid
+he vitally needed.
+
+Despair was worse than the pain. The plant juice must have some use;
+there must be a way of purifying it or neutralizing it. But Brion,
+a stranger on this planet, would be dead long before he found out
+how to do this.
+
+Weakened by the cramps that still tore at him, he tried not to
+realize how close to the end he was. Getting the girl on his back
+seemed an impossible task, and for an instant he was tempted to
+leave her there. Yet even as he considered this he shouldered her
+leaden weight and once more went on. Each footstep an effort, he
+followed his own track up the dune. Painfully he forced his way
+to the top, and looked at the Disan standing a few feet away.
+
+They were both too surprised by the sudden encounter to react at
+once. For a breath of time they stared at each other, unmoving. When
+they reacted it was the same defense of fear. Brion dropped the
+girl, bringing the gun up from the holster in the return of the same
+motion. The Disan jerked a belled tube from his waistband and raised
+it to his mouth.
+
+Brion didn't fire. A dead man had taught him how to train his
+empathetic sense, and to trust it. In spite of the fear that wanted
+him to jerk the trigger, a different sense read the unvoiced
+emotions of the native Disan. There was fear there, and hatred.
+Welling up around these was a strong desire not to commit violence,
+this time, to communicate instead. Brion felt and recognized all
+this in a fraction of a second. He had to act instantly to avoid a
+tragic happening. A jerk of his wrist threw the gun to one side.
+
+As soon as it was gone he regretted its loss. He was gambling their
+lives on an ability he still was not sure of. The Disan had the
+tube to his mouth when the gun hit the ground. He held the pose,
+unmoving, thinking. Then he accepted Brion's action and thrust the
+tube back into his waistband.
+
+"Do you have any water?" Brion asked, the guttural Disan words
+hurting his throat.
+
+"I have water," the man said. He still didn't move. "Who are you?
+What are you doing here?"
+
+"We're from offplanet. We had ... an accident. We want to go
+to the city. The water."
+
+The Disan looked at the unconscious girl and made his decision. Over
+one shoulder he wore one of the green objects that Brion remembered
+from the solido. He pulled it off and the thing writhed slowly in
+his hands. It was alive--a green length a metre long, like a noduled
+section of a thick vine. One end flared out into a petal-like
+formation. The Disan took a hook-shaped object from his waist and
+thrust it into the petaled orifice. When he turned the hook in a
+quick motion the length of green writhed and curled around his arm.
+He pulled something small and dark out and threw it to the ground,
+extending the twisting green shape towards Brion. "Put your mouth to
+the end and drink," he said.
+
+Lea needed the water more, but he drank first, suspicious of the
+living water source. A hollow below the writhing petals was filling
+with straw-colored water from the fibrous, reedy interior. He raised
+it to his mouth and drank. The water was hot and tasted swampy.
+Sudden sharp pains around his mouth made him jerk the thing away.
+Tiny glistening white barbs projected from the petals pink-tipped
+now with his blood. Brion swung towards the Disan angrily--and
+stopped when he looked at the other man's face. His mouth was
+surrounded by many small white scars.
+
+"The _vaede_ does not like to give up its water, but it always
+does," the man said.
+
+Brion drank again, then put the vaede to Lea's mouth. She moaned
+without regaining consciousness, her lips seeking reflexively for
+the life-saving liquid. When she was satisfied Brion gently drew the
+barbs from her flesh and drank again. The Disan hunkered down on
+his heels and watched them expressionlessly. Brion handed back the
+vaede, then held some of the clothes so that Lea was in their shade.
+He settled to the same position as the native and looked closely
+at him.
+
+Squatting immobile on his heels, the Disan appeared perfectly
+comfortable under the flaming sun. There was no trace of
+perspiration on his naked, browned skin. Long hair fell to his
+shoulders, and startlingly blue eyes stared back at Brion from
+deepset sockets. The heavy kilt around his loins was the only
+garment he wore. Once more the vaede rested over his shoulder, still
+stirring unhappily. Around his waist was the same collection of
+leather, stone and brass objects that had been in the solido. Two of
+them now had meaning to Brion: the tube-and-mouthpiece, a blowgun of
+some kind; and the specially shaped hook for opening the vaede. He
+wondered if the other strangely formed things had equally practical
+functions. If you accepted them as artifacts with a purpose--not
+barbaric decorations--you had to accept their owner as something
+more than the crude savage he resembled.
+
+"My name is Brion. And you--"
+
+"You may not have my name. Why are you here? To kill my people?"
+
+Brion forced away the memory of last night. Killing was just what he
+had done. Some expectancy in the man's manner, some sensed feeling
+of hope prompted Brion to speak the truth.
+
+"I'm here to stop your people from being killed. I believe in the
+end of the war."
+
+"Prove it."
+
+"Take me to the Cultural Relationships Foundations in the city and
+I'll prove it. I can do nothing here in the desert. Except die."
+
+For the first time there was emotion on the Disan's face. He frowned
+and muttered something to himself. There was a fine beading of sweat
+above his eyebrows now as he fought an internal battle. Coming to a
+decision, he rose, and Brion stood too.
+
+"Come with me. I'll take you to Hovedstad. But first you will tell
+me--are you from Nyjord?"
+
+"No."
+
+The nameless Disan merely grunted and turned away. Brion shouldered
+Lea's unconscious body and followed him. They walked for two hours,
+the Disan setting a cruel pace, before they reached a wasteland of
+jumbled rock. The native pointed to the highest tower of sand-eroded
+stone. "Wait near this," he said. "Someone will come for you." He
+watched while Brion placed the girl's still body in the shade, and
+passed over the vaede for the last time. Just before leaving he
+turned back, hesitating.
+
+"My name is ... Ulv," he said. Then he was gone.
+
+Brion did what he could to make Lea comfortable, but it was very
+little. If she didn't get medical attention soon she would be dead.
+Dehydration and shock were uniting to destroy her.
+
+Just before sunset he heard clanking, and the throbbing whine of
+a sand car's engine coming from the west.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+With each second the noise grew louder, coming their way. The tracks
+squeaked as the car turned around the rock spire, obviously seeking
+them out. A large carrier, big as a truck, it stopped before them in
+a cloud of its own dust and the driver kicked the door open.
+
+"Get in here--and fast!" the man shouted. "You're letting in all the
+heat." He gunned the engine, ready to kick in the gears, and looked
+at them irritatedly.
+
+Ignoring the driver's nervous instructions, Brion carefully placed
+Lea on the rear seat before he pulled the door shut. The car surged
+forward instantly, a blast of icy air pouring from the air-cooling
+vents. It wasn't cold in the vehicle--but the temperature was at
+least forty degrees lower than the outer air. Brion covered Lea with
+all their extra clothing to prevent any further shock to her system.
+The driver, hunched over the wheel and driving with an intense
+speed, hadn't said a word to them since they had entered.
+
+Brion looked up as another man stepped from the engine compartment
+in the rear of the car. He was thin, harried-looking. And he was
+pointing a gun.
+
+"Who are you?" he said, without a trace of warmth in his voice.
+
+It was a strange reception, but Brion was beginning to realize that
+Dis was a strange planet. The other man chewed at his lip nervously
+while Brion sat, relaxed and unmoving. He didn't want to startle him
+into pulling the trigger, and he kept his voice pitched low as he
+answered.
+
+"My name is Brandd. We landed from space two nights ago and have
+been walking in the desert ever since. Now don't get excited and
+shoot the gun when I tell you this--but both Vion and Ihjel are
+dead."
+
+The man with the gun gasped, his eyes widened. The driver threw a
+single frightened look over his shoulder, then turned quickly back
+to the wheel. Brion's probe had hit its mark. If these men weren't
+from the Cultural Relationships Foundation they at least knew a lot
+about it. It seemed safe to assume they were C.R.F. men.
+
+"When they were shot the girl and I escaped. We were trying to reach
+the city and contact you. You are from the Foundation, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes. Of course," the man said, lowering the gun. He stared
+glassy-eyed into space for a moment, nervously working his teeth
+against his lip. Startled at his own inattention, he raised the gun
+again.
+
+"If you're Brandd, there's something I want to know." Rummaging
+in his breast pocket with his free hand, he brought out a yellow
+message form. He moved his lips as he reread the message. "Now
+answer me--if you can--what are the last three events in the ..."
+He took a quick look at the paper again. "... in the Twenties?"
+
+"Chess finals, rifle prone position, and fencing playoffs. Why?"
+
+The man grunted and slid the pistol back into its holder, satisfied.
+"I'm Faussel," he said, and waved the message at Brion. "This is
+Ihjel's last will and testament, relayed to us by the Nyjord
+blockade control. He thought he was going to die and he sure was
+right. Passed on his job to you. You're in charge. I was Mervv's
+second-in-command, until he was poisoned. I was supposed to work for
+Ihjel, and now I guess I'm yours. At least until tomorrow, when
+we'll have everything packed and get off this hell planet."
+
+"What do you mean, tomorrow?" Brion asked. "It's three days to
+deadline and we still have a job to do."
+
+Faussel had dropped heavily into one of the seats and he sprang to
+his feet again, clutching the seat back to keep his balance in the
+swaying car.
+
+"Three days, three weeks, three minutes--what difference does it
+make?" His voice rose shrilly with each word, and he had to make a
+definite effort to master himself before he could go on. "Look. You
+don't know anything about this. You just arrived and that's your bad
+luck. My bad luck is being assigned to this death trap and watching
+the depraved and filthy things the natives do. And trying to be
+polite to them even when they are killing my friends, and those
+Nyjord bombers up there with their hands on the triggers. One of
+those bombardiers is going to start thinking about home and about
+the cobalt bombs down here and he's going to press that button,
+deadline or no deadline."
+
+"Sit down, Faussel. Sit down and take a rest." There was sympathy in
+Brion's voice--but also the firmness of an order. Faussel swayed for
+a second longer, then collapsed. He sat with his cheek against the
+window, eyes closed. A pulse throbbed visibly in his temple and his
+lips worked. He had been under too much tension for too long a time.
+
+This was the atmosphere that hung heavily in the air at the C.R.F.
+building when they arrived. Despair and defeat. The doctor was the
+only one who didn't share this mood as he bustled Lea off to the
+clinic with prompt efficiency. He obviously had enough patients to
+keep his mind occupied. With the others the feeling of depression
+was unmistakable. From the instant they had driven through the
+automatic garage door, Brion had swum in this miasma of defeat.
+It was omnipresent and hard to ignore.
+
+As soon as he had eaten he went with Faussel into what was to have
+been Ihjel's office. Through the transparent walls he could see the
+staff packing the records, crating them for shipment. Faussel seemed
+less nervous now that he was no longer in command. Brion rejected
+any idea he had of letting the man know that he himself was only
+a novice in the foundation. He was going to need all the authority
+he could muster, since they would undoubtedly hate him for what he
+was going to do.
+
+"Better take notes of this, Faussel, and have it typed. I'll sign
+it." The printed word always carried more weight. "All preparations
+for leaving are to be stopped at once. Records are to be returned
+to the files. We are going to stay here just as long as we have
+clearance from the Nyjorders. If this operation is unsuccessful we
+will all leave together when the time expires. We will take whatever
+personal baggage we can carry by hand; everything else stays here.
+Perhaps you don't realize we are here to save a planet--not file
+cabinets full of papers."
+
+Out of the corner of his eye he saw Faussel flush with anger. "As
+soon as that is typed bring it back. And all the reports as to what
+has been accomplished on this project. That will be all for now."
+
+Faussel stamped out, and a minute later Brion saw the shocked, angry
+looks from the workers in the outer office. Turning his back to
+them, he opened the drawers in the desk, one after another. The top
+drawer was empty, except for a sealed envelope. It was addressed to
+Winner Ihjel.
+
+Brion looked at it thoughtfully, then ripped it open. The letter
+inside was handwritten.
+
+     _Ihjel:_
+
+     _I've had the official word that you are on the way
+     to relieve me and I am forced to admit I feel only
+     an intense satisfaction. You've had the experience on
+     these outlaw planets and can get along with the odd
+     types. I have been specializing in research for the
+     last twenty years, and the only reason I was appointed
+     planetary supervisor on Nyjord was because of the
+     observation and application facilities. I'm the
+     research type, not the office type; no one has ever
+     denied that._
+
+     _You're going to have trouble with the staff, so you
+     had better realize that they are all compulsory
+     volunteers. Half are clerical people from my staff.
+     The others a mixed bag of whoever was close enough to
+     be pulled in on this crash assignment. It developed so
+     fast we never saw it coming. And I'm afraid we've done
+     little or nothing to stop it. We can't get access to
+     the natives here, not in the slightest. It's
+     frightening! They don't fit! I've done Poisson
+     Distributions on a dozen different factors and none of
+     them can be equated. The Pareto Extrapolations don't
+     work. Our field men can't even talk to the natives and
+     two have been killed trying. The ruling class is
+     unapproachable and the rest just keep their mouths shut
+     and walk away._
+
+     _I'm going to take a chance and try to talk to
+     Lig-magte, perhaps I can make him see sense. I doubt
+     if it will work and there is a chance he will try
+     violence with me. The nobility here are very prone to
+     violence. If I get back all right you won't see this
+     note. Otherwise--good-by, Ihjel. Try to do a better job
+     than I did._
+                                          _Aston Mervv_
+
+     _P.S. There is a problem with the staff. They are
+     supposed to be saviors, but without exception they all
+     loathe the Disans. I'm afraid I do too._
+
+Brion ticked off the relevant points in the letter. He had to find
+some way of discovering what Pareto Extrapolations were--without
+uncovering his own lack of knowledge. The staff would vanish in five
+minutes if they knew how new he was at the job. Poisson Distribution
+made more sense. It was used in physics as the unchanging
+probability of an event that would be true at all times. Such as
+the numbers of particles that would be given off by a lump of
+radioactive matter during a short period. From the way Mervv used
+it in his letter it looked as if the societics people had found
+measurable applications in societies and groups. At least on other
+planets. None of the rules seemed to be working on Dis. Ihjel had
+admitted that, and Mervv's death had proven it. Brion wondered who
+this Lig-magte was who appeared to have killed Mervv.
+
+A forged cough broke through Brion's concentration, and he realized
+that Faussel had been standing in front of his desk for some
+minutes. Brion looked up and mopped perspiration from his face.
+
+"Your air conditioner seems to be out of order," Faussel said.
+"Should I have the mechanic look at it?"
+
+"There's nothing wrong with the machine; I'm just adapting to Dis's
+climate. What else do you want, Faussel?"
+
+The assistant had a doubting look that he didn't succeed in hiding.
+He also had trouble believing the literal truth. He placed the small
+stack of file folders on the desk.
+
+"These are the reports to date, everything we have uncovered about
+the Disans. It's not very much; but considering the anti-social
+attitudes on this lousy world it is the best we could do." A sudden
+thought hit him, and his eyes narrowed slyly. "It can't be helped,
+but some of the staff have been wondering out loud about that native
+that contacted us. How did you get him to help you? We've never
+gotten to first base with these people, and as soon as you land you
+have one working for you. You can't stop people from thinking about
+it, you being a newcomer and a stranger. After all, it looks a
+little odd--" He broke off in midsentence as Brion looked at him
+in cold fury.
+
+"I can't stop people from thinking about it--but I can stop them
+from talking. Our job is to contact the Disans and stop this
+suicidal war. I have done more in one day than you all have done
+since you arrived. I have accomplished this because I am better at
+my work than the rest of you. That is all the information any of you
+are going to receive. You are dismissed."
+
+White with anger, Faussel turned on his heel and stamped out--to
+spread the word about what a slave-driver the new director was. They
+would then all hate him passionately, which was just the way he
+wanted it. He couldn't risk exposure as the tyro he was. And perhaps
+a new emotion, other than disgust and defeat, might jar them into a
+little action. They certainly couldn't do any worse than they had
+been doing.
+
+It was a tremendous amount of responsibility. For the first time
+since setting foot on this barbaric planet Brion had time to stop
+and think. He was taking an awful lot upon himself. He knew nothing
+about this world, nor about the powers involved in the conflict.
+Here he sat pretending to be in charge of an organization he had
+first heard about only a few weeks earlier. It was a frightening
+situation. Should he slide out from under?
+
+There was just one possible answer, and that was _no_. Until he
+found someone else who could do better, he seemed to be the one best
+suited for the job. And Ihjel's opinion had to count for something.
+Brion had felt the surety of the man's conviction that Brion was
+the only one who might possibly succeed in this difficult spot.
+
+Let it go at that. If he had any qualms it would be best to put them
+behind him. Aside from everything else, there was a primary bit of
+loyalty involved. Ihjel had been an Anvharian and a Winner. Maybe it
+was a provincial attitude to hold in this big universe--Anvhar was
+certainly far enough away from here--but honor is very important to
+a man who must stand alone. He had a debt to Ihjel, and he was going
+to pay it off.
+
+Once the decision had been made, he felt easier. There was an
+intercom on the desk in front of him and he leaned with a heavy
+thumb on the button labeled _Faussel_.
+
+"Yes?" Even through the speaker the man's voice was cold with
+ill-concealed hatred.
+
+"Who is Lig-magte? And did the former director ever return from
+seeing him?"
+
+"Magte is a title that means roughly noble or lord. Lig-magte is the
+local overlord. He has an ugly stoneheap of a building just outside
+the city. He seems to be the mouthpiece for the group of magter that
+are pushing this idiotic war. As to your second question, I have to
+answer yes and no. We found Director Mervv's head outside the door
+next morning with all the skin gone. We knew who it was because the
+doctor identified the bridgework in his mouth. _Do you understand?_"
+
+All pretense of control had vanished, and Faussel almost shrieked
+the last words. They were all close to cracking up, if he was any
+example. Brion broke in quickly.
+
+"That will be all, Faussel. Just get word to the doctor that I would
+like to see him as soon as I can." He broke the connection and
+opened the first of the folders. By the time the doctor called he
+had skimmed the reports and was reading the relevant ones in greater
+detail. Putting on his warm coat, he went through the outer office.
+The few workers still on duty turned their backs in frigid silence.
+
+Doctor Stine had a pink and shiny bald head that rose above a thick
+black beard. Brion had liked him at once. Anyone with enough
+firmness of mind to keep a beard in this climate was a pleasant
+exception after what he had met so far.
+
+"How's the new patient, Doctor?"
+
+Stine combed his beard with stubby fingers before answering.
+"Diagnosis: heat-syncope. Prognosis: complete recovery. Condition
+fair, considering the dehydration and extensive sunburn. I've
+treated the burns, and a saline drip is taking care of the other.
+She just missed going into heat-shock. I have her under sedation
+now."
+
+"I'd like to have her up and helping me tomorrow morning. Could she
+do this--with stimulants or drugs?"
+
+"She could--but I don't like it. There might be side factors,
+perhaps long-standing debilitation. It's a chance."
+
+"A chance we will have to take. In less than seventy hours this
+planet is due for destruction. In attempting to avert that tragedy
+I'm expendable, as is everyone else here. Agreed?"
+
+The doctor grunted deep in his beard and looked Brion's immense
+frame up and down. "Agreed," he said, almost happily. "It is a
+distinct pleasure to see something beside black defeat around here.
+I'll go along with you."
+
+"Well, you can help me right now. I checked the personnel roster and
+discovered that out of the twenty-eight people working here there
+isn't a physical scientist of any kind--other than yourself."
+
+"A scruffy bunch of button-pushers and theoreticians. Not worth a
+damn for field work, the whole bunch of them!" The doctor toed the
+floor switch on a waste receptacle and spat into it with feeling.
+
+"Then I'm going to depend on you for some straight answers," Brion
+said. "This is an un-standard operation, and the standard techniques
+just don't begin to make sense. Even Poisson Distributions and
+Pareto Extrapolations don't apply here." Stine nodded agreement and
+Brion relaxed a bit. He had just relieved himself of his entire
+knowledge of societics, and it had sounded authentic. "The more I
+look at it the more I believe that this is a physical problem,
+something to do with the exotic and massive adjustments the Disans
+have made to this hellish environment. Could this tie up in any way
+with their absolutely suicidal attitude towards the cobalt bombs?"
+
+"Could it? Could it?" Dr. Stine paced the floor rapidly on his
+stocky legs, twining his fingers behind his back. "You are bloody
+well right it could. Someone is thinking at last and not just
+punching bloody numbers into a machine and sitting and scratching
+his behind while waiting for the screen to light up with the
+answers. Do you know how Disans exist?" Brion shook his head. "The
+fools here think it disgusting but I call it fascinating. They have
+found ways to join a symbiotic relationship with the life forms on
+this planet. Even a parasitic relationship. You must realize that
+living organisms will do anything to survive. Castaways at sea will
+drink their own urine in their need for water. Disgust at this is
+only the attitude of the overprotected who have never experienced
+extreme thirst or hunger. Well, here on Dis you have a planet of
+castaways."
+
+Stine opened the door of the pharmacy. "This talk of thirst makes me
+dry." With economically efficient motions he poured grain alcohol
+into a beaker, thinned it with distilled water and flavored it with
+some crystals from a bottle. He filled two glasses and handed Brion
+one. It didn't taste bad at all.
+
+"What do you mean by parasitic, Doctor? Aren't we all parasites of
+the lower life forms? Meat animals, vegetables and such?"
+
+"No, no--you miss the point! I speak of parasitic in the exact
+meaning of the word. You must realize that to a biologist there is
+no real difference between parasitism, symbiosis, mutualism,
+biontergasy, commensalism--"
+
+"Stop, stop!" Brion said. "Those are just meaningless sounds to me.
+If that is what makes this planet tick I'm beginning to see why the
+rest of the staff has that lost feeling."
+
+"It is just a matter of degree of the same thing. Look. You have
+a kind of crustacean living in the lakes here, very much like an
+ordinary crab. It has large claws in which it holds anemones,
+tentacled sea animals with no power of motion. The crustacean waves
+these around to gather food, and eats the pieces they capture that
+are too big for them. This is biontergasy, two creatures living and
+working together, yet each capable of existing alone.
+
+"Now, this same crustacean has a parasite living under its shell, a
+degenerated form of a snail that has lost all powers of movement. A
+true parasite that takes food from its host's body and gives nothing
+in return. Inside this snail's gut there is a protozoan that lives
+off the snail's ingested food. Yet this little organism is not a
+parasite, as you might think at first, but a symbiote. It takes food
+from the snail, but at the same time it secretes a chemical that
+aids the snail's digestion of the food. Do you get the picture?
+All these life forms exist in a complicated interdependence."
+
+Brion frowned in concentration, sipping at the drink. "It's making
+some kind of sense now. Symbiosis, parasitism and all the rest are
+just ways of describing variations of the same basic process of
+living together. And there is probably a grading and shading between
+some of these that make the exact relationship hard to define."
+
+"Precisely. Existence is so difficult on this world that the
+competing forms have almost died out. There are still a few left,
+preying off the others. It was the cooperating and interdependent
+life forms that really won out in the race for survival. I say life
+forms with intent. The creatures here are mostly a mixture of plant
+and animal, like the lichens you have elsewhere. The Disans have a
+creature they call a "vaede" that they use for water when traveling.
+It has rudimentary powers of motion from its animal part, yet uses
+photosynthesis and stores water like a plant. When the Disans drink
+from it the thing taps their blood streams for food elements."
+
+"I know," Brion said wryly. "I drank from one. You can see my scars.
+I'm beginning to comprehend how the Disans fit into the physical
+pattern of their world, and I realize it must have all kinds of
+psychological effects on them. Do you think this has any effect on
+their social organization?"
+
+"An important one. But maybe I'm making too many suppositions now.
+Perhaps your researchers upstairs can tell you better; after all,
+this is their field."
