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diff --git a/21873-h/21873-h.htm b/21873-h/21873-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9c2add --- /dev/null +++ b/21873-h/21873-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8472 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Planet of the Damned, by Harry Harrison. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 1em; + } + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; + margin: 0em; + } + .figright { float: right; clear: right; + margin: 0em; + } + + .i0 {display:block; margin-left: 0em;} + .i2 {display:block; margin-left: 1em;} + .i3 {display:block; margin-left: 1.5em;} + .i4 {display:block; margin-left: 2em;} + .i5 {display:block; margin-left: 2.5em;} + .i6 {display:block; margin-left: 3em;} + .i7 {display:block; margin-left: 3.5em;} + .i8 {display:block; margin-left: 4em;} + .i9 {display:block; margin-left: 4.5em;} + .i10 {display:block; margin-left: 5em;} + .i11 {display:block; margin-left: 5.5em;} + .i12 {display:block; margin-left: 6em;} + .i13 {display:block; margin-left: 6.5em;} + .i14 {display:block; margin-left: 7em;} + .i15 {display:block; margin-left: 7.5em;} + .i16 {display:block; margin-left: 8em;} + .i17 {display:block; margin-left: 8.5em;} + .i18 {display:block; margin-left: 9em;} + .i19 {display:block; margin-left: 9.5em;} + .i20 {display:block; margin-left: 10em;} + .i21 {display:block; margin-left: 10.5em;} + .i24 {display:block; margin-left: 12em;} + em.spaced {letter-spacing:0.3em; font-style:normal; } + + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: 13px; /* same appearance for pagenums in <h> */ + font-weight: normal; /* regular <p> or in the index */ + font-variant:normal; font-style:normal; letter-spacing:normal; + text-indent: 0em; text-align:right; + color: #FFF; /* changed from "silver" */ + background-color: #FFF; + } +span[title].pagenum:after { + content: "[" attr(title) "] "; + } +a[name] { position:absolute; } /* Fix Opera bug */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .blurb {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; + margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; + padding: 2em; + border: solid gray 1px;} + + .tr { text-align: center; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 5%; + margin-bottom: 5%; + padding: 1em; + background-color: #f6f2f2; + color: black; + border: solid black 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of the Damned, by Harry Harrison + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Planet of the Damned + +Author: Harry Harrison + +Release Date: June 20, 2007 [EBook #21873] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANET OF THE DAMNED *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, William Woods and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="tr">Transcriber's note:<br/> +This etext was produced from the 1962 book publication of the story, which was originally published in <i>Analog Science Fact—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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