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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/21873-8.txt b/21873-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..05acd07 --- /dev/null +++ b/21873-8.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: 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANET OF THE DAMNED *** + +***** This file should be named 21873-8.txt or 21873-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/8/7/21873/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, William Woods and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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—Science Fiction</i>, +Sept.–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—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.</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—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 © 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—</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—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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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—"</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—"</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—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!"</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—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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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—Brion sensed it and knew the fifth point was +his.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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—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—"</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—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—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—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—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—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—living on Anvhar is +never easy—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—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.</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—and woman—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—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.</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—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—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?</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—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—I +don't see how we can. Dr. Caulry left specific orders +that you were not to be—"</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—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 <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—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."</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—" +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—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—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—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—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—"</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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?"</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—"</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—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—"</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—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."</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—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—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."</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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."</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—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.</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—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."</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—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—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."</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—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—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.</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—"</p> + +<p>"I know the theory—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—"</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—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—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—"</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—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—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—"</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—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—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—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—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.</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—not +barbaric decorations—you had to accept +their owner as something more than the crude savage +he resembled.</p> + +<p>"My name is Brion. And you—"</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—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—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—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—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—if you can—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—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—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—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—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—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—" He broke off +in midsentence as Brion looked at him in cold fury.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</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—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.</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—with stimulants or +drugs?"</p> + +<p>"She could—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—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—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—"</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—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."</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—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—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—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—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.<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—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—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.</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—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—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—yours and your families'. If you would +help me—"</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—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—"</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—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—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.</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—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—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—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—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—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."</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—"</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—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—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.</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—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—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—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—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—"</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—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—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.</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—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—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—"</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—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—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—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."</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—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—robots or +androids—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—their +own or anyone else's. Is that normal to mankind?"</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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—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—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—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—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.</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—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—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—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—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—<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—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—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—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—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—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—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...."</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—and would probably raise a big laugh on +Earth—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—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—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."</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"—Brion weighed the word before +he said it, but could find none other suitable—"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—"</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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.</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—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—"</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—"</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—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—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—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—on +Nyjord—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—the Foundation building!" Telt +shouted. "They've been here ahead of us—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—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—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—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—" 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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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.</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—"</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—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—"</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—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—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—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.</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—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—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—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"—she +pointed to Ulv—"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—"</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—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?"</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—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—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."</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—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—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—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.</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—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—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—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—<i>Drepanosiphum +platanoides</i>—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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?"</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—" He +broke off when he looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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—"</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—"</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—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."</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—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!"</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—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.</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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.</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—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>—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—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"—Ulv gave a tug in the right direction—"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—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—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."</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—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—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—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>—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—darling! You know how important you are to +me—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—"</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—"</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—<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—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—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—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—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."</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—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—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—but they were something else now.<br /> +The Magter had only one desire—Kill!<br /> +Kill everything, themselves, their planet,<br /> +the universe if they could—<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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANET OF THE DAMNED *** + +***** This file should be named 21873-h.htm or 21873-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/8/7/21873/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, William Woods and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANET OF THE DAMNED *** + +***** This file should be named 21873.txt or 21873.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/8/7/21873/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, William Woods and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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