+
+Brion had studied the reports on the social setup and not one word
+of them made sense. They were a solid maze of unknown symbols and
+cryptic charts. "Please continue, Doctor," he insisted. "The
+societics reports are valueless so far. There are factors missing.
+You are the only one I have talked to so far who can give me any
+intelligent reports or answers."
+
+"All right then--be it on your own head. The way I see it, you've
+got no society here at all, just a bunch of rugged individualists.
+Each one for himself, getting nourishment from the other life forms
+of the planet. If they have a society, it is orientated towards the
+rest of the planetary life--instead of towards other human beings.
+Perhaps that's why your figures don't make sense. They are set up
+for the human societies. In their relations with each other, these
+people are completely different."
+
+"What about the magter, the upper-class types who build castles and
+are causing all this trouble?"
+
+"I have no explanation," Dr. Stine admitted. "My theories hold water
+and seem logical enough up to this point. But the magter are the
+exception, and I have no idea why. They are completely different
+from the rest of the Disans. Argumentative, blood-thirsty, looking
+for planetary conquest instead of peace. They aren't rulers, not in
+the real sense. They hold power because nobody else wants it. They
+grant mining concessions to offworlders because they are the only
+ones with a sense of property. Maybe I'm going out on a limb. But
+if you can find out _why_ they are so different you may be onto
+the clue to our difficulties."
+
+For the first time since his arrival Brion began to feel a touch of
+enthusiasm. Plus a sense of the remote possibility that there might
+even be a solution to the deadly problem. He drained his glass and
+stood up.
+
+"I hope you'll wake your patient early, Doctor. You might be as
+interested in talking to her as I am. If what you told me is true,
+she could well be our key to the answer. She is Professor Lea
+Morees, and she is just out from Earth with degrees in exobiology
+and anthropology, and has a head stuffed with vital facts."
+
+"Wonderful!" Stine said. "I shall take care of the head, not only
+because it is so pretty but because of its knowledge. Though we
+totter on the edge of atomic destruction I have a strange feeling
+of optimism--for the first time since I landed on this planet."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+The guard inside the front entrance of the Foundation building
+jumped at the thunderous noise and reached for his gun. He dropped
+his hand sheepishly when he realized it was only a sneeze--though a
+gargantuan one. Brion came up, sniffling, huddling down into his
+coat. "I'm going out before I catch pneumonia," he said. The guard
+saluted dumbly, and after checking his proximity detector screens he
+slipped out and the heavy portal thudded shut behind him. The street
+was still warm from the heat of the day and he sighed happily and
+opened his coat.
+
+This was partly a reconnaissance trip--and partly a way of getting
+warmed up. There was little else he could do in the building; the
+staff had long since retired. He had slept for a half an hour, and
+had waked refreshed and ready to work. All of the reports he could
+understand had been read and reread until they were memorized. He
+could use the time now, while the rest of them were asleep, to get
+better acquainted with the main city of Dis.
+
+As he walked the dark streets he realized how alien the Disan way of
+life was to everything he knew. This city--Hovedstad--literally
+meant "main place" in the native language. And that's all it was. It
+was only the presence of the offworlders that made it into a city.
+Building after building, standing deserted, bore the names of mining
+companies, traders, space transporters. None of them was occupied
+now. Some still had lights burning, switched on by automatic
+apparatus, others were as dark as the Disan structures. There
+weren't many of these native constructions and they seemed out of
+place among the rammed earth and prefab offworld buildings. Brion
+examined one that was dimly illuminated by the light on the corner
+of VEGAN SMELTERS, LTD.
+
+It consisted of a single large room, resting right on the ground.
+There were no windows, and the whole thing appeared to have been
+constructed of some sort of woven material plastered with stone-hard
+mud. Nothing was blocking the door and he was thinking seriously of
+going in when he became aware that he was being followed.
+
+It was only a slight noise, almost lost in the night. Normally it
+would never have been noticed, but tonight Brion was listening with
+his entire body. Someone was behind him, swallowed up in the pools
+of darkness. Brion shrank back against the wall. There was very
+little chance this could be anyone but a Disan. He had a sudden
+memory of Mervv's severed head as it had been discovered outside the
+door.
+
+Ihjel had helped him train his empathetic sense and he reached out
+with it. It was difficult working in the dark; he could be sure of
+nothing. Was he getting a reaction--or just wishing for one? Why did
+it have a ring of familiarity to it? A sudden idea struck him.
+
+"Ulv," he said, very softly. "This is Brion." He crouched, ready
+for any attack.
+
+"I know," a voice said softly in the night. "Do not talk. Walk
+in the direction you were going before."
+
+Asking questions now would accomplish nothing. Brion turned
+instantly and did as he was bidden. The buildings grew further apart
+until he realized from the sand underfoot that he was back in the
+planet-wide desert. It could be a trap--he hadn't recognized the
+voice behind the whisper--yet he had to take this chance. A darker
+shape appeared in the dark night near him, and a burning hot hand
+touched his arm lightly.
+
+"I will walk ahead. Follow close behind me." The words were louder
+and this time Brion recognized the voice.
+
+Without waiting for an answer, Ulv turned and his dimly seen shape
+vanished into the darkness. Brion moved swiftly after him, until
+they walked side by side over the rolling hills of sand. The sand
+merged into hard-baked ground, became cracked and scarred with
+rock-filled gulleys. They followed a deepening gulley that grew into
+a good-sized ravine. When they turned an angle of the ravine Brion
+saw a weak yellow light coming from an opening in the hard dirt
+wall.
+
+Ulv dropped on all fours and vanished through the shoulder-wide
+hole. Brion followed him, trying to ignore the growing tension and
+unease he felt. Crawling like this, head down, he was terribly
+vulnerable. He tried to shrug off the feeling, mentally blaming it
+on tense nerves.
+
+The tunnel was short and opened into a larger chamber. A sudden
+scuffle of feet sounded at the same instant that a wave of
+empathetic hatred struck him. It took vital seconds to fight his way
+out of the trapping tunnel, to roll clear and bring his gun up.
+During those seconds he should have died. The Disan poised above him
+had the short-handled stone hammer raised to strike a skull-crushing
+blow.
+
+Ulv was clutching the man's wrist, fighting silently to keep the
+hammer from falling. Neither combatant said a word, the rasp of
+their calloused feet on the sand the only sound. Brion backed away
+from the struggling men, his gun centered on the stranger. The Disan
+followed him with burning eyes, and dropped the hammer as soon as it
+was obvious the attack had failed.
+
+"Why did you bring him here?" he growled at Ulv. "Why didn't you
+kill him?"
+
+"He is here so we can listen to what he says, Gebk. He is the one
+I told you of, that I found in the desert."
+
+"We listen to what he says and then we kill him," Gebk said with a
+mirthless grin. The remark wasn't meant to be humorous, but was made
+in all seriousness. Brion recognized this and knew that there was no
+danger for the present moment. He slid the gun away, and for the
+first time looked around the chamber.
+
+It was domed in shape and was still hot from the heat of the day.
+Ulv took off the length of cloth he had wrapped around his body
+against the chill, and refolded it as a kilt, strapping it on under
+his belt artifacts. He grunted something unintelligible and when
+a muttered answer came, Brion for the first time became aware of
+the woman and the child.
+
+The two sat against the far wall, squatting on either side of a heap
+of fibrous plants. Both were nude, clothed only in the matted hair
+that fell below their shoulders. The belt of strange tools could not
+be classified as clothing. Even the child wore a tiny replica of her
+mother's. Putting down a length of plant she had been chewing, the
+woman shuffled over to the tiny fire that illuminated the room. A
+clay pot stood over it, and from this she ladled three bowls of food
+for the men. It smelled atrocious, and Brion tried not to taste or
+smell the sickening mixture while he ate it. He used his fingers, as
+did the other men, and did not talk while he ate. There was no way
+to tell if the silence was ritual or habit. It gave him a chance for
+a closer look at the Disan way of living.
+
+The cave was obviously hand-made; tool marks could be clearly seen
+in the hard clay of the walls, except in the portion opposite the
+entrance. This was covered with a network of roots, rising out of
+the floor and vanishing into the roof of earth above. Perhaps this
+was the reason for the cave's existence. The thin roots had been
+carefully twisted and plaited together until they formed a single
+swollen root in the center, as thick as a man's arm. From this hung
+four of the vaedes: Ulv had placed his there before he sat down. The
+teeth must have instantly sunk in, for it hung unsupported--another
+link in the Disan life cycle. This appeared to be the source of the
+vaede's water that nourished the people.
+
+Brion was aware of eyes upon him and turned and smiled at the little
+girl. She couldn't have been over six years old, but she was already
+a Disan in every way. She neither returned his smile nor changed her
+expression, unchildlike in its stolidity. Her hands and jaw never
+stopped as she worked on the lengths of fibrous plant her mother had
+placed before her. The child split them with a small tool and
+removed a pod of some kind. This was peeled--partially by scraping
+with a different tool, and partially by working between her teeth.
+It took long minutes to remove the tough rind; the results seemed
+scarcely worth it. A tiny wriggling object was finally disclosed
+which the girl instantly swallowed. She then began working on the
+next pod.
+
+Ulv put down his clay bowl and belched. "I brought you to the city
+as I told you I would," he said. "Have you done as you said you
+would?"
+
+"What did he promise?" Gebk asked.
+
+"That he would stop the war. Have you stopped it?"
+
+"I am trying to stop it," Brion said. "But it is not that easy.
+I'll need some help. It is your life that needs saving--yours and
+your families'. If you would help me--"
+
+"What is the truth?" Ulv broke in savagely. "All I hear is
+difference, and there is no longer any way to tell truth. For as
+long as always we have done as the magter say. We bring them food
+and they give us the metal and sometimes water when we need it. As
+long as we do as they ask they do not kill us. They live the wrong
+way, but I have had bronze from them for my tools. They have told us
+that they are getting a world for us from the sky people, and that
+is good."
+
+"It has always been known that the sky people are evil in every way,
+and only good can come from killing them," Gebk said.
+
+Brion stared back at the two Disans and their obvious hatred. "Then
+why didn't you kill me, Ulv?" he asked. "That first time in the
+desert, or tonight when you stopped Gebk?"
+
+"I could have. But there was something more important. What is the truth?
+Can we believe as we have always done? Or should we listen to this?"
+
+He threw a small sheet of plastic to Brion, no bigger than the palm
+of his hand. A metal button was fastened to one corner of the wafer,
+and a simple drawing was imbedded in the wafer. Brion held it to the
+light and saw a picture of a man's hand squeezing the button between
+thumb and forefinger. It was a subminiaturized playback; mechanical
+pressure on the case provided enough current to play the recorded
+message. The plastic sheet vibrated, acting as a loudspeaker.
+
+Though the voice was thin and scratchy, the words were clearly
+audible. It was an appeal for the Disan people not to listen to the
+magter. It explained that the magter had started a war that could
+have only one ending--the destruction of Dis. Only if the magter
+were thrown down and their weapons discovered could there be any
+hope.
+
+"Are these words true?" Ulv asked.
+
+"Yes," Brion said.
+
+"They are perhaps true," Gebk said, "but there is nothing that we
+can do. I was with my brother when these word-things fell out of the
+sky and he listened to one and took it to the magter to ask them.
+They killed him, as he should have known they would do. The magter
+kill us if they know we listen to the words."
+
+"And the words tell us we will die if we listen to the magter!" Ulv
+shouted, his voice cracking. Not with fear, but with frustration at
+the attempt to reconcile two opposite points of view. Up until this
+time his world had consisted of black and white values, with very
+few shadings of difference in between.
+
+"There are things you can do that will stop the war without hurting
+yourself or the magter," Brion said, searching for a way to enlist
+their aid.
+
+"Tell us," Ulv grunted.
+
+"There would be no war if the magter could be contacted, made to
+listen to reason. They are killing you all. You could tell me how
+to talk to the magter, how I could understand them--"
+
+"No one can talk to the magter," the woman broke in. "If you say
+something different they will kill you as they killed Gebk's
+brother. So they are easy to understand. That is the way they are.
+They do not change." She put the length of plant she had been
+softening for the child back into her mouth. Her lips were deeply
+grooved and scarred from a lifetime of this work, her teeth at the
+sides worn almost to the bone.
+
+"Mor is right," Ulv said. "You do not talk to magter. What else is
+there to do?"
+
+Brion looked at the two men before he spoke, and shifted his weight.
+The motion brought his fingertips just a few inches from his gun.
+"The magter have bombs that will destroy Nyjord--this is the next
+planet, a star in your sky. If I can find where the bombs are, I
+will have them taken away and there will be no war."
+
+"You want to aid the devils in the sky against our own people!"
+Gebk shouted, half rising. Ulv pulled him back to the ground,
+but there was no more warmth in his voice as he spoke.
+
+"You are asking too much. You will leave now."
+
+"Will you help me, though? Will you help stop the war?" Brion asked,
+aware he had gone too far, but unable to stop. Their anger was
+making them forget the reasons for his being there.
+
+"You ask too much," Ulv said again. "Go back now. We will talk about it."
+
+"Will I see you again? How can I reach you?"
+
+"We will find you if we wish to talk to you," was all Ulv said. If
+they decided he was lying he would never see them again. There was
+nothing he could do about it.
+
+"I have made up my mind," Gebk said, rising to his feet and drawing
+his cloth up until it covered his shoulders. "You are lying and this
+is all a lie of the sky people. If I see you again I will kill you."
+He stepped to the tunnel and was gone.
+
+There was nothing more to be said. Brion went out next--checking
+carefully to be sure that Gebk really had left--and Ulv guided him
+to the spot where the lights of Hovedstad were visible. He did not
+speak during their return journey and vanished without a word. Brion
+shivered in the night chill of the air and wrapped his coat more
+tightly around himself. Depressed, he walked back towards the warmer
+streets of the city.
+
+It was dawn when he reached the Foundation building; a new guard
+was at the front entrance. No amount of hammering or threats could
+convince the man to open until Faussel came down, yawning and
+blinking with sleep. He was starting some complaint when Brion cut
+him off curtly and ordered him to finish dressing and report for
+work at once. Still feeling elated, Brion hurried into his office
+and cursed the overly efficient character who had turned on his air
+conditioner to chill the room again. When he turned it off this time
+he removed enough vital parts to keep it out of order for the
+duration.
+
+When Faussel came in he was still yawning behind his fist--obviously
+a low morning-sugar type. "Before you fall on your face, go out and
+get some coffee," Brion said. "Two cups. I'll have a cup too."
+
+"That won't be necessary," Faussel said, drawing himself up stiffly.
+"I'll call the canteen if you wish some." He said it in the iciest
+tone he could manage this early in the morning.
+
+In his enthusiasm Brion had forgotten the hate campaign he had
+directed against himself. "Suit yourself," he said shortly, getting
+back into the role. "But the next time you yawn there'll be a
+negative entry in your service record. If that's clear--you can
+brief me on this organization's visible relations with the Disans.
+How do they take us?"
+
+Faussel choked and swallowed a yawn. "I believe they look on the
+C.R.F. people as some species of simpleton, sir. They hate all
+offworlders; memory of their desertion has been passed on verbally
+for generations. So by their one-to-one logic we should either hate
+back or go away. We stay instead. And give them food, water,
+medicine and artifacts. Because of this they let us remain on
+sufferance. I imagine they consider us do-gooder idiots, and as long
+as we cause no trouble they'll let us stay." He was struggling
+miserably to suppress a yawn, so Brion turned his back and gave him
+a chance to get it out.
+
+"What about the Nyjorders? How much do they know of our work?" Brion
+looked out the window at dusty buildings, outlined in purple against
+the violent colors of the desert sunrise.
+
+"Nyjord is a cooperating planet, and has full knowledge at all
+executive levels. They are giving us all the aid they can."
+
+"Well, now is the time to ask for more. Can I contact the commander
+of the blockading fleet?"
+
+"There is a scrambler connection right through to him. I'll set it
+up." Faussel bent over the desk and punched a number into the phone
+controls. The screen flowed with the black and white patterns of the
+scrambler.
+
+"That's all, Faussel," Brion said. "I want privacy for this talk.
+What's the commander's name?"
+
+"Professor Krafft--he's a physicist. They have no military men at
+all, so they called him in for the construction of the bombs and
+energy weapons. He's still in charge." Faussel yawned extravagantly
+as he went out the door.
+
+The Professor-Commander was very old, with wispy grey hair and
+a network of wrinkles surrounding his eyes. His image shimmered,
+then cleared as the scrambler units aligned.
+
+"You must be Brion Brandd," he said. "I have to tell you how sorry
+we all are that your friend Ihjel and the two others--had to die,
+after coming so far to help us. I'm sure you are very happy to have
+had a friend like that."
+
+"Why ... yes, of course," Brion said, reaching for the scattered
+fragments of his thought processes. It took an effort to remember
+the first conflict, now that he was worrying about the death of a
+planet. "It's very kind of you to mention it. But I would like to
+find out a few things from you, if I could."
+
+"Anything at all; we are at your disposal. Before we begin, though,
+I shall pass on the thanks of our council for your aid in joining
+us. Even if we are eventually forced to drop the bombs, we shall
+never forget that your organization did everything possible to
+avert the disaster."
+
+Once again Brion was caught off balance. For an instant he wondered
+if Krafft was being insincere, then recognized the baseness of this
+thought. The completeness of the man's humanity was obvious and
+compelling. The thought passed through Brion's mind that now he had
+an additional reason for wanting the war ended without destruction
+on either side. He very much wanted to visit Nyjord and see these
+people on their home grounds.
+
+Professor Krafft waited, patiently and silently, while Brion pulled
+his thoughts together and answered. "I still hope that this thing
+can be stopped in time. That's what I wanted to talk to you about.
+I want to see Lig-magte and I thought it would be better if I had
+a legitimate reason. Are you in contact with him?"
+
+Krafft shook his head. "No, not really in contact. When this trouble
+started I sent him a transceiver so we could talk directly. But he
+has delivered his ultimatum, speaking for the magter. The only terms
+he will hear are unconditional surrender. His receiver is on, but
+he has said that is the only message he will answer."
+
+"Not much chance of him ever being told that," Brion said.
+
+"There was--at one time. I hope you realize, Brion, that the
+decision to bomb Dis was not easily arrived at. A great many
+people--myself included--voted for unconditional surrender.
+We lost the vote by a very small margin."
+
+Brion was getting used to these philosophical body blows and he
+rolled with the punches now. "Are there any of your people left on
+this planet? Or do you have any troops I can call on for help? This
+is still a remote possibility, but if I do find out where the bombs
+or the launchers are, a surprise raid would knock them out."
+
+"We have no people left in Hovedstad now--all the ones who weren't
+evacuated were killed. But there are commando teams standing by here
+to make a landing if the weapons are detected. The Disans must
+depend on secrecy to protect their armament, since we have both
+the manpower and the technology to reach any objective. We also
+have technicians and other volunteers looking for the weapon sites.
+They have not been successful as yet, and most of them were killed
+soon after landing."
+
+Krafft hesitated for a moment. "There is another group you should
+know about; you will need all the factors. Some of our people are in
+the desert outside of Hovedstad. We do not officially approve of
+them, though they have a good deal of popular support. They are
+mostly young men, operating as raiders, killing and destroying with
+very little compunction. They are attempting to uncover the weapons
+by sheer strength of arms."
+
+This was the best news yet. Brion controlled his voice and kept his
+expression calm when he spoke. "I don't know how far I can stretch
+your cooperation--but could you possibly tell me how to get in touch
+with them?"
+
+Kraft allowed himself a small smile. "I'll give you the wave length
+on which you can reach their radio. They call themselves the 'Nyjord
+army.' When you talk to them you can do me a favor. Pass on a
+message. Just to prove things aren't bad enough, they've become
+a little worse. One of our technical crews has detected jump-space
+energy transmissions in the planetary crust. The Disans are
+apparently testing their projector, sooner than we had estimated.
+Our deadline has been revised by one day. I'm afraid there are only
+two days left before you must evacuate." His eyes were large with
+compassion. "I'm sorry. I know this will make your job that much
+harder."
+
+Brion didn't want to think about the loss of a full day from his
+already close deadline. "Have you told the Disans this yet?"
+
+"No," Krafft told him. "The decision was reached a few minutes
+before your call. It is going on the radio to Lig-magte now."
+
+"Can you cancel the transmission and let me take the message in
+person?"
+
+"I can do that." Krafft thought for a moment. "But it would surely
+mean your death at their hands. They have no hesitation in killing
+any of our people. I would prefer to send it by radio."
+
+"If you do that you will be interfering with my plans, and perhaps
+destroying them under the guise of saving my life. Isn't my life
+my own--to dispose of as I will?"
+
+For the first time Professor Krafft was upset. "I'm sorry, terribly
+sorry. I'm letting my concern and worry wash over into my public
+affairs. Of course you may do as you please; I could never think of
+stopping you." He turned and said something inaudible offscreen.
+"The call is cancelled. The responsibility is yours. All our wishes
+for success go with you. End of transmission."
+
+"End of transmission," Brion said, and the screen went dark.
+
+"Faussel!" he shouted into the intercom. "Get me the best and
+fastest sand car we have, a driver who knows his way around, and two
+men who can handle a gun and know how to take orders. We're going to
+get some positive action at last."
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+"It's suicide," the taller guard grumbled.
+
+"Mine, not yours, so don't worry about it," Brion barked at him.
+"Your job is to remember your orders and keep them straight.
+Now--let's hear them again."
+
+The guard rolled his eyes up in silent rebellion and repeated in a
+toneless voice: "We stay here in the car and keep the motor running
+while you go inside the stone pile there. We don't let anybody in
+the car and we try and keep them clear of the car--short of shooting
+them, that is. We don't come in, no matter what happens or what it
+looks like, but wait for you here. Unless you call on the radio, in
+which case we come in with the automatics going and shoot the place
+up, and it doesn't matter who we hit. This will be done only as
+a last resort."
+
+"See if you can't arrange that last resort thing," the other guard
+said, patting the heavy blue barrel of his weapon.
+
+"I meant that _last_ resort," Brion said angrily. "If any guns go
+off without my permission you will pay for it, and pay with your
+necks. I want that clearly understood. You are here as a rear guard
+and a base for me to get back to. This is my operation and mine
+alone--unless I call you in. Understood?"
+
+He waited until all three men had nodded in agreement, then checked
+the charge on his gun--it was fully loaded. It would be foolish to
+go in unarmed, but he had to. One gun wouldn't save him. He put it
+aside. The button radio on his collar was working and had a strong
+enough signal to get through any number of walls. He took off his
+coat, threw open the door and stepped out into the searing
+brilliance of the Disan noon.
+
+There was only the desert silence, broken by the steady throb of
+the car's motor behind him. Stretching away to the horizon in every
+direction was the eternal desert of sand. The keep stood nearby,
+solitary, a massive pile of black rock. Brion plodded closer,
+watching for any motion from the walls. Nothing stirred. The
+high-walled, irregularly shaped construction sat in a ponderous
+silence. Brion was sweating now, only partially from the heat.
+
+He circled the thing, looking for a gate. There wasn't one at ground
+level. A slanting cleft in the stone could be climbed easily, but it
+seemed incredible that this might be the only entrance. A complete
+circuit proved that it was. Brion looked unhappily at the slanting
+and broken ramp, then cupped his hands and shouted loudly.
+
+"I'm coming up. Your radio doesn't work any more. I'm bringing the
+message from Nyjord that you have been waiting to hear." This was
+a slight bending of the truth without fracturing it. There was no
+answer--just the hiss of wind-blown sand against the rock and the
+mutter of the car in the background. He started to climb.
+
+The rock underfoot was crumbling and he had to watch where he put
+his feet. At the same time he fought a constant impulse to look up,
+watching for anything falling from above. Nothing happened. When he
+reached the top of the wall he was breathing hard; sweat moistened
+his body. There was still no one in sight. He stood on an unevenly
+shaped wall that appeared to circle the building. Instead of having
+a courtyard inside it, the wall was the outer face of the structure,
+the domed roof rising from it. At varying intervals dark openings
+gave access to the interior. When Brion looked down, the sand car
+was just a dun-colored bump in the desert, already far behind him.
+
+Stooping, he went through the nearest door. There was still no one
+in sight. The room inside was something out of a madman's funhouse.
+It was higher than it was wide, irregular in shape, and more like a
+hallway than a room. At one end it merged into an incline that
+became a stairwell. At the other it ended in a hole that vanished
+in darkness below. Light of sorts filtered in through slots and
+holes drilled into the thick stone wall. Everything was built of the
+same crumble-textured but strong rock. Brion took the stairs. After
+a number of blind passages and wrong turns he saw a stronger light
+ahead, and went on. There was food, metal, even artifacts of the
+unusual Disan design in the different rooms he passed through. Yet
+no people. The light ahead grew stronger, and the last passageway
+opened and swelled out until it led into the large central chamber.
+
+This was the heart of the strange structure. All the rooms,
+passageways and halls existed just to give form to this gigantic
+chamber. The walls rose sharply, the room being circular in cross
+section and growing narrower towards the top. It was a truncated
+cone, since there was no ceiling; a hot blue disk of sky cast light
+on the floor below.
+
+On the floor stood a knot of men who stared at Brion.
+
+Out of the corner of his eyes, and with the very periphery of his
+consciousness, he was aware of the rest of the room--barrels,
+stores, machinery, a radio transceiver, various bundles and heaps
+that made no sense at first glance. There was no time to look
+closer. Every fraction of his attention was focused on the muffled
+and hooded men.
+
+He had found the enemy.
+
+Everything that had happened to him so far on Dis had been
+preparation for this moment. The attack in the desert, the escape,
+the dreadful heat of sun and sand. All this had tempered and
+prepared him. It had been nothing in itself. Now the battle would
+begin in earnest.
+
+None of this was conscious in his mind. His fighter's reflexes bent
+his shoulders, curved his hands before him as he walked softly in
+balance, ready to spring in any direction. Yet none of this was
+really necessary. All the danger so far was nonphysical. When he did
+give conscious thought to the situation he stopped, startled. What
+was wrong here? None of the men had moved or made a sound. How could
+he even know they were men? They were so muffled and wrapped in
+cloth that only their eyes were exposed.
+
+No doubt, however, existed in Brion's mind. In spite of muffled
+cloth and silence, he knew them for what they were. The eyes were
+empty of expression and unmoving, yet were filled with the same
+negative emptiness as those of a bird of prey. They could look on
+life, death, and the rending of flesh with the same lack of interest
+and compassion. All this Brion knew in an instant of time, without
+words being spoken. Between the time he lifted one foot and walked a
+step he understood what he had to face. There could be no doubt, not
+to an empathetic.
+
+From the group of silent men poured a frost-white wave of unemotion.
+An empathetic shares what other men feel. He gets his knowledge of
+their reaction by sensing lightly their emotions, the surges of
+interest, hate, love, fear, desire, the sweep of large and small
+sensations that accompany all thought and action. The empathetic
+is always aware of this constant and silent surge, whether he makes
+the effort to understand it or not. He is like a man glancing across
+the open pages of a tableful of books. He can see that the type, words,
+paragraphs, thoughts are there, even without focusing his attention
+to understand any of it.
+
+Then how does the man feel when he glances at the open books and
+sees only blank pages? The books are there--the words are not. He
+turns the pages of one, of the others, flipping the pages, searching
+for meaning. There is no meaning. All of the pages are blank.
+
+This was the way in which the magter were blank, without emotions.
+There was a barely sensed surge and return that must have been
+neural impulses on a basic level--the automatic adjustments of nerve
+and muscle that keep an organism alive. Nothing more. Brion reached
+for other sensations, but there was nothing there to grasp. Either
+these men were without emotions, or they were able to block them
+from his detection; it was impossible to tell which.
+
+Very little time had passed while Brion made these discoveries. The
+knot of men still looked at him, silent and unmoving. They weren't
+expectant, their attitude could not have been called one of
+interest. But he had come to them and now they waited to find out
+why. Any questions or statements they spoke would be superfluous,
+so they didn't speak. The responsibility was his.
+
+"I have come to talk with Lig-magte. Who is he?" Brion didn't like
+the tiny sound his voice made in the immense room.
+
+One of the men gave a slight motion to draw attention to himself.
+None of the others moved. They still waited.
+
+"I have a message for you," Brion said, speaking slowly to fill the
+silence of the room and the emptiness of his thoughts. This had to
+be handled right. But what was right? "I'm from the Foundation in
+the city, as you undoubtedly know. I've been talking to the people
+of Nyjord. They have a message for you."
+
+The silence grew longer. Brion had no intention of making this a
+monologue. He needed facts to operate, to form an opinion. Looking
+at the silent forms was telling him nothing. Time stretched taut,
+and finally Lig-magte spoke.
+
+"The Nyjorders are going to surrender."
+
+It was an impossibly strange sentence. Brion had never realized
+before how much of the content of speech was made up of emotion.
+If the man had given it a positive emphasis, perhaps said it with
+enthusiasm, it would have meant, "Success! The enemy is going to
+surrender!" This wasn't the meaning.
+
+With a rising inflection on the end it would have been a question.
+"Are they going to surrender?" It was neither of these. The sentence
+carried no other message than that contained in the simplest
+meanings of the separate words. It had intellectual connotations,
+but these could only be gained from past knowledge, not from the
+sound of the words. There was only one message they were prepared
+to receive from Nyjord. Therefore Brion was bringing the message.
+If that was not the message Brion was bringing the men here were
+not interested.
+
+This was the vital fact. If they were not interested he could have
+no further value to them. Since he came from the enemy, he was the
+enemy. Therefore he would be killed. Because this was vital to his
+existence, Brion took the time to follow the thought through. It
+made logical sense--and logic was all he could depend on now. He
+could be talking to robots or alien creatures, for all the human
+response he was receiving.
+
+"You can't win this war--all you can do is hurry your own deaths."
+He said this with as much conviction as he could, realizing at the
+same time that it was wasted effort. No flicker of response stirred
+in the men before him. "The Nyjorders know you have the cobalt
+bombs, and they have detected your jump-space projector. They can't
+take any more chances. They have pushed the deadline closer by an
+entire day. There are one and a half days left before the bombs fall
+and you are all destroyed. Do you realize what that means--"
+
+"Is that the message?" Lig-magte asked.
+
+"Yes," Brion said.
+
+Two things saved his life then. He had guessed what would happen as
+soon as they had his message, though he hadn't been sure. But even
+the suspicion had put him on his guard. This, combined with the
+reflexes of a Winner of the Twenties, was barely enough to enable
+him to survive.
+
+From frozen mobility Lig-magte had catapulted into headlong attack.
+As he leaped forward he drew a curved, double-edged blade from under
+his robes. It plunged unerringly through the spot where Brion's body
+had been an instant before.
+
+There had been no time to tense his muscles and jump, just the space
+of time to relax them and fall to one side. His reasoning mind
+joined the battle as he hit the floor. Lig-magte plunged by him,
+turning and bringing the knife down at the same time. Brion's foot
+lashed out and caught the other man's leg, sending him sprawling.
+
+They were both on their feet at the same instant, facing each other.
+Brion now had his hands clasped before him in the unarmed man's
+best defense against a knife, the two arms protecting the body,
+the two hands joined to beat aside the knife arm from whichever
+direction it came. The Disan hunched low, flipped the knife quickly
+from hand to hand, then thrust it again at Brion's midriff.
+
+Only by the merest fractional margin did Brion evade the attack for
+the second time. Lig-magte fought with utter violence. Every action
+was as intense as possible, deadly and thorough. There could be only
+one end to this unequal contest if Brion stayed on the defensive.
+The man with the knife had to win.
+
+With the next charge Brion changed tactics. He leaped inside the
+thrust, clutching for the knife arm. A burning slice of pain cut
+across his arm, then his fingers clutched the tendoned wrist. They
+clamped down hard, grinding shut, compressing with the tightening
+intensity of a closing vise.
+
+It was all he could do simply to hold on. There was no science in
+it, just his greater strength from exercise and existence on a
+heavier planet. All of this strength went to his clutching hand,
+because he held his own life in that hand, forcing away the knife
+that wanted to terminate it forever. Nothing else mattered--neither
+the frightening force of the knees that thudded into his body nor
+the hooked fingers that reached for his eyes to tear them out. He
+protected his face as well as he could, while the nails tore furrows
+through his flesh and the cut on his arm bled freely. These were
+only minor things to be endured. His life depended on the grasp of
+the fingers of his right hand.
+
+There was a sudden immobility as Brion succeeded in clutching
+Lig-magte's other arm. It was a good grip, and he could hold the arm
+immobilized. They had reached stasis, standing knee to knee, their
+faces only a few inches apart. The muffling cloth had fallen from
+the Disan's face during the struggle, and empty, frigid eyes stared
+into Brion's. No flicker of emotion crossed the harsh planes of the
+other man's face. A great puckered white scar covered one cheek and
+pulled up a corner of the mouth in a cheerless grimace. It was
+false; there was still no expression here, even when the pain must
+be growing more intense.
+
+Brion was winning--if none of the watchers broke the impasse.
+His greater weight and strength counted now. The Disan would have
+to drop the knife before his arm was dislocated at the shoulder.
+He didn't do it. With sudden horror Brion realized that he wasn't
+going to drop it--no matter what happened.
+
+A dull, hideous snap jerked through the Disan's body and the arm
+hung limp and dead. No expression crossed the man's face. The knife
+was still locked in the fingers of the paralyzed hand. With his
+other hand Lig-magte reached across and started to pry the blade
+loose, ready to continue the battle one-handed. Brion raised his
+foot and kicked the knife free, sending it spinning across the room.
+
+Lig-magte made a fist of his good hand and crashed it into Brion's
+groin. He was still fighting, as if nothing had changed. Brion
+backed slowly away from the man. "Stop it," he said. "You can't win
+now. It's impossible." He called to the other men who were watching
+the unequal battle with expressionless immobility. No one answered
+him.
+
+With a terrible sinking sensation Brion then realized what would
+happen and what he had to do. Lig-magte was as heedless of his own
+life as he was of the life of his planet. He would press the attack
+no matter what damage was done to him. Brion had an insane vision of
+him breaking the man's other arm, fracturing both his legs, and the
+limbless broken creature still coming forward. Crawling, rolling,
+teeth bared, since they were the only remaining weapon.
+
+There was only one way to end it. Brion feinted and the Lig-magte's
+arm moved clear of his body. The engulfing cloth was thin and
+through it Brion could see the outlines of the Disan's abdomen and
+rib cage, the clear location of the great nerve ganglion.
+
+It was the death blow of kara-te. Brion had never used it on a man.
+In practice he had broken heavy boards, splintering them instantly
+with the short, precise stroke. The stiffened hand moving forward
+in a sudden surge, all the weight and energy of his body
+concentrated in his joined fingertips. Plunging deep into the
+other's flesh.
+
+Killing, not by accident or in sudden anger. Killing because this
+was the only way the battle could possibly end.
+
+Like a ruined tower of flesh, the Disan crumpled and fell.
+
+Dripping blood, exhausted, Brion stood over the body of Lig-magte
+and stared at the dead man's allies.
+
+Death filled the room.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+Facing the silent Disans, Brion's thoughts hurtled about in sweeping
+circles. There would be no more than an instant's tick of time
+before the magter avenged themselves bloodily and completely. He
+felt a fleeting regret for not having brought his gun, then
+abandoned the thought. There was no time for regrets--what could he
+do _now_?
+
+The silent watchers hadn't attacked instantly, and Brion realized
+that they couldn't be positive yet that Lig-magte had been killed.
+Only Brion himself knew the deadliness of that blow. Their lack of
+knowledge might buy him a little more time.
+
+"Lig-magte is unconscious, but he will revive quickly," Brion said,
+pointing at the huddled body. As the eyes turned automatically to
+follow his finger, he began walking slowly towards the exit. "I did
+not want to do this, but he forced me to, because he wouldn't listen
+to reason. Now I have something else to show you, something that I
+hoped it would not be necessary to reveal."
+
+He was saying the first words that came into his head, trying to
+keep them distracted as long as possible. He must appear to be only
+going across the room, that was the feeling he must generate. There
+was even time to stop for a second and straighten his rumpled
+clothing and brush the sweat from his eyes. Talking easily, walking
+slowly towards the hall that led out of the chamber.
+
+He was halfway there when the spell broke and the rush began. One of
+the magter knelt and touched the body, and shouted a single word:
+
+"Dead!"
+
+Brion hadn't waited for the official announcement. At the first
+movement of feet, he dived headlong for the shelter of the exit.
+There was a spatter of tiny missiles on the wall next to him and he
+had a brief glimpse of raised blowguns before the wall intervened.
+He went up the dimly lit stairs three at a time.
+
+The pack was just behind him, voiceless and deadly. He could not
+gain on them--if anything, they were closing the distance as he
+pushed his already tired body to the utmost. There was no subtlety
+or trick he could use now, just straightforward flight back the way
+he had come. A single slip on the irregular steps and it would be
+all over.
+
+There was someone ahead of him. If the woman had waited a few
+seconds more he would certainly have been killed; but instead of
+slashing at him as he went by the doorway, she made the mistake of
+rushing to the center of the stairs, the knife ready to impale him
+as he came up. Without slowing, Brion fell onto his hands and easily
+dodged under the blow. As he passed he twisted and seized her around
+the waist, picking her from the ground.
+
+When her legs lifted from under her the woman screamed--the first
+human sound Brion had heard in this human anthill. His pursuers were
+just behind him, and he hurled the woman into them with all his
+strength. They fell in a tangle, and Brion used the precious seconds
+gained to reach the top of the building.
+
+There must have been other stairs and exits, because one of the
+magter stood between Brion and the way down out of this trap--armed
+and ready to kill him if he tried to pass.
+
+As he ran towards the executioner, Brion flicked on his collar radio
+and shouted into it. "I'm in trouble here. Can you--"
+
+The guards in the car must have been waiting for this message.
+Before he had finished there was the thud of a high-velocity slug
+hitting flesh and the Disan spun and fell, blood soaking his
+shoulder. Brion leaped over him and headed for the ramp.
+
+"The next one is me--hold your fire!" he called.
+
+Both guards must have had their telescopic sights zeroed on the
+spot. They let Brion pass, then threw in a hail of semi-automatic
+fire that tore chunks from the stone and screamed away in noisy
+ricochets. Brion didn't try to see if anyone was braving this hail
+of covering fire; he concentrated his energies on making as quick
+and erratic a descent as he could. Above the sounds of the firing he
+heard the car motor howl as it leaped forward. With their careful
+aim spoiled, the gunners switched to full automatic and unleashed
+a hailstorm of flying metal that bracketed the top of the tower.
+
+"Cease ... firing!" Brion gasped into the radio as he ran. The
+driver was good, and timed his arrival with exactitude. The car
+reached the base of the tower at the same instant Brion did, and he
+burst through the door while it was still moving. No orders were
+necessary. He fell headlong onto a seat as the car swung in a
+dust-raising turn and ground into high gear, back to the city.
+
+Reaching over carefully, the tall guard gently extracted a bit of
+pointed wood and fluff from a fold of Brion's pants. He cracked open
+the car door, and just as delicately threw it out.
+
+"I knew that thing didn't touch you," he said, "since you are still
+among the living. They've got a poison on those blowgun darts that
+takes all of twelve seconds to work. Lucky."
+
+Lucky! Brion was beginning to realize just how lucky he was to be
+out of the trap alive. And with information. Now that he knew more
+about the magter, he shuddered at his innocence in walking alone and
+unarmed into the tower. Skill had helped him survive--but better
+than average luck had been necessary. Curiosity had gotten him in,
+brashness and speed had taken him out. He was exhausted, battered
+and bloody--but cheerfully happy. The facts about the magter were
+arranging themselves into a theory that might explain their attempt
+at racial suicide. It just needed a little time to be put into
+shape.
+
+A pain cut across his arm and he jumped, startled, pieces of his
+thoughts crashing into ruin around him. The gunner had cracked the
+first-aid box and was swabbing his arm with antiseptic. The knife
+wound was long, but not deep. Brion shivered while the bandage was
+going on, then quickly slipped into his coat. The air conditioner
+whined industriously, bringing down the temperature.
+
+There was no attempt to follow the car. When the black tower had
+dropped over the horizon the guards relaxed, ran cleaning rods
+through their guns and compared marksmanship. All of their
+antagonism towards Brion was gone; they actually smiled at him.
+He had given them the first chance to shoot back since they had
+been on this planet.
+
+The ride was uneventful, and Brion was scarcely aware of it.
+A theory was taking form in his mind. It was radical and
+startling--yet it seemed to be the only one that fitted the facts.
+He pushed at it from all sides, but if there were any holes he
+couldn't find them. What it needed was dispassionate proving or
+disproving. There was only one person on Dis who was qualified
+to do this.
+
+Lea was working in the lab when he came in, bent over a low-power
+binocular microscope. Something small, limbless and throbbing was
+on the slide. She glanced up when she heard his footsteps, smiling
+warmly when she recognized him. Fatigue and pain had drawn her face;
+her skin, glistening with burn ointment, was chapped and peeling.
+
+"I must look a wreck," she said, putting the back of her hand to her
+cheek. "Something like a well-oiled and lightly cooked piece of
+beef." She lowered her arm suddenly and took his hand in both of
+hers. Her palms were warm and slightly moist.
+
+"Thank you, Brion," was all she could say. Her society on Earth was
+highly civilized and sophisticated, able to discuss any topic
+without emotion and without embarrassment. This was fine in most
+circumstances, but made it difficult to thank a person for saving
+your life. However you tried to phrase it, it came out sounding like
+a last-act speech from a historical play. There was no doubt,
+however, as to what she meant. Her eyes were large and dark, the
+pupils dilated by the drugs she had been given. They could not lie,
+nor could the emotions he sensed. He did not answer, just held her
+hand an instant longer.
+
+"How do you feel," he asked, concerned. His conscience twinged as
+he remembered that he was the one who had ordered her out of bed
+and back to work today.
+
+"I should be feeling terrible," she said, with an airy wave of her
+hand. "But I'm walking on top of the world. I'm so loaded with
+pain-killers and stimulants that I'm high as the moon. All the
+nerves to my feet feel turned off--it's like walking on two balls
+of fluff. Thanks for getting me out of that awful hospital and back
+to work."
+
+Brion was suddenly sorry for having driven her from her sick bed.
+
+"Don't be sorry!" Lea said, apparently reading his mind, but really
+seeing only his sudden ashamed expression. "I'm feeling no pain.
+Honestly. I feel a little light-headed and foggy at times, nothing
+more. And this is the job I came here to do. In fact ... well, it's
+almost impossible to tell you just how fascinating it all is! It was
+almost worth getting baked and parboiled for."
+
+She swung back to the microscope, centering the specimen with a turn
+of the stage adjustment screw. "Poor Ihjel was right when he said
+this planet was exobiologically fascinating. This is a gastropod,
+a lot like _Odostomia_, but it has parasitical morphological changes
+so profound that--"
+
+"There's something else I remember," Brion said, interrupting her
+enthusiastic lecture, only half of which he could understand.
+"Didn't Ihjel also hope that you would give some study to the
+natives as well as their environment? The problem is with the
+Disans--not with the local wild life."
+
+"But I _am_ studying them," Lea insisted. "The Disans have attained
+an incredibly advanced form of commensalism. Their lives are so
+intimately connected and integrated with the other life forms that
+they must be studied in relation to their environment. I doubt if
+they show as many external physical changes as little eating-foot
+_Odostomia_ on the slide here, but there will surely be a number of
+psychological changes and adjustments that will crop up. One of
+these might be the explanation of their urge for planetary
+suicide."
+
+"That may be true--but I don't think so," Brion said. "I went on
+a little expedition this morning and found something that has more
+immediate relevancy."
+
+For the first time Lea became aware of his slightly battered
+condition. Her drug-grooved mind could only follow a single idea at
+a time and had over-looked the significance of the bandage and dirt.
+
+"I've been visiting," Brion said, forestalling the question on her
+lips. "The magter are the ones who are responsible for causing the
+trouble, and I had to see them up close before I could make any
+decisions. It wasn't a very pleasant thing, but I found out what
+I wanted to know. They are different in every way from the normal
+Disans. I've compared them. I've talked to Ulv--the native who saved
+us in the desert--and I can understand him. He is not like us in
+many ways--he certainly couldn't be, living in this oven--but he is
+still undeniably human. He gave us drinking water when we needed it,
+then brought help. The magter, the upper-class lords of Dis, are
+the direct opposite. As cold-blooded and ruthless a bunch of
+murderers as you can possibly imagine. They tried to kill me when
+they met me, without reason. Their clothes, habits, dwellings,
+manners--everything about them differs from that of the normal
+Disan. More important, the magter are as coldly efficient and
+inhuman as a reptile. They have no emotions, no love, no hate,
+no anger, no fear--nothing. Each of them is a chilling bundle of
+thought processes and reactions, with all the emotions removed."
+
+"Aren't you exaggerating?" Lea asked. "After all, you can't be sure.
+It might just be part of their training not to reveal any emotional
+state. Everyone must experience emotional states, whether they like
+it or not."
+
+"That's my main point. Everyone does--except the magter. I can't go
+into all the details now, so you'll just have to take my word for
+it. Even at the point of death they have no fear or hatred. It may
+sound impossible, but it is true."
+
+Lea tried to shake the knots from her drug-hazed mind. "I'm dull
+today," she said. "You'll have to excuse me. If these rulers had no
+emotional responses, that might explain their present suicidal
+position. But an explanation like this raises more new problems than
+it supplies answers to the old ones. How did they get this way! It
+doesn't seem humanly possible to be without emotions of some kind."
+
+"Just my point. Not _humanly_ possible. I think these ruling class
+Disans aren't human at all, like the other Disans. I think they are
+alien creatures--robots or androids--anything except men. I think
+they are living in disguise among the normal human dwellers."
+
+At first Lea started to smile, then her feeling changed when she saw
+his face. "You are serious?" she asked.
+
+"Never more so. I realize it must sound as if I've had my brains
+bounced around too much this morning. Yet this is the only idea I
+can come up with that fits all of the facts. Look at the evidence
+yourself. One simple thing stands out clearly, and must be
+considered first if any theory is to hold up. That is the magters'
+complete indifference to death--their own or anyone else's. Is that
+normal to mankind?"
+
+"No--but I can find a couple of explanations that I would rather
+explore first, before dragging in an alien life form. There may have
+been a mutation or an inherited disease that has deformed or warped
+their minds."
+
+"Wouldn't that be sort of self-eliminating?" Brion asked.
+"Anti-survival? People who die before puberty would find it a little
+difficult to pass on a mutation to their children. But let's not
+beat this one point to death--it's the totality of these people that
+I find so hard to accept. Any one thing might be explained away, but
+not the collection of them. What about their complete lack of
+emotion? Or their manner of dress and their secrecy in general? The
+ordinary Disan wears a cloth kilt, while the magter cover themselves
+as completely as possible. They stay in their black towers and
+never go out except in groups. Their dead are always removed so they
+can't be examined. In every way they act like a race apart--and I
+think they are."
+
+"Granted for the moment that this outlandish idea might be true, how
+did they get here? And why doesn't anyone know about it besides them?"
+
+"Easily enough explained," Brion insisted. "There are no written
+records on this planet. After the Breakdown, when the handful of
+survivors were just trying to exist here, the aliens could have
+landed and moved in. Any interference could have been wiped out.
+Once the population began to grow, the invaders found they could
+keep control by staying separate, so their alien difference wouldn't
+be noticed."
+
+"Why should that bother them?" Lea asked. "If they are so
+indifferent to death, they can't have any strong thoughts on public
+opinion or alien body odor. Why would they bother with such a
+complex camouflage? And if they arrived from another planet, what
+has happened to the scientific ability that brought them here?"
+
+"Peace," Brion said. "I don't know enough to be able even to guess
+at answers to half your questions. I'm just trying to fit a theory
+to the facts. And the facts are clear. The magter are so inhuman
+they would give me nightmares--if I were sleeping these days. What
+we need is more evidence."
+
+"Then get it," Lea said with finality. "I'm not telling you to turn
+murderer--but you might try a bit of grave-digging. Give me a
+scalpel and one of your friends stretched out on a slab and I'll
+quickly tell you what he is or is not." She turned back to the
+microscope and bent over the eyepiece.
+
+That was really the only way to hack the Gordian knot. Dis had only
+thirty-six more hours to live, so individual deaths shouldn't be of
+any concern. He had to find a dead magter, and if none was
+obtainable in the proper condition he had to get one of them by
+violence. For a planetary savior, he was personally doing in an
+awful lot of the citizenry.
+
+He stood behind Lea, looking down at her thoughtfully while she
+worked. The back of her neck, lightly covered with gently curling
+hair, was turned toward him. With one of the about-face shifts
+the mind is capable of, his thoughts flipped from death to life,
+and he experienced a strong desire to caress this spot lightly,
+to feel the yielding texture of female flesh....
+
+Plunging his hands deep into his pockets, he walked quickly to the
+door. "Get some rest soon," he called to her. "I doubt if those bugs
+will give you the answer. I'm going now to see if I can get the
+full-sized specimen you want."
+
+"The truth could be anywhere. I'll stay on these until you come
+back," she said, not looking up from the microscope.
+
+Up under the roof was a well-equipped communications room. Brion
+had taken a quick look at it when he had first toured the building.
+The duty operator had earphones on--though only one of the phones
+covered an ear--and was monitoring through the bands. His shoeless
+feet were on the edge of the table, and he was eating a thick
+sandwich held in his free hand. His eyes bulged when he saw Brion
+in the doorway and he jumped into a flurry of action.
+
+"Hold the pose," Brion told him; "it doesn't bother me. And if you
+make any sudden moves you are liable to break a phone, electrocute
+yourself, or choke to death. Just see if you can set the transceiver
+on this frequency for me." Brion wrote the number on a scratch
+pad and slid it over to the operator. It was the frequency
+Professor-Commander Krafft had given him for the radio of the
+illegal terrorists--the Nyjord army.
+
+The operator plugged in a handset and gave it to Brion. "Circuit
+open," he mumbled around a mouthful of still unswallowed sandwich.
+
+"This is Brandd, director of the C.R.F. Come in, please." He went on
+repeating this for more than ten minutes before he got an answer.
+
+"_What do you want?_"
+
+"I have a message of vital urgency for you--and I would also like
+your help. Do you want any more information on the radio?
+
+"_No. Wait there--we'll get in touch with you after dark._"
+The carrier wave went dead.
+
+Thirty-five hours to the end of the world--and all he could do was wait.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+On Brion's desk when he came in, were two neat piles of paper. As he
+sat down and reached for them he was conscious of an arctic coldness
+in the air, a frigid blast. It was coming from the air-conditioner
+grill, which was now covered by welded steel bars. The control unit
+was sealed shut. Someone was either being very funny or very
+efficient. Either way, it was cold. Brion kicked at the cover plate
+until it buckled, then bent it aside. After a careful look into the
+interior he disconnected one wire and shorted it to another. He was
+rewarded by a number of sputtering cracks and a quantity of smoke.
+The compressor moaned and expired.
+
+Faussel was standing in the door with more papers, a shocked
+expression on his face. "What do you have there?" Brion asked.
+
+Faussel managed to straighten out his face and brought the folders
+to the desk, arranging them on the piles already there. "These are
+the progress reports you asked for, from all units. Details to date,
+conclusions, suggestions, et cetera."
+
+"And the other pile?" Brion pointed.
+
+"Offplanet correspondence, commissary invoices, requisitions." He
+straightened the edges of the stack while he answered. "Daily
+reports, hospital log...." His voice died away and stopped as Brion
+carefully pushed the stack off the edge of the desk into the
+wastebasket.
+
+"In other words, red tape," Brion said. "Well, it's all filed."
+
+One by one the progress reports followed the first stack into the
+basket, until the desk was clear. Nothing. It was just what he had
+expected. But there had always been the off chance that one of the
+specialists could come up with a new approach. They hadn't; they
+were all too busy specializing.
+
+Outside the sky was darkening. The front entrance guard had been
+told to let in anyone who came asking for the director. There was
+nothing else Brion could do until the Nyjord rebels made contact.
+Irritation bit at him. At least Lea was doing something
+constructive; he could look in on her.
+
+He opened the door to the lab with a feeling of pleasant
+anticipation. It froze and shattered instantly. Her microscope was
+hooded and she was gone. _She's having dinner_, he thought,
+or--_she's in the hospital_. The hospital was on the floor below,
+and he went there first.
+
+"Of course she's here!" Dr. Stine grumbled. "Where else should
+a girl in her condition be? She was out of bed long enough today.
+Tomorrow's the last day, and if you want to get any more work out
+of her before the deadline, you had better let her rest tonight.
+Better let the whole staff rest. I've been handing out tranquilizers
+like aspirin all day. They're falling apart."
+
+"The world's falling apart. How is Lea doing?"
+
+"Considering her shape, she's fine. Go in and see for yourself if
+you won't take my word for it. I have other patients to look at."
+
+"Are you that worried, Doctor?"
+
+"Of course I am! I'm just as prone to the weakness of the flesh as
+the rest of you. We're sitting on a ticking bomb and I don't like
+it. I'll do my job as long as it is necessary, but I'll also be
+damned glad to see the ships land to pull us out. The only skin that
+I really feel emotionally concerned about right now is my own. And
+if you want to be let in on a public secret--the rest of your staff
+feels the same way. So don't look forward to too much efficiency."
+
+"I never did," Brion said to the retreating back.
+
+Lea's room was dark, illuminated only by the light of Dis's moon
+slanting in through the window. Brion let himself in and closed the
+door behind him. Walking quietly, he went over to the bed. Lea was
+sleeping soundly, her breathing gentle and regular. A night's sleep
+now would do as much good as all the medication.
+
+He should have gone then; instead, he sat down in the chair placed
+next to the head of the bed. The guards knew where he was--he could
+wait here just as well as any place else.
+
+It was a stolen moment of peace on a world at the brink of
+destruction. He was grateful for it. Everything looked less harsh
+in the moonlight, and he rubbed some of the tension from his eyes.
+Lea's face was ironed smooth by the light, beautiful and young, a
+direct contrast to everything else on this poisonous world. Her hand
+was outside of the covers and he took it in his own, obeying a
+sudden impulse. Looking out of the window at the desert in the
+distance, he let the peace wash over him, forcing himself to forget
+for the moment that in one more day life would be stripped from this
+planet.
+
+Later, when he looked back at Lea he saw that her eyes were open,
+though she hadn't moved. How long had she been awake? He jerked his
+hand away from hers, feeling suddenly guilty.
+
+"Is the boss-man looking after the serfs, to see if they're fit for
+the treadmills in the morning?" she asked. It was the kind of remark
+she had used with such frequency in the ship, though it didn't sound
+quite as harsh now. And she was smiling. Yet it reminded him too
+well of her superior attitude towards rubes from the stellar sticks.
+Here he might be the director, but on ancient Earth he would be only
+one more gaping, lead-footed yokel.
+
+"How do you feel?" he asked, realizing and hating the triteness of
+the words, even as he said them.
+
+"Terrible. I'll be dead by morning. Reach me a piece of fruit from
+that bowl, will you? My mouth tastes like an old boot heel. I wonder
+how fresh fruit ever got here. Probably a gift to the working
+classes from the smiling planetary murderers on Nyjord."
+
+She took the apple Brion gave her and bit into it. "Did you ever
+think of going to Earth?"
+
+Brion was startled. This was too close to his own thoughts about
+planetary backgrounds. There couldn't possibly be a connection
+though. "Never," he told her. "Up until a few months ago I never
+even considered leaving Anvhar. The Twenties are such a big thing at
+home that it is hard to imagine that anything else exists while you
+are still taking part in them."
+
+"Spare me the Twenties," she pleaded. "After listening to you and
+Ihjel, I know far more about them than I shall ever care to know.
+But what about Anvhar itself? Do you have big city-states as Earth
+does?"
+
+"Nothing like that. For its size, it has a very small population.
+No big cities at all. I guess the largest centers of population
+are around the schools, packing plants, things like that."
+
+"Any exobiologists there?" Lea asked, with a woman's eternal ability
+to make any general topic personal.
+
+"At the universities, I suppose, though I wouldn't know for sure.
+And you must realize that when I say no big cities, I also mean no
+little cities. We aren't organized that way at all. I imagine the
+basic physical unit is the family and the circle of friends. Friends
+get important quickly, since the family breaks up when children are
+still relatively young. Something in the genes, I suppose--we all
+enjoy being alone. I suppose you might call it an inbred survival
+trait."
+
+"Up to a point," she said, biting delicately into the apple. "Carry
+that sort of thing too far and you end up with no population at all.
+A certain amount of proximity is necessary for that."
+
+"Of course it is. And there must be some form of recognized
+relationship or control--that or complete promiscuity. On Anvhar
+the emphasis is on personal responsibility, and that seems to take care
+of the problem. If we didn't have an adult way of looking at ...
+things, our kind of life would be impossible. Individuals are
+brought together either by accident or design, and with this
+proximity must be some certainty of relations...."
+
+"You're losing me," Lea protested. "Either I'm still foggy from
+the dope, or you are suddenly unable to speak a word of less than
+four syllables. You know--whenever this happens with you, I get
+the distinct impression that you are trying to cover up something.
+For Occam's sake, be specific! Bring me together two of these
+hypothetical individuals and tell me what happens."
+
+Brion took a deep breath. He was in over his head and far from
+shore. "Well--take a bachelor like myself. Since I like
+cross-country skiing I make my home in this big house our family
+has, right at the edge of the Broken Hills. In summer I looked after
+a drumtum herd, but after slaughtering my time was my own all
+winter. I did a lot of skiing, and used to work for the Twenties.
+Sometimes I would go visiting. Then again, people would drop in on
+me--houses are few and far between on Anvhar. We don't even have
+locks on our doors. You accept and give hospitality without
+qualification. Whoever comes. Male ... female ... in groups or just
+traveling alone...."
+
+"I get the drift. Life must be dull for a single girl on your
+iceberg planet. She must surely have to stay home a lot."
+
+"Only if she wants to. Otherwise she can go wherever she wishes and
+be welcomed as another individual. I suppose it is out of fashion
+in the rest of the galaxy--and would probably raise a big laugh on
+Earth--but a platonic, disinterested friendship between man and
+woman is an accepted thing on Anvhar."
+
+"Sounds exceedingly dull. If you are all such cool and distant
+friends, how do babies get made?"
+
+Brion felt his ears reddening, not sure if he was being teased or
+not. "The same damn way they get made any place else! But it's not
+just a reflexive process like a couple of rabbits that happen to
+meet under the same bush. It's the woman's choice to indicate if
+she is interested in marriage."
+
+"Is marriage the only thing your women are interested in?"
+
+"Marriage or ... anything else. That's up to the girl. We have a
+special problem on Anvhar--probably the same thing occurs on every
+planet where the human race has made a massive adaptation. Not all
+unions are fertile and there is always a large percentage of
+miscarriages. A large number of births are conceived by artificial
+insemination. Which is all right when you can't have babies
+normally. But most women have an emotional bias towards having
+their husband's children. And there is only one way to find out
+if this is possible."
+
+Lea's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting that your girls see if a man
+can father children _before_ considering marriage?"
+
+"Of course. Otherwise Anvhar would have been depopulated centuries
+ago. Therefore the woman does the choosing. If she is interested in
+a man, she says so. If she is not interested, the man would never
+think of suggesting anything. It's a lot different from other
+planets, but so is our planet Anvhar. It works well for us, which
+is the only test that applies."
+
+"Just about the opposite of Earth," Lea told him, dropping the apple
+core into a dish and carefully licking the tips of her fingers. "I
+guess you Anvharians would describe Earth as a planetary hotbed of
+sexuality. The reverse of your system, and going full blast all the
+time. There are far too many people there for comfort. Birth control
+came late and is still being fought--if you can possibly imagine
+that. There are just too many of the archaic religions still around,
+as well as crackbrained ideas that have been long entrenched in
+custom. The world's overcrowded. Men, women, children, a boiling mob
+wherever you look. And all of the physically mature ones seem to be
+involved in the Great Game of Love. The male is always the
+aggressor. Not physically--at least not often--and women take the
+most outrageous kinds of flattery for granted. At parties there are
+always a couple of hot breaths of passion fanning your neck. A girl
+has to keep her spike heels filed sharp."
+
+"She has to _what_?"
+
+"A figure of speech, Brion. Meaning you fight back all the time,
+if you don't want to be washed under by the flood."
+
+"Sounds rather"--Brion weighed the word before he said it, but
+could find none other suitable--"repellent."
+
+"From your point of view, it would be. I'm afraid we get so used to
+it that we even take it for granted. Sociologically speaking...."
+She stopped and looked at Brion's straight back and almost rigid
+posture. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in an unspoken _oh_
+of sudden realization.
+
+"I'm being a fool," she said. "You weren't speaking generally at
+all! You had a very specific subject in mind. Namely _me_!"
+
+"Please, Lea, you must understand...."
+
+"But I do!" She laughed. "All the time I thought you were being a
+frigid and hard-hearted lump of ice, you were really being very
+sweet. Just playing the game in good old Anvharian style. Waiting
+for a sign from me. We'd still be playing by different rules if you
+hadn't had more sense than I, and finally realized that somewhere
+along the line we must have got our signals mixed. And I thought you
+were some kind of frosty offworld celibate." She let her hand go out
+and her fingers rustled through his hair. Something she had been
+wanting to do for a long time.
+
+"I had to," he said, trying to ignore the light touch of her
+fingers. "Because I thought so much of you, I couldn't have done
+anything to insult you. Such as forcing my attentions on you. Until
+I began to worry where the insult would lie, since I knew nothing
+about your planet's mores."
+
+"Well, you know now," she said very softly. "The men aggress. Now
+that I understand, I think I like your way better. But I'm still not
+sure of all the rules. Do I explain that yes, Brion, I like you so
+very much? You are more man, in one great big wide-shouldered lump,
+than I have ever met before. It's not quite the time or the place
+to discuss marriage, but I would certainly like--"
+
+His arms were around her, holding her to him. Her hands clasped him
+and their lips sought each other's in the darkness.
+
+"Gently ..." she whispered. "I bruise easily...."
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+"He wouldn't come in, sir. Just hammered on the door and said,
+'_I'm here, tell Brandd._'"
+
+"Good enough," Brion said, fitting his gun in the holster and
+sliding the extra clips into his pocket. "I'm going out now, and I
+should return before dawn. Get one of the wheeled stretchers down
+here from the hospital. I'll want it waiting when I get back."
+
+Outside, the street was darker than he remembered. Brion frowned
+and his hand moved towards his gun. Someone had put all the nearby
+lights out of commission. There was just enough illumination from
+the stars to enable him to make out the dark bulk of a sand car.
+
+"Brion Brandd?" a voice spoke harshly from the car. "Get in."
+
+The motor roared as soon as he had closed the door. Without lights
+the sand car churned a path through the city and out into the
+desert. Though the speed picked up, the driver still drove in the
+dark, feeling his way with a light touch on the controls. The ground
+rose, and when they reached the top of a mesa he killed the engine.
+Neither the driver nor Brion had spoken a word since they left.
+
+A switch snapped and the instrument lights came on. In their dim
+glow Brion could just make out the other man's hawklike profile.
+When he moved, Brion saw that his figure was cruelly shortened.
+Either accident or a mutated gene had warped his spine, hunching him
+forward in eternally bent supplication. Warped bodies were rare--his
+was the first Brion had ever seen. He wondered what series of events
+had kept him from medical attention all his life. This might explain
+the bitterness and pain in the man's voice.
+
+"Did the mighty brains on Nyjord bother to tell you that they have
+chopped another day off the deadline?" the man asked. "That this
+world is about to come to an end?"
+
+"Yes, I know," Brion said. "That's why I'm asking your group for
+help. Our time is running out too fast."
+
+The man didn't answer; he merely grunted and gave his full attention
+to the radar pings and glowing screen. The electronic senses reached
+out as he made a check on all the search frequencies to see if they
+were being followed.
+
+"Where are we going?" Brion asked.
+
+"Out into the desert." The driver made a vague wave of his hand.
+"Headquarters of the army. Since the whole thing will be blown up in
+another day, I guess I can tell you it's the only camp we have. All
+the cars, men and weapons are based there. And Hys. He's the man in
+charge. Tomorrow it will be all gone--along with this cursed planet.
+What's your business with us?"
+
+"Shouldn't I be telling Hys that?"
+
+"Suit yourself." Satisfied with the instrument search, the driver
+kicked the car to life again and churned on across the desert. "But
+we're a volunteer army and we have no secrets from each other. Just
+from the fools at home who are going to kill this world." There was
+a bitterness in his words that he made no attempt to conceal. "They
+fought among themselves and put off a firm decision so long that now
+they are forced to commit murder."
+
+"From what I had heard, I thought that it was the other way around.
+They call your Nyjord army terrorists."
+
+"We are. Because we are an army and we're at war. The idealists at
+home only understood that when it was too late. If they had backed
+us in the beginning we would have blown open every black castle on
+Dis, searched until we found those bombs. But that would have meant
+wanton destruction and death. They wouldn't consider that. Now they
+are going to kill everyone, destroy everything." He flicked on the
+panel lights just long enough to take a compass bearing, and Brion
+saw the tortured unhappiness in his twisted body.
+
+"It's not over yet," Brion said. "There is more than a day left,
+and I think I'm onto something that might stop the war--without
+any bombs being dropped."
+
+"You're in charge of the Cultural Relationships Free Bread and
+Blankets Foundation, aren't you? What good can your bunch do when
+the shooting starts?"
+
+"None. But maybe we can put off the shooting. If you are trying to
+insult me--don't bother. My irritation quotient is very high."
+
+The driver merely grunted at this, slowing down as they ran through
+a field of broken rock. "What is it you want?" he asked.
+
+"We want to make a detailed examination of one of the magter. Alive
+or dead, it doesn't make any difference. You wouldn't happen to have
+one around?"
+
+"No. We've fought with them often enough, but always on their home
+grounds. They keep all their casualties, and a good number of ours.
+What good will it do you anyway? A dead one won't tell you where the
+bombs or the jump-space projector is."
+
+"I don't see why I should explain that to you--unless you are in
+charge. You are Hys, aren't you?"
+
+The driver gave an angry sound, and then was silent while he drove.
+Finally he asked, "What makes you think that?"
+
+"Call it a hunch. You don't act very much like a sand-car driver,
+for one thing. Of course your army may be all generals and no
+privates--but I doubt it. I also know that time has almost run out
+for all of us. This is a long ride and it would be a complete waste
+of time if you just sat out in the desert and waited for me. By
+driving me yourself you could make your mind up before we arrived.
+Could have a decision ready as to whether you are going to help me
+or not. Are you?"
+
+"Yes--I'm Hys. But you still haven't answered my question. What do
+you want the body for?"
+
+"We're going to cut it open and take a good long look. I don't think
+the magter are human. They are something living among men and
+disguised as men--but still not human."
+
+"Secret aliens?" Hys exploded the words in a mixture of surprise
+and disgust.
+
+"Perhaps. The examination will tell us that."
+
+"You're either stupid or incompetent," Hys said bitterly. "The heat
+of Dis has cooked your brains in your head. I'll be no part of this
+kind of absurd plan."
+
+"You must," Brion said, surprised at his own calmness. He could
+sense the other man's interest hidden behind his insulting manner.
+"I don't even have to give you my reasons. In another day this world
+ends and you have no way to stop it. I just might have an idea that
+could work, and you can't afford to take any chances--not if you are
+really sincere. Either you are a murderer, killing Disans for
+pleasure, or you honestly want to stop the war. Which is it?"
+
+"You'll have your body all right," Hys grated, hurling the car
+viciously around a spire of rock. "Not that it will accomplish
+anything--but I can find no fault with killing another magter. We
+can fit your operation into our plans without any trouble. This is
+the last night and I have sent every one of my teams out on raids.
+We're breaking into as many magter towers as possible before dawn.
+There is a slim chance that we might uncover something. It's really
+just shooting in the dark, but it's all we can do now. My own team
+is waiting and you can ride along with us. The others left earlier.
+We're going to hit a small tower on this side of the city. We raided
+it once before and captured a lot of small arms they had stored
+there. There is a good chance that they may have been stupid enough
+to store something there again. Sometimes the magter seem to suffer
+from a complete lack of imagination."
+
+"You have no idea just how right you are," Brion told him.
+
+The sand car slowed down now, as they approached a slab-sided mesa
+that rose vertically from the desert. They crunched across broken
+rocks, leaving no tracks. A light blinked on the dashboard, and Hys
+stopped instantly and killed the engine. They climbed out,
+stretching and shivering in the cold desert night.
+
+It was dark walking in the shadow of the cliff and they had to feel
+their way along a path through the tumbled boulders. A sudden blaze
+of light made Brion wince and shield his eyes. Near him, on the
+ground, was the humming shape of a cancellation projector, sending
+out a fan-shaped curtain of vibration that absorbed all the light
+rays falling upon it. This incredible blackness made a lightproof
+wall for the recessed hollow at the foot of the cliff. In this
+shelter, under the overhang of rock, were three open sand cars. They
+were large and armor-plated, warlike in their scarred grey paint.
+Men sprawled, talked, and polished their weapons. Everything stopped
+when Hys and Brion appeared.
+
+"Load up," Hys called out. "We're going to attack now, same plan I
+outlined earlier. Get Telt over here." In talking to his own men
+some of the harshness was gone from his voice. The tall soldiers of
+Nyjord moved in ready obeyance of their commander. They loomed over
+his bent figure, most of them twice as tall as he, but there was no
+hesitation in jumping when he commanded. They were the body of the
+Nyjord striking force--he was the brains.
+
+A square-cut, compact man rolled up to Hys and saluted with a
+leisurely flick of his hand. He was weighted and slung about with
+packs and electronic instruments. His pockets bulged with small
+tools and spare parts.
+
+"This is Telt," Hys said to Brion. "He'll take care of you. Telt's
+my personal technical squad. He goes along on all my operations with
+his meters to test the interiors of the Disan forts. So far he's
+found no trace of a jump-space generator, or excess radioactivity
+that might indicate a bomb. Since he's useless and you're useless,
+you both take care of each other. Use the car we came in."
+
+Telt's wide face split in a froglike grin; his voice was hoarse and
+throaty. "Wait. Just wait! Someday those needles gonna flicker and
+all our troubles be over. What you want me to do with the stranger?"
+
+"Supply him with a corpse--one of the magter," Hys said. "Take it
+wherever he wants and then report back here." Hys scowled at Telt.
+"Someday your needles will flicker! Poor fool--this is the last
+day." He turned away and waved the men into their sand cars.
+
+"He likes me," Telt said, attaching a final piece of equipment.
+"You can tell because he calls me names like that. He's a great man,
+Hys is, but they never found out until it was too late. Hand me that
+meter, will you?"
+
+Brion followed the technician out to the car and helped him load his
+equipment aboard. When the larger cars appeared out of the darkness,
+Telt swung around after them. They snaked forward in a single line
+through the rocks, until they came to the desert of rolling sand
+dunes. Then they spread out in line abreast and rushed towards their
+goal.
+
+Telt hummed to himself hoarsely as he drove. He broke off suddenly
+and looked at Brion. "What you want the dead Dis for?"
+
+"A theory," Brion answered sluggishly. He had been half napping in
+the chair, taking the opportunity for some rest before the attack.
+"I'm still looking for a way to avert the end."
+
+"You and Hys," Telt said with satisfaction. "Couple of idealists.
+Trying to stop a war you didn't start. They never would listen to
+Hys. He told them in the beginning exactly what would happen, and
+he was right. They always thought his ideas were crooked, like him.
+Growing up alone in the hill camp, with his back too twisted and too
+old to be fixed when he finally did come out. Ideas twisted the same
+way. Made himself an authority on war. Hah! War on Nyjord--that's
+like being an ice-cube specialist in hell. But he knew all about it,
+though they never would let him use what he knew. Put granddaddy
+Krafft in charge instead."
+
+"But Hys is in charge of an army now?"
+
+"All volunteers, too few of them and too little money. Too little
+and too damned late to do any good. I'll tell you we did our best,
+but it could never be good enough. And for this we get called
+butchers." There was a catch in Telt's voice now, an undercurrent of
+emotion he couldn't suppress. "At home they think we like to kill.
+Think we're insane. They can't understand we're doing the only thing
+that has to be done--"
+
+He broke off as he quickly locked on the brakes and killed the
+engine. The line of sand cars had come to a stop. Ahead, just
+visible over the dunes, was the summit of a dark tower.
+
+"We walk from here," Telt said, standing and stretching. "We can
+take our time, because the other boys go in first, soften things up.
+Then you and I head for the sub-cellar for a radiation check and
+find you a handsome corpse."
+
+Walking at first, then crawling when the dunes no longer shielded
+them, they crept up on the Disan keep. Dark figures moved ahead of
+them, stopping only when they reached the crumbling black walls.
+They didn't use the ascending ramp, but made their way up the sheer
+outside face of the ramparts.
+
+"Line-throwers," Telt whispered. "Anchor themselves when the missile
+hits, have some kind of quick-setting goo. Then we go up the
+filament with a line-climbing motor. Hys invented them."
+
+"Is that the way you and I are going in?" Brion asked.
+
+"No, we get out of the climbing. I told you we hit this rock once
+before. I know the layout inside." He was moving while he talked,
+carefully pacing the distance around the base of the tower. "Should
+be right about here."
+
+High-pitched keening sliced the air and the top of the magter
+building burst into flame. Automatic weapons hammered above them.
+Something fell silently through the night and hit heavily on the
+ground near them.
+
+"Attack's started," Telt shouted. "We have to get through now,
+while all the creepies are fighting it out on top." He pulled
+a plate-shaped object from one of his bags and slapped it hard
+against the wall. It hung there. He twisted the back of it, pulled
+something and waved Brion to the ground. "Shaped charge. Should blow
+straight in, but you never can tell."
+
+The ground jumped under them and the ringing thud was a giant fist
+punching through the wall. A cloud of dust and smoke rolled clear
+and they could see the dark opening in the rock, a tunnel driven
+into the wall by the directional force of the explosion. Telt shone
+a light through the hole at the crumbled chamber inside.
+
+"Nothing to worry about from anybody who was leaning against this
+wall. But let's get in and out of this black beehive before the ones
+upstairs come down to investigate."
+
+Shattered rock was thick on the floor, and they skidded and tumbled
+over it. Telt pointed the way with his light, down a sharply angled
+ramp. "Underground chambers in the rock. They always store their
+stuff down there--"
+
+A smoking, black sphere arced out of the tunnel's mouth, hitting at
+their feet. Telt just gaped, but even as it hit the floor Brion was
+jumping forward. He caught it with the side of his foot, kicking it
+back into the dark opening of the tunnel. Telt hit the ground next
+to him as the orange flame of an explosion burst below. Bits of
+shrapnel rattled from the ceiling and wall behind them.
+
+"Grenades!" Telt gasped. "They've only used them once before--can't
+have many. Gotta warn Hys." He plugged a throat mike into the
+transmitter on his tack and spoke quickly into it. There was a
+stirring below and Brion poured a rain of fire into the tunnel.
+
+"They're catching it bad on top, too! We gotta pull out. Go first
+and I'll cover you."
+
+"I came for my Disan--I'm not leaving until I get one."
+
+"You're crazy! You're dead if you stay!"
+
+Telt was scrambling back towards the crumbled entrance as he talked.
+His back was turned when Brion fired. The magter had appeared
+silently as the shadow of death. They charged without a sound,
+running with expressionless faces into the bullets. Two died at
+once, curling and folding; the third one fell at Brion's feet. Shot,
+pierced, dying, but not yet dead. Leaving a crimson track, it
+hunched closer, lifting its knife to Brion. He didn't move. How many
+times must you murder a man? Or was it a man? His mind and body
+rebelled against the killing, and he was almost ready to accept
+death himself, rather than kill again.
+
+Telt's bullets tore through the body and it dropped with grim finality.
+
+"There's your corpse--now get it out of here!" Telt screeched.
+
+Between them they worked the sodden weight of the dead magter
+through the hole, their exposed backs crawling with the expectation
+of instant death. No further attack came as they ran from the tower,
+other than a grenade that exploded too far behind them to do any
+harm.
+
+One of the armored sand cars circled the keep, headlights blazing,
+keeping up a steady fire from its heavy weapons. The attackers
+climbed into it as they beat a retreat. Telt and Brion dragged
+the Disan behind them, struggling through the loose sand towards
+the circling car. Telt glanced over his shoulder and broke into
+a shambling run.
+
+"They're following us!" he gasped. "The first time they ever chased
+us after a raid!"
+
+"They must know we have the body," Brion said.
+
+"Leave it behind ..." Telt choked. "Too heavy to carry ... anyway!"
+
+"I'd rather leave you," Brion said sharply. "Let me have it." He
+pulled the corpse away from the unresisting Telt and heaved it
+across his own shoulders. "Now use your gun to cover us!"
+
+Telt threw a rain of slugs back towards the dark figures following
+them. The driver of the sand car must have seen the flare of their
+fire, because the truck turned and started towards them. It braked
+in a choking cloud of dust and ready hands reached to pull them up.
+Brion pushed the body in ahead of himself and scrambled after it.
+The truck engine throbbed and they churned away into the blackness,
+away from the gutted tower.
+
+"You know, that was more like kind of a joke, when I said I'd leave
+the corpse behind," Telt told Brion. "You didn't believe me, did
+you?"
+
+"Yes," Brion said, holding the dead weight of the magter against
+the truck's side. "I thought you meant it."
+
+"Ahhh," Telt protested, "you're as bad as Hys. You take things
+too seriously."
+
+Brion suddenly realized that he was wet with blood, his clothing
+sodden. His stomach rose at the thought and he clutched the edge of
+the sand car. Killing like this was too personal. Talking
+abstractedly about a body was one thing, but murdering a man, then
+lifting his dead flesh and feeling his blood warm upon you is an
+entirely different matter. But the magter weren't human, he knew
+that. The thought was only mildly comforting.
+
+After they had reached the other waiting sand cars, the raiding
+party split up. "Each one goes in a different direction," Telt said,
+"so they can't track us to the base." He clipped a piece of paper
+next to the compass and kicked the motor into life. "We'll make a
+big U in the desert and end up in Hovedstad. I got the course here.
+Then I'll dump you and your friends and beat it back to our camp.
+You're not still burned at me for what I said, are you? Are you?"
+
+Brion didn't answer. He was staring fixedly out of the side window.
+
+"What's doing?" Telt asked. Brion pointed out at the rushing darkness.
+
+"Over there," he said, pointing to the growing light on the horizon.
+
+"Dawn," Telt said. "Lotta rain on your planet? Didn't you ever see
+the sun come up before?"
+
+"Not on the last day of a world."
+
+"Lock it up," Telt grumbled. "You give me the crawls. I know they're
+going to be blasted. But at least I know I did everything I could to
+stop it. How do you think they are going to be feeling at home--on
+Nyjord--from tomorrow on?"
+
+"Maybe we can still stop it," Brion said, shrugging off the feeling
+of gloom. Telt's only answer was a wordless sound of disgust.
+
+By the time they had cut a large loop in the desert the sun was well
+up in the sky, the daily heat begun. Their course took them through
+a chain of low, flinty hills that cut their speed almost to zero.
+They ground ahead in low gear while Telt sweated and cursed,
+struggling with the controls. Then they were on firm sand and
+picking up speed towards the city.
+
+As soon as Brion saw Hovedstad clearly he felt a clutch of fear.
+From somewhere in the city a black plume of smoke was rising. It
+could have been one of the deserted buildings aflame, a minor blaze.
+Yet the closer they came, the greater his tension grew. Brion didn't
+dare put it into words himself; it was Telt who vocalized the
+thought.
+
+"A fire or something. Coming from your area, somewhere close to
+your building."
+
+Within the city they saw the first signs of destruction. Broken
+rubble on the streets. The smell of greasy smoke in their nostrils.
+More and more people appeared, going in the same direction they
+were. The normally deserted streets of Hovedstad were now almost
+crowded. Disans, obvious by their bare shoulders, mixed with the
+few offworlders who still remained.
+
+Brion made sure the tarpaulin was well wrapped around the body
+before they pushed the sand car slowly through the growing crowd.
+
+"I don't like all this publicity," Telt complained, looking at the
+people. "It's the last day, or I'd be turning back. They know our
+cars; we've raided them often enough." Turning a corner, he braked
+suddenly, mouth agape.
+
+Ahead was destruction. Black, broken rubble had been churned into
+desolation. It was still smoking, pink tongues of flame licking over
+the ruins. A fragment of wall fell with a rumbling crash.
+
+"It's your building--the Foundation building!" Telt shouted.
+"They've been here ahead of us--must have used the radio to call
+a raid. They did a job, explosive of some kind."
+
+Hope was dead. Dis was dead. In the ruin ahead, mixed and broken
+with other rubble, were the bodies of all the people who had trusted
+him. Lea ... beautiful and cruelly dead Lea. Doctor Stine, his
+patients, Faussel, all of them. He had kept them on this planet,
+and now they were dead. Every one of them. Dead.
+
+Murderer!
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+Life was ended. Brion's mind contained nothing but despair and the
+pain of irretrievable loss. If his brain had been completely the
+master of his body he would have died there, for at that moment
+there was no will to live. Unaware of this, his heart continued to
+beat and the regular motion of his lungs drew in the dreadful
+sweetness of the smoke-tainted air. With automatic directness
+his body lived on.
+
+"What you gonna do?" Telt asked, even his natural exuberation
+stilled by this. Brion only shook his head as the words penetrated.
+What could he do? What could possibly be done?
+
+"Follow me," a voice said in guttural Disan through the opening of
+a rear window. The speaker was lost in the crowd before they could
+turn. Aware now, Brion saw a native move away from the edge of the
+crowd and turn to look in their direction. It was Ulv.
+
+"Turn the car--that way!" He punched Telt's arm and pointed. "Do it
+slowly and don't draw any attention to us." For a moment there was
+hope, which he kept himself from considering. The building was gone,
+and the people in it all dead. That fact had to be faced.
+
+"What's going on?" Telt asked. "Who was that talked in the window?"
+
+"A native--that one up ahead. He saved my life in the desert, and
+I think he is on our side. Even though he's a native Disan, he can
+understand facts that the magter can't. He knows what will happen
+to this planet." Brion was talking to fill his brain with words so
+he wouldn't begin to have hope. There was no hope possible.
+
+Ulv moved slowly and naturally through the streets, never looking
+back. They followed, as far behind as they dared, yet still keeping
+him in sight. Fewer people were about here among the deserted
+offworld storehouses. Ulv vanished into one of these; LIGHT METALS
+TRUST LTD., the sign read above the door. Telt slowed the car.
+
+"Don't stop here," Brion said. "Drive around the corner, and pull up."
+
+Brion climbed out of the car with an ease he did not feel. No one
+was in sight now, in either direction. Walking slowly back to the
+corner, he checked the street they had just left. Hot, silent and
+empty.
+
+A sudden blackness appeared where the door of the warehouse had
+been, and the sudden flickering motion of a hand. Brion signaled
+Telt to start, and jumped into the already moving sand car.
+
+"Into that open door--quickly, before anyone sees us!" The car
+rumbled down a ramp into the dark interior and the door slid shut
+behind them.
+
+"Ulv! What is it? Where are you?" Brion called, blinking in the
+murky interior. A grey form appeared beside him.
+
+"I am here."
+
+"Did you--" There was no way to finish the sentence.
+
+"I heard of the raid. The magter called together all of us they
+could to help them carry explosive. I went along. I could not stop
+them, and there was no time to warn anyone in the building."
+
+"Then they are all dead?"
+
+"Yes," Ulv nodded. "All except one. I knew I could perhaps save one;
+I was not sure who. So I took the woman you were with in the
+desert--she is here now. She was hurt, but not badly, when I brought
+her out."
+
+Guilty relief flooded through Brion. He shouldn't exult, not with
+the death of everyone in the Foundation still fresh in his mind.
+But at that instant he was happy.
+
+"Let me see her," he said to Ulv. He was seized by the sudden fear
+that there might be a mistake. Perhaps Ulv had saved a different
+woman.
+
+Ulv led the way across the empty loading bay. Brion followed
+closely, fighting down the temptation to tell him to hurry. When he
+saw that Ulv was heading towards an office in the far wall, he could
+control himself no longer and ran on ahead.
+
+It was Lea, lying unconscious on a couch. Sweat beaded her face and
+she moaned and stirred without opening her eyes.
+
+"I gave her _sover_, then wrapped her in cloth so no one would
+know," Ulv said.
+
+Telt was close behind them, looking in through the open door.
+
+"_Sover_ is a drug they take from one of their plants," he said.
+"We got a lot of experience with it. A little makes a good knock-out
+drug, but it's deadly poison in large doses. I got the antidote in
+the car; wait and I'll get it." He went out.
+
+Brion sat next to Lea and wiped her face clean of dirt and
+perspiration. The dark shadows under her eyes were almost black now
+and her elfin face seemed even thinner. But she was alive--that was
+the important thing.
+
+Some of the tension drained away from Brion and he could think
+again. There was still the job to do. After this last experience Lea
+should be in a hospital bed. But this was impossible. He would have
+to drag her to her feet and put her back to work. The answer might
+still be found. Each second ticked away another fraction of the
+planet's life.
+
+"Good as new in a minute," Telt said, banging down the heavy med
+box. He watched intently as Ulv left the room. "Hys should
+know about this renegade. Might be useful as a spy, or for
+information--though of course it's too late now to do anything, so
+the hell with it." He pulled a pistol-shaped hypodermic gun from the
+box and dialed a number on the side. "Now, if you'll roll her sleeve
+up I'll bring her back to life." He pressed the bell-shaped
+sterilizing muzzle against her skin and pulled the trigger. The hypo
+gun hummed briefly, ending its cycle with a loud click.
+
+"Does it work fast?" Brion asked.
+
+"Couple of minutes. Just let her be and she'll come to by herself."
+
+Ulv was in the doorway. "Killer!" he hissed. His blowgun was in his
+hand, half raised to his mouth.
+
+"He's been in the car--he's seen it!" Telt shouted and grabbed for
+his gun.
+
+Brion sprang between them, raising his hands. "Stop it! No more
+killing!" he shouted in Disan. Then he shook his fist at Telt.
+"Fire that gun and I'll stuff it down your throat. I'll handle this."
+He turned to face Ulv, who hadn't brought the blowgun any closer to
+his lips. This was a good sign--the Disan was still uncertain.
+
+"You have seen the body in the car, Ulv. So you must have seen that
+it is that of a magter. I killed him myself, because I would rather
+kill one, or ten, or even a hundred men than have everyone on this
+planet destroyed. I killed him in a fair fight and now I am going
+to examine his body. There is something very strange and different
+about the magter, you know that yourself. If I can find out what it
+is, perhaps we can make them stop this war, and not bomb Nyjord."
+
+Ulv was still angry, but he lowered the blowgun a little. "I wish
+there were no offworlders," he said. "I wish that none of you had
+ever come. Nothing was wrong until you started coming. The magter
+were the strongest, and they killed; but they also helped. Now they
+want to fight a war with your weapons, and for this you are going to
+kill my world. And you want me to help you!"
+
+"Not me--yourself!" Brion said wearily. "There's no going back,
+that's the one thing we can't do. Maybe Dis would have been better
+off without offplanet contact. Maybe not. In any case, you have to
+forget about that. You have contact now with the rest of the galaxy,
+for better or for worse. You've got a problem to solve, and I'm here
+to help you solve it."
+
+Seconds ticked by as Ulv, unmoving, fought with questions that were
+novel to his life. Could killing stop death? Could he help his
+people by helping strangers to fight and kill them? His world had
+changed and he didn't like it. He must make a giant effort to change
+with it.
+
+Abruptly, he pushed the blowgun into a thong at his waist, turned
+and strode out.
+
+"Too much for my nerves," Telt said, settling his gun back in the
+holster. "You don't know how happy I'm gonna be when this whole damn
+thing is over. Even if the planet goes bang, I don't care. I'm
+finished." He walked out to the sand car, keeping a careful eye
+on the Disan crouched against the wall.
+
+Brion turned back to Lea, whose eyes were open, staring at the
+ceiling. He went to her.
+
+"Running," she said, and her voice had a toneless emptiness that
+screamed louder than any emotion. "They ran by the open door of my
+room and I could see them when they killed Dr. Stine. Just butchered
+him like an animal, chopping him down. Then one came into the room
+and that's all I remember." She turned her head slowly and looked at
+Brion. "What happened? Why am I here?"
+
+"They're ... dead," he told her. "All of them. After the raid the
+Disans blew up the building. You're the only one that survived.
+That was Ulv who came into your room, the Disan we met in the desert.
+He brought you away and hid you here in the city."
+
+"When do we leave?" she asked in the same empty tones, turning
+her face to the wall. "When do we get off this planet?"
+
+"Today is the last day. The deadline is midnight. Krafft will have
+a ship pick us up when we are ready. But we still have our job to do.
+I've got that body. You're going to have to examine it. We must
+find out about the magter...."
+
+"Nothing can be done now except leave." Her voice was a dull
+monotone. "There is only so much that a person can do, and I've done
+it. Please have the ship come; I want to leave now."
+
+Brion bit his lip in helpless frustration. Nothing seemed to
+penetrate the apathy into which she had sunk. Too much shock, too
+much terror, in too short a time. He took her chin in his hand and
+turned her head to face him. She didn't resist, but her eyes were
+shining with tears; tears trickled down her cheeks.
+
+"Take me home, Brion, please take me home."
+
+He could only brush her sodden hair back from her face, and force
+himself to smile at her. The moments of time were running out,
+faster and faster, and he no longer knew what to do. The examination
+had to be made--yet he couldn't force her. He looked for the med box
+and saw that Telt had taken it back to the sand car. There might be
+something in it that could help--a tranquilizer perhaps.
+
+Telt had some of his instruments open on the chart table and was
+examining a tape with a pocket magnifier when Brion entered. He
+jumped nervously and put the tape behind his back, then relaxed when
+he saw who it was.
+
+"I thought you were the creepie out there, coming for a look," he
+whispered. "Maybe you trust him--but I can't afford to. Can't even
+use the radio. I'm getting out of here now. I have to tell Hys!"
+
+"Tell him what?" Brion asked sharply. "What is all the mystery
+about?"
+
+Telt handed him the magnifier and tape. "Look at that--recording
+tape from my scintillation counter. Red verticals are five-minute
+intervals, the wiggly black horizontal line is the radioactivity
+level. All this where the line goes up and down, that's when we were
+driving out to the attack. Varying hot level of the rock and
+ground."
+
+"What's the big peak in the middle?"
+
+"That coincides exactly with our visit to the house of horrors!
+When we went through the hole in the bottom of the tower!" He
+couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice.
+
+"Does it mean that...."
+
+"I don't know. I'm not sure. I have to compare it with the other
+tapes back at base. It could be the stone of the tower--some of
+these heavy rocks have got a high natural count. There maybe could
+be a box of instruments there with fluorescent dials. Or it might be
+one of those tactical atom bombs they threw at us already. Some arms
+runner sold them a few."
+
+"Or it could be the cobalt bombs?"
+
+"It could be," Telt said, packing his instruments swiftly. "A badly
+shielded bomb, or an old one with a crack in the skin, could give
+a trace like that. Just a little radon leaking out would do it."
+
+"Why don't you call Hys on the radio and let him know?"
+
+"I don't want Granddaddy Krafft's listening posts to hear about it.
+This is our job--if I'm right. And I have to check my old tapes to
+make sure. But it's gonna be worth a raid, I can feel that in my
+bones. Let's unload your corpse." He helped Brion with the clumsy,
+wrapped bundle, then slipped into the driver's seat.
+
+"Hold it," Brion said. "Do you have anything in the med box I can
+use for Lea? She seems to have cracked. Not hysterical, but
+withdrawn. Won't listen to reason, won't do anything but lie there
+and ask to go home."
+
+"Got the potion here," Telt said, cracking the med box.
+"Slaughter-syndrome is what our medic calls it. Hit a lot of our
+boys. Grow up all your life hating the idea of violence, and it goes
+rough when you have to start killing people. Guys break up, break
+down, go to pieces lots of different ways. The medic mixed up this
+stuff. Don't know how it works, probably tranquilizers and some of
+the cortex drugs. But it peels off recent memories. Maybe for the
+last ten, twelve hours. You can't get upset about what you don't
+remember." He pulled out a sealed package. "Directions on the box.
+Good luck."
+
+"Luck," Brion said, and shook the technician's calloused hand.
+"Let me know if the traces are strong enough to be bombs." He checked
+the street to make sure it was clear, then pressed the door button.
+The sand car churned out into the brilliant sunshine and was gone,
+the throb of its motor dying in the distance. Brion closed the door
+and went back to Lea. Ulv was still crouched against the wall.
+
+There was a one-shot disposable hypodermic in the box. Lea made
+no protest when he broke the seal and pressed the needle against
+her arm. She sighed and her eyes closed again.
+
+When he saw she was resting easily, he dragged in the
+tarpaulin-wrapped body of the magter. A work-bench ran along one
+wall and he struggled the corpse up onto it. He unwrapped the
+tarpaulin and the sightless eyes stared accusingly up into his.
+
+Using his knife, Brion cut away the loose, blood-soaked clothing.
+Strapped under the clothes, around the man's waist, was the familiar
+collection of Disan artifacts. This could have significance either
+way. Human or humanoid, the creature would still have to live on
+Dis. Brion threw it aside, along with the clothing. Nude, pierced,
+bloody, the corpse lay before him.
+
+In every external physical detail the man was human.
+
+Brion's theory was becoming more preposterous with each discovery.
+If the magter weren't alien, how could he explain their complete lack
+of emotions? A mutation of some kind? He didn't see how it was
+possible. There _had_ to be something alien about the dead man
+before him. The future of a world rested on this flimsy hope. If
+Telt's lead to the bombs proved to be false, there would be no hope
+left at all.
+
+Lea was still unconscious when he looked at her again. There was no
+way of telling how long the coma would last. He would probably have
+to waken her out of it, but he didn't want to do it too early. It
+took an effort to control his impatience, even though he knew the
+drug needed time in which to work. He finally decided on at least a
+minimum of an hour before he should try to disturb her. That would
+be noon--twelve hours before destruction.
+
+One thing he should do was to get in touch with Professor-Commander
+Krafft. Maybe it was being defeatist, but he had to make sure that
+they had a way off this planet if the mission failed. Krafft had
+installed a relay radio that would forward calls from his personal
+set. If this relay had been in the Foundation building, contact was
+broken. This had to be found out before it was too late. Brion
+thumbed on his radio and sent the call. The reply came back
+instantly.
+
+"This is fleet communications. Will you please keep this circuit
+open? Commander Krafft is waiting for this call and it is being put
+directly through to him now." Krafft's voice broke in while the
+operator was still talking.
+
+"Who is making this call--is it anyone from the Foundation?"
+The old man's voice was shaky with emotion.
+
+"Brandd here. I have Lea Morees with me...."
+
+"No more? Are there no other survivors from the disaster that
+destroyed your building?"
+
+"That's it, other than us it's a ... complete loss. With the
+building and all the instruments gone, I have no way to contact our
+ship in orbit. Can you arrange to get us out of here if necessary?"
+
+"Give me your location. A ship is coming now--"
+
+"I don't need a ship now," Brion interrupted. "Don't send it until
+I call. If there is a way to stop your destruction I'll find it.
+So I'm staying--to the last minute if necessary."
+
+Krafft was silent. There was only the crackle of an open mike and
+the sound of breathing. "That is your decision," he said finally.
+"I'll have a ship standing by. But won't you let us take Miss Morees
+out now?"
+
+"No. I need her here. We are still working, looking for--"
+
+"What answer can you find that could possibly avert destruction
+now?" His tone was between hope and despair. Brion couldn't help
+him.
+
+"If I succeed--you'll know. Otherwise, that will be the end of it.
+End of Transmission." He switched the radio off.
+
+Lea was sleeping easily when he looked at her, and there was still
+a good part of the hour left before he could wake her. How could
+he put it to use? She would need tools, instruments to examine the
+corpse, and there were certainly none here. Perhaps he could find
+some in the ruins of the Foundation building. With this thought
+he had the sudden desire to see the wreckage up close. There might
+be other survivors. He had to find out. If he could talk to the men
+he had seen working there....
+
+Ulv was still crouched against the wall in the outer room.
+He looked up angrily when Brion came over, but said nothing.
+
+"Will you help me again?" Brion asked. "Stay and watch the girl
+while I go out. I'll be back at noon." Ulv didn't answer. "I am
+still looking for the way to save Dis," Brion added.
+
+"Go--I'll watch the girl!" Ulv spat words in impotent fury. "I do
+not know what to do. You may be right. Go. She will be safe with me."
+
+Brion slipped out into the deserted street and, half running, half
+walking, made his way towards the rubble that had been the Cultural
+Relationships Foundation. He used a different course from the one
+they had come by, striking first towards the outer edge of the city.
+Once there, he could swing and approach from the other side, so
+there would be no indication where he had come from. The magter
+might be watching and he didn't want to lead them to Lea and the
+stolen body.
+
+Turning a corner, he saw a sand car stopped in the street ahead.
+There was something familiar about the lines of it. It could be the
+one he and Telt had used, but he wasn't sure. He looked around, but
+the dusty, packed-dirt street was white and empty, shimmering in
+silence under the sun. Staying close to the wall and watching
+carefully, Brion slipped towards the car. When he came close behind
+it he was positive it was the one he had been in the night before.
+What was it doing here?
+
+Silence and heat filled the street. Windows and doors were empty,
+and there was no motion in their shadows. Putting his foot on a
+bogey wheel, he reached up and grabbed the searing metal rim of the
+open window. He pulled himself up and stared at Telt's smiling face.
+
+Smiling in death. The lips pulled back to reveal the grinning teeth,
+the eyes bursting from the head, the features swollen and contorted
+from the deadly poison. A tiny, tufted dart of wood stuck in the
+brown flesh on the side of his neck.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+Brion hurled himself backward and sprawled flat in the dust and
+filth of the road. No poison dart sought him out; the empty silence
+still reigned. Telt's murderers had come and gone. Moving quickly,
+using the bulk of the car as a shield, he opened the door and
+slipped inside.
+
+They had done a thorough job of destruction. All of the controls had
+been battered into uselessness, the floor was a junk heap of crushed
+equipment, intertwined with loops of recording tape bulging like
+mechanical intestines. A gutted machine, destroyed like its driver.
+
+It was easy enough to reconstruct what had happened. The car had
+been seen when they entered the city--probably by some of the magter
+who had destroyed the Foundation building. They had not seen where
+it had gone, or Brion would surely be dead by now. But they must
+have spotted it when Telt tried to leave the city--and stopped it in
+the most effective way possible, a dart through the open window into
+the unsuspecting driver's neck.
+
+Telt dead! The brutal impact of the man's death had driven all
+thought of its consequences from Brion's mind. Now he began to
+realize. Telt had never sent word of his discovery of the
+radioactive trace to the Nyjord army. He had been afraid to use
+the radio, and had wanted to tell Hys in person, and to show him
+the tape. Only now the tape was torn and mixed with all the others,
+the brain that could have analyzed it dead.
+
+Brion looked at the dangling entrails of the radio and spun for the
+door. Running swiftly and erratically, he fled from the sand car.
+His own survival and the possible survival of Dis depended on his
+not being seen near it. He must contact Hys and pass on the
+information. Until he did that, he was the only offworlder on Dis
+who knew which magter tower might contain the world-destroying
+bombs.
+
+Once out of sight of the sand car he went more slowly, wiping the
+sweat from his streaming face. He hadn't been seen leaving the car,
+and he wasn't being followed. The streets here weren't familiar, but
+he checked his direction by the sun and walked at a steady fast pace
+towards the destroyed building. More of the native Disans were in
+the streets now. They all noticed him, some even stopped and scowled
+fiercely at him. With his emphatic awareness he felt their anger and
+hatred. A knot of men radiated death, and he put his hand on his gun
+as he passed them. Two of them had their blowguns ready, but didn't
+use them. By the time he had turned the next corner he was soaked
+with nervous perspiration.
+
+Ahead was the rubble of the destroyed building. Grounded next to it
+was the tapered form of a spacer's pinnace. Two men had come from
+the open lock and were standing at the edge of the burnt area.
+
+Brion's boots grated loudly on the broken wreckage. The men turned
+quickly towards him, guns raised. Both of them carried ion rifles.
+They relaxed when they saw his offworld clothes.
+
+"Bloody damned savages!" one of them growled. He was a heavy-planet
+man, a squashed-down column of muscle and gristle, whose head barely
+reached Brion's chest. A pushed-back cap had the crossed slide-rule
+symbol of ship's computer man.
+
+"Can't blame them, I guess," the second man said. He wore purser's
+insignia. His features were different, but with the same compacted
+body the two men were as physically alike as twins. Probably from
+the same home planet. "They're gonna get their whole world blown out
+from under them at midnight. Looks as if the poor slob in the
+streets finally realized what is happening. Hope we're in jump-space
+by then. I saw Estrada's World get it, and I don't want to see that
+again, not twice in one lifetime!"
+
+The computer man was looking closely at Brion, head tilted sideways
+to see his face. "You need transportation offworld?" he asked.
+"We're the last ship at the port, and we're going to boil out of
+here as soon as the rest of our cargo is aboard. We'll give you
+a lift if you need it."
+
+Only by a tremendous effort at control did Brion conceal the
+destroying sorrow that overwhelmed him when he looked at that
+shattered wasteland, the graveyard of so many. "No," he said.
+"That won't be necessary. I'm in touch with the blockading fleet
+and they'll pick me up before midnight."
+
+"You from Nyjord?" the purser growled.
+
+"No," Brion said, still only half aware of the men. "But there is
+trouble with my own ship." He realized that they were looking
+intently at him, that he owed them some kind of explanation.
+"I thought I could find a way to stop the war. Now ... I'm not so
+sure." He hadn't intended to be so frank with the spacemen, but the
+words had been uppermost in his thoughts and had simply slipped out.
+
+The computer man started to say something, but his shipmate speared
+him in the side with his elbow. "We blast soon--and I don't like the
+way these Disans are looking at us. The captain said to find out
+what caused the fire, then get the hell back. So let's go."
+
+"Don't miss your ship," the computer man said to Brion, and
+he started for the pinnace. Then he hesitated and turned. "Sure
+there's nothing we can do for you?"
+
+Sorrow would accomplish nothing. Brion fought to sweep the dregs
+of emotion from his mind and to think clearly. "You can help me,"
+he said. "I could use a scalpel or any other surgical instrument
+you might have." Lea would need those. Then he remembered Telt's
+undelivered message. "Do you have a portable radio transceiver?
+I can pay you for it."
+
+The computer man vanished inside the rocket and reappeared a minute
+later with a small package. "There's a scalpel and a magnetized
+tweezers in here--all I could find in the med kit. Hope they'll do."
+He reached inside and swung out the metal case of a self-contained
+transceiver. "Take this, it's got plenty of range, even on the
+longer frequencies."
+
+He raised his hand at Brion's offer to pay. "My donation," he said.
+"If you can save this planet I'll give you the whole pinnace as
+well. We'll tell the captain we lost the radio in some trouble with
+the natives. Isn't that right, Moneybags?" He prodded the purser
+in the chest with a finger that would have punched a hole through
+a weaker man.
+
+"I read you loud and clear," the purser said. "I'll make out an
+invoice so stating, back in the ship." They were both in the pinnace
+then, and Brion had to move fast to get clear of the takeoff blast.
+
+A sense of obligation--the spacemen had felt it too. The realization
+of this raised Brion's spirits a bit as he searched through the
+rubble for anything useful. He recognized part of a wall still
+standing as a corner of the laboratory. Poking through the ruins, he
+unearthed broken instruments and a single, battered case that had
+barely missed destruction. Inside was the binocular microscope, the
+right tube bent, its lenses cracked and obscured. The left eyepiece
+still seemed to be functioning. Brion carefully put it back in the
+case.
+
+He looked at his watch. It was almost noon. These few pieces of
+equipment would have to do for the dissection. Watched suspiciously
+by the onlooking Disans, he started back to the warehouse. It was a
+long, circuitous walk, since he didn't dare give any clues to his
+destination. Only when he was positive he had not been observed or
+followed did he slip through the building's entrance, locking the
+door behind him.
+
+Lea's frightened eyes met his when he went into the office. "A
+friendly smile here among the cannibals," she called. Her strained
+expression gave the lie to the cheeriness of her words. "What has
+happened? Since I woke up, the great stone face over there"--she
+pointed to Ulv--"has been telling me exactly nothing."
+
+"What's the last thing you can remember?" Brion asked carefully.
+He didn't want to tell her too much, lest this bring on the shock
+again. Ulv had shown great presence of mind in not talking to her.
+
+"If you must know," Lea said, "I remember quite a lot, Brion Brandd.
+I shan't go into details, since this sort of thing is best kept from
+the natives. For the record then, I can recall going to sleep after
+you left. And nothing since then. It's weird. I went to sleep in
+that lumpy hospital bed and woke up on this couch, feeling simply
+terrible. With _him_ just sitting there and scowling at me. Won't
+you please tell me what is going on?"
+
+A partial truth was best, saving all of the details that he could
+for later. "The magter attacked the Foundation building," he said.
+"They are getting angry at all offworlders now. You were still
+knocked out by a sleeping drug, so Ulv helped bring you here. It's
+afternoon now--"
+
+"Of the last day?" She sounded horrified. "While I'm playing
+Sleeping Beauty the world is coming to an end! Was anyone hurt
+in the attack? Or killed?"
+
+"There were a number of casualties--and plenty of trouble," Brion
+said. He had to get her off the subject. Walking over to the corpse,
+he threw back the cover from its face. "But this is more important
+right now. It's one of the magter. I have a scalpel and some other
+things here--will you perform an autopsy?"
+
+Lea huddled back on the couch, her arms around herself, looking
+chilled in spite of the heat of the day. "What happened to the
+people at the building?" she asked in a thin voice. The injection
+had removed her memories of the tragedy, but echoes of the strain
+and shock still reverberated in her mind and body. "I feel so ...
+exhausted. Please tell me what happened. I have the feeling you're
+hiding something."
+
+Brion sat next to her and took her hands in his, not surprised to
+find them cold. Looking into her eyes, he tried to give her some of
+his strength. "It wasn't very nice," he said. "You were shaken up by
+it, I imagine that's why you feel the way you do now. But--Lea,
+you'll have to take my word for this. Don't ask any more questions.
+There's nothing we can do now about it. But we can still find out
+about the magter. Will you examine the corpse?"
+
+She started to ask something, then changed her mind. When she
+dropped her eyes Brion felt the thin shiver that went through her
+body. "There's something terribly wrong," she said. "I know that.
+I guess I'll have to take your word that it's best not to ask
+questions. Help me up, will you, darling? My legs are absolutely
+liquid."
+
+Leaning on him, with his arm around her supporting most of her
+weight, she went slowly across to the corpse. She looked down and
+shuddered. "Not what you would call a natural death," she said.
+Ulv watched intently as she took the scalpel out of its holder.
+"You don't have to look at this," she told him in halting Disan.
+"Not if you don't want to."
+
+"I want to," he told her, not taking his eyes from the body.
+"I have never seen a magter dead before, or without covering,
+like an ordinary person." He continued to stare fixedly.
+
+"Find me some drinking water, will you, Brion?" Lea said. "And
+spread the tarp under the body. These things are quite messy."
+
+After drinking the water she seemed stronger, and could stand
+without holding onto the table with both hands. Placing the tip of
+the scalpel just below the magter's breast bone, she made the long
+post-mortem incision down to the pubic symphysis. The great,
+body-length wound gaped open like a red mouth. Across the table Ulv
+shuddered but didn't avert his eyes.
+
+One by one she removed the internal organs. Once she looked up at
+Brion, then quickly returned to work. The silence stretched on and
+on until Brion had to break it.
+
+"Tell me, can't you? Have you found out anything?"
+
+His words snapped the thin strand of her strength, and she staggered
+back to the couch and collapsed onto it. Her bloodstained hands hung
+over the side, making a strangely terrible contrast to the whiteness
+of her skin.
+
+"I'm sorry, Brion," she said. "But there's nothing, nothing at all.
+There are minor differences, organic changes I've never seen
+before--his liver is tremendous, for one thing. But changes like
+this are certainly consistent within the pattern of homo sapiens
+as adapted to a different planet. He's a man. Changed, adapted,
+modified--but still just as human as you or I."
+
+"How can you be sure?" Brion broke in. "You haven't examined him
+completely, have you?" She shook her head. "Then go on. The other
+organs. His brain. A microscopic examination. Here!" he said,
+pushing the microscope case towards her with both hands.
+
+She dropped her head onto her forearms and sobbed. "Leave me alone,
+can't you! I'm tired and sick and fed up with this awful planet. Let
+them die. I don't care! Your theory is false, useless. Admit that!
+And let me wash the filth from my hands...." Sobbing drowned out her
+words.
+
+Brion stood over her and drew a shuddering breath. Was he wrong? He
+didn't dare think about that. He had to go on. Looking down at the
+thinness of her bent back, with the tiny projections of her spine
+showing through the thin cloth, he felt an immense pity--a pity he
+couldn't surrender to. This thin, helpless, frightened woman was
+his only resource. She had to work. He had to _make_ her work.
+
+Ihjel had done it--used projective empathy to impress his emotions
+upon Brion. Now Brion must do it with Lea. He had had some sessions
+in the art, but not nearly enough to make him proficient.
+Nevertheless he had to try.
+
+Strength was what Lea needed. Aloud he said simply, "You can do it.
+You have the will and the strength to finish." And silently his mind
+cried out the order to obey, to share his power now that hers was
+drained and finished.
+
+Only when she lifted her face and he saw the dried tears did he
+realize that he had succeeded. "You will go on?" he asked quietly.
+
+Lea merely nodded and rose to her feet. She shuffled like a
+sleepwalker jerked along by invisible strings. Her strength wasn't
+her own, and the situation reminded him unhappily of that last event
+of the Twenties when he had experienced the same kind of draining
+activity. She wiped her hands roughly on her clothes and opened
+the microscope case.
+
+"The slides are all broken," she said.
+
+"This will do," Brion told her, crashing his heel through the glass
+partition. Shards tinkled and crashed to the floor. He took some of
+the bigger pieces and broke them to rough squares that would fit
+under the clips on the stage. Lea accepted them without a word.
+Putting a drop of the magter's blood on the slide, she bent over the
+eyepiece.
+
+Her hands shook when she tried to adjust the focusing. Using low
+power, she examined the specimen, squinting through the angled tube.
+Once she turned the sub-stage mirror a bit to catch the light
+streaming in the window. Brion stood behind her, fists clenched,
+forceably controlling his anxiety. "What do you see?" he finally
+blurted out.
+
+"Phagocytes, platelets ... leucocytes ... everything seems normal."
+Her voice was dull, exhausted, her eyes blinking with fatigue as
+she stared into the tube.
+
+Anger at defeat burned through Brion. Even faced with failure, he
+refused to accept it. He reached over her shoulder and savagely
+twisted the turret of microscope until the longest lens was in
+position. "If you can't see anything--try the high power! It's
+there--I know it's there! I'll get you a tissue specimen."
+He turned back to the disemboweled cadaver.
+
+His back was turned and he did not see that sudden stiffening of her
+shoulders, or the sudden eagerness that seized her fingers as they
+adjusted the focus. But he did feel the wave of emotion that welled
+from her, impinging directly on his empathetic sense. "What is it?"
+he called to her, as if she had spoken aloud.
+
+"Something ... something here," she said, "in this leucocyte. It's
+not normal structure, but it's familiar. I've seen something like it
+before, but I just can't remember." She turned away from the
+microscope and unthinkingly pressed her gory knuckles to her
+forehead. "I know I've seen it before."
+
+Brion squinted into the deserted microscope and made out a dim shape
+in the center of the field. It stood out sharply when he
+focused--the white, jellyfish shape of a single-celled leucocyte. To
+his untrained eye there was nothing unusual about it. He couldn't
+know what was strange, when he had no idea of what was normal.
+
+"Do you see those spherical green shapes grouped together?" Lea
+asked. Before Brion could answer she gasped, "I remember now!" Her
+fatigue was forgotten in her excitement. "_Icerya purchasi_, that
+was the name, something like that. It's a coccid, a little scale
+insect. It had those same shapes collected together within its
+individual cells."
+
+"What do they mean? What is the connection with Dis?"
+
+"I don't know," she said; "it's just that they look so similar. And
+I never saw anything like this in a human cell before. In the
+coccids, the green particles grow into a kind of yeast that lives
+within the insect. Not a parasite, but a real symbiote...."
+
+Her eyes opened wide as she caught the significance of her own
+words. A symbiote--and Dis was the world where symbiosis and
+parasitism had become more advanced and complex than on any other
+planet. Lea's thoughts spun around this fact and chewed at the
+fringes of the logic. Brion could sense her concentration and
+absorption. He did nothing to break the mood. Her hands were
+clenched, her eyes staring unseeingly at the wall as her mind raced.
+
+Brion and Ulv were quiet, watching her, waiting for her conclusions.
+The pieces were falling into shape at last.
+
+Lea opened her clenched hands and smoothed them on her sodden skirt.
+She blinked and turned to Brion. "Is there a tool box here?" she asked.
+
+Her words were so unexpected that Brion could not answer for a
+moment. Before he could say anything she spoke again.
+
+"Not hand tools; that would take too long. Could you find anything
+like a power saw? That would be ideal." She turned back to the
+microscope, and he didn't try to question her. Ulv was still looking
+at the body of the magter and had understood nothing of what they
+had said.
+
+Brion went out into the loading bay. There was nothing he could use
+on the ground floor, so he took the stairs to the floor above. A
+corridor here passed by a number of rooms. All of the doors were
+locked, including one with the hopeful sign TOOL ROOM on it. He
+battered at the metal door with his shoulder without budging it. As
+he stepped back to look for another way in, he glanced at his watch.
+
+Two o'clock! In ten hours the bombs would fall on Dis.
+
+The need for haste tore at him. Yet there could be no noise--someone
+in the street might hear it. He quickly stripped off his shirt and
+wrapped it in a loose roll around the barrel of his gun, extending
+it in a loose tube in front of the barrel. Holding the rolled cloth
+in his left hand, he jammed the gun up tight against the door, the
+muzzle against the lock. The single shot was only a dull thud,
+inaudible outside of the building. Pieces of broken mechanism jarred
+and rattled inside the lock and the door swung open.
+
+When he came back Lea was standing by the body. He held the small
+power saw with a rotary blade. "Will this do?" he asked. "Runs on
+its own battery; almost fully charged too."
+
+"Perfect," she answered. "You're both going to have to help me." She
+switched into the Disan language. "Ulv, would you find some place
+where you can watch the street without being seen? Signal me when
+it is empty. I'm afraid this saw is going to make a lot of noise."
+
+Ulv nodded and went out into the bay, where he climbed a heap of
+empty crates so he could peer through the small windows set high in
+the wall. He looked carefully in both directions, then waved to her
+to go ahead.
+
+"Stand to one side and hold the cadaver's chin, Brion," she said.
+"Hold it firmly so the head doesn't shake around when I cut. This
+is going to be a little gruesome. I'm sorry. But it'll be the
+fastest way to cut the bone." The saw bit into the skull.
+
+Once Ulv waved them into silence, and shrank back himself into the
+shadows next to the window. They waited impatiently until he gave
+them the sign to continue again. Brion held steady while the saw
+cut a circle completely around the skull.
+
+"Finished," Lea said and the saw dropped from her limp fingers to
+the floor. She massaged life back into her hands before she finished
+the job. Carefully and delicately she removed the cap of bone from
+the magter's head, exposing his brain to the shaft of light from
+the window.
+
+"You were right all the time, Brion," she said. "There is your alien."
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+Ulv joined them as they looked down at the exposed brain of the
+magter. The thing was so clearly evident that even Ulv noticed it.
+
+"I have seen dead animals and my people dead with their heads open,
+but I have never seen anything like that before," he said.
+
+"What is it?" Brion asked.
+
+"The invader, the alien you were looking for," Lea told him.
+
+The magter's brain was only two-thirds of what would have been its
+normal size. Instead of filling the skull completely, it shared the
+space with a green, amorphous shape. This was ridged somewhat like a
+brain, but the green shape had still darker nodules and extensions.
+Lea took her scalpel and gently prodded the dark moist mass.
+
+"It reminds me very much of something that I've seen before on
+Earth," she said. "The green-fly--_Drepanosiphum platanoides_--and
+an unusual organ it has, called the pseudova. Now that I have seen
+this growth in the magter's skull, I can think of a positive
+parallel. The fly _Drepanosiphum_ also had a large green organ, only
+it fills half of the body cavity instead of the head. Its identity
+puzzled biologists for years, and they had a number of complex
+theories to explain it. Finally someone managed to dissect and
+examine it. The pseudova turned out to be a living plant, a
+yeastlike growth that helps with the green-fly's digestion. It
+produces enzymes that enable the fly to digest the great amounts
+of sugar it gets from plant juice."
+
+"That's not unusual," Brion said, puzzled. "Termites and human
+beings are a couple of other creatures whose digestion is helped
+by internal flora. What's the difference in the green-fly?"
+
+"Reproduction, mainly. All the other gut-living plants have to enter
+the host and establish themselves as outsiders, permitted to remain
+as long as they are useful. The green-fly and its yeast plant have a
+permanent symbiotic relationship that is essential to the existence
+of both. The plant spores appear in many places throughout the fly's
+body--but they are _always_ in the germ cells. Every egg cell has
+some, and every egg that grows to maturity is infected with the
+plant spores. The continuation of the symbiosis is unbroken and
+guaranteed."
+
+"Do you think those green spheres in the magter's blood cells could
+be the same kind of thing?" Brion asked.
+
+"I'm sure of it," Lea said. "It must be the same process. There are
+probably green spheres throughout the magters' bodies, spores or
+offspring of those things in their brains. Enough will find their
+way to the germ cells to make sure that every young magter is
+infected at birth. While the child is growing, so is the symbiote.
+Probably a lot faster, since it seems to be a simpler organism.
+I imagine it is well established in the brain pan within the first
+six months of the infant's life."
+
+"But why?" Brion asked. "What does it do?"
+
+"I'm only guessing now, but there is plenty of evidence that gives
+us an idea of its function. I'm willing to bet that the symbiote
+itself is not a simple organism, it's probably an amalgam of plant
+and animal like most of the other creatures on Dis. The thing is
+just too complex to have developed since mankind has been on this
+planet. The magter must have caught the symbiotic infection eating
+some Disan animal. The symbiote lived and flourished in its new
+environment, well protected by a bony skull in a long-lived host.
+In exchange for food, oxygen and comfort, the brain-symbiote must
+generate hormones and enzymes that enable the magter to survive.
+Some of these might aid digestion, enabling the magter to eat any
+plant or animal life they can lay their hands on. The symbiote might
+produce sugars, scavenge the blood of toxins--there are so many
+things it could do. Things it must have done, since the magter are
+obviously the dominant life form on this planet. They paid a high
+price for the symbiote, but it didn't matter to race survival until
+now. Did you notice that the magter's brain is no smaller than
+normal?"
+
+"It must be--or how else could that brain-symbiote fit in inside
+the skull with it?" Brion said.
+
+"If the magter's total brain were smaller in volume than normal
+it could fit into the remaining space in the cranial hollow. But
+the brain is full-sized--it is just that part of it is missing,
+absorbed by the symbiote."
+
+"The frontal lobes," Brion said with sudden realization.
+"This hellish growth has performed a prefrontal lobotomy!"
+
+"It's done even more than that," Lea said, separating the
+convolutions of the gray matter with her scalpel to uncover a green
+filament beneath. "These tendrils penetrate further back into the
+brain, but always remain in the cerebrum. The cerebellum appears to
+be untouched. Apparently just the higher functions of mankind have
+been interfered with, selectively. Destruction of the frontal lobes
+made the magter creatures without emotions or ability for really
+abstract thought. Apparently they survived better without these.
+There must have been some horrible failures before the right balance
+was struck. The final product is a man-plant-animal symbiote that is
+admirably adapted for survival on this disaster world. No emotions
+to cause complications or desires that might interfere with pure
+survival. Complete ruthlessness--mankind has always been strong on
+this anyway, so it didn't take much of a push."
+
+"The other Disans, like Ulv here, managed to survive without turning
+into such a creature. So why was it necessary for the magter to go
+so far?"
+
+"Nothing is necessary in evolution, you know that," Lea said. "Many
+variations are possible, and all the better ones continue. You might
+say that Ulv's people survive, but the magter survive better. If
+offworld contact hadn't been re-established, I imagine that the
+magter would slowly have become the dominant race. Only they won't
+have the chance now. It looks as though they have succeeded in
+destroying both races with their suicidal urge."
+
+"That's the part that doesn't make sense," Brion said. "The magter
+have survived and climbed right to the top of the evolutionary heap
+here. Yet they are suicidal. How does it happen they haven't been
+wiped out before this?"
+
+"Individually, they have been aggressive to the point of suicide.
+They will attack anything and everything with the same savage lack
+of emotion. Luckily there are no bigger animals on this planet. So
+where they have died as individuals, their utter ruthlessness has
+guaranteed their survival as a group. Now they are faced with a
+problem that is too big for their half-destroyed minds to handle.
+Their personal policy has become their planetary policy--and that's
+never a very smart thing. They are like men with knives who have
+killed all the men who were only armed with stones. Now they are
+facing men with guns, and they are going to keep charging and
+fighting until they are all dead.
+
+"It's a perfect case of the utter impartiality of the forces of
+evolution. Men infected by this Disan life form were the dominant
+creatures on this planet. The creature in the magters' brains was a
+true symbiote then, giving something and receiving something, making
+a union of symbiotes where all were stronger together than any could
+be separately. Now this is changed. The magter brain cannot
+understand the concept of racial death, in a situation where it must
+understand to be able to survive. Therefore the brain-creature is no
+longer a symbiote but a parasite."
+
+"And as a parasite it must be destroyed!" Brion broke in. "We're not
+fighting shadows any more," he exulted. "We've found the enemy--and
+it's not the magter at all. Just a sort of glorified tapeworm that
+is too stupid to know when it is killing itself off. Does it have
+a brain--can it think?"
+
+"I doubt it very much," Lea said. "A brain would be of absolutely no
+use to it. So even if it originally possessed reasoning powers they
+would be gone by now. Symbiotes or parasites that live internally
+like this always degenerate to an absolute minimum of functions."
+
+"Tell me about it. What is this thing?" Ulv broke in, prodding the
+soft form of the brain-symbiote. He had heard all their excited talk
+but had not understood a word.
+
+"Explain it to him, will you, Lea, as best you can," Brion said,
+looking at her, and he realized how exhausted she was. "And sit down
+while you do it; you're long overdue for a rest. I'm going to try--"
+He broke off when he looked at his watch.
+
+It was after four in the afternoon--less than eight hours to go.
+What was he to do? Enthusiasm faded as he realized that only half of
+the problem was solved. The bombs would drop on schedule unless the
+Nyjorders could understand the significance of this discovery. Even
+if they understood, would it make any difference to them? The threat
+of the hidden cobalt bombs would not be changed.
+
+With this thought came the guilty realization that he had forgotten
+completely about Telt's death. Even before he contacted the Nyjord
+fleet he must tell Hys and his rebel army what had happened to Telt
+and his sand car. Also about the radioactive traces. They couldn't
+be checked against the records now to see how important they might
+be, but Hys might make another raid on the strength of the
+suspicion. This call wouldn't take long, then he would be free
+to tackle Professor-Commander Krafft.
+
+Carefully setting the transmitter on the frequency of the rebel
+army, he sent out a call to Hys. There was no answer. When he
+switched to receive all he heard was static.
+
+There was always a chance the set was broken. He quickly twisted the
+transmitter to the frequency of his personal radio, then whistled in
+the microphone. The received signal was so loud that it hurt his
+ears. He tried to call Hys again, and was relieved to get a response
+this time.
+
+"Brion Brandd here. Can you read me? I want to talk to Hys at once."
+
+It came as a shock that it was Professor-Commander Krafft who answered.
+
+"I'm sorry, Brion, but it's impossible to talk to Hys. We are
+monitoring his frequency and your call was relayed to me. Hys and
+his rebels lifted ship about half an hour ago, and are already on
+the way back to Nyjord. Are you ready to leave now? It will soon
+become dangerous to make any landings. Even now I will have to ask
+for volunteers to get you out of there."
+
+Hys and the rebel army gone! Brion assimilated the thought. He had
+been thrown off balance when he realized he was talking to Krafft.
+
+"If they're gone--well, then there's nothing I can do about it," he
+said. "I was going to call you, so I can talk to you now. Listen and
+try to understand. You must cancel the bombing. I've found out about
+the magter, found what causes their mental aberration. If we can
+correct that, we can stop them from attacking Nyjord--"
+
+"Can they be corrected by midnight tonight?" Krafft broke in. He was
+abrupt and sounded almost angry. Even saints get tired.
+
+"No, of course not." Brion frowned at the microphone, realizing the
+talk was going all wrong, but not knowing how to remedy it. "But it
+won't take too long. I have evidence here that will convince you
+that what I say is the truth."
+
+"I believe you without seeing it, Brion." The trace of anger was
+gone from Krafft's voice now, and it was heavy with fatigue and
+defeat. "I'll admit you are probably right. A little while ago
+I admitted to Hys too that he was probably right in his original
+estimation of the correct way to tackle the problem of Dis. We have
+made a lot of mistakes, and in making them we have run out of time.
+I'm afraid that is the only fact that is relevant now. The bombs
+fall at twelve, and even then they may drop too late. A ship is
+already on its way from Nyjord with my replacement. I exceeded my
+authority by running a day past the maximum the technicians gave me.
+I realize now I was gambling the life of my own world in the vain
+hope I could save Dis. They can't be saved. They're dead. I won't
+hear any more about it."
+
+"You must listen--"
+
+"I must destroy the planet below me, that is what I must do.
+That fact will not be changed by anything you say. All the
+offworlders--other than your party--are gone. I'm sending a ship
+down now to pick you up. As soon as that ship lifts I am going to
+drop the first bombs. Now--tell me where you are so they can come
+for you."
+
+"Don't threaten me, Krafft!" Brion shook his fist at the radio in an
+excess of anger. "You're a killer and a world destroyer--don't try
+to make yourself out as anything else. I have the knowledge to avert
+this slaughter and you won't listen to me. And I know where the
+cobalt bombs are--in the magter tower that Hys raided last night.
+Get those bombs and there is no need to drop any of your own!"
+
+"I'm sorry, Brion. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but at the
+same time I know the futility of it. I'm not going to accuse you of
+lying, but do you realize how thin your evidence sounds from this
+end? First, a dramatic discovery of the cause of the magters'
+intransigency. Then, when that had no results, you suddenly remember
+that you know where the bombs are. The best-kept magter secret."
+
+"I don't know for sure, but there is a very good chance it is so,"
+Brion said, trying to repair his defenses. "Telt made readings, he
+had other records of radioactivity in this same magter keep--proof
+that something is there. But Telt is dead now, the records
+destroyed. Don't you see--" He broke off, realizing how vague and
+unprovable his case was. This was defeat.
+
+The radio was silent, with just the hum of the carrier wave as
+Krafft waited for him to continue. When Brion did speak his voice
+was empty of all hope.
+
+"Send your ship down," he said tiredly. "We're in a building that
+belonged to the Light Metals Trust, Ltd., a big warehouse of some
+kind. I don't know the address here, but I'm sure you have someone
+there who can find it. We'll be waiting for you. You win, Krafft."
+
+He turned off the radio.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+"Do you mean what you said, about giving up?" Lea asked. Brion
+realized that she had stopped talking to Ulv some time ago, and had
+been listening to his conversation with Krafft. He shrugged, trying
+to put his feeling into words.
+
+"We've tried--and almost succeeded. But if they won't listen, what
+can we do? What can one man possibly do against a fleet loaded with
+H-bombs?"
+
+As if in answer to the question, Ulv's voice drowned him out,
+the harsh Disan words slashing the silence of the room.
+
+"Kill you, the enemy!" he said. "Kill you _umedvirk_!"
+
+He shouted the last word and his hand flashed to his belt. In a
+single swift motion he lifted his blowgun and placed it to his lips.
+A tiny dart quivered in the already dead flesh of the creature in
+the magter's skull. The action had all the symbolism of a broken
+lance, the declaration of war.
+
+"Ulv understands it a lot better than you might think," Lea said.
+"He knows things about symbiosis and mutualism that would get him
+a job as a lecturer in any university on Earth. He knows just what
+the brain-symbiote is and what it does. They even have a word for it,
+one that never appeared in our Disan language lessons. A life form
+that you can live with or cooperate with is called _medvirk_. One
+that works to destroy you is _umedvirk_. He also understands that
+life forms can change, and be _medvirk_ or _umedvirk_ at different
+times. He has just decided that the brain symbiote is _umedvirk_
+and he is out to kill it. So will the rest of the Disans as soon as
+he can show them the evidence and explain."
+
+"You're sure of this?" Brion asked, interested in spite of himself.
+
+"Positive. The Disans have an absolute attitude towards survival;
+you should realize that. Not the same as the magter, but not much
+different in the results. They will kill the brain-symbiotes, even
+if it means killing every magter who harbors one."
+
+"If that is the case we can't leave now," Brion said. With these
+words it suddenly became clear what he had to do. "The ship is
+coming down now from the fleet. Get in it and take the body of
+the magter. I won't go."
+
+"Where will you be?" she asked, shocked.
+
+"Fighting the magter. My presence on the planet means that Krafft
+won't keep his threat to drop the bombs any earlier than the
+midnight deadline. That would be deliberately murdering me. I doubt
+if my presence past midnight will stop him, but it should keep the
+bombs away at least until then."
+
+"What will you accomplish besides committing suicide?" Lea pleaded.
+"You just told me how a single man can't stop the bombs. What will
+happen to you at midnight?"
+
+"I'll be dead--but in spite of that I can't run away. Not now.
+I must do everything possible right up until the last instant. Ulv
+and I will go to the magter tower, try to find out if the bombs are
+there. He will fight on our side now. He may even know more about
+the bombs, things that he didn't want to tell me before. We can get
+help from his people. Some of them must know where the bombs are,
+being native to this planet."
+
+Lea started to say something, but he rushed on, drowning out her words.
+
+"You have just as big a job. Show the magter to Krafft, explain the
+significance of the brain-parasite to him. Try to get him to talk to
+Hys about the last raid. Try to get him to hold off the attack. I'll
+keep the radio with me and as soon as I know anything I'll call in.
+This is all last resort, finger in the dike kind of stuff, but it is
+all we can do. Because if we do nothing, it means the end of Dis."
+
+Lea tried to argue with him, but he wouldn't listen to her. He only
+kissed her, and with a lightness he did not feel tried to convince
+her that everything would be all right. In their hearts they both
+knew it wouldn't be but they left it that way because it was the
+least painful solution.
+
+A sudden rumbling shook the building and the windows darkened as
+a ship settled in the street outside. The Nyjord crew came in with
+guns pointed, alert for anything.
+
+After a little convincing they took the cadaver, as well as Lea,
+when they lifted ship. Brion watched the spacer become a pinpoint in
+the sky and vanish. He tried to shake off the feeling that this was
+the last time he would see any of them.
+
+"Let's get out of here fast," he told Ulv, picking up the radio,
+"before anyone comes around to see why the ship landed."
+
+"What will you do?" Ulv asked as they went down the street towards
+the desert. "What can we do in the few hours we have left?" He
+pointed at the sun, nearing the horizon. Brion shifted the weight
+of the radio to his other hand before replying.
+
+"Get to the magter tower we raided last night, that's the best chance.
+The bombs might be there.... Unless you know where the bombs are?"
+
+Ulv shook his head. "I do not know, but some of my people may.
+We will capture a magter, then kill him, so they can all see
+the _umedvirk_. Then they will tell us everything they know."
+
+"The tower first then, for bombs or a sample magter. What's the
+fastest way we can get there?"
+
+Ulv frowned in thought. "If you can drive one of the cars the
+offworlders use, I know where there are some locked in buildings
+in this city. None of my people know how they are made to move."
+
+"I can work them--let's go."
+
+Chance was with them this time. The first sand car they found still
+had the keys in the lock. It was battery-powered, but contained
+a full charge. Much quieter than the heavy atomic cars, it sped
+smoothly out of the city and across the sand. Ahead of them the sun
+sank in a red wave of color. It was six o'clock. By the time they
+reached the tower it was seven, and Brion's nerves felt as if they
+were writhing under his skin.
+
+Even though it looked like suicide, attacking the tower brought
+blessed relief. It was movement and action, and for moments at
+a time he forgot the bombs hanging over his head.
+
+The attack was nerve-rackingly anticlimactic. They used the main
+entrance, Ulv ranging soundlessly ahead. There was no one in sight.
+Once inside, they crept down towards the lower rooms where the
+radiation had been detected. Only gradually did they realize that
+the magter tower was completely empty.
+
+"Everyone gone," Ulv grunted, sniffing the air in every room that
+they passed. "Many magter were here earlier, but they are gone now."
+
+"Do they often desert their towers?" Brion asked.
+
+"Never. I have never heard of it happening before. I can think of
+no reason why they should do a thing like this."
+
+"Well, I can," Brion told him. "They would leave their home if they
+took something with them of greater value. The bombs. If the bombs
+were hidden here, they might move them after the attack." Sudden
+fear hit him. "Or they might move them because it is time to take
+them--to the launcher! Let's get out of here, the quickest way we
+can."
+
+"I smell air from outside," Ulv said, "coming from down there. This
+cannot be, because the magter have no entrances this low in their
+towers."
+
+"We blasted one in earlier--that could be it. Can you find it?"
+
+Moonlight shone ahead as they turned an angle of the corridor,
+and stars were visible through the gaping opening in the wall.
+
+"It looks bigger than it was," Brion said, "as if the magter had
+enlarged it." He looked through and saw the tracks on the sand
+outside. "As if they had enlarged it to bring something bulky up
+from below--and carried it away in whatever made those tracks!"
+
+Using the opening themselves, they ran back to the sand car. Brion
+ground it fiercely around and turned the headlights on the tracks.
+There were the marks of a sand car's treads, half obscured by thin,
+unmarked wheel tracks. He turned off the lights and forced himself
+to move slowly and to do an accurate job. A quick glimpse at his
+watch showed him there were four hours left to go. The moonlight was
+bright enough to illuminate the tracks. Driving with one hand, he
+turned on the radio transmitter, already set for Krafft's wave
+length.
+
+When the operator acknowledged his signal Brion reported what they
+had discovered and his conclusions. "Get that message to Commander
+Krafft now. I can't wait to talk to him--I'm following the tracks."
+He killed the transmission and stamped on the accelerator. The sand
+car churned and bounced down the track.
+
+"They are going to the mountains," Ulv said some time later, as the
+tracks still pointed straight ahead. "There are caves there and many
+magter have been seen near them; that is what I have heard."
+
+The guess was correct. Before nine o'clock the ground humped into a
+range of foothills, and the darker masses of mountains could be seen
+behind them, rising up to obscure the stars.
+
+"Stop the car here," Ulv said, "The caves begin not too far ahead.
+There may be magter watching or listening, so we must go quietly."
+
+Brion followed the deep-cut grooves, carrying the radio. Ulv came
+and went on both sides, silently as a shadow, scouting for hidden
+watchers. As far as he could discover there were none.
+
+By nine-thirty Brion realized they had deserted the sand car too
+soon. The tracks wound on and on, and seemed to have no end. They
+passed some caves which Ulv pointed out to him, but the tracks never
+stopped. Time was running out and the nightmare stumbling through
+the darkness continued.
+
+"More caves ahead," Ulv said, "Go quietly."
+
+They came cautiously to the crest of a hill, as they had done so
+many times already, and looked into the shallow valley beyond. Sand
+covered the valley floor, and the light of the setting moon shone
+over the tracks at a flat angle, marking them off sharply as lines
+of shadow. They ran straight across the sandy valley and disappeared
+into the dark mouth of a cave on the far side.
+
+Sinking back behind the hilltop, Brion covered the pilot light with
+his hand and turned on the transmitter. Ulv stayed above him,
+staring at the opening of the cave.
+
+"This is an important message," Brion whispered into the mike.
+"Please record." He repeated this for thirty seconds, glancing at
+his watch to make sure of the time, since the seconds of waiting
+stretched to minutes in his brain. Then, as clearly as possible
+without raising his voice above a whisper, he told of the discovery
+of the tracks and the cave.
+
+"... The bombs may or may not be in here, but we are going in to
+find out. I'll leave my personal transmitter here with the broadcast
+power turned on, so you can home on its signal. That will give you
+a directional beacon to find the cave. I'm taking the other radio
+in--it has more power. If we can't get back to the entrance I'll try
+a signal from inside. I doubt if you will hear it because of the
+rock, but I'll try. End of transmission. Don't try to answer me
+because I have the receiver turned off. There are no earphones on
+this set and the speaker would be too loud here."
+
+He switched off, held his thumb on the button for an instant, then
+flicked it back on.
+
+"Good-by Lea," he said, and killed the power for good.
+
+They circled and reached the rocky wall of the cliff. Creeping
+silently in the shadows, they slipped up on the dark entrance of the
+cave. Nothing moved ahead and there was no sound from the entrance
+of the cave. Brion glanced at his watch and was instantly sorry.
+
+Ten-thirty.
+
+The last shelter concealing them was five metres from the cave. They
+started to rise, to rush the final distance, when Ulv suddenly waved
+Brion down. He pointed to his nose, then to the cave. He could smell
+the magter there.
+
+A dark figure separated itself from the greater darkness of the cave
+mouth. Ulv acted instantly. He stood up and his hand went to his
+mouth; air hissed faintly through the tube in his hand. Without a
+sound the magter folded and fell to the ground. Before the body hit,
+Ulv crouched low and rushed in. There was the sudden scuffling of
+feet on the floor, then silence.
+
+Brion walked in, gun ready and alert, not knowing what he would
+find. His toe pushed against a body on the ground and from the
+darkness Ulv whispered, "There were only two. We can go on now."
+
+Finding their way through the cave was a maddening torture. They had
+no light, nor would they dare use one if they had. There were no
+wheel marks to follow on the stone floor. Without Ulv's sensitive
+nose they would have been completely lost. The cave branched and
+rejoined and they soon lost all sense of direction.
+
+Walking was almost impossible. They had to grope with their hands
+before them like blind men. Stumbling and falling against the rock,
+their fingers were soon throbbing and raw from brushing against the
+rough walls. Ulv followed the scent of the magter that hung in the
+air where they had passed. When it grew thin he knew they had left
+the frequently used tunnels and entered deserted ones. They could
+only retrace their steps and start again in a different direction.
+
+More maddening than the walking was the way time was running out.
+Inexorably the glowing hands crept around the face of Brion's watch
+until they stood at fifteen minutes before twelve.
+
+"There is a light ahead," Ulv whispered, and Brion almost gasped
+with relief. They moved slowly and silently until they stood,
+concealed by the darkness, looking out into a domed chamber brightly
+lit by glowing tubes.
+
+"What is it?" Ulv asked, blinking in the painful wash of
+illumination after the long darkness.
+
+Brion had to fight to control his voice, to stop from shouting.
+
+"The cage with the metal webbing is a jump-space generator. The
+pointed, silver shapes next to it are bombs of some kind, probably
+the cobalt bombs. We've found it!"
+
+His first impulse was to instantly send the radio call that would
+stop the waiting fleet of H-bombers. But an unconvincing message
+would be worse than no message at all. He had to describe exactly
+what he saw here so the Nyjorders would know he wasn't lying. What
+he told them had to fit exactly with the information they already
+had about the launcher and the bombs.
+
+The launcher had been jury-rigged from a ship's jump-space
+generator; that was obvious. The generator and its controls were
+neatly cased and mounted. Cables ran from them to a roughly
+constructed cage of woven metal straps, hammered and bent into shape
+by hand. Three technicians were working on the equipment. Brion
+wondered what sort of blood-thirsty war-lovers the magter had found
+to handle the bombing for them. Then he saw the chains around their
+necks and the bloody wounds on their backs.
+
+He still found it difficult to have any pity for them. They had
+obviously been willing to accept money to destroy another planet--or
+they wouldn't have been working here. They had probably rebelled
+only when they had discovered how suicidal the attack would be.
+
+Thirteen minutes to midnight.
+
+Cradling the radio against his chest, Brion rose to his feet. He had
+a better view of the bombs now. There were twelve of them, alike as
+eggs from the same deadly clutch. Pointed like the bow of a spacer,
+each one swept smoothly back for its two metres of length, to a
+sharply chopped-off end. They were obviously incomplete, the war
+heads of rockets. One had its base turned towards him, and he saw
+six projecting studs that could be used to attach it to the missing
+rocket. A circular inspection port was open in the flat base of the
+bomb.
+
+This was enough. With this description, the Nyjorders would know he
+couldn't be lying about finding the bombs. Once they realized this,
+they couldn't destroy Dis without first trying to neutralize them.
+
+Brion carefully counted fifty paces before he stopped. He was far
+enough from the cavern so he couldn't be heard, and an angle of the
+cave cut off all light from behind him. With carefully controlled
+movements he turned on the power, switched the set to transmit,
+and checked the broadcast frequency. All correct. Then slowly and
+clearly, he described what he had seen in the cavern behind him. He
+kept his voice emotionless, recounting facts, leaving out anything
+that might be considered an opinion.
+
+It was six minutes before midnight when he finished. He thumbed
+the switch to receive and waited.
+
+There was only silence.
+
+Slowly, the empty quality of the silence penetrated his numbed mind.
+There were no crackling atmospherics nor hiss of static, even when
+he turned the power full on. The mass of rock and earth of the
+mountain above was acting as a perfect grounding screen, absorbing
+his signal even at maximum output.
+
+They hadn't heard him. The Nyjord fleet didn't know that the cobalt
+bombs had been discovered before their launching. The attack would
+go ahead as planned. Even now, the bomb-bay doors were opening;
+armed H-bombs hung above the planet, held in place only by their
+shackles. In a few minutes the signal would be given and the
+shackles would spring open, the bombs drop clear....
+
+"Killers!" Brion shouted into the microphone. "You wouldn't listen
+to reason, you wouldn't listen to Hys, or me, or to any voice that
+suggested an alternative to complete destruction. You are going to
+destroy Dis, and _it's not necessary!_ There were a lot of ways you
+could have stopped it. You didn't do any of them, and now it's too
+late. You'll destroy Dis, and in turn this will destroy Nyjord.
+Ihjel said that, and now I believe him. You're just another damned
+failure in a galaxy full of failures!"
+
+He raised the radio above his head and sent it crashing into
+the rock floor. Then he was running back to Ulv, trying to run away
+from the realization that he too had tried and failed. The people
+on the surface of Dis had less than two minutes left to live.
+
+"They didn't get my message," Brion said to Ulv. "The radio won't
+work this far underground."
+
+"Then the bombs will fall?" Ulv asked, looking searchingly at
+Brion's face in the dim reflected light from the cavern.
+
+"Unless something happens that we know nothing about, the bombs
+will fall."
+
+They said nothing after that--they simply waited. The three
+technicians in the cavern were also aware of the time. They were
+calling to each other and trying to talk to the magter. The
+emotionless, parasite-ridden brains of the magter saw no reason to
+stop work, and they attempted to beat the men back to their tasks.
+In spite of the blows, they didn't go; they only gaped in horror as
+the clock hands moved remorselessly towards twelve. Even the magter
+dimly felt some of the significance of the occasion. They stopped
+too and waited.
+
+The hour hand touched twelve on Brion's watch, then the minute hand.
+The second hand closed the gap and for a tenth of a second the three
+hands were one. Then the second hand moved on.
+
+Brion's immediate sensation of relief was washed away by the
+chilling realization that he was deep underground. Sound and seismic
+waves were slow, and the flare of atomic explosions couldn't be seen
+here. If the bombs had been dropped at twelve they wouldn't know it
+at once.
+
+A distant rumble filled the air. A moment later the ground heaved
+under them and the lights in the cavern flickered. Fine dust drifted
+down from the roof above.
+
+Ulv turned to him, but Brion looked away. He could not face the
+accusation in the Disan's eyes.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+One of the technicians was running and screaming. The magter knocked
+him down and beat him into silence. Seeing this, the other two men
+returned to work with shaking hands. Even if all life on the surface
+of the planet was dead, this would have no effect on the magter.
+They would go ahead as planned, without emotion or imagination
+enough to alter their set course.
+
+As the technicians worked, their attitude changed from shocked
+numbness to anger. Right and wrong were forgotten. They had been
+killed--the invisible death of radiation must already be penetrating
+into the caves--but they also had the chance for vengeance. Swiftly
+they brought their work to completion, with a speed and precision
+they had concealed before.
+
+"What are those offworlders doing?" Ulv asked.
+
+Brion stirred from his lethargy of defeat and looked across the
+cavern floor. The men had a wheeled handtruck and were rolling one
+of the atomic warheads onto it. They pushed it over to the
+latticework of the jump-field.
+
+"They are going to bomb Nyjord now, just as Nyjord bombed Dis. That
+machine will hurl the bombs in a special way to the other planet."
+
+"Will you stop them?" Ulv asked. He had his deadly blowgun in his
+hand and his face was an expressionless mask.
+
+Brion almost smiled at the irony of the situation. In spite of
+everything he had done to prevent it, Nyjord had dropped the bombs.
+And this act alone may have destroyed their own planet. Brion had it
+within his power now to stop the launching in the cavern. Should he?
+Should he save the lives of his killers? Or should he practice the
+ancient blood-oath that had echoed and destroyed down through the
+ages: _An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth._ It would be so
+simple. He literally had to do nothing. The score would be even, and
+his and the Disans' death avenged.
+
+Did Ulv have his blowgun ready to kill Brion with, if he should try
+to stop the launchings? Or had he misread the Disan entirely?
+
+"Will _you_ stop them, Ulv?" he asked.
+
+How large was mankind's sense of obligation? The caveman first had
+this feeling for his mate, then for his family. It grew until men
+fought and died for the abstract ideas of cities and nations, then
+for whole planets. Would the time ever come when men might realize
+that the obligation should be to the largest and most encompassing
+reality of all--mankind? And beyond that to life of all kinds.
+
+Brion saw this idea, not in words but as a reality. When he posed
+the question to himself in this way he found that it stated clearly
+its inherent answer. He pulled his gun out, and as he did he
+wondered what Ulv's answer might be.
+
+"Nyjord is _medvirk_," Ulv said, raising his blowgun and sending a
+dart across the cavern. It struck one of the technicians, who gasped
+and fell to the floor.
+
+Brion's shots crashed into the control board, shorting and
+destroying it, removing the menace to Nyjord for all time.
+
+_Medvirk_, Ulv had said. A life form that cooperates and aids other
+life forms. It may kill in self-defense, but it is essentially not
+a killer or destroyer. Ulv had a lifetime of knowledge about the
+interdependency of life. He grasped the essence of the idea and
+ignored all the verbal complications and confusions. He had
+killed the magter, who were his own people, because they were
+_umedvirk_--against life. And he had saved his enemies because
+they were _medvirk_.
+
+With this realization came the painful knowledge that the planet
+and the people that had produced this understanding were dead.
+
+In the cavern the magter saw the destruction of their plans, and
+the cave mouth from which the bullets had come. Silently they rushed
+to kill their enemy--a concerted wave of emotionless fury.
+
+Brion and Ulv fought back. Even the knowledge that he was doomed no
+matter what happened could not resign Brion to death at the hands
+of the magter. To Ulv, the decision was much easier. He was simply
+killing _umedvirk_. A believer in life, he destroyed the anti-life.
+
+They retreated into the darkness, still firing. The magter had
+lights and ion rifles, and were right behind them. Knowing the
+caverns better than the men they chased, the pursuers circled.
+Brion saw lights ahead and dragged Ulv to a stop.
+
+"They know their way through these caves, and we don't," he said.
+"If we try to run they'll just shoot us down. Let's find a spot
+we can defend and settle into it."
+
+"Back here"--Ulv gave a tug in the right direction--"there is a cave
+with only one entrance, and that is very narrow."
+
+"Let's go!"
+
+Running as silently as they could in the darkness, they reached
+the deadend cavern without being seen. What noise they made was lost
+in other footsteps that sounded and echoed through the connecting
+caves. Once inside, they found cover behind a ridge and waited.
+The end was certain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The magter ran swiftly into their cave, flashing his light into all
+the places of concealment. The beam passed over the two hidden men,
+and at the same instant Brion fired. The shot boomed loudly as the
+magter fell--a shot that would surely have been heard by the others.
+
+Before anyone else came into the cave, Brion ran over and grabbed
+the still functioning light. Propping it on the rocks so it shone on
+the entrance, he hurried back to shelter beside Ulv. They waited for
+the attack.
+
+It was not long in coming. Two magter rushed in, and died. More were
+outside, Brion knew, and he wondered how long it would be before
+they remembered the grenades and rolled one into their shelter.
+
+An indistinct murmur sounded outside, and sharp explosions. In their
+hiding place, Brion and Ulv crouched low and wondered why the attack
+didn't come. Then one of the magter came in the entrance, but Brion
+hesitated before shooting.
+
+The man had _backed_ in, firing behind him as he came.
+
+Ulv had no compunctions about killing, only his darts couldn't
+penetrate the magter's thick clothing. As the magter turned, Ulv's
+breath pulsed once and death stung the back of the other man's hand.
+He collapsed into a crumpled heap.
+
+"Don't shoot," a voice called from outside the cave, and a man
+stepped through the swirling dust and smoke to stand in the beam
+from the light.
+
+Brion clutched wildly at Ulv's arm, dragging the blowgun from
+the Disan's mouth.
+
+The man in the light wore a protective helmet, thick boots and
+a pouch-hung uniform.
+
+He was a Nyjorder.
+
+The realization was almost impossible to accept. Brion had heard
+the bombs fall. Yet the Nyjord soldier was here. The two facts
+couldn't be accepted together.
+
+"Would you keep a hold on his arm, sir, just in case," the soldier
+said, glancing warily at Ulv's blowpipe. "I know what those darts
+can do." He pulled a microphone from one of his pockets and spoke
+into it.
+
+More soldiers crowded into the cave, and Professor-Commander Krafft
+came in behind them. He looked strangely out of keeping in the dusty
+combat uniform. The gun was even more incongruous in his blue-veined
+hand. After giving the pistol to the nearest soldier with an air of
+relief, he stumbled quickly over to Brion and took his hand.
+
+"It is a profound and sincere pleasure to meet you in person,"
+he said. "And your friend Ulv as well."
+
+"Would you kindly explain what is going on?" Brion said thickly. He
+was obsessed by the strange feeling that none of this could possibly
+be happening.
+
+"We will always remember you as the man who saved us from ourselves,"
+Krafft said, once again the professor instead of the commander.
+
+"What Brion wants are facts, Grandpa, not speeches," Hys said. The
+bent form of the leader of the rebel Nyjord army pushed through the
+crowd of taller men until he stood next to Krafft. "Simply stated,
+Brion, your plan succeeded. Krafft relayed your message to me--and
+as soon as I heard it I turned back and met him on his ship. I'm
+sorry that Telt's dead--but he found what we were looking for. I
+couldn't ignore his report of radioactive traces. Your girl friend
+arrived with the hacked-up corpse at the same time I did, and we all
+took a long look at the green leech in its skull. Her explanation of
+what it is made significant sense. We were already carrying out
+landings when we had your call about something having been stored
+in the magter tower. After that it was just a matter of following
+tracks--and the transmitter you planted."
+
+"But the explosions at midnight?" Brion broke in. "I heard them!"
+
+"You were supposed to," Hys laughed. "Not only you, but the magter
+in this cave. We figured they would be armed and the cave strongly
+defended. So at midnight we dropped a few large chemical explosive
+bombs at the entrance. Enough to kill the guards without bringing
+the roof down. We also hoped that the magter deeper in would leave
+their posts or retreat from the imagined radiation. And they did. It
+worked like a charm. We came in quietly and took them by surprise.
+Made a clean sweep--killed the ones we couldn't capture."
+
+"One of the renegade jump-space technicians was still alive,"
+Krafft said. "He told us about your stopping the bombs aimed
+at Nyjord, the two of you."
+
+None of the Nyjorders there could add anything to his words, not
+even the cynical Hys. But Brion could empathize their feelings, the
+warmth of their intense relief and happiness. It was a sensation he
+would never forget.
+
+"There is no more war," Brion translated for Ulv, knowing that the
+Disan had understood nothing of the explanation. As he said it, he
+realized that there was one glaring error in the story.
+
+"You couldn't have done it," Brion said. "You landed on this planet
+_before_ you had my message about the tower. That means you still
+expected the magter to be sending their bombs to Nyjord--and you
+made the landings in spite of this knowledge."
+
+"Of course," Professor Krafft said, astonished at Brion's lack
+of understanding. "What else could we do? The magter are sick!"
+
+Hys laughed aloud at Brion's baffled expression. "You have to
+understand Nyjord psychology," he said. "When it was a matter of war
+and killing, my planet could never agree on an intelligent course.
+War is so alien to our philosophy that it couldn't even be
+considered correctly. That's the trouble with being a vegetable
+eater in a galaxy of carnivores. You're easy prey for the first one
+that lands on your back. Any other planet would have jumped on the
+magter with both feet and shaken the bombs out of them. We fumbled
+it so long it almost got both worlds killed. Your mind-parasite drew
+us back from the brink."
+
+"I don't understand," Brion said.
+
+"A simple matter of definition. Before you came we had no way to
+deal with the magter here on Dis. They really were alien to us.
+Nothing they did made sense--and nothing we did seemed to have the
+slightest effect on them. But you discovered that they were _sick_,
+and that's something we know how to handle. We're united again; my
+rebel army was instantly absorbed into the rest of the Nyjord forces
+by mutual agreement. Doctors and nurses are on the way here now.
+Plans were put under way to evacuate what part of the population we
+could until the bombs were found. The planet is united again, and
+working hard."
+
+"Because the magter are sick, infected by a destructive life form?"
+Brion asked.
+
+"Exactly so," Professor Krafft said. "We are civilized, after all.
+You can't expect us to fight a war--and you surely can't expect us
+to ignore the plight of sick neighbors?"
+
+"No ... you surely can't," Brion said, sitting down heavily.
+He looked at Ulv, to whom the speech had been incomprehensible.
+Beyond him, Hys wore his most cynical expression as he considered
+the frailties of his people.
+
+"Hys," Brion called out, "you translate all that into Disan and
+explain to Ulv. I wouldn't dare."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+Dis was a floating golden ball, looking like a schoolroom globe in
+space. No clouds obscured its surface, and from this distance it
+seemed warm and attractive set against the cold darkness. Brion
+almost wished he were back there now, as he sat shivering inside the
+heavy coat. He wondered how long it would be before his confused
+body-temperature controls decided to turn off the summer adjustment.
+He hoped it wouldn't be as sudden or as drastic as turning it on
+had been.
+
+Delicate as a dream, Lea's reflection swam in space next to the
+planet. She had come up quietly behind him in the spaceship's
+corridor, only her gentle breath and mirrored face telling him
+she was there. He turned quickly and took her hands in his.
+
+"You're looking infinitely better," he said.
+
+"Well, I should," she said, pushing back her hair in an unconscious
+gesture with her hand. "I've been doing nothing but lying in the
+ship's hospital, while you were having such a fine time this last
+week. Rushing around down there shooting all the magter."
+
+"Just gassing them," he told her. "The Nyjorders can't bring
+themselves to kill any more, even if it does raise their own
+casualty rate. In fact, they are having difficulty restraining the
+Disans led by Ulv, who are happily killing any magter they see as
+being pure _umedvirk_."
+
+"What will they do when they have all those frothing magter madmen?"
+
+"They don't know yet," he said. "They won't really know until they
+see what an adult magter is like with his brain-parasite dead and
+gone. They're having better luck with the children. If they catch
+them early enough, the parasite can be destroyed before it has done
+too much damage."
+
+Lea shuddered delicately and let herself lean against him. "I'm not
+that sturdy yet; let's sit down while we talk." There was a couch
+opposite the viewport where they could sit and still see Dis.
+
+"I hate to think of a magter deprived of his symbiote," she said.
+"If his system can stand the shock, I imagine there will be nothing
+left except a brainless hulk. This is one series of experiments
+I don't care to witness. I rest secure in the knowledge that
+the Nyjorders will find the most humane solution."
+
+"I'm sure they will," Brion said.
+
+"Now what about us?" she said disconcertingly, leaning back in his
+arms. "I must say you have the highest body temperature of any one
+I have ever touched. It's positively exciting."
+
+This jarred Brion even more. He didn't have her ability to put past
+horrors out of the mind by substituting present pleasures. "Well,
+just what about us?" he said with masterful inappropriateness.
+
+She smiled as she leaned against him. "You weren't as vague as that,
+the night in the hospital room. I seem to remember a few other
+things you said. And did. You can't claim you're completely
+indifferent to me, Brion Brandd. So I'm only asking you what any
+outspoken Anvharian girl would. Where do we go from here? Get
+married?"
+
+There was a definite pleasure in holding her slight body in his arms
+and feeling her hair against his cheek. They both sensed it, and
+this awareness made his words sound that much more ugly.
+
+"Lea--darling! You know how important you are to me--but you
+certainly realize that we could never get married."
+
+Her body stiffened and she tore herself away from him.
+
+"Why, you great, fat, egotistical slab of meat! What do you mean by
+that? I like you, Lea, we have plenty of fun and games together, but
+surely you realize that you aren't the kind of girl one takes home
+to mother!"
+
+"Lea, hold on," he said. "You know better than to say a thing like
+that. What I said has nothing to do with how I feel towards you.
+But marriage means children, and you are biologist enough to know
+about Earth's genes--"
+
+"Intolerant yokel!" she cried, slapping his face. He didn't move or
+attempt to stop her. "I expected better from you, with all your
+pretensions of understanding. But all you can think of are the
+horror stories about the worn-out genes of Earth. You're the same as
+every other big, strapping bigot from the frontier planets. I know
+how you look down on our small size, our allergies and haemophilia
+and all the other weaknesses that have been bred back and preserved
+by the race. You hate--"
+
+"But that's not what I meant at all," he interrupted, shocked, his
+voice drowning hers out. "Yours are the strong genes, the viable
+strains--_mine_ are the deadly ones. A child of mine would kill
+itself and you in a natural birth, if it managed to live to term.
+You're forgetting that you are the original homo sapiens. I'm a
+recent mutation."
+
+Lea was frozen by his words. They revealed a truth she had known,
+but would never permit herself to consider.
+
+"Earth is home, the planet where mankind developed," he said. "The
+last few thousand years you may have been breeding weaknesses back
+into the genetic pool. But that's nothing compared to the hundred
+millions of years that it took to develop man. How many newborn
+babies live to be a year of age on Earth?"
+
+"Why ... almost all of them. A fraction of one per cent die each
+year--I can't recall exactly how many."
+
+"Earth is home," he said again gently. "When men leave home they can
+adapt to different planets, but a price must be paid. A terrible
+price is in dead infants. The successful mutations live, the
+failures die. Natural selection is a brutally simple affair. When
+you look at me, you see a success. I have a sister--a success too.
+Yet my mother had six other children who died when they were still
+babies. And several others that never came to term. You know about
+these things, don't you, Lea?"
+
+"I know, I know ..." she said sobbing into her hands. He held her
+now and she didn't pull away. "I know it all as a biologist--but
+I am so awfully tired of being a biologist, and top of my class and
+a mental match for any man. When I think about you, I do it as
+a woman, and can't admit any of this. I need someone, Brion, and
+I needed you so much because I loved you." She paused and wiped her
+eyes. "You're going home, aren't you? Back to Anvhar. When?"
+
+"I can't wait too long," he said, unhappily. "Aside from my personal
+wants, I find myself remembering that I'm a part of Anvhar. When you
+think of the number of people who suffered and died--or adapted--so
+that I could be sitting here now ... well, it's a little
+frightening. I suppose it doesn't make sense logically that I should
+feel indebted to them. But I do. Anything I do now, or in the next
+few years, won't be as important as getting back to Anvhar."
+
+"And I won't be going back with you." It was a flat statement
+the way she said it, not a question.
+
+"No, you won't be," he said. "There is nothing on Anvhar for you."
+
+Lea was looking out of the port at Dis and her eyes were dry now.
+"Way back in my deeply buried unconscious I think I knew it would
+end this way," she said. "If you think your little lecture on the
+Origins of Man was a novelty, it wasn't. It just reminded me of a
+number of things my glands had convinced me to forget. In a way, I
+envy you your weightlifter wife-to-be, and your happy kiddies. But
+not very much. Very early in life I resigned myself to the fact that
+there was no one on Earth I would care to marry. I always had these
+teen-age dreams of a hero from space who would carry me off, and I
+guess I slipped you into the pattern without realizing it. I'm old
+enough now to face the fact that I like my work more than a banal
+marriage, and I'll probably end up a frigid and virtuous old maid,
+with more degrees and titles than you have shot-putting records."
+
+As they looked through the port Dis began slowly to contract. Their
+ship drew away from it, heading towards Nyjord. They sat apart,
+without touching now. Leaving Dis meant leaving behind something
+they had shared. They had been strangers together there, on a
+strange world. For a brief time their lifelines had touched. That
+time was over now.
+
+"Don't we look happy!" Hys said, shambling towards them.
+
+"Fall dead and make me even happier then," Lea snapped bitterly.
+
+Hys ignored the acid tone of her words and sat down on the couch next
+to them. Since leaving command of his rebel Nyjord army he seemed much
+mellower. "Going to keep on working for the Cultural Relationships
+Foundation, Brion?" he asked. "You're the kind of man we need."
+
+Brion's eyes widened as the meaning of the last words penetrated.
+"Are you in the C.R.F.?"
+
+"Field agent for Nyjord," he said. "I hope you don't think those
+helpless office types like Faussel or Mervv really represented us
+there? They just took notes and acted as a front and cover for the
+organization. Nyjord is a fine planet, but a gentle guiding hand
+behind the scenes is needed, to help them find their place in the
+galaxy before they are pulverized."
+
+"What's your dirty game, Hys?" Lea asked, scowling. "I've had enough
+hints to suspect for a long time that there was more to the C.R.F.
+than the sweetness-and-light part I have seen. Are you people
+egomaniacs, power hungry or what?"
+
+"That's the first charge that would be leveled at us if our
+activities were publicly known," Hys told her. "That's why we do
+most of our work under cover. The best fact I can give you to
+counter the charge is _money_. Just where do you think we get the
+funds for an operation this size?" He smiled at their blank looks.
+"You'll see the records later so there won't be any doubt. The truth
+is that all our funds are donated by planets we have helped. Even a
+tiny percentage of a planetary income is large--add enough of them
+together and you have enough money to help other planets. And
+voluntary gratitude is a perfect test, if you stop to think about
+it. You can't talk people into liking what you have done. They have
+to be convinced. There have always been people on C.R.F. worlds who
+knew about our work, and agreed with it enough to see that we are
+kept in funds."
+
+"Why are you telling me all this super-secret stuff," Lea asked.
+
+"Isn't that obvious? We want you to keep on working for us. You can
+name whatever salary you like--as I've said, there is no shortage of
+ready cash."
+
+Hys glanced quickly at them both and delivered the clinching
+argument. "I hope Brion will go on working with us too. He is the
+kind of field agent we desperately need, and it is almost impossible
+to find."
+
+"Just show me where to sign," Lea said, and there was life in her
+voice once again.
+
+"I wouldn't exactly call it blackmail," Brion smiled, "but I suppose
+if you people can juggle planetary psychologies, you must find that
+individuals can be pushed around like chessmen. Though you should
+realize that very little pushing is required this time."
+
+"Will you sign on?" Hys asked.
+
+"I must go back to Anvhar," Brion said, "but there really is no
+pressing hurry."
+
+"Earth," said Lea, "is overpopulated enough as it is."
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+                        72
+                       HOURS
+                      IN HELL
+
+          Dis was a harsh, inhospitable,
+   dangerous place and the Magter made it worse.
+            They might have been human
+      once--but they were something else now.
+       The Magter had only one desire--Kill!
+     Kill everything, themselves, their planet,
+            the universe if they could--
+          Brion Brandd was sent in at the
+  eleventh hour. His mission was to save Dis, but
+        it looked as though he was going to
+          preside over its annihilation.
+
+               PLANET OF THE DAMNED
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+                 HARRY HARRISON
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of the Damned, by Harry Harrison
